Her front teeth have yet to grow so Kris did not need to worry about her teeth scraping his cock. He held her neck as Noelle massaged his dick with her tongue. His dick had filled her entire mouth but he didn't care whether she choked or not.
The feeling was exhilarating and he continued to drive it slowly down her throat. He grabbed her antlers, giving him more balance as he rode in faster. Kris kept on staring at Noelle's face as he drove in slowly. She covered his dick with a lot of saliva and it served as a lubricant for his dick.
Kris was very rough with Noelle as he drove in faster. He continued to face fuck her faster and faster, climbing many rifts and lows, hills and valleys as he moved forward and backward into her mouth.
Noelle was disgusted at what Kris was doing. She hated it with every bit of her but she felt so helpless and she didn't know what to do next. Kris forced his dick deeper into Noelle's mouth, moaning gently and holding on tightly to her antlers. All of a sudden, the familiar feeling returned.
He pushed harder, as Noelle groaned in pain. She was suffering from the force of his thrust. Kris groaned loudly and forced a stream of semen down her throat. Noelle didn't have a chance to refuse as she downed it all. He then proceeded to spray it all over her face and crashed again to the couch.
He was not used to the feeling and was easily exhausted. He loved it. He loved the feeling it brought. He loved the excitement and ecstasy. He felt like doing this every day for the rest of his life. He started at Noelle again. She was a sweet and timid girl. He could go all day having sex with her, but his body had its limits. Noelle still sat on the floor.
She had been crying all night. Her entire body hurt from the abuse. She felt used. Her nine-year-old mind couldn't effectively process the gravity of the act but she felt ashamed nonetheless.
She had stopped fighting. She didn't have any strength left as she sat quietly on the floor, wondering what was going to happen next. Kris was beaten. He sat on the floor exhausted. It was already the late hours of the night and he needed to get some rest. He had jerked off twice in one night and he was already beginning to feel the exhaustion creep slowly into his mind.
She was still coiled up on the floor, sobbing softly. She just wanted to go home. Before this, she had spent several sleepovers with Kris but he had never tried to forcefully have sex with her. She would never have guessed. She shifted her gaze to Kris' face and she could see the urgency in his eyes. She swallowed hard. If she told him No, she wasn't sure what he was going to do. What was she going to do after this? She was still lost in thoughts when Kris rose from the couch and commanded her to go to the bedroom.
She was lost for words. She wanted to refuse but fear clouded her thoughts. Noelle nodded in obedience, rising to her feet and staggering towards the bedroom. It seemed like an endless night and she wanted it to end.
It was all real. Kris stared at her ass dance from behind as she strolled into the bedroom, her tail, standing high and erect above her pussy. His mind wanted to grab Noelle again and slam his cock into her pussy but his body rejected his request. He was exhausted and he needed some sleep.
Kris proceeded into the bathroom and retrieved her clothes which were now a bit dry. He knew she was going to need it the next day so he had placed it under heat. He returned to his bedroom and tossed them back to her and he stared intently as she put them all on.
He could feel similar sensations that he had felt all night and he wanted to wrap himself around her body again. He couldn't understand what he was doing too but he was certain about one thing. He loved the heat and sweat. He loved to see his massive boner. He loved Noelle's cutely innocent face, her tight butt, soft fur, and her adorable tail.
But most of all he loved seeing Noelle suffer. He knew he was going to keep doing this. It was the best feeling of his life and he wanted to explore more. He stared at Noelle and noticed that she had already crashed on the bed and had fallen asleep under his blanket.
He joined her under the blanket and pulled her closer to him as they both lay sideways, his dick against her pussy with just the fabric of her skirt. She didn't wake up though and he soon fell asleep too. He gave a loud yawn and took a quick glimpse around. His gaze stopped when he arrived at Noelle's skirt.
The blanket had moved and her flowy skirt revealed her innocent pussy under her cute panties. His strength had returned and it soon manifested as a massive erection.
He stared at Noelle who was still sleeping peacefully as his urge grew by every second. He grabbed his dick and began to massage it slowly. He didn't feel satisfied enough. He then proceeded to pull down her skirt, immediately slotting his massive stick into her hole.
He drifted in slowly before Kris proceeded to increase his pace. It felt like heaven in a million places. Noelle awoke to the familiar feeling. Kris was fucking her again. His lips were all over her tits as he sucked them with increasing want.
