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The spoiler alert isn’t working and a forgot that you’re supposed so seperate with different posts, sorry.

The story I’m about to paste isn’t mine, the author is at https://franceslion.tumblr.com/ and http://twitter.com/francesthelion
He said that he’s deleting his Tumblr here soon, so I’m archiving the story here, huge NSFW warning btw.

||Tail Growth Tryst

By Francis Lion

Two online friends with a shared interest in tail growth meet up to make their fantasies come true. features: M/M, dog and bull tail growths, masturbation, long orgasms, tail wagging, tail play

“Uh…wow.”

One glance around the warm, dimly lit room, and the gravity of my situation hit me all at once. I’d been talking to Rex online for years now. And it had taken years for casual horny roleplay to turn into small talk to turn into full-on conversations in which I’d actually been granted any information about this guy’s real life. And here I was, in his house. Not just his house, but in this room. The one we’d talked so much about.

“You like it?” Rex’s voice had this little hint of smugness. He knew my answer.

Slowly my gaze swept around the walls, taking it all in. Huge framed photographic prints adorned the room, images of men’s asses in tight underwear…with tails sticking out. I’d seen some of these photos before, online. And I also recognized the nicely arranged display of faux costume tails. Relics from another time. Rex didn’t really need those anymore.

One wall was filled mostly by a massive full-length mirror. There were warm lights all around, some cushions on the floor. A dark wooden dresser with a row of vials perched neatly atop.

My eyes darted back to one of the framed photos. I stared at the hole in the man’s red underwear, admiring the strong, thick leopard tail curling out behind him.

“Like it? I’m getting hard just being in here,” I confessed. Rex laughed.

“Check it out,” he said, opening one of the dresser drawers. “I’ve got any kind of fabric, any kind of shorts or underwear you could possibly wanna sprout through. Gotta keep a good stock cuz I keep rippin’ em.” He chuckled to himself as I came forward and peered inside.

Indeed, all sorts of garments were folded neatly in the drawer, multiple pairs of each type. I stared, considering the merits of all the options. My cock twitched as I imagined a thick tail busting through each variety of fabric.

Rex was already picking up vials from the top of the dresser, expertly drawing their contents into a syringe. “I think today…I’m gonna grow a dog tail. Nice thick labrador type.”

Snapping out of my fabric fantasies, I felt another twinge down below as I imagined a stiff, rudderlike dog tail sticking out from Rex’s ass, having torn a perfect hole through his underwear. “Oh…that’s gonna be so sexy…”

I scanned the row of vials. I couldn’t believe I’d really been invited here…that I really had access to this technology. Few did - and fewer shared their results online. Rex was very popular in the chats for the photos and videos he shared of himself sprouting real, actual tails. I knew I was lucky…all those other guys would kill to be here, to be as close to Rex as I was.

Despite our closeness, he was a pretty vague, secretive sort of guy. Honestly, I still didn’t have the clearest idea of what he did for a living; what allowed him the luxury of affording these drugs. Something in tech? I don’t know, it always kind of went over my head. I got the sense he didn’t want me to know. All that really mattered was we got along…and we both shared the most intense, overwhelming tail fetish.

“What about you, man? What’ll it be?” Rex sat his syringe down and stared at me, his eyes shining with eagerness.

I was sure he already knew the answer, but breathlessly, I said it anyway. “Bull.”

My greatest fantasy. Those long, strong tails, with those massive, thick tassels of hair hanging off the end…oh, to have one sticking out of my back, to feel it violently swishing behind me…

Rex laughed. He was staring at my crotch. “I see you’re excited about this.”

“Oh, fuck off!” I averted my eyes, chuckling. Yeah, I was rock hard and it was plainly obvious.

Rex kept smiling as he got to work drawing up my drugs. “Alright, so I’m gonna inject this sub-Q. Should take anywhere from fifteen to twenty minutes to start taking effect. Why don’t you pick your poison?” He gestured to the open drawer.

I’d already made up my mind: lycra. I wanted something stretchy, so I could watch my tailbulge grow as tall and tight as possible. I told Rex my decision, and he nodded approvingly, pulling out a red pair from the drawer. “Check this out,” he announced, turning the back side of the briefs towards me. I noticed a strange, sagging shape to the fabric.

“Most of the stuff in this drawer…I had ‘em modified. See this little floppy part in the back? ‘S a pouch. More room for your tail to grow. Makes it last longer…makes for some real big bulges.” My dick twitched at the thought. Rex tossed me the underwear. “Get changed and I’ll inject you.”

——

Rex and I sat on the floor across from one another, reclining against the cushions. To my right was the massive mirror, promising an excellent view of our impending tail growth. The injection had been essentially painless, and now, with me clad in my red lycra briefs, and Rex in a white cotton pair, all that was left was to wait.

Considering what a bizarre - and hot - situation we were in, I was surprised at how natural it felt to just lay back and shoot the shit as we relaxed. I lost track of time as we talked about mutual friends we’d known online over the years. A little bit of work stuff. Porn we’d both jerked off to. That kind of thing. We reminisced about one really annoying guy we’d needed to kick out of a group chat, and soon we were just about keeling over laughing as we recounted some of the stuff he’d done.

Suddenly, there was a pause in the raucous laughter; a sort of knowing look coming over Rex’s face. He grunted, turning to look behind himself.

“Oh…. OHHH! ‘ere it comes… ohhh man…” Rex groaned, bending low and stretching his briefs over his ass. I could see it - a tiny lump swelling to life under the fabric. “Ohh man, every time…it feels so damn good!”

My cock was absolutely throbbing. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Right before my eyes, my greatest fantasies were coming true. Rex was doubled over in sheer ecstasy, wiggling his ass and convulsing in pleasure, the lump in his underwear steadily pushing out further and further.

“Ohhh GOD… my tail…I’m….I’m growin’ a big ole dog tail! AHHH fuck! I got a tail!” Rex shoved his expanding bulge into the air. The fabric outlined it perfectly, revealing every little throb and twitch.

“Oh Rex…oh my god, man, it’s so sexy…look at it bobbin’ around when you move…aw fuck, aw FUCK!” I felt like I might cum just looking at it! I remembered the first time I’d seen one of Rex’s videos…I just about did cream myself.

Just as I was peering down and noticing the wet spot of pre seeping into my red underwear, I felt an erotic swelling of pleasure at the small of my back. My jaw fell open, my breathing grew heavy. It was happening. Oh my god, it was really happening.

“I feel it, man! It’s coming, oh fuck!” I kneeled down low, turning to peer into the wall mirror. I could see it, pushing into the little pouch in the back of the underwear. A tiny, twitching nub, growing steadily longer.

Suddenly it throbbed hard and surged forward, pressing into the fabric with full force. “AUUGHH! Oh FUCK, dude!” My cock pulsed, shooting precum. “It just had a fuckin’ growth spurt or something! OHHH, GOD, that feels awesome!” I bent as low as I could, stretching the fabric over my tail-nub.

Rex had been hard at work bending and moaning just like me, lost in the pleasure. His growing dog tail had created a huge tent behind him, and through the white fabric, I could plainly see it twitching from side to side. He managed to snap out of it and look over, a broad smile sweeping across his face. “Fuck yeah, man! Grow that tail! Gonna be a long, sexy bull’s tail stickin’ out of those underwear!”

I moaned again at his words, savoring the erotic pulsations of my growing tail. Its growth was slow but steady, the pouch in my underwear filling up little by little, the fabric tightening increasingly. There were no words to describe how good it felt, how stiff my cock was. I had my eyes shut, taking it all in.

Then, I felt something collide with my tailbulge and my eyes shot open. “AUUUGHH! FUCK! FUUUUuuCCKK!” My gaze went to the full-length mirror. Rex, still on his knees, had backed up and shoved his tailbulge right into mine. He was whining and moaning, wiggling his butt so that his thick, stiff dog tail-tent was rubbing right up against my own expanding bulge! I’d never felt anything close to this before.

Groaning, I shoved my ass back into his, our twitching bulges grinding forcefully into each other. “Ahhh fuck, man…my tail feels so good rubbin’ on yours like that! Fuck, don’t stop!”

Rex let out a doglike whine. “Hell no, I ain’t stopping…feels too damn good…mm, your tail’s so stiff! Feels awesome against mine! Ahh fuck, I love growin’ a big…thick…sexy tail! Can’t wait to feel this thing…mmmff…bust outta my briefs!”

I moaned uncontrollably. “I-I…I’m really…sproutin’ a big long bull tail! And it feels so good! So FUCKING good! Aww man, I’m so hard! My cock’s rock hard!”

