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James	By : Mike256bit Category: +M to R > Outlaw Star Views: 6448 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Outlaw Star, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-James
- 1
James

Mike256bit
[mike256bit@gmail.com]

An
Outlaw Star
based fanfic.

Disclaimer:
I do not own Outlaw Star or the characters therein.

Warning:
[NC-17] What else can I say? Anyhow, we've got some content to worry about:
rape and graphic violence.

My
notes: It's Altered Universe, I suppose. Darkfic. Not particularly in
character, but hey, it�s a party.

I
wrote this in 2002, I think, while listening to "Ripe (with Decay)" by
NIN. You know, in case you have it.

-o-

James

            This
was not how it was supposed to be. Gene's dead. My life spoiled like year old
milk after he taunted one too many bounty hunters. Much to my piteous chagrin,
they stole more than Aniki's life; the robbed us all of the unity that was once
the Outlaw Star crew. Once Gene was out of the picture, Ron made his swoop in
the name of Harry, stealing Melfina in vengeful rage.

            He
stole my mother. Without Gene, it was like plucking the wings off a dead
butterfly. Of course we pursued. We went hard after, giving it all we could
offer.

            All
my heroism earned me was a broken arm. Suzuka's apathy got her a few lost
digits by her own bokuto. And because Gene's death tamed Aisha to that of a
house cat, the coward didn't even go into battle.

            We
lost Mel for good.

            Starwind
and Hawking became Hawking and Clan-Clan. It wasn't very successful. At least,
no more than Starwind and Hawking was. Suzuka simply left shortly after,
bidding us a wave and a smile before disappearing into the mist that Sentinel
III excreted.

            In
the short span of one month, it became just Aisha and I lost on the rock that
was Sentinel. Gillium became a lost soul, despite that being impossible. He
just wandered off into the void, lost in his own programming. I, nor the cat -- kitten, really --
could fly the magnificent ship of days lost. We were forgotten on a rock in the
black void of hell.

            "James?"
Aisha was calling me. That's right, it wasn't Jim anymore. I lost that with my
cruel loss of innocence. And that, I didn't even get to lose it the fun way. I
had to lose it through battle.

            I
heard Aisha coming up the stairs. It was as though all I lost fueled into her.

            Lucky
fucker.

            I
saw her pop up and look around for me. Despite the recent turmoil, she seems to
have gotten cuter and sweeter. That's how I wanted to lose my innocence -- with
her. Perverted, sure, but it was justified.

            "James,
honey? What do you want for dinner?" I scowled. That's another thing. She
was turning into my mother. Of all, maybe not so much over Gene, but damn
close, I hadn't wanted her to be lost. But she was, just not to the fakely icy
grip of death. I was being teased. She was there, just not the rambunctious sex
animal I knew prior. Fuck a contempt for life. I had a contempt for all those
dead and for death itself for not wrapping its warm, blackly sick fingers
around me. Why didn't death take me over to the other, carefree void? I simply
hated life for punishing me so.

            And
as much as I wanted to hate Aisha for dancing out of reach, I couldn't.

            I
was in love with her.

            And
I desperately
wanted to fuck her.

            I
jerked forward, closing my eyes, allowing the familiar feeling to lap me up as
I felt a primal stir in my loins. I felt burning white pleasure seep over my
dark inner pain. Unfortunately, I lurched forward too far and banged my head
off the ajar door. My slitted view expanded as the door swung open, me tumbling
out of the closet. I lay on the floor, spasmed briefly, realizing Aisha could
see me. A gasp quickly confirmed it.

            I
stumbled to my feet, pulling my pants up, trying not to let myself turn
crimson. She looked speechless. I was suddenly disgusted with myself and
mumbled an apology. She still stared, her fingers draped loosely over her
mouth. Fuck. It's bad being caught; much, much worse if by your mother.
Infinitely bad when it's they you envision.

            "What.
. . were you thinking about?"

            Totally
blind sided, I murmured, leering at her: "You."

            Hearing,
or rather, seeing my mistake on her face, I knew well enough I could not
recover. Thus, I seemed unable to stop myself and to stay sanely minded.
"You," I said with a more reinforced voice. "I don't want you as
. . . my mom. I want you as my lover. . ." I knew damn well how stupidly
ridiculous I sounded. I could feel myself trying to strain authority into my voice,
while failing miserably.

            She
could only sputter, reaching back to sit down on my futon. I was surprised she
didn't just laugh at me. I slipped away, ironically enough, as I began to
approach her.

            "I.
. . I want you now. . . you're so. . . voluptuous and, and sexy. I can't have
you as a guardian . . ." I looked up from my while of staring at the
floor. I felt my gaze burn into her. I felt my voice swell and become laden in
a rough low tone. "I just want to have you."

