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itsjustagamerp2012-08-09 04:29 pm
itsjustthemads) wrote in itsjustagamerp2012-08-09 04:29 pm
Experiment #24 - Truly, Madly, Viking - Chapter 5
Truly, Madly, Viking - Chapter 5
By Sandra Hill
Derpy: *crashes in through the ceiling* Hiiiiii! Sorry, I don’t know how that happened!
Big Macintosh: *just barely missed getting hit and just stares in surprise. is she okay?*
Phineas: [already there with popcorn] Hi! How did you even get up there? That’s pretty cool, though... I guess landing probably wasn’t very comfortable. You ok?
Derpy: Oh, this happens all the time! I’m ok! But I really don’t know how I got here...
Phineas: Well, that’s ok! I’m not even really sure I know what we’re supposed to be doing, so a little confusion is probably called for. As long as you’re not hurt, it’s not really a problem!
Derpy: Well, I think we’re just supposed to talk about stuff in the book while it happens! And we’re supposed to yell or something for some reason everyone once in awhile.
Phineas: Oh. Ok. That’s a little weird, but it shouldn’t be that hard, right?
“Love slave?” Maggie squeaked out.
Big Macintosh: *already looking uncomfortable*
Derpy: Ok! So the main character is a mouse...*takes out notebook and makes notes*
Phineas: Oh, is that what’s going on? Usually I can keep up better than this, but... I’m kind of already lost.
Big Macintosh: Eeeyup. *he’s not sure what’s going on either, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to know*
As a professional, Maggie shouldn’t have been shocked. Patients made outrageous suggestions to her all the time.
Derpy: Like mixing ranch dressing with...with...jalapenos?
Phineas: Actually, that might be pretty good. Ranch with something like chocolate, maybe. Though, given the right chemical differentiation... nevermind, sorry. I’ll do that later.
But when the proposition came from a compellingly handsome man with pale blond hair, translucent gray eyes, and sun-tanned skin...well, Maggie had to admit to a teensy bit of temptation.
Derpy: ...Huh? To do what?
She would have to be extra careful not to cross that ethical line between patient and doctor...even if the patient was drop-dead gorgeous, despite the fact that he wore boring blue hospital-issue pajama bottoms, ankle restraints, and a white straightjacket. Even his bare feet, which were huge--a narrow size thirteen, she would guess--were surprisingly sexy.
Derpy: And BIG! Those are big hooves.
Big Macintosh: Eeeeyup. *because yes, that’s the thing to take from that paragraph*
She had to smile at that latter whimsy. Yep, there were strange goings-on inside Maggie these days, if she was getting turned on by feet.
Big Macintosh: *looks at his own hooves, then at Derpy’s, then down at Phineas’s feet, and just looks confused*
Derpy: So...she’s an electric mouse...? *scribbles something out, re-scribbles*
Phineas: Wait, there’s something going on inside her? Maybe she should go to a doctor. If it’s other the normal things going on... yeaaaa that just doesn’t sound good.
Actually, the psychiatrist in her had a ready, logical explanation:
Derpy: She’s a Pikachu! *turns notepad to reveal crude Pikachu drawing*
Big Macintosh: *tosses a pokeball that just happened to be under his seat at the screen*
on a big, strong man like Joe, his bare feet appeared vulnerable and open to...well, touch--as other parts of his covered body were not.
Her face flushing with heat at the mere thought of touch, Maggie experienced a twinge of guilt as she glanced at the restraints that were put on him whenever he entered the room. They were necessary, though, even with a security guard posted outside the door, because he fought confinement. Fighting back was a natural reaction, of course, but it proved that he could be dangerous, until hospital experts could complete a diagonsis.
Derpy: ....Oh! So he’s sick! You shouldn’t be near him, you might get sick too!
Big Macintosh: If it ain’t too late.
He was lounging on the bed now, his back propped up by two fluffy pillows
Derpy: He’s so lucky! Those sound comfy...
and his long legs spread out on the narrow mattress, crossed at the ankles. His posture said he was relaxed, but the tension of the corded muscles in his neck said he was ready to pounce at the first opportunity.
Derpy: So he’s a cat!....*her eyes slooooooowly widen in horror*
He nodded in response to her question, which she’d already forgotten with all her musings. Oh, yes, she’d exclaimed at his ridiculous love-slave proposition.
“Yea, a love slave.” He spoke slowly, with a strong foreign accent. Clearly English was not his first language.
Derpy: He still speaks it really well, though!
“Release me from these restraints, and we can negotiate an agreement.”
Derpy: No! NO! Don’t do it, Pikachu! He wants to EAT YOU!!
She shook her head and pulled her chair closer to the bed,
Big Macintosh: Nope! *why is she getting closer to him when he must be restrained for a reason and tried to coerce her into slavery?*
pencil and notepad at the ready. It was time she got a more complete background on this guy, now that he’d finally deigned to speak. “I can’t release you till we’re certain you won’t harm others, or yourself.”
“Why would I harm myself?” he scoffed.
Derpy: I do it all the time! But on accident. I’m a little clumsy...