One of his hands, massaging her pussy as he slid in faster and the other, choking her throat as he propelled his dick steadily into her tight pussy. Noelle began to scream once again but this time, her screams were much louder. It seemed as though the pain had doubled. Kris quickly wrapped his hands above her mouth to shut her screams as he pounded faster. He decided to try out a few of his fantasies. He threw Noelle on her back and slid into her pussy with her legs raised high.
During her examination, Magistrate John Hathorne aggressively questioned Easty, or more accurately, tried to lead her to a confession by the following line of questioning:. I will say it, if it was my last time, I am clear of this sin. In a surprising moment, Hathorne, clearly affected by the convincing manner with which Easty spoke, turned to the accusers and asked, "Are you certain this is the woman? Hathorne was now convinced and imprisoned Easty.
The girls, however, seemed not to be fully convinced of their own accusations. Perhaps due to pressure from community around Easty, all of the accusers, except Mercy Lewis, began to back off their claims and Easty was released from jail on May The details of what happened next provide undeniable clues about the power of the accusers and the impossibility of conducting a fair juridical process.
After Easty's release, Mercy Lewis fell into violent fits and appeared to be approaching death. Mercy Lewis later explained that Easty was tormenting her, and "said [Easty] would kill [Lewis] before midnight because she did not cleare hir so as the Rest did. Along the path to the Mercy's house, Ann and Abigail explained that they saw Easty's specter tormenting Mercy, strongly suggesting a collaboration effort had already taken place before Mercy began her torments.
Frances Hill in A Delusion of Satan calls this episode a propaganda scheme to show doubting Villagers the dire consequences of freeing witches from jail.
Mercy and four others cried out against Easty on May Mercy's fits did not cease until Easty was back in prison in irons demonstrating the effective power of the accusers. While Easty remained in jail awaiting her September 9 trial, she and her sister, Sarah Cloyce, composed a petition to the magistrates in which they asked, in essence, for a fair trial. They complained that they were "neither able to plead our owne cause, nor is councell allowed.
Easty hoped her good reputation in Topsfield and the words of her minister might aid her case in Salem, a town of strangers. Lastly, the sisters asked that the testimony of accusers and other "witches" be dismissed considering it was predominantly spectral evidence that lacked legality.
Salem Witchcraft Papers, I: The sisters hoped that the judges would be forced to weigh solid character testimony against ambiguous spectral evidence. The petition did not change the outcome of Easty's trial, for she was condemned to hang on September 17th. But together with her second petition, Easty had forced the court to consider its flaws.
Easty's second petition was written not as a last attempt to save her own life but as a plea that "no more innocent blood may be shed. If they were able to give similar credible accounts of their spectral experiences then any doubt would be removed as to the guilt or innocence of the person on trial. This proposal brings to mind Thomas Brattle's observation in his famous Letter of October 8, that the accusers, when not claiming to be attacked by specters, were otherwise in good health.
Easty was obviously not the only skeptic of the accusers' spectral torments. Secondly, Easty proposed that all confessing witches be brought to trial as well as those confessing innocence. Rosenthal writes in A Salem Story that in an atmosphere of rising doubt, "for the court to ignore Easty's challenge would be to acknowledge to the critics that the proceedings were fatally flawed - that the hunt was not really for witches after all but for validating the court.
Easty was hanged on September 22, Her demeanor at Gallows Hill is documented by Calef: "when she took her last farewell of her husband, children and friends, was, as is reported by them present, as serious, religious, distinct, and affectionate as could well be exprest, drawing tears from the eyes of almost all present.
Sarah Good was born to a prosperous innkeeper in However, her father's estate became entangled in litigation leaving Sarah Good in poverty. After the death of her first husband, she married William Good.
The Goods lived a life of begging and poverty in Salem Village. Sarah was regarded as an unsavory person and has come to be regarded through literature as the stereotypical witch, a disreputable old hag. Good was among the first three women accused of witchcraft in and was the first to testify. She never confessed guilt, but, like Tituba, she did accuse Sarah Osburne, an act that was credited with validating the witchcraft trials and accusations.
Good was hanged as a witch on Tuesday July 19, , but not until after the imprisonment of her six year old child Dorcas, also accused of witchcraft, and the tragic death of her infant in prison. Sarah Good was born in to a well off innkeeper named John Solart. However, her father's estate was tied up in litigation that left Good virtually nothing.
