HENTAI ALERT: R to NC-17 TYPE MATERIAL AHEAD. YOUR CONTINUED READING OF THIS PAGE IMPLIES THAT YOU CONSENT TO READ SMUT, AND THAT IT IS LEGAL TO DO SO FOR YOUR AGE AND IN YOUR PLACE OF RESIDENCE. DON'T SAY I DIDN'T WARN YA. :-)
[The following fevered writhings should be understood as an affectionate fair-use PARODY. All characters of the Lupin III franchise are the property of their original creator, Monkey Punch, for whose work I am forever grateful. Oh, and the lyrics quoted in the epigrams are the property of Donald Fagen and Walter Becker, for whose work I am also forever grateful. I earn nothing from these writings except entertainment value. Thanks, and carry on!]
Oh Michael Oh Jesus you know I'm not to blame
You know my reputation for playing a good clean game
Oh Michael Oh Jesus I'll keep my promise when
You turn that heartbeat over again
--Steely Dan, “Turn That Heartbeat Over Again”
It’s dark, and I’m disoriented. But oddly enough, I don’t feel as if I’m being crushed under a couple of tons of topsoil like I was just a second ago.
“Gotta hand it to you, boyo.” The voice is eerily familiar. “This is one spectacular cluster-fuck you've gotten yourself into this time.”
I can't quite make out the person addressing me. He's just a black silhouette—a tall slender figure, again oddly familiar. He’s backlit by a single bright white light shining into this otherwise lightless place ...
Oh shit.
“That's right, boyo. You've managed to land your skinny little ass in The Tunnel again. The one with the light in it ...” he jerks his thumb over his shoulder at it ... “and it very much is not a train. Third time for you in this incarnation, boyo. You're really pressing your famous luck, you know. Usually, three strikes means you’re outsky.”
“Incarnation?” I scramble to my feet. Or what feels like my feet. I'm not by nature a particularly religious or philosophical guy, so I don't sweat how it is that I can be embodied in this place. All I know, from the previous two run-ins with The Tunnel that my unidentified host has invoked so casually, is that this place is definitely for reals ... and that brightly-lit doorway into the next world is definitely for keeps.
“And who might you be?” My own voice sounds strangely attenuated in my ears—I hope to hell that doesn't mean I'm already past the point of no return.
“Who, me?” Even the way he cocks his head reminds me of something or someone, but I'm just too rattled to place it. “I am your lucky break, boyo. I'm the dude appointed by your crazy destiny to save your ass this time around.”
And then he steps forward so that the light more fully illuminates him, and ...
He's me.
Only with the voltage turned up. Way beyond what flesh and blood can contain. Even mine.
And oh yeah--he’s me, but with African features.
I can't help it. Even at the brink of death, even in the face of some dude who’s obviously a divine being--a dangerous-feeling dude who is sauntering ever nearer to me, wearing that smirk and raised eyebrow I know all too well … even with all this going on, I can’t help that I’m still me, so of course I start to giggle like a demented thing.
“Whoa, I look pretty damn good in black. I should try that some time. Hell, you even have better hair than me ... yikes!”
He has walked right on up to me, and has raised a hand to run his fingers through my own carefully-coiffed hair. It's not just the homoerotic personal-space violation that has made a chill shoot up my spine.
“Oh, you're no slouch in the 'do department yourself, boyo. Though you could stand to use a little less product.” He removes his hand from my hair, pulls a handkerchief from a pocket (damn! same pocket where I always keep my handkerchief, too!) and fastidiously wipes his hand off, surveying my discomfiture with an amused half-smile.
“So ...” I have to swallow hard to get the quaver out of my voice. “What's the deal, then? What do I have to do to get myself out of this place?”
“No deal required, dude. This is a freebie.” The smile broadens, the shoulders go up in that studied Gallic shrug I've done so many times. “You see, I was asked to be here, and you of all people should know that a true gentleman never turns down a lady's request.”
“Lola.”
“Ah. A pleasure dealing with a mortal as perceptive as yourself. Yes, your lady-love, in this moment of greatest peril, sent out a desperate cry for help ...”
“Oh dear God. Is she alright? What's happening to her? I've got to get back before--”
“Calm yourself, boyo. We are currently outside the stream of regular time—it's as if time is at a standstill in the mortal world. Though we can't stay this way for much longer before we need to pop back into the stream of reality and have at it.”
“So—you're going to just let me go back?”