Rex’s tail-tent was incredibly thick now, and a good six inches long. It was filling up the pouch in his briefs, and hesitantly rocking from side-to-side. Seeing it in the mirror, pressed up against my own bulge…it was the hottest thing imaginable! Rex’s tail jerked and he groaned. “Ahh fuck man, my tail…it’s tryna wag…aww fuck, gonna wag this thing so damn hard when it bursts…gotta…WAG! Ohh, fuck, man, I gotta WAG! Gotta wag my big…thick…TAIL! AUUUGHH!”

His tail grew longer, straining the fabric, jutting out obscenely as he bent lower and kept grinding into mine. The thought of that labrador tail busting out and wagging made my cock twitch and squirt pre.

Rex shoved his bulge into mine one last time, then crawled forward and reached his hand back. He began to rub and squeeze his tail, huffing and moaning as he did so. “Ya gotta try this,” he urged me. “Just…try rubbin’ it all over. See where it feels best. Mmm…fuuuck…”

It was hard to peel my eyes away from Rex’s hand caressing his big, bobbing tail-tent…but I switched focus to my own stiff, erect tail. It was pushing the limits of the lycra fabric, but still contained entirely within the tail-pouch. It stood straight up in the air, easily seven inches long. I reached my hand back and squeezed, then began to stroke my tail as though it was my cock. “Awww god..oh, fuck, that’s good! OH!” I kept stroking, then tried wrapping my hand around the base of my tail and giving it a little tug. It felt amazing. I stroked upwards, stopping at the tip of my growing tail, and used a couple fingers to tease and rub the very end that was pressing into the fabric.

“AUUUGH! OH! FUCK!” Wow. Yeah, that felt REALLY good. I kept playing with my tailtip, squirting pre and causing my tail-bulge to jerk in pleasure. “Ahhhh…ohhh, man, it’s…it’s the tailtip for me,” I moaned to Rex. “My tail is so sensitive right there…” I kept rubbing and my tail seemed to respond, surging forward, the already taut tent straining harder. It felt so tight, and it was incredible. I could feel the pressure from the fabric against my tailtip, all the way down to my thick tailbase. I stared in the mirror, taking in the incredible sight of my rigid, long tail pushing the limits of the red lycra.

“Ahh yeah…keep rubbin’, it’ll make your tail push harder…ohhhHHH!” Rex was hard at work squeezing his tailbase, his massive tail-tent visibly jerking from side to side. “Doesn’t it feel…mmm…awesome? Feelin’ your tail..throb…and get longer? Mine feels fuckin’ HUGE…got such a big fuckin’ tail…”

“Ohh god…are you kiddin’ me? Feels…feels SO good!” I moaned, playing with my long, stiff tent. “I…I’m really growin’ a TAIL! Makes my cock twitch just sayin’ that! A TAIL! I have a TAIL! I’m growin’ a TAIL!” I was drenching myself in pre. I couldn’t resist anymore. I had to start rubbing my cock through my briefs.

Rex gave a joyous laugh. “That’s right!” He gave his tail a few more strokes before planting both hands on the ground and bending steeply, ass high in the air. His now massive tailbulge was jerking back and forth furiously, trying with all its might to wag, but finding its fluidity of motion was hindered by the friction of the painfully tight fabric. He panted and moaned, fabric creaking as he grew even more tail. “Ahh…it’s getting so tight…there’s so much pressure! My tail’s gettin’ too huge for my briefs! Ohh god!” The waistband of his briefs was beginning to be pulled away from his body, so long was his tail. “Ohhh fuck…I think…it’s gonna split the fabric soon! Think I’m close…to sprouting! Ohhh fuck! Agghh! My… tail…”

“C’mon Rex! Sprout it! SPROUT it!” My heart was beating rapidfire, my sight fixated on the tented underwear. I couldn’t stop absentmindedly rubbing my stiff and leaky cock through the fabric. More than I’d ever needed anything, I needed to see Rex unleash his tail. In front of me, in the flesh…a real guy sprouting a real tail!

Rex seemed to have lost any ability to form coherent words, instead letting loose an endless stream of erotic grunts and moans and wails as he wagged his ass and pushed his twitching tailbulge out with all his might. I could hear seams splitting. He shoved his ass violently skyward. “Ahhh…. aaauuughh…”

SHRRRPP

A small tear formed at the tip of his tailbulge, shiny black fur poking through. The whole throbbing mass wagged harder as Rex bent steeply and pushed again. “OhhhHHH!! AAAAUU GOD!!”

SHRRRRPPPP

Another set of seams popped, more fur revealing itself. It was evident the briefs couldn’t hold on. I could see threads being pulled apart, fabric being stretched to its limit. Rex’s pleasured groans were defeaning as he convulsed, his ass bobbing about frantically. And then, in a flash, it happened. He shoved his ass out, and an immense POP echoed through the room as his briefs pratically exploded, shreds of fabric scattering like shrapnel in all directions, a tall, thick, rudderlike labrador tail now standing erect behind him. It was only for a split second that I was even able to admire the size and shape of that strong black tail, because instantaneously, it erupted into a crazed fit of wagging. Rex had already long ago lost his mind with pleasure, but it was evident his wagging had increased it tenfold as almost horrifically loud and inhuman howls and moans exploded from his throat, finally giving way to English speech once again.

“I HAVE A TAIL! I HAVE A TAIL!” His screams were crazed, feral. “WAGGIN’ my FUCKIN’ tail! I GOTTA WAG! I NEED IT! Oh, FUCK, oh GOD! Lemme WAG! Feels so FUCKING GOOD!”

I was breathless. And with all my focus directed at that stiff, hairy tail of his, I hadn’t even noticed Rex’s cock. His rigid member was spasming, squirting cum like a firehose handsfree across the room, puddles visibly beginning to pool on the cool floor. It seemed endless - each mighty thrash of his tail triggered another ejection, and finally he managed to wrap a trembling hand around his turgid cock, desperately jerking himself.

I was beet red, my heart beating out of my chest, my eyes unblinking as I watched. My pulsing cock strained urgently against my underwear, soaking them with spurts of pre. I felt the deepest, most carnal arousal of my life, my cock practically begging to be rubbed, to be allowed to shoot hot cum like Rex’s. And my tail…it was straining violently, twitching, pulling the fabric tight against my erection. I knew it was going to give out soon. The pressure was unbelievable. I took a deep breath and gave my desperate cock a squeeze through the red lycra, then bent down, wagging my ass.

I groaned deeply, sweat pouring down my skin. I grunted, shutting my eyes, and shoved my ass as high as I could. My compressed tail was beginning to jerk violently from side to side, stretching the lycra to its limits. It felt so good, but I wanted more. I wanted to feel my tail burst! I wanted it more than anything!

“Come ON…” I whined, “Sprout already! Bust outta there! Need to feel my long…sexy bull tail…whippin’ around back there…mmmmfff…come ONNN…”

The fabric creaked, the pleasure building. I was moaning shamefully loud, my big tailbulge stretching tall as I rocked from side to side, writhing my body in desperation. Finally, I felt the first stitch give out. Time seemed to stand still as the seams creaked and stretched. And then, so fast I could barely register it…

shhRRRRRPPPPP!

PSSHHHHEWWWW!

A perfect hole was busted through the red lycra as my bull tail shot violently into the world, standing up stiffly behind me and rapidly gaining feet of length. My eyes darted to the mirror, and I saw it - a long, muscular, ropey brown tail sticking straight out behind me, a dark and long tuft of wiry, wavy hair sprouting from its tip. And then, just as quickly as it had burst, it began to swish, and then full-on swat.

My cock pulsed. I moaned ecstastically. “Ohhh FUCK! OH GOD!” Wildly, my tail was swatting away imaginary flies. The torn fabric hugged the thick tailbase, and waves of almost torturously divine pleasure radiated from each muscle of my new appendage as it moved violently, sweeping from side to side and whacking my legs and ribs as it swung heavily. I watched in the mirror, my eyes wide as dinner plates as I took it in. The shape of my tail, its motions, the weight of the switch at the end of my tail and the way that long hair felt grazing my skin…

“Ohh god…got…a tail! Rex! Rex, I’ve got a bull tail! I’m waggin’ my fuckin’ tail! My LONG tail! Oh god, it’s so long…OHHH!”

I thrusted my hips, my cock throbbed, and I felt my inevitable orgasm coming rapidly closer. With a mighty thwack of my tail and an earsplitting moan, my cock began to squirt, drenching the red lycra with hot cum!

Desperately, I fumbled with the underwear, forcing them as far down as my knees and shuddering at the feeling of my tail slipping free from the hole it had created. Now my rigid cock was free, and it was STILL spurting! It bobbed and jerked as ropes of white cum shot across the room. Breathing hard, I brought my hand to my member and began pulling at myself, milking more and more. I shuddered, taking a deep breath. I needed to stroke my cock more than anything, and it felt so good. So, so good. My cock felt so big and so hard, and my endless orgasm continued. Rope after rope, pooling on the floor.