She shrugged. “Lots of people do.”
He looked skeptical at that statement.
She smiled as some of his words flitted through her brain. “You would actually negotiate a contract to be a...love slave?” He face heated up over those last words.
Derpy: ...Contract? *headtilt*
Big Macintosh: *shudders as she does that, though not really sure why*
To her dismay, his intelligent eyes registered her embarrassment, and he winked. Oh, my God! He winked at me. Woah! Since when is a wink an erotic signal?
Derpy: *blink* I think Twilight would know the answer! *starts yelling loud enough to cause cracks in the ceiling* TWILIGHT SPAAAAARKLE!! SINCE WHEN IS A WINK AN EROTIC SIGNAL??...AND WHAT’S EROTIC MEAN???
Big Macintosh: *flails as the room starts shaking and shoves a hoof over Derpy’s mouth*
Derpy: AN*mmmmph mppphm???*
Phineas: [pulls out a metal umbrella in case the ceiling falls; and offers one to the ponies, just in case.]
Maybe my girls are right. Maybe I really do need a man. No, no, no. That’s the last thing I need.
Derpy: You seem really confused about what you need.
Maggie also saw the way his eyes scanned her body, from the top of her short hairdo, over her silk blouse, short skirt, and sheer stockings, down to her high heels. The jacket that matched the skirt hung on a wall peg back in her office. She was attending a seminar later today.
Joe liked what he saw--Maggie could tell by the brief flicker of his eyelids and the dilating of his pupils, especially as his gaze paused over her breasts--
Derpy: No! BAD CAT!
and she had to force herself not to react, either in anger or withdrawl.
It had taken Maggie years to become comfortable with her body. As a young girl who had developed much earlier than her friends,
Derpy: If that’s so, where’s her cutie mark?
and as a young woman who had always had a curvy, voluptuous figure that made males think she was ‘easy,’
Derpy: ...Easy? *headtilt*
Maggie had gone out of her way to dress in a manner that would hide her figure, and to behave contrary to her sensual nature. But she was changing--her short, saucy hairdo
Derpy: When I think of saucy, I think of spaghetti.
Big Macintosh: That ain’t a nice way to describe her hair.
and the belly-button ring being the most recent signs--and she no longer dressed repressively. If people wanted to form the wrong opinions of her, that was their problem, not hers. She didn’t wear slut clothes,
Derpy: No, she wore normal clothing!
but then she didn’t dress like a librarian, either.
Derpy: Well, she--wait, but why is she worried about her clothes? She’s a Pikachu, we’d all understand!
That didn’t mean she felt entirely comfortable under the carnal scrutiny of this handsome fellow. But she wasn’t dying of mortification, either.
She held her chin high in defiance, and he chuckled, as if he understood...which was impossible, of course.
She hoped.
Derpy: This Pikachu-lady is kind of confusing.
Big Macintosh: Eeeeeyup.
“You would actually negotiate a contract to be a love slave?” Even as Maggie repeated her question, she wondered why she was pursuing this line of questioning. In her own defense, psychologists were taught to go with the flow of the patient’s dialogue...to lead unobtrusively, when necessary, but mostly to follow, without censorship.
Derpy: But I don’t think anyone can follow what’s happening!
“Yea...if it would bring me closer to freedom.”
“Have you ever been a love slave before?”
Derpy: Cat Dude/Joe: No, but I’ve been...a love fool! Get it? Love fool! And I wear a cardigan...
Big Macintosh: *facehoof*
Derpy: ...I tried! That’s what counts, right?
His eyes shot wide at her question. “Nay. Have you?”
“No,” she answered with a nervous laugh. “And I’m not interested now.”
His only answer was the disbelieving lift of his eyebrows. He flicked his tongue briefly over his full lips, as if to signal that, even if she wasn’t interested, he definitely was.
Lordy, lordy!
Derpy: Uh, guys? I am really getting mixed signals about this whole conversation.
This had to be a joke, but he displayed no sign of humor. In fact, the chiseled features of his fine face lacked the laugh lines that should have been etched about the mouth and eyes of a man his age--about mid-thirties. If the eyes were the windows to the soul, his bespoke grimness, not a life filled with smiles.
Big Macintosh: He oughta talk to Pinkie Pie.
Derpy: Yeah! She’d cheer him right up!
Who was this man? The Orcaland people claimed they’d never seen him before. A police search of his fingertips
Derpy: Wow. These police are good if they can search inside those!
had brought up nothing. No family or friends had shown up claiming a missing person. He seemed to be a man without a past.
Phineas: Uhh... couldn’t he just be from somewhere else? Since, you know, he’s got an accent and everything.
Derpy: But that would make sense!
Maggie shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to bring up the love-slave subject again. But then she chastised herself: no topic should be taboo in the therapy relationship.
Derpy: No topic! Not even botany!...I bet she doesn’t like botany.
With that in mind she asked, “Exactly how would you negotiate a love-slave contract?”
Derpy: Lawyers!