Her first marriage was to a poor indentured servant named Daniel Poole who died in debt in Her second marriage to William Good was doomed from the outset because the couple had to pay for the debts of first husband Poole. The Goods were homeless, renting rooms in other people's houses, and they had two young children. William worked as a laborer around Salem Village in exchange for food and lodging, but it became increasingly difficult for the family to find a place to stay as Sarah's reputation for and being socially unpleasant spread throughout the town.
The family was regarded as a nuisance to the town, and by they were virtually beggars. Good's position as a disreputable and marginal member of society made her a perfect candidate for witchcraft accusations. The three were accused initially of afflicting Betty Parris and Abigail Williams, and later many other accusers came forward to testify about injurious actions and spectral evidence against Good. Good was the first to testify in the Salem Witchcraft trials, and Bernard Rosenthal in Salem Story asserts that Good was specifically chosen to start the trials off because most people were in support of ridding Salem Village of her presence.
Even her six-year-old daughter Dorcas was frightened into testifying against her, and although her husband did not call her a witch, he said that he, too, had reason to believe she was close to becoming one, thus, perhaps, protecting himself from accusation. One of Good's trial records quotes William Good as saying, "it was her bad carriage to [me] and indeed say I with tears that she is enemy to all good. When Hathorne in the pre-trial hearings asked, "Why do you hurt these children?
I scorn it. Although Good never confessed, she did accuse Sarah Osborne of afflicting the girls after witnessing the accusers fall down in fits in the courtroom. Historians generally agree that this accusation by Good was one of the first and strongest legitimizations of the witchcraft trials. Only one person came forth to defend Good. When one of the girls accused Good of stabbing her with a knife and produced a broken knife tip to prove it, a man came forward showing that it was his knife from which the tip had been broken in the presence of the accusing girl.
Far from invalidating the girl's testimony against Good, Judge Stoughton simply asked the girl to continue with her accusations with a reminder to stick to the facts. Good was condemned to hang but was pardoned until the birth of her child. Her daughter Dorcas was accused of witchery and was imprisoned for over seven months. Although the child of six years was eventually released on bond, she was psychologically damaged for the rest of her life.
Good's infant died in prison with her before Good was hanged. Her execution occurred on Tuesday July 19, According to local tradition, when Good stood at the gallows prepared to die she was asked once more by Rev. Nicholas Noyes, assistant minister in the Salem church, to confess and thus save her immortal soul.
Far from confessing, Good is said to have screamed, "You're a liar! I'm no more a witch than you are a wizard! If you take my life away, God will give you blood to drink!
The way in which Good has been portrayed in literature is worth mentioning because it sheds light upon how the Salem Witch Trials have been popularly imagined and how the accused witches were and are viewed today. Good is always depicted as an old hag with white hair and wrinkled skin. She is often said to be sixty or seventy years of age by the same writers who clearly state that she was pregnant and had a six-year-old daughter. Even accounts from Salem Villagers and magistrates at the time refer to her as an old nuisance, hag, and bed-ridden.
How did such a misconception arise? Perhaps her hard life did have such a physical effect on Good that she did appear extremely aged. On the other hand, witches are described in literature then and now as being old wicked women. If Good was to represent the typical witch worthy of execution, then it is not surprising that all of the stereotypes would be accordingly attached.
Good was a marginal woman and no doubt a nuisance to her neighbors. However, the Salem trials were conducted unfairly, with a presumption of guilt, and little evidence. Marginality is not worthy of hanging, and Good was never proved to be nor did she confess to be a witch. Boyer, Paul and Stephen Nissenbaum. Karlson, Carol. New York: W. Norton, Rosenthal, Bernard.
Salem Story: Reading the Witch Trials of Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, George Jacobs, Sr. He was accused, among many others, by his granddaughter, Margaret Jacobs who was also accused and imprisoned.
Depending on scholarly opinion, he has been seen as the victim of personal grudges, the casualty of the socio-political climate of Salem, or the target of cultural system's effects on young, socially subordinate women. This well-known, dramatic painting by New York artist Thompkins. Matteson, was painted in Ripley and Charles A. Detail Source Oil painting. The painting depicts the trial of George Jacobs, Sr. The scene is an imaginary one, as no records of the actual trial exist, and it its not known who was present at Jacobs' trial on August 5th.