Rex was just beginning to snap out of his own ecstasy. Breathing hard, he managed to turn towards me and see my long tail for himself. “Lookit that sexy bull’s tail sticking outta you! Mmm, god, lookit that thing whip around…god damn, that’s hot…” His tail was still wagging, and his long orgasm had ended, yet his cock remained completely erect. “Yeah, man, keep cummin’…”

I moaned, jerking myself furiously, still shooting thick ropes and forming some impressive puddles. “H…how am I… STILL cumming?” I groaned.

“‘S the injections,” Rex huffed, breathless. “Makes your orgasms real long. And you can have a lot of ‘em. You’ll see.”

I don’t know how long I kneeled there, jerking off and moaning and lashing my tail and flooding the floor with my cum, but eventually, ropes reduced to dribbles and I finished with a couple firm, slow strokes. My ears were ringing, heart beating fast, chest heaving for breath. My tail slowed, but still swayed like a serpent. And indeed, my cock was still rock hard.

I looked up at Rex. “Wow.”

He laughed. “Right? Now, come on…” In a sitting position, he slowly spun around so that his back was facing me. His thick tail stuck out proudly, grazing the floor as it casually wagged. “Come stroke this.”

I gulped, and my cock pulsed. I crawled forward, taking in the appearance of his dog tail. It was gorgeous. I didn’t need any convincing. I reached out and groped the appendage greedily, huffing. Rex moaned ecstatically, and his tail wagged harder. Sloppily I stroked it, massaged its powerful base, touched and squeezed it in every way I could. Rex bent low and shoved his ass out as he whined in pleasure, clearly loving the sensations.

“Ahh yeah, keep touchin’ it… just do anything you want, feels so fuckin’ good! Makin’ me wag again!”

I moaned at his words, deeply aroused by the feeling of his tail and the way it kept escaping my grasp with its powerful motions. “Ah fuck, it really turns me on when it wags so hard,” I confessed, feeling my own tail lash behind me. “Think it’s makin’ me wag too! And it feels awesome!” For awhile, the room was silent save for our mutual breaths and moans as I massaged, unable to keep my hands off the rigid labrador tail. My cock was at full mast and visibly throbbing, as if I hadn’t just pumped a veritable lake of cum all over the floor!

I adjusted my posture in such a way that the furry tip of Rex’s wagging tail grazed the head of my dick. I shuddered, leaking a bead of pre. I gulped, heart racing, overcome with desire…and forcefully I grabbed his tail, scooted closer, and bucked my hips so that my cock slid right up against it. My cock jerked and I let loose a boisterous moan, and I just about lost control. I was frotting with Rex’s tail, rubbing myself all over it, spurting little ropes of pre into the shiny black fur, feeling it up and grinding into it with total abandon.

Rex was letting loose raucous moans of his own as he shoved his tail further into my grip. “God damn,” he breathed, a little chuckle passing his lips. “Hot as hell. Fuckin’ my tail like that. Mmm…think I need a turn with yours!”

Before I knew it, Rex had spun around and torn his tail away from my eager cock, and was crawling over towards my hind end. I saw his erection, sticking out like a flagpole and leaking a line of pre. He crept around me on all fours, his dog tail held aloft and sweeping from side to side sensually. Then, I shuddered as I felt his strong hands grasp my tail. He worked it expertly, stroking and massaging its length, and then he recalled its most sensitive spot. His fingertips dug into the thick switch at the end and caressed my blunt tailtip. “Oh-OHHHH!!!” My cock jumped and shot pre as he went to work. I glanced in the mirror, seeing my long dark tail in his hands, watching his own powerful tail jauntily wag. The sensations were unbelievable; almost too much, and I could only moan in response and shove my ass out closer to him. My cock was screaming with need, and I had to stroke it. I began jerking furiously, my pleasured huffs and groans mingling with the wet smacks of my hand pulling at my engorged member.

I heard Rex chuckle in my ear as he pulled on my tail and massaged its root. “Need to cum again, huh? Why don’t you get a little personal with this tail of yours?”

He let my bull tail loose, and it whipped wildly behind me, smacking the floor. He grabbed it by the tip and brought it around to the front of my body, positioning himself in front of me. “Quit jerking for a second.”

I forced myself to pull my hand away, breathing heavily. My stiff cock protested, twitching and drooling. I watched intently as Rex brought my tail closer and closer to my dick. It was swishing crazily in his grasp, and soon the switch was smacking into my cock. “Oh FUCK!!!” My cock squirted pre as the long wiry hairs of my tail’s switch delicately grazed it. Rex held it there, and I kept uncontrollably thwapping the end of my tail against my own erection. I couldn’t believe how good it felt…the two sensitive appendages meeting, each offering the other a world of sensory pleasure.

“Oh god, Rex, it feels so good…” I couldn’t look away; the image of my tail and cock colliding was so sexy! Rex grinned and brought more of my tail’s length into my lap. Gently, he pressed my tail up against the underside of my dick, holding it there. “Okay,” Rex instructed, “Jerk like that.”

He guided my hand to my cock, placing it so that I grasped my member while holding my tail in place. I shuddered at the feeling; at the sight of the end of my tail whipping around just past the head of my cock. I began to stroke…slowly, and then faster, and faster. The feeling was superb…I had to imagine this was what jerking off with two cocks would feel like. I was huffing and moaning, frotting wildly with my tail, thrusting my hips, my balls swinging. Rex was sitting there and admiring his handiwork, going to town on his own massive erection.

“R…Rex?” I gasped, not pausing my masturbation for a second. “If I could just…watch your tail wag…”

His eyes lit up. Not another word needed. He spun around and stuck his ass out, and that thick, sexy tail was flying back and forth at hypersonic speed. I moaned at the sight, shooting pre.

“Ahhh fuck, Rex! Yeah, keep waggin’ it! Wag HARDER! Fuck, I’m so hard! Feels so fucking good! My tail! Jerking my fuckin’ tail!! I have a TAIL! Fuck, man, we sprouted sexy fuckin’ tails right through our briefs! I grew a goddamn TAIL…”

Now Rex was beating off furiously, too, his tail picking up the pace as he pushed his ass out closer to me. “Damn right,” he groaned, “Feels so fucking good…I can’t stop…ohhh FUCK! I love to fuckin’ WAG!” He paused for breath, and I heard the rapidfire, slick sounds of his hand rocketing up and down his rigid shaft. I sped up my own hand, feeling my next orgasm rapidly approaching. I panted as I stared at his tail, its every thrash bringing me closer, turning me on more.

“Rrrrex… ohh god, oh fuck…Rex, I’m close,” I whined, not peeling my gaze away from that dog tail for even a moment.

He let loose a moan, his arm flying up and down as he began stroking himself faster. “C’mon man, shoot! Cum all over my fuckin’ tail! Fuck!”

“AhhhHHHHH! OHHHHHH!!! UUUHHHHNNNggghh GOD!” Pleasure crashed down over me as I humped the air and my cock exploded, thick ropes of white cum shooting forth and splattering across the floor, across Rex’s wagging tail, across the tuft of my own tail that I still was squeezing against my spasming rod. I groaned deeply as shot after shot sprayed from my tip.

I let my tail go and it swatted wildly. Cock still shooting, I crawled closer to that wagging labrador tail and aimed my member at it, unleashing rivers of cum like a gardenhose. I grabbed his tail forcefully, kneading greedily with one hand while my other hand aimed my endless ejections into the shiny black fur. I was completely drenching Rex’s tail with my cum, hot white pools forming in the hairs, dripping to the floor.

Feeling the force of my ejaculation against his sensitive tail was enough to send Rex over the edge. “I’M ‘ONNA SHOOT!! AW FUCK!”

Fapping furiously, he unleashed a howl of ecstasy as his own cock began spurting like a fountain, sending ropes clear across the room, their splatters clapping loudly against the smooth walls and floor. I moaned and bit my lip as I squeezed my cock, grinding my tip deep into his fur and creaming the fleshy tail beneath. I had utterly soaked the top half of his tail, and lifting it up, I began to hump into the sensitive underside of his tail root, still shooting my endless load.

“Aw GOD,” he groaned, spouting cum onto the floor. “FUCK yes! Ohhh my god…empty your fuckin’ balls…ALL over my tail! Mmmff…DRENCH that thing! Fuck!”