She expected him to laugh, or at least grin, but his expression was somber. “On your side, there would be the promise of freedom. On my side would be the promise of bed pleasuring.”
Derpy: ...bed...pleasuring?
A ripple, like an erotic shock, rushed through Maggie with stunning force. And that was amazing, really, because, while she’d made great gains in her insecurities about her body, she still harbored strong inhibitions about her sexuality. Case in point, her girls’ father, Judd Haskell, who’d once said she was “as exciting as nailing a bowl of mashed potatoes.”
Big Macintosh: *stomach suddenly growls, and he looks a little sheepish. Mashed potatoes sound delicious right now*
Derpy: Mashed potatoes with cheese and butter and GRAVY! That is exciting!
Big Macintosh: Eeeeeyup.
“I see.” Maggie blinked several times to clear her head under the intense survey of the man half reclining on the bed before her. He saw way too much. “Define freedom,” she encouraged.
Derpy: Cambot? Your turn.
Derpy’s Cambot: free·dom: noun
1. the state of being free or at liberty rather than in confinement or under physical restraint: He won his freedom after a retrial.
2. exemption from external control, interference, regulation, etc.
3. the power to determine action without restraint.
4. political or national independence.
5. personal liberty, as opposed to bondage or slavery: a slave who bought his freedom.
Derpy: Thaaaanky! *hoof up* Hope that helps, Pikachu!
“I’d rather define bed pleasuring.”
Derpy: ...*looks at Cambot, then starts yelling again, causing more cracks to appear in the ceiling* TWILIGHT SPAAAARKLE!! WHAT’S BED PLEASURING!?
Big Macintosh: *Winces and ducks under Phineas’s umbrella for a moment. How does anypony have a voice that loud anyway? He’s reaaaaallly worried about the ceiling now*
A slight grin tugged at his lips, and Maggie thought he might not be without a sense of humor, after all. Perhaps it was just buried beneath the surface...or whatever pain had caused this breakdown.
Derpy: Cat Dude/Joe: I am Joe! Welcome to pain!
“You talk in such an odd way,” she commented. “I can’t quite place the dialect.”
Derpy: Pikachu/Maggie: But I bet its foreign!
“Hah! You think I talk oddly? You should hear yourself...and I do not just mean that sex-voice.”
Sex-voice? Oh, he must be referring to the huskiness.
Derpy: ...So...she’s...she’s a Husky too? But she’s also a Pikachu...er...*scribbles and starts ripping paper in her notepad*
That was another part of her body makeup that had contributed to her early reputation as easy. Leave it to this fellow to home in on it, right off. “My voice has sounded raspy like this since I was a child. A severe throat infection,” she said, more defensively than she’d intended. “But your dialect...where are you from?”
“Vestfold.”
“Huh? Is that in Texas?”
“I have no idea where this Tax-us is.
Big Macintosh: Wallstreet.
Derpy: On April 15th!
Vestfold is in Norway. I am a Norseman. A Viking.”
Phineas: Cool!
Derpy: What’s a Norseman?
“I see.” Now they were getting somewhere. Among his other mental problems, this guy thought he was a Viking...although, come to think of it, he did resemble a Norse god.
Derpy: Pikachu/Maggie: Oh, you’re a god! That explains why I burst into flames upon seeing you!
She made a few quick notes on her pad.
“We were negotiating our love-slave contract when--”
Derpy: Wait, he really was being serious about that contract?
“I never agreed to negotiate any such thing,” she interjected, perhaps too indignantly.
“I have much experience in bed sport, of course.”
Derpy: ...Badminton?
“Of course,” she replied, and immediately regretted her sarcasm.
Either he failed to hear the sarcasm in her voice, or he chose to ignore it. Good.
“Now, I cannot claim great finesse in more refined bed sport--no flowery words or handholding or such--and, in truth, I do not favor kissing all that much,
Derpy: Cat Dude/Joe: But that’s because I always end up coughing hairballs when I do!
but I have been told my endurance is remarkable. That and my size.” Her only response was a gurgle, which he must have taken for a compliment because he continued, “And, of course, all Norsemen know the secret of a woman’s S-spot.”
Derpy: So you know how to perform a splenectomy on women?...wait...
“Don’t you mean G-spot?” Criminy, was she the one going crazy here? What would prompt her to encourage him with questions like that?
Derpy: ...Oh. OH! NOW I know what they’re talking about! *eyes widened* Ooooooooh.
Phineas: I... don’t. Should I be happy about that? [he’s getting that impression.]
“I know naught of a G-spot, but all Vikings know that the S-spot is far superior to any other sex spot.” The lack of expression on his face gave her no clue as to whether he was serious or not.
Derpy: ...Um, Big Mac?
Big Macinrosh: Nnnnope.
“Well, this love-slave business would never work, I can tell you that right away,” she informed him with a nervous laugh, “Because
Derpy: Pikachu: E.L. James has a monopoly on the market!...*blink* I don’t get what I just said.
most women like kissing.”
“Do you?”
“Uh...well, yes. Of course.” Oh, good heavens! My tongue has developed a mind of its own.
