Shut up!
Seriously, shut your mouth.
I can hear you laughing from here. I see you reading the title of this chapter, and I see that stupid smirk on your face. You think this is funny? You think saving the universe is a joke?
Okay, fine. It is a little funny.
But stop laughing!
Ranyan is dead on the floor! My big brother, the Inquor, the hero with the golden... well, everything is lying there like a broken toy. And here I am, about to do something so giga-giga crazy that it will either save us all or get me grounded for the next three centuries.
So show some respect! Sit down, spread your legs... umm... I mean, open your ears, and listen. Because I am Arala. I am Private.
And today, I am the King.
King Ranyan!
Or at least, I am pretending to be.
We are still in the ruined dining hall of the Quarso Estate. The air smells like burnt duck, ozone, and the metallic tang of drying blood. It is quiet, except for the low hum of the portable generator Prof set up and the frantic beating of my own heart against my ribs.
Dogun-dogun so... dogun-dogun...
Everyone is looking at me.
Vice is on her knees next to Ranyan's body. She looks wrecked. Her hair is a mess, her eyes are swollen, and she is staring at me with a mix of desperation and pure, unadulterated horror.
Prof is standing by the console, her hands shaking as she calibrates the flow rate of the serum.
And Papa?
Oh, Papa.
Liquida Quarso, the Supreme Commander of Earth Defense, the man who can eat tanks for breakfast, is standing in the corner.
He is looking at me. Then he looks at the object in my hand. Then he looks at the ceiling.
He sighs...
It is a long, heavy sigh that seems to carry the weight of every bad decision he has ever made. He lifts his massive hand and massages his temples, rubbing the bridge of his nose like he has a migraine the size of Jupiter.
"I should have pulled out," I hear him mutter under his breath. "Sixteen years ago. I should have just... gone to sleep."
"Hey!" I shout, adjusting the leather harness around my hips. "Focus, Papa! I am saving your son... my brother!"
"You are wearing a strap-on, child," he groans, refusing to look at me directly. "In the middle of my dining room. While holding a phallic replica of my son. There is no protocol for this. There is no God for this."
"God left the chat ages ago, Papa," I declare, tightening the buckle until it pinches my skin. "Now, there is only The Stick."
I look down at it.
The Stick...
Prof's masterpiece.
The silicone copy of Ranyan. It is usually just pink and realistic, but now? Now it is glowing. The reservoir inside is filled with the Mugururu serum. It pulses with a deep, angry red light, like a lightsaber made of blood and Viagra.
It looks dangerous. It looks powerful.
It looks very... very... giga-giga.
I walk toward Vice. My boots crunch on the broken porcelain of the dinner plates. I try to walk like Ranyan. I puff out my chest. I swing my shoulders. I try to make my face look brooding and sexy, instead of cute and hungry.
"Vice," I say. I try to lower my voice. I try to sound like gravel and honey. "Get ready. The King is here."
Vice looks up at me. She blinks. For a second, she looks like she wants to vomit. But then, she looks at Ranyan's pale face. She looks at his still chest.
She hardens. The Ice Queen cracks, but underneath is steel.
"Okay, Private," she whispers. "Make me believe it."
"I am not Private," I growled, standing over her. "I am Ranyan. And I need a recharge."
I stepped between her legs.
This is it.
The Tickling Clock needs submission. It needs fear. It needs her to give up control completely.
And usually...
Ranyan does that by being big and strong and commanding.
I am... well, I am me. I am small. I smell like pineapple pudding.
But I have the blood. And I have the serum.
"On your back, Iya," I commanded.
Vice hesitates for a microsecond. Then, she lies back on the floor, spreading her limbs among the debris. She closes her eyes tight.
"Do it," she breathes. "Do it, Priv... Ragia."
I kneel down. The harness feels heavy on my hips. The bio-feedback sensors Prof installed are humming against my purupin.
It feels weird.
Like a phantom limb. I can feel the heat of the Stick as if it were a part of me.
I position the tip at her entrance.
She is wet. Despite the grief, despite the terror, her body remembers. She smells like arousal and tears.
"Open!" I say.
Not asking. Telling.
I push forward.
"Ah!" Vice gasps, her back arching off the floor.
It slides in.
It is tight. Gusa-gusa tight. I can feel the resistance, the friction. The feedback loop hits my brain instantly.
Oh my God...
Is this what Ranyan feels? Is this what it feels like to be inside her?
You know... balalaika!
It's so... balalaika!
