Barbie + Ken Ch. 01

not another werewolf story!

I follow at a guarded distance the man who just saved my life, unsure of how much I can trust him not to take it later. He walks briskly, taking great strides with labored ease. He maneuvers the night as if it's day, lumbering about the backwoods like he doesn't feel the roots and bumps underneath. His manner disgusts me but his form is pleasing, and he literally took a knife for me --does he even know, it's still bleeding-, so I follow him apace.

My hackles are raised, still tender from my sudden encounter with death. I don't like this one bit, I don't like the cold, chill air, I don't like the frenzied man-monster leading me to "the pack" to "consult with the alpha", and I definitely don't like being still cuffed from the last person to force me to travel against my will. My nerves are still on fire from adrenaline, and though he jogs I easily keep tempo. He doesn't realize I can see in the night as well he, probably better even. The shades of nature muted by blacks and greys race past, blurred at the edges. We are on some private property, off a very local back road, and I have seen no hint of life for miles until we crest a hill and discover a large complex of very nice, big homes and big, yawning yards.

We are met at the gate to this complex by a uniformed man in a jeep-looking car who roughly tosses me in the back seat, separated from the front by bars. My captor ambles into the vehicle with some difficulty, his frame too large really for the car. I sit quietly, like a good boy, eyes alert, looking for the first warnings of escape. I inhale deeply and slowly and clear my mind. The full moon shines so intensely above me. It fills my vision and glows and vibrates. I hear a silvery voice in my head, it whispers a Word to me. My eyes widen as the Word reverberates in my head, visions of chance and choice dancing before me. I focus on the source of my magic, deep in my gut, and I reach inside and release some. I will it to act, beg it to save me. I just need one chance. I say the Word.

"Wyrd." I cast the spell, a forbidden spell that you should never use- unless you have nothing left, no chance, when you're down to your last hope- I cast it, and I cry out to the universe for help. For a long minute, nothing happens. I'm holding my breath. The drab colors speed by. The moon pierces my vision. My captor coughs and the driver growls, "Did you hear something?" and the sound of pavement beneath the car. Then comes my wish.

"What the fuck?" says the driver as the check engine light flashes, and then I hear a pleasant ding! and then a loud glorious BANG and the car jumps and shakes and smokes and we careen off the road and come to a screeching halt, almost but not quite tipping over. The men in front are both temporarily unconscious, surely a lucky stroke of fate, and I reach again into the well of magic and blink and suddenly I am standing outside of the car. I stare at my handcuffs and imagine them burning up into nothing and as I will it, they do, melting and dripping off my hands to the grass below. I will the magic into my limbs and let it seep into my muscles, granting me temporary unnatural strength, endurance, and speed. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, focus, and release the spell, "Go."

I take off like a shot, the smoke billowing up several moments after I pass. I run and speed down the road in the opposite direction of the fucked car and my captors, and I approach the gate. It is locked and high but I know I can jump it. I am aware of movement behind me and I know it is my captor, shuffling and running behind me at full speed, predator. But I am not prey.

I jump at the precise necessary moment and easily clear the gate, knowing my captor is only a few paces behind. Above the gate, I twist in the air and train my flat upturned palm to him. He jumps, to intercept me, and I say, eyes blazing, "Ignite," and a big, round fireball bursts from my palm and strikes my captor square in the chest. He is knocked back into the earth, and I twist like a cat and land feet first, rolling with gravity and my body and recovering smoothly into a full-tilt sprint. The man behind me howls, boiling mad, enraged, and I turn around and give him the finger. With his night vision he sees me and snarls. I laugh, stick out my tongue, and continue on my way.

Cue the badass rock music. My mad dash to escape continues for many miles along empty, moonlit roads, underscored by heavy bass, thrashing percussion, and a sweet guitar drawling as I sprint, never tiring and aided by the magic, down dirt roads. I can keep this up, but not forever. I need a more efficient way to escape, so I put the brakes on, hard. I skid over several feet to a stop, feet digging tracks in the road, leaning into it like a skater. I stop and check my feet- no damage. It seems I have been favored tonight. It's a good thing, because I'm not yet clear.