Derpy: I think your tongue might know what’s going on better than you do, Pikachu lady.
He seemed to consider her faltering words, the whole time staring at her with those luminous gray eyes. Finally he said, “Agreed.”
“Agreed? What does that mean?” she practically shrieked.
Derpy: Cambot!
Derpy’s Cambot: a·greed: adjective
arranged or set by common consent: They met at the agreed time.
He arched an eyebrow at the panic in her voice. “I agree to give kisses, and you agree to give...well, some things I want--nay, need.”
Like what? she desperately wanted to ask.
Derpy: Pizza!
Big Macintosh: A way out of this book!
Luckily her good sense returned, and she bridled her tongue. Enough was enough on this dangerous subject. “I am not in need of a love slave, thank you very much. We should get back to the subject at hand--this client interview.”
“Is that what this is? An interview?” He frowned. “By-the-by, m’lady Muck-bride,
Big Macintosh: *snorts. that ain’t a way to refer to a lady.*
are you married?”
She shook her head in confusion. What had her marital status to do with anything? Oh. He must be worried about potential conflicts with another man in the event she agreed to the love-slave business...which would be when hell froze over. “No, I’m not married.”
“I thought not. No offense, m’lady, but wedlock will not be party of our love-slave agreement.”
It took a moment before her fuzzy brain absorved the fact that he was declining a marriage proposal from her. “You...you...” she sputtered.
“Am I dead?” he asked suddenly.
Derpy: This guy really likes changing the subject on her, doesn’t he?
Big Macintosh: *slumps back in his chair and plays dead*
“Wh-what?” Now that question really surprised her. “Why would you ask a question like that?”
Phineas: And the other ones didn’t? That’s a little, um... scary.
“Well, the anchor of my longship got tangled in the seas somewhere beyond Iceland, and--”
“Iceland!” she exclaimed. “Joe, you are apparently lost.”
Derpy: ...Don’t worry, Joe. I’m lost too. *looks slightly dizzy*
He frowned. “Why do you address me as Joe?”
“Because you told me your name was Joe Rand. Oh...do you mean that I’m being too familiar? Do you before I call you Mr. Rand?”
“Nay, I prefer that you address me by my real name. Johr-rund,” he sounded out for her. “Jorund Ericsson.”
She put a hand over her mouth to hide a smile at her mistake. “Jorund. What an unusual name! But nice...very nice! I think I’ll just call you by your nickname, though--Joe.”
“Joe the Viking?”
Derpy: Agreed!
He pursed his lips pensively. “Somehow it does not have the same luster as Jorund the Viking, or Jorund the Warrior.” Then he flashed her an irresistible grin.
She grinned back at him.
“I know I was--am--lost,” he confessed. “But it was that damned Thora who caused me to end up here.”
Derpy: Oh! Isn’t that typical of a tom, blaming his queen for getting lost! He could have just asked for directions at a gas station or something!
Big Macintosh: Shoulda taken that turn at Albuquerque.
“Thora?” For some reason, the thought of Joe being with a woman caused her stomach to clench. No, no, no. She couldn’t allow herself to become involved with a patient. Besides, for all she knew, he might be married. “Is Thora your wife?” she asked with as much nonchalance as she could muster.
“Do you make mock of me?”
Big Macintosh: Eeeyup.
Derpy: She’s a pretty good cook.
She took that for a no. Whew!
Big Macintosh: *flails exasperatedly. Didn’t she say she wasn’t supposed to get involved?!*
“Your lover?”
He snorted with disgust. “Thora is a killer whale.”
Derpy: ....Your lover is a killer whale?
“Thora...a killer whale? You named a killer whale?”
“I did. Well, actually, my brother Magnus and my sailors did. And, if you must know, Thora is the most irritating animal this side of the Baltic. And she has bad breath, too.”
Phineas: That’s not very nice. It’s not like whales can brush their teeth or anything. Though maybe if someone invented whale toothpaste...
“I see.”
“Why do you keep saying, ‘I see,’ when you clearly do not see?”
Derpy: Pikachu/Maggie: That’s not true, I have proof from my doctor! I have perfect vision!
Maggie put her notebook aside and rubbed at the furrows in her forehead with the fingers of one hand. “A killer whale brought you here...from Iceland? A killer whale with bad breath?”
Derpy: ......TWILIGHT SPAAAAARKLE!! CAN A KILLER WHALE HAVE BAD BREATH??? AND CAN A KILLER WHALE BRING SOMEONE FROM ICELAND?? AND...WHERE’S ICELAND??? *chunks of the ceiling falls down*
Big Macintosh: !!! *tries to run for cover, but can’t move too fast because of his leg and gets buried in a heap of rubble*
Phineas: [well he has his handy dandy umbrella, so he’s fine!]
“Aha! Now you are beginning to understand.”
“I see,” she said.
Derpy: *pops out from under the debris* Wow! I’m really sorry. I don’t know how that happened!
Big Macintosh: *struggles to pull himself out of the rubble*
Derpy: Oh, hi Big Mac!
