Fuso, The Gentle Giant

Fuso, The Gentle Giant
Fuso felt fear, felt desertion, felt her life fading away. The wound she sustained in the skirmish proved to be too much. Slowly she’d been watching her bow dip more and more starboard and felt the seawater flood more and more ever so slowly. But just like snow rolling down a hill, it built up exponentially, and now her deck was awash with the deep. She felt guilty of this, she didn’t tell anyone that there was still water pouring in, she didn’t tell her officers that they were shooting at Mogami, she didn’t talk of how she felt splitting the fleet up might be bad. So now in her guilt she blamed herself for the death of her sister, the damage to Mogami, and now her own death. Tears formed at her eyes as she tried to redeem herself for something and sliced the ties on the boats to let them loose. The only thing she could now hope for is a swift sinking or death and that as many sailors as possible get to safety. She felt all the sea filling her up, every nook and cranny was being filled and it spread faster and faster. She noticed herself beginning to roll over and when she did the movement inside her came to a tremendous uproar as an explosion occurred, then another, and another. One by one magazines were detonating and they ripped her in half, the explosions left her weak and sick, she felt her two parts drifting further and further away as she stopped flooding and was just suspended with her belly up in the air. She felt so very ashamed, left so vulnerable, so exposed, so embarrassed. She felt that Americans were laughing at her, joking and pointing at her belly and how red it was or all the bulges on it, the feeling made her weep. She could tell how she had been floating for about a full day when suddenly she felt vibrations in the water with more sharp stabs at her sides; she was being shot again. She wept more, there was no way she was not seen now. She was sentenced to the bottom even though as she wept she pleaded to save her, she had done nothing wrong, only good, and to please spare her miserable life. Her pleas were never heard.
Fuso felt the unstoppable surge of the Pacific fill her yet again. What moonlight she saw through the waves like stray streaks soon faded to black as she sunk deeper and the tears clouded her weak vision. As she began to plummet she felt weightless. She felt water flowing all around her and it grew faster and faster, stronger and stronger as she hurtled to the bottom of the strait. She felt things like searchlights, cranes, railing, radars, optics, lockers, ladders, and many other things not fastened enough be ripped off her body and strewn about like confetti. Suddenly the weightlessness was gone as she slowed drastically and and gently came to rest on the bottom of the Surigao Strait. Her first moments on the bottom were of guilt, feelings of desertion, confusion, and agony. She felt like she deserved this, like no matter what she did it was not enough and she deserved this miserable death, this miserable torture. She was in a state of confusion as to where she sat, the sand on her belly was an alien feeling, one unwelcome in every respect, and at a slant starting higher on her port side and disappearing somewhere beneath her starboard side belly. She couldn’t tell initially if she was on a undersea mountain or sitting at a list. Once she eventually regained a sense of gravity pulling on her still she decreed she was listing. It was pitch black, there was nothing down around her but herself. She felt like she was lying in her own corpse, a mangled and dismembered corpse strewn around by a beast who needed entertaining. She began going mad, insane, crazy, any adjective to describe what isolation and absurd thoughts stirred in what little thought she had wasn’t enough to do justice. She tried putting a hand in front of her eye to even try getting a glance at something, anything, at all. She couldn’t see it even when she bumped her hand into the eye window panes. She tried so hard to see even her hand, and she couldn’t. In a fit of insanity she literally clawed out her window eyes-and enjoyed every moment of it. Because of her age she was one of the first ships in the world to see, and her original eyes were on her conning tower right behind the second main gun turret. She eventually did try to claw out those eyes as well but being of an older method they were not able to be clawed out, instead she just had massive trenches and pock marks all up and down that armored face and neck.
When she wasn’t driven to the point of self mutilation she was crying, weeping, pleading, praying, and regretting everything about herself and to be brought back. She tried her dammed hardest to manage a watch and keep some record of time but this was so rapidly turning into a failure she abandoned it, along with hope of returning to the surface. She had no concept of time, no sense of direction, purpose, or meaning to anything. Instead she could only mope in the past and self mutilate herself or feel herself wither away and old everyday functions disappear as she rotted and rusted on the bottom. Forgotten, and lost. Complete insanity hit her like waves the beach, coming and going in time. She never could tell if there was a set time between swings, if it took longer or shorter, or what; she had no sense of time. In fits of madness she would pick and scratch at her armor and decks, peeling away anything loose. All she wanted was to feel something again.
Over the years she forgot what it was to see, forgot what the light looked like, forgot what she looked like, forgot what air was like, the splash of water on her hull, the simple things in life had left her memory. She had no recollection of life before being sunk. Occasionally she would feel disturbances in the water and become suspicious of whats going on around her and would sometimes think that someone had come for her. At one point she remembered life afloat, more specifically when she was in love. He was so romantic, so handsome and attractive. They made great love when they were together. It made her remember all the things they good together and everywhere they went. Her most enjoyable memory was when the earthquake hit the islands, Fuso as well as Kongo, Nagato, Mogami, and many, many other Japanese warships, and ships in general, took relief supplies to the islands. It was her most proud accomplishment. It was made even better when her lover and her made love all night long, but when the memories came to an end she remembered that was the last time they made love and one of the last times they held each other. He died of illness in her sickbay less than a month later. Thus her little trip of happiness came to an end as guilt and despair took over again. She was crying alone in the pitch black again.
Her body was weak, she felt like she was slipping away recently, she lost all her hope and didn’t want to deal with this anymore. All her emotional pain, all her physical pain, she didn’t want to deal with it anymore, it never ended. She was thinking a lot about letting go, just going away for good. She partly wanted to go away and was partly scared, what was there after it? Would it really end? Would it be a better place? Would she really go to heaven? Is she a sinner? Would her friends be there? That last one really broke her down into a bawling mess. What would her friends think? What would her sister say? She wondered how she was doing, if she was alive anymore. She wondered if Yamato finally opened up to her sweetheart, if Nagato finally broke her dry spell and got someone. She hoped that bastard that broke her heart wasn’t where she was going. She decided to postpone her journey, she didn’t know how long she’d wait, but she knew she’d get to it eventually. Once she mustered the strength to do it and let go.
A short time later she felt a disturbance off to her port side, she grew suspicious as always but unlike every other gut feeling this one didn’t go away. Her conning tower eyes were somewhat locked forward with very little ability to look port or starboard so she couldn’t see the light approaching her. She felt a strange feeling on her side that blanketed a conical area of her side. Slowly the light elevated and reached her decks, at first it was a hazy glow on her decks that strained her eyes but captivated them. She was laser focused on the illumination of her deck even though it burned her eyes and gave her the equivalent of a headache. The light grew brighter and brighter, she could see the colors she had forgotten, they were green, tan, black, brown, grey, orange, and white but she couldn’t name any of them, it was amazing! She vastly grew more and more excited to the point her hull quivered! Then it appeared, the raw light source. It sat above her second turret she vaguely remembered and peered down at her conning tower. She couldn’t see herself but she was staring at the light directly with a gawking mouth and drooling like a primitive looking at a modern marvel, eyes dilated and locked onto the light. Desensitized to all proper interaction she reached out to the light and grabbed a hold of the submersible and pulled it close.
Thankfully to the crew of the submersible this was only a drone sub, otherwise they would probably be screaming and panicking as their sub was drastically whisked from where it sat. While Fuso wasn’t being rough with the little thing she also wasn’t being very gentle, either. She was entirely mystified by the simple light and didn’t even put two-and-two together and think that someone came looking for her, but that is exactly what was happening. The drone was towing not only it’s own connection cable but a radio cable to communicate with Fuso, all that was needed was for her to grab the cable with non-corroded metal. The team tried to get her attention by waving the arm and cable around but she was still fixated on the light, they eventually caught on and waved the cable across the light. Her eyes caught on and trained on the black like swinging slowly across the orb. Her mind sparked up a thought and took it in a hand, the end buzzed and numbed her hand and it felt like pulses and communications of a sorts. She noticed the more rust it touched the less she felt it so she took the end and slithered it into her mouth and working it under her tongue. Suddenly she heard voices, voices! She was hearing people talk to her! The camera on the drone watched her face brighten up like a star as joy flooded over her, it was finally all coming together in her mind what was going on. Someone was coming specifically for her! She cried tears of joy as she heard her name on the wire, they were calling for her to respond, trying to pry information out of her.
“Hold on, I need a moment!” She cried, she wiped away tears from the recessions in the armor where her eyes were fixed. “I’m overwhelmed with emotions!”
“Fuso, Fuso is it you? Are you Fuso?”
“Yes! Yes I’m Fuso!” Her first thought was blurted out before they could say anything. “How’s my sister, Yamashiro?”
“Yamashiro?” There was a pause as she heard talking in the background. “Yamashiro is fine, she is visited frequently by divers. A deep dive for the experienced only but it is done.”
“Is she happy?” Again silence as background voices talked, they replied with uncertainty. Fuso asked about Nagato, Yamato, Kongo, and was depressed when she learned they all sank as well, but when she was told that Yamato and Nagato were raised and alive again, doing very well and were happy Fuso was elated with joy. She longed to talk to her friends again and begged if she could, and the Japanese crew on the other end said that she would but she’d have to agree to some conditions. But before she was read the conditions she asked about Kongo, she wasn’t mentioned. There was no pause here.
“We’ve never found Kongo.” Fuso was silent, Kongo was very close to Fuso and Yamashiro, because Kongo didn’t have sisters, just failed attempts at sisters. The fact that Kongo had never been found hurt Fuso as well, she was older and more lively than Fuso, she thought about what was happening to her and couldn’t even fathom how she was doing. It was time she decided on the conditions. She already knew she would probably agree to anything, she had already threatened her own life and gone insane many times over, it was all a matter of how bad she was going to be treated. She was read out this long list of terms and agreements where she kind of blanked out and looked at how miserably rotted she was, it was almost repulsive and was thankful that she couldn’t watch it happen to her. Once the list seemed to be dwindling to an end she paid more attention, once it was all over the speaker summed it up for her. “In summary, Japan is raising you and putting you back into service, you’re going to be upgraded significantly and act as a testing ground for future systems. Once you’re retired you’ll be put into a shipyard and converted into a museum for your service and live off of donations, being a museum, and maybe a few other means. Do you accept?” She was amazed, shocked, she couldn’t comprehend everything that she was feeling. She accepted as soon as she could croak a yes past her crying and the lump in her throat.
Redemption!
Reunion!
Work began on her to raise her once again, her stern section did drift away from the break up and sank in shallower waters, it was easier to find and salvage but worse off corrosion and stability wise. Her bow section was eventually raised and as the moonlight came back into her vision she openly weeped in front of everyone, on her radio, thanking and blessing everyone who had helped her in any way. The first thing Nagato and Yamato heard of her on the radio was her pathetic whimpering and bawling, she didn’t even notice or care that they could hear her; Fuso kept bawling her eyes out over how beautiful the moon was and the glistening lights of the shore and ships all around her. Neither Nagato or Yamato suffered the same problems she did, Nagato could feel things around her and had many times talked to people and Yamato died, wasn’t alive for any of her time on the bottom. Fuso was completely isolated in a depth so dark that she was wholly blind and numb to anything around her. Workers noticed how mutilated she was, deep claw engravings and pock marks littered her hull and superstructure, and a lot of them were so deep they had to be filled so she could be floated again, she punctured her own hull in desperation to feel anything. She couldn’t get herself together for the night nor the morning, it was the following afternoon she stopped mindlessly enjoying her surroundings and realized she’d been on a radio with Yamato and Nagato, and that only brought more uncontrollable joy. She was able to at least communicate with them, the three were all excited to be talking to each other again. “Oh tell me everything! Everything I missed! I want to know it all!”
Yamato read from Hisashi”s book all the notes he took about life after Yamato’s sinking, every now and then Hisashi or Yamato or Nagato or Tyler would interrupt and elaborate on something of interest. They told stories of adventures and fun times but none of them mentioned Kongo. Fuso had to know what happened to her, when she asked Nagato piped up. She was very hesitant and unwilling, she said that Nagato was with Kongo when she was struck. She was struck with torpedoes meant for Nagato and she fell out of formation, they tried keeping radio contact with her but the last thing they heard was a call by the fleet commander announcing out an abandon ship. Then it was all silent as later survivors said she blew into two parts and sank rapidly. Nagato was in a painful memory. To bring up a lighter note it was Yamato and Nagato that pressured Japanese officials to investigate Fuso and Yamashiro for being raised. Fuso inquired more about Yamashiro and she was told that Yamashiro liked being down on the bottom, she enjoyed being a reef and attraction, so much marine life lived off of her she couldn’t see herself leaving. Fuso said that she’ll be able to get her up and out. Fuso was asked about being on the bottom and she almost broke down crying for not so good reasons. Fuso said it was torture beyond all belief, misery for no one to endure, and she admitted to almost killing herself to escape that hell. She did mention how at first she believed she deserved it but eventually she came to realize no one deserved that. Nothing did. Somehow that reminded her about her crew and asked how many were saved. Ten was her received answer.
She was silent again, she failed again. Guilt swept over her again, as she mentally slapped herself for her failure to let go the boats. Yamato and Nagato sensed their friend in trouble and moved to tell her it wasn’t her fault, how hundreds survived the sinking but refused help, how many were cut down on the beaches by the natives and that they chose to die honorably. That made her feel somewhat less at fault but she was now angered at the waste of life she was, not her life but the waste of life her sinking was, pointless death and something that could have been prevented had her crew swallowed their pride and accepted her plea to find safety. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel so fucking terrible.

 

So this is a tease of what’s to come soon. Well I’ve been jumping around with what I’ve been writing but I decided on this. I won’t be finishing this on a separate thread I’ll just be updating this one like what Ratbat does, I hope I don’t take too long to finish it up so I don’t keep yall waiting long and you’d get some stuff to look forward to more often. I’m debating whether or not to do this with other story entries or if this will just lead to you guys seeing how many stories I start and never get to finishing. (It’s a lot btw) This is kinda like how Ratbat will post the various forms of a page up, like the outlines then dialogue then fill it all in. I guess it honestly makes more sense in picture storytelling than writing but I’ll have a go. If you’d rather see the whole entry at once let me know and I’ll go back to that.

Filed under Gingyflame, Stories · Tagged with , , ,

HaM 52 (FINALLY)

IT’S FINALLY DONE! I finally sat down and just forced it out. It flowed a little easier once I stopped trying for nitty-gritty details and just focused more on the emotional side. Easier, not easy. I hope I got the emotional strengths across while still emphasizing how hard they fucked, but it does seem a little short. Nevertheless, I’m sure that more inserts of HaM will come more often with more content as well as more side stories. I have a few in the works but maybe I’ll update some of the others like Titanic, Bismarck, Nagato, Yamato (well actually she’s kinda locked out right now), or a few others. Regardless please enjoy this long overdue insert of Hansel and Marion.

HaM 52

Their kissing and grabbing intensified as they moved towards the bedroom, suppressed feelings and emotions finally being released drove them into a frenzy, they started tugging and pulling on clothes trying to undress. The quiet house had very quickly come to life in a matter of moments and words. As soon as some article of clothing was off of Hansel it left her grasp, whether it fell or she flung it away it was gone. The taste of Hansel was all she tasted now, nothing else, just his hot fucking flesh! Oh everything about him was turning her on, his muscles, his hair, his eyes! Oh and his height, his hands, his tongue, and his mouth! Oh yes what wonders his mouth does to her, it’s so seductive!  Her body shook and quivered with anticipation of his doings, his naughty pleasures, and it could barely keep moving towards the bedroom when she thought of his cock, his massive cock! How deeply he pricked and toyed her, the length, girth, and height made her drool start drooling, oh she knew she was leaving a mess in her wake but she didn’t care, she was gonna get dick’d down tonight!

Marion’s arms enveloped Hansel and stroked and rubbed and held him all over, her body was warmer than usual and her body was slicker than before. Her tendrils combing through his hair and her arms around him excited him and her intensity ramped up his drive. Her seductive strokes of his body and sex promoted he do the same where he could and her suggestive actions stirred his mind with dirty ideas. All the things she did to him made him ache and long for it physically, her hands on his cock moving up and down his length made his balls sore but she’d always sooth them with a massage, her obsession with his testes is always welcome and relaxing. But when she sucks on his cock his spine shivers and slackens, whenever he watches her work him over with those luscious and beautiful lips he wants more and the gleaming razor teeth excite his adrenaline and made him hyper aware. Her pussy is the cream of the crop, though, her vagina is magical, it does everything her other tools do, but better! It’s bleeding warmth, it’s plush and holding walls, it’s slick and tasty juice, it’s gentle suction, and to top it off it’s addicting to eat! The most addicting thing Hansel’s ever dealt with, he swears that there’s drugs embedded into her glands, he’s told her multiple times. It’s so good, so magical, that when they have sex all Hansel’s problems are gone, whether it be a cold, stress, worry, anxiety, anger, it was all gone because of sex. They’re left giddy, carefree, and very passionate. He couldn’t wait to be passionately carefree with her vagina. Once they got into their bedroom Hansel’s turn-ons were amplified, her engine purr reverberated inside his chest and her very skin’s touch electrified him. The smell of fuel and the ambient taste of gunpowder stimulated him. Her eyes, her spectacular eyes captivated his gaze and made him want to please them. Her mouth was attractive and captivating, but by far her best feature to look at was her body as a whole, her shapely figure of various angles mixed with a variety of curves just dumbfounded Hansel. And as the temperature rose in the room the extra items came off. Her quick strip left Hansel in a frenzy, not only did the skirts come off revealing that sexy sharp cut for the treads but her extra treads on her cheeks came off, revealing her very blushed cheeks. Hansel’s hands instantly gravitated there holding himself to her while they smooched and sweated. Next he heard pins come out, and she slid her actual treads off and slung them into a corner. Everything was coming off. Hansel has never seen her so bare and nude as the grate covers for her intakes popped out, her towing cables, toolboxes, axes, shovels, jacks, clamps, and even the towing eyes were tossed away. Hansel felt he couldn’t get hard enough no matter how much he flexed his cock full.

