HELLBOUND Series: 3. "This"
Saturday, March 24, 2007

"Mal is having trouble remaining conscious on the journey to the Argent Penal Colony".



SUMMARY: "Mal is having trouble remaining conscious on the journey to the Argent Penal Colony." The usual disclaimers apply. The characters and 'Firefly' are the property and gift of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. No infringement of copyright is intended.


"Firefly" story

Written by Alison M. DOBELL

* * * * *

Mal drifted in and out of consciousness throughout the long journey to the Argent Penal Colony. Waking was a broad miasma of pain and bright relfections, his sight blurring and bouncing off the shiny chrome surfaces that assaulted eyes too swollen to open fully. It was all he needed to see to know he was on a rutting Alliance vessel. *Goushi*. He tried to remember how it had all gone south so quickly. Closing the narrow slit of his eyes was a blessed relief, the effort of opening them having exhausted him. Then he felt hands on him. Not the rough drag of hard fingers and still harder fists. This was stealthy and that stirred a part of his back brain that never slept.

"What'cha doin'?" He mumbled, voice low and rusty from lack of lubrication.

The hands slowed but did not stop. He must have drifted off again because the next thing he knew he could feel a slow slide of contact drawn across bare flesh. Skin on skin. It sparked off a whole army of little pains as all his cuts and bruises joined hands to have a party at his expense, only the hands weren't added to the tally. They were oddly soothing not yet erotic but near enough to key him in to their owner's intent. Mal realised he was naked. A groan squeezed out of his swollen lips. He had to stop this. Whatever *this* was. Then something wet slid warm and teasing down his chest, lingering and lapping at a nipple while a palm grazed the other one.

"Take your gorram hands off me!" He slurred, wishing he could move but the signals just didn't seem to be getting through from the brain. He opened his eyes a tiny crack but the light was like a laser burn and he shut them quickly.

Something that could have been light mocking laughter afflicted ears that were no shinier than the rest of his battered and bruised body. Then a warm mouth closed over his left nipple, teeth teased while the tongue lapped and the mouth sucked. His hissed as movement brought pain but at least the touch was gentle. His back brain was lulled into a sluggish acceptance that at least he would not die from this. Whatever *this* was.

He drifted again, waking to feel a stirring in his groin. The mouth working him so slowly while those hands kept his body warm as they played across his cooling skin. He wished he could open his eyes properly and keep them open long enough to see what manner or *hundan* was doing this to him. All he knew was that they were gorram accomplished and he was hardening inside that wicked mouth, the slide of the tongue tasting and teasing him, drawing precum from his salty slit which was licked and savoured with relish. A hand slid down to cradle his balls, rolling them gently between strokes of the sucking mouth working his shaft with such precision, drawing him to the cliff edge again and again with a pain touched ecstasy that was killing him. He groaned, frustration and need building beyond his control. The teasing did not stop but slowly intensified until he was weeping inside that gifted mouth.

Pain was a dull background noise blocked by the blood rushing in his ears, his breath catching in his throat as the suction intensified, the blood throbbing up his shaft as his balls tightened, hips jerked then froze as the dam broke. The warm walls hugging and embracing him as he came, carefully working and milking every drop out of him while the tongue caressed and explored every crease of him and fingers invaded his body to tease and stroke his prostate until he was flying in a dizzy shatter dragging a startled cry from his lips before darkness fell.

He awoke to find himself clothed again, shirt open. Gifted hands gliding over sweat oiled skin. Teasing gently but soothing his heart back into the rythym of life. An oddly caring gesture. He wanted to speak but his mouth was too dry. The hands paused. Firm thighs cradled his hips. No weight upon him. Almost a fussy concern not to add to his discomfort or injuries. That was his first clue. Something weighty brushed against his stomach. He knew they were moving, doing something above the waist that he could not see.