“Not quite. I'm going to have to go with you. Because, if I sent you back on your own right now, in a few short seconds you'd be right back here, DOA.”
He waves his hand, and a little bubble forms in the darkness. I peer through this porthole into the living world, and find myself looking down at a frozen tableau in the construction site. Morningstar has managed to grab both Lola and Fujiko; Jigen, Goemon, and Nessa are charging him; Pops is struggling vainly against his bonds, a look of horror upon his face.
My doppelganger gestures at the caved-in side of the excavation pit. “Even if your allies immediately dropped what they are currently doing, and started digging through that pile of dirt, they would never reach you in time to prevent your death by asphyxiation. And even if they continue in their struggle, they will find themselves to be no match for this demon called the Morning Star – Lucifer – and will surely perish as well.”
“Wow. The Lucifer. Really.” Analyzing this situation is making me feel much more centered.
And then something else in the tableau catches my eye. “That bite in the side of the excavation pit from the cave-in. Such a perfect conic shape. Sure doesn’t look accidental. Am I right?”
“You got it.” He grins at me, teeth glittering like diamonds. “It had help. From the Morning Star, or his tools.”
“So he’s got the remaining Geo-Core prototype working … and is able to aim it tight enough to do something like that. Interesting.”
I pull myself together the rest of the way. “Okay. I think I’m ready to be sent back. But what does that mean when you say you'll go with me?”
“I think you know what it means. You saw Lola demonstrate the technique just a moment before your little accident. Spirit possession. I shall mount and ride you. You shall be my cheval.”
That chill up my spine again--only stronger and colder. “Well ... you've already told me what will happen if I say no. But ... what will happen to me if I say yes?”
“I won't lie to you,” he says with sudden seriousness. “It's going to be a rough ride. You've received no initiation, no training in these practices, and your physical body is frankly not in the best shape at the moment. Not to mention the fact that your temperament is uniquely unsuited to being run by someone else, even if it's for your own good.”
“You got that one right.” Every fiber of my being is rebelling at the thought of this. I'm literally quaking in my boots.
“But I promise you this—you will live to be glad that you underwent the ordeal you are about to face.” His eyes flash like strobes. “So what say you, Lupin of the many names and faces? Do you consent to this next passage of your journey?”
I calm myself by an effort of will, and give him my best outlaw smile. “I think you already know the answer to that. Friends and allies are in danger. I cannot do other than come to their rescue, no matter the risk to myself. Besides,” I shrug, “it’s not as if I have much of a choice here.”
He matches my smile. “Of all my children, I think you are destined to become my most favorite of all.”
With a look of almost fatherly tenderness on his face, he lays his hand upon my head again, cradling the back of my skull. Another icy electric jolt up my spine, even stronger than the one before.
“Just one question before we go,” I manage to gasp out. “You still haven’t told me who you are.”
“Who, me?” he says again, his face very close to mine, his smile the one I wear when I’m sitting on top of a million-dollar con, “Well, that’s a long complicated story. Too complicated to go into now. But I promise I will tell you that story later, at our leisure. And I reckon you will hear at least one of my names in very short order. Now, we go.”
And then he presses his lips upon mine.
He’s holding tight to my head so I can’t pull away. He’s forced his tongue deep into my mouth. That sensation of electric shock rattles my teeth, shoots through my optic nerves into my brain, lights up my entire nervous system like a Christmas tree. As the world spins and goes black again, I feel him slip inside my skin, and take over the controls.
***********
For a few claustrophobic seconds I’m back under the full weight of the cave-in--long enough to feel how little air I have left, and how close to death I am, or was. For in the very next moment the weight and the darkness begin to lift, as a little bubble of light and energy forms all around me.
The bubble expands until there’s enough room for me to sit up--except I can’t. My mind issues the commands and my body fails to respond.
Ah! You’re still conscious! Remarkable--most mortals would know nothing at this point. But remember--you are not in control right now. I’m riding you.
It’s true--I can now feel that my consciousness has taken a back seat in my brain, and my divine doppelganger is at the controls of my body. As he stands me up in the still-expanding bubble and stretches my cramped muscles, I find myself continuing to struggle, trying in vain to move even a finger contrary to how he’s moving it. It’s reminiscent of the frustration of riding in the back seat of a car, stomping by reflex on nonexistent brake and gas pedals while the driver does it differently from how you’d do it.