He didn’t need to ask. My heart beat out of my chest, my face reddened, and I let loose a scandalizing moan as I caressed the thick dog tail and milked my cock for all it was worth, squirting all over Rex’s hairy new appendage. He was still jerking off, too, and I could hear the spatters of cum collecting on the shiny flooring. My stroking slowed and became more forceful as I felt the seemingly endless wave of orgasmic pleasure gently ebb away, depositing a few final white beads of ejaculate into Rex’s fur. Exhausted, I sat back, taking big heaving breaths as my stiff member jerked and expelled its last little dribbles. Weighed down by my cum, Rex’s tail was swaying slowly and heavily, absolutely drenched and dripping in my seed, its dark coloration nearly masked by a layer of translucent white. I took in the scene with amazement, absentmindedly kneading the tip of my long tail.

With a few animalistic moans, Rex’s jerking slowed. His cock had been shooting ropes several feet into the air, but slowly his ejections were becoming more modest, until he too reached the end of his incredible climax, coaxing out the final drops with a tremendous sigh. He sat there for awhile, chest heaving, his tail drooping to the floor. It brushed across the ground and left a slimy trail of cum in its wake.

With great effort, he turned to me, his facial expression both tired and exhilirated. We locked eyes, mouths agape as we caught our breaths, and wordlessly exchanged feelings of wonder. Then we both looked around, smelling the thick scent of cum, taking in the shocking sight of the floor and walls totally drenched in our ejaculate. Both our cocks were throbbing and stiff, stretching towards the sky, seemingly ready and eager to do it all over again.

A long pause, and then Rex smacked his lips, mouth bone-dry from all his moaning.

“So…the tails will last a few hours or so. Then maybe we can go again. Sprout some new ones. I think I’ll grow a rat one. You?”||

[ 🎶 ]
 
May 2nd, 21XX…
 
“Pacifican diet dissolved around three weeks ago… Lemme tell you something; the no-man’s land left in it’s wake may be the best free-for-all I’ve ever seen–I mean, when guns get drawn, and flashpoints are reached, it’s absolute, fucking, chaos.”
 

 
“Some of the more craven, dastardly elements will do things they’d normally never do, just out of the desperation. They’ll mug the displaced, they’ll take every morsel and dram of food and water from the relief effort drops. I once heard this tall tale goin’ around, I hope it ain’t true, cuz this is the most sickening thing I’ve ever heard; this one armed group, dunno if there was a name, tried using refugees as living shields…”
 
 
June 11th of same year…
 

 
“You know, before when I had the black market, boltholes were almost an afterthought, but now that, eh… now that smuggling routes beneath the metroplex have been cracked down on, these hideaways are my sanctuaries, y’know? If I’m not out there, combing through financial offices for foreign bearer bonds, ‘r at wit’s end scouring municipal servers for blueprints n’ admin-passkeys for public makers, I’ll more than likely be huddled within one of these hidey-holes, tinkerin’ around. I’m something of a MacGyver myself too, by the way… It’s insane, with a few desktop-scale makers, I can concoct damn-near-anything, given time, the materials, a design, and electricity…”
 
 
July 25th…
 

 
“The liberationist communities ain’t too bad. They’re almost all so friendly, it’s like some ‘nano-soc’ hippie commune, everyone of them working together n’shit to keep their neighborhoods runni… I will say, sometimes they’re a little too frien-Hey, CAN YOU GIVE ME SOME PRIVAC-”
 
July 26th…
 
“Y’know, for the most part, we just chill, relax, vibe… These folk don’t even have beef with eachother, everybody just keeps eachother alive, well, and able to work at it. Only people we fight are PMCs, usually when they come around to heist the workshops…”
 
 
November 10th…
 
“…you stay down… I’ll see if they’re still out there…”
 
The speaker, one shark named Rameshvara, toggled his hardsuit helmet visor’s HUD to IR-only, screening up heat-sources from the post-carnage all around… His CAIS companion hunted up and down the visual spectrum for a split-second, then found optimum false-color assignments for the situation. The smoke faded upward in a slight bluish-glowing swirl rising toward the dead sky that appeared to him like a black void… The ad hoc barricades built up by rogue PMCs here, around Pacifica’s seaport-full of shipping containers, fell into sharp focus, mostly in shades of green that verged on being soothing to look at…
 
There was an instant reminder however that this wasn’t a calm place, when a flash behind one of the barricades produced a livid bloom on the wall behind–a near miss by a micromissile, the infrared scar left pulsing in false-orange tones, before soon followed up with the wall flickering and sparking to a hail of gunfire.
 

 
“…yep, they’re still out there.”
 
“Backup plan: oookeeey, dun’ think imma get out intact for this one, eh… Prime the dead-hand triggers for farcasting, stash these bonds into this container here… Y’know, before you die, they say your life flashes before your eyes, like a highlight reel of all your worst and best moments…”
 
“Wonder if that’ll happen to us?”
 
The gunfire raking across the dock halted, and a silence began to stretch… Rameshvara peered around the corner again to look, but suddenly recoiled from a searing flash and boom that pierced through the shark’s wall of cover;
 

 
An afterimage of his body exploding in the beam lingered in the space he stood for but a moment,
 
before fading…

The synth-reptilian woman on the screen was shrieking, steel serrated teeth bared with rage as she lunged at the custodian-bot. Her mechanical fists battered its white plexiglass shell as it vaguely tried to defend itself. Its calming voice drowned out by a shrill stream of invective.
 
 
[ 🔊 ]  
“Making snuff, sir?” Rameshvara commented as he entered the lab delivering a case of beer bottles.
 
 
Carbrey looked up from his console and smiled. “Hi Ramesh. No, just checking my new masterpiece. Just watch.”
 
Carbrey opened a voice link to the test chamber: “Coiled alizarine unconformity: stand down. Passive mode.”
 
 
The disheveled synthlady, who a moment ago had been murderously looking for a tool, suddenly dropped the pipe she was hefting. She slumped to the floor, covering her face with her hands, the fingers half-broken and contorted. Carbrey muted the sound of weeping.
 
 
“Obedience programming? That’s old hat.” The artificial-bodied shark said while offered Carbrey a bottle.
 
 
Carbrey: “Thanks. Sure. I just used the fake puppeteer neuro. The interesting part is how it got into her.”
 
 
Ramesh: “I don’t get it, I’m just a 426. By the way, who is she?”
 
 
Carbrey: “Just a random I pulled from the server. I sleeved her into that body and put her into that room. A voice command, and she hated the bot in there with her more than anything. A while before she wanted to have sex with it…”
 
 
Ramesh: “I’m sure that appealed to you.”
 
 
Carbrey: “I would be a liar if I said it didn’t… But the point is, she has a fully functional puppet network running inside her synthbrain. And it got there without me doing any psychosurgery.”
 
 
Ramesh: “How?”
 
 
Carbrey brought up a series of video clips showing his lab, happy to show off to his synthetic assistant. “I used another John Doe to infect a mind-transfer bridge with a cognovirus. First I spliced the virus into his mindprint by hand, then I had him upload using that bridge. I then printed out miss anger management with that same bridge. Works like a charm.”
 
 
Ramesh: “Let me see. You have a brain-carried virus that infects transfer bridges. Anybody who uses one of the bridges gets printed with the virus. And the virus carries a puppeteer payload allowing you to control the infected?”
 
 
Carbrey: “Almost right, my friend. I combined the puppeteer with a little neuro-AI I picked up from George’s T-Gang. The AI keeps in touch with its peers, allowing them to plan and coordinate when I’m not around. Right now both patient zero and miss random are actually in low-bandwidth subconscious contact using blog messages. That’s actually what I am testing now. The sex and violence is just to check that the puppeteer works fine.”
 
Ramesh: “Sure, Carbrey… Actually, you don’t need to test that any further.”
 
“We know it works perfectly.” The shark’s face turned spiteful.
 
 
Carbrey looked slightly perplexed at his assistant. “…How come?”
 
 
Ramesh: “Remember what you did to Raudies? And miss Brunel?”
 
 
Carbrey:”…That was ages ago. I even fixed them afterwards, and you and I are friends.”
 
 
Ramesh: “Funny that you should say that. Just this morning you said you’d do the same to me.”
 
The shark broke the beer bottle against the console, inspecting the jagged glass edge rimming the intact neck.
 
“…Coiled alizarine unconformity: fear me.”
 
 
Carbrey’s eyes bulged as he retreated towards the wall, unable to avoid watching the artificial-bodied shark slowly approach silently mirroring the synth lady’s unnatural anger moments ago. He was screaming long before Ramesh even reached him.
 
 

 
“Ah.” Mistress Curiana Arabo waved the display closed and turned to the others in the conference space. Carbrey was pale and sweaty, but the beginning of a triumphant smile flickered at the corner of his mouth. Red Ardid stood behind him, expressionless as always. The others were watching with interest.
 
“Professor Carbrey, we thank you for this convincing demonstration of Coiled Alizarine. It has convinced us that your unauthorized use of scratch synths was indeed for the good of the network. A tool that makes allies deadly enemies is wondrous indeed. A tool that spreads from mind to mind is even greater. Thank you for this gift.”
 