            I
suddenly felt disconnected, seeing myself push forward and shove her back on
the futon from millions of miles away. I heard only a startled whimper and a
small cry, not the menacing growl I expected. . . even wanted.

            From
there, I briefly pondered why she didn't in fact, tear me apart. Not slowing
down to further investigate, it quickly dawned on me that she was all I had
left in this cold plain. She couldn't hurt me in good conscience. . . not even
for her own well being. The same bonds that locked her took hold of me, almost
making me stop. But from miles and miles away, I felt helpless, struggling to
halt myself. I felt myself descend, drained of power, feeling sexual drive take
me over. I almost smiled as I touched back down with sick reality, and ensued
to my ravenous deeds willfully.

            I
could hear her mutedly whimper my name as I pressed myself down upon her,
reaching around and generous grabbing her buttocks. It was so firm. . . well, I
guess I should have expected that, knowing that what I was doing terrified us
both. My mind trailed as I pushed my tongue into her quivering mouth, knowing
well enough she was still in shock.
Still, I could hear that muffled cry of protest before it was drowned
away by my screaming mind.



            I
was a rapist.

            The
following silence in my head was unbearable, amplifying my environment
uncomfortably; hearing the dull scrape of the futon sliding as I pushed into
her still. I could hear every sound my mouth made with hers -- I could hear
meek whispers as shrieks. I ripped back, pulling her flimsy top with me. It
tore right at the seams -- cheap material, I thought. I heard her gasp,
seemingly unable to cover herself up. She just stared at me, adding to my own
self anguish. There was such fear in the once warrioric eyes. Benign little
Jim. . . she saw had turned to a malevolent paragon of lowliness. I closed my
eyes for a moment, just a moment, before I pulled my hands out from under her
and hopped up onto her waist, slipping my legs back to tie with hers as my
hands fell upon her, fiercely squeezing her breasts. She cried out, myself
again sealing her lips, with more room to explore her citrusy mouth.

            She
was so round, I marveled, and so soft. Her former maliciousness did not do
justice to the wonder that was her body. It made me regret seeing her lusty
instincts gone. All that was left was the child.

            A
child like I used to be.

            Momentarily,
I thought it would make this a hellish experience, -- well, for me, -- but it
only excited me more. I heard her give a high squeak as I pressed myself into
her thigh. She was so warm. . . For the first time, I was enjoying her clothing
change.

            After
Gene's demise, she began milling about in long skirts and tee-shirts. I was
curious as to where she got the clothing, as Sentinel wasn't known for it's
apparel choices. I seethed at the change. . . that old Ctarl-Ctarl uniform
suited her far better.

            I
sighed, in my head, that is. And her hair; once a beautiful style of locks, now
a messy bunch of hanging coils. When I was still trying to avoid acceptance, I
always laughed at her dreadlocks.

            That
same hair splayed out like a blanket under us as I now worked to undo her bra.
I slowed to a stop, feeling a warm trickle on my cheek as I pulled back, only
inches from her face.

            For
the second time in my life, I saw Aisha cry.

            The
first was obviously enough at Gene's funeral. Not many were there. Fred Lou
bawled like a baby. I didn't blame him. It was closed casket, of course. Those
bounty hunters pretty much blew his face off. Oh Kami. . .I missed him so much.
. . As a final salute, we loaded his casket into an escape pod and launched him
into space to forever dance with the stars. I asked him silently to greet Hilda
for me. It was then I saw the intrepid Aisha finally break down; her soul had
left with Gene's.

            Mel
was destroyed. She didn't even struggle when she was carted off. On cold nights
-- no, on every
night, I wondered if she was able -- if she was with Gene again. It'd be nice
to see her in the after life.

            My
mind came back as I unsnapped the bra with ease. I had the practice. . . I'd
stolen one of hers before, curious. And they smelled so nice. . . Looking back
down from my mental jog, I was well rewarded with the sight of her supple
breasts. Not having to glance up to up to know she was still crying, I smiled a
small grin and moved down a bit, suppressing a moan as I slid over her thigh. I
stopped above them, halted from moving down by a broken mutter of protest. I
looked up, the tears still shimmering down her face.

            "Please
stop. . ." was her tiny cry. Her innocence only made me lust for her more.
I silently lowered my head, taking one to mouth.

            I
heard her moan pitifully, knowing she didn't want this. It was a submerged
sound, as though we were under water. . . I wanted this so bad. I never got what I wanted. I
only lost.

            I
lost a brother.

            I
lost a mother.

            I
even lost my fucking car for ONE parking violation.