Meanwhile the bubble has started to fill with more and more energy, like a tank filling with high pressure gas. My rider is channeling the energy somehow--I can feel it, even if I can’t explain it--until suddenly the bubble pops, punching a tunnel up and out of the cave-in. We go hurtling up through that tunnel, propelled by the exploding energy--and then we’re up up and away, no rope or grapple gun needed, he’s flying me through the air with the greatest of ease. And even though I’m not at the controls I have to admit that it feels pretty damn fucking cool, man! Super Lupin! Ha ha!
All eyes turn to stare with astonishment at this spectacle of me, possessed, exploding out of the cave-in; a chorus of voices gasp out my name. Morningstar is so startled, he loosens his grip on Lola and Fujiko; both women, though also stunned, have the presence of mind to slip his grasp and run like hell. And in the next second, my rider has me upon him--he swoops me down, closing my hands around the man’s skinny throat.
My rider stands me there, atop the rubble, shaking Morningstar by the scruff of the neck like a rag doll. “Miscreant, demon, deceiver.” My voice has got enough reverb to wake the dead--which I guess is the point. “What do you mean, masquerading as one of my people’s sacred spirits?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” the demon hisses back at me/him/us. The dark glasses went flying when we shook him, revealing empty eye sockets in which burn sparks of brimstone.
“Tsk. It’s useless to talk to you anyway, demon of deception. So I simply bid you to release the remains of this poor abused cheval you have driven into the ground, and begone.”
My rider shakes Morningstar again. I feel energy well up from behind my eyes, radiate out of my eye sockets, and burn into those of Morningstar. The sulfurous flames extinguish; he groans and convulses in my/our grip; then, in a few moments, it’s over. The body previously occupied by Morningstar now hangs in my hands, limp and lifeless.
My rider has me lower this poor bastard’s dead body to the ground. My friends and allies approach, warily, eyes wide and faces pale.
“Lupin … ?” ventures Fujiko, sounding uncharacteristically unsure of herself.
“Not Lupin,” says Lola, “but a lwa, a spirit, in possession of Lupin’s body. But which spirit? Speak, o mystere, and identify yourself so that we may know how to address you.”
My rider draws me up to my full height, assuming a posture totally alien to me: shoulders back, arms extended palms-up, as if offering benediction to all these battle-weary stragglers.
“You are indeed perceptive, daughter of Erzulie; in your moment of distress, you did not specify who should come to your rescue, so you have gotten someone a little bigger than you bargained for. Know that I am no lwa, but an orisha from Mother Africa. I am Eleggua, he who opens the door. As I have opened the door for this cheval, bringing him back to the land of the living from the brink of the next world.”
Eleggua--who is that? My consciousness is now getting swamped by ever-higher waves of energy … I’m fighting to maintain a grip on this reality …
Eleggua touches my hand to my heart. “But I feel this cheval fighting more and more feverishly against his bridle. I must release him soon, before he ruins himself. Even so, he will need help in regaining full possession of his own body. Daughter of Erzulie, I trust you will provide him that help?”
“Yes, my lord.” Lola bows.
Eleggua takes her hand in mine, brings it to my lips to kiss. “Bless you, then, my child, and be sure to tell my cheval all that has transpired. Though true to his unique nature, he has heard and absorbed much more of my visit than most mortals are capable of. I go now. Farewell.
And then he gently lowers me into seiza posture, my head drooping onto my chest. I feel him depart, releasing control over my body.
But when I try and move under my own volition again … I can’t. I’m still trapped in the back seat of my own psyche, unable to re-take the driver’s seat. I have some slight control over my breath. But that’s it. Can’t so much as wiggle a finger or blink an eye. All I can do is make faint little gasping noises in the back of my throat.
“What--what’s wrong with him?” Fujiko, deeply agitated--goodness, she sounds like she’s about to burst into tears! Unfortunately, I can’t raise my head to see this spectacle.
“It’s as Eleggua said, he’s going to need help to fully return to his body.” It’s Lola speaking now. She swims into my line of sight, bringing her face close to mine. “Lupin, can you hear me?”
I make what little noise I can.
“Try not to fight it, love. We’ve got to get you someplace safe so I can work on you uninterrupted.”
“Shit! We got company!” It’s Jigen, in alarm mode. A moment later, I hear the approaching sirens.
