MOAB � Mother Of All Boxsets

by George Saoulidis

  And then it hits me.

  I note down the time and date on my to-do list and pop inside Kathryn's apartment from the door, which my future self has left open for me. Such a clever lad, that one.

  I get inside, hesitating.

  She breathes hard on the bedroom. "Come on! I need you, again..." She's like a nympho, grinding her hips and rubbing her enormous tits.

  I throw my clothes on the same spot on the sofa and dive right in.

  She hugs me tightly and squeezes me, rubbing her sweaty and fuckin' scalding body on me. "Are you refreshed?" She asks in-between hungry kisses.

  "Yeah," I say when I manage to get a breath. "It's not me from before, I need to tell you that. I'm from..."

  "I don't care," Kathryn says and straddles me, pushing me on the bed. "Just do me again," she moans and grinds on my cock.

  So I do as the lady asks, smiling wide. "The coffee-girl services me with my coffee every five minutes. It's only fair I service her every five in turn."

  I turn to the window and see my future self waiting outside the apartment, at the exact same spot I was standing before.

  Don’t worry, mate. I’ll only be five minutes, tops.

  The End

  Beware the Rains

  My beloved Laura,

  This letter will only find itself in your hands in case something bad has happened to me, that is the way I have arranged things. It happened, it seems, I don’t know how of course but I have my suspicions, and I can no longer postpone the answers I must give you.

  I was a coward. During your entire life, I raised you, but I showed cowardice. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen that in me, my daughter, but it’s true. I was hesitant to tell you the truth, and since I’ll never get another chance to redeem that, I’ll do so now.

  For starters, let me explain some aspects of your life. I never allowed you to leave the island, not because I was afraid for my safety or yours, but because I was afraid for the safety of every islander. I know, it doesn’t make sense, it sounds wacko, as you would have called it and banged the door shut in my face.

  Alas, it’s the truth.

  Ikaria is a blessed place while at the same time being a cursed one. Blessed because it gave life to a creature as wonderful as you, cursed because such beauty cannot be left to stand, nature has to find a way to counterbalance it.

  You always used to say that rain makes you feel sad. My lovely daughter, it rains because you are sad, not the other way around. It sounds wacko, as you’d say, I know. But it’s the truth. I bet that as you read this letter you are crouched on a pillow, up on your favourite spot atop the ledge of the highest window, surrounded by your cats and listening to a sad song that reminds you of me. I bet the weather is moody, the clouds are grey, and a storm is forming in the horizon. I bet that despite you’ve stopped telling me since you’ve entered puberty, you regret not telling me you love me.

  Don’t worry, my daughter, I know.

  I apologise for all I’ve had to do all these years. I could never let you leave the island. You’ve hated me for that, I know. I couldn’t let you when, despite your hydrophobia, you ran away with that young fisherman and stole his father’s fishing boat, so I moved heaven and earth to track you down with the other Ikariots. They may not know much about us, but the little they do know is enough to mobilise them.

  Laura, it wasn’t your fault. Nor mine, dammit. Untold generations ago, they offered the firstborn daughter to the waters. I didn’t believe the fairy tale, I thought it was for kids. When I saw the waters swirling around your mother in broad-daylight when we went to the beach and my mother-in-law screaming at her, ‘You’re pregnant and didn’t know?’ then, I believed. I saw with my own eyes the waters turn to snake-like forms around her and squeeze her tight. I jumped into the sea and fought to push them away, to save her from drowning.

  Grandma was right, you see, your mother was indeed pregnant with you.

  It was a narrow escape that day, and then you were born. We lost your mother soon after that from an accident, you barely remember her. Grandma followed soon after that, she couldn’t bear the sorrow. She had lost her oldest daughter years before I even met them, and then to lose the youngest so suddenly… Her heart just gave out.

  I was left to raise you all alone. What did I know of children, let alone girls? I did the best I could. I’ve made many mistakes, forgive me. But I want to believe that in general, you were raised well. Did that grandma of yours ever give me any helpful instructions? No. I kept asking her about the curse, she’d respond, ‘The child is a blessing,’ and she’d waggle her finger.

