The Standup Boys' Runaway

Slowly, gently, the hand wrapped its fingers around him, and soft points of pressure tickled his nerves. His heart raced. His cock twitched, beginning to rise under her sinister touching.

Then thunder clapped.

The monster girl jerked, letting go of his cock, and staggered back. Vot coughed, trying to undo the kiss. When his senses recovered, he saw the monster girl standing aside. Reaching into a bloody patch on her lower back, she dug out a little leaden ball. Baring her six arms, she snarled, the air in her voice gone.

Across from her stood a rough-looking woman partially obscured by the grey cloud that issued from the semiautomatic pistol in her right hand. "How would you like another one?" said Hashura Tlanna.

It was her. It was that banished Izazi woman who had accosted them before, spinning them her yarn about a land that upset compasses.

The monster girl flexed her arms, circling Hashura for a minute, then bounded away, leaving the two of them alone.

Vot faced Hashura, knowing that he could never outrun her. "Great," he said. "Now you're here instead of her. Thought my whoring days were over."

"Relax," said Hashura, standing in front of him. "I don't want daughters."

"Sons, then? Got to warn you, they'll look like me. Scrawny, dirty little me. That what you want?"

"I don't want sons either. I want a kiss, and nothing more."

Vot stopped, baffled. Hashura's eyes played over his body, traveling from his face down his sweating chest, across his taut thighs and onto his cock, still partially erect. Vot considered covering himself, but didn't want to give her the satisfaction.

Hashura stepped up to him, and he prepared himself to dash for freedom, but she leaned in, planted a soft kiss on his lips, and stepped back. Swiping his kilt from the ground, she handed it back to him. "Can you find your way back?"

"I don't need your help."

She disappeared into the brush.

On that, he was alone. He took off, not planning to let another monster girl take advantage of his stillness, and hurried back to the other men, following the trail of broken branches and shredded leaves.

The men were still there, although it seemed nearly a third of the crowd had been dragged away. Gun smoke hung in the air, stinging Vot's nostrils, and there were even spots of blood where the machete-men had fought the monster girls. Not many remained.

One monster girl lay on her stomach in the middle of the crowd, her back pockmarked with three musket balls, each of which should have killed her, yet she was still breathing. She looked nearly as alien as the one who had molested Vot, with dark blue skin and sick-looking black and brown spots all over her back. Her head was not only bald, but shiny, and she looked around at the victors with beastly intensity.

"Vot? Vot, there you are!" Vot turned just in time to see Kervin pile into him with a hug, clutching him with a grip that was almost painful. "Vot, I saw you dragged away! I thought they had you! We almost lost you like the others!"

"A lot of the others," said Vot.

"Oh, but we made it! We made it, we made it, we made it!"

Finally, Vot relaxed. "Glad to see you too, Kervin."

For a moment, the world was peaceful, then a brute male voice pounded the air: "Alright! Listen up!" It was the tattooed man, and he stood with one foot on the back of the spotted monster girl. "These bitches thought they could use us, just like our wives did! Well, I've gone one thing to show her!" With a rough hand, he pulled the spotted girl up, showing her bright blue breasts to the crowd, then stepped around in front of her. Reaching under his loincloth, he pulled out an erection, pumping it finger-widths in front of her face. "Suck it!" he commanded.

The monster girl looked around, her eyes looking more quizzical than afraid, then opened her mouth, closed her eyes, and gently closed her lips around his cock. Her head began pump back and forth.

The men raised a vindictive cheer, and Vot added his voice. Suddenly, the lost men seemed less ominous. After all, if a monster girl had been brought to her knees, what could any female do to stop them?

"That's enough!" Fingir stepped in, shoving the monster girl's head away. "We are not safe here. Bruin, you can keep your prisoner, but we must keep moving. From now on, we'll stay together. Everyone needs a partner."

Kervin and Vot traded looks. "No problem," said Vot.

* * *

The jungle hadn't gotten any thinner. Indeed, unless Kervin's failing stamina was playing tricks on him, it had somehow gotten thicker. The machete-men at the front hacked so hard that they sweated. The men worked in shifts, and when one's shift ended, he came back looking so whipped that Kervin was tempted to offer to take up the machete and try his own hand at it. But he did not, because he knew he would never last. The machete-men were cut from low-born cloth, where even the men did hard labor, and Kervin could never hope to match their strength.

"Hold!" came the cry from in front.

"Now what?" Kervin let slip.

"Women ahead!" cried one of the machete men. "A group of them! Get ready!"

Weapons rattled. Even the exhausted men perked up. Guns muscled their way to good firing locations, the shooters ready—even eager—for another fight.

Vot, to his credit, looked appropriately unnerved.

Women stepped out of the trees, and this time it was not an ambush. They came slowly, their movement smooth even on the jungle ground. A few of them had weapons, but none held them at the ready, and more tellingly, their blue and green eyes were open wide. They had come to see, not to take.

For covering, they wore flaps of what looked like plant fiber, just extensive enough to keep the mosquitoes away without stifling them. Their skin seemed lighter than was the Izazi norm, although it may have looked that way only because of the green and black streaks painted on their limbs.