 
Carbrey began to thank Curiana profusely.
 
 
Curiana: “I think a proper repayment for our test of Coiled Alizarine on you would be permission to multiply instances of your assistant Rameshvara. We are sure you can use him most creatively next time you need a scratch person.”
 
 
As the triumphant Carbrey left the conference space Curiana turned to Ardid: “I find sore winners most annoying. We can all do with a bit more humility. Keep Coiled Alizarine running in Carbrey, and give him to Rameshvara instead. Carbrey may’ve put the two-and-two together, but with what Rameshvara’s managed to achieve with that on a fleshen brain, he’s more than earned Carbrey’s position.”

 
???(1): Chuckles, turned away toward a view off a balcony. “Nothing unifies a people like a great cause…”
 
 
???(2): Leans over a map of North America, colored areas and dots delineating territories and cities within regions of the former states Texas, and Colorado… “The tribals have survived the worst the cataclysm had thrown at them, ontop of each and every little apocalypse they face every waking day. Some say they can’t be ‘recivilized’.”
 
 
???(1): Turns back to his consigliere, approaching the map-table. “…those damned chiefdoms think themselves perdurable under the auspices of self-described deities… They think a god of nature will protect them, but gods bestow aegis to only-” Slams a fist clenching a swaggerstick down upon a territory encompassing former Nevada… “the strong!”
 
“With North America relifted under my lead,” Sweeps an end of the stick up to Canada, then all the way down to Cape Horn of South America. “I control the Western Hemisphere, then the world…”
 
 
???(2): “Nyx will be commanding one of the largest military stockpiles in the americas, and Xerxes is a bastion of order built back then to withstand a world plunged into complete chaos-”
 
 
???(1): “There won’t merely be mutants dashed against the stone!… I’ll defeat them all with the greatest whirlwind the world has ever seen! I want all the protectorates’ viceroys, and their armies! Send emissaries in the morning.”
 
 
???(2): “One last thing; we need the original Nirayans, and their warbeasts…”
 
 
???(1): “The Nirayans… they can’t be controlled, they’re as likely to fight us as the Xerxian overlords!”
 
 
???(2): “We don’t need to control them, we need to unleash them… their beasts were made to end lives.”
 
 
???(1)” “Yes, they’re gifted killers, but they threaten everything I’ve built! Before me, the world was sundered! I’m bringing the world back together, I’ve stoked the beginning of a new world order, out of cultists and savages! I BUILD THE FUTURE! ME!”
 
“…the Nirayans are the past; a people chained to old memories, a people, not unlike the tribals, whose cause is only to their kith and kin-”
 
 
???(2): “How many foes have ended to his warbeasts, or between her teeth? By the edge of his sword, or by his trigger-pull? The world’s resurgence will be the greatest event history will have ever seen… We need the greatest fighters.”

Chapter 43: Staged intelligence explosion stability
 

 
Overview:  
A large class of intelligences exist within levelled toposophic spaces, leading to multistage self-improvement _{^{[ PDF ]}}.
 
It is shown that sub-mapping these spaces is NP-hard and both forward-chained and backward-chained motivational structures cannot be protected in any effective ascendance chain algorithm ( computable or noncomputable ).
 
The quantum and MacCaleb-DeWitt cases are handled separately, and show probabilistic instability in all finite-information physica. For safety definitions AG in Chapter 41, Chaitin’s omega-constant is a lower bound on the failure probability per rho-folding of intelligence.

I switched to Level 2. The bullets were still whizzing past, but now with a pleasant baritone as temporal shear reduction software filled in details and corrected for timbre and pitch. A distant arm reeling back to hurl forth a hand grenade looked rather languid.
 
I switched to Level 3, and the firefight was near-motionless: my adversaries were still there, but appeared more as lifelike sculptures. Nearby fountains turned into crystal ornaments, water droplets hanging in air like slowly undulating glass beads…
 

 
Most of the scenery was generated by my ‘muse’ AI companion, since my eyes couldn’t saccade fast enough to fill in details. I looked over the courtyard, and considered my options. Despite the speedup, I did not have that much time-–one man was already leveling a rifle barrel toward me.
 

 
I shifted fully into slowtime, and begun examining the weapon and its security interfaces. I sent some somatic commands to my body to target the faraway grenadier’s throwing hand, fingers still clasped around the spoon–no point committing all my effort into that front when the TSRware would easily be able to handle such a shot–-then began hacking the telumic software of that hostile rifleman’s lemon-grade firearm.

With a loud thunk, the gloved fist slammed down onto the chairs armrest. The leather tightening as the hand clenched in frustration.  
“I grow tired of these games. WHAT EXPLAINS THESE DELAYS?”  
The mans commanding shout echoed off the metal walls of the bridge. For a moment, there was no immediate reply, until a timid voice spoke.  
“My lord, I do not wish to sound impotent, but the aberrations have…hampered our progress.”  
This was met with a cold glare, squinted eyes peered down at the young Lieutenant who had spoken.  
“Progress?” The man hissed. “What progress? These natives should have been disposed of several rotations ago!”  
With that last word almost shouted, the man rose up from the chair, ascending to an impressive 7 foot height. He stepped down from the raised podium and strode towards the nearest window. Far beyond his sight, lie the shimmering blue ball known as Equis, suspended alone in the black of space.  
He stood there, pondering as he watched the planet slowly rotate on its axis. The conquest of this blue ball had been going well, first the Ponies, then the Zebras, the Griffons and lastly the Minotaurs. But how could these bipedal freaks stand against humanities might?  
With his back now turned, the officer started once more, interrupting the mans thoughts. “Well…resistance has been greater than anticipated, it seems as if the entire population has taken up arms in some way.”  
A smile crept onto the mans face, stretching the wrinkles across his cheeks. “Then..burn them. All of them. It is no longer satisfactory to take prisoners.”  
“At once my lord. The 3rds wish is my command.” With that, the young officer briskly trailed off to give the necessary orders.  
Alone again with his thoughts, the man known as the 3rd, continued to peer out at Equis, or as he will soon rename it. Earth.

[ 🎶 ]
 
 
 
[ 🔊 ]
 
Nov. 3  
“They sent me to the jungle to make a violent and cunty record about the Wild Frontier come round the wheel o’ history again, stopping its unique je ne sais quoi and yours truly with the compass needle pointed to a boomtown called ‘Gomorrah’. Sounds good to me…I’d momentarily grown tired of wrestling with the people in my head and it’s a good plan in such instances to put some new folk in there…filtering out the mundane ones with healthy doses of whiskey, of course. Or fermented exotic fruit, accounting for local custom.”
 
Nov. 4  
“Apparently them crazy damn Architects fancied themselves capable of some Romanesque hydro-works. Seems the psycho bastards are cutting themselves a swath along a river through green hell…THE green hell…The Floranim Jungle. Got everyone in on it–government men whipping indigenous tribescats and indentured labor with excavators for 12-hour days of feverish bushwacking.”
 
Nov. 5  
“They got themselves a goddamned circus in their muddy wake, this nomad encampment called ‘Nueva Gomorrah’. As they push through the humid jungle stench and poisonous damn-near-everything, the town follows behind, serving workers with booze, drugs, and the bodies of its women, everyone hitchhiking along in the earth-moving spoonfuls of Teslatic-made excavators and deuce-and-a-half lorries.”
 
“I don’t know where the fellas get the energy for that much shag, myself. Getting on the fucking gyrodyne would have killed my ass had I not been heavily fortified with a variety of chemicals.”
 
“Law has no meaning out in the wilderness…Men are getting shot and left in the trail. They’re paving the road to modernity with the bones of barroom shootouts and used rubbers, as all civilizations should. It’s the last of the wild places where a man’s leisure is as dangerous as his work, and Empyrian Press thought yours truly here was meant to take a snapshot for the record.”
 
Nov. 7  
“And the gyrodyne is coming in over the outskirts now, muddy river cut into the greenery like a smile on a whore’s face. I met my guide, Lt. Indra, and got my pal Albert squared away medicinally despite the watchful eye of that damned sadist editor. We’ll get a bead on the local debauchery by point of contrast, then it’s off down the road to a town of decadent dreams…the one that’s never in the same place twice but always two lanes wide…where we hope to meet men intent on fucking and drinking their way into places civilization weren’t meant to tread.”
 
Nov. 8  
“That god-cursed tribescat dropped us off on the road a goddamned marathon away from town. Look chief, I know they’re raping your land, but don’t charge me for watching and expect the noble savage treatment in my immortal prose. Asshole…”
 
“Speaking of violation, my entourage of crew, whores, and heavy machine operators came across a strange sight as we humped our shit down the jungle road. I was just thinking to myself this must be what the boys venturing across Uruk feel like when we saw the idols…The things were some seven feet tall and dotted the road like attractions. The machine operators even demolished some of the things in their eagerness.”
 
