Hot off the presses, Fresh from the fangirl farm, I give you Touching Tiffany: A Pax Titanus Fanfiction.
I know I have been really hyping Pax Titanus by Tom Lucas, and I’ll openly admit to being a super fangirl of this far-too under the radar piece- but there’s something to say when I go to the time to not only write a piece of fanfiction (Which, mind you, I haven’t done since my Harry Potter days- and n I’m not disclosing how long ago that was), but actually subject myself, and all of you, to a cover for the story.
I had a lot f fun writing this piece and delving into humor rather than my niche of drama. Tm was a great help in a few places, though the questions I asked didn’t all make it into the final release of the story. I really look forward to the hopeful expansion of Tom’s universe.
So, without further ado, I offer you the very short story of a once enchanted sword who traveled through space, time, and multiple forms to find the perfect body just for her.
Warning: This story contains adult language and themes.
Touching Tiffany: A Pax Titanus Fanfiction
Feruzeel cursed as the back of his head met the underside of the workbench.
“Fuck, fuck-fuck.” He grumbled as he rubbed his knotted mane, the twisted locks a hue of not-quite-clean and a-little-bit-moldy. He scratched at the stubble of a twelve-and-a-half day beard as he flopped into a musty de-arm chair, careful to avoid the grasping restraints that hungrily tried to devour his limbs.
“Fuck, gotta get rid of this thing.”
“And that thing too.”
That thing bounced in front of a mirror, showing not a thread of decency as her bared bits and baubles tested the laws of physics and gravity with attention snatching grandeur.
“Look at these tits!”
“And this ass!”
“Aren’t they great!”
“They better be after everything we went through to get them.”
The brunette pouted brilliantly as she turned to the haphazard wizard, her hands firmly on decadently wide hips, “Well, we wouldn’t have had to go through all of it if you had just done the incantation right the first time.”
“It’s not like those spells come with instructions. Well, actually, they do, but they cost a soul, and I already traded mine in.”
“The retrieval of all the mis-matched socks from the Lint Abyss. Total rip-off. I still didn’t find the one I was looking for.”
“So you are telling me that I had a dick for three days because you couldn’t find a sock?”
Feruzeel shrugged, “Hey, you didn’t seem to mind when you were playing with it like it was the last penis in the history of masturbation.”
“Of course I played with it,you’ve had yours your entire life, and you still play with it.!”
“Some has to, besides, I don’t do it for 72 hours straight.”
“It wasn’t 72 hours.”
“That’s right, you took a break when you were fuckin’ the Vulvanian whores.”
Tiffany smirked and shrugged, “Hey, who am I to keep somethin’ that nice all to myself? Besides, it was nice to be home.” She fluffed her silky locks, preening in the mirror again. “Fine, fine, maybe being male wasn’t so bad, but what about that stint as a Spindel.”
“Those eight legs saved your skin.”
“They almost got me fried! On a spit! Did you see that mangled half-pint with the pinprick he called a sword? He sure wasn’t compensating for anything.”
“You did try to eat him.”
“I did not,” Tiffany flashed her indignant golden gaze at the lounging lump, “I tried to nibble him.”
Feruzeel snorted. Tiffany stalked around the rotting worktable, one perfectly manicured hand on her hip, the other sliding down her slightly soft belly.
“I’ll stab you.”
“You’re not that sharp anymore.” He smirked as her eyes narrowed. Tiffany leaned over the magical mope, resting a hand perilously close to a toothy restraint.
Feruzeel found it painfully difficult to look away from her glimmering lips as she spoke, runny her tongue over the pouty petals, “I don’t need to be, anymore.”
A cough preceded his hoarse reply, “Weren’t we just… discussing my many magical failures?”
Tiffany grinned, dragging a finger down his chest, “Mmm, well if that’s what gets you going, we can discuss my stint as the sock monkey.”
“The wet towel of infancy.”
Tiffany’s chin dipped and rose in an affirmative, her lips brushing her aroused antagonist’s cruelly. His tongue flickered against hers in time with the twitch in his trousers, only to have the tasty morsel escape half a second later.
As she turned away with a smirk, Feruzeel caught sight of the growing seal just above her perfectly shaped ass. The mark would tie her soul to her new body, and his dimension. For a moment, he let himself indulge in a series of escalating fantasies, imagining the many ways he could add his own touch to the scrolling rune. It wasn’t like she hadn’t earned a spanking or three or, perhaps, a conversation with his belt. Yes, a few welts, he thought, a little flush to compliment the inky black. Enduring another twitch, he followed her, pressing against her back.
“Ohh, getting friendly, are we.”
Feruzeel brushed a handful of hair over her shoulder, surprisingly calloused hands dragging over her skin, “You could have been a flesh-eater.”
“Yuck! No thanks. I’m not into Low Cuisine. I don’t care how nicely you plate it, rotting flesh is rotting flesh.”
“What about a Glob?”
“Amorphous… Asexual… A no.”
“I wouldn’t have minded Veritassian.”
“Someone has a crush on a dead man.”
“Corpses need love too, baby.”
“I like my bedmates breathing.”
“You didn’t seem to mind the anal-automoton.”
“Mmm, this body is much warmer than that one.”
With a tilt of her head, Tiffany closed her eyes, reveling in the sensation of teeth against skin, “Softer, too.”
Feruzeel grasped a handful of flesh, “Can’t shoot darts out of your tits, either.”
“Mmm, I might miss that.”
He chuckled at the mischievous tone, “But now you have the advantage of self-lubrication.”
“There is a pot of gold…”
“Are you going to miss your original form?” Feruzeel took the edge off of the question by sinking his teeth into a mouthful of shoulder, giving an appreciative growl at her yelp as he flicked his tongue over the damaged flesh.
“I’ll miss watching.”
“You never told me how you got from one dimension to the other.” His lips trailed up her neck, towards an each, which he pleasantly nipped.
“Rule of three.”
“Rule of what?” He traced the edge of her ear with the tip of his tongue, amused as she shuddered in response.
“Tits was the third in his dimension to wield me. The moment he lost me, I shifted through time and space.” Her breath caught as Feruzeel’s nails drew blood just above the flat plane that led to her heated core. His hand trailed further down.
Feruzeel chuckled gruffly.
“Don’t scratch the new paint job.”
“You’re getting off track.”
“I don’t need instructions this time.”
“But we didn’t even get to-” she was cut off as he jerked behind her, a gasp following. “Funny, I’m not used to being the sheath.”
“Don’t panic, but… I’m stuck.”