A leader emerged and stood tall, wooden jewelry dangling from the braids in her hair, her mouth firm and her eyes demanding. Weapons aimed at her, and she did not acknowledge them.

"It's true," she said at last. "The tribe of many males."

"You bet it's true!" blustered one of the gunmen. "And if you have anything to say about it, you'd better be ready for a fight."

Kervin winced at his rashness.

"We do not come to fight," said the wood-bejeweled chief. "We come to see if it's true."

"Now you've seen it," sneered the gunner. "Now run off."

"We come to know how you will survive," she went on obliviously. "Izazi need their walls. Some women come out here and live. Ones and twos live, but never this many. And never males. How will you do it?"

"I'll show you how!" thundered a familiar, boisterous voice. Bruin, the tattooed muscle-man, swaggered up to the chieftain, leading the monster girl by a collar and leash. The girl did not stumble after him or tug against him, but kept her balance serenely, even with her hands bound to her hips, forcing her bare breasts to jiggle as she walked.

The chieftain peered at the monster girl, her eyes scanning every inch of the blue girl's exotic form. "You have one of the wild ones. You tame her." She looked away. "Where is your camp?"

The men looked to each other. Fingir's group of five quickly assembled, their soft voices rumbling with uncertainty.

The chieftain propped on foot up on a rock, leaning forward like a mother lecturing her children. "If you have no camp, they will eat you. Thunder-spears do not last forever."

"Where do you suggest?" asked Fingir, his hands clasped smartly behind his back.

"You want help," said the chief. "You must trade for it. You are many males. My daughter needs a male. Trade us two of yours, and we show you."

"You would have me bargain with the lives of my own men?" Fingir shook his head. "Ask for something else."

"Nothing is worth as much as a male," said the chief. "We can live without thunder-spears. But not without males. Without males, we are nothing."

"Perhaps you would accept some of our fine cloths."

"Only Males. Males for the daughters."

"That's enough!" Bruin burst in. He forced a finger at the chief. "We are not your slaves!"

The chief stood up straight. "Then where will you build?"

For the briefest moment, Bruin looked stymied. Then he returned, "We'll build right here!"

The chief let out a chuckle. "In the thick of it?"

"Just watch!"

Fingir reached up and grabbed Bruin's shoulder. "Bruin!" he said harshly, "You do not speak for all of us."

"Oh, I don't?" He faced the crowd, flinging out his hands. "Look at Fingir! He thinks he speaks for everyone, selling us out to the women! Let's all follow him! Let's all deal with these savages who just want us as fuck-slaves! It's brilliant!"

Kervin furrowed his brow. He didn't like the sound of this.

"Or," Bruin went on, "we'll do what we came here to do! We'll build our own damn city! We'll defend ourselves! And we'll be strong on our own two feet! Who's with me?"

Voices rose all over. Knives were thrust into the air. A musket fired skyward, leaving its geyser of grey to drift in the breeze. Even Vot gave his scratchy roar to the fanfare.

Kervin grabbed Vot by the shoulders and faced him. "How can you support that maniac?"

"Who else?" Vot's hands clamped down Kervin's. "Can't stay nomadic forever. It's time to put down some roots!"

Kervin wanted to argue, but one look around showed him that Vot's opinion would carry the day.

Bruin began gesturing wildly. "Fell the trees! Pull up the grass! Throw away the rocks! We're making our city right here, right now!"

The whole crowd fell into a frenzy of motion, and that sealed it. "Nothing for it but to try," said Kervin, as he knelt and began pulling up ferns.

* * *

Vot sat down with Kervin, slumping down onto a boulder they had chosen not to move. It would be the table, they had decided, in the hut they would build together.

All around, the men had worked themselves sore clearing away the forest. Jagged stumps were all that remained of great trees. Grass and moss had been pulled up along with the whole top layer of jungle soil, all massed into a heap in the middle of their clearing to do who-knew-what with. Standup, they called this place—the city of Standup, where men stood up for themselves.

It had taken all day, and still the clearing was too small, with each man having barely enough room to swing his own arms. They would clear more jungle, but not before a good rest.

Work had braced Kervin. Grime had glued his hair into bunches, but his bare chest glistened with sweat, and his warmed-up muscles showed on his arms. Upper-class or not, the man had strength.

"Kervin?" said Vot.

Kervin looked lazily over to him. "Yes?"

"We did well."

"Yes."

"Kervin?"

Sucking in a deep breath, Kervin gathered himself. "Yes? What is it?"

"Can I do something strange?"

Kervin laughed. "Look at all this! Look at what we're doing. We're strange, brave men, Vot. Do what you will."

Edging himself closer, Vot reached up and hooked two fingers around Kervin's handsome chin, turning the man's head to face him. Vot wanted to hesitate, but forbade himself. He leaned in, planting a warm, easy kiss on Kervin's lips.

Kervin blinked a few times. "Vot... you too?" He took Vot's hand. Then he took the other. "You really feel that way about me?"

Vot grinned. "Didn't kiss you for nothing."

