The Afflicted Ch. 09

"It doesn't have the same effect when you swallow it," rationalized Abby. "There aren't as many nerves in the mouth, and they are a different type."

They had a lot of fun with that element before departing for the bathroom attached to that room, bringing the boys with them. Poor Jacob was forced to watch as the two girls bathed each other in the shower, and then pulled Claude in to join them -- giving him his reward. What Jacob didn't see was the way the girls carefully maneuvered things to that Claude would not have the chance to enter Aimée again.

Jacob sat on the counter as each of the girls sucked Claude to the edge, then brought him back down. Next Abby let him take her from behind, the water pouring over both of them as he pounded her so hard the water splashed everywhere.

Finally, Claude took flight with Abby. Aimée used that as an excuse to take pity on Jacob. She sat with him on the counter and stroked him vigorously as her brother fucked Abby mid-air in front of them. It was Jacob who came first this time, and Aimée pondered whether the fountain that poured from his long and elegant organ would have beaten Claude's winning amount.

How much Claude came was hard to tell, but he poured himself into Abby's hungry pussy and a very impressive amount leaked out, Abby's petite form not being able to contain his output.

A few minutes later the girls were gathering their clothes.

"Sorry boys, gotta go," said Aimée. "Maybe we'll see you in classes."

"How about tonight?" asked Claude.

"We talked about that," said Abby. "We can't risk this very often. You'll just have to satisfy your needs on the other girls."

She and Abby nodded in secret agreement.

Preparing to go, Abby reached out with her senses to scan for the presence of people in their own dorm.

"Oppo is... busy and we could startle him. Anders is... I can't get a lock on him. What about Jackie? Oh, there she is. She's asleep by herself, I believe. Here, let me show you."

Abby touched Aimée's shoulder and through the contact transmitted the presence of Jackie.

A few seconds later, Jackie awoke to the sound of a small 'pop'. She looked up drowsily to see Aimée and Abby climbing into other beds in the room.

* * * *

Frederique and Palo had explored every inch of their opulent temporary quarters. The gymnasium had certainly been put to great use, many many times. They had also 'explored' the master suite, the guest bedrooms, and every other room except the main kitchen and the pantry -- which were next on their list.

She tried not to resent Palo, who had had been allowed to attend combat training AND venture out into New York -- both in the Afflicted below areas as well as the surface during the night. His face was not plastered on countless statues and displayed on paintings in nearly every Afflicted household. That was the price one paid for becoming a martyr and then showing up alive nearly a century later.

Though the reports had run rampant through the community, Scaurus and his lieutenants had managed to sufficiently obscure the news that Frederique was alive so that the few who did know kept quiet, and those who thought they knew believed they'd been misinformed. The rumors had begun flying that it was not New York but St. Petersburg where Frederique had been seen. Others said that she was in fact heading up the new Christchurch, New Zealand settlement, and many others thought she was ensconced deep in the heart of the Iceland headquarters. There was also a majority of people who still believed that the rumors were false and their heroine was in fact dead.

Though she had protested, she knew in her heart that Scaurus was right in keeping her secluded. There had been too much odd behavior of late, and the way the black guard had attacked their ship had been too well planned to be coincidental.

All the same, it didn't stop her from being stir crazy. She had spent weeks aboard the Siren, the last two primarily below decks. Shortly after her arrival in New York she had been whisked off to this opulent home and kept there and she was not even allowed to see her children.

At least today, Scaurus had promised she would have a visitor.

She was sitting in the library, reading through a Latin volume she had last seen in her father's library over two-hundred years before. It was elegant poetry, last attributed to Cicero but actually belonging to the playwright Terrence. Reading the verses describing long-past battles, she could almost hear her father reciting it to her in her childhood. The work contained a few racy lines detailing the soldiers visit to a brothel following a battle, and for that reason the Catholic Church had destroyed all copies -- but here was one transcribed by a monk in Russia in the year 987.

