[Episode 121439] [Episode 121439]When the what-ever-it-was dragged Lord Tenchi through the wall, Arisa went into action.
Well, first she and Kyoko had to spend some time prying the dresser away from the wall so they could open the door. Tenchi had been very enthusiastic when he had wedged it in place.
But then Arisa went into action, dashing naked through the halls to carry out her duties as a slave. Step one: check on Master. She liked Tenchi but Master was Master and so his safety was her first priority. She found the scholar of paranormal perversions in the library, happily tossing scrolls around in his search for Yosho-related material. She left him there, as it was probably for the best to keep him out of things for now. Kyoko continued to trail behind her as she moved on to step two: check on Tenchi. When she heard the first explosion from the garden area she put that task on hold and slotted a new task into step three: go for her armor.
Arisa and Kyoko bore Natsume Kyusaku’s brand, but it was his wife Akiko who had selected them for their ability to deal with Master’s inhuman guests. Most of the time, Master summoned friendly and reasonable sorts who just needed a good hostess or two in order to make them feel welcome. Of those that were more unruly, it was amazing how most would settle down with a little unusual sex involving unusual anatomies. Let them spray their alien spunk into (or over) a pretty girl a couple of times and they became mellow enough to talk business rather than shout about souls and blood and the rest of the “Dark Lord” dialog that type was fond of. Then there were the ones that required forceful restraint. For them, Mistress Akiko had gone to her grandfather, who was, in his own way, as odd as her husband.
Grandfather Mishima, however, worked with automatons, and had crafted armor for his granddaughter’s minions. Not just armor, but golem armor with monstrous strength and weaponry crafted to bind, or at least slow down, anything short of a minor planar lord. They had originally been equipped with more destructive armaments, but representatives of the city council and police force had been by to have a little talk with the Natsume household after the first field use of those armaments. The monsters that sometimes emerged from the manor were usually more entertaining than dangerous and in light of the public services Kyusaku the Conjurer provided, they could be tolerated. In fact, the houses around Natsume manor had been bought up by people who seemed to view invasions from beyond as a sort of performance art, especially if tentacles were involved. These neighbors, and the authorities, had not felt the same way about Arisa equipped with a lightning-discharge crystal and a flaming battle-axe.
Sprinting across the ground between the main house and the stables, the two slaves did not have a clear line of sight to the garden, but they could see flashes of red light and malevolent laughter accompanying the explosions from that area. In her frantic desire to get in on a good fight help, Arisa had trouble opening the pedestrian door to the stables until a slower but calmer Kyoko caught up and provided assistance. Kyusaku had once kept pony girls, not human slaves in harness but actual centaur fillies, in the stables. Once Nuku Nuku had proven capable of pulling loads heavier and faster than even those dappled damsels, they had been presented with some nice parting gifts and sent back to the mystic lands Master had pulled them from. Now the structure housed the family carriage, which had been refitted for Nuku Nuku power with heavy shocks and five-point safety belts. It was also the resting-place of the combat armor.
Arisa loved her armor. It made her big and strong and able to keep up with a certain pink-furred attention hog. Its physical design presented the striking image of a 10-ft tall armored female warrior with broad shoulders and large endowments. Arisa had gone further by painting it red and then adding images of succubae and other beautiful but inhuman beings, appearing to be bound with golden chains to the armor’s body. The figure on the abdomen, hanging by its ankles from the painted nipple-chains, bore a striking resemblance to a bouncy bakeneko of her acquaintance. The more subdued and submissive Kyoko had gone with deep blue and silver chains that appeared to bind the armor itself rather than bind anything to it. Both armors were kneeling in the classic slave position (knees spread, hands on thighs) and waiting for them.
Golems are artificial constructs powered by a spirit bound within. Their most common limitation is a lack of intelligence on the part of the spirit, and the bindings on the spirit often further limit its ability to use its imagination or act without direct orders. Very advanced golems may have more intelligent spirits with subtle bindings, allowing them to act as people in their own right, but such creations are the masterworks of master crafters. Golem armor gets around these limitations by using a spirit as the power source in the standard manner, but also incorporating measures that allow a wearer to effectively become a second, dominant spirit, using the power of the first and its artificial body as if they were the wearer’s body.
Releasing the hidden catches and some vigorous tugging and straining made the chest plates of these armored warriors fold down into ramps across their knees. Inside was something that looked much like a spine and a ribcage, but with the individual ribs splayed outward. As Arisa started to climb inside, Kyoko made an observation, “The explosions have stopped.” Arisa listened as well but did not stop to do so. The cessation of explosions was not necessarily a good sign. The control-seat for her armor was a “U” shaped narrow saddle jutting out from the spine low in the “ribcage”. Facing away from the spine and holding onto the upper ribs, she drew up her legs so her heels touched her bottom, and nestled herself into the curve of that saddle. She hissed between her teeth, as the padding inside the U was as cold as the metal under it and it pressed against her lips and the cleft of her butt. Keeping her knees pointed down and her legs folded, she was able to swing the lower “ribs” into place, where they locked together around her legs and the padded inner surface gripped her bare skin.
Next came the tricky part. Arisa held her arms out to the sides, leaned back against the padding of the spine, closed her eyes, and concentrated on the feel of that padded metal pressing against her. She envisioned the armor around her, encompassing her, containing her, and she could feel not only the solid strength of that material and form, but the spirit within awaiting her. It quivered in eagerness, both for the coming activity and for the coming contact with her. The other ribs folded around her torso and locked into place. Even as her body was confined, she felt the larger body of her armor coming to life. She could feel her legs folded up and held in their cage, but also her legs under her as she knelt on the floor. As she maneuvered her arms into another set of padded clamps along the spine behind her she felt another set of phantom arms resting on her thighs. The final pair of ribs closed over her forehead and eyes, pressing her head back into a padded recess in the spine and blocking out the visual senses of her fleshly body. Her ears, however, picked up the sounds of shouting and more explosions.
With her physical body secured into the armor, she still had to make the final contact and merger with the spirit of that armor. Over the last few centuries, magic had experienced a renaissance, producing things like Arisa’s armor. However, that magic had been developed in certain ways and channeled in certain directions by the priorities and interests of the society the magicians lived in. So, when it came to merging two souls as if they were one, there were certain preferred methods of doing so.
The control-rod was cold as it began to press against her from below. She relaxed and allowed it to enter, shivering first from the cold, and then for other reasons as it began to warm up and hum with power. Then spirit of the armor was upon her, thrusting into her spiritually even as the rod plunged further physically. There were dark and forbidden versions of this equipment, that allowed evil spirits to rape a captive in body and soul, but neither Grandfather Mishima who had built the armor, nor Natsume Kyusaku who had summoned the spirit were that sort of magician. This spirit hungered for her touch, and for the battle to come, but it was a joining of passion, not an act of rape.
Arisa looked down through metal eyes at her confined body that was now the heart of her larger form. She lifted her hands, pushing her chest plate back into position over that vulnerable heart and rose to her feet. Kyoko was just a beat behind her as she made for the door.
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(Posted Fri, 29 Oct 2004 03:00)
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