The inspiration for the painting comes from two moving documents written by 17year-old Margaret Jacobs: "Margaret Jacobs to her Father" and "Recantation of Margaret Jacobs. In addition to the officials of the court, Matteson portrays several members of the George Jacobs family who became caught up in the witchcraft accusations in Salem Village.
Kneeling in the foreground is the white haired, 72 year-old George Jacobs, Sr. At the center of the picture, pointing her finger directly at Jacobs, is his granddaughter Margaret Jacobs. Urged to confess to witchcraft to save her life, she accused her grandfather among others who had already been accused. The distraught figure lunging towards Margaret is her mother Rebecca Jacobs, who was said to have been mentally deranged at the time.
She, too, was accused of witchcraft. Standing next to George Jacobs, Sr. In the foreground, Matteson places a young man and a girl suffering from "fits," caused by George Jacobs senior's invisible "specter. The black robed magistrates are shown at the bench, with the chief magistrate, William Stoughton, towing over the commotion caused by Margaret's accusation of her grandfather.
One of the magistrates, perhaps John Hathorne, who often took the lead role in interrogating the accused in court, holds a written document, in front of the young Margaret Jacobs.
This document may be intended to represent Margaret's written confession in which she accuses her grandfather. Judge Hathorne gestures towards the clerk of the court, Stephen Sewall, who is shown writing down Margaret's testimony at the clerk's table, with the other court records lying in front of him. In the background against the windows Matteson shows a group of people who may represent the grand jury.
The artist also depicts the large crowd of onlookers that typically attended the trials in Salem. Gravestone of George Jacobs, Sr. The remains of a man believed to be George Jacobs, Sr. Not much is known about when he came to Massachusetts Bay Colony, or about his first wife.
He had three children from his first marriage, all born in Salem. George Jr. He bought land in Salem around and married his second wife, Mary, about He had lived in Salem for a little over thirty years when he was accused of witchcraft. He was examined twice, on the day of his arrest and on the following day. His trial took place in early August, and he remained in prison from the time of his arrest until his execution on August His primary accuser was Sarah Churchill, who was a servant in his home.
She came from a wealthy family of English gentry in Maine but was most likely orphaned in Indian Wars. She, like Margaret, had been accused of witchcraft and, in her confession, accused others.
George Jacobs granddaughter Margaret herself confessed to witchcraft and accused her grandfather among others who had already been accused in order, she wrote, "to save my life and to have my liberty. The women accused his Jacobs' specter of beating them with his walking stick and other physical abuses. Not only did the women testify that Jacobs afflicted them, they also testified to witnessing the afflictions of the others. During his testimony, John DeRich, a sixteen-year old boy, was the only person to claim that Jacobs afflicted him.
The Putnam men testified that they witnessed the afflictions that Mary Walcott and the other women suffered on May 11 at the hands of Jacobs' specter. The Puritans believed that witches and wizards had proof of their covenants with the Devil on their bodies. Doctor George Herrick was sent to examine Jacobs' body for the witch's "teat," and found one on his right shoulder.
This slight protuberance on his skin combined with the spectral evidence made the case strong enough for indictment. He was incredulous from the moment the first accuser, Abigail Williams, cried out against him. He laughed in court, always a risky response and said: "Because I am falsely accused. The judges, however, believed that the Devil cannot take a person's form "without [his] consent. This was the first time men were executed as witches in Salem.
Meanwhile, Jacobs' granddaughter Margaret Jacobs was free from danger after confessing and accusing her grandfather but remained in jail. Her father, George Jacobs, Jr. When he did so, he left behind his wife, Rebecca, in jail facing witchcraft charges. She became severely emotionally disturbed and was most likely ruled mentally incompetent and escaped conviction.
George Sr. Jacobs body was retrieved from Gallows Hill by his family and buried on his land. In the 's his body had to be moved quickly, due to the sale of the Jacobs family property,. His bones were kept in storage in the Danvers Archive until when he was finally put to rest in the Rebecca Nurse Cemetery.
Bernard Rosenthal views him as the victim of fabrication. For example, Ann Putnam and Abigail Williams knowingly put pins in their hands and accused his specter of putting them there to add to evidence against him Salem Story.