The timing was perfect. She had just finished the final lines and closed the book, brushing back a few tears, when the bell rang. She dashed to the secret entrance which was accessible only by a little-known private tunnel. Peering through the prism'd and smoked viewport, she was able to make out Scaurus and Palo. All good, but no one new.

Her heart sank, but it would still be good to see Palo, who her body was yearning for. She moved to the mouthpiece. She contemplated what verification phrase she should use, and then noticed the slender volume of poetry still in her hand.

In correctly pronounced ancient Latin, she spoke:

"Legistis, male me marem putatis?"

She quickly peered through the viewport and was pleased to see Scaurus chuckling before he replied:

"Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo"

She threw the door open and hugged Scaurus fiercely.

"Ooh Scaurus, do you promise? Do you promise to fuck my ass and rape my mouth? How fun that would be, no?"

"Ah my dear," grumbled the old soldier, who tried to frown -- though he could never help himself from smiling in her presence. "I think I'll leave that to your warrior husband."

"Warrior, eh?" she said, leaping into Palo's arms. "That's quite a compliment, my dear; to be called a warrior by Scaurus."

"I'm improving, I think," said Palo humbly.

"He's doing more than that," said Scaurus. "He's risen to the top. He's learned to let the flying replace the footwork and to think on every axis. I'd put him up against anyone, Frederique."

"Even me?" she said, sliding out of Palo's arms and taking his hand in hers.

"My dear," said Scaurus, "I wouldn't put myself against you on a good day."

Palo looked at his wife in wonder. He had been working with Scaurus long enough to know the sort of praise this was.

"All of these years, darling," he said, "how easy were you going on me during training? How much effort were you putting into your fighting? Fifty percent?"

"Perhaps forty," she said. "But you learned well -- as much as I could teach you. As Scaurus told you, I'm not a good instructor. However, I should take you both into the gym right now and teach you a lesson. You promised to bring me someone today."

"Who says they didn't?" said a shockingly familiar voice.

Galen stepped out from behind the corner. Directly behind him was the young woman, Colette.

Frederique's hand flew to her mouth. Tears sprang to her eyes unbidden, but she soon brushed them away and looked at the ancient physician with an upturned chin.

"Who let this quack in? What sort of snake oil is he selling today?"

"The kind that can cure a six-hundred year old French whore of her wanton ways," said Galen, returning the volley. "Look at you, Frederique. Six centuries and you still haven't learned how to be any less beautiful."

"Who are you calling a whore?" she said. "I've never charged for it."

"That's because no one in all the world could afford you, my dear."

She dashed to him and hugged him fiercely, bathing his face in kisses.

"Oh my dear, dear man," she cried. "Where have you been? How I have missed you."

Truth be told, Galen himself was shedding more than a few tears. He pulled Frederique into a fierce hug that neither of them wanted to give up.

"But I was told you were... fading, was the word Scaurus used," said Frederique. "Is this true? If so, what has brought you back?"

"My dear, I was certainly in poor spirits," said the ancient physician. "In regard to what has brought me back, it would be this dear girl here."

For the first time, Frederique noticed Colette who had been standing in the background to witness the loving reunion.

"I would hardly say that," said the curvaceous and lovely woman. "It was you, Frederique - you and your children. When our beloved docteur heard you had resurfaced, and he learned of your gifted children faced with finding a mate -- he was an instantly changed man."

"My dear Galen," said Frederique warmly. "I should hardly think I was worth such attention -- but if I am truly the reason for you being here -- I am glad. But come, come inside. We have much to discuss."

"More than you would know," said Galen. "And I hope you don't mind, but Scaurus has suggested we take up residence here as well until we get everything sorted."

"I don't know," said Palo sarcastically. "We hardly have the room -- but I suppose we can squeeze you in."

"Good," said Scaurus. "The second kitchen will make a wonderful laboratory for Galen, and he has much work to do."

"This will be delightful," said Frederique.

She placed her arm through Galen's and led him in for a tour. At the same time, she couldn't help but notice the sideways glances Palo had been shooting toward Colette. More than a few ideas began percolating in the beautiful Frederique's mind.

"We can just stay a short while," said Galen. "I have something to attend to at the clinic today."

