“...Master…”

*mwah* *chu* *shlurp* *kiss*

You know, seven floors up?  With most of slum town only being three or four stories tall?  You can see for miles and miles.  It's the middle of the night so, of course, dark.  But the sky is clear and a ton of stars are out.  An urban sprawl of muted greys and browns is laid out before me.

The temp has dropped.  Downright cool outside now.  There is even a passing breeze.

Clusters of electric lights are scattered across the landscape.  No walls or towers on the horizon anymore though.  Was it a mirage?

The sliver of a moon hangs high in the sky and Nina says this world only has one.  Maybe this really is, my Earth?  Despite the cyberpunk though, this planet is very world wide webless.  WWWNot.

My upgrade included communications so I can hear “broadcasts” like I can hear Nina.  There is even an option to see the “programs” if I choose too. However, these “channels” are all one way and the only thing I’m finding?  Current news or public announcement warnings.

The “news” stories?  Feel good public interest pieces or over the top propaganda.  The public announcements?  Warnings about finding a safe place during the monster attack and hunkering down.

That’s it.  Talk about nothing to watch.  Nina says there are entertainment channels.  Music, dramas, comedies, and such.  The ones in the slums though have all been preempted with non stop alerts about mutants and monsters.

There is some locational data.  Like a lame version of GPS.  Tinpan Alley, Geller District, Oberkatsu City.  That’s where I am.  Generates a basic map that doesn’t even zoom out enough to show the whole city.  At least it tracks where I’ve been.

Anything about history or geography?  Nowhere to be found.

“...Master…”

*kiss* *shlurp*

Just another challenge from cyberpunk land.  At least I can understand the local language here too.  Could even read right off the bat this time.

The translation is handled the same way it was in medieval land.  What I think to say and what I hear myself say, are two different things.

Going to have to relearn the local languages again.  Ugh.

*boom* *tatatat* *roar* *tatatat* *rumble*

We’re in the southwest corner of the old garrison building’s seventh floor with a great view to the south.  And what do I see?

War.

Along with the tornado siren, explosions randomly light up the south.  Long streams of gunfire are regularly heard.  Even see what looks like tracers from time to time.

The fighting hasn’t reached here yet and I’m in no hurry for it too.  Still way too much I don’t know.  Need to understand more before I start making moves.

As it looked from the ground, most of the windows are intact up here.  Not covered over with rusty metal or filled in with rubble like the lower floors.  These are even protected by heavy steel shutters.

Right now though?  Three of the four windows in this room are open and I’m leaning against a corner window’s frame.  Why are they open?  Well, because of the smell.

*groan*

“Stay still or we’ll have to rebreak it...”

This room looks like a barracks.  A dozen seen better days bunk beds take up most of it.  Lockers, chairs, and a table, fill up the rest.

Like the rest of the building these walls have not seen paint in decades or more.  Their concrete like material cracked, pocked, and flaked.  As elsewhere the lighting is placed more along the walls than the ceiling.

Bet this is where the chief’s guards live and it's in pretty decent shape.

Or, at least, used to be.

Right now?  It's a mess.  The reek of blood and shit fills the room.  Two didn’t make it and emptied their bowels.  Three are still being worked on by tribal doctor looking types..

Oh, yeah, three were dead on arrival and one was lucky enough to be walking wounded.  So he’s already left.

There are seven medically skilled, supposedly, tribesmen here trying to save their lives.

According to Nina.  While nanites are great with soft tissue like skin and organs?  Harder stuff like bone is more difficult to repair and takes longer.

Also makes a big difference on whether you have a control module and your own nanomachine supply.  Without it?  The healing pill delivered nanobots have to figure things out on their own.

Of course that's still a hell of a lot better than nothing.

Four of the five corpses here didn’t have them.  Figures since cyberware isn’t that common.  Especially among poor ass tribals like us.  The walking wounded did and the bullets missed bone so he was doubly lucky.

The three being worked on didn’t have upgrades and the slugs hit bone.  Like a little frag grenade going off inside them.

Get some dirty looks from the medics but they are kept busy trying to stop the bloodloss, clean up the wounds, put the broken bones back together, and direct the itty bitty healing bots with goofy looking handhelds.

“Sally…”

There is a tenth occupied bed in this room and it's not the chief.  Slave Leia is in it and she doesn’t look good.  Girl is so pale she’s almost transparent and she ain’t breathing very well.  Digger is beside her, moaning and sobbing nonstop.

One of the medics already fessed up to why she’s this way.

Turns out that turd had been pumping Sally full of more than just baby seed while I’ve been gone.  Hallucinogens, stimulants, aphrodisiacs, etc, etc…  And to keep her from overdosing?  Healing pills.

After hours and hours of this?  Sally’s body and mind are basically falling apart.  Shutting down.  The one plus is that since she’s so far gone?  Probably isn’t feeling any pain.

Guess I should have made that bastard suffer more before putting him out of my misery.