            Most
importantly, I guess, was that I lost the privilege of being Jim. Thus I
continued without remorse, sucking vigorously on her soft breast. It set me
ablaze. I pressed myself further into her thigh, feeling the muscles tighten
against me. As though I were still watching from so far away, I knew she was
gripping the sheets, gritting her teeth in unwanted feelings. My hands slid
down her curvy sides, both of us tensing when my fingertips brushed over the
hem of her shorter-than-usual skirt and onto the creamy skin of her thigh. My
hands slid back up, pushing her skirt up slowly. My fingers hit the cotton of
her underwear and I heard her finally give a sob. She tried holding it in,
without success.

            "No,"
she gasped. I knew she wouldn't stop me, though. My hands ran up along the
waist band and instantly pulled them down. I was pleasantly shocked to find a
sticky mess greeting me. . . I was tired of wasting time.

            I
cupped her there with one hand, tugging at my own pants with the other and
freed myself. I was still a little slick from before as I placed it to the
opening of her sex. I wanted this so bad. . . There was no turning back as I
pushed in with a mighty thrust, erupting from her a tormented scream.

            She
was a virgin.

            Time
froze for a moment as I realized what I had just stolen, her mind and body
taken as one, ravished and drowned in the rains of a sick mind. . . Not like
there was anything I could do, because I was the victim, not her. . . I was the
one in the pain. After all, it was my insanity that resumed. I began pumping,
each thrust producing an agonized shriek of pain. And finally, as flesh met
with flesh, the ripping sounds of slick and sticky skin pushing together and
pulling apart -� through all this, as though I were to get a reward, I was relishing in
destroying the innocent.

            I
let go of her breast, gripping her hips firmly, pulling her to me as I dug deep
inter her depths. I sped up the union as her screams turned to loud, dark
moans. She pulled at the bed sheets, arching her back as I mercilessly siphoned
her dwindled spirits. And there I was to witness the pain.

            How long had it been? Must have been a while. . . she was crying dry, by now. I heard her strain and scream my name, once commanding and now begging me to stop. I felt deaf.

            Hearing
my name like a vibration. . . it didn't phase me, as I thought it might. I was
still James.

            I
still had a little ways to go. Reading up on how to prolong it and increase
stamina seemed trivial at the time, and I suppose even now I couldn't really
appreciate it. I began to slip, doing my deed absently as I pushed in a final
time. I poured inside her, jerking forward slightly.

            I
didn't feel it.

            I
could only hear her whimper a whisper, still begging me to stop. I couldn't
break her into wanting to be my lover, it seemed. But, my mind cried, I still
wanted her. I still wanted more. I pulled out, hearing a sticky separation.
Blood pooled there, soaking into the bed sheets. Its faintly bitter smell told
me so.

            Gripping
her hips still, I gently turned her over, propping her up on her knees. She
meekly sobbed, dazed and unaware as her face pressed into the damp sheets. She
came to her senses with a stuttered cry as I mounted her backside with a grunt.
I pushed in without missing a beat; it was so tight, I figured I'd pass out.

            She
was screaming so loud. . . She was so small, so undeserving.

            I
was greedy, grown-up.

            I
wasn't Jim anymore.

            My
head exploded in pain as I pulled out and backed away on unsteady feet. She
dropped to the bed, crying silently. I looked down at my blood covered member,
shaking. Now I knew what I had done. I didn't feel like a kid anymore. My last
scrap of childhood gone. Aisha seemed to receive it, my loss fueling her gain;
her gain only increasing her agony. She moaned and asked me why.

            Why
applied to everything these days.

            Why
did Gene leave us?

            Why
was fate such a cruel tease?

            Why,
why, why. . .

            Why
did I grab my gun?

            Why
did I kill us both? Well. . . I can call it an easy question and give it an
easy answer. The crew of the Outlaw Star wasn't complete. Those left weren't
what they used to be.

            Now,
I lay, blood pouring out of my side. I feel warm. . . it's not a bad feeling. .
. I feel satisfied. But I know I'm slipping away as I reach over and grasp my
dead friend's hand. My vision's going. . . I can only feel the warmth.

            I'm
sorry, Aisha, but we'll be together again. I'll get to be Jim again, and we'll
get to be friends again. Don't be mad. . . our pain is now over.

            My
vision's gone. . . I can't feel. But I know that warmth is there. . . and
they're there, I know they are. . . I can see them. I can see everything in the
creamy white light that surrounds me, vibrant colors just a step out of reach.
But I go to them, I'm drawn.

            Gene,
Melfina, Suzuka and Aisha. . . even Gillium. . . all of them, all waiting for
me aboard the Outlaw Star.

End

e-mail:
mike256bit@gmail.com

icq:
24584198

aim:
Mike256bit
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