Maxie Reckless and the Kith #01

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Punk rocker Maxie stumbles upon a strange new world.
3k words
4.33
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Part 1 of the 6 part series

Updated 06/07/2023
Created 12/11/2013
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RavynsLand
RavynsLand
105 Followers

"Shush... girls, shush," Kate says with a drunken, lopsided smile, raising up her bottle of Jose Cuervo like it was the flagon of an ancient Norse god. "I'd like to propose... a fuckin' toast."

I resist the urge to clear my throat, letting it pass. Kate was trashed and she deserved this moment, she'd earned it. Honestly, we all had.

"To fuckin' Dischord," Kate begins, lifting her bottle up in the air and swaying slightly. "To Dischord on the Dance Floor being a fuckin' silver record," she continues, now closing her eyes for dramatic effect. "And to Flesh Panties coming out in fuckin' June!" she squeals, letting out a loud, ecstatic 'woo' as she emptied the bottle over her face. I suspect about 35% of the stuff made it into her mouth but she made a good show of things -- the girls needed that. Kate was our front man, our lead singer, and our keyboardist; she was the face of the band.

I nod and smile, raising my own flask of Blackheart to my lips and taking a swig. Fuck it, I'd earned it too. Just as long as someone else was driving this thing.

What Kate had said was true -- Dischord on the Dance Floor had just been announced as a silver record, and as it had been our first album, all of us were... well, for lack of a more precise term, excited as hell. Sarah had proposed that we take her hybrid child of a four-wheeler and a four-door hummer out into the woods to celebrate, where we could get drunk, make out, and possibly die, and nobody would find our gorgeous corpses. So far the idea had been successful. Kate was trashed, Vicky was our designated driver (by "designated driver" I mean that she's restricted to only a single liter of hard liquor), Des was already passed out in the backseat with her shirt off, Sarah was as fresh-faced and optimistic as ever, and I... well I showed up.

Hey, I was having fun, don't get me wrong on that. But I was a lot more excited for Flesh Panties coming out than I was for our silver record status. Call me old-fashioned but Dischord isn't about the money for me, it's about the music and it's about the art. When our next album comes out and touches more people, and our live shows start getting more people that come there just to see us, and the critics start seeing us as something more than an unusually-popular upstart punk band, I'll party harder then.

"Why so glum, Maxie?" Sarah says, sliding up beside me as our car rumbles over dead logs and fairy circles, crunching the fresh leaves and splashing through puddles. Nature was all around us, and I was enjoying that as much as I was the rum in my stomach -- the place is beautiful.

That's me, by the way. Maxine Harper, or "Maxie Reckless" on stage. I'm the bassist and the main songwriter for the band. "Not glum, love. Just mellow. I'm not as much of a squealer as Kate is."

"I heard that!" Kate bellows from the passenger seat.

I smile and lean back, glancing out the window. We were coming into an even more lush area that muddied the boundaries between "forest" and "rainforest". A lot more moss, a lot more flowers, and a lot more... well, just color. The entire place was starting to feel moist, and that wasn't just Sarah's breath on my neck.

Before you ask -- yeah, we hooked up a couple times, Sarah and I did. Wasn't the best idea in the long run as it had kinda strained the overall band dynamic, but Sarah was hot as hell and after all of our openly-sapphic stage antics, it seemed like a natural progression. She was also accepting of my "differences", and the first time she closed those silky, black-painted lips around my dick I was sold on her. Would I take it back if I could? Eh. Probably not.

"You didn't wanna come with us, did you?" Sarah asks softly, tilting her head and looking at me with those misty green eyes.

I shrug. "I don't mind. But I certainly didn't have to. Kate's the star of the show anyway," I add, under my breath.

"It's your basslines -- and fuck, your songwriting -- that got Dischord where it is, Maxie. And that was back when Vicky was co-writing with you. Now that you've taken the helm, Flesh Panties is gonna be our biggest hit yet." She smiles reassuringly, putting one hand on my shoulder. This is why my relationship with Sarah is weird; she wants us to be all public, and the rest of the band really shouldn't know what we've been up to behind closed doors. Every time I have to shrug her away, I doubt my judgment in dragging her backstage after the Detroit concert.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," I say noncommittally, offering her a small smile to get her to back off. "Hey, when do we stop at the site? I'm getting a little carsick back here."

"Almost there," Vicky calls back. "You guys're gonna fuckin' love this place."

"Fuck yeah!" Kate jeers out.

The thick, knobby tires of Sarah's off-roader easily cruise over a massive fallen tree, slick with moss and carrying us over the wide stream to a little "island" of sorts in the dead center of the forest. I had thought the rest of this place was gorgeous, but I was really amazed now. The kind of plant life growing here reminded me of a tropical island, with spindly, soft green fronds, enormous multicolored blooms dotted around, and a lush canopy of leaves above us so green it was almost blue. The entire isle was shrouded in a deep, hazy shadow that soothed my eyes and started entering me into an almost artistic, borderline-psychadelic state of mind.

