explicit sex

The Mouse Vignettes · Scene 6

Not Playing Fair

Arilin Thorferra

I’ve been lying in the street napping for the past couple of hours, still a football field long, give or take a touchdown. The bullhorn near my ear wakes me up, as its shouter intends, although I doubt they have any idea what will come next. Neither do I! That’s what makes this an adventure.

Unsurprisingly, the army is back. Maybe just military-like police. They’ve had enough time to cordon off the area. so there are no pedestrians, no traffic. I’m in a glittering puddle of flashing lights. I see tanks now, and rocket launchers, and…other military…things. I should have studied how they fight kaiju. It’s a shame there are no giant robots like in the movies. I don’t have any real interest in fighting, but I’d make an exception for fighting giant robots.

“I’m going to sit up,” I say, and do so very, very slowly, making sure my hand doesn’t come down on top of anyone as I lift myself up. “All right. Now what?”

There’s no answer but the sirens. Nobody’s firing on me yet, but it’s only a matter of time. I can take my chances and play it cool, or I can see if I can rewrite the rules a little more daringly than I have so far. Hmm. If I just do that and that…

Okay. Now I have to test it. This could hurt.

“I’m gonna crush your tank!” I say in a sing-song voice, reaching down an open hand toward one.

Pandemonium breaks out. The tank I’m reaching for fires on me. Other tanks fire on me. Rocket things go off. I feel like I’m in an exploding ammunition dump in an action movie. And it does hurt. A lot. Like being kicked by a mule into a Jeep backing up over your legs.

But while it hurts, it doesn’t injure. As the fireworks die down, there’s a lot of smoke—much of it pouring directly off me—but I’m intact. My hand is now on the tank I’d threatened, fingers curled around it. I can feel the heat from its barrel, and it hurts, too, but it’s not burning me. Not now.

It takes me a few more seconds to catch my breath. Then I let go of the tank—leaving it unharmed, although I’m pretty sure I cracked its barrel—and smile down. “Sorry,” I say. “I’m not playing fair.” I stand up and begin walking, growing with each step.

By the time I reach the downtown core I’m higher than most of the buildings, mere twenty- and thirty-story trifles. I stop to swing myself in a circle around the tallest building, a delightfully cylindrical glass tower a good eighty stories high, using it like a pole. It’s taller than I am, at least for most of my swing, but it topples as I finish the circle. I manage to be just light enough on my paws—figuratively speaking—to avoid toppling with it. I’m breathing hard as I watch it fall, but not entirely from exertion. Growing makes me…excited.

The airport is, like a lot of big city airports, not truly in the city. I’m not sure how big I am by the time I reach it, but my paws have long since passed the size that they can fit on roads, and I’m sufficiently massive that just walking does create cracks in pavement, paw-shaped craters in the ground. I’m feeling distinctly needy now.

Stepping over the closest terminal building, I spot a jumbo jet, one of the ones with those interesting humps in the front, taxiing down the runway. I lick my lips. That’ll do nicely.

It only takes a few quick steps for me to be in front of the plane instead of behind it. Sirens are starting to flash here, little support vehicles skidding around the cracks as they bloom across the concrete; the rotating beacon light is playing across my hips, then my chest as I drop down in front of the aircraft.

Its jet engines rev up into a scream as the pilot tries to reverse, but I get a hand around the plane just behind the wings, rolling it toward me effortlessly.

The blunt nose hits my sex, and I gasp, gripping the plane more tightly. Letting myself lie down against the pavement, legs spread, I work the plane in, rolling my hips. That jumbo jet hump is—oh. Oh. Sorry, city bus, but you have nothing on this.

I kick my legs out through what I think is—was!—the international terminal, and start rolling my hips, thrusting the plane in and out. Oh, my climax is going to shatter all the windows in this airport—