"But you will return today, yes?" asked Frederique, snuggling into him.

"Wild horses couldn't keep us away, my dear."

* * * *

"Again!" cried the sword master.

Her name was Maddie and she was an Irish taskmistress if ever there was one.

Claude dodged in and out, twisting his body at the same time as his thrust. Most other opponents would have been wounded or disarmed, but Claude was once again facing Oppo -- who anticipated the motion and parried Claude's blade aside. It took every ounce of luck and talent Claude could muster to avoid being wounded himself.

"Good, Oppo . Sloppy, Claude!" shouted Maddie. "How many times have I told you not to get fancy. Technique first, strength second."

If she weren't so lovely and didn't have such a hypnotic lilt with her Irish accent, Claude would have felt even more chastised. That was the difference between Scaurus and Maddie. Scaurus was the original old-school, shouting the lessons into them. Maddie was tough, but nurturing.

The only difficulty with having Maddie as an instructor was her beauty.

She was not a slender reed by any means, but that made her even more desirable. Surrounded as they were by youthful and slender bodies which were lovely but had yet to ripen, Maddie's broad hips and ample bosom (earned through two centuries of strong appetites) made her seem more attractive by comparison in many ways. Every one of the male cadets had experienced at least one fantasy-filled dream about what it might be to lay with Maddie. The tightly laced battle corset she wore did not help matters, pushing her ample assets even higher.

Scaurus had once asked her about her choice in clothing for training, and he had found her reasoning was sound.

"It's not like their lives will ever be free of the lasses," she explained. "There will always be a woman round the corner or on their minds. With this damned Affliction driving their loins, sex will always be occupying more of their thoughts than a typical human male. If they've been bedded hours ago in the dorm and can't keep their minds off a nice pair of tits in training, how are they going to be when they've been in the field for three days?"

Of course, she didn't mention to Scaurus that she certainly didn't mind the attention.

She called the trainees to the ground and stood in the center of the group. Maddie began talking and noticed a couple of sets of eyes drifting downward. Claude was one, so she took his chin in her hand and lifted his face so his eyes met hers.

"Now listen, Claude -- you are turning into a good flier and you've got a lightning arm -- but you need to learn to fly just as quickly as you think."

Looking into his eyes, she could sense his frustration and saw he was about to say something, but was holding back.

"What is it, lad?" she asked. "What do you want to say?"

"Well, it's just yesterday you said that I needed to stop thinking. Now you're saying I need to fly as quickly as I think."

"I know, I know," she said, giving an affectionate slap to his cheek. "The point is, you need to make thought and flight synonymous. How to put this? Well, let me ask. How many of you have ever had sex?"

A chuckle went through the crowd. With the sexual hunger brought on by the Affliction, the question was beyond ridiculous.

"The point is," said Maddie, "when you have sex -- when you have terrifically good, stunning sex, you surrender yourself to the moment, right?"

They all nodded, realizing the truth of her words.

"Then think of this, young people," she said. "You are humans capable of flight. Millions of people would give their right arms for that ability. Surrender to flight like you do to sex. Yes, you must be careful. However, it is surprising to learn that caution comes more naturally than you would expect. Birds do not contemplate the consequences should they pull out of a dive too late. They just do. When you fly you must do the same. Just fly. If you fly with the same speed as your thoughts you will be unstoppable. Trust me on this."

She considered what the best course might be to take. She bade them to wait and then swooped up to peer over the top of the fort. It was a clear night, which was bad -- but there was a fairly open path through the harbor among the ships. She made her decision and swooped back down to retrieve the students.

Soon, there was a line of cadets skimming the water toward the marshes in New Jersey. Once there, Maddie spied an island and landed.

With the students around her, she said one simple word.

"Play."

They looked to each other curiously.

"I said, play," she stated quite simply. "That is your assignment. We've got two hours before we need to return. Your job is, plain and simple, to play. It isn't very often that you have the chance to just frolic about. That's what you should do now. No one lives in these marshes so you won't be seen. Go and play."