He was also a victim of the life-saving strategy that the accused learned during the early course of the trials: confess and your life will be spared. Two of his primary accusers were among the accused who confessed to save themselves.. Paul Boyer and Stephen Nissenbaum interpret the trials in socio-economic and political terms. They argue that many members of the more rural and agricultural Salem Village e. Salem Village had been trying to assert its independence from the Town by establishing its own church, and inhabitants of the Village with ties to the Town were seen as threats to the cause of Village independence.
As such, the majority of accusers was from the Village and the majority of the accused who lived on the western side of the Village nearer to the Town. The phenomenon of the accused becoming accusers was due, they argue, to the swarm of accusations made in the heat of politics and economics. Eventually the confusion had to fall back on itself. Carol Karlsen offers a more gender-oriented analysis. The "possessed accusers" were usually subordinate members of society such as servants.
Many of them, like Sarah Churchill, were orphans. Their prospects for improving their social standings were virtually nonexistent since they had no families and no dowries to support them.
Totally dependent upon the will of others, their discontent and anxiety would have been quite marked. Puritan society, however, did not tolerate socially aggressive and assertive women. Their fears were then converted, psychologically, into the belief that they were either witches or were possessed. After all, Carol Karlsen argues, a society that teaches the existence of possession will invariably contain persons who think they are possessed and are believed to be so by others.
As for the specific reason that Sarah Churchill accused George Jacobs, he may have been seen as a tormentor or harsh master since most of the accusations contained charges of physical abuse. All of these explanations fall short, however.
None of them explains why Jacobs own granddaughter would accuse him of all people or why such a large number of accusations flew at Jacobs, except for the fact that he publicly denounced the circle of "afflicted" girls, thus opening them to charges of fraud and compliance with the Devil. If modern students and scholars find it hard to explain why so many people would spend their time accusing a 70 year-old man, it is quite easy to see why George Jacobs, Sr.
The sixty-seven year old widow Susannah Martin of Amesbury was hanged as a witch on July 19, on the basis of the testimony of the accusing circle of girls of Salem Village and other neighbors. Although she maintained her innocence to the end, a previous history of witchcraft accusations and the momentum of Salem's accusations carried her to the gallows.
Martin figures in historian Carol Karlsen's account of the Salem outbreak as an example of a woman who was easily targeted as a threat to the orderly transmission of property down the paternal line because of Martin's role in an ongoing court dispute over her father's will. Source Mabel Martin:. Artist, Mary A. By David C. Maintaining her innocence up until the moment of her execution, Susannah North Martin was hanged with four other women on July 19, during the outbreak of witchcraft accusations in Salem.
At the time of her execution Martin was 67 and a widow. She arrived in Massachusetts in from Buckinghamshire, England, married the blacksmith George Martin in Salisbury, in and had eight children. During the course of her examination and trial 15 of Martin's neighbors accused her of afflicting them through her specter, by pinching them or causing their farm animals to die. The Reverend Cotton Mather believed her to be "one of the most impudent, scurrilous, wicked Creatures in the World" Brave and outspoken, Martin refused to allow her accusers to shake her convictions.
Standing in the courtroom, confronted by girls seemingly writhing from "afflictions" they blamed on her, Martin maintained that she only "desire[d] to lead my self according to the word of God. Martin was no stranger to witchcraft accusations, having been accused two decades earlier. Her husband, deceased by the time of the Salem outbreak, had countered the charges of witchcraft and infanticide with slander suites.
Although he did not win decisively, Susannah was acquitted in the criminal courts. In public gossip, however, her reputation as a witch appears to have continued irrespective of the court's findings. At the same time as the first accusations of witchcraft Susannah and her husband were involved in a series of legal battles over her inheritance.
In her father, Richard North, died leaving two daughters, a granddaughter and his second wife to share his sizable estate. To the surprise of Susannah and her sister, they received only a tiny portion while the bulk of the estate passed to his second wife, who died soon after her husband. Susannah's stepmother left the majority of North's estate to his granddaughter, continuing the exclusion of Susannah and her sister. From to Susannah's husband and her sister pursued a series of appeals, all of which were ultimately unsuccessful.
These familial disputes over inheritance were incorporated by historian Carol Karlsen in The Devil in the Shape of a Woman into her interpretation of the Salem outbreak in socio-economic terms.
Karlsen postulated that accused witches were not only poor, disagreeable old women, but also women of social and economic standing within their community.