It is warm. It is soft. It grips me... well, the toy, like a wet velvet glove. My own purupin twitches in sympathy, a jolt of pleasure shooting up my spine that makes my toes curl.
"Deeper," Vice moans, turning her head to the side. "Fill me up, Ragia. Don't stop."
She is pretending. She is forcing her brain to rewrite reality. She is imagining I am him.
So I have to be him.
I start to move.
Clak-clak.
It isn't a smooth rhythm.
I am clumsy.
I am shorter than him. My hips don't have the same leverage. I am basically humping her thigh while the toy does the work.
But I am trying!
I am thrusting with all the fury of a Quarso!
"Take it!" I yell, trying to sound dominant. "Take the... uh... the big King energy! Be a good girl! Be my... time-witch!"
I hear a snort from the corner.
I glance over.
Chef is biting her knuckle. Her face is red. She is shaking. She is looking at Navi, who has both hands clamped over her mouth to stop from exploding.
"It looks..." Chef whispers, her voice trembling with suppressed laughter. "It looks like Vice is having sex with a retarded version of Capt. A mini, female, pudding-eating Capt."
"She's trying so hard," Navi squeaks, tears of mirth leaking from her eyes. "Look at her face! She looks like a constipated squirrel trying to crack a nut!"
"Shhh!" Mommy hisses, though I can see the corner of her mouth twitching. She is holding Xecta, hiding Xecta's face in her chest so the poor medic doesn't see the desecration of her Ranyan's image.
"It is serious! It is a ritual!"
"It is a comedy sketch," Chef wheezes. "But if it works... I'll cook the hat. I'll cook my own hat and eat it."
I ignore them. I ignore the laughter. I ignore the absurdity.
I focus on Vice.
She isn't laughing.
She is crying.
"Ragia..." she sobs, her hands reaching up to grip my arms. Her nails dig into my skin. "Please... don't leave me. I'll be good. I'll submit. I'll do whatever you want. Just stay."
Her vulnerability hits me like a slap.
This is the Felt...
This is the Tickling Clock activating. She is terrified of losing time, so she is begging for it. She is surrendering her control to the one person she trusts to hold it.
And right now, that person is me.
I lean down.
I press my small body against hers. I grind the base of the harness against her clitoris. The serum inside the toy is heating up. I can feel it pulsing.
"I am here, Iya," I whisper in her ear. I try to mimic his cadence. "I am right here. I am inside you. I am burning in your veins."
I reach down to the base of the toy and press the release trigger.
The injection starts...
The Mugururu serum shoots out of the toy and sprays directly into her purupin.
Vice screams.
It isn't pain.
It was a shock. It is raw energy flooding her system. Her eyes fly open.
But they aren't looking at me. They are looking through me. Her pupils are blown wide.
"It burns!" she wails. "Ragia! It's too much! It's too hot!"
"Take it!" I roar.
I thrust harder...
Faster...
And suba-suba!
My own body is on fire. The pheromones Prof talked about... the Quarso genetic resonance, are flooding the air. I smell like him. I taste like him.
"You are mine!" I shout, slapping her thigh. "You belong to the King! Now fix it! Fix the time! Use the Clock!"
Vice arches her back so hard only her head and heels are touching the floor. Her body is convulsing around the toy. She is milking it. She is milking me .
My own purupin is throbbing so hard it hurts. I am close.
You know, like... I am going to squirt just from the feedback.
"Activate!" I scream. "Tickling Clock!"
Vice gasps.
The air around us starts to shimmer. It gets heavy. Thick.
Like moving through jelly.
The dust motes in the air stop dancing. The sound of Chef's giggling warps into a slow, deep groan.
Vice looks at me. Her eyes are glowing. Not gold. But a deep, time-warped blue.
She sees me, but she sees him.
"Yes, Captain," she whispers.
She lifts her hand.
Her fingers are trembling. Sparks of blue energy are jumping from her skin. The serum has worked. The feedback loop is complete. She is fully charged. She is overflowing.
She looks at Ranyan's body.
"Time," she commands. "Stop."
And then...
She snaps her fingers.
It isn't a loud sound. It is a deafening silence.
The world turns negative. The colors invert. The red of the serum turns cyan. The darkness of the room turns blinding white.
And then...
Everything goes dark.
Complete, absolute, void-like darkness.
I can't feel the floor. I can't feel the harness. I can't feel Vice.
I am floating.
Did we do it?
Did I save him?
Or did I... The King... yeah... your Dim-witted King like what the title said... just break the universe?
I guess we'll find out when the lights come back on.
If they ever do...