Beltane, year 761, on the Outside

It was hot, humid and dark. The room had to be large, but the way it was lit, nobody could have been able to tell excatly how far the alcoves and booths stretched. The room had four sides, and there were were stages on two opposite walls, both of which featured two shining metal poles and a backdrop of mirrors, connected by a lower catwalk plaftform that ran across what was a central disco dance floor. Bright lights pierced the thick layer of smoke that filled the air – smoke that was flavoured with a number of scents. Tobacco was the least interesting of them.

On the third wall was the bar. No matter what it was, or where it came from, if it was designed to inflame or intoxicate, you could get it at that bar. Some of it was drunk, some of it was chewed, some snorted, some injected. All of it could be bought, for the right price.

The fourth wall had the VIP suites – areas that were separate from the main throng, raised up so that the crowd did not impede the special guests view of the stage areas. The central of the five suites was the owner’s enclosure. That was where he held court, attended by those closest to him in an organisation that reached all the darkest corners of every realm in either continuum.

Tonight there were guests at the owner’s encosure. The man, appearing middle aged with shorter cut red hair, was wearing sunglasses despite the fact that outside the area of the bar and the stages, you would have to work hard to see a hand in front of your face. The woman was more of a mystery, dressed in a black cheerleader outfit, her face and head were mostly hidden by an elaborate mask. About the only things you could tell for sure, was that her eyebrows and eyelashes were dark, her skin was white and her lipstick was a deep crimson.

“So – to what do we owe the pleasure?” asked the owner, as his secretary handed tall cocktail glasses that bubbled and fumed to the two guests. “And why here? What was wrong with Blackhall?”

“Too many twitching ears at Blackhall, listening to other people’s business. Wonderful place, in principle, and I applaud the effort. I will defnitely be a regular there. But tonight is business.”

“And what business would that be then?” asked the owner, as the beat from the disco music thrashed through the room, flashing lights punctuating the pulse that you could both feel as well as hear.

“I would like to buy a one of those things that lets me see past, present and future.” said the guest.

“Would you now? Would you really. And you assume I have one that I would be willing to sell you?”

“I know you have one. And I know that by your own code and rules, which you have spoken to all and sundry on numerous occasions, you reserve the right to sell anything, no matter what, to anybody who wishes to buy it and is willing to pay the price.”

“I don’t believe you can pay the price.” replied the owner.

“Well – I certainly aren’t going to be able to pay the price if you don’t tell me what it is.”

“If you want to discuss that kind of business, then you need to show good faith. Put your slut into tonight’s tournament.”

“That’s my daughter son. She’s nobody’s slut.”

“Oh, come on Daddy – everybody knows I’d do anything for you.” said the masked girl. “What would I need to do in your tournament, brother?”

“Tonight is a combat drinking contest. Female competitors will be naked except for tight white bikini panties, and they get strapped into heavy boxing gloves. Then in each round of the competition, each girl has to down a pint of beer in under a minute, with a randomly drawn pill of peril dropped into it. Then they each draw out one of the other surviving opponents from a lottery, and they get to land one full on gut shot punch on that girl. If as a result of that punch or at any other time during the competition a girl manages to lose bladder control, she has to immediately drink one extra perilous pint. If she loses bowel control she has to immediately drink 2 extra perilous pints, and whenever a girl pukes, she is eliminated. All belly piercings to be removed prior to the first round, to prevent the hits causing an actual wound. That’s pretty much it – keep on drinking, keep on punching, and once you hurl, you’re out.”

“I assume the pills of peril are meant to mix things up a bit?” she asked.

“Indeed, my dear. The pill pot has a number of variable time release super-emetics equal to the number of competitors, three times that number of variable time release fast action super-laxatives, and the rest of the pot is filled with fast acting super diuretics – about ten times the number of other pills. If the girls weren’t drinking so much fluid, they’d be major danger of dehydrating themselves with those pills. The drugs are all designed to work on shapeshifters too. Oh – and the beer is actually Chaos ale, so by about the 5th pint, a normal female body mass should be suffering some major reactions to drinking that much booze, even if they are a shapeshifter. Strong stomach muscles and a strong punch will be the route to the prize.”

“Glamourous topless women, a catfighting competition, some seriously messy humiliation for the losers, and everybody probably getting at least a little bit dirty. I’m quite impressed. It almost sounds like something one of my school boards would have come up with for picking the head cheerleader or the homecoming queen.” replied the guest.

“And the prize?” asked the maked girl.

“Tell you what – let’s make it a proper gamble. You go in, and my secretary goes in, and if you do better than her then I will give your father a free look through my crystal ball. But if she bests you, then you are mine to do with as I wish for one month, and your father has to buy his looking glass for a price yet to be named.”