Big Macintosh: *makes a face at her, grabs her tail in his teeth and starts to limp off, hauling her with him*
Derpy: That was still fun though! We should do that again!...
By Sandra Hill
Derpy: *crashes in through the ceiling* Hiiiiii! Sorry, I don’t know how that happened!
Big Macintosh: *just barely missed getting hit and just stares in surprise. is she okay?*
Phineas: [already there with popcorn] Hi! How did you even get up there? That’s pretty cool, though... I guess landing probably wasn’t very comfortable. You ok?
Derpy: Oh, this happens all the time! I’m ok! But I really don’t know how I got here...
Phineas: Well, that’s ok! I’m not even really sure I know what we’re supposed to be doing, so a little confusion is probably called for. As long as you’re not hurt, it’s not really a problem!
Derpy: Well, I think we’re just supposed to talk about stuff in the book while it happens! And we’re supposed to yell or something for some reason everyone once in awhile.
Phineas: Oh. Ok. That’s a little weird, but it shouldn’t be that hard, right?
“Love slave?” Maggie squeaked out.
Big Macintosh: *already looking uncomfortable*
Derpy: Ok! So the main character is a mouse...*takes out notebook and makes notes*
Phineas: Oh, is that what’s going on? Usually I can keep up better than this, but... I’m kind of already lost.
Big Macintosh: Eeeyup. *he’s not sure what’s going on either, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to know*
As a professional, Maggie shouldn’t have been shocked. Patients made outrageous suggestions to her all the time.
Derpy: Like mixing ranch dressing with...with...jalapenos?
Phineas: Actually, that might be pretty good. Ranch with something like chocolate, maybe. Though, given the right chemical differentiation... nevermind, sorry. I’ll do that later.
But when the proposition came from a compellingly handsome man with pale blond hair, translucent gray eyes, and sun-tanned skin...well, Maggie had to admit to a teensy bit of temptation.
Derpy: ...Huh? To do what?
She would have to be extra careful not to cross that ethical line between patient and doctor...even if the patient was drop-dead gorgeous, despite the fact that he wore boring blue hospital-issue pajama bottoms, ankle restraints, and a white straightjacket. Even his bare feet, which were huge--a narrow size thirteen, she would guess--were surprisingly sexy.
Derpy: And BIG! Those are big hooves.
Big Macintosh: Eeeeyup. *because yes, that’s the thing to take from that paragraph*
She had to smile at that latter whimsy. Yep, there were strange goings-on inside Maggie these days, if she was getting turned on by feet.
Big Macintosh: *looks at his own hooves, then at Derpy’s, then down at Phineas’s feet, and just looks confused*
Derpy: So...she’s an electric mouse...? *scribbles something out, re-scribbles*
Phineas: Wait, there’s something going on inside her? Maybe she should go to a doctor. If it’s other the normal things going on... yeaaaa that just doesn’t sound good.
Actually, the psychiatrist in her had a ready, logical explanation:
Derpy: She’s a Pikachu! *turns notepad to reveal crude Pikachu drawing*
Big Macintosh: *tosses a pokeball that just happened to be under his seat at the screen*
on a big, strong man like Joe, his bare feet appeared vulnerable and open to...well, touch--as other parts of his covered body were not.
Her face flushing with heat at the mere thought of touch, Maggie experienced a twinge of guilt as she glanced at the restraints that were put on him whenever he entered the room. They were necessary, though, even with a security guard posted outside the door, because he fought confinement. Fighting back was a natural reaction, of course, but it proved that he could be dangerous, until hospital experts could complete a diagonsis.
Derpy: ....Oh! So he’s sick! You shouldn’t be near him, you might get sick too!
Big Macintosh: If it ain’t too late.
He was lounging on the bed now, his back propped up by two fluffy pillows
Derpy: He’s so lucky! Those sound comfy...
and his long legs spread out on the narrow mattress, crossed at the ankles. His posture said he was relaxed, but the tension of the corded muscles in his neck said he was ready to pounce at the first opportunity.
Derpy: So he’s a cat!....*her eyes slooooooowly widen in horror*
He nodded in response to her question, which she’d already forgotten with all her musings. Oh, yes, she’d exclaimed at his ridiculous love-slave proposition.
“Yea, a love slave.” He spoke slowly, with a strong foreign accent. Clearly English was not his first language.
Derpy: He still speaks it really well, though!
“Release me from these restraints, and we can negotiate an agreement.”
Derpy: No! NO! Don’t do it, Pikachu! He wants to EAT YOU!!
She shook her head and pulled her chair closer to the bed,
Big Macintosh: Nope! *why is she getting closer to him when he must be restrained for a reason and tried to coerce her into slavery?*
pencil and notepad at the ready. It was time she got a more complete background on this guy, now that he’d finally deigned to speak. “I can’t release you till we’re certain you won’t harm others, or yourself.”
“Why would I harm myself?” he scoffed.
Derpy: I do it all the time! But on accident. I’m a little clumsy...
She shrugged. “Lots of people do.”
He looked skeptical at that statement.