  Don’t get me wrong, you were a blessing despite the problems we had. My joy, my little daughter. Armenistis wouldn’t have been a home without your mother and you.

  Unfortunately, I’m afraid not all the people of Armenistis think the same as us. Some know, or they think they know, and they think that you are the one who brings the bad things to the island. They’re nothing but fools, of course, never believe what they say. The evils of the world do not simply stop if they scare away a teenage girl from the island.

  If someone is to blame for my loss, I’m sure it’s those vile Karabelades, the older two brothers, not the younger one. They were overheard, drunkenly talking about our doom, plotting to take me out so that none remained in their way, and people told me of this.

  That’s why I write this letter, in case they’re lying in wait somewhere. Being a fisherman is a dangerous job and it’s easy to harm someone without getting caught.

  The sea does not forgive.

  But if the Karabelades were responsible for what has happened to me, do not seek revenge. Just keep an eye out, watch your back. And, I’m sorry, Laura, but you can never leave the island. I’m telling this again so that it enters your brain in full. I know your dreams lie farther than just the small island, and I know that your hatred might make you say ‘damn them all by the storm,’ but it’s not everyone’s fault. Remember the teacher who was patient with you when you were struggling to learn your mathematics, remember the neighbor who would put an extra pot of food for us when we first lost your mother, remember the kids that played with you while you grew up together.

  You possess power, Laura. And you’re afraid of the water because deep down, you’re afraid of what you might do with it.

  I know that while you read this right now you’re crying and the storm is in full swing over the island. It will be the worst one we’ve seen on Armenistis for twenty years. You cannot bottle this sort of pain inside, let it out.

  Because then, the sun will rise again and turn the grey light into gold.

  Your dad.

  The End

  The Cupcake Ingredient

  Cupcake was good at two things in her life, the sport of jugger and baking cupcakes. If you asked her which one she preferred the most, her reply would depend on her mood on that particular day. Sometimes, she’d crave for the quiet creation of baking on an oven, working the dough, a quiet contemplation while the smells wafted over her. Sure, it was all streamed live on her channel and people watched her and relaxed from their daily lives. They got tingles out of watching her bake cupcakes. They called it ASMR. Cupcake didn’t really understand what it was she was supposed to be feeling when watching back her own self baking and humming little tunes, but her fans felt something, ‘tingles’ as they claimed, so she didn’t mind. They were happy, they paid money for access, her owner was happy, her debt was being paid-off.

  Battle Bunny was her friend, her bestie, her BFF. She usually devoured most of the cupcakes she made, but never actually lifted a finger to help. Cupcake felt hurt about that a couple of years back but now she had gotten over it, her friend was contributing in other ways.

  Some days Cupcake was raving mad, angry at the unfairness of life, at her smothered hopes and dreams, at her owner who exploited her in every aspect of her life, at the world in general. She channelled that rage into hitting opponents very, very hard with a foam-ended quart
erstaff, they called a q-tip. The sport was weird and objectified women, but she didn’t really mind. The alternatives to earning the money needed to pay off her debt weren’t as nice as playing a toughy sport. Sure, there was blood, and weirdly enough, it was pink, just like her cupcake frosting. And sure, there were injuries.

  But in general, the bad things outweighed the good. That wasn’t a typo, yes, it was a crappy life. But Cupcake was a sort of person that could find nice things in the gutter, who could forge friendships in a competitive environment of life and death, who, put simply, had a positive attitude in life.

  She enjoyed her life as it currently was with a casual smirk and a cheek full of flour. Battle Bunny leaned over the kitchen counter as usual, nagging her butt off. “I’m starving, feed me!”

  Cupcake slapped her bestie’s extended arm. “They’re still hot, wait a minute.”

  “But they smell so good…” Battle Bunny nagged, hopping in place.

  “Patience, Bunny,” she said to her friend. She poked the cupcakes to see if they were getting tight and then added the frosting. It was sugary and pink, just the way she liked it.