There was a break in the kissing where Marion asked in an excited tone “Are we doing it? All the way?” She looked all over his face but would lock at his eyes for a moment.

“Yes, yes we’re doing it!” He looked all over her face and body, she had an absolutely gigantic smile and her eyes gleamed with joy. Her strokes on his cock hastened as she was getting ready to slide him under her. “No, no, I want to see you for it.” She nodded and opened the assistant driver’s hatch. Hansel climbed in and found her vaginal tendril she snaked up over the back of the seat. He looked into it, it seemed more swollen and throbbing with a puddle of her lube forming at the vulva slit and running down the tendril. He put one kiss on it and felt the reverberations all around him and placed his cock head right at the part and stroked up and down, really getting her to vibrate and shake like an engine. His head quickly was covered in her slick love and his knees trembled with the amazing feeling of rubbing their genitals together. Once it had gotten where he could barely stand and she was gushing out fluids with every pass he backed off and they locked eye contact. They nodded to each other and agreed to do it under their breaths.

Hansel pushes in up to his crotch, Marion flinched and her gaze darted off behind Hansel as she suddenly felt all his length, girth, and heat. His cock was massive, it pushed her insides around and made her feel amazing. All his teasing and stroking had made her suspension tremble and her engine sputter, her gun coil back and her body shudder. She felt the alcohol in their system buzz them and excite them, and their heightened senses and hyperactive hormones elevated all senses of pleasure. He was looking at her questioningly and she looked back at him, panting heavily.

“Marion, baby, do you want this?” She was extremely excited, her hormones and desires and mind was haywire, she couldn’t think straight. She nodded and rapidly agreed yes she wanted it. Therefore she sunk her cervix around his cock, breaking it through and they let the massive amount or dopamine swamp them into a heavenly world of ecstasy. They braced on each other and shook, they recoiled from their actions and enveloped each other with their love and lust. The most powerful connection they’ve ever had gripped them and kept their lust strong and their hearts passionate. Her eyes sparkled through her squinting eyelids with a beauty Hansel admired like it was godly. And his glistening body lured her to adore him religiously. Neither of them could recall ever feeling so strongly about the other, all of their previous spikes of love, compassion, camaraderie, and desire all formed together in this moment here. It seemed like forever they were making love, truly making love, and neither wanted to stop. Continuous bouts of encouragement and praise spurred each other on, and their own pounding wants pushed them to ensure their partner was in as much pleasure as possible. Hansel groped her clit or a feeding tendril while Marion fondled his balls or combed through his thick golden hair. All the while they’d move in for a long kiss, heavy breaths heating the whole house by now, and their genitals starting to sore. Grey veins were popping, fuel tanks drying, muscles throbbing, engines cranking, skin drying and grease steaming. Both were sweating profusely, Hansel never knew that she could even sweat, while Marion gawked at how much she had physically changed him, his skin was entirely a flushed grey-red with all this frenzy. She watched his face start to shrivel up and clench as he came closer to it, her heart raced and her ‘legs’ trembled in anticipation. His thrust slowed and became more forced when suddenly he slammed his body against the tendril and it happened. She gripped his hair and wrapped all over him, staring into his magnificent eyes as she felt these monstrously huge shots penetrate deep into her. They felt so deep inside her that her core itself felt the stick of his seed. One shot, two shots, three, four, a fifth, each shot also showed on his face as he stared back at her. He watched as her expression was of sexual pleasure and exertion to bewildered enlightenment, pure joy. He gave it his all and pushed even deeper for the last shot to go, he forced with all his remaining strength and sent it even deeper. To Marion she thought he was as deep as he could go, but she was wrong. The last shot blew out her core and replaced it, her core didn’t feel like her anymore, she felt him. She quivered and shook and giggled with elation, this was by far the best moment she’s had with Hansel. The whole world was just them. Hansel sort of slumped over, being held up by weak arms, and was regaining strength for her turn. She had planned this as the end, thought that the argument was over, and was letting him relax. Hansel wasn’t done with her, she wasn’t done in his eyes. He was regaining strength so she wouldn’t miss this opportunity to come, too. Slowly his thumb began circling the raw bulbous metal-flesh that was her clit. “Hansel, we’re done. Rest now.”

“No,” he said with a sigh, “you didn’t finish.”

“Hansel please!” Her expression turned to worry. He knew why she was worried, but thought it was a silly reason. Her only argument why she shouldn’t cum.

“No, you give this to me, you make me the man I want to be for you. You let me do this.” He slowly eased out to his head while pinning her tendril down.

“Hansel it’s in!”

“I’ll keep it there.” He pushed back in, this time angling himself for the spot. He hit a different textured spot of flesh that made her whimper and bite her lip. She looked worried, pleading, and scared, but Hansel was going to show her how silly she was. Show her what kind of man a woman like her deserves.

“No Hansel, please don’t, I’m scared-mmmpff!” He kidded her gun as he struck her spot again. He  pushed in and out as fast as he could. His body started to hurt but he ignored it, her whimpers gave away how much she was enjoying it even if she tried to make it sound painful. Her g-spot getting the good dick mixed with the fact it felt like her innards were nothing but Hansel jizz made her really struggle to stay up or hold back from orgasm. He kept getting faster and her whimpers and engine got louder, her eyes darted to and fro, her turret jostling on the bearings and the gun spasming out. Hansel’s body was screaming with pain, his knees had been shaking and buckled long ago, only holding himself up with his arms and her jittery arms. Her body just locked up after a while, no movements at all. He kept going, ignoring the pain and hammering that g-spot. His vision was starting to fade when suddenly her eyes rolled back and her entire entity shook and thrashed about. She came and sprayed herself like a fire hydrant. She came and sprayed for two minutes easy. Piercing moans and whimpers shook the home and probably bled into the night sky. She sprayed so much it drenched Hansel head to toe, splashed all over her cabin, soaked the seats, soaked his hair, splashed up his body, off his chest, into her huge gaping mouth And onto her gun and face and deck. The whole time still thrashing like she was possessed by demons. Everything stopped and calmed when Hansel felt a sudden drop coupled with a huge crashing and grinding noise. Amidst the unhealthy sounding engine noises was her muffled whimpering, deep hot heavy breathing, extreme vent action on her stern, and cooling engine noises-absolutely everywhere, and some ringing in Hansel’s ear. He collapsed with her and slumped on her deck in a pool of their drool and her lovely tasting cum. She blinked very slowly and suddenly her eyes were back, staring down into his.

“I love you.”

That’s all they said for the longest time. They ensued in holding hands and rubbing their thumbs over each other’s lovingly. Then they broke silence again.

“Is it still there? Marion?” She took a deep breath.

“Yes, baby. It’s still in there. All of it.”

“I told you it was silly.”

“I guess it was. I was just really scared I’d cum it all out, baby.”

“We’ve had sex dozens of times and it never came out, honey. Why would this be different?”

“I guess you were right, Hansel, baby.”

“You were just being silly, honey.”

“This is the first time we’ve had sex in what? Five years? It was amazing, better than ever. You really are the man.” They closed their eyes to sleep in this hot mess they made. Right before they passed out Hansel grabbed her chin and drug his head close to her body, so close his nose was buried under the turret and he whispered to her:

“You are the most beautiful thing in the whole wide world.”

Marion was finally pregnant.

Fin 52

Filed under Gingyflame, Stories · Tagged with , , , ,

Distressed IV

Distressed IV
Jonny stood there gawking at her with his hand on his dick. He had read into the genitalia but he had never been able to imagine what it looked like, and now he didn’t have to try. Her bow was low and her ass was up, she was gently swaying it left and right seductively, the whole time his gaze was locked on the glistening silver vulva that was between her transmission bulges. Her turret was over the side and she was seductively gazing at him and licking lips. After a moment of locking eyes a hand beckoned him forward to her. He stuttered for a moment before he turned to her and moved forward. She nodded in approval and smiled at him with a wide, human like grin. “That’s right soldier boy, come get sum!”
He grinned back and as he got closer they got more and more excited, their bodies warmed up to the idea and started putting in the effort to get it on. Jonny got up close to and against her side and grabbed at her side plates, she grabbed his shirt and pants and they both giggled in a naughty fashion and they began stripping each other. She began with him and they slowly took off each piece of clothing to dramatize the moment. First his hat, then his shirt, and his shoes, and his socks, and his belt, and his pants, and finally his underwear. Once the underwear gave away and let go of his cock it shot up and bounced around taunting her as she stared at it. Watching a slob of drool slowly roll out of her mouth made Johnny feel like a man! “Now,” she said lapping up her drool and imaginary cock, “now undress me, mister.”
At first he didn’t know what to do, but her mud covers and spaced armor looked separated more than normal, and with a tug of what he wanted off it was off, she popped it off, and tossed it aside. Looking back to him from her tasks to see his excitement grow and grow. One by one, the various pieces came off. She counted down the parts taunting him, exaggerating numbers and pausing with the armor dangling from her hand like it was lingerie.
“Twelve..,”
“Eleven..,”
“Ten!”
“Nine!
“Ei-ght..,”
“Sev-ven..,”
“.., Six..,” They had one side’s extra pieces off, the exposed treads and return rollers, and and the torsion bars, and the angled portion of her lower hull, it all made Johnny feel like a breeding bull, he had to pump her full! He moved more towards her port but she stopped him with a finger on his chin. “Ah, ah, ah! There’s still my left side, big man!” He lurched over and pulled on two at once, trying to rip them off with his bare hands. He was not strong enough to do it, but his intensity fueled Tankovy’s passion, she really REALLY wanted him, she wanted him deep and her vagina was telling her exactly how she wanted it.
“Five and four.., a little excited now?”
“Threeee..,”
“Twwoo.., ..,”
“ONE!” The last piece she flung into the air without a second thought, she felt hot, and she was hot! She felt sexy, loved, the way he was rubbing his body against hers made her feel desired, attractive, horny… Johnny finally slid across her body down to her ass end, her extra fuel tanks had been jettisoned so she could see him but she had moved a Jerry can in the way of her prize, her underwear for him to rip off. And that he did.
“Ah-h-ah! OoooooOOOOOhhh…, I LOVED that, John! Give it to me, baby!!” He had ripped it off like a band aid, pulling out her clit and foreskin from the vulva to display it to him, his cock throbbed so much he had to stroke it, but she didn’t let him. She wrapped a tendril around the base and a hand around his mighty meat. Every throb and every pulse made her squirt a tiny bit, she so desperately longed for what was deep inside his cock and his two delicious testicles she so passionately fondled.
As he gazed down upon her loving and working his aching cock and balls with hands he looked at the thing he wanted from her, that mystical pussy she was swaying for him. Oh it looked like it had gotten shinier and more plump, but it didn’t look wet enough. He reached down and stroked it, probed it, poked and teased it. Sifting the clit like one sprinkles salt from their fingers, her mighty engine roared and she nearly fell back onto him as he did this to her. Her gorgeous eyes rolled straight up and she gritted her teeth and grunted and moaned as he touched her. She started passionately humping his hand and could only think about how fucked she was going to be.(It was very, VERY fucked!)
His hand toyed with her vulva and clit long enough to where she oozed her juice, and once she was hot and wet he finally removed his hand for her slit. It was covered in a coat of juice and thick strands clung to his hand as it drifted away. Tankovy took in deep breaths, she wasn’t sure how much more teasing she could take. She was cranking her turret around to her stern end when Jonny’s curiosity got the best of him and the teasing continued. He ducked down into her slit and lapped at her edges, feeling with his tongue and lips just how soft, and plush, and hot she really was. The mix of his lips and tongue and his scraggly beard came together and stimulated her pussy like never before, making it hard for her to keep turning up the incline she was doing for him. Once he committed to going the full length and really eating her he pressed his mouth against her puss and drove his tongue deep into her parting, welcoming folds. She moaned loud enough to match her engine’s mighty roar as her turret lost all grip and the gun drug her facing forward again. There she moaned and whined and shivered in excitement and ecstasy. Her engine purred and stuttered and roared with her. She had grabbed the back of his head and hair in a half-fist and half-clamp and kept his face pressured against her dripping wonderment. Jonny breathed in through his nose, smelling her raw body and how appealing her sex really was, it wasn’t human body funk he and the other guys got on deployment, wasn’t lovely perfume or soap that women used, it was her and nothing else, and the smell of her steel, juice, some exhaust, and his saliva really churned up his horniness. Her taste was even better, that iron-blood taste that coins and his tags had danced and swept across his tongue, her juice stuck just right to be enjoyable yet was slick enough to be usable-he really like his odds of enjoying her sex. She felt herself rising to the occasion but no, she needed to be fucked, not eaten, or toyed, or masturbated to her orgasm. She was gonna get it from his dick. She ripped him out and breathing very heavily she demanded he fuck her right and proper.
“Oh I will, I will. But-“ he wiped the juice from his lips and beard.
“But what!?”
“But you’ve gotta put these tanks back on.” He tugged at the mounts for her external fuel tanks right on her ass. She took them off to see him, but she couldn’t get her gun up the incline so it didn’t matter anymore.
“Why?”
“I liked the way they shook.”
“Alright then,” she hastily threw them back onto her mounts and strapped them in, “but you better shake them off soldier!”
Count on it!” He grabbed his shaft and quickly got into place, he grabbed onto her engine deck with his left hand and stroked his cock up and down against her split vulva and exposed pussy when she begged for no more teasing. “It wasn’t a tease.”
He rocketed into her, the sudden penetration seized up her engine and made her lock up and groan almost painfully. She instantly rolled her eyes back and grabbed onto his ass and hips, holding him inside her while the shock wore off. Soon enough she had recovered and Jonny was doing his thing. He drew slowly and drove quickly, this made Tankovy rock forward and lean back, shaking those magical fuel tanks. She was speaking in fast Russian praising what Jonny was doing to her. But it was too good for Jonny, he hadn’t used himself like this in a long time and just as the saying goes, he didn’t use it so he lost it. All of a sudden it hit him like a sledgehammer and he jolted his hips up against her hull and shot his thick, full, heavy load deep into her pussy. He groaned and moaned in pleasure as the biggest orgasm he’d ever had rocked his body and made him weak, he felt his cock pump, then pump again, and again, another time, then he flexed some more, again, and he did this until he was soft. He was so embarrassed, he lasted what? A minute? If that. He felt so extremely embarrassed. He had talked up all that game and he dropped the ball. “Fuck! I let you down, didn’t I?” Tankovy giggled.
“Get up here, John, I can fix this.” He marched up with his heads slumped in their defeat. She wrapped around his body and whisked him into then air, quickly his mind thought he was gonna die but she slung him into the drivers cupola where she could lick and suck on him. Here he noticed how small of a mouth she had compared to her body, her mouth was no bigger than his own mouth. She lapped on his cock and balls, licking from the bottom of the sack up to the tip of his head. While he was still soft her work ground his gears and he was quite weak with his body’s reactions, she was in total control of him then. Once his meat was licked clean of her pussy’s juice and his semen and had swollen enough to be a chub she put him into her mouth and sucked on him. He slumped over her turret and hugged her gun by his side, drooling onto her armor. She, too, was enjoying this, her eyes were closed and she was just using all her mind to focus on her mouth. More specifically his outlandish fleshy taste, the feel of his throb, the growing size take up more and more room. Once he was fully grown he started really leaking jizz, she sucked him like a straw and the cum in her ass and the cum on her tongue made her vibrate with ecstasy, that alone made her come to the brink of orgasming. She lapped and sucked and manipulated his cock for maybe ten minutes when he finally busted in her mouth. She gleefully sloshed it all over her mouth, getting his seed everywhere to tickle her fancy. He pulled out still rock hard and ready for more.
“You’re magical, Tankovy!” She licked her lips and met his gaze, they sat breathing heavily for a moment before she piped up.
“Get back there, already!” He hopped out and jogged back to her oozing pussy. His cum was dripping out in glops from the creampie they’d made, he sort of admired his work and felt a little pride in what he had done to her. “What? Too messy for you?
“Me? Fuuuck no!” He shoved it into her again, just like the first time and they both huddled against each other from the shock, and once the initial shock was over they proceeded just like the first time. Only this time it felt much MUCH better for both of them, his cock ground his previous visit’s gift deeper into her vagina and made her feel even more enjoyment from this while he could relax and feel her twitching around him, feel her vagina’s skin and metallic flesh grip him and rub him right, she was tighter and wetter, his cum acted as more lube and occasionally her whole body and pussy would vibrate and he’d sit inside her just mesmerized by how awesome that was. He would pick up the speed and listed to her romantic Russian language fly from her mouth and watch her fuel tanks bounce up and down, back and forth, the best ass he’s seen. He watched himself slide in and out, in and out, in and out, and it was awesome. He just kept going! On and on! Tankovy was getting closer and closer and closer to her limit, she had been holding it off for a long time but she really wanted to get rocked by this orgasm. She wanted a crippling fuck out of him, one where she’d be feeling this for the rest of the week. So far she’s been getting exactly that and then some. But she expected to be sore after the sex, but her body had begun aching during the sex, this made her worry if she could last as long as him. She didn’t have much to worry about as Jonny soon announced he was close to cumming again. She felt his huge throbbing cock, dashing in and out of her, shiver and quake as his thrusts slowed and his draws pained. Suddenly he was completely against her armor and huge loads were shot even deeper than before into her.
“YES! YES! YES! YES!” She cried out. “MORE CUM! DEEPER BABY DEEPER!” Her arms wrapped around him and held him to her body as she was filled with him. He pumped less than his first visit into her but it went deeper and made her even more squirmish and pleasuring. Her pussy throbbed around his man meat and gave him quite the encouragement to stay but he had to go. He backed out almost stumbling and falling on his ass but he caught himself on her fuel tank. “Oh Jonny! I want to taste myself, Jonny!” She beckoned him up to her bow again and he soldiered on dog-tired though he was.
Goddamn, how much more you want, woman? Jesus Christ!” He stumbled up to her where she sheepishly pulled him in. He went in for a kiss but an arm held him back.
“Whoa, are you going to make me swallow it?” He was puzzled, swallow what?
“Wait, you didn’t swallow?”
“No,” she said blushing, she was a little embarassed by her little fetish, “I like it in my mouth.” He smiled and giggled a bit and stood up some.
“Ah, I won’t make you swallow!” He bent his aching and cramping back over to plant a smooch right over her gun mantle. He placed his slumped and soggy meat in her face and she gleefully slurped it up into her mouth, tenderizing it and cleaning it off with her mouth. She knew how beat he was, she wrapped him up in her arms and stretched him on her turret face, relaxing his muscles and soothing his cramps, just how she knew he liked it. His taste was exhilarating and addicting. His cock had a coating of his cum mixed, almost diluted, with her slick machine lube and right at the top was the strongest and most potent part of his cum, it was like a twinkle she’d later compare it to, but right now it was like nothing she had ever had and just like Twinkies, was a real treat she wanted more of. She a had huge and unwavering smile born from his delicious cock that pinched and held him better than her own pussy, he enjoyed this a little more because he was getting massaged everywhere, he was resting, he was relaxed, and he had a beautiful woman to pleasure his sex drive without even complaining. He bet that she was enjoying it more than him, and for once the man was right. She never wanted that night to end.
Once his coatings of cum had been slobbered off they separated and laid down for the night to rest. Jonny curled up under a very nice and complete blanket that Tankovy had been keeping around and he had a nice makeshift pillow bridging the driver’s chair and the cupola rim for him to sleep on. Tankovy’s dirty dream to be sore the next few mornings was well secured, she was already sore and really felt his presence as she painfully laid down on her belly. She tossed the tarp used to hide her stolen goods over her gun barrel and roof for a shade in the upcoming morning, though light did burn through neither were woken by it. It was this moment where Jonny knew she was most attached to him he proposed instead of returning to Russia where she knew no lovers to go with him back to America, where she would have him. Deep down she craved to go back to Russia, but her heart and body begged and throbbed to go wherever he goes. Her mind was made to go but just in case something did come up she told him “Possibly, big American soldier,” and let them sleep huddled together under the bright moon-lit night.
When she did wake up she had a mini-orgasm when his taste and tingle was still in her mouth.

