playin' corporation games
Today, as I was taking the last of the Christmas ornaments down-it's amazing how the little mistletoes seem to multiply-when I heard a thump and a scream from 3B, Miss Bliss' apartment.
Ms. B. is the name she signes her checks with; since 1985, the law has legally allowed oneself to sign documentation with one's assumed, properly registered performer name. I did some Googling and found out that she was, indeed, a camwhore, under the name Mama Bliss. Ignoring the Oepedial undertones(brr), I went about my buisness, and never gave a second thought as to where the checks are coming from, as long as they were coming on time.
Until now.
I happened to be ten feet from the door at the time, so I dropped everything and sprinted over. I had suspected that she was shooting material in there, but I didn't have enough to throw her out on. Ms. B. had only chained the door shut, which, in this city, is woefully inadequate. I was able to take it down with one hit.
The scene was unusual, to say the least.
There was a large wolf on the ground, clad in a cybernetic fursuit. I know it was a cyberFurSuit because his penis was already half the size of his thigh and growing.
This is a common problem with these things; the suit has to draw mass from somewhere to create what it does. It is possible to use preformulated packs, but if one wants to go beyond that, the suit begins drawing mass and blood from the body.
This causes...problems.
The human body has only so much blood, and when it starts growing what's basically an extra limb, the blood gets drawn from other parts of the body.
In this case, the brain.
I had already pulled out my cellphone by the time I reached him, and relayed info from a tearful Bliss to the 911 operator, who sounded like she was holding back laughter. Another fetishist injured in the line of pooty. Hey, Frank, get a load of this one.
After the ambulance came, we stood in the slush and watched it drive off. Bliss was shivering, and I suggested we go back inside. She snapped out of her daze.
"Huh? Oh, I was just thinking." She smiled faintly, and I suddenly realized that I was standing next to a pretty, emotionally vunerable half-naked young woman. "Thinking what I'd tell my children if their father was killed by a misplaced semicolon."
My brain read that she was talking about the 'suit's code, and then froze. "C-children?" I stammered.
Her smile widened. "I was going to tell him." She stroked her stomach. "I'm pregnant. Twins, in fact."
Ms. B. is the name she signes her checks with; since 1985, the law has legally allowed oneself to sign documentation with one's assumed, properly registered performer name. I did some Googling and found out that she was, indeed, a camwhore, under the name Mama Bliss. Ignoring the Oepedial undertones(brr), I went about my buisness, and never gave a second thought as to where the checks are coming from, as long as they were coming on time.
Until now.
I happened to be ten feet from the door at the time, so I dropped everything and sprinted over. I had suspected that she was shooting material in there, but I didn't have enough to throw her out on. Ms. B. had only chained the door shut, which, in this city, is woefully inadequate. I was able to take it down with one hit.
The scene was unusual, to say the least.
There was a large wolf on the ground, clad in a cybernetic fursuit. I know it was a cyberFurSuit because his penis was already half the size of his thigh and growing.
This is a common problem with these things; the suit has to draw mass from somewhere to create what it does. It is possible to use preformulated packs, but if one wants to go beyond that, the suit begins drawing mass and blood from the body.
This causes...problems.
The human body has only so much blood, and when it starts growing what's basically an extra limb, the blood gets drawn from other parts of the body.
In this case, the brain.
I had already pulled out my cellphone by the time I reached him, and relayed info from a tearful Bliss to the 911 operator, who sounded like she was holding back laughter. Another fetishist injured in the line of pooty. Hey, Frank, get a load of this one.
After the ambulance came, we stood in the slush and watched it drive off. Bliss was shivering, and I suggested we go back inside. She snapped out of her daze.
"Huh? Oh, I was just thinking." She smiled faintly, and I suddenly realized that I was standing next to a pretty, emotionally vunerable half-naked young woman. "Thinking what I'd tell my children if their father was killed by a misplaced semicolon."
My brain read that she was talking about the 'suit's code, and then froze. "C-children?" I stammered.
Her smile widened. "I was going to tell him." She stroked her stomach. "I'm pregnant. Twins, in fact."