“The sight shows these great, granite women with clubs attack this strapping young lad with such enormous equipment he don’t have room for legs no more, just drags his huge endowment through the dirt while walking on his hands…Poor fellas’ delicates must have crossed the weight limit for pleasure and into pain. The prehistoric ladies ain’t having it no more, and the bastard’s so ugly I can’t says I blame them, loyalties to a fellow brother be damned.”
 
“The ones they ain’t torn down aren’t well-preserved. In the flood plain, it seems…I can only glean the stone comic book on one, and all the likenesses of the fella have their faces worn away. No eyes. Just a big sucking hole for a mouth…Gotta remember to call a museum down here before these brutes reduce the rest down to gravel.”
 
Nov. 11  
“Have put this on record…I can’t make sense of it.”
 
“We saw the smoke of the town a full day earlier than expected. The workers must have cut ahead by ten miles, which might as well be on the moon in the rainy season. Me and Lt. Indra were worried that they’d gotten sick of the nomad act and put down roots, which left a short jump to laws and culture and no story for me.”
 
“Far fucking from it. We’re no sooner in sight of the tents when these topless women run at us with drinks in hand, breasts flopping out. All the men are half-naked too. Whole place is recovering from the mother of all orgies the night before. They seemed disappointed it didn’t beat some record and is primed to try again tonight…Makes me wonder now if anyone was left to actually cut the trees up ahead. Nueva Gomorrah was too damned horny to move.”
 
“The shark’s too much of a prude to partake, leaving to go find his superiors, while Albert and I ditch the crotchety editor and dive right in…We think we’re big men, doing it for journalism and Empyria and whatnot.”
 
“Things get cloudy but it’s about the craziest damn time I can remember having. Men and women trailing off into the woods to fuck, music everywhere, booze, drugs…A real love-in. I lost my intended partner in a crush as one lady after another found my lap, fighting over me like a piece of meat as we drank in the massive, sweaty tents.”
 
“Then the gunfire.”
 
“Army men came out of the direction of the work camp, firing into the air. Most looked beat to shit. Some were hauling moaning men in improvised stretchers…Anybody fucking runs for it, anybody coming out of the woods, they all get shot. Then the ones with machetes set upon the bodies…It’s a fascist wet dream. Before I can pull myself out of shock, they start lining us up and take us behind the tent.”
 
“I’m scared shitless already when their captain stalks out of the night…Hard bastard was more scratch than skin; he was bleeding from everywhere. With these dead eyes, he cuts himself somewhere with a straight-razor, looking each person in the eyes as he does it…About the fourth one down, he cuts his face. The girl in front of him, she gives this moan in response. A deep one. Pleasant. Then she’s being dragged out of line by her hair.”
 
“The soldiers, they circle up around her in a C-shape, real careful to give us a view. The ones not doing that form a line and thumb back the hammers on their carbines. I’m pissing myself staring down the barrels, begging for my life, when I see the girl on the ground…She’s STILL hot to trot, writhing around in the mud like the horny dog she is, feinting toward the soldiers surrounding her like she can’t decide which one she wants more.”
 
“Then the bossman shouts something, and the guys start pummeling her to death with their gunstocks. I see it all, but the boss, he sees me…he’s staring straight at us. He starts pointing at folks in the line, and they open up with them goddamn guns each time…The man left of me goes down, the couple to my right, scores more…Blood was pooling in the tracks left in the road.”
 
“All that was left was me and maybe half a dozen others, though I’m too fucking scared to count at the time. There’s this eerie calm between the beat-up girl’s last breath and the sounds of the jungle resuming…Then there’s this rustling in the underbrush, and weird hooting-chattering like bats on a summer night, but louder and from every direction. Next thing I know they are shooting again, but this time into the trees.”
 
“Out of the chaos Indra finds and grabs me then runs us down the road, leading us sprinting down the muddy path in bewitching hour. I swear I can hear those hooting bat noises rushing past us as we run, heading towards the gunfire and growing glow of fires behind us.”
 
“Albert is already half-way back to the boat landing by the time I catch up to him…His face is cut to shit and he’s got no answers for me…What happened? What the hell happened!?”
 
Nov. 12  
“Woke up this morning to find Albert stabbing a man with…something. He held it in his mouth and went like a fucking woodpecker. The soldiers that made it back to the boat with us almost wiped themselves out in crossfire, trying to hit him while the boat was in the middle of the raging river. He came at the lieutenant then, with that thing writhing out from him, but that shark was deadly-fast with a knife, slicing it right off Albert’s lips, then kicked him backwards and overboard…Even in the deep water, the piranhas made Albert’s blood froth in the surf.”
 
“Those left threw their own dead in too…Didn’t even hesitate. The thing was still flopping around in Indra’s hand before he sealed it inside an ammo tin. I can still hear it thrashing around in there…maybe a doctor back home will…I don’t know.”
 
“Why am I still talking about this? The words can’t cut it no more…”
 

(This is my first story here on this thread so feel free for criticism!)  
Daddy was gone. Daisy had gotten to him. Mommy was hiding with me, as we could hear Daisy stomp around looking for us. It was only a few days before my birthday, and I couldn’t wait. I had asked Mommy for a Daisy doll. The most amazing doll a young woman could have. As Mommy had dropped me off at school, I heard my friends talk about how amazing their Daisy was. They had all made me jealous and I couldn’t wait for my birthday. Daisy had slammed something down, Making a loud crash, as she then ran to another room making more crashing noises. Mommy and I then slowly tiptoed to the other side of the room to the closet. “Shh…Everything’s going to be okay, baby. Stay here, and wait for Mommy….Okay?” Isabelle brought her daisy for show and tell the next day, Showing her beautiful yellow and white dress, With her always smiling her beautiful smile. She was wearing lipstick, and other makeup that Mommy puts on In the morning when I get ready for school. During recess, Isabelle and her friends were playing with her Daisy, Putting on dresses and having her talk to boy dolls. I didn’t Like how she wouldn’t share with me, so I took her Daisy. Mrs. Edison made me give her back, and say sorry. Daddy was In the kitchen when Daisy had gotten to him. He was putting the cake and ice cream away, When Daisy wanted some. Daddy didn’t share…And Daisy didn’t say sorry. The next day, after school Me and mommy went to the store, So I could pick out one early present before my birthday. I already knew what I wanted. A Daisy. But…When we had gotten there…all of the Daisy dolls were gone. I started to get sad, and almost cried, before a man with a big smile and dressed In a white and yellow suit came by. He said that he had one and that he would give It to me. He did! He said that this Daisy was special and just for me! He said that this Daisy was magic, and she could be anything I wanted! He said the only thing I had to do, Was make her my friend. Mommy put me In the closet and under a few clothes, telling me to be quiet as she closed the doors while she was crying. I felt my eyes start to water as she closed the doors. When we got home, I played with my Daisy all day. We rode horses and colored and we even played hide and seek! The next day, For show and tell, I brought Daisy and I saw Isabelle talking to Mrs. Edison and Mrs. Edison talking to Isabelle. After school, We had macaroni and cheese with ketchup and cake and Ice cream! It was an amazing day. Daisy had found Mommy. Daisy yelled at Mommy, while I saw her arm through Mommy and then I shut my eyes tightly. I didn’t want to see Daisy again. I didn’t want this to happen. I didn’t want Daddy to be gone. I didn’t want Mommy to be gone. I didn’t Like playing hide and seek with a doll. Did Daisy not like It either? I found her…But will she find me?
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
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“Nephilim to Readiness Level 2 - full mobilization.”
 
 
[ 🔊 ]  
Precisely one second after getting pinged with that order, Indigo Latitude began humming to life. Within the domes, hundreds of thousands of solid-walled basins formed out of the city’s porous floor, while bush-like furcating tendrils descended from byzantine networks of rails clinging to the high ceilings.
 
The domes echoed as the tendrils began sprinkling down mists of smart matter. Dozens of S-matter breeds were added upon one another, forming into an oily blob within each alcove. Once their creations reached four meters in width, the precipitation ceased.
 
An observer would’ve witnessed a brief pause as nascent warbots finished congealing their compositions together. The slick textures faded as an argent carapace grew and solidified along the surface of each unit, along with a head punctuated by six sensor-blisters formed into two clusters on each side. The units then sculpted into long, streamlined forms before rising on six powerful limbs.
 

 
As the warbots assumed their teratomorphic form, hatches opened all along the interiors of the manufacturing alcoves. Lightning-fast tendrils transferred block-like components from compartments to the warbots; depositing them in cavities along their form that snapped closed in an eyeblink.
 