Fin Distressed IV

Yay! I finally bullied myself into putting out porn again! Yay! My absolute next goal is to put out the next chapter for HaM, the expected after-party sex scene of hot proportions. But to be frank my desire is to skip over that part and move on with their lives and not write a sex scene because it kinda feels repetitive, *insert painfully bad acting of a thumbs up and forced smile here* yay! But no I’m doing alright, really, but I’ve had a taste of not writing porn and instead writing lore and story and cool stuff and I like that, and I have a whole new schedule that kinda sucks for free time so, only time will tell. And my self motivation to get my lazy ass up and do shit.

 

But hey! What’s a machine you wouldn’t mind doing the sex with but would rather just be swamped by emotion just being able to see up close? For me it’s the T-55. Hands down. Yeah the Tiger II or Maus may be my favorites but I really do have a soft spot for T-55s and this story for me kind of relates to that. T-72s are not T-55s, but hey, meh. I don’t know when I’ll do something with a T-55, or if I even will at all. Just has a lot of memories for me, and is probably one of the first weird mental imaginary friends that little kids come up with. (Like seriously if Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends was a real thing my friend would be the motha fuckin boss of that shit).When I think back I got my interest with those cold war era Russian tanks from a game called Desert Storm: Iraqi Freedom and Desert Storm: Desert Shield, two games that a kid probably shouldn’t have been playing at that age but hey, I turned out kinda okay? Oh gawd why am I talkin’ ’bout this shit? It’s fucking late, I’m tired. IF I do post this shit I might delete this section I have no clue. IDK, maybe I’ve been too reclusive since I’ve been here, for what? Four years? Three? Fuck. Maybe I’ve been too reclusive and this is like “hey I’m a hooman being, too” or it’s just way outta context and it’s like “dude I’m here for your fap shit, not your deep thought tired-ass having-ass bullshit”. I swear I’m not high. Promise.

Fuck it where’s the post button?

Filed under Gingyflame, Stories · Tagged with , , ,

Distressed III

Distress III
Jonny and the T-72 had become partners quickly, finally having someone to confide in and having nothing else to pass the time they communicated, at first it was details about what diversion they wanted, then it just turned into conversation. Jonny quickly realized that she was a tank, and asked her many questions about things he was curious about. It took a day or so to make a splint for Jonny’s legs and once that was done really they had no objectives to accomplish, they just talked. They told stories of home, of service, and of jokes. Being in military service they had a common dark humor, very dark and twisted humor. They bitched about faulty new gear, rambled on about how nothing in the military really makes sense, and gripe about any other thing a lower enlisted can possibly gripe about. 72 had warmed up to her new comrade and asked to be given hot food again from the terrorists, as they thought the canned food they were giving her she was eating whole, and when it was received she passed it to Jonny, and he admitted that Achmed was right, the Qaeda did have pretty good food. It was after a month of recovery when 72 explained her origin story to him, how she got there.
“I was once a proud Soviet tank, once I was the most formidable beast on the field in the Red Army, but, like all technology, I was replaced. Eventually the crumbling Union decided to start selling Soviet military grade weaponry to our allies and I’ll admit, I was a little scared then. I wasn’t sold then, instead I was sold by Russia, after the American invasion of Iraq, to the Afghanistan army. The level of respect I was given plummeted to a mere awkwardness, but improved over time. One night, one night the base was raided and I was stolen and brought here. At first I was a willing ally to the Al-Qaeda until I noticed that I was treated even worse here, and the things I was made to do was horrible, inexcusable, and overall repulsive.” She mentioned how in the Quran forbids masturbation, but doesn’t mention anything about animal sex, and then she stated how she had sexual advances on her but when she refused them she started a lot of problems and this led to a fallout between her and her ‘allies’ which eventually led to her being raped twice, an untimely and mysterious death of a high ranking terrorist, and that this led to her being thrown into this pit and do nothing but stare out at a mountain. The rape triggered her mission to get out; she had already dealt blows and accomplished many goals before she fetched Jonny, ans they had many more to achieve. That story made Jonny respect her a little more and wish to help her more, but at the same time she’s still an enemy. And as he explained how he felt to her, he recited a good quote he picked up from his favorite game ever.
“The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”
“What’s that mean, John?” She thought Jonny was his whole name so she nicknamed his nickname.
“It means that you and I aren’t on good terms, but we both hate the terrorists more.”
“So we work together like in the Great Patriotic War?”
“Exactly.”
“I would consider you a friend, one of my closest friends, John.”
“Why’s that?”
“You listen more than anyone has before, we’re funny, mostly I enjoy your company.You appreciate my probably terrible English and deal with it.”
“For being taught during the cold war, and only now using it, it’s pretty good, tankovy.”
“Thank you John, that’s a little uplifting.” Time elapsed as they sat there, doing almost nothing, the boredom was unbearable that day and Jonny asked if he could look out the periscope. She allowed him, and he struggled to contort and move his body to the scope, she helped move his stiff legs. She would relax and move his muscles regularly to keep them healthy and prevent from locking up but even still the lack of use was apparent as he pained to move. But it was all worth it. He spun his little world around, taking in the sunlight, the colors, the ever-familiar smell of shit that is the Middle East-neither knew quite why it ALWAYS smelled like shit-and all the intelligence. So many hidden bombs and weaponry disguised to hide from peering drone eyes! He was breath taken and astonished with how much the goat-fuckers had! Tankovy assured him it wouldn’t be around that long with their plan, but he was still shook, maybe the war wasn’t going to end anytime soon. Well, the last part was known, just that America was trying to ‘leave’ the conflict. While he was looking around he tried to see what tank she was, she said she was a tank, but not the model. He couldn’t get a fix on exactly what she was, but based on her height she’s post T-55.He really wanted to know what she was it was driving him nuts! He could have asked but he refused to let his only mind game end so soon. After all, it was going to be months before he could see much else.
And months it was, about five and a half months elapsed before they broke off the casts and splints. They seriously started planning the attack, she began stirring again, a trend she introduced long ago so nobody would think differently when she’d randomly get up and drive around. Jonny would watch and note the locations of key assets, this affected their plans but they were determined to make this all happen. As the date grew closer Jonny would curl up into a ball to work and stretch his muscles, he’d curl for ten minutes and rest for five, again and again until he could do it effortlessly again. Tankovy had noted that without much to groom himself Jonny’s beard had grown long and full, his hair was a mess and his face dirty. He would blend in well with the right clothes, so she got to fabricating him some garments and robes and a turban for him to wear. It would at least help him blend in more than a destroyed American uniform. She had also began making her own little bombs to use against the Taliban, she had played around with timers and had perfected a time fuse for an hour. It worked every time she tested it, the timer not the bombs. As the sun set on the game day they prepared mentally for the challenge. As the time ticked away until about 2340 local time they reviewed and reviewed and reviewed, practiced and practiced and practiced. There was only one thing left to the wind and that was his strength. They worried that he wouldn’t be able to walk on his weak legs. “You ready John?”
“Show time, I’m ready.” He gathered the bombs and put them in his string bag with the timers set, he really hoped he could trust Tankovy to set them right. She double checked her set ups nearly every day.On her cue he opened the hatch and took a deep breath, and climbed out of the hatch. His body ached, creaked, groaned and stretched. He sat on her hull and readied himself for impact, he jumped off and his legs instantly buckled. He came crashing to the ground in pain and misery, grunting and seething, Tankovy yelped worried and scared. She went to get him and call it off when he struggled up, forcing himself up like a drunk. He staggered to his feet and endured the pain of his shaking legs as he stood there, just happy to be there. He carried on, putting forth his effort to get to his first marker.
First he stopped by a cave entrance covered by a plywood sheet with sand and rocks glued to the wood and that was further camouflaged by brush in front of that. He placed a bomb under the sheet of wood next to a pile of rocks that supported the side. He then shrugged on, hobbling down the way to the I.E.D. pile and put two there, just in case one faulted. Next he moved over to the other side and put one by a few sandbags, that spot had problems with mudslides and they were hoping to trigger one with the bomb. Next was some more explosive equipment set out for quick use, most was tucked away in the caves and she wasn’t going to risk her biggest asset that much. Regardless he went over to the entrance of the cave that they used for ammo and tossed one into the black void, hoping it would reach. That bomb was for the livestock but he untied the gate and their leads. He wasn’t that cruel. Lastly was thier fuel depot, it was a bunch of Jerry cans, oil barrels, and one old septic tank. Even still it was a lot of gas. Tankovy had already grabbed her fuels and clustered all the fuel together for the bomb. He tucked one under a Jerry can and stood up, turned around, and saw a figure off on the other side of the valley. The rest of his body started to quiver. He had no guns, no more bombs, and knew almost no Arabic, hide, stupid!
He panicked and looked around, he wanted to hide under the fuel but how would he get in there? He looked around and thought, cave? He might be going there. Animals? What if he’s going for some goat milk? FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCKITY FUCK! He decided on something but it was too late, he was seen and the figure was approaching. He shook and came up with a ploy, a folly, to try to get the upper hand in a fight. As the figure approached Jonny acted ill and sickly, which he was so it was a rather easy act, and once the man was close enough he acted as if he was falling. The man-who was asking if he was alright-dropped his gun and went to catch Jonny. Jonny raised his fist and threw himself into the man. He landed a punch right in the man’s eye and fell into him, catching himself while the man momentarily held him. Jonny then lashed his head up into the man’s jaw. He gained his footing and stood against the arab. Now the arab was angry and was realizing that this wasn’t an ally, he reeled back and instantly charged in. Jonny’s training kicked in and he stood to throw him down, the terrorist fell right into the setup and almost effortlessly Jonny wrapped him up and twisted him onto his back, straddled him, and chocked him while punching into his temple. The terrorist used a free arm to swipe at Jonny’s arm, dropping Jonny onto him, Jonny came up and tried to choke him again but his hand slipped up and he had his hand over his mouth. The terrorist played dirty, trying to preserve his life, and bit at Jonny’s hand. Jonny growled in anger and pain and kneed the jaw again, this time catching the tongue and severing it. The terrorist screamed and covered his mouth, still screaming and thrashing about. Jonny lunged off, grabbed the gun, and smashed in the terrorist’s head with the butt over and over until he was dead and then some. He stood over the terrorist almost hyperventilating, and looked upon his work. The terrorist’s tongue had indeed been severed as it hung out of what was left of a skull, the eyes popped out and the brains glistened in the moonlight and darkened the blue-lit sand. The blood flowed like wine, and like wine stained all it touch, the sand turned black and shone like oil. Bits of bone and teeth littered like glass and hair was all over the place making it all one sloppy mess. Jonny looked at his hand, it was bleeding vigorously and his thumb was spurting blood like a hose. He instantly grabbed that and held tight, painfully tight, as he very slowly felt everything return to his sense while his adrenaline pumped. He was running with rifle and thumb in hand to Tankovy. He rushed up to her and begged “bandage! Bandage! Please, bandage!” She calmly moved his hand and then rushed to stop the arterial bleeding. She lifted him up into her driver’s hatch and carefully wrapped his palm and fingers. He looked into her eyes, they were a light blue with white impressions. He looked over her turret, it was a low and wide turret with an oblong shape that was tallest on his left, her right, where he would sit. She had a massive lamp on the right side of her gun and a massive machine gun on her roof for the commander. Her turret cheeks had bits and tubes on them for smoke charges he reckoned. He figured out which tank she was. He couldn’t stop himself from saying it. “You have beautiful eyes, Tankovy 72.”
She stopped and thought, then glanced up to his eyes. “Thank you.” She went back to finishing the wrap and Jonny watched her. Once it was wrapped up he climbed into the turret on his own, surprising her. He climbed into the hatch and waited, and she waited, they waited silently. Now it was her half of the plan. At exactly 0040 the bombs detonated. The ground shook and the entire valley illuminated with fire and filled with ash. She kicked her engine to life and it roared to life, amidst the screams, explosions, and rumbling Jonny heard the engine purr and growl, the heavy diesel engine whined and wheezed as it shifted gears, then again hummed as she sped towards the fire and chaos. As her skin grew hotter her adrenaline pumped harder, her hope rose, and her determination strengthened. Jonny watched through the periscopes the damage they caused and it brought delight to him, but it wasn’t enough. He opened the hatch and stood up. Tankovy was shocked. “Wha-What are you doing!?”
“Fuck these bastards!” He grabbed the heavy machine gun and racked the slide. He shifted the gun over to the side and pressed the butterfly trigger, shooting at anything standing at human height. The massive gun tore anything flesh in half, ensuring that it was going to die. All Jonny felt while he cut down the dozens of terrorists down was the rattling in his bones, his arms going numb, and the vibrations of the engine in his legs. He chanted various insults and phases of vengeance as his blood boiled at the thought of letting one of them survive. He gunned all the terrorists that were confused, scared, panicking, and grabbing whatever they could to defend themselves to no avail.
“John! Aim front! Guards!” She automatically turned the gun to the front and pointed at the areas the RPGs usually waited. One instantly stood up to aim at her but a burst from Jonny’s gun hit him in the neck and flung his head into the night sky. The other guard freaked out, panicked, and prematurely launched his rocket into the other side of the mountain. That triggered a rock slide that fell behind them. The man who would give the signal of enemy stood bewildered by the hill, she specifically changed course to hit him, and when she did his body collapsed like a wet noodle against her bow, splitting open his guts and slowly slipped off her bow, being dragged and gutted as he completely fell off her body.
They raced into the dunes and kept going, laughing and celebrating that they got away! Jonny was going home! He was very excited, over joyed and tearing up. Tankovy was free! She could go home! She felt a wall of emotions hit her, she, too, teared up. Once they felt that they were in the clear they stopped and discussed where they were, she pulled out a map and Jonny went back down to her diver’s hatch to help navigate. She could barely pull her gaze off of him, she had no idea how good looking of a man he was until then, she just had the time to think about it. He scanned over and over the map trying to read the Arabic writing, she did steal it from the terrorists. Suddenly he had to piss, he asked to relieve himself.
“Go ahead, John, no more shell case.” He was excited about the freedom she granted him, he climbed out and walked down and a little behind her on the slope and undid his pants, and relieved himself. He moaned out in relaxation, and enjoyed himself. It occured to Tankovy what she really wanted!
“Ah, yeah.” He moaned as the stream eneded.
Jonny?
“Yeah, Tankony?” He asked shaking his dong off.
Don’t bother zipping your fly!” He was about to ask why when he turned to glance at her and knew why.