Kervin's mouth fell open, then he swallowed up the smaller man in a hug. "I can't believe it! You're the same way I am!"

Vot stroked Kervin's hot, slick chest. "I love you, Kervin. We men are allies, all of us. But you're special."

Kervin did not respond, but only kept holding Vot, those arms making him feel safer than they had any right to.

Bruin's voice burst through the silence. "Line up, volunteers to serve on the guard!"

Vot shifted.

"You're not going to join, are you?" said Kervin.

"Only if you're there with me."

Kervin laughed nervously. "I leave that to harder men."

Vot's fingers poked at his groin, where a thick erection pushed against his pants. "Harder than this?"

Kervin laughed.

When Vot saw Fingir, he shifted a little to pay attention. The old man—he really looked old now, not middle-aged—watched despairingly as armed men accrued around Bruin, eagerly jostling for assignment.

Vot and Kervin stepped up to Fingir, and Kervin put a hand on the old man's shoulder, saying, "This isn't what you imagined, is it?"

"This is my movement," said Fingir. "This was nothing before I created it. Now they act as if they can simply shove me aside."

"They can," said Vot. "What's going to stop them?"

Fingir gaped at him, but made no answer.

Ahead of them, a few men erected a wooden post in the soil. Soon, it would be a hut.

* * *

Vot let out a sigh. At last, the light was dying down. The sun had set hours ago, and the men had lit torches to keep working by, but now even those were starting to ebb. Even after thirty hours after their last good night's sleep, after their exhausting trek and their battle with the monster girls, the bulk of the men only now began to tire.

A few crude posts in the ground marked where a simple wall would surround the city, an echo of Izaz. Armed men stood at intervals, chatting warmly while watching the jungle. Inside, tents and lean-tos had gone up, with the foundations of grander buildings optimistically staked out in the soil.

Vot and Kervin had done better. A skeleton of posts awkwardly stuck into the ground held up a square canvas one woman-height on the side, with enough left over that it draped down the sides, making walls that met the soil. The hut was empty except for Kervin's household idol, lovingly placed on patch of leveled dirt in the edge and surrounded by smooth stones. They would need to stock up on supplies, and the posts would need to be unearthed and properly set another day, but for now, this would do.

In front of Vot, Kervin stood proudly in the middle, sweaty but smiling, tall and proud. "We did it, Vot. Our own little house in our own little city. And no wife to boss us around."

"No wife to throw you in bed when she wants it, right?" Vot made an evil smile. "That's what I'm for."

Kervin lit up. "You really..."

"Your foot."

"I'm sorry?"

"Look."

Kervin looked, and a little weed in the mud had wrapped itself over his right foot. A few other shoots rose from the muddy ground.

Two palms on Kervin's chest and a single, stout push sent the taller man sprawling on his back. He looked up, shocked, then cringed as the weeds curled around his fingers, then his wrists, pinning him to the ground. Finally, his face brightened with understanding.

With a purr, Vot lowered himself to straddle Kervin, gently pushing aside his windbreaker. "Tangle weed. Didn't leave it here on purpose, but it's got its uses." He lowered his mouth to Kervin's ear. "Are you ready?"

The 'yes' was so breathy and faint that Vot almost did not hear it.

He began at Kervin's chin, fingers tracing the smooth, clean line of his jaw to the tip, then crawling down his neck.

Kervin gave a spasm, pulling against the weeds, but Vot easily pressed his arms down. "Hush," Vot whispered. "You said 'yes.' Can't stop me now." He punctuated this with a kiss on the lips, hands exploring Kervin's pectoral muscles as his tongue played around in Kervin's mouth. Without letting go of Kervin's lips, Vot let his fingers trail down his body to his waist. Vot kept sucking as he grabbed for Kervin's shaft and was rewarded with the sensation of thick, hot flesh between his fingers. He squeezed, and Kervin moaned, going tense in his bonds but putting up no resistance.

Vot adjusted his fingers, pumping steadily and feeling Kervin squirm beneath him. He sucked harder on Kervin's mouth as his fingers worked faster, until finally Kervin gave in, and Vot could feel the muscles on the underside of his shaft straining as he released himself.

Finally, Vot let go of Kervin's mouth, a thin saliva string still connecting their lips. The two men smiled at each other even as they panted.

"Amazing," said Kervin. "I had no idea you could do that."

"Practice," Vot replied. "Not with men, but still practice."

"Will you let me out of these vines?"

Vot rested his head on Kervin's chest, letting his head nuzzle up against the bigger man's chin. "No."

Kervin's breathing slowed, and Vot breathed with him. The first time he dozed off, he realized that he was more relaxed than he had ever let himself be on the streets.

The jungle was dark and dangerous, but together with Kervin in that tent, he felt is if nothing could hurt them.

* * *

Atsree crouched in the brush, her tail twitching, watching those strange boys in their new clearing they had slashed and burned out in the jungle. Atsree couldn't see them, but she could smell them. All males, without a single female to protect them—nothing but hard meat for the taking.

She hunkered down beneath the leaves and laughed.