"Vicky, how the hell did you find this place?" I chirp from the backseat as the car settles. Kate had already poured out and started dancing around the island meadow, tripping only occasionally.

"Friend told me about it, gave me this shitty little map," Vicky says with a chuckle. "I've never actually been, but the place looks bitchin'. I have no idea how big it even is."

I get out, letting Sarah out behind me and stretching my back out, taking another deep swig from my flask and sighing as it corrodes its way down my esophagus. This place was amazing, and if I got another chance between tours I'd definitely find my way back; I was sure of it.

"Oh my Goood, I'm so frikkin' horny," Kate slurs out, groping one of her tits and giving me the eye. I ignore her. While I don't like to brag about it, I hit that too -- and while Kate was as hot as any of us, she had a penchant for sloppy handjobs and then laying still on the bed for the rest of it. If I wanted to get my rocks off I'd fuck Sarah.

Now, I say "as hot as any of us" but I realize that you don't actually know what I look like, do you? Well, I'll try to be concise and not ramble, because... well, fuck, I'm trying to tell a story here. In any case, my look was developed slowly over my long twenty-three years of life -- I was born a natural redhead (fair skin and freckles, the whole package) and hated my hair from a young age. Even shaved it off once, when I was thirteen, though that was admittedly worse. When I was fifteen I got into a car accident (losing my dad in the process -- yes, a bummer, but I've moved on), and got some savage scars on the side of my head, completely removing the hair and skin on the right side of my skull. While flesh got grafted back on at the hospital, they concluded that the damage was way too severe for me to ever grow hair again in that area.

I was distraught. Not only was my only living relative now no-longer-living, my mop of kinky orange hair was now lopsided, and I was growing into a gangly, unloved teenager.

That was when I found punk -- or should I say, punk found me. I lashed out at the world and transformed myself into what I wanted to be, and as I grew into a lithe, athletic adult, I also changed my outward aesthetics. I didn't need a full head of hair to look good. I had my ginger frizz straightened and dyed a dazzling pink, slashing it was crimson streaks. Got a few piercings, got a few tattoos, started dressing differently. And before anyone could blink, the awkward dork with the scars on her head became a sexy renegade that was too hot to touch. Dischord was formed the next year and I went from being Maxine Harper to Maxie Reckless.

"Hey, hey. Maxie? You alive in there?"

I blink to the sound of Vicky snapping her fingers in front of my face, and I lick my lips. "Yes, Victoria. I'm alive."

"Good thing, thought we lost you there for a second," Vicky smiles and turns, "Kate and I are gonna go a little deeper into the woods and, uh... have some 'fun', so you kids take it easy, alright?"

I nod, folding my arms across my chest and partially obscuring the logo of my Distillers t-shirt. "Have fun, you two. Don't let her vomit on you."

Vic and Kate were already gone by the time my warning touched the air, but what was worse was that I could feel Sarah's arms slowly snaking around my neck. The tall blonde's nipples press against my back, and I could feel them clearly -- she wanted to play. However, it takes two to tango, and I have other plans.

"Hey Sarah, could you go check on Des? See if she needs water or something? She's been out for a while now." I turn to face her, keeping one eye on the woods in the opposite direction that our drummer and lead singer had just scampered off in.

"Sure," Sarah says with a small smile. "But you'd better be here when I get baaaaack," she coos as she slides back into the off-roader to check on our cellist (fuck yeah, our punk band has a cellist!).

"Don't worry," I call out, before continued under my breath. "...I won't be."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

As I walk deeper into the forest I can feel a slight lunging in my stomach -- a sensation of wonder and curiosity that I hadn't felt in years. I was exploring, like the hero in a fantasy story. Campaigning through uncharted and possibly dangerous forest, drinking in the scent of fresh flowers and running water. My very skin tingles with excitement as little bits of flower fluff blew by -- this place was pure, untouched by mankind.

If I was a Disney princess I swear I'd feel a song coming on.

I hear giggles coming from a good ways behind me, and figure Sarah found a way to amuse herself. Maybe she even joined in with Kate and Vicky, that'd be nice. Keep them all off my back for a while. I take a swig from my flask and start jogging down a little leaf-slick slope, careful to keep my balance as I weave between trees and flowering bushes. Interestingly, despite the sound of water ahead, what I find at the bottom isn't another stream -- but a large cave mouth, moss hanging down from its upper lip. The sound of water gets louder, a swift rushing, and I take a step closer, into the cave.

That, however, is when it hits me. The sound isn't water... it's music. Not music I can say I'm familiar with -- it sounds acoustic and almost folksy, yet slightly alien to my ear, like it's using instruments I've never heard before.

I glance behind me, back in the direction of the clearing where the other girls are. Why am I avoiding them? One dick in a mix of chicks, you'd think I'd be right at home in the middle of an annual Dischord orgy. But....

I turn back to the cave, and the sound of music gets stronger, finding a hold in my mind as I start to grasp the melody. I smile softly and walk into the cave, my knee-high tanker boots making a small splash in the entrance's rain-puddles.