Filed under Gingyflame, Stories · Tagged with ,

Distressed II

Distress II
Jonny Blacked out as soon as he heard a loud crashing noise, his screams of pain and pleas went unnoticed. He didn’t even know what happened, it was all a flash, then a blur, next thing he knew he was on his back, couldn’t move his legs, and was staring at the ceiling of some Afghan house. He tried thrashing about to get unstuck or get up, but all that did was make it hurt more and black out quicker. He passed out just after the black out, and was unconscious. That was when the 72 found him. She scanned over him with her eyes a few times to assess his wounds and determine if he was worth it, and he was. She determined his legs might heal, but weren’t vital to his health. She used manipulators to hold him still while the tendril probes pierced his body as if to transform him to check his bone composition. His right leg was broken in to spots and dislocated, she quickly popped it back into place, and his left leg was troublesome. His left leg was closest to the blast and was broken, shattered, and probably wouldn’t recover. She figured it was really just held together by his skin. While he had many open wounds and was bleeding heavily she cautiously removed his trousers, wrapped his legs in bandages she had collected or stolen, and ensured there was no more bleeding in his lower body. She put his pants back on and moved him carefully onto a bench’s seat, and used it as a stretcher. She searched his body for any tracking equipment, she dropped anything she suspected of tracking him and stole some electronics from his equipment like batteries, plugs, an antenna, anything she thought could be useful as a component. She then placed him on her engine deck and covered him with a blanket after washing off his head to check for wounds-just some scrapes and a massive bruise-and to make sure he didn’t dehydrate or cook to death. She then backed out and went back to camp.
She traveled into the mountains and through a winding path to where there were two men and a herd of goats resting in the shade of the mountain. The two men pulled out a radio and talked into it, she passed the guards. She moved further in and entered the main hub of the camp, caves and tunnels surrounded her, all etched into the mountainside like it were an ant pile. She ventured further, weaving through stocks of I.E.D. material, animals, people, and shit, and reached a pit where she resided, it faced the larger way in, the way laden with mines, I.E.D.s and traps. She was the final obstacle. It was here she moved him to her front and covered him with more blankets, all soaked in collected water to cool him off and clean him up. They were the hand-me-downs of hand-me-downs, ragged, torn, bloody, and patchy, this is how the Al-Qaeda treated their assets’ needs. Nevertheless they did the job and further probing indicated his internal body temperature was leveling out and cooling. She constantly rotated the blankets through the tub to keep him cool, and was further inspecting his wounds, guarding him from anyone curious, and treated him as she saw fit. Once nighttime hit she moved him ever so carefully into her hull through her turret. It was crowded, probably uncomfortable, but this was her best way of protecting him. She had decided that she would splint his legs and let them heal, so that can be used in her favor if she’s tried in a court against her. She wanted him awake badly, so he could eat, but wanted to let him strengthen first, but she figured if he can’t eat he can’t grow, so she lit a match right under his nose.
Jonny suddenly jolted to life, it was loud, echoing, and a dim red from a match about two inches from the tip of his nose. Before he could scream a sturdy hand clasped over his mouth while many more grabbed him and held him down. He resisted and shook trying to escape but it was useless, he was locked down tight. Suddenly a snake-like entity moved out from under a ledge and opened like a banana almost and produced a long needle that glimmered red and black in the light. His eyes darted around and noticed he was in a bubble, a bubble with a monstrously large assembly in the middle and radio-looking gear to his right. The seat he was in was like a bicycle seat and the backrest was bland and pinching his back. He felt unbearably cramped and was nearly freaking out. What have I gotten into!? “You listen American! For your life you listen!” The needle darted closer and stroked his exposed neck. “You do as I say, you do it when I tell you to do it, you say nothing but yes, no, and toilet. Am I understood!?” Once the hand moved away he went full boot on the voice.
“Johnathan Reeves, Private, United States Army, 4-4-6-”
“No!” He was slapped good and firm across the face, he felt indentures and crevices in the hand. “You dumb fuck! Yes, no, or toilet, UNDERSTOOD?”
“TOILET!” She slapped him again trying her best not to giggle but some peeped out.
“Listen here you little worm, I don’t need much effort or thought to kill you, I don’t need you, but if you cooperate you will see your family again, your land again, your freedom again. I guarantee it with my pride, honor, and Russian motherland. ONLY if you cooperate! Am I understood?”
“Yes, ma’am!” She went to slap him again but eased off.
“Very well.”
“Why should I help you?” She went to hit him but stopped and thought, if she didn’t give him some purpose he’d refuse to comply, he needed something to strive for.
“We have the same, goals, er, private. We both want to go home.”
“How do I play into this?” She was growing frustrated with him.
“Because I need an American.”
“Why?”
“If you don’t stop asking qusetions I will beat you!”
“I’ll take it until I die, then, fuck you!” She was growing enraged at him, even as a prisonor, her pet, he still had some authority over her and it infurriated her. “Tell me a plan and I’ll do whatever you want.” She vented a heavy breath through her vents.
“Fine.” She barked. “I plan on getting back to Russia by breaking out of here, but in order to do so, I need a diversion. Before you panic you should survive the diversion. You create the diversion, we slip away, and you help navigate me through the area to your base. From we part. That is all you need.”
“Well it sounds nice,” he started, “but one thing, YOU BLEW UP MY LEGS YOU BITCH!” She really hit him hard for that one, drew quite an amount of blood, too.
“YOU don’t think I haven’t noticed your wounds!? You weak, flimsy, bag of worthless flesh, oh! Oh how disgusting your kind is! I’m disgusted with you bags of meat.” The way she referred to him as meat, flesh, really made him fear for his sake, his trust was on the fence but the promise of home, no matter how timid, drove him to agree. “I’ve already tended to most of your wounds wholly, soon I will have a splint and brace for your legs, you will not move them without my assistance otherwise. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am. You have my full compliance.”
“Good, good.” She smiled for once, she smiled for the first time in years. “Very, very good.” There was a long sullen pause before she mentioned something, it was about canned food she had been given by the terrorists, she fed him and suddenly piped something up. “About that toilet request..,”

Filed under Gingyflame, Stories · Tagged with ,

Hansel and Marion Ch 51

I’m back! And boy has it been a long time since I’ve done HaM, and here they are, life in America!

Enjoy!