Specifically, Karlsen believes there is a correlation between witchcraft accusations and aberrations in the traditional line of property transmission.
She notes that property, particularly land, typically went to the male relatives after the death of a parent. In the cases of many of the accused women, however, Karlsen discovered a pattern of women standing to inherit in the absence of male heirs. She develops this theme, and Martin's place within her theory, in chapter three of her book. Although Karlsen's book offers invaluable insights in the role of gender in the Salem outbreak, in the case of Susannah Martin her theory stretches a bit too thin.
The inheritance debate, which Karlsen cites as motivational for Martin's accusation, is separated from the Salem outbreak by twenty years. Much fresher in the minds of her accusers would be the outspokenness demonstrated by her comments during her courtroom examination.
In this case, the accused fits very well with the stereotype of the accused witch as a disagreeable old woman. Martin's descendant, John Greenleaf Whittier, immortalized her innocence and bravery in his poem The Witches Daughter, published in Rebecca Nurse was an elderly and respected member of the Salem Village community.
She was accused of witchcraft by several of the "afflicted" girls in the Village in March of Although a large number of friends, neighbors and family members wrote petitions testifying to her innocence, she was tried for acts of witchcraft in June, The jury first returned a "not guilty" verdict, but was told to reconsider, and then brought in a verdict of "guilty. She was excommunicated from the Salem church and hanged on July 19, Her house in Danvers, the former Salem village, still stands and is open to visitors.
A large monument also marks her grave in the Nurse family cemetery on the grounds. This drawing illustrates a scene in John Musick's book The Witch of Salem in which Rebecca Nurse is brought in chains to the meeting house where the Rev.
Nicholas Noyes pronounces her excommunication before the congregation. By John R. Artist: F. Diorama depicting the trial of Rebecca Nurse, shown seated in the dock at the right, the magistrates in the center, and the "afflicted" girls at the left.
Artist: Yiannis Stefinarkis, ca. Source Video Cassette cover. Three sovereigns for Sarah. Night Owl Productions. Producer, writer, Victor Pisano. Director, Philip Leacock. Rebecca Nurse Memorial, erected The inscription on the monument reads: Rebecca Nurse, Yarmouth, England Salem, Mass. The tall granite memorial is located in the cemetery of Rebecca Nurse Homestead, Danvers, Massachusetts.
Rebecca Nurse, a sick and elderly woman of seventy-years old, stood for examination before the court on charges of practicing witchcraft on March 24, The examination of "Goody Nurse" developed into a spectacle worthy of the attendance of so many onlookers, as a number of afflicted women launched into "grevious fitts" and openly denounced Rebecca Nurse as the cause of their torment.
In the end, after one of the great confrontations between an accused and the infamous Judge Hathorne, the Judges found cause to bind Rebecca Nurse over for trial after which she was executed on Gallows Hill on July 19, A carefully crafted team under you control?
Your friends through 6 player online co-op? Or will you be a lone wolf with only a trusty blade at your side.
Immerse yourself in a world that scales well for a full party or a single character. Frosty peaks guarded by the elusive Blue Dragon? Overgrown jungle where the rock giants roam? Deep dungeons where the undead rise. Explore a world that changes on each expedition. Outsmart clever enemies. Toggle navigation. Game Overview. An actual alien. Or maybe Dib purposely didn't mention him. What use was it, to say the name of someone who had left you, rejected you, turned away for good?
Or something equally ridiculous. It is absurd a human like you can--". Zim had a good idea who they were. He asked me if I wanted to come after college, and We went to a lot of planets. Saw a lot of aliens. Zim could easily picture the family of three, staring at awe at sights no humans had ever seen before. Except Dwicky, he supposed, but he couldn't give less of a squazz about Dwicky.
On me and Dad. But we got to see so much together while it lasted. Every word made Zim want to just return to his room. It wasn't fair, staying angry at Min. Min was only trying to be truthful. There were so many other questions that could be asked, but Zim was only interested in one answer. Min shrugged. But," they added, and they must have seen Zim's face fall, "I found Dad's old journals on you.
He wrote about you. A lot. I asked him who you were, and Min shrugged again, a tiredness slumping on their shoulders. Never had an answer made Zim feel two opposite emotions at once. He stood there in the cockpit, watching the person that Dib had loved with all his heart--and it was clear Min had loved their parents too, judging by how they unconsciously smiled whenever they mentioned the human names--and he felt like he was the stranger, now, intruding into a bubble of perfect life.