It took a little while, but one by one, the students departed and began flying off on their own.

At first Claude flew up to get a view of the great marsh. From the ground, it was deceptively tangled -- but when he viewed it from above, he saw that there was a sort of structure to the randomness. There were channels throughout the marsh, some longer than others, but they all joined together for the most part, forming a huge, natural maze.

He studied the pattern at length and decided on a course he wished to set for himself.

Swooping down, he gained more and more speed and then leveled off as he neared the water.

Push and pull, push and pull; that was the trick to better flying. The air was both his friend and his enemy. If he collapsed the air ahead of him, he needed to spend little effort on moving forward. He smiled at the ripple he created on the surface of the water. That ripple came from the vacuum he was creating.

He stopped then, and contemplated what the possibilities might be. His mother was a true master of the craft. She could levitate and grab objects, all by reaching out and shaping currents of air with mindboggling expertise. Claude was nowhere near that sort of talent, not yet. But, he had a good imagination and had a few ideas.

To test this, he reached out with his mind and eliminated the air in front of a small willow-like shrub. It bent toward him. Next, he pushed the air from the other side and he watched with satisfaction as the top bent down toward the water. He grinned as he released everything and the supple shrub sprang back to an upright position. He next tried to single out a single cattail and pull it toward him in a similar fashion -- to no avail. Were he hovering directly next to the shrub, he knew he would be able to coerce the tiny plant toward him. From a distance, he still didn't have the ability to manufacture such precise forces.

He turned his thoughts back to the water. His attention had been caught by the shapes he had been causing in the water. It didn't seem to merely be due to the air that he caused to rush past - there seemed to be other forces working.

He focused on a large circle in the water and collapsed the air above it. He watched in fascination as the surface of the water bowed upward toward the center of the spot he was focusing on. It was only the surface tension of the water that kept it in place. He increased his concentration and pulled even harder, the circle raised even higher, but there was a point where it would go no further.

Though he had been overtaken by bloodlust, he still had hazy memories of once when Frederique had actually scooped a stream of water. He so wished he could see her soon, not only to be near her, but to get her advice on all of the things he was learning.

He continued playing with the water and suddenly made a breakthrough. It came back to the push/pull scenario. Not only did he need to pull the water free with a vacuum; he had to find a way to push at the same time, using inward air to shape whatever water he was manipulating.

Try though he might, he could not get the hang of it. At last, out of frustration, he pulled upward on the surface of the water and sent a great circular breeze in on the sides of the circle he had formed.

The results were almost comical. He had been pulling so hard at the surface that the air he sent downward set a huge amount of the pool free and skyward. Within moments, a small rainstorm was falling down upon him.

He was soaked. There was nothing else for it but to fly around for a while to let the air dry him off.

He flew upward, surveyed the landscape once more, then set a course in his mind. Swooping down, he rushed over the surface of a long channel.

He came to a gentle curve and used a new technique which Scaurus had taught him the week prior. Just as creating a vacuum helped him move forward -- a cushion could help him steer much more effectively than simply directing his body. He banked into the turn and at the same moment pulled air toward him, creating a miniature cushion of breeze that actually pushed him in the right direction. He continued navigating the channels, dipping his finger into water for fun.

Soon, he came to a tighter series of channels, where the turns often came at a right angle or even tighter. Claude slowed his pace, but resolved to not make it easy on himself. He figured that, worst case scenario, he could escape upwards, but the 'track' he had outlined in his mind was one he wanted to complete at as high a speed as possible.

He swooshed one way and another, banking through tighter and tighter turns with growing excitement. He increased his speed and was sailing through the marsh channels. He couldn't help but shout out a great whoop at how exhilarating he was feeling. There were several moments where his flight was truly effortless, or thought-less, his mind and his body working synchronously in flight.

Then he turned a corner, going full speed, and his spirits were suddenly dampened. Before him was a hill he had not seen from the sky. Atop the hill was a copse of thick trees. Impact was unavoidable. Unless...

* * * *

Aimée was exhausted. She had spent two hours in jumping practice and was now supposed to serve as a courier.