The New World

Ch 51
Marion quickly confronted the Swiss cheese Tiger and learned of how he was related to Adler, and why he looked like Swiss cheese. They talked briefly before Kramia came up with her newborn, Igor, the sweetest little thing as Kramia called him. Igor looked like a Panther hull squashed to the height of a T-34 hull, he had his father’s suspension and his mother’s drive train, Igor had what looked like an elongated Panther turret with a long smooth gun with no muzzle assembly, like his mother’s 85, and he really was the sweetest and friendliest thing with bright blue eyes. Marion didn’t even notice that Kramia had her 85 back on because she was so wrapped up in Igor, but Kramia had changed her guns out, and Mini made a wall mount for the gun which was proudly displayed in the main room of their warehouse. Devestaor and Kramia did their best to update Marion and Hansel on the times missed, none of the couples have broken, which was good to hear, and Kitty was rumored to have a special someone in mind. The Porcshe tanks were heard to be planning a child, Fritz and Jager turned out to be expecting and Edwards had found work at the nearby train station as a engine mechanic. Fritz and Jager had tricked him into a trap and had forcibly changed him to the humorph, he was on the fence about it but leaned away from it because he was thinking of marrying humans, but Fritz and Jager were strongly “recommending” transformation. Kramia also mentioned how Whacker and the IS, Shellproof, had also become a couple. Marion went off to find Cindy and she did, Marion was amazed at how big she had grown, Cindy was almost as big as her parents, so close she had standard Sherman tracks, they were a little loose but they worked. Cindy was very enthralled to see Marion again and flung herself at Marion, embracing Marion like she did her own parents. Hansel and Marion went all around trying to catch up with everyone, and meet all the new little ones like Rosa’s and Joshua’s little bundle. They had a baby boy named Zachery, and that led on to a surprise to all from Chuck and Katelyn were expecting, just out of the blue they came out and said Katelyn has been pregnant for almost three weeks.
It was at this time Hansel counted his blessings, his overabundance of blessings. He survived a direct hit from a tank, survived recovery, met the love of his life and his guardian angel, he’s carried his brothers to safety, he thought of all the things he’s done that would be seen as traitorous: help an enemy vehicle, spare the enemy, cooperate with them, and eventually join them. At the time he didn’t think much of it, more going along with what Marion would want, but if he was ever caught by command of that, he might not be alive today. The eufora swept over him, just how well everything went for him. In the world’s darkest moments he shone bright, and fortune favored him. Dear God, He thought, What have I done to deserve this? How can I repay this?
Soon after that day Hansel started looking for work. He put in many applications but with what little English he could write it was difficult and made even worse with having no references. He had no background in America, his whole time in the army was classified, all of his work were German companies and the only thing he’d be able to prove was being a mechanic; he didn’t trust his crop dusting flight time because of how long ago he did that. He thought about trying to be a salesman but with his German accent, who’d buy from the loser? The ex-nazi? Marion tried to comfort him and keep his spirirts up and after a few weeks she didn’t have to try so hard, he got a job offer.
Roberson was glad to get Hansel into work, it turned out that he’d been going through applications at the store his father had just opened and noticed a Hansel, he only knew one guy named Hansel and went through it. Roberson noticed the obvious German-esque spelling errors and called to make sure it was who he thought it was. Roberson confirmed it was Hansel Walter and pressured his father to override the reject stamp and hire Hansel, so it was done. Roberson personally shook Hansel’s hand and when thanked he replied: “No Walter, thank you! I served in the third army, you and your Tiger personally saved my life, this is the least I could do to repay you. How are you guys? How’s she doing? She’s, she’s still around, right?” Hansel hush-hushed him because it was classified, but assured him she was well, that they all are well.
“Also,” Hansel added, “I’m going to marry her as soon as I can afford the ring.” Roberson was surprised.
“Wow, congradulations! Honestly thought you already did marry her.” Hansel quickly picked up on his new line of work working in a grocery store, the work load wasn’t extreme but it was a heavy load. He stocked shelves and unloaded trucks, Roberson knew Hansel was a leader and was setting him up to be in management at some point, so with Hansel’s hard work and dedication mixed with support from higer ups he made progress at a welcome rate. He made some raises and moved positions in under two years.
Marion, because she’s technically classified, spent her days at home. Of her boredom and desire to do something she asked Hansel to bring home some plant seeds he talked about, and she became quite a gardener, she also kept up with her little hobby of crafting objects out of wood. She had made numerous things like the cooking utensils she used, a coat hanger, a little cabinet, a beautiful sculpture of a fox, and of a little name plaque for Hansel. She’d also try cooking a lot, and spent a lot of her time cooking and trying different concoctions of foods, some she liked, others she didn’t, and as Hansel would find out and quickly agree, she had become very good at cooking. He loved her cooking, he dreamed of it sometimes, he’d compliment her on almost everything, almost. He wasn’t afraid to say that it wasn’t good, and Marion was never upset by that, that’s what groomed her into such a good cook. Every morning they’d greet each other, eat breakfast together and talk about their plans, then Hansel would kiss her goodbye, wish each other a good day, and he’d go to work. Typical family life of the 40’s, except they didn’t have kids to pat off to school, Marion wanted kids, but had gotten a fix from raising and caring for Cindy so her desire wasn’t pressing, just a want. She knew how expensive kids would be, and how insecure Hansel feels at the moment financially, he wasn’t well off but they knew they weren’t suffering. Hansel just wanted to have money saved up for when that time came.
They never fought or really argue, they’d disagree over petty things like what furniture would fit the scene or how the new bushes should look, sometimes they’d never agree but mostly they would be swayed to the other’s view. Mostly for the better but they never were stubborn, if it was a bad decision they fixed it. They were very flexible in other words, and in those first two years they had made the place very homey and they were quite happy and proud of what they’d done together. They were constantly busy with something and never had any sex, they relieved thier stresses in other ways, hobbies and such, and if the desire persisted they’d relieve themselves so the other wasn’t disturbed in thier work. But every evening when Hansel got home he asked her about her day, she’d tell him a quick summary and then she’d ask him about his, he’d run down his schedule, and ask about certain parts of hers, she’d elaborate and ask about some of his which he’d explain. Then they ate dinner together, talking about their plans for tomorrow, and the weekend or the holiday. They’d play some games and listen to the radio, elaborate on something that happened or their plans, and then they’d tidy up, Hansel would wash up-Marion was washed by Hansel about every Saturday, and they’d turn in for the night, wrapped up in their arms and tucked in for the night.
——————————————————————————————————
Hansel set his car into park and turned off the engine. The Florida rain was coming down hard, like it always did in summer, and he didn’t feel like getting out of the car. He was home late, real late, and it was because of a lot, but he’d only say work kept him that late. Truth was that work did go late and was very hard, the electric lift was busted so the whole truck had to be unloaded by hand by just himself and some highschool kid. Next he went over to the jewelry store and got the rings that he’d been looking at, that took a lot longer than he expected, and since the end of the war Florida had started populating more so there was road work to make the roads safer, safer not safe, and that held him up even longer. So his expected plan to be out of the store and home by seven was completely blow out of the water as his watch read 10:22 pm. He nearly hit a deer, too, scared him shitless like he had been shot again. He sluggishly looked to the passenger side and made sure his items were all together, the rings buried on the bottom of the paper bag and stacked on top were some groceries Marion wanted, a handful of watermelon seeds he finally remembered to collect, a whole chicken body, some small art supplies that his store had, and some pens. He sighed deeply and tucked the things under his coat and made a break for the porch through the pouring rain. He got to the porch with only stepping in one mud puddle, usually it’s about three. He kicked and stomped his shoes around to get as much mud off, then bent his aching back over to pick out the mud in the laces. He reached into the bottom of the bag and plucked the rings out and put them into his back pocket of his pants before he entered the house portion of the home. He took off his coat and shook it off and placed it neatly onto the coat rack Marion made, he kicked off his shoes and kicked them into the corner; he’d clean them off later, and walked through the hallway, through the house kitchen and dining room into the main room. The main room they called the living room was where the vast open space was for Marion, and if you walked in like Hansel had and turned around it would look like the whole wall of the house had fallen down and exposed the innards. The two floors reminds them of the “old western” movie bars with the staircase leading up to a balcony leading to the rooms on the second floor. There were three bedrooms on the second floor and one full bathroom, the first floor had a lounge, office, kitchen, dining room, laundry room, and an additional bedroom with a full and half bathroom. The whole hangar had been divided by Marion into five areas, her kitchen, laundry wall, living room, maintenance area, and bedroom. Hansel and her had only erected basic frames for the walls and hadn’t done anything more with it yet, because Marion wanted to adjust the size of the bedroom to make it smaller, more like the barn they first ‘met’ each other. Marion was also thinking about dividing more space for rooms like a guest room, two bedrooms, and maybe some more kitchen room for storage. Hansel supported her ideas, and would like so expand into the house so she could use some of that space, too, but she liked the way it looked. “Oh, Hansel, where were you I’ve been worried sick!” He groaned.
“I’ve been at work, we got an extra shipment and the lift was busted. It was Carter and myself. How’re you doing, dear?”
“Oh that sounds like it was rough, I’m fine, just the little cat-things came by and gave me a headache, they really like our potatoes.”
“I bet, they’ve been digging at them for weeks.” He sat down at a cushion chair against the wall and let out a relaxing sigh. Marion rolled over to him and massaged his shoulder.
“Supper’s cold by now, want me to heat it up for you?” He rubbed his face and looked up to her, meeting her gaze with his, her gaze had never changed. That was the exact same lovely and beautiful gaze she gave him the night he met her.
“Ah, no, no, it’s fine, babe, I’ll eat it cold. Thank you, thanks for supper.” He wretched himself out of the comfy chair and hobbled over to the stove she cooked on. Inside the pot was warm stew of carrots, beef, peas and potateos with a hint of seasoning that she loved making, and Hansel loved eating. “Oh this smells great, Marion! I love you.” He made himself a bowl and grabbed another, “Would you want some, dear?”
“No, I’ll save it for tomorrow. You can take some for lunch if you’d like.”
“Oh yes please,” he scooped up some stew and hurriedly ate some, “I swear you get better and betteer, babe.”
“Oh stop, you just get hungrier I don’t get better.” He sat down at the table and gulped down another spoonful.
“I disagree, you get better.” He quickly devoured the bowl and thanked her again for the meal. She was going through the bag he brought home.
“Oh yes! You remembered the seeds!” She smiled and examined them, little black and tan tear drop seeds in a jar made her so happy, and that made Hansel happy. As she sifted through the seeds with her mechanical hand Hansel felt his back pocket, the rings were there. It made him smile more. Once she’s done, he thought, then it happens. “Hansel, do you know if there is any yellow paint or dye at the store? I want to make a sculpture of the long leg birds that walk the yard.”
“I’ll have to check for it, don’t know off the top of my head.” He watched her go through the bags and sort the items out on the table and once she turned to put something away he proped himself up, pulled the ring box out of his pocket and stepped away from the table. “Marion?”
“Yes, Hansel?” She turned her gaze and saw the little box. Hansel slowly and painfully got down on one knee and opened the box, Marion gasped and droped the jar of seeds.
“Marion would you marry me?” He smiled pleadingly, Marion’s hands clasped her mouth as she teared up, and visibly shook.
“Yes! Yes! Yes Hansel I’ll marry you!” Tears streamed down her face and she pulled him up to kiss her. Her turret was off over her right side so when they kissed Hansel could hold her chin as they locked together for one of thier longest kisses. Her arms wrapped around all of him, through his shirt and in his socks, through his hair and into his hands, it felt like the end of the war but better! Hansel, too, teared up and cried with her. Once they broke apart she laid him out and held him aginst her side where he fought not to fall asleep.
“I love you Marion, with all my-*yawn*-heart, I’ll be by you through good and bad, thick and thin, joy and pain. Just as you have been there for me I’ll be there for you, till death do us part and again when I find you in heaven.” Marion had no idea what to say, ‘I love you’ wasn’t enough, she had no words for this emotion, it vastly outmatched any dialogue she had prepared, she was truly swamped with emotion. Even though he wasn’t going to enjoy it, it’ll be painful, and she didn’t want to do it, they had planned that if he ever married her she’d convert him to a humorph. He knew as well, he knew how much it was going to hurt-indescribable pain and misery, literal life-changing and body fusing torture. But in the end both knew it had to be done and the benefits outweighed any physical feeling they had. So Marion asked him;
“Hansel, are you sure you want to do this?” She opened one of her tendrils to reveal the long and thick probe, the base a series of coils and hoses, and the point fine and pricky. She felt a little sick herself looking at it, she’d never been penetrated by anything-just Hansel- and being armored and mentaly built so nothing would penetrate her, it felt wrong and sickening to think about the whole concept of injection.
“I’m not sure, babe, but this is the plan. I’m going to marry you no matter what, might as well stick around.” He looked into her uncertainty, her eyes beading still from crying. “Do it.” With that she put some cloth between his teeth and lined up the injectors, tears bubbled at her eyes and blurred her vision but it was too late, they were lined up and ready. She clentched her eyes shut and pressed into him.
The actual penetration wasn’t bad for Hansel. Her body was warm and the needles seemed to fade away in his body unlike normal shots, the metal wasn’t icy cold and instead he was left with the aching and pinching feeling at the skin and like there was a knot in his muscles. He thought to himself This isn’t too bad when she hit him with it. Suddenly an intense burning sensation filled the points from the inside out, and rapid and sudden muscle contractions twitched and pulled all around his body, he felt loss of any control and then the real pain hit. He felt like he was dying, like he was being filled like a balloon, the fiery feeling turned into a black and gnawing beast slowly crossing into the mortal realm, hell itself was using Hansel as a portal. Hansel screamed and cried out, all he could somewhat control, but the rest of him was thrashing about, his head slammed against her armor and he felt not pain but relief when that happened. It soon felt like his very flesh was being ripped off his bone, bare bone suddenly had nerves and they cried and bled out in pain and misery. His guts began thrashing as if they were a separate entity, Hansel wasn’t very religious but he swore for the rest of his life that at that moment the very beings of God and Satan were fighting inside of him, immortals were ravaging his body and slowly it felt like he was losing. Marion was trying her best to keep him from hurting himself with restrictions and soothing voices to help but his muffled screams would drown her out for anyone nearby. Hansel felt like murder, felt like his organs were ripping and tearing and popping slowly, oh so slowly! His eyes blacked out but he could still see but it wasn’t the roof or Marion like before, no, now it was him, he saw himself dying. His heart suddenly stopped beating and he felt it but still the bleeding sensation lived on. It came back again with a vengeance and felt like it was exploding out of his chest, his ribcage was cracking and healing all at once, his brain shrinking and expanding at once, his lungs collapsing and breathing like never before. His screams worrying Marion even more. She was crying, full on crying. In her mind she vowed she’d never do this again, never.
By the time it was completed Marion was sobbing, she had drenched Hansel in his sweat and her tears. She pulled the injectors out and pressed him against her turret cheek with his blank face looking at her eye. She kept crying and chanting how sorry she was, pleading for him to come to, to come back. She was praying to the God she never learned to give him back. His hair was full and smooth as she stroked through it, his muscles tight and taught, his body warm and convulsing, his limbs twitched and squirmed. She thought she killed him, she couldn’t get an answer from him, she couldn’t feel a beat through his soaked clothes, and it had been ten minutes since she stopped. She blamed herself, he wasn’t ready or she didn’t do it right, she killed him and it was all her doing. She killed her love, killed him in the most brutal and aganizing death possible. She’d never forgive herseld for it, how she was going to carry on she didn’t know and didn’t expect to. She wanted to die, to join him in death, she couldn’t go on without him. It was unfeasable for her.
No this isn’t no fucking Romeo and Juliet shit calm down.
Hansel puked his guts out and gasped for air. His eyes shot open and he looked around confused, panicking, and frightened. He fixed his gaze on Marion as she sat there breathtaken. She did’t notice his vomit all over her body, she didn’t notice the thunderous storm that had turned into a hurricane, she didn’t notice the time passing. She noticed one thing and one thing only. She noticed Hansel. She admired every detail his body had to offer, from the size of his toes to how many eyelashes he had. They sat and stared in silence. Hansel was sweating profusely and was breathing heavily, he didn’t feel too different and was wondering how he looked. Marion just wouldn’t stop staring at him, he decided to say something. “You alright, Marion?”
“Yes I’m fine. Baby, are you alright?” Hansel self checked himself, he was exhausted and his stomach was empty, but he craved things other than food like a fuel of a sorts, and of course Marion’s cooking always sounded good.
“I-uh, I’m starving honey, I could eat something.” Marion was warned about this by F2, Hansel’s gonna want something only she can make, not by hand but by body. She messed with him a bit.
“Like, like what? Describe it.”
“Uh, something kind of liquid, goes down easy.”
“Yeah? So like a soup or stew?”
“No, no not a stew or soup, not even a chowder. I, I want something creamy, no chunks at all, please.”
“So I could put the stew in the blender, sound good?”
“No. Damn, I must be such a pain right now but I don’t know what it is, it’s fatty and creamy, no chunks, nothing blended that leaves scraps around and I want it.., I want it uniform. I want it warm, too, I think it’s-”
“Milk, you want breast milk.” Hansel blushed red, Marion giggled a little bit. “I know what you want, you want breast milk.” Hansel started denying it. “Hansel you described it almost to the letter, I know what you want because Zwei told me, it’s my tit milk!” Hansel continued to deny it even though his mouth watered and his stomach churned for it. “Hansel, just admit it, you’ll feel better I promise, sweetie.” He swallowed his pride, it didn’t help his hunger as he wished, and he admitted it.
“Milk sounds really good, honey.” She giggled and sat him on the other side of the turret on her deck. Her towing eye opened and out came the feeding hose. It went up her glacsis and into Hansel’s lap. He picked it up with hungry eyes and a salivated mouth and put it to his lips. He sucked gently at first on the nipple and when it fed to him rich, warm, creamy, milk he started to suck on it more. He slipped into a more reclined position and drank and drank and drank. He drank his fill and then when he was done he rolled over to sleep. “Marion,”
“Yes dear? More milk?”
“No, but thank you, tell everyone we’re getting married, and try on the ring, too.”
“Oh Hansel, I told you don’t spoil me, I don’t want these luxeries. This extra glitter, it’s not my style. It’s not me.” She picked up the ring box and looked at the ring, it had a gold band with a diamond in the middle and two littler ones beside it. “The ring is gorgeous, dear, I think it’s amazing, but I don’t think I’d wear it.” She wrapped her arms up around him and stripped him of the wet clothes and wrapped him into a blanket cocoon. That reminded Hansel he threw up on her and he motioned to clean it up. “No, no, it’s already eleven, you have work tomorrow. I’ll clean it, you rest. You need it more than me.”
“I love you, Marion.”
“I love you, Hansel.”
He performed normally at work, told Roberson that he did it, finally proposed to Marion and got a yes. Other than Roberson Hansel was just another guy at work, didn’t talk to another person about personal life. Marion didn’t really want to tell everyone that Hansel proposed because she felt like that’d be bragging about it, she just didn’t feel right doing that so she kept it to herself until the weekend when they made their monthly trip up to the base for check ups and meetings. There she told everyone Hansel proposed and that they were getting married, and she brought the ring along to show it was real. It seemed Marion wasn’t alone in feeling iffy about the ring, nearly all the female tanks didn’t want a ring, Kitty said she’d like a ring but not to wear, she wanted one to call her own in her collection of jewelry and bling she had as a collection. Hetz was the only one who said she’d wear a ring and would want too wear it. But they all did want to show their marriage off, but how? They were all sitting around when they overheard Hansel and Whacker joking around.
“So you can come down and work on the wiring when the time comes, Whacker?’
“Yeah, Sell I can do it. I’ll just give Shell a heads up about it and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. She might even come down with me.”
“So she had you on a leash, then, eh?”
“What?”
“No more chasing the ladies around? No more bachelor for you?”
“Oh yeah, she killed this bachelor, gonna put a big old kill mark on her gun for that impressive kill.” They continued on with the idea laughing. Marion didn’t think that was a bad idea. She admired her kill marks that were painted out, the thin stripes were killing allied armor and soft skins and the thick ones were killing axis armor. The SS tank was a really thick black stripe with the white lightning bolts on either side. It was her most proud kill. She imagined that gold ring around her barrel and thought of how nice it would look, like she was an ace tank, fighters painting their noses yellow being an ace and her, her kill stripe was yellow for the ace kill: a husband. “Yeup, a big ole fat guy’s gonna be on her gun when we marry. The very paint itself will reek of beer and sausage.” When Marion and Hansel went home that night she talked to him about it.
“Hansel, honey, would you put another mark on my gun?” He knew what it was.
“You heard Whacker and I joking?”
“I did, but it’s not a bad idea, baby. I’d proudly wear it, I want it, Hansel. I think it fits perfectly.” He wasn’t against it at all.
“Marion, most rings have some sort of phrase or pattern on them, would you want that on your band?” She opened her mouth to say something, looking at her gun, but nothing came out at first.
“Anything on the ring you got?” There wasn’t. “Okay, uh, no then. But it’s paint, we could do something with it later.”
“Alright, when do you want me to put it on.” This was her dilemma, she wanted it then, right there, but they weren’t married yet, she wanted to display it but not lie about it. She described her dilemma to Hansel and he came up with a solution she saw fit He’d paint two very thin and fine gold lines with a gap in between them, they agreed that on their marriage day, maybe at the ceremony, the gap would be filled and they would be properly married.
Not too long after Hansel put the engagement stripes on her they were married at the church on the base. Their only family was there, the tanks and family they made in the war. It wasn’t s typical wedding mainly because there aren’t tanks in attendance, so the level of serious wasn’t as high as other weddings. There was a little joking, Marion wasn’t in a gown but Cindy mad her a little tiara to wear on her cupola and she slipped in the soft dirt a little while driving the aisle, there were no flower girls and no ring bearers, the bride’s maids were ‘lined up’ in a bunch so they could see past each other, the Groom’s men were bunched up in the same fashion as well. There were few tux’s worn, most just wore their dress uniform who had a uniform, few ladies were there that could fit into a dress to begin with but those who could wore fine dresses in the middle of the field and cared little how dirty they got. Hansel chose Whacker as his First man, and had Mini, Chuck, Joshua, Inbred, and Fritz as the Groom’s men, he would have had Banker in the line up as well but he signed up to stay with Betty, his Pershing lover, and they were in some base in at state called Kentucky. Marion’s bride’s maids were Jager, Hetz, F2, Kramia, Rosa, and her sister Porscha. It started out a beautiful Sunday morning and by the time the celebration ended it was pouring down rain. They didn’t mind and had an after party well into the night, at around one in the morning everybody had dispersed. Marion had a good bit to drink but being how big she is it was almost ineffective to her, Hansel had a little to drink, too, but was just as buzzed as Marion. They got home at around three in the morning, Marion was all covered in mud and cake, just a smear of cake streaking down her upper glacsis and Hansel had a champagne stain on his jacket and was certain he lost his bow tie, Marion had grabbed it off his chair so it wasn’t lost. Once the door slammed shut they locked into another kiss, the taste of Red Apple Cider, Marion’s choice, and the bland Champagne, Hansel’s drink because no one fought for the bottle, still lingered on their tongues and aired in their mouths. As they drew away they went for another kiss and mixed the tastes more, and again and again until they had kissed the taste of their drinks away.
“Ready to start the honeymoon, my wife?”
“Let’s start it up, my husband!”
Fin Ch 51

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) (he gon get it) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

 

Also I worked my ass off and finally got Marion on War Tinder (War Thunder but it’s us we’re talking about), and while I haven’t actually made a skin for her this is what I scrounged up to represent her, the gold band on the barrel in the Hansel Hubby Kill. But she calls it either the Hubby Stripe or Hansel Stripe.

Filed under Gingyflame, Stories · Tagged with , , ,

The Lost Olympian

So it’s been quite a while since I’ve done anything, I’m sorry about it I’ve just been going through a lot, a lot of change in my life. Nonetheless I’ve always kept my stories in mind and I’ve got a big one for y’all! The next insert in Titanic’s story, The Lost Olympian. I hope to get back into this like before, but I’m just real busy right now, and for a good long time, too. But I’ll do what I can, when I can. But without further delay,

Enjoy.