The silence punctuated only by their laboured breaths. Long slender fingers gently coaxed his swollen mouth open. Little stabs of pain told him his lips were splitting again. It was not blood though that trickled into his mouth. To his surprise it had a thin milky taste that stirred an ancient memory. He wished he could see. Something warm and fleshy filled his mouth and a hand stroked his throat urging him to swallow. That was when he knew his tormentor was female, the breast in his mouth filling him with mother's milk and ending his dry spell. Her hands teasing and petting him in soothing gestures encouraging him to suckle, feeling her pleasure in giving him this.

Only when he had drunk his fill did she slide off him. An odd reluctance in her movements or perhaps it was because she was so heavily pregnant? Gorramit if he knew. Had never been seduced by a pregnant woman before. It was later. Days perhaps. When the swelling in his face had gone down enough to allow vision to filter through that he beheld her for the first time. She was about his age and beautiful. Her head turned in a halo of golden hair as she lay on the hard cold metal deck of the large crowded cell beside him and smiled. He found himself smiling back and was thankful for this one perfect memory. Created in the most adverse and imperfect of conditions and offered to him like a gift. As long as he lived he would treasure this. Whatever *this* this.

* * * * *

CHINESE GLOSSARY: (Mandarin - Pinyin)

*goushi* = crap/dog shit *hundan* - asshole/bastard


Sunday, March 25, 2007 1:21 AM


Okay......I don't know what to think.....this was all kinds of creepy. A beaten and semiconscious Mal being sexually molested by a pregnant woman??? And getting off on it? Drinking breast milk?

I have to say I'm reserving judgement until we see what happens next.....but this one didn't quite sit right with me. Not because it was sexual in nature, but more because it was just plain creepy. Well written, but not something I quite wanted to read.

Sunday, March 25, 2007 3:50 PM


Uh...I'm with jetflair in the "WTF!?!" camp of perceiving this chapter, Ali. It's descriptive without being extreme in its graphic depictions of what's going on...emotionally telling without really explaining too much...and soddin' twisted like a piece of salt taffy! You are deliciously evil, my dear...;)

Really can't wait to see where the Mal portion of this tale goes. Cuz I am struggling to restrain over eager interest in why a pregnant woman got all kinds of Biblical will Mal and fed him some breast milk (though the latter is a whole lot less "Whoa..." inducing than the former).


Sunday, March 25, 2007 6:31 PM


This should all start making a different kind of sense as the rest of the story unfolds. Ali D :~)
You can't take the sky from me

Thursday, March 29, 2007 9:23 AM


Ummm Ummm...Sorry...But do have a powerful interest to read more.


You must log in to post comments.



His head still ached from the rutting probe but after the men had satisfied themselves that his story was true a thousand questions peppered the air like machine gun fire.

The vessel was shiny, sleek and black with nowhere near the bulk of an Alliance ship. Something about the way it moved through the Black was more than a little creepifying.

Personally she didn't care if Serenity was towed off to a junk yard and stripped into spare parts. She had promised the ship to Jer and his crew as a bonus but it looked like scavengers had beaten them to it.

UNFINISHED BUSINESS: 2. "Counting Chickens"
The fact that her eyes were hard and sharp with intelligence kind of chilled him. Smart women always made him uneasy, it just weren't natural.

What in the nine hells were they so afraid of? Then he remembered Tracy. The body mailed to them by their old war buddy and all the trouble that had brought down on them.

If it was too gorram wet to hunt for rabbits what in the nine hells was his son really hunting? And was it something on four legs or two?

The man was in a terrible condition, his pulse weak, and for some reason he was soaking wet which did nothing to staunch the blood soaking through his clothing and seeping from the poorly tended wound where he had been shot.

THE DICHOTOMY SERIES: 9. "All The King's Men"
The man sighed like the weight of the of the 'Verse was on his shoulders but unlike anyone else he looked like he could carry the weight.

THE DICHOTOMY SERIES: 8. "All The King's Horses"
Without warning something came through the opening and rolled with a metallic clang across the ground before exploding.

THE DICHOTOMY SERIES: 7. "Friend or Foe"
Then he found himself falling, the whole world silent as in slow motion the hordes of *diyu* came to swallow him up and everything disintegrated in fire, blood and pain.