“...Master…”

*mwah* *shlurp*

Yeah, bikini witch Frankie is here too.  Alternating between going after my tonsils, and trying to crawl inside my skin.  

Seriously.

She’s in my coat, has lifted my shirt, is rubbing her big nippled melon sized tits all over my chest, and has a shapely leg wrapped around me.  One hand is helping her boob massage while the other is down my pants, stroking me off.

Took us a bit to get used to the new bodies but we are running full steam ahead now.  Her lewd green eyes, curly copper hair, silky honey skin, juicy T&A, and hourglass figure, has pushed my throttle wide open

Just can’t explain how good it feels to have one of my wives back in my arms again.

Whenever Frankie runs out of breath from our tongue tango?  Her mouth moves to my nips to recharge.  Girl is acting like she hasn’t seen me in years.  And in her case?  She may not have.

How long was I gone before she tried following me?  How long has she been here?

Frankie, Ushinua Barton, was the first face I saw when I opened my eyes in medieval land.  Only inches from mine in fact.  The one who has been with me since d-day.

Nicknamed her Frankie because I had to stitch her back together after an especially bad fight and replaced a lot of her body.  So, you know, Frankenstein.

While it wasn’t always smooth sailing?  Never had cause to doubt Frankie’s loyalty after her one and only betrayal.  And she wasn’t even mine at the time.

Well, at least I didn’t consider her mine.  She had already made her decision.

*chu* *chu*

“Frankie, stop, that’s enough.”

“A little more, master.  Please…”

Her blushing face looks up at me, pleading.  Eyes wet and drunk with lust.  Lips open, panting and drooling.  Every bit of her sexiness is begging for me.  Remember her neck was a favori-

Oh.

That fucking bulky blinking collar.

I reach up and grab the offending hardware without thinking.  Even use it to lift and pull her closer.  Shoving my tongue down her welcoming mouth.  Exploring every bit of the new her.

[Jaxon?]

Out of habit I feed my mana into her to raise our sensations even higher.  Or, at least, I try too.  Yeah, not thinking too clearly right now.  My mana feels sluggish.  Like it's resisting me.

Frustration grows.  Muster my will but my mana feels so thin.  So meager.  Almost like it's not even mana.  Dammit!  I am Jon Barton.  The Swordmage Necromancer.  I will not be denied!

This collar.  It's.  In.  My.  Way.

(Break!)

*beep* *click*

The offending collar makes a noise and snaps open.  I immediately fling the interfering hardware away and bite into the side of Frankie’s neck.  Pushing her stimulation over the top.

[Sir?]

“Ahng!”

As she orgasms, Frankie still manages to wrap her shaking arms around my neck and quivering legs around my waist.  Has already pulled her soaked bikini bottoms to the side and whipped my cock out.

Houston.  All systems are go.

[Jaxon?]

My spread fingers bury themselves deep into Frankie’s juicy ass.  I’m lifting her spread hips up and down.  Rubbing her drooling petals across my tip as I whisper in her ear.

“My beautiful wife.”

Still trembling from the orgasm and now even more stimulation, she barely manages a reply.

“H-hushban... m-make... e... ors... aga-”

Unable to restrain myself for a second longer I push down her hips as I thrust up with mine.  Driving my shovel deep into her garden soil.

“Ahuuu!”

Both of us are far too aroused and immediately cum.  Frankie’s voice turns loud and incoherent.

Fluid floods out of her cave as my seed launches deep into her womb.  Her insides grip, pull, and squeeze my dick.  As if desperate to drain every last drop.

Once the aftershocks of her hard orgasm finally settle down, Frankie’s entire body goes limp.  Passed out?  If I didn’t still have a firm grip on her she would have fallen to the floor.  I turn and see a very satisfied looking face resting on my shoulder.

Her sparkling eyes are worshipping me.  Swear I can see hearts in her pupils.  A sloppy smile somehow seems just as full of love as her eyes.

“I missed you, wife.”

“I missed you, husband.  Thank you, master, for saving me again.”

*mwah* *chu*

We share gentle kisses as her eyes drift closed and I can feel her about to fall slee-

“What the fak is wrong with you!?”

Our eyes snap open and we turn, to see that we are not “alone.”

(Oh, yeah.  Huh.  Forgot.  Dying people.)

All eyes in the room are on us.  Even the wounded.  Expressions of confusion, disgust, or both, on their faces.  The only one not staring at us is Sally.  And that’s just because she’s unconscious.

[...Jon?]

(Not now Nina.)

The oldest witch doctor looks super pissed.

“We are trying to save the lives of tribesmen you hurt and you just stand there fahking like animals!”

Both Frankie’s eyes and mine turn hard.  While the old tribal’s face turns pale.

“How about I shoot more tribesmen instead.”

“W-wha?  N-no!”  He’s getting panicky.  “Peace!”

“Then, fuck off!  Go back to saving their lives instead of trying to lose your own.”

That shitstain cost me prime cuddle time.

“B-big bro?”

Crap, the kid.  He looks super confused.

“H-how did you do that?”

Eh?