The lost Olympian
Prinz Eugen loaded her eight massive 203 mm naval guns and conversed with Patelo and an explosive excavation specialist about where to plant the shots. Titanic impatiently waited about a kilometer behind watching. Ever since they entered Norwegian waters she’s been watching Eugen blast ice wall after ice wall, blast iceberg after iceberg. The current would push the dislodged ice chunks further north, out of their way in into colder waters, and that would keep the eco-heads happy. Now the machines certainly aren’t eco-heads but they really don’t like all the fuel consumption going on, either. Nonetheless this and Olympic were what was plaguing her mind; keeping a clean Earth and meeting her sister again. Suddenly out of the boredom a large and intimidating roar flooded the air and echoed down the icy chasm as Eugen released the third barrage onto the ice shelf. With the rather spot on accuracy the massive wall crumbled and plummeted down to the ocean. Massive splashes and waves rushed out towards them. Titanic braced and winced as the stinging water smacked her hull and carried her up and over.
“Damn that’s cold!” And she’s still used to being in waters about 3° C. Once the waves settled and the ice moved away they got a sonar report.
“All clear Titanic, we’re moving in.” Titanic found Bradley, stopped him from what he was doing, and gripped him tight and held him firm. Titanic fought to put absolutely everything she had into her engines and propellers but the crew fought back. Even though she had new engines, enough boats for her small crew, a stronger hull with topped off watertight compartments and nearly all veteran crew, the thought of history repeating still cast its shadow over them all. They took their sweet time and careful caution. They watched for outcropping the sonar missed, they checked to make sure that there was no overhang to hit the masts or funnels, and there was none. The walls were suspiciously ridged and even, the path wide and constant, the massive turn they were making was constant. They had the rudders about a fifth over to port and were traveling at 10 knots. It was eerie quiet, scary perfect, and uncomfortably calm. After some time Prinz Eugen entered a fairly large delta-like harbor and was aghast, Titanic eagerly turned the corner and saw her sitting across the bay staring at Titanic with a complete dumbfounded look of bewilderment.
“Olympic!” Bradley got her reaction all on camera.
“Am I dead, then?” Prinz Eugen was still aghast, not because she existed, but because of what she was covered in. Titanic didn’t notice or even know it’s relevance.
“No! No! They raised me! He raised me!” She nudged towards Bradley as he turned to film Olympic’s reaction. Olympic was very, very confused. Titanic began explaining what had happened, like being found, some looting, so much fascination with her and eventually got to her being raised. While she was doing that Bradley turned to Eugen, who looked back, both of them shocked. Titanic blissfully was unaware of any details and it’s no surprise why, nobody ever told her about the Nazis. Bradley brought it up with Titanic, asking her what’s all over Olympic. “Well, I don’t know.” She finally looked at the draped banners and painted emblems. “Olympic, what’s all over you? What is that?” It seemed she had no idea what Titanic was talking about. Then it suddenly hit her.
“Oh these flags? Well after I retired and moved here the Germans showed up in.., 42? Maybe? I think that’s what year they said it was. Anyways they asked if they could use me as a base of operations and in return they’d maintain me and service me. I agreed, I had grown quite lonely by then, and thus they brought up all their flags and draped then from the promenade deck and painted their.., their.., shvashteka on my decks. They built this dry dock for me, they carved out a channel for their boats-they had massive submarines! Nothing like the ones from the Great War! Oh these were much bigger, and they had many officers come aboard, many sailors and soldiers alike, they set up a lab, tested me, they even recommended updating my engines and electricals. But they never did that.”
“What all do you know? What else was going on?”
“Well the radio reception in here is absolutely terrible, so that’s why they built a tower up there on the shelf, and wired in some hard lines to my radio room. They kept a tight guard on it and never told me anything. They told me what they were doing here, of course, but not much else. When they left all they took are their boats, the radios, and weapons. They left everything else, including a bunch of documents but I can’t read German.” Eugen was interested. “Every now and then I’ll get some Norwegian radio but I don’t know Norwegian, but their music is nice.” Bradley was trying to start breaking WW2 to her but Eugen completely took over describing Hitler’s rise to power, the hate, the Jewish prosecution, the invasions, the fact that Britain and Germany warred against each other, and she kept going. She explained what Hitler and his staff did with the Jews, gays, crippled, gypsies, and other inferior beings. She described important details with accuracy and blunt truth, the blood of the nation being slowly ringed out and the horrors that ensued with invading a desperate nation. She mentioned almost every atrocity, all she knew at least, and all the consequences. It didn’t take very long for Olympic to turn pale and regret everything, guilt ensued her and enveloped her. She felt sick not just in her bowels but everywhere. She had been a veteran of the first war, one point evacuate the wounded-the mamed and gassed, the shot and starved, and she saw millions of those wounds all on one body, for everybody, as far as the horizon-and she helped that happen. If she had more human like bodily reflexes she’d throw up. Titanic didn’t even know about that, she begged Bradley to tell her more and he said he’d try his best.
Olympic wasn’t very friendly after that, not for a while anyways. She begged that the flags be ripped off her-her arms couldn’t reach-and her decks cleaned. She was on the brink of crying. They really didn’t have a way of getting to her, the gangways on the dry dock looked rotten and weak and the docks were too high to send the lifeboats, Titanic’s crew could split up and man Titanic as a skeleton crew with the majority of crew going to Olympic, but as of then they had no means of getting them to Olympic. Olympic said that tides rose quite high here, and that there’s some sheltered wood in a house at the back of the dry dock, when asked about provisions she said it probably all went bad decades ago. So they gathered up food, water, tools, rope, anything else they’d need, stocked up the boats, and got them ready to be lowered. After that they waited. In this time they asked Olympic about things all around the harbor.
“Well, there’s an ammo Depot in that big octagon bunker there, and there’s the main office-that small shack there, I was to be the quarters and office for all here and any who sailed here. That was where I was tethered to right there, that pier next to the Hipper class. Let’s see, there was a U-boat frame they had floating out there but they scuttled that little thing when they left. There are some quite nasty aircraft guns on me, and there were some over by the depot but those were taken. I’m pretty sure I still have some ammo on me. Uh, let’s see, there was a crane they used but that fell over in a nasty storm. Oh and they also had special hot suits to clean my belly with-oh that was very nice!”
“Then why was there a dry dock?”
“Oh this wasn’t for me at all. It was for one of their super dreadnoughts, I think her name was for Admiral Tirpitz. They told me the poor thing got stuck further south and couldn’t get here. They also said it was much nicer. I knew I should have gone farther south. I was so stupid.” That only created more questions.
“Olympic, you could go farther south?” Titanic asked.
“Yes, after you sank and after the Great War White Star Line fell apart and was bought out by Cunard. Most of the white stars were broken up because of how old they were. But because of my service and what I am-alive-they offered me retirement. I took it. They let me choose where I could go and at the time I was very very upset with people. So I hastily chose isolation and temperatures hostile to people. I came here. After a long while I hated myself for choosing this, as you surely know I went mad all alone. I guess they, Cunard, wrote me off as being broken up.” It was quiet. “It was that madness and loneliness that made me accept the.., the Nazis.., so fast and open.” It was very obvious she was guilty and remorseful. By this time the tide had risen high enough to reach the piers and the parties were launched. Everyone watched eagerly as they rowed across the bay and came alongside the pier, mooring the comparably tiny boats to the pier and climbing over onto the top.
They explored around and did find usable wood, rope, tools, and other gear. After scrounging through the base they assessed the gangways and brows, some were rotted but there were some metal ones that were perfectly fine. They swiftly made their way aboard bringing most of the wood and tools, checking all the lockers, compartments, valves, electrics, and vital systems of Olympic. The climate, hull integrity, and superb building skills kept everything practically brand new. A true testament to time. Olympic was still a oil-fired steam engine ship, and only having a skeleton crew meant that manning an engine system of that size and complexity was nearly impossible-not including the crew for the bridge. They had a plan for this, however, only one boiler would be fired and the steam would be directed to one engine only. The most senior ad experienced navigators and helmsmen were sent aboard Olympic because of this plan. Once the plan had begun it all went to the trash. As it turned out one of Olympic’s post-Titanic refits included arms that could operate her boilers without a crew, so more effort was focused at the engine and rudder engine level. While the engines were heating up the deck hand party went around tearing down all the Nazi banners and flags. For the first time in nearly 80 years Olympic’s belly felt hot and ready, her engines felt pumped and strong, and her smokestacks bellowed with warm smoke. Her smile stretched from port to starboard and barred all her comforting teeth, that mood lifted up everyone else’s moods, too.
Her lines were cast off, she was tied to Eugen for a tow out, and they were off before sunrise. Bradley stood on Titanic’s forecastle with his camera watching his lover turn overjoyed and it in turn spilled over into him. Titanic watched her sister’s slick, long hull glide through the water. The water and ice gleamed with her hull and the lights on her hull like a mirror, majestically gliding through the dark between the ice illuminating the whole passage as if it were a city. She made the whole ice sheet glow and dance, the water sparkled and jumped around, and Titanic could not contain her excitement. She shook Bradley and wrapped him tightly in her arms. It was at this moment, when they were about to leave the corridor onto open water, he realized that neither had ever seen or been around each other on the open water. Only being together in ports.
The sun’s rays stretched across the sky, piercing through the clouds and casting an orange glow on the trio and turned the deep blue water to an almost purple sea with big orange spots on the waves. The two Olympic class liners steamed side by side, their long black hulls flying over the blue and the proud white superstructures gleaming in the light, the tall masts reached high into the sky and the smokestacks stood mighty and high. They sailed proudly and Eugen couldn’t help but watch in amazement at their elegance, beauty, and majesty. They were meant to be the most luxurious, most majestic, most beautiful queens of the sea-and that they were. All eyes were on these two ladies, the sunrise astern and the gleaming ice sheet providing a powerful and moving backdrop for these two distinguished ships. Titanic instantly started talking to Olympic as soon as the euphoria wore off.
“Olympic?”
“Yes, Titanic?” Olympic shifted her eyes port to look at Titanic, her eyes were a deep brown and her voice very similar to Titanic’s.
“Why did you choose to isolate yourself? What happened with people that pushed you to do that?” Olympic sighed and did the little ‘ship nod’ that constitutes looking down and moving lips convincingly.
“Alright, I guess it goes back to when I ran into the Hawke cruiser, I felt so bad about that. Next it was you, when you sank we heard your cries, your CDQ CDQ SOS SOS, we heard it all. Then the silence hurt me, then the news crushed me. That hurt me for a long time. There was a man, however, he was sweet and kind, and I fell in love with him. He was a steward on my crew roster, and we had made much progress together. He was there when they put in my eyes and mouth, my arms, and all those sorts. He was the first person I searched for, first person I held, first person I loved. Then the war started and we were separated while I was turned into a troop ship. One day as I’m loading troops I see one soldier smiling up at me and it was him. I was so happy, I instantly plucked him and all his stuff and moved him where I wanted him, I certainly abused my power to keep him there where I wanted. I kept him with me and we loved and loved every night all night. But he wanted to serve the king, he fought me to get off and fight, he did win because I was threatened by the Navy, and he went off to war. That worried me a lot. But as news came back of the war going well, when I sank a U-boat, and when I went to retrieve his battalion I was filled with excitement, I felt like nothing could go wrong. I scanned each and every face I saw, I memorized everything on everybody that looked like my dear Harry. But none of them were him. I learned later he died of a trenchfoot amputation complication. He died after weeks of pain, discomfort, and misery. And the last time I saw him I was upset with him, I was furious with him. And I felt very guilty about that. And it took me oh, thirty years to get past that. I clung to that guilt, the guilt of loosing my sisters, my lover, and my family. When Cunard bought out White Star, I meant. That is what drove me that far.” There was a moment when Titanic was going to say something when Olympic continued, “His name was Harris J. Pettleton. He was from Partridge. He made me think and wonder, how many boys did I send to their deaths? How many did I ferry to the grave?” Titanic sensed she was going back down a dark path and instantly ended that train ride.
“On a different note, New York is beautiful! London is awesome! And Britannic is in New York right now. Sh-”
“They raised her, too!?”
“Yes! She came out looking for you before I did, she scraped the Ice but her hull held and she’s being fixed up right now. She’s still a medical ship and has gone do disaster relief rallies to treat survivors. She and I and you are probably going to be museum ships, I am already, Britannic works as one when not a medical ship, sometimes she’s paid by the Navy to be used as a training platform for their ocean doctors, practicing surgeries at sea in rough or normal conditions.”
“You think I’m going to be a museum ship, Titanic?”
“Well, Bradley here is part of the company board, so he knows more, maybe even what you’re going to be for sure. Bradley? What’s Olympic going to be?” He Thought and leaned against the railing.
“Well,” he began looking over Olympic’s hull at the rust and wear and deficient properties, “with this paint scheme you might actually be used as a cruise ship to bridge the gap in profits.”
“I’ll be a liner again? What flag will I fly?”
“You’ll fly under the British flag and the White Star pennant. BUT if it’s decided to repaint you, it may be the dazzle scheme and you’ll be a museum ship for World War One, merchant marines, and the likes.”
“Well,” she started a little worried, “If you needed profits, why doesn’t Titanic carry passengers, she’s only ever carried for one voyage. Don’t you think she’d want to fulfill her first purpose?” That did effect Titanic, she does have phases where she begs to carry passengers but Bradley and others remind her of how few she can carry. It is a very somber time frame.
“I don’t have enough boats to carry passengers.” Titanic stated then looked to her deck almost in defeat.
“Right,” Olympic responded, looking at her deck, “so how is it? Being a museum?”
“Not to bad,” Titanic replied scowling as she thought about it, “it does get repetitive and at times mundane and boring, but most often the groups are interesting themselves and are a fun bunch, and I do get a lot of time with my dear Bradley, so I say it’s not too bad. I’ll take the worst days of this than any day on the bottom.”
“What was it like? What happened?”
“The bottom? Lonely, absence of everything, and cold. But it wasn’t that cold! The only times I was really excited and what set me back on track to sanity was subs coming to visit. Interaction again, light itself can be felt if it’s gone for too long. At the end was Bradley, he talked to me and helped me the most. As it turned out I fell for him and to top it off he made me a mother.” Olympic was stunned.
“Wow, uh, congratulations! How long have you been a mother?”
“Violet is seven years old, Britannic’s little one, Tobey, is five years old. They’re wonderful little things!”
“Harry and I were talking about children, we weren’t even sure if it would work out. If it was possible. Now I know.”
“How long did you serve, Olympic?” Prinz Eugen asked, coming alongside.
“Oh I served twenty four years as a liner. Almost five years in service of the Navy. I had carried around two-hundred-and-one thousand soldiers to the war, and when I was retired in thirty-four I had made two-hundred and fifty-seven round trips to New York and the United Kingdom, with four-hundred-and-thirty thousand passengers on my rosters. I was close to two million miles traveled. They got their uses out of me for sure.”
“Impressive, quite a career.”
“I’ve been plagued with problems, though. I’ve had the problem of hitting ships left and right, I only meant it once and I got the bastard, but every other time it was an accident. I sank a lightship and killed half of the crew. There is a lot about me, a lot wrong, or twisted. I don’t know why, either.” They broke off the conversation for a while, that night Titanic brought up something in secret to Olympic that she had noticed.
“Olympic, I noticed you’re very active, do you need someone?” Olympic was shocked.
“Is it that obvious?”
“No, but we’re sisters, we know each other. Trust me, we feel each other.”
“Yes, I am a little lonely.”
“A little?”
“Okay, I’m really lonely. I haven’t been touched since 1915, that’s over a hundred years ago! I need to get stuffed, I can’t stand it!” Titanic giggled a little bit, she knew the feeling, it’s why she talked dirty with Bradley the whole way up. “Are there any.., bachelors on board? Anyone that might help me out?” Titanic laughed aloud.
“There is one person I know who’d love to help you out. He’s going to be at port, Olympic. All you’re going to have to do is talk to him a little bit, then get sexual.” The potential prospect made Olympic wet and grow very excited. “He’s not that bad looking either.” That made Olympic reached for herself and make sure she’d be.., ready to go when they meet. That stayed on her mind the whole journey there, pricked deep, long, with a rod of steel, she thought on it so long she was leaking onto the forecastle deck. She refused to please herself so he’d be even more fun for her, dirty, naughty, sexy fun!

During the days Prinz Eugen, Titanic, and Olympic would share sea stories and share sea stories of some of their crew members. Olympic certianly had the the most to share so that kept them all busy while they were sailing down to Liverpool. When they arrived at Liverpool there was much that had changed for Olympic, she marveled at how busy it was, how modern it had become. She was marveled at herself, everyone had believed that she, the queen of Liverpool, was broken up long ago, but now she sails through the narrows once more and it seemed that everything stopped. It was the exact same when Titanic sailed in after her refloat, like time stood still for all but them. Olympic felt a blast from her glory days back when she was the ship, the ship everyone adored, the ship everyone wanted to sail on. She saw her old slipway and noticed her tugs and tenders were guiding her there, she became very excited and overjoyed to be home again. She was delicately nudged into the slip and aligned with the chalks under her belly and sealed off. The water was drained and she rested on the chalks set up just for her and her small crew was departed and inspectors were launched aboard.
There was lots of rust under and at her waterline, her stabilizing fins were in danger of falling off and her rudder in danger of failing to traverse. Her propellers made of bronze were clean and functional but the fittings for them looked sketchy. The pump ports were also noteworthy as was her keel-line. The Germans had done a superb job of making Olympic seaworthy again but that was way back in 1942-43, it had done it’s job and wore off. Paint below the waterline was no longer red but a pink-grey. Inspections of her electrical systems were problematic for most areas but the vitals ad most of the officer cabins were fully functional and up to the 1940’s standard. The firemain pumps and dewatering pumps were all stopped up and filled with algae and other water life. If there was a leak in Olympic there would be no way to stop it, and if the fuel pumps and tanks weren’t in good condition and started a fire there would be no saving her. Integrity was outstanding, the cold preserved much of anything aboard but the food spoiled regardless and some added deck fixtures had rotted. Overall she was in remarkable condition, in great shape and if you asked her, healthy and ready for some great sex. Titanic was pulled alongside the slip and moored where Britannic had been a few days ago. She was out for trials making sure the repairs were satisfactory. Olympic really wanted to see her, wanted to meet Violet and Tobey, her niece and nephew, she wanted to meet Harold and shake hands with Bradley. She also wanted to meet Patelo but he was gone in a flash, he said his goodbye over the radio and poof, gone into the city before he could be thanked. “I wanted to thank him for finding me.”
“Well, he didn’t find you.” Titanic said.
“Who did? Bradley?”
“No.”
“Britannic? Harold?”
“Neither of them.”
“Then who?” Titanic assured her that she’ll meet them very soon, but in the meantime she’d be meeting the man Titanic promised her. Olympic tried to clean up as much as she could, she snagged some cleaning gear from her lockers and cleaned her port and made sure a man would love to play with her toys. Titanic’s love ports are all in her superstructure, while Britannic was built with her fantail port, one on her hull, and she also had one on her forecastle deck, just ahead of her cargo shoot, and was upgraded with more in her superstructure. Olympic had her fantail fun port and her forecastle fun port. She wanted to watch herself get drilled, she wanted to see herself getting fucked, so she made sure the forecastle port was clean, soaked, tight and soft. She cleaned to her satisfaction and proceeded to pester Titanic about him. Titanic continuously reasured her that he’d be coming. And sometime that evening Titanic introduced him to her.
“Olympic, I want you to meet a close friend of mine and Bradley’s. This is Perry Johnson, from Hampton.”