Hands grab me. I’m unceremoniously slung over somebody’s shoulder--Goemon’s, it turns out, as I find my paralyzed face slapping against his keikogi-clad back. I can hear Tottsan’s anguished cries as I’m hustled into the back seat of the Dart--poor old Pops, he gets so upset when he sees me take damage. The car jostles on its shocks as the others jump in. Doors slam, engines rev--the Dart’s, plus a motorcycle that must be Fujiko’s ride. And as a squeal of tires and roar of horsepower bears me away, I finally exhaust myself from struggling with my unresponsive body and sink into unconsciousness.
********
I come to, lying on my back naked, apparently on a mattress or something soft, in a dimly lit room. I’m still paralyzed--in fact, I feel even worse than before, like my body has turned into a block of wood. I try my damnedest not to fight it and exhaust myself like I did before, but it’s damn difficult; being this helpless, this caged, is driving me absolutely nuts.
My breathing must have given away the fact that I’m now awake, because suddenly Lola’s face is close to mine. “Patience, dear heart,” she murmurs. “We will be starting the ritual to bring you back out in just a few moments.”
Ritual? What are you talking about? I want to ask. But all I can do is make faint wheezing noises. I’m really beginning to lose it here … I … Arrrg!!! I hate this! I hate it, I hate it, I hate it! Please get me the fuck out of here! Soon! Aaaaaah … !
“Hush, child.” Lola lays a cool hand on my forehead. Christ. Did she somehow overhear my little internal hissy fit just now? Shit. And I can’t even manage a blush of embarrassment.
I’m distracted from my funk by the sound of others entering the room, quietly and without speaking. I can smell Jigen’s cigarettes, and Fujiko’s perfume, and the faint scent of sandalwood that permeates Goemon’s clothes … and that aroma of leather might be Nessa. Hmmm. Good thing I’m not shy by nature.
A faint sound of drumming starts up--recorded, I’m assuming. Lola vanishes from my restricted field of vision; a moment later, I hear her voice from a position somewhere near my feet.
“Erzulie Freda, beautiful mam’zelle, be with me now as I revive this child of Eleggua, and bring him fully back from the land of the dead.”
Then the mattress creaks and jostles. I feel Lola’s knees between my legs … and her hand on my poor lifeless cock.
Wow. Yeah. So this is the ritual, huh? Yowza. Really good thing I’m not shy by nature. And Goemon’s staying in the room for this? I’m impressed.
And glory be, I feel it working. As Lola’s hand gently and patiently strokes my member, it gradually begins to thaw and come back to life. And then that awakening begins to spread outward in waves, slowly, slowly, from my genitals, down my legs, up my torso, outward to my arms and neck and face. My muscles come awake with little spastic jerks. My jaw unclenches and I gulp big gasping ragged breaths. I mutter inarticulately through still-numb lips. And then, as my cock springs fully to erect life, I blearily look up through unfocused eyes to see Lola, a nude Nubian Venus, straddle my hips and lower herself onto me.
And then that consummately talented vagina closes around my now rock-hard cock, and she proceeds to fuck me to an orgasm that radiates from my toenails to my crewcut and has me howling at the ceiling like my familial namesake.
“Okay,” I gasp, as Lola kisses me, wipes the sweat from my brow, and sits back on her haunches between my legs, “I think I’m awake now …”
“Lupin!” And suddenly Fujiko has flung herself on top of me and is kissing me feverishly. Yeah, nothing like my almost dying to remind Fujiko how much she really loves me. Too bad I’m still in way too crappy shape to take advantage of the situation.
I snatch a few glimpses around the room. Jigen’s got his arm around Nessa and a huge grin on his face--the old perv, I know how much he likes to watch. Nessa’s expression is inscrutable, almost trance-like--no doubt this was as much a religious ritual for her as for Lola. And there, by God, is poor Goemon, sitting in strict seiza in the farthest corner of the room, eyes tight shut, face blushing nearly purple--but damn, he stayed in the room. Somehow that little demonstration of loyalty makes me want to smile …
But instead I groan. Suddenly I’ve gotten hit with a whole world of hurt.
“Now that your body’s reawakened, you’re starting to feel all the injuries you sustained,” says Lola. Wow, ain’t that the truth. I must be head-to-toe bruises. I may have cracked a rib or two. I nearly black out … a moment later, I find myself curled up in fetal position, moaning despite myself. It’s a lot of freaking pain. But at least it’s normal, everyday, this-world pain. No pain in the land of the dead. I am very much back in the land of the living. Thank Eleggua. Or whoever the fuck he is …
Somebody, I’m losing track who, slaps a morphine dermal patch on my neck. I gratefully go back under once again.
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