“So – basically, you want me to go out there half naked in front of your crowd, drink lots of beer and punch your secretary in the gut so that she tosses her cookies before she can make me do the same?” she asks.

“In a nutshell, my dear. Exactly.”

“You don’t have to do it, daughter.” says the guest. “I will pay the price.”

“On the contrary – the challenge has been made. I do have to do it. I cannot have it said that I was chicken. Besides – why should we pay out resources when we don’t have to?”

“Bravo!” says the owner. “Why don’t you girls go see the ringmaster and get changed into your sparkling clean white bikini bottoms while us chaps have a nice little chat?”


“I was quite worried for a while there.” said the man. “Every hit had my daughter rolling on the floor in agony.”

“Sure did. Those handmaidens are really strong. I pretty much resigned myself to being hurt like hell and having to wait until she was too drunk to be able to concentrate properly. I also realised that I had to get a good through flow going to stop that stuff building up in my stomach, otherwise I had no chance of not hurling. So – I was pretty much drinking at least twice as much as her after the first couple of rounds – I could cope with having wet panties if it meant I was able to beat the bitch.” added his daughter.

“And – did you win?” said the Egyptian looking woman with the glowing eyes, reclining on a throne.

“I think I must have done. I don’t think it had occurred to them that I might be able to delay the alcoholic effects for a bit. Once I’d beaten her though, I had to relax and let it all hit me, and I just carried on to try and see how much further I could get in the contest. When I woke up, I was in a seriously bad way with a hangover, laid on a waterproof bed where i had obviously sucombed to all the expected effects of the beer, and when I saw the state I was in it made me start exploding all over again. But once I got some sort of control of myself again, I did see that there was a chest full of money by the side of the bed.” said the daughter, with a smile.

“A most interesting tale.” said the Egyptian looking woman. “But that doesn’t explain why you are now here talking to me. Or indeed how you found me at all.”

“While my daughter was recovering her equilibrium, I was partaking of the time with the prize that she had won for me.” said the man. “That time told me of the recent misfortunes that your children had suffered, and suggested to me that there was an opportunity here for us to help each other. We can work together, share resources, and we will both reap the rewards. You will get what you now need, and I will get what I need.”

“And what is it that I apparently need?” asked the Egyptian looking woman.

“What you need most, is hosts for your children that are worthy of them.” replied the man. “And also – perhaps it would be nice if some of the ones that are currently in the hands of unfriendly forces were to be brought back to the bosom of their family. Family is, after all, the most important thing.”

“Family is our blessing and our curse.” said the woman. “We are at our strongest when we turn to each other as the first mother instituted in the first time, but when such couplings go bad, they go worst of all. My three greatest children were pulled apart by jealousy, and managed to self destruct by seeking vengeance against each other for the acts that the jealousy sposored.”

“Perhaps then, you don’t want all of them back.” he asked

“Perhaps, you and I could make some new children, that would be even more worthy of these hosts of which you speak?” she said, as a wave of pheremones filled the room, overpowering all his defences.

“Nice try, darling.” was the last thing the man said as the civilised veneer was swept away from him. Ripping off both his clothes and hers, he threw himself on the Egyptian woman, rutting within her like a beast of the fields. His daughter too with her unique biology was also affected, and bringing forth that unique appendage that made her so very special, she dived on to the copulating couple, grappling until she could find an Egyptian orifice that she could also fill.


“Like I said, nice try.” said the man. Several hours had passed, and they were now relaxing in a pool of steaming water, as young female attendants washed and massaged their aching bodies. “Pity that it was for nought. My seed is not quite so easily spread to the four winds, and my daughter has been without seed entirely since she was ill recently. Tricks like that might have caused a lesser man to distrust your good intentions.”

“My kind have always taken from men as we needed and as we wished, and left the men very happy to have provided.” the Egyptian woman replied, as she stretched. “How was I to know?”

“Well – call it a learning experience then.” he said, snidely. “Perhaps we can now get back to discussing how we can help each other, rather than helping oursleves?”

“So – what do you propose?” she asks.

“I will liberate your male children from their current incarceration, and provide two suitable hosts for them. I will then return them here to your realm. In return, I require one of your lesser offspring to provide me with their services for 10 years of their own life, along with their ships and minions, and I require your agreement that any other of your children that should freely chose to serve me be allowed to also do so, along with their ships and minions, for as long as they continue to freely wish to.”

“So – I get my boys back, in return for one lesser child and some hardware, and I have to agree to let all the rest of my children do whatever they wish for as long as they wish?” said the Egyptian woman. “You obviously don’t know us very well – that is pretty much business as usual around here. You’re on.”