  Bunny stuck a finger in it and licked it before Cupcake could react. She tasted it with a satisfied grin, facing Cupcake straight up.

  Cupcake opened her eyes wide and she held the frosting shaper upright. “Why you…” She chased her friend around the kitchen with a palm full of frosting. “Come here, let me frost you!”

  “Um… How about no?” Battle Bunny laughed and ran around. She really was moving like a bunny, quick and uncatcheable, that’s what made her a good qwik after all.

  “Come here, I said!” Cupcade demanded, laughing.

  Bunny mocked her by licking her fingers with satisfaction. “It’s your fault for making them so delicious.” She ran back to the kitchen counter and snatched a cupcake, then jammed it in her mouth.

  Cupcake stopped in front of her and put her hand on her waist, her lips a straight line. “Your tongue is getting scalded, isn’t it?”

  Battle Bunny chewed, her eyes watering. “No…” she said, her mouth full. She took in a few quick breaths to cool her mouth.

  “You’re such an idiot,” Cupcake snorted. “You could have waited like two minutes.”

  Battle Bunny kept chewing with her mouth open, her cheeks full. “Again, it’s your fault for being such a good cook.”

  Cupcake glared at her, then went to get her a cool glass of water.

  Battle Bunny snatched it and gulped it down. “Oh, thank Demeter, I needed that.”

  Cupcake put on the kitchen glove and took out the second tray, then placed it on the counter next to the first batch.

  Battle Bunny counted them with her finger. “What’s this? It’s not enough for everyone.”

  Cupcake punched her lightly on the shoulder. “It is if you don’t eat five of them. I ran out of the secret ingredient.”

  “Hm,” Battle Bunny said, wolfing down another cupcake, fanning her open mouth with her hand. “Can’t you use eggs like a normal person?”

  “You know it’s not the same,” Cupcake tsked.

  “Okay. Want to get it from me?” Battle Bunny shook her head up and down. “‘Cause I’m willing to bleed, if it means I’m getting some more of this deliciousness.”

  Cupcake looked out the window. “Nah, it’s not the same. It doesn’t taste right if it’s not coming from our enemies.”

  Battle Bunny licked her fingers, making loud sounds. All this was getting streamed to the fans, and they sure were liking that little detail. “That’s alright, we have a match tomorrow. Patience, as a very wise person said once.”

  Cupcake raised her eyebrow and started to wipe off the kitched counter. “A wise one, eh?”

  “Yeah, she droned on and on about it, then she died because she pissed off everybody and they killed her. Like, pressed her throat in, choking her,” Battle Bunny said, mimicking everything in excess.

  “Seems to me they were impatient and stupid. Who will bake their cupcakes then?” Cupcake said, pointatively.

  Battle Bunny raised her palm to her friend. “I know, right? That’s what I told them, but she was so annoying…”

  The match was easy, as matches went. They were paired up with a bunch of girls that knew nothing about the sport, they were hardly a team, let alone a challenge. But jugger had a way of kicking you in the ass when you least expected it, so Cupcake and all the other veterans were careful not to get injured. Last thing they needed was to rake up hospital and augmentation bills on an easy match such as this, and miss out on the Cyberpink Tournament. So, they paced themselves, even Battle Bunny, who was usually impatient, minded her footing, dodged more than she sprinted. Even being cautious like that, she scored a bunch of times.

  Cupcake brought her q-tip on top of an opponent’s head, practically slapping her in the face. Her nose gushed blood all over everybody in the vicinity in a spray of pink droplets. The opponent knelt, since after taking a hit she was paralysed for the duration of five stones. Cupcake took her time to bring out a vial from her belt and pushed the opponent’s head back. She looked up at Cupcake, scared and vulnerable. She moaned something incomprehensible, but she couldn’t speak through the implant’s temporary paralysis.