She smiled as some of his words flitted through her brain. “You would actually negotiate a contract to be a...love slave?” He face heated up over those last words.
Derpy: ...Contract? *headtilt*
Big Macintosh: *shudders as she does that, though not really sure why*
To her dismay, his intelligent eyes registered her embarrassment, and he winked. Oh, my God! He winked at me. Woah! Since when is a wink an erotic signal?
Derpy: *blink* I think Twilight would know the answer! *starts yelling loud enough to cause cracks in the ceiling* TWILIGHT SPAAAAARKLE!! SINCE WHEN IS A WINK AN EROTIC SIGNAL??...AND WHAT’S EROTIC MEAN???
Big Macintosh: *flails as the room starts shaking and shoves a hoof over Derpy’s mouth*
Derpy: AN*mmmmph mppphm???*
Phineas: [pulls out a metal umbrella in case the ceiling falls; and offers one to the ponies, just in case.]
Maybe my girls are right. Maybe I really do need a man. No, no, no. That’s the last thing I need.
Derpy: You seem really confused about what you need.
Maggie also saw the way his eyes scanned her body, from the top of her short hairdo, over her silk blouse, short skirt, and sheer stockings, down to her high heels. The jacket that matched the skirt hung on a wall peg back in her office. She was attending a seminar later today.
Joe liked what he saw--Maggie could tell by the brief flicker of his eyelids and the dilating of his pupils, especially as his gaze paused over her breasts--
Derpy: No! BAD CAT!
and she had to force herself not to react, either in anger or withdrawl.
It had taken Maggie years to become comfortable with her body. As a young girl who had developed much earlier than her friends,
Derpy: If that’s so, where’s her cutie mark?
and as a young woman who had always had a curvy, voluptuous figure that made males think she was ‘easy,’
Derpy: ...Easy? *headtilt*
Maggie had gone out of her way to dress in a manner that would hide her figure, and to behave contrary to her sensual nature. But she was changing--her short, saucy hairdo
Derpy: When I think of saucy, I think of spaghetti.
Big Macintosh: That ain’t a nice way to describe her hair.
and the belly-button ring being the most recent signs--and she no longer dressed repressively. If people wanted to form the wrong opinions of her, that was their problem, not hers. She didn’t wear slut clothes,
Derpy: No, she wore normal clothing!
but then she didn’t dress like a librarian, either.
Derpy: Well, she--wait, but why is she worried about her clothes? She’s a Pikachu, we’d all understand!
That didn’t mean she felt entirely comfortable under the carnal scrutiny of this handsome fellow. But she wasn’t dying of mortification, either.
She held her chin high in defiance, and he chuckled, as if he understood...which was impossible, of course.
She hoped.
Derpy: This Pikachu-lady is kind of confusing.
Big Macintosh: Eeeeeyup.
“You would actually negotiate a contract to be a love slave?” Even as Maggie repeated her question, she wondered why she was pursuing this line of questioning. In her own defense, psychologists were taught to go with the flow of the patient’s dialogue...to lead unobtrusively, when necessary, but mostly to follow, without censorship.
Derpy: But I don’t think anyone can follow what’s happening!
“Yea...if it would bring me closer to freedom.”
“Have you ever been a love slave before?”
Derpy: Cat Dude/Joe: No, but I’ve been...a love fool! Get it? Love fool! And I wear a cardigan...
Big Macintosh: *facehoof*
Derpy: ...I tried! That’s what counts, right?
His eyes shot wide at her question. “Nay. Have you?”
“No,” she answered with a nervous laugh. “And I’m not interested now.”
His only answer was the disbelieving lift of his eyebrows. He flicked his tongue briefly over his full lips, as if to signal that, even if she wasn’t interested, he definitely was.
Lordy, lordy!
Derpy: Uh, guys? I am really getting mixed signals about this whole conversation.
This had to be a joke, but he displayed no sign of humor. In fact, the chiseled features of his fine face lacked the laugh lines that should have been etched about the mouth and eyes of a man his age--about mid-thirties. If the eyes were the windows to the soul, his bespoke grimness, not a life filled with smiles.
Big Macintosh: He oughta talk to Pinkie Pie.
Derpy: Yeah! She’d cheer him right up!
Who was this man? The Orcaland people claimed they’d never seen him before. A police search of his fingertips
Derpy: Wow. These police are good if they can search inside those!
had brought up nothing. No family or friends had shown up claiming a missing person. He seemed to be a man without a past.
Phineas: Uhh... couldn’t he just be from somewhere else? Since, you know, he’s got an accent and everything.
Derpy: But that would make sense!
Maggie shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to bring up the love-slave subject again. But then she chastised herself: no topic should be taboo in the therapy relationship.
Derpy: No topic! Not even botany!...I bet she doesn’t like botany.
With that in mind she asked, “Exactly how would you negotiate a love-slave contract?”
Derpy: Lawyers!
She expected him to laugh, or at least grin, but his expression was somber. “On your side, there would be the promise of freedom. On my side would be the promise of bed pleasuring.”
Derpy: ...bed...pleasuring?