Once more, a pause held tenure over the domes as the bots organized and arranged their arsenals within themselves. Tentacles sprouted from their backs, small and large, clutching varieties of sensors, defenses, and weaponry. Loadout checks finalized, the first legion of warbots leapt up out of their alcoves and marched into awaiting insectoid vessels nestled within the sides of the floating city. Upon these they would be whisked up out of Jupiter into space to begin a long journey to their goal; the total annihilation of some doomed, farflung enemy.
 
As the thousands of warbots departed, the ceiling-tendrils sprang to life again, laying down the next legion.
 
Nary a minute had passed since Indigo Latitude had activated. It wouldn’t fall silent for many days…

Indigo Latitude, by Anders Sandberg
 
[ ⛈ ]  
The technician offered me a smartpatch “to make the ride smoother”. I was about to decline when I saw the pity in his eyes.
 
A minute later, the capsule was descending along the cable. It was a sunny day with just some light cirrus, and a halo with complex sundogs (octahedral ammonia, I guessed). Jovanovich aerostat dangling under its balloon looked small and festive in the yellow light across Jupiter’s equatorial cloudscape… An escaped toy, exploring a wonderland of air.
 

 
We then descended into the cloud deck. As it got dark I began to notice the rumbling. It had been there all the time at the border of my consciousness, but now without the distraction of anything to see outside, I became fully aware of it.
 
It was deep, far deeper than I could properly hear. It was a vibration in my bones that reminded me of a remote earthquake that never ended. At first it was just noise, but soon it took on a disquieting presence, an infrasonic hateful murmuring.
 
The bloodflow of a sleeping giant.
 
The capsule creaked. Before that there had just been occasional ticks as materials adjusted to different pressures and temperatures. This was something actually deforming. A sudden sway and I tensed. Sergeant Dr Pinoy, strapped into the seat next to me, looked up from her display and tried to calm me. “Relax: it is just normal. It will get a lot noisier further down.”
 
She was right. As we descended into the darkness the creaking got louder and the capsule swayed and shook. The giant was no longer sleeping, but restlessly tossing in bed. Our microscopic craft, hung from a spider thread across the wild sky, jumped and danced as gusts of hydrogen hit it.
 
Then the lightening began. At first I just noticed diffuse red flashes. Then everything turned into pink brilliance, and the noise rose to a roar: the giant was awake and angry. He wanted to kill me personally.
 

 
Two hours later, we were still descending through the murk. The worst shaking and lightening had stopped but I could feel it strumming the cable holding the capsule. After the initial panic I had settled down into a state of constant readiness for instant, dramatic death – a death that never came. By now I was just numb and exhausted.
 
Suddenly Sergeant Dr Pinoy looked out and pointed: “We are here!” It was hard to make out in the reddish gloom but I got an impression of something black and irregular. A coral reef. Or maybe a torture implement for murderous giants.
 

 
She turned to me; “Sergeant Labonne, welcome to Indigo Latitude.”
 
“As you will discover, there are things more frightening and glorious than the weather down here.”

(have you been binging borderlands?)

_{(narrated by my character “Rameshvara” used in the Frontiers & Pioneers thread. ^{- ω-})}
 
“Ya lookin’ broke, scuffed, and wack as all hell? Then check this out.‘’
 
“In today’s episode, of-” [ ♫ ]
 

 
“I got myself all decked out in fleek here, with the following:”
 
“Smart-Skin bodysuit, form-fitted and adjusted for maximum comfort, protection, and status.’’
 
“Dragon skin ballistic vest, size M, male, ceramic plates removed for pocket functionality. Ceradyne khaki armorpants, also with no plates, size sumthin’, I forgot. This shit tho got pockets for days, no more fumbling around for your nootropics.
 
“Zero-g slipper, white, right paw, cuz I lost the other one. Gucci geckotech space-boot, red, left paw; again, I only found one of these, because, they keep slipping off every time I flee from a fight. Colony-issue daypack, small, what else? Ya need reliable storage for gear, which for me is currently a bunch of sharp string, some fancy origami paper, and a solid block of normal-looking steel ready to explode at the slightest micro-aggression; everything I need to make… whatever it is I’m making…” _{^>__>}
 
“Myomer entanglement pistol; battery-rechargeable, nonlethal, and stops anything in its tracks.”
 
“I also used to strap a micro-missile rifle. Used to have lots of conversations about life with it, but unfortunately, I set the thing down on a square of dissassembler-film without paying attention at one point, and unfortunately, recycled it down to a bunch of blocks of rare metals…” _{^.__.}
 
“Cornucopia machine, blueprint by Nanosys Inc, with a full anarchist’s cookbook archived. Great for cooking smart drugs, and explosives. Nonrationed cubane sells for over 600 Kronor a gram behind the hardware store, that’s more than the same weight in pure gold, and all I have to do is keep throwing some bleach and pencil lead into my desktop fabber… It’s no joke.”
 
“That’s my grind, my big hustle on the side, and how I can afford all of my primo luxuries.”
 

 
[ ♫ ]  
“Speakin’ of primo luxury, I got a ride. I got transport. Off-road, fully-functional, chainsaw drive…”
 

 
“I pilfered a freight sled from New Scandia’s motorpool, then rigged icesaws to the manipulator-arms.”
 
“Plenty of cargo storage? You betcha. It delivers the racks, that helps me…”
 
“bring in the stacks.”
 

 
This is no mere improvised jalopy, but a goddamn chariot, fit for a prestigious shark of science.”
 
“So don’t mess with me, because if you do,”
 
 
“I’m gonna run away…”
 
“Play hard, live hard, and you could look this good, because outwardly appearance, reflects inner state of mind…”
 
“You wanna keep the laboratory?”
 

 
“…You act like you own the laboratory.” 😎

 
_{^{( https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/543014464056721414/751476246239772852/art_bracewell_probe.png )}}
 
“I was still young back then, not even a century old. My birth-species shifted between gregarious and solitary stages. Once I had reached into late adolescence, my creche disbanded. I traveled across the cosmos much. I would hitchhike rides on survey probes journeying to unexplored systems. They’d construct a body for me on landing, and as long as I never interfered with their work or the environment too heavily, they would leave me alone.”
 
“At one time, I had crossed an entire ocean to get to a polar continent. Once at the base of a jagged cliff, I pulled my body into itself, shifting vital organs into a sequestered protective pouch. Arrays of tendrils and sensory-bulbs budded all over myself, my memory unpacked the cognition needed to apprehend the view now all around me. With bristling microscopic fibers grown from my limbs, I effortlessly scaled up the cliff.”
 
“In but a short moment I was perched atop the summit, a splayed mass of fleshy tentacles. It was terribly frigid so high and northward; as the cold began to burn, I formed a layer of airblasted gel across my skin. My body now insulated from the inclement climate, I set about exploring althroughout the land before me.”
 
 
_{^{( https://i.pinimg.com/originals/8e/10/1e/8e101efd9d23c1f500303644e3dafc1a.jpg )}}
 
“In two relative days, I reached the place that spurred me to venture so far. The longest chain of mountains on this world loomed ahead of me, zigzagging all across as the crown of the celestial body. I planned to trek around it, and throughout the surrounding swamps below, a homage to my earliest ancestors. Those of singular bodies and minds, who trekked across the homeworld despite its dangers.”
 
“I would however have to acclimate; this world only hosts the hardiest of life. The tectonics are nearly dead, the orbited star has drifted too far away now to keep large bodies of water fluid for long. In another hundred millennia it would all turn to ice.”
 
“More urgently concerning for myself was the scarcity of energy sources. I had earlier circled the entire equator merely by every once and again sunbathing during the day, drawing lightrays for power. So far north, I would be unable to rely on solar power for much longer. In a relative month, the arctic circle would enter a prolonged dark period, as this far side of the globe would go into its long winter.’’
 

 
“I could’ve backtracked to the sea, stuck myself down into shallow waters, then grown gills like a sessile filterfeeder to slowly gather up the meager fissile elements in the water. To collect enough to make radiothermal marrow though would take this entire winter, then the following one.”
 
“I chose instead to soak up as much solar energy as possible, then rely on frigid-climate augmentations while rationing my power reserve. Back atop the first mountain peak I sprawled into a thin kudzu of vines, blackened to absorb almost every captured photon.”
 
“I mutated some of my mass into glands that produced crops of super-conductive crystal. Once a harvest of crystals was ripely shaped as a loop, fungal-like filaments weaved jackets of carbon nanotubes around them. Nerve fibers grew over the supercapacitor-discs, inflating each of them with energy, then maturing into cables to later route electricity as needed to power-converting organs. Waste would be turned into chemical fuel, synthesized by implants powered by my new solenoid powercell bank.”
 

 
“When this world’s sun fell below the horizon for the last time till next spring, I had made over thirty solenoid-discs of near-matching sizes. I stacked them into a column, bound by strong ligaments, then plastered myself around this makeshift spine.”
 