I take a wide stance and squat a little. I twist my hands into the owl sigil, and I say, "Become," and my bones creak and roll and hollow out, and my feathers come in and my head feels squished and then I see my beak and feel my talons and the trees grow taller and then I flap my wings hard, take off and hover a second, still flapping, then I ascend. I propel myself with magic-aided wings, and will a warm breeze underneath to buoy me to the skies. It bobs me up among the clouds, high above the ground, and I see everything diminish. The owl's vision is sharper than mine and just as good in the night. I bust through a cloud and suddenly the moon, large and demanding, is before me.

Its vibrant rays paralyze me in ecstasy, and the owl has to take over my body. I am held in its thrall, unable to do anything but gaze directly into the moon's face. It whispers many Words to me, Words too complex and overwhelming to understand. I am bombarded with images- glaring eyes in the dark- blood washing over the land like a flood- the eye of the storm, churning about on every side, a battle frozen in awe- my captor, in warm sunshine, atop a white blanket- a marble man with a glass face, lit by the light of fire- a dark man atop a throne of ash, tempting and poison- an unspeakably evil entity at the edge of things, pulling strings at the fabric of life, it sees me and smiles, it laughs uproariously at me- and then my vision returns and the moon whispers Be not afraid, child. All is as meant. Thy Wyrd is yet pure... and the voice fades and I regain my body and realize I am above a city, an urban outsprawl.

I home in on civilization and descend, scouting a place to land. I have no idea where I am, having just escaped the clutches of my original captor Jareth and his underground cult. I have no intention of going back to them, I'll take my own life first. If that other guy, the big lumberjack howling man, hadn't stopped the transport van I'd still be in the dungeons, shackled to The Rock, wasting away but never allowed to die. I'll give my thanks for that one, but he kidnapped me too, so he can get fucked as far as I'm concerned.

I see a huge mall in the skyline. I angle toward it. A perfect place to disguise myself and figure out my next move. This has been a real lucky night so far- I hope it holds. I land in a little wooded area behind the mall, reassume my human form. I am naked, a caveat of the transfiguring magic, and I look around, hoping to spot an outfit conveniently left on a hanger in the trees for me. Finding none, I keep low and to the cover of the trees, searching for any opportunity to nab some threads.

A man walks by, presumably to his car, dressed in boring dad jeans, a polo shirt, and a large brown jacket. I think his feet are too small for me, but I can probably make it work. I reach into my well of magic, now considerably depleted, and raise a Charm. "Entice," I whisper, and the man stops short, stopped by some realization or force, turns his head and looks straight at me. He drinks in my nakedness and his pupils dilate. He walks to me, propelled by his desire, and I pose for him on a nearby tree.

I show my long legs, my powerful arms, and my solid torso. I stretch and extend a hand to him. He crashes though the brush in his lust, and I can see the indent of a bulge in his jeans. As he comes closer I see he is short and stout, a round belly, and is balding. He has a handsome face and large hands and he comes close to enough to grasp me and pushes on my shoulder, forcing me, no, needing me to kneel- so I kneel for him. He frees his cock, a short but thick stem and a pronounced, flared head. His balls dangle, bushy and smallish. I open my mouth and he shoves his cock in as far as it will go. He moans as he is enveloped in my scorching mouth, and I suck him off like a pro.

He fucks my face, hard at first and then violent. I don't gag, I just let my throat open and drool all over his knob, and he works himself into a frenzy. His balls slap against my face and make fleshy thuds as he holds my head steady, force feeding me his cock with aggression, the power of my Charm possessing him. Suddenly his face contorts and he lets out a pained sort of noise and holds his cock as far down my throat as it will go, and I feel his cum slopping down my throat, his balls squished against either side of my chin. When he is finished, he fucks my throat again, harder, and I do gag this time. He is standing directly above my face, legs against my shoulders, and my throat is an open receptacle for his dick. He slams it extra hard into my throat and I cough so hard that it gets stuck in there, which makes me cough harder. He is moaning as my throat convulses around his cock and he cums again, yanks it out of my throat and I don't even have time to gasp before he rams in back in and fucks my face. Perhaps I Charmed him a little too well. I'm losing air and my vision blackens, and then he cums a third time, the orgasm violently possessing his body, and he pulls his dick out.