He wasn't this kind to others. He would never be that considerate. Min gave a small smile back, and Zim could only nod wordlessly before retreating back to his room. For their anniversary--or whatever date it was--Zim proposed a trip to the ultimate wilderness. Dib had been somewhat hesitant. At the end, they settled on the Yukon territory. Professor Membrane had a small base there that they could kip out at, and Dib had never fully visited a taiga biome before. They had found several faeries up in the spruces, ran from bears, raised several dead wolves from the permafrost, buried the wolves again, hiked up into an icy caldera, and once Zim had singlehandedly chopped down a tree--with just his PAK legs--before Dib replanted it and accelerated it back to full growth with one of his father's lab machines.
Gaz gave them weekly calls. The Professor joined in sometimes, giving a thumbs-up to Dib's photos of their time there.
There had been one exceptional moment; Dib had dragged Zim up a plateau, with Zim cheating in the middle and carrying them up via PAK legs. They had sat on cold rocky ground for hours as the sky grew dark. Zim didn't mind the cold too much, but the ground was uncomfortable and it was boring and Dib wasn't paying attention to him and Zim groaned, wondering what stupid Earth thing had his human worked up so much, when he saw.
It looked like a rift had split in the sky, except the rift was pure, undiluting green, ink pouring from a crack, seeping into the stars with a light so eldritch that Zim could only gawk open-mouthed. It poured and poured and filled the mountains with a glow, and Zim--didn't know.
About it. It reminded him of the first time he had been to space, just after the smeeteries. How he had pressed up against the glass of the spaceship and watched the stars flash by. He looked so happy. I always wanted to see one. Min kept a fairly sedentary lifestyle, Zim had observed. They were supposed to escort him somewhere-- to Dib-- but they mostly lounged around in the cockpit, reading Jawan literature and building their own map of the cosmos.
They had asked Zim once for help, and Zim had plugged in the location of Irk and left it at that. Zim wondered if he could ever return there. Defective, criminal, marked for imprisonment or death--back on Earth he had learned what his mission was, and for a month afterwards he could only absorb it in stunned silence.
Negatively, maybe, but someone that had always seen his worth. His value. Now he stared at Dib's child, chin in palm, and watched them. Min twitched at the attention, and finally glanced up, smiling nervously. He did a lot of computer programming back on Earth, but He tried to use proteins and DNA to compute code, and at some point he thought about reversing it--".
He sometimes forgot how intelligent Dib could be. No, you hadn't. So I think he must've found some defective organic code somewhere--" Not somewhere. Zim knew where Dib had found it. Pretty incredible, huh? Dib had used Zim's code. His defective PAK. Zim--didn't even have the energy to be mad. It all felt like one, unending cycle of irony--Zim had killed two Tallests, then Dib had used his code to start the fall of the Irken Empire. The Empire couldn't win against this.
Not with code of their own turned against them. Zim felt like he had glimpsed into the future, where the Armada was no more, where the planets were liberated, where Irk was once again its small, seemingly peaceful planet of metal. The virus had only opened up opportunity. They passed the remnants of Research Station 9. Invader Larb must have had it firebombed, to prevent any other energy-consuming creatures from ever being created. It had orbited Vort and another nearby planet.
Zim saw Vort as well, from farther away. Most of the galaxy hates you guys. They married after Dib's graduation. The corner lot was booked full at the time, so they decided on the basement of Membrane Labs. Four, if you counted the Computer officiating the ceremony.
Zim thought it a waste of time. If an Irken wanted something, they simply took it. Dib disagreed soundly. Dib's father had applauded, Dib long ago accepting that Membrane would just not believe in aliens. Gaz made a beeping noise from her Game Slave. It was GIR who threw out flowers, but half were chewed weeds and the rest were dead.
Dib wore a suit, and Zim wore his usual uniform. No reason to take it off. The night had been quite memorable. The moment they made inside Dib's apartment--he had moved out due to grad school, working as an astrophysicist--Dib had slammed Zim against the door and they were kissing, hot and heavy with a segmented tongue curling against a fleshy one.