A ripple, like an erotic shock, rushed through Maggie with stunning force. And that was amazing, really, because, while she’d made great gains in her insecurities about her body, she still harbored strong inhibitions about her sexuality. Case in point, her girls’ father, Judd Haskell, who’d once said she was “as exciting as nailing a bowl of mashed potatoes.”
Big Macintosh: *stomach suddenly growls, and he looks a little sheepish. Mashed potatoes sound delicious right now*
Derpy: Mashed potatoes with cheese and butter and GRAVY! That is exciting!
Big Macintosh: Eeeeeyup.
“I see.” Maggie blinked several times to clear her head under the intense survey of the man half reclining on the bed before her. He saw way too much. “Define freedom,” she encouraged.
Derpy: Cambot? Your turn.
Derpy’s Cambot: free·dom: noun
1. the state of being free or at liberty rather than in confinement or under physical restraint: He won his freedom after a retrial.
2. exemption from external control, interference, regulation, etc.
3. the power to determine action without restraint.
4. political or national independence.
5. personal liberty, as opposed to bondage or slavery: a slave who bought his freedom.
Derpy: Thaaaanky! *hoof up* Hope that helps, Pikachu!
“I’d rather define bed pleasuring.”
Derpy: ...*looks at Cambot, then starts yelling again, causing more cracks to appear in the ceiling* TWILIGHT SPAAAARKLE!! WHAT’S BED PLEASURING!?
Big Macintosh: *Winces and ducks under Phineas’s umbrella for a moment. How does anypony have a voice that loud anyway? He’s reaaaaallly worried about the ceiling now*
A slight grin tugged at his lips, and Maggie thought he might not be without a sense of humor, after all. Perhaps it was just buried beneath the surface...or whatever pain had caused this breakdown.
Derpy: Cat Dude/Joe: I am Joe! Welcome to pain!
“You talk in such an odd way,” she commented. “I can’t quite place the dialect.”
Derpy: Pikachu/Maggie: But I bet its foreign!
“Hah! You think I talk oddly? You should hear yourself...and I do not just mean that sex-voice.”
Sex-voice? Oh, he must be referring to the huskiness.
Derpy: ...So...she’s...she’s a Husky too? But she’s also a Pikachu...er...*scribbles and starts ripping paper in her notepad*
That was another part of her body makeup that had contributed to her early reputation as easy. Leave it to this fellow to home in on it, right off. “My voice has sounded raspy like this since I was a child. A severe throat infection,” she said, more defensively than she’d intended. “But your dialect...where are you from?”
“Vestfold.”
“Huh? Is that in Texas?”
“I have no idea where this Tax-us is.
Big Macintosh: Wallstreet.
Derpy: On April 15th!
Vestfold is in Norway. I am a Norseman. A Viking.”
Phineas: Cool!
Derpy: What’s a Norseman?
“I see.” Now they were getting somewhere. Among his other mental problems, this guy thought he was a Viking...although, come to think of it, he did resemble a Norse god.
Derpy: Pikachu/Maggie: Oh, you’re a god! That explains why I burst into flames upon seeing you!
She made a few quick notes on her pad.
“We were negotiating our love-slave contract when--”
Derpy: Wait, he really was being serious about that contract?
“I never agreed to negotiate any such thing,” she interjected, perhaps too indignantly.
“I have much experience in bed sport, of course.”
Derpy: ...Badminton?
“Of course,” she replied, and immediately regretted her sarcasm.
Either he failed to hear the sarcasm in her voice, or he chose to ignore it. Good.
“Now, I cannot claim great finesse in more refined bed sport--no flowery words or handholding or such--and, in truth, I do not favor kissing all that much,
Derpy: Cat Dude/Joe: But that’s because I always end up coughing hairballs when I do!
but I have been told my endurance is remarkable. That and my size.” Her only response was a gurgle, which he must have taken for a compliment because he continued, “And, of course, all Norsemen know the secret of a woman’s S-spot.”
Derpy: So you know how to perform a splenectomy on women?...wait...
“Don’t you mean G-spot?” Criminy, was she the one going crazy here? What would prompt her to encourage him with questions like that?
Derpy: ...Oh. OH! NOW I know what they’re talking about! *eyes widened* Ooooooooh.
Phineas: I... don’t. Should I be happy about that? [he’s getting that impression.]
“I know naught of a G-spot, but all Vikings know that the S-spot is far superior to any other sex spot.” The lack of expression on his face gave her no clue as to whether he was serious or not.
Derpy: ...Um, Big Mac?
Big Macinrosh: Nnnnope.
“Well, this love-slave business would never work, I can tell you that right away,” she informed him with a nervous laugh, “Because
Derpy: Pikachu: E.L. James has a monopoly on the market!...*blink* I don’t get what I just said.
most women like kissing.”
“Do you?”
“Uh...well, yes. Of course.” Oh, good heavens! My tongue has developed a mind of its own.
Derpy: I think your tongue might know what’s going on better than you do, Pikachu lady.