Fin

Yeah, yeah, it’s been a long time since I’ve done anything, much longer something naughty, but don’t worry it’s on the way!

April 15th, 1912 +105

“Hey Bradley, it’s that time of the year again.” A crewman mentioned to him while they stood on the dock. It was almost 11:30 pm, April 14th. “How’s she doing?” Bradley sighed and glanced over to her, she was staring out into nothingness, unable to see anything and generally unresponsive.
“She gets like this every so often. I tell her ‘hey you know you can tell me anything sweetie, I’m always here for you’ and it helps her. She just.., she just gets real quiet at times.”
“What’s she doing? Do you know?”
“Yeah, yeah I know. She’s reliving it, she relives it for about four hours. About thirty minute before it happens and until thirty minutes after she comes to rest. Everytime she’s following someone else, and she’ll tell me all about them. Sometimes she walks me around in their footsteps. They-uh, they’re very.., eerie. She usually tells me the ones that she felt die inside her, some men killed by the bulkhead door falling on them, some being electrocuted, freezing inside her, imploding people, but one really strikes me. A man so terrified of drowning rushed back to his cabin and hung himself with his bedsheets from the stairs.”
“So, how many has she told you?”
“About fifty or sixty. Some of them reoccur.”
“Is there a, a pattern to them? Are they regular?”
“Nope just, outta the blue. I’ve been eating dinner with her and I’ve been making love with her and all of a sudden-boom. Like the flip of a switch, she’s back entranced.” It were those moments where he really was helpless for her, he could cradle her arms, pipes, cables, or even her vaginal tendril and she’s still left alone. Desperate and despairing with only his coos to remind her it isn’t real. He hated these moments and wished he, too, was a massive entity; massive enough to cradle her hull and hold her tight against him. So she wouldn’t feel alone.
“Sooo, how’s it work? Where do you do?” Bradley glared back at the guy.
“Use your imagination.” He sternly put, it was his way of saying ‘fuck off’. With that he gazed back upon Titanic’s massive side and wanted to hug it all, wrap her up like box and keep her to him. He went aboard to find something of hers to hold tight.

Filed under Gingyflame, Stories · Tagged with ,

Hansel and Marion Ch 50:

Ch 50

“Adler get out of the mud!” Thirty-Four pushed Adler out of the mud and kept him going with the group, he loved playing with mud and ever since they had been offloaded of the train Adler has been stopping in every mud hole to play in. And being in a swamp land that is a lot of mud holes. The Russian tanks were well used to the mud and marsh of swamp so this didn’t faze them as much as it did American tanks and some German, but it was sure getting on Thirty-Four’s nerves. They were the second batch on the train, it was Thirty-Four, Adler, Kramia, Mini-Rommel, Erin, Gretchen, Tiger, Frau and Canine’s remains. There were a lot more tanks lined up back at the port but the train could only haul so much. Thirty-Four was in front with Adler at the head of the tank column, the leading car was Kitty the Puma acting as the navigator. Adler stopped to play with mud and this time Thirty-Four scooped him onto her chest. “Adler you’re going to make me throw out a track. You’re getting too big.”

“I need new belts, mom, they aren’t working.”

“No, you got them changed just before the boat ride, you’re fine. What you need to do is keep going and DON’T play in the mud.”

“Moooom!” He groaned as he shook mud out of his hand. They trekked on and eventually came across tall chain linked fences topped with barbed wire. There was a sign that clearly stated that trespassers would be shot, and that photography was a no-no. “Mama, is this our home?” She looked at the complex, so far it looked more like a prison than a camp.

“I guess so.” She replied, holding him tightly in her arms.

“I zought Amerika vas za home of za free? So much for free.” Gretchen said in her accented English as she gazed upon the gates.

“This is here to keep citizens out, not to keep us in. They don’t want people to learn that life as they knew it was wrong.” The human navigator spoke.

“But vie?”

“They’ll stay calm and quiet not knowing, but if they found out, everyone would go crazy.” The two guards at the gate opened up a path and let them through. There they met with an assistant who led them to certain areas, they passed moderate sized building like warehouses that they figured were for testing and storage. They split off just before the large, circular building that seemed to be the main structure and were split by gender. Adler did stay with Thirty-Four for the time being but Mini and Canine’s remains were split from the mostly female group. As Mini passed one of the open warehouse doors Thirty-Four spotted something that instantly changed her.

In the warehouse was a Tiger tank, first model with the Panzer III turret storage bin on the back of the turret. The whole side was riddled with shot holes and the skirts were all missing, one of the exhaust pipe armored covers was gone, too. Just seeing the tank and its presence moved Thirty-Four. She turned to it and put Adler down, commanding him to stay there. She knew what she was looking at, she knew who she was looking at. Without a doubt. Tears formed at her eyes and her body shook with fear and rage, suddenly she lunged forward blinded by emotion and crashed against his side. Her arms flailed against his side, punching and whacking and clawing and pushing and pulling. The Tiger initially was shocked by this but quickly figured who it was, Thirty-Four’s voice reminded him.

“You son of a bitch! You bastard rat! Coward! How could you do this!? I hate you! Worthless Nazi coward rat bastard! Burn in hell you lousy box! I hate you! I hate you! Why? WHY!?!” She sobbed more with her eyes slammed shut and her entire energy being devoted to throwing herself at him. “TELL ME!”

Devastator silently took it. He let her push and attack at him, it barely did anything to his actual body but he still hurt. He knew he did her wrong, he knows that he’s entirely at fault. He can’t comprehend what pain and suffering she’s gone through. He listens very closely to her, he hears her pain and hate, he feels her anger and emotion, he knows his guilt and his burden. He wants to say sorry so badly but knows it’ll fall on deaf ears. Why should she believe him? She had to provide for herself, she had to survive, she had to give birth, and he hopes that she took care and provided for the child. He knows he can’t ever make it perfect or even right. But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t at least try to help. He continued listening very attentively as she went on about eating her crew, feeling abandoned by the world, her whole life obliterated, the cold and sleepless winter nights and the melting summers. He listened to her tale of eating her own, being a cannibal, hating her body and wishing death to it all. He was listening the whole time as he looked down to the ground in guilt and shame. He had hoped this day would come; the day he returned to her. Then she started asking questions that hit him hard.

“How many others did you rape!? How many others are there!?! Did you even think of us? Did you even care? Did you gloat and boast about us? Were we just campfire stories, bar talks?! Or did you think back and wonder if it’s still just as tight? Is it still hot and wet? Did you care if we were alive or dead?!? Are we just measly sex toys for you to use at your every whim?!” She backed off and looked at him, staring at the ground. “TELL MEEEEE!!!” She shrieked. She threw herself at him again and gripped him, pulling herself to him with screeching metallic groans and shrieks as metal rubbed metal. Dev let her do and say as she pleased, as she wanted, as she so did. He expected this, tried to prepare for this, but all of his fortitude and preparation was shattered by reality. Thirty-Four whispered to him then, “Thank you.” Dev’s eyes widened and went level.

‘What?’ He mouthed, he never expected that. Never. Not once.

“Thank you, he’s all I have to live for.” Her arms were quivering and she was trying to get closer to him. He cautiously reached out with arms to hold her and braced for a burst of hate and bitterness. As he touched her though her body embraced it, as if this was all it needed. “He’s my joy, my friend, my life, he makes me want to wake up every morning, to live each day. Thank you. I never had that before.” Dev turned his turret to face her against his left and pulled her tightly against his side. She was sobbing and crying against his armor. He remembers that day with bitterness, salt and pain. She looked almost the exact same except her green paint was faded, her treads were much more worn and muddy, her gear boxes were warped and equipment was gone, her long saw was covering her shot mark, and there was chipped paint and rust around areas of high movement. He stroked her roof and slipped a hand into hers. He took in a very long and deep breath of air and exhaled a long sigh.

“Panzer thirty-four, I am sorry.” Thirty-Four expected the apology, but like he feared she didn’t believe it, even though she wanted too. It was what he said after that made her believe it. “Yes, I did think about you. I thought about you very much. I was and still am guilt ridden, I knew I did wrong, I knew I ruined you, I never once thought of that as something to be proud of. I hated myself and I made a promise to find you and apologize. I know you won’t believe my sorrows but I feel like I have to do this. I must help sooth your sorrows. I was very much in the wrong and I deserve every insult and every bit of hate you have against me. When others would boast about what they snagged I remembered how wrong I was, how cruel and how you must be suffering. I felt the growing desire to see my child and to raise it, I don’t want a bastard child as there must be so many of now, and I don’t want my child to struggle through their life without a father. I won’t let you suffer any more. I will try to make it right, I will help any way I can. I promise you, on my life, that I will be there when you need me. When my child needs me. Regardless of anything. I will not let you two suffer. You will be taken care of as much as I can do. I will prove that to you. Whatever your name is, if you have a name, I only ask one thing, that one thing is not forgiveness, but to let me help. Let me help raise my child. Let me ease the burden. Please, that is my one and only request.” Thirty-Four had never thought of this, never thought he would ask that, never thought he would want that. She was breath taken and confused, she hated him there but yet was compassionate, she couldn’t explain what she felt for there is no way. No exact way to describe what went through her mind.

“Mama,” Adler asked concerned, “are you ok, mama?” Adler had crept up behind Thirty-Four and was very concerned for her. But he couldn’t help but look at the Tiger tank she was against, he felt something in that tank like he felt in those two German soldiers-but stronger. He felt like a friend with the soldiers but the Tiger, the Tiger made him feel like he was like him, the same way Adler felt with ma but not as strong. Adler wanted to ask who he was, but knew ma would be upset. Just like every other time he asked.

But deep inside Adler wanted to ask, it was a burning desire more powerful than before, he tried to fight it as much as he could because mama wasn’t doing well right now but it demanded to be answered more and more. The question kept crawling and lodging itself in Adler’s throat, again and again he’d swallow hard but it kept coming. It forced its way back. Adler starred to panic, but when he looked into his mother’s eyes for help he saw she needed it more. He saw she needed a push, she needed help with her own question. He saw the anxiety and desire in her eyes so he let his go, he was strong then for his mama. He tipped the balance. “Mama, is this my dad?”

Dev looked up from Thirty-Four and looked at the smaller T-34. It had his own brown eyes but looked exactly like its mother but without tracks or any equipment at all. Dev smiled at it, he looked over the child with a hint of pride and a lot of compassion and love. Adler was looking at Dev but was more scanning over him, Dev wished he was more presentable for his child. “Mama,” he whispered back to Thirty-Four, “it’s beautiful. It looks exactly like you. I’d say you’ve done a great job so far. Please let me help you do the best job, please?” Thirty-Four was looking back at Adler, watching him study over Dev like it’s a new mountain, or a strange tree, or like he did the ship. She heard Dev whisper to her and deep inside it made her feel good. No one has ever complimented Adler or herself like that, Shellproof was the closest to it.

“Adler, this is your father.” Adler wasn’t moved, he figured that by then but just needed assurance. Instead of rushing to greet his father he sat still, instead of asking a million questions that Thirty-Four expected him to do he was silent. She knew he was a smart kid, that he knew they were different. Adler was trying to figure it out himself. He did know that this family of his was different from all the others. He had seen other Tigers and other T-34s scattered among each other where they fell in combat, he had seen the power of war machines. He always silently gazed upon the remnants of the dead and wondered of their final moments. Bodies scorched on and around tanks, soldiers grouped up together in their squads, bits of AT guns scattered around foxholes, he had seen it all and always would silently wonder.

He was doing the same to this Tiger, he noticed the holes on the aft end of the tank, shots at the engine and fuel, but he also noticed there were some shots at a crew that probably wasn’t there. Those shots were pointing in the crew’s compartment, he saw no blood stains or even scorch marks of where ammunition would have gone off. From the amount of kill marks on the Tiger’s gun he knew that the Tiger was no fool, and was probably responsible for mom’s shot wound. There were scorch marks on the turret storage box and the engine deck, he had been set afire, and he saw marks faintly on the turret sides, so he kept fighting after being set afire. Adler now pieced together what he thought happened to him. And he would finally be able to test his theory. “What happened to you? How did you meet this end?” Dev wasn’t expecting that at all.

“What do you mean?” Adler pointed at the various wounds. “Oh, those,” he looked to Thirty-Four for approval, she whispered he’s seen it all and to tell him, “I lost this fight. It was Seelow Heights, we were dug in and waiting for the attack-like we always were, and we had hopes of stopping your push there. We had never felt so surely of victory before, we had hundreds of Panzers, dozens of Tigers, dozens of Panthers, thousands of guns and bombs! We had thousands of eager and determined soldiers, ready to fight to the death. We vowed to stop you there, to end your assault and push you back, and back, and back, all the way back to Moscow! But as you know, and probably saw, we failed. You rolled over us like every other time, there was nothing we could do but buy borrowed time. I was dug into a hill with two guns on each side, three Pak guns and an 88, we overlooked a shallow in the river where tanks and soldiers could cross. In my front were many machine guns and trenches filled with soldiers, ready to cut down any man who stood against them. But instead of men came bombs, then tanks, and more tanks. Panzer 85s barreled across the field and were heading right for us. One gun crew was just as experienced as me, and together we made every shot count. Each time we fired we hit our mark at any range, but sadly for us the other gun crews were too new, they missed again and again, they tried their hardest but they didn’t know what to do. They would miss to the right, they would fall short, they would shoot long. Every so often they would find a mark and kill their target, but then they had to start over with a new target. We couldn’t stop them. Tanks stormed through the river, ran up the hill, ran over our trenches and smashed our guns underneath them. And there was nothing we could do to stop them. The tanks began firing at me while climbing the hill. They missed because they were moving-never fire on the move, it’s bad discipline and a waste of ammunition-but then I felt a hot sting on my side. One had shot me here on my right, then I was hit on my left, and again on my left, and my right, surely if I was full of ammo I would have exploded but all they could shoot were my empty racks. They tried shooting for my crew, but I have never had one, so-”

“They kept shooting your crew room, but when you kept fighting back they shot your engine.”

“Yes, they were panicking then, they dumped a few shots into the dirt, bounced off my deck here, one tank shot the other, but they hit their marks eventually. They pumped shot after shot into my rear, I caught fire all over my back and burned. But I kept fighting, I kept fighting for my brothers, for my homeland, I fought to stop you I turned to shoot here, and there, and over that way and down yonder, but I ran out of ammo, and I ran out of fuel. My engine is now burnt up, it doesn’t run, and my gears are cranky and deformed. I’m very much unusable. And that’s why I’m here. I was captured by a Russian special interest group and when they assessed my damage they deemed me too far gone. They sold me to America in exchange for a curve on their debt.”

“I thought you ran to America like the others did.”

“What?”

“Other Germans, they ran to the Americans to surrender. I got that wrong.”

“Oh.” There was a long silence then. “I felt it was time I stopped running.”

“So why did you run? Why did you run from mom?” Dev took another long sigh, Thirty-Four was still clenching onto him.

“When I met your mother I still took pride in what I did, I was proud of my work and what my job was. I was proud about how well I did my job. So, when I came across and slaughtered her crew and platoon I felt no remorse. I was doing nothing other than killing Germany’s enemies. Yes, I shot your mother, that hole in her chest is from me. I killed her crew and it was just me and her, I was going to kill her but she begged for her life. She begged for her life and I made her do things I shouldn’t have, I wanted my way and I got it, it was wrong what I did and because of what I did you came along. Now you’re not a bad thing, no, you’re rather very smart, you can and will be better than me, but know that what I did was bad. It was very bad. And when I had my fun I left, I went on my way to do my job again. When really my job was supposed to be helping her, and helping you. If she shuns me away from you after now I want you to know this one thing, I’m going to teach you this one lesson now and don’t ever forget it: Do not leave who you want to have your baby. Take your time finding someone you want to become a parent with and you stay with them. Don’t you leave them, don’t you abandon them, and don’t you EVER force it on them. You love them, you care for them, and you stay with them no matter what! Do that and you’ll be a great dad. Better than me.”