“From my new form sprouted an array of limbs; dozens of legs and small wiry arms for occasionally grazing on rare pockets of lichen found beneath the snow, and two long blade-like limbs for catching and rending mid-size native fauna. Mounted atop this form was a long-snouted sensory dome, inside which I concentrated my processing medium within the most.”
 
“The smaller delicate limbs grew manipulating pincers at their ends. Nestled on both sides under my head-plate grew a set of eyes, olfactory organs, and separate orifices for breathing and intaking chemical fuel. Reflexes and innate behavior suitable to this form unpacked within my consciousness.”
 
“I extended the mandibles around the ‘eating’ orifice of my head to expose smaller incising crusations… As the transformation completed, a thick supporting shell hardened across my body.”
 
 
_{^{( https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DtIljSDVsAIyn5N.jpg )}}
 
“My eyes may see far better in this world’s darkness, my body’s chemistry runs flawlessly, and my shell is an insulating plastic rather than chitin. But my progenitors would never have survived on this world, which is why I tread it for them.”
 
 
_{(V) (’ ^• •mm• ^•’) (V)}

[ SFX / ♬ ^{%(right-click Youtube video then select Loop)%} ]  
Somewhere within the subterranean hive-tunnels, beneath New Scandia’s outlying black-site laboratory…
 

 

 
“So I dunno, she was like, ‘move these hellcubes to the basement, cuz I got these drapes’.” sigh. “I don’t even get that, I’m like, ‘honey, this is work’.”
 
 
“Are you serious?”
 
 
“I can’t-yeah, I can’t put’em in the friggin’ basement, I mean…” sigh. “So I say, ‘fine, I’ll do it, I’ll put’em in the basement’, I started taking’em down, y’know, and I’m moving them one at a time,”
 
 
“Heh-right right,”
 
 
“Right? and I’m just kinda waitin’ to see what she does, I wanna see how she’s gonna react to it,”
 
 
“Yeah,”
 
 
“And she’s like, ‘y’know, can you put a tarp over’em also?’”
 
 
“Awww, no way…”
 
 
“And I just felt like, no, I’m not… dammit, I’m not gonna put a friggin’ tarp over these things,”
 
 
“Ramm Γ, that’s your mindflaying collection dude, I mean, that’s your thing…”
 
 
“I know it’s my mindflaying collection, I… worked hard to make these things, I work hard to maintain’em, but fine, fine, I’ll put’em in the basement, let’s put’em in the basement, but why cover’em? What is the point of covering them, if you’re gonna display them? If I can’t display them up top, I’ll put’em in the basement and display them, but then put a tarp? No friggin’ way. Absolutely friggin’ not.”
 
 
“Right on, dude, right on.”
 
 
“Yesterday, this is the other thing that friggin’ killed me; She’s been on me for months, right, to do something about the ceiling, cuz it is… nasty, and I offered to cover it in synthblood, and she’s like, ‘no, what are you, crazy?’ I was like, ’no? Solution; here’s the problem, this is what I wanna do’. Lemme cover the ceiling in synthblood, let’s just get this friggin’ over with.”
 
 
“Yeah, so if it’s not one thing, then it’s the next thing, y’know, and everything’s gotta go her way, I-yeah, I got one at home just like her, dude. Yeah,” sniff. “and we recently merged, so we got a kid now, and so,”
 
 
“Well, that’s a whole other set of crap, I’m sure.”
 
 
“Right? So Cais Θ puts the simulspace-server hosting our kid right next to my preserved synthbrain collection too, cuz I got the same thing you, I got, y’know, I’ve got collectibles at home, and she wants me to move’em cuz she thinks they’re not hygienic. Y’know, cuz there’s synthbrains in jars, with preservative oils an’, she doesn’t want the server sitting right next to that, cuz she thinks, ‘oh, it might be harmful’, but they’re all on a shelf, which I built,”
 
 
“Of course, and it’s solid, and it’s sturdy, and nothing’s gonna happen, but they don’t wanna hear it, cuz they’re worried about synthbrain oil getting spilled on the simulspace server hosting the baby.”
 
 
“So here’s what I say; ‘move the server to the other side of the maintenance-pool.’ ‘No, because, one side of the maintenance-pool gets more light.’ Well, that’s why I put my synthbrain collection there, because it gets more light. So then just, ‘okay, I’ll move the maintenance-pool?’ ‘No, I need that, and everything else right where-’”
 
 
“Thing that I don’t agr… Ramm Δ, really, the thing that bugs me about that, is that, I don’t understand how there’s such a lack of appreciation for that backlight coming through the glass of the jars the synthbrains are in, and it just looks cool.”
 
 
“You’ve seen that?”
 
 
“Yeah, well I saw when you were setting up, I was like, ‘this is really friggin’ cool’,”
 
 
“I’m not moving that, cuz I built the whole unit.”
 
 
“Why move it? That’s the point of putting it next to the window, and I’m sure you’ve explained that to Cais Θ, but she just doesn’t get it.”
 
 
“I just wanna move the maintenance-pool, but I can’t even debate with her on it.”
 
 
“Ridiculous, I know dude…”

 
Comet Running, by Anders Sandberg
 
Doing a comet run is a mixture of luck, opted hardware and some limited skill. In space everything is either immobile or fast enough to kill you, and near an active comet there is so much going on that no predictive software and sensors can fully keep track of it. Still, being nimble and prescient helps reduce the chance of death from certain to merely large.
 
There is plenty of old-fashioned macho aesthetics to it. It would be trivial to sleeve into a heavy metal penetrator and just railgun into the comet - so there is no point to it. Human-sized morphs, EVA bikes (often fitted out to look like motorbikes - remember those?) and no excessive armour. Plenty of opinions about whether synthmorphs are cheating or not, but in my book their higher acceleration tolerance is outweighed by the extra care biomorph owners show with their bodies.
 

 
Finding the right comet is also a bit of an art. Fresh long-periodic comets look grand, but are fairly “clean”: mostly ice, with a gradual evaporation that makes the run uneventful. Except when they do have an unexpected eruption - suddenly you find yourself surrounded by tumbling pure icebergs in a white mist. Nothing like it. Jupiter or Halley family ones are far less visual, but the crustiness makes for some challenging navigation. The organisers typically aim for having the run just after a big eruption or even better a breakup.
 
Some of my best experiences have been just off Jupiter, with tidal shearing turning the coma into a labyrinth of shards. And once I did a sungrazer: we honestly did not know if the core would make it, and if the winner would go down with it.
 
Seeing the corona through the flaming coma, photosphere reflected in sublimating ice…
 
 
_{[ a sungrazing comet ]}
 
we did not care whether we would live or die.
 
 
Suit up, boot up the control network, rev up your bike and wait for the organiser to signal (in our race the Nick detonates a plasma warhead). The first part is simple and boring - just getting close to the comet. You can accelerate a lot, but that will make the approach too dangerous. But you don’t want to hold back too much either - there is nothing worse than seeing the others far ahead. This is where you can start to see the personalities of your competitors.
 
Coma approach is just dodging dense clouds, avoiding getting hit by pebbles and abrasive ice. Mostly luck and not too interesting unless there is some odd space weather. Some strategizing for getting a good angle - it is at this point the jockeying for advantage really starts. Then things pick up as you approach the core. By now you need to slow down to avoid overshooting it, so getting shot by a pebble is less of a danger. Instead the icebergs start showing up, especially if it is a good breakup. It is at this point pure luck is replaced by skill, precognition and tech.
 
 
_{[ inside the tail of a comet ]}
 
There is no way of expressing what you are doing. It is not just dodging incoming projectiles and avoiding hitting tumbling blocks, but finding a path through the many dimensions of velocity, position, angle and fuel reserves as the comet throws surprise after surprise at you.
 
Some comets are fair - P/2087 Seung-Resnick seems remarkably regular - while others are black balls of maliciousness and bad luck. There is a reason why we speak in hushed tones of P/2018 Albeverio. It is not just respect to the people it has claimed - remember, this was the one that got Olivia Blitz for real - but because there is something downright intentional in how it is throwing everything it got at you. You dodge a curtain only to find yourself in front of a small reef of shards. You select a fast and clear approach, and just as you are committed to it there is a surface eruption filling it with the fastest and most fractious bergs you can imagine. A friend had his automation crash on approach and I know two people who have had their nano act up inside the coma: Albeverio is evil.
 
Finally you reach the core. If you have been lucky and skilled there is nobody ahead of you launching their victory flares.
 
 
_{[ 67P/Churyumov–Gerasimenko ]}
 
Just you and kilometres of pure comet. Land, crash or touch down. Enjoy the kiss of a conquered piece of heaven.

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