I gasp, the air harsh on my deflated lungs and violated throat. The man sighs once, a little cum dribbles out of his tip, and he passes out on the spot, just crumples to the ground. I am on all fours, coughing and struggling not to. I overdid it with the Charm- I could have gotten myself killed. I need to be more careful. I manage to stop coughing and work on recovering my breath. My throat is so raw, it hurts even to breathe. I wonder if I'll be able to talk like this. I can't stay here though, so I keep moving.

I work the man's clothes off and put them on, finding them tight in some places and baggy in others. A terrible fit. I look like a hobo- but then again I technically am, so what? In that spirit, I take all the cash in his wallet, about a hundred and fifty dollars, actually, a stroke of luck- and well earned cash, in my opinion. I finish dressing and walk real brisk to the mall entrance. I do my best to look like a normal person, hoping to remain undetected and arouse no suspicion.

I walk aimlessly, deciding on whether to buy food or clothes first. I decide on food first. I haven't been fed in days- and I haven't had a full meal in years. They didn't feed me much in The Dungeon. I come across a pretzel shop and my mouth waters at the picture of that salty, buttery pretzel. When was the last time I had a fucking pretzel? I must have been a kid, it must have been before Jareth and the Circle, if there ever was a time. I shake off those thoughts and I buy three "giant" pretzels, one plain, one with cheese, and one with cinnamon sugar. I devour them. The woman who sold them to me is more than a little disgusted and kind of afraid. I smile at her, a real garish grimace, teeth probably full of pretzel. She balks and looks away, gazing intently at the pretzel toppings.

Then I decide to purchase supplies. I want to be ready for everything, so I find a shop that sells things I am looking for- compact utensils, MREs, knives, matches, survival gear- and stuff several items into a backpack. Miraculously, no one sees me. I hold my breath as I leave, hoping the magic holds out long enough to escape. No one notices or raises alarm as I walk out with a backpack full of goods.

My next move is to clean up a bit. I am regularly bathed for ritual purposes, but I am dirty from all that running and flying. And from sucking that strange man's cock. I need to find a shower. Clothes. A shelter. I walk past a fancy clothing store and in the corner of my eye, I see a ripple, just at the doorway. It's very subtle, just a little ripple in between the shoplifting censors, hovering at waist height. I look around, just shoppers in every direction, I don't think I've been caught yet, but you can never be too sure. I reach for the ripple and to my surprise it is actually a hole, and my hand passes through it. I can't see my hand but I can feel a doorknob, and my arm looks like it doesn't have its hand, so I pull the knob quick so I don't draw attention to myself. I feel a door open and I walk in it, and as I walk through the store is no longer the clothes store but appears to be a store of many things.

It is dimly lit and done in dark, old wood. Candles are the only light, though some shine with supernatural brilliance. Before me is a table of knickknacks, with labels like escape bomb and time freezer. A black cat jumps onto the counter, I instinctively reach out my hand and invite it to sniff me- a cat handshake. It acknowledges my greeting but doesn't invite me to pet it.

Instead, it says, "Welcome, how may I assist you today?"

And dumb, in shock I say, "Good thanks, how are you?"

It laughs at me and says, "First time guest?" I nod. It stretches, its powerful muscles rolling and its claws out, then recovers and purrs, "Allow to me to show you around," and before my eyes the cat transforms into a tiny man. His shaggy black hair is just as the cat's fur. His amber eyes are just as the cat's too. He is small and wiry, lean muscles and oozing sexuality. His face is angular. He has high, strong cheekbones. He hops neatly down from the counter, dressed in nothing, and saunters further into the shop, long tail twitching.

Apparently I am expected to follow, so I walk behind the little man. He can't be much older than me, and I'm probably at least in my early twenties. I don't really remember when I was born but I'm definitely not a kid. His ass sways irresistibly, his sumptuous, bubble ass, and he walks with a sexual confidence, as if owner of all before him, not bothered in the slightest of his nudity. I try not to let it distract me. "...carry on the finest goods from across the realm. Are you looking for something specific today, sir?" he says, eye-fucking me and looking directly at my package, which bulges painfully in the too-small jeans and obviously shows my need for release, yet unsatisfied from earlier.

"I'm looking for new clothes," I say, and he chuckles.