  “Shh…” Cupcake whispered in her hear. “Don’t worry. I just want some of this…” She placed the vial under her opponent’s gushing nose and collected her blood. “Did you know you can use blood instead of eggs in a recipe?” Cupcake spoke in her ear softly, almost seductively, licking her lips. “It gives it a nice, unusual flavour. Everybody loves it, they love my cupcakes. And tonight, the secret ingredient is your blood,” Cupcake said, shutting the now full vial. She wiped a drop of pink blood from the lip of the vial and tasted it, licking her finger clean.

  "Mmm, I bet you'll make a perfect blueberry cupcake."

  The end

  Read more Cyberpink stories on cyberpinktournament.com

  Choose Your Own God

  "Godex denies your application for a change of god."

  "But why?" the believer cried out, dropping on his knees. The temple was enormous, which was fitting since Godex was massive indeed. He had three pairs of arms and two pairs of legs, but he never used them, floating on air.

  "You demand justification for Godex's answer?"

  The believer hesitated. Yeah, he wasn't gonna go all the way back without a proper answer to give to the others. "Yes, great Godex, I do." He quickly added, his forehead touching the floor, "If you so desire."

  Godex bobbed up and down in the air. "Your assigned god is appropriate for your species. It has been decided so by heuristic algorithms and outcome projections."

  "I do not dispute that, great Godex. But why must you give us this worthless god? All he does is sleep and drink all day," the believer complained, forgetting his place.

  "I repeat, he is the one appropriate for your species." Godex spoke and then there was a long silence.

  The believer expected more.

  Godex of course, saw that. "You expected more."

  "To be honest, yes, I did, great Godexm," the believer said meekly.

  "I will grant your request. Here," Godex said and lowered one of his massive hands down to the believer's height. He opened it, and there was a device.

  The believer picked it up with reverence as he would a holy artifact, 'cause that's what it was. It was similar in design to Godex himself, with fluid mechorganic lines. "Godex? Thank you. But I must ask, what is this?"

  "It's a choose-your-own-god device. It's very simple to use, it simply has that one button."

  The believer put his thumb over it.

  "Yes, that one. Once you press it, you will be assigned a new god at random. Press it again, and a new one shows up."

  "What happens if I change my mind?" the believer asked, his finger trembling.

  Godex shrugged with all three pairs of shoulders. "You can only go forward, never back. And the permutations are practically infinite for your short
lifespan."

  "So, if I like a god, but press the button, I'll never get him back again?"

  "Yes."

  The believer returned to his home planet. He shared nothing of the details with Godex, and his fellow believers didn't find that weird in the least. Godex was known for not explaining his decisions, but they respected them and knew that only he could see so far into the future and wide on all solar systems and deep into possibilities to make a choice. Who were they to refute him, simple motes in godex's eye?

  A year passed, and the believer grew weary of their god. He really was just a slob, there was no other way to describe it.

  So, one day, he went home and took a good look around.

  He was living alone, like all proper believers should. Abstinent, no sex was allowed with the opposite sex for them. They could masturbate, the lazy god didn't mind that. In fact, he insisted on it. A Spartan apartment, with the barest of essentials. A bed, a chair, one of each cutlery necessary, a single plate.

  He swallowed, looking around the brownish apartment.

  He went to the proper spot and dug out the brick from his wall, recovered the holy artifact, and pressed the button before he could change his mind.

  The sky changed. Red fires engulfed everything, spanning from one side of the horizon to the next. Red beings flew and snatched the other believers. His friend and neighbour screamed as he was flung in the air, tossed from one red being to the other like a plaything.

  Eyes wide, the believer pressed the button.

  Cold. Shivering. The ice-god stood in the middle of the city. The believer's clothes did nothing to protect him, he felt his toes getting stabbed with pinpricks, he might even get frostbite if he stayed in the snow a bit longer.

  He pressed the button.

  Eden. Trees swallowed the city, birds chirped, the air did not make his face hurt. That was a good thing, the believer decided. Any place that was cold enough for the air to make your face hurt was a bad place. He took a look around, his neighbour fell screaming from the sky into a patch of bushes, unharmed. The leaves themselves put him on his feet gently. He smiled, checking himself over, giggling like a crazy person for escaping certain death. "What happened?" his neighbour asked, but barely finished the sentence.