“Adler!” Kramia called, “Adler come find your name here!” Adler slowly backed away to go find whatever Kramia called him for as he thought about what he had just been told. After he was gone Thirty-Four spoke up.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Teaching him the one thing I couldn’t.”

“I know you’ve been trying to escape it, but I’m here to make it right.” He went to let her out of his arms but she stopped him.

“No, I need this.” He didn’t understand what she needed but she did; she needed someone to hold her, to make feel like everything’s alright, to make her feel good. And she didn’t care who from. It took some time before Thirty-Four asked him what he was doing here.

“They want to study my body healing.” Now it was his turn to ask a question. “What is your name, Panzer thirty-four?”

“My name?” She didn’t know her name, she was a T-34 tank, she was just called ‘thirty-four’ by everyone. But was that really her name? “I don’t know, everyone just calls me thirty-four. I don’t have a name.”

“How does Vitaliya sound?” That made Thirty-Four feel nice.

“I like that name.”

“Ask your child first.”

“Adler, his name is Adler.” She broke away to park parallel to him and pull herself close to him. They talked from there on, she asked him many questions like where he went, who he met, if there really were other breathers that he killed. She asked him why he cared so much, why he didn’t desert and find them, and what he wants to do with his ‘family.’ And he answered, he answered every question fully, he explained himself, he told her straight, he had no fluff or elaboration. All he had for her were answers. This was able to last until sundown, when Adler got back to them. He saw them so closely together and it made him wonder about Dev, and he didn’t even know his name.

“Father, what’s your name?”

“My name, they named me Devastator, but everyone called me Dev for short. What’s yours?”

“Mom named home Adler.”

“I like that name. Well it’s nice to meet you at last, Adler.” He beckoned him closer to shake hands, Adler never shook hands before and was very new to it. It was almost difficult. “Adler, do you know your mother’s name?”

“Yeah! It’s-!” He suddenly stopped and a look of bewilderment came over him, he didn’t know her name at all. “I don’t think mama has a name.” He was sad and looking to her for an answer.

“I didn’t, but how does Vitaliya sound?” Adler looked very happy. That made her smile wide and blush, the two Russians smiling with glee made Dev happy, and he, too, smiled. Even though his was under his mantle and near impossible to see it was smiling. Then Vitaliya turned on Dev. “How does moving in sound, Dev?” He was completely taken by surprise again.

“Like, moving into the same warehouse? Together?” She nodded, Adler bounced in anticipation with an abundance of excitement.

“You found our house, right Adler?”

“Yes! I did! Oh please, dad, please!?” He begged and begged for an answer that was already a yes and Dev grabbed ahold of Adler and Vitaliya and tucked them tight and snug in his arms, this was the very best moment of his life.

“I love you two.”

Fin Ch 50

 

****BONUS****

“Mama, can you sleep with me?” Adler wouldn’t stay inside his room. He persisted that she stay in the room with him.

“Adler why? Just go to sleep, please?” Vitaliya groaned, she was very tired, Adler was obviously disturbed.

“I’m scared again!” He cried, Vitaliya knew what he was scared of but Dev did not.

“Of what?”

“Hitler! He stomps around on T-34s and he laughs like a gun! I don’t want him to step on me!” Dev moved closer to him and grabbed Adler on his flanks. Chuckling softly at Adler’s childish nightmare.

“Adler, you don’t have to worry about Hitler again, he’s dead now.” That comforted Adler a little bit, Dev continued to belittle Hitler into nothing. “Besides, Hitler was just a little, fat man. About this tall, as tall as you, and he was fleshy! He was fat, fleshy, and short! He was just a crazy, evil man that made other men, real men, fight for him. Don’t fear him anymore. He’s a dead man, smaller than you at his greatest, and worthless at that compared to you. If you ever feel scared of him again, you come out of your room and find me, I’ll be over there awake, just so I can tell you again: Hitler isn’t big or scary, he’s a dead man.” That made Adler feel much more comfortable. “Okay?”

“Okay.” Adler hugged Dev’s bow and murmured to him, “I love you, dad.”

Filed under Gingyflame, Stories · Tagged with , , ,

Hansel and Marion Ch 49: A New World

Hey guys I’m back to HaM! It’s been a very long while since I actually posted HaM so just as a refresher it’s just after the war ended and nearly all the living machines have been sent into France to be rounded up and kept together-except for Marion and her crew.

Enjoy.

Ch 49

Time seemed to blend together after the war. The German army was under control of Allied leadership and mixed units were patrolling and sorting out the various Wehrmacht heer groups and getting them home or redeploying them to other areas. This included Hansel and Marion. They were used at a checkpoint to check IDs, direct traffic, and make sure there were no problems. Then they were tasked with assisting in demilitarizing areas where there had been military buildup and fortification. Afterwards they had been put more towards Berlin along the line that separated the Soviet army and the American army. Tensions were high at this point; American and Soviet generals had been talking about warring with the other for total control; the Soviets wanted to spread their ideals and so did the Americans. With their experiences, many of the Russian deserters chose America over their motherland because of the welcome embrace they received and the much freer lifestyle. While they were not free the machines did at least have some roaming privileges and social time. They also were told what intent America had for them. They were test subjects and specimens of study and further study was to be conducted within the American shores, where it would be much more difficult for Russia to learn of the breathers. It took six months for the negotiations to be fully completed and then another year for everything to be set up and readied for the departure.

The machines negotiated their human spouses to accompany them and to be treated as a married couple, together wherever, but Marion, being an instrument of the American tank core and not a subject of the science department, did not have these negotiating privileges. At the end of the war Marion’s crew only consisted of herself, Hansel, and Meats. After the war, they stayed together until the following November, where Meats was let go from active service and he was given passport home in Frankfurt. It was a long and seldom goodbye between the three of them. After that it was just Hansel and Marion sitting in their hull down foxhole. They were prepared for a Russian assault along with about two-hundred and fifty other soldiers and ten tanks and bunches of AT guns and mortars. The machine folk were all heartbroken when General Patton died, and especially his old third army. It was an American tragedy that he died; a hero to his country, much like his esteemed German counterpart Field Marshal Erwin Rommel. While Hansel and Marion were still together and grateful that they survived the war they were undecided on the outcome. They were happy the war was over and that their friends were alive but at the same time they lost, their country was in shambles, and the genocide that their leaders started had blackened the image of their proud home.

Hansel couldn’t see himself living in a divided country, where one half wanted to invade the other to ‘liberate and unify’ the other. He loved his home and his family, loved his country, but couldn’t stand to see what a divided future would lead his beloved country to. Hansel grew more narcissistic by the month and this made Marion upset, she couldn’t stand to see him so negative and bleak about the future. She took matters into her own hands and wrote to the command requesting a different deployment in some other country. Perhaps a station in France to help rebuild or a convoy escort in Belgium, she didn’t care. Repeatedly she was denied by the command until one of the commanders griped to her old American Major.

He arranged her and Hansel to get some “R ‘n’ R” in northern France, just south of Juno beach. This helped Hansel’s state and he started to be more lively and optimistic. He had always shown compassion and relief towards Marion but not to others or in a general mood until France. He would frequently think back to the things he did during the war, things he was not too proud of. He took the lives of his enemies with a certain grain of salt when it happened but he didn’t allow it to change him; as he knew they wouldn’t hesitate to end his life. But their lives still seemed to plague him, and only Marion seemed to assuage these demons completely. She forbade him from drinking, and he had long decreed to never smoke, so Marion was his only relief. And he was her only relief.

They spent another whole year in France and again and again they’d wake the other in a fit of nightmares, or cry to the other, or suddenly start spilling their guts about regret and death. Hansel’s father had told him stories of “Shell Shock” and rumors of what causes it, Hansel denied having it for he was physically perfect. But every now and then his mind would linger and he’d swear he had gotten it, he was unlucky and damned enough to have Shell Shock. Marion thought the two of them had guilty conscious and that they only needed to let it out and help each other. They were both correct, they suffered from PTSD but only mildly, their lives were not dictated or wrecked by the war, but it followed them. They quickly found ways to help the other cope, and they stood by each other when the other needed help. Sometime in May, 1947, they applied for passports to America with help from Major Cahrmicheal and obtained them with Hansel’s connection to Joshua. Major Cahrmicheal set them up with a place in central Florida, somewhat near where the other machines had been sent.

The breathers agreed they didn’t want to deal with the ‘winter wrath’ where rapid temperature drop weakened their bodies. But with the desert not being a great place for big engines and complex mechanics, the second option of marsh was picked. While the land of south east America varied, it was sustainable for tracked vehicles. The vehicles were concentrated around a central hub area where tests could be conducted and the lab could be set up. All around it were plots of land with huge garages, the plots varied from 5 acres to 18 acres based on the vehicle’s size and abnormality from most road vehicles. They generally had about a two or three-mile drive to the hub, but Marion’s drive would be about twenty. There was an Army Air Core facility twenty-two miles from the hub that had fenced off twenty plus acres of land with a hard-packed concrete runway and a heavily reinforced hanger floor with sturdy and reenforced walls and ceilings for the hanger. It almost looked more like an armored warehouse. Adjacent and attached to the hanger was a two-story house that the members used. It was properly furnished, plumbed, and accommodated, but it was very bland. Once they had learned of their new home Hansel and Marion gathered addresses from their friends still in Germany and France, and spent some time with them before moving to the port that Peiper was targeting in the Ardennes offensive, the one where Marion changed sides. They were excited, very excited! New people, new life, new opportunities, America! The land of dreams! Because they were not a part of the science department Hansel and Marion had complete freedom, they were moving to America as veterans and as German civilians. Hansel packed Marion full of clothes, tools, knickknacks, memorabilia, books, some house utensils, and anything else they could fit and wanted. Hansel also was given permission to bring his car over, he was absolutely amazed at how pristine and perfect his car was when his old home wasn’t. It had only been in an alley a house down in a backlot the whole war, and now he had the chance to drive it more than across the neighborhood. It was a first model Adler 6 standard with the engine and transmission of the 1934 Adler 6 standard with four gears, he sold the old engine and transmission to a guy that wanted to make his own car and used that money as well as money from selling other useless trinkets to get the engine. He named his car Ava and kept it clean, shiny, and running. The body was a dark oak brown with a yellow-gold trim and white highlights. The interior was a lavish green with leather seats and balsa wood interior painted to look like Cherrywood. The gearshift knob was a bright red with a white band that connected to the long black shaft. As he drove his car back to Marion, it filled with his possessions, he looked back to when he was fixing up the car. He had dreams of taking all the pretty girls to the fields he crop dusted and showing them the land, or taking his lovely honey down to the river in the moonlight to spend the night. He dreamed of driving far off and seeing the world in this car.

And then war broke out.

Hansel eventually got back to Marion and showed her the car he built. A few days later their ship arrived, a merchant ship that made hundreds of voyages to Britain and America during the war, still painted in its blue, grey, and black stripes in a “dazzle” pattern. This is when Marion discovered her greatest fear; a fear more crippling than airplanes, more crippling than artillery: heights. She was lifted using four of her towing eyes and the whole time she was groaning, trembling, shivering, and nearly shrieking in fear. What’s worse is Hansel had to watch it all and could do nothing but try to yell over the machinery to calm her down. No matter how he yelled it was not soothing. One of the merchants said that it was normal for heavy machines that spend their lives latched onto the ground to have a fear of not being latched to the ground. He said every tank that he shipped did it. Marion’s eyes were clenched shut and she was trying to think of happier things, like the fun they had with Cindy, Whacker’s wise cracks, Hansel, a peaceful home. And before she knew it she felt pressure under her treads, she had been lowered into the ship’s belly. She took deep breaths and calmed down as sailors unhitched the cables from her eyes. Next, they loaded on the car and that’s when Hansel boarded the ship. He spent time with Marion and when the ship was towed and sent out to sea he stood on the deck and watched Europe disappear. He wondered if he’d ever see Europe again, if he’d ever have its soil beneath his feet, if he’d ever get to bring Marion with him if he could, it was very emotional for him. He watched the shoreline fade away, the cliffs and tall lighthouses fade away into the fog, shrink into the horizon, and soon all around was nothing but the choppy North Atlantic.

He thought of Rudolph then, he remembered going to Rudolph’s family back in Munich while getting his car. Rudolph was not picked up by the British. Rudolph was M.I.A./K.I.A. with his ship, the Bismarck. Hansel plucked a yellow flower that day from Rudolph’s garden and the family wrote prayers to him on a streamer tied around the stem. Hansel had that flower and tossed it into the waves, watching it slosh around and slowly disappear to the waves to be swallowed and welcomed by the Atlantic; just as his friend was. He started to cry then as he backed away from the rail and slumped against the wall sobbing, he remembered their last day together and just let it repeat in front of him again and again. Then he wondered what Rudolph’s last glimpse of Europe was, if it was as miserable and foggy as his own, or cheery, bright, and prideful. Hansel talked to himself as if he was talking to Rudolph again, he began spitting stories of basic training, then how it was training with the tanks. He spurred on about Russia and being wounded, then officer school and eventually how machines were alive. He talked about Marion, and Cindy, and Anton and Faust, about how his family was and how Munich was, he said the bar was still standing and recommended they go catch up more there. That was when he looked up from his lap out into the grey-blue world wholly believing that Rudolph was right there in front of him. It was a very harsh reality check. He completely let go and bawled his eyes out, cradling his legs against his chest. A senior sailor was passing by when he noticed Hansel’s distress.

“Was wrong, lad? Was got ye so teary?” It took Hansel some time to figure out what the heavy accent asked.

“Loss.” Hansel eventually spit out after much effort.

“Loss o yer home?”

“My friend.” The sailor bent over and sat next to Hansel, gripping Hansel’s shoulder with a rough leathery hand.

“How’d he die, son?”

“His ship,” e spat, “sank, not picked up.”

“Now hear me here, I been on six ships in this war alone, an tree in the last, all sank, ye hear? They all sank but I’m here ain’t I? Lady Luck has a weird way of working her magic, yer friend may be alive out there. He might be on a raft fishin’ right now o’ees tryna get home. What I learn’d is to trust yer gut, so son whatchyer gut say?” Hansel hesitated.

“I don’t know.”

“Keep yer head up son, till they give ye a body he ain’t dead.” That gave Hansel enough strength to pick his head up and say thank you, get back down to Marion, and vent the rest to her.

The voyage was uninteresting, nearly a week long of Hansel staying with Marion, sleeping on her, or in his car, getting chow and sharing some morsels with Marion, daydream about their future lives, and try their best to not get sick. Once their voyage had passed and Marion struggled through another crane lifting her up and on to a train they were good to go. Hansel had to drive his car shadowing the train from a port in Georgia down south to the middle of bumfuck nowhere across the way from the quiet little town of mapless journey. Hansel found out that the train station they arrived at was founded nearly a hundred year ago-and it still looked like absolutely fuck-all lived here. Still, this is where they were going to live and so Hansel led Marion down a dirt road, then another, and another, and another, until the tall barbed wire fence with a sign painted, in German, “Welcome breather!” was in front of them. Waiting for them was a man from the science lab twenty miles away to let them in, show them around, and the next day take them to the lab as requested by both Marion and the test subjects. They had just unpacked Marion when they were led up to the lab, they were very excited to reunite with all their old friends. Marion did see some trouble moving through the marsh but her low foot pressure made sure she didn’t sink deep into the marsh. She eventually pushed her way through the marshes and made the long journey to the lab. The gates were tall and the fences were barbed, with many reasons to keep people out and away from the fact that metal lived, but once they were inside the daunting facade was just that and the complex was very friendly.

Staff members were very friendly and had taken to the machines as people, but just like people they had stereotypes. None of the staff would dare say what they say around the machines or their human spouses in fear but they’d gossip to each other. Of course, the human spouses knew that there’d be a new form of racism, technically specism, but they did not let their loved ones know or let it get to them. The staff would judge the machines for their spouses, stereotype that they breed like rabbits, their only use is sex and murder, they are stupid and gullible. Easily used. Of course, most of it was not true, they were conceived and produced to be superb killing machines of war but they were smart, loved one another like family, and were finding new uses in a world without war. But the staff didn’t know that, or care for that, they did as people do and stereotype. Some of the soldiers that worked and served by them were appointed to the lab as guards and once they got wind of the talk they were furious. They had learned to love the machines, saw them as life savers and heroes, saw them as friends-brothers and sisters more like it, and despised the staff. The guards were the first to tell Hansel about the staff’s stereotypes. That didn’t matter to Hansel as he and Marion saw an unknown Tiger that looked like Swiss cheese.

Fin Ch 49

Feel free to ask any questions in the comments, also many parts of this chapter are purposefully rushed and sort of empty to convey just how blurred and meaningless the time was for the pair.

Filed under Gingyflame, Stories · Tagged with , , , ,