"You'd be better off without," he says, and I don't miss the implication, and he continues, "but I'd be happy to show you where they are," and he leads me off to another room filled with clothes. "Let me know if you need anything," he purrs, and begins to saunter off.

Before he can, I call, "I've never bought my own clothes. Can you help me choose some?" and he smiles real big and toothy, and he nods, pupils dilated.

"We'll need to get you out of those rags first," he coos, "so I can get a better idea of your... fit," he purrs. He removes my clothes for me, it's a bit awkward because I have to bend way down for him.

My scars, burns, and tattoos are revealed as he peels my clothes off. His eyes wide, transfixed, stare at them. He lips murmur and I recognize the traces of the ancient forbidden language. His eyes find mine and search for something, I don't know what. Apparently he is satisfied with what he finds, and as he is removing my shirt I am face to face with his stiff little prick. I can't help myself, I lick at it, and he growls a little.

"Don't tease me, kitten. Just go ahead and take what you want."

I don't need any more invitation, so I swallow his dick whole and massage it with my battered throat. It hurts to suck even this tiny little cock, but it's manageable pain. Jareth and the Circle put me through a lot worse on a regular basis, so I make sure to give this cat-man a good, sloppy blowjob. He moans and makes all sorts of strange noises and hooks his leg on my shoulder, feeding me his cock in short bursts from a better angle. My cock is uncomfortably hard. Finally I feel his hot cum spurting down my throat, my second load in less than an hour, and instead of extracting himself he presents me with his little pink hole.

"I think you know what I want," he purrs, and who am I to not oblige him?

I dive into his asshole, licking and sucking and slurping at my delicious treat, he with one leg slung over my shoulder, the lithe muscles rippling as I thoroughly rim him. He mewls now, little moans of appreciation, and his hole opens up for me with ease. I stick as much of my tongue as I can get in there, savoring every taste and texture. I go in deep and he jumps, growls, and throws me on my back.

"Don't work so hard, honey," he says, straddling me and positioning himself directly over my swollen cock. "I like to have control," and he slides onto me in one smooth action. I gasp as his fiery heat chokes my cock, I'm shocked he can fit it all into that cute little hole, and he jacks me off with his ass. He scratches my chest and leaves little marks, mewling, riding me with the frenzy of a beast. I don't do much more than lay, pumping occasionally but every time I try he holds me down. I can't think anymore, I only know the sweet friction of my cock and his hole, and he pounds himself mercilessly on my shaft. He picks up the tempo, wilder and more erratic, and screeches as he lets another blast of cum loose on my abs. He spurts a few times, promptly twists around, swallows several of my toes, and shoves a finger in my ass, blasting my spot. The combination of surprise and sensation has me about to blow. I whimper, in desperate need of release.

"Now you can come, honey. Give it to me," he says, and I come immediately, hard. I piston seven or eight shots into his tight, scorching ass and it dribbles down my rod, spooging on my body and the floor. Finally the cat-man is satiated and he climbs off me, then offers a hand to help me off the ground.

"Just what I needed, thanks," he says, and I nod, and smile, sheepish. "Let me see what I can find for you, I think have just the thing..." he purrs and sashays away, my cum dripping down his legs. "There's a room to wash to your right," he calls over his shoulder and I clean myself up.

I look in the mirror and see a wild man. It's the first time I've seen my reflection in years. Jareth and the Circle would not allow me to see my own reflection because they feared it would enforce unhealthy ideas about my independence. And now here I am, staring at a face I haven't seen since I was a child. It's fuller now, and more angular; handsome, even, if it only because of vanity. A small scar at my lip, bequeathed unto me during a one of Jareth's ceremonies. My hard grey eyes stare back, a challenge from my reflection. I did it. I escaped. I prayed every day for deliverance and here I am, making my own way.

I think briefly about the hot howling man who gave chase to me, my second captor. I hope he isn't in too much trouble for losing me. It would be a shame if I didn't get to ride his big, muscled body the way the mysterious cat-man just rode me.

"I have blue and black, perfect for your frame and color," he says. I don the clothing, nondescript and perfect for hiding, and mumble my thanks. I pull out my wallet to pay him, but he refuses to allow it, saying only, "I have all the payment I need." I smile and nod and thank him again, saying I must be on my way.