He seemed to consider her faltering words, the whole time staring at her with those luminous gray eyes. Finally he said, “Agreed.”
“Agreed? What does that mean?” she practically shrieked.
Derpy: Cambot!
Derpy’s Cambot: a·greed: adjective
arranged or set by common consent: They met at the agreed time.
He arched an eyebrow at the panic in her voice. “I agree to give kisses, and you agree to give...well, some things I want--nay, need.”
Like what? she desperately wanted to ask.
Derpy: Pizza!
Big Macintosh: A way out of this book!
Luckily her good sense returned, and she bridled her tongue. Enough was enough on this dangerous subject. “I am not in need of a love slave, thank you very much. We should get back to the subject at hand--this client interview.”
“Is that what this is? An interview?” He frowned. “By-the-by, m’lady Muck-bride,
Big Macintosh: *snorts. that ain’t a way to refer to a lady.*
are you married?”
She shook her head in confusion. What had her marital status to do with anything? Oh. He must be worried about potential conflicts with another man in the event she agreed to the love-slave business...which would be when hell froze over. “No, I’m not married.”
“I thought not. No offense, m’lady, but wedlock will not be party of our love-slave agreement.”
It took a moment before her fuzzy brain absorved the fact that he was declining a marriage proposal from her. “You...you...” she sputtered.
“Am I dead?” he asked suddenly.
Derpy: This guy really likes changing the subject on her, doesn’t he?
Big Macintosh: *slumps back in his chair and plays dead*
“Wh-what?” Now that question really surprised her. “Why would you ask a question like that?”
Phineas: And the other ones didn’t? That’s a little, um... scary.
“Well, the anchor of my longship got tangled in the seas somewhere beyond Iceland, and--”
“Iceland!” she exclaimed. “Joe, you are apparently lost.”
Derpy: ...Don’t worry, Joe. I’m lost too. *looks slightly dizzy*
He frowned. “Why do you address me as Joe?”
“Because you told me your name was Joe Rand. Oh...do you mean that I’m being too familiar? Do you before I call you Mr. Rand?”
“Nay, I prefer that you address me by my real name. Johr-rund,” he sounded out for her. “Jorund Ericsson.”
She put a hand over her mouth to hide a smile at her mistake. “Jorund. What an unusual name! But nice...very nice! I think I’ll just call you by your nickname, though--Joe.”
“Joe the Viking?”
Derpy: Agreed!
He pursed his lips pensively. “Somehow it does not have the same luster as Jorund the Viking, or Jorund the Warrior.” Then he flashed her an irresistible grin.
She grinned back at him.
“I know I was--am--lost,” he confessed. “But it was that damned Thora who caused me to end up here.”
Derpy: Oh! Isn’t that typical of a tom, blaming his queen for getting lost! He could have just asked for directions at a gas station or something!
Big Macintosh: Shoulda taken that turn at Albuquerque.
“Thora?” For some reason, the thought of Joe being with a woman caused her stomach to clench. No, no, no. She couldn’t allow herself to become involved with a patient. Besides, for all she knew, he might be married. “Is Thora your wife?” she asked with as much nonchalance as she could muster.
“Do you make mock of me?”
Big Macintosh: Eeeyup.
Derpy: She’s a pretty good cook.
She took that for a no. Whew!
Big Macintosh: *flails exasperatedly. Didn’t she say she wasn’t supposed to get involved?!*
“Your lover?”
He snorted with disgust. “Thora is a killer whale.”
Derpy: ....Your lover is a killer whale?
“Thora...a killer whale? You named a killer whale?”
“I did. Well, actually, my brother Magnus and my sailors did. And, if you must know, Thora is the most irritating animal this side of the Baltic. And she has bad breath, too.”
Phineas: That’s not very nice. It’s not like whales can brush their teeth or anything. Though maybe if someone invented whale toothpaste...
“I see.”
“Why do you keep saying, ‘I see,’ when you clearly do not see?”
Derpy: Pikachu/Maggie: That’s not true, I have proof from my doctor! I have perfect vision!
Maggie put her notebook aside and rubbed at the furrows in her forehead with the fingers of one hand. “A killer whale brought you here...from Iceland? A killer whale with bad breath?”
Derpy: ......TWILIGHT SPAAAAARKLE!! CAN A KILLER WHALE HAVE BAD BREATH??? AND CAN A KILLER WHALE BRING SOMEONE FROM ICELAND?? AND...WHERE’S ICELAND??? *chunks of the ceiling falls down*
Big Macintosh: !!! *tries to run for cover, but can’t move too fast because of his leg and gets buried in a heap of rubble*
Phineas: [well he has his handy dandy umbrella, so he’s fine!]
“Aha! Now you are beginning to understand.”
“I see,” she said.
Derpy: *pops out from under the debris* Wow! I’m really sorry. I don’t know how that happened!
Big Macintosh: *struggles to pull himself out of the rubble*
Derpy: Oh, hi Big Mac!
Big Macintosh: *makes a face at her, grabs her tail in his teeth and starts to limp off, hauling her with him*
Derpy: That was still fun though! We should do that again!...