Dib kissed him like he was going to devour him. Zim had seen enough human pornography to guess where this was going, and sure enough, Dib had torn off his leggings only to fuck him ruthlessly against the surface, pinning his wrists to the wood. Zim could never get tired of it--how Dib could just use him so roughly, mouth harsh against his collarbone, how he drew sounds out of Zim's throat the way nothing had before.
Dib made Zim orgasm twice, pink fluid dripping down his thighs, before Zim had knocked Dib onto the rug.
They hadn't even made it to the bed. Zim took Dib, right then and there on the floor, the human on his hands and knees and moaning so desperately there was no way the neighbours didn't hear it. He loved the sounds Dib made, how the skin and muscles went taut and how his face went red, but it was the small detail of his hand curling on the floorboards that made him shove in roughly into Dib's body, enough that Dib fell to his elbows and sobbed as he came.
They weren't even out of their wedding attire yet. Dib's suit was absolutely wrecked. The whole week had passed somewhat like that. Dib bent Zim over the sink and fucked him from behind, right against the mirror, and all Zim could stare at was how uncontrolled he look, eyes huge and wet and face flushed and mouth hanging open like an animal, while Dib thrusted into his body until he crumpled and begged and clenched his fists on the counter. Later on, he had Dib eat him out on the balcony, marvelling at the rough texture of hair even as he watched Dib's face relax in ultimate pleasure, eyes half-lidded and blissed out, pink fluid streaked across his face.
There were all sorts of interesting scenes. They had sex in the car, and Dib definitely had a preference for pressing Zim against solid surfaces--a holdover from their fighting days, Zim supposed--and took Zim like a dog against the windows, up to the point where Zim had left scratch marks on the glass. Zim, meanwhile, still held on a holdover preference of seeing Dib on his knees.
He handcuffed Dib's hands behind him and edged him for almost two hours until Dib knelt and kissed his feet, his legs, all the way to the junction between Zim's thighs and thoroughly worshipped him there.
They had shower sex right afterwards, Dib fucking him against the tiles over and over, and then going back to the bedroom and then Zim rode him, extensively, until they collapsed into a small puddle of sweat and fluid. Zim's favourite moments, however, had been the gentleness afterwards. Amongst the stained sheets he had held Dib, breathed in his scent, and watched the sun rise.
To lie besides his oldest enemy and only friend was like a dream that came true only through a miracle. To feel Dib hug him warmly, pressing a kiss against his antennae. To bicker at shopping and decisions and to go off to work--Zim had quickly adapted to becoming a mechanical engineer, the work being rather similar to what he had done back at Vort. He laughed at how behind the humans were, but Dib's ingenuity always surprised him. Dib never stopped asking him questions. What was Irk like?
What had Vort been like? They discussed diagrams, schematics, calculations. Zim knew his way around physics and chemistry--you couldn't become a scientist without them--even with a different set of numbers and equations, but biology had utterly stumped him. Dib took his time to explain. They decorated the apartment. Gaz and the father-unit visited sometimes; the Computer renovated the walls, and GIR kept his destructive capacity to a minimum. Zim thought he knew what Dib wanted. Dib had never been subtle, and now he wasn't, staring up at the sky.
He joined his human on the balcony. There was only one coded word left in the video will. Zim didn't hesitate to ask Min; he was tired of digging through clues and codes, even if it woke something in him that lay latent for a long time.
A popular place for scavengers and pirates. I was just supposed to wait for you at Callnowia and give you the glasses. All of us only had a part of the whole. He was sincerely curious. How admirable.
Zim stared out at the stars, lost in thought. Everyone wanted to be something that they weren't. He wanted to be the best Invader Irk had to offer, and now his own code had brought its eventual downfall. Dib had wanted fame and recognition on his planet. And he had gotten it--out among the stars. Everyone wanted something. Not everyone had the chance to. He wished GIR was with him. Sometimes Zim didn't remember, and sometimes Zim remembered his SIR unit with a longing so sharp that it felt like his spooch had tied into knots.
Logically, he knew GIR could survive a long time. He asked Min about his robot servant. Until now. He's definitely in good shape, so you don't have to worry. Min's smile fell at that.
I left to go escort you two weeks ago. He was sick then. I don't know. He's old, and Mom's death just pushed him down further, and he just works so hard.
Aunt Gaz and Granddad died around the same time Mom did. A lightbulb had lit up inside Zim's head, although he hardly liked its conclusion. Or at least, the sight of me will reinvigorate him.
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