"Is there anyone in here?" I say softly, holding one hand above my face to let my eyes adjust to the dark a little faster. In front of me, the cave goes gradually deeper, with a dark alcove on the side and a loft of sorts just above the decline. The loft though, seemingly a natural outcropping of rock formed by rainwater, is... off, somehow. I arch a brow and take a few steps forward, as the top of the outcropping seems to be... squirming?

Suddenly there is light, as dozens of tiny pinpricks open up. "F-fuck!" I stutter, taking a reflexive step back -- but in the glow of their own eyes, I see the source of the light.

They're tiny creatures, bundled together, huddled like lemmings. Like little oddly-patterned crosses between kittens and ferrets, only fluffier, they wriggle overtop of each other and begin to emit a cacophonous purr.

"What... the fuck?" I whisper, taking another step back.

"Kal'za!" comes a voice from my side, and I stagger back again, now fully exiting the cave mouth. "Zann!"

"What?" I reiterate, now more confused than ever. The source of the voice draws nearer, a flash of light heralding even more grumbling and squawking in a language I can't understand.

"Oh... outsider," the voice now says. As the speaker steps out of the cave, I see it -- her -- in all of her glory. Short, barely five feet (if that), and... distinctly... not human.

"...What." I say once again, though this time I am far more staggered by what I'm seeing. The woman who spoke is of a soft lavender hue, and while her shiny black ponytail may be something that is relatively familiar to my mind, the rest of her is not. Thin, segmented antennae explore the air in front of her, each hand has only two fingers and a thumb, and I'm pretty sure I can see a tail weaving around behind her. Her clothes are even bizarre, like if the 13th century had slutty bar waitresses (though I'm actually fairly certain they did, let's pretend "bars" and "pubs" are different things -- bear with me here).

"Oh, don't act like you're the surprised one here. We haven't seen outsiders anywhere near the Glade in centuries -- you're the intruder." The girl tilts her head, examining me with eyes like pools of mercury.

"Glade?" Now I really feel like the protagonist in a fantasy story. I'm seriously out of my depth, but unlike Harry Potter I don't have Hagrid to explain anything to me. "What... who... what the fuck?"

The alien(?) girl folds her arms, furrowing her brow. "You've disturbed the ixlings."

I stare blankly at her.

"The little furry things."

"And? The, um... they look harmless, right?" I mentally berate myself -- through all of this, shocking as it is, I'm starting to notice that this girl is kind of... well, hot. While she's certainly bizarre and alien to me, her body and facial features are more or less humanoid, with some small differences.

"They are, until they imprint. They're born companions -- until you take one, they'll start going berserk."

"What?" I considered myself a sharp student but this shit's too fucking weird.

The bug-girl sighs softly. "Come with me," she grumbles, lighting her lantern up again and heading back into the cave. Dumbfounded, I follow behind, getting a decent look at the weird creature's round, perky ass, a short skirt not unlike my own concealing barely any of it. Bad thoughts, bad thoughts, bad thoughts. Think about Mother Teresa. Gandhi. Martin Luther King, Jr. Bradley Nowell. Other famous people who did nice things for other people.

The little fuzzy guys (ixlings, apparently) are now tumbling over the little canopy, gangrushing me like single moms at a Black Friday sale during school hours. The chick with the antennae kneels down beside the swarm, though they are seemingly ignoring her in favor of crawling up me. "Pick one, outsider. They won't leave you alone until you do." I can barely hear her over the thunderous purring, but I actually do put some thought into this. Alien fairy girl tells me to pick a weasel-kitten out of the freakish mob, I'd better choose carefully because for all I know, I really do have to keep it.

I glance down, trying to take a quick count of them, but there's too many. I smile, however, when I see one tiny, furry face pop out from between my modest cleavage, nestled inside my shirt. The ixling is mostly white with fat gray stripes laced across his tube-shaped body, and the pattern is pleasing if not uncommon. I stroke one thumb over its tiny, silky head. "This one work?"

"Whichever one," the girl says. "Run your finger along its belly and the others will leave you alone."

I nod and follow those directions, and as she says the flock starts pouring away, scurrying along the walls and crawling up to the loft where they had previous been, their purring ebbing as they settled back into a pile. The one I selected crawls up and curls on my shoulder like he's known me all his life. "Why didn't they mobrush you?" I question.

"I used to have one, but my imprint died a few years ago. You can never have two ixlings in one lifetime."

I shrug. I guess that explains it. "Okay, so... wait, we still have some stuff to talk about. Who the hell are you people?"

The purple-skinned girl smiles, then beckons me deeper into the cave, towards the alcove I had initially ignored. "Come with me... I'll try to explain. My name's Zin... and you have just discovered the Glade. The home of the Kith."

RavynsLand
RavynsLand
105 Followers
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darkrage6darkrage6about 4 years ago

Mother Theresa was not a nice person at all, watch the Penn and Teller bullshit episode "Holier Then Thou" and you'll see what I mean.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 10 years ago

Oh my god! I love it! Write more!

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