Tearing flesh out of your bones

Spraying your blood all over me

Your screams are like applause in my ears

And there's nothing you can do

Tied to that bed

Only torso left untouched

Ha ha ha, you'll be beautiful tomorrow,

I promise…

Sad that you won't see it.

(c) Jimi

-------------------------

(P.S. My dear friend-lover-whatever, the man who's Visser Three from outside and Jill from inside, thank you for the great poem.)

Chapter 6 – Esplin's Dream

Visser Three

I swagger into the torture chamber. In the mirror on the wall I see an incredibly handsome Andalite male, whose muscles are very visible under his glossy fur. Self-importance and masculinity shine from him. I nearly begin to desire him, until I remember that it's me.

In the rack, which is actually a research board from the hospital wing of the Mother Ship, there is a young Andalite male lying. He's tied up tightly. He is helpless… so helpless that it's arousing. Fear makes his face even more beautiful. He was the only survivor of a destroyed Andalite ship the day before, and for that I rewarded him. With myself.

The Andalite, however, didn't treat his reward right. He took me five times during last night and was never so good that I would have felt something. Besides, his member was too small. So, I had let that Andalite abuse me and hadn't got any pleasure from it myself. I give it back now.

I make sure that the Andalite is properly tied, and grin viciously.

(Now, let's continue the games, dear.)

I take my first instrument from the table next to the research board – a big and very sharp knife. I show it to my prisoner, so that he understands how sharp it really is. I see the horror on his face as he prays for mercy, and laugh. I watch him trying to wriggle out of the ties. But it's useless. His destiny is sealed.

I press the knife against the Andalite's thigh. Slowly, painfully slowly, I cut. The Andalite's eyes open wider from pain. The knife sinks deeper and deeper, making the wound larger and larger. Blue-black blood bursts out. The knife cuts the skin, the thin fat layer, muscles… the tissues break and get loose from each other… until the edge meets the dark blue bone. For an impulse, I slash off the tendon going under the muscle. The Andalite yells in pain.

(Aaaaaahhh! That hurts! It tears my muscles off! Aaaaah!)

(No longer), I smirk. I take a small axe to my hand and hit the bone off, and on the next moment my brain is full of even more horrid thought-speech cry.

Why do they always have to cry so loud? It causes headache.

I do the same to the Andalite's each leg. Quite well, after the last leg I'm fed up with that. Also his hands, which move too much, annoy me. I take a hammer and two six inch nails, and nail the hands to the metal edge of the table. More cry.

Then I get an idea. On Earth there is a species called "horses" which humans exploit. Horses have four legs with hooves, just like the Andalites, and humans usually nail bent pieces of metal to their hooves. And for some strange reason, in my toolbox there are four "horse-shoes" made of an Earth metal called lead…

I hit them to the Andalite's hooves. In case you don't know: unlike a horse's hooves, an Andalite's hooves contain nerves. Lots of sensitive nerves. I listen to the Andalite's painful screams and feel something stiffening in between my back legs. Ah, nothing arouses me more than watching a suffering Andalite! But I don't take what I want yet. I have to torture myself too… I, however, turn the Andalite on his stomach already.

His legs flop over the edges of the table. The lead shoes are heavy… and only a few muscles, tendons, and strips of skin tie his legs to his body. I watch them stretching… and finally snapping. The Andalite's legs drop onto the floor, and he himself squalls so loud that the whole disgusting green planet below us surely hears.

Now the shaft in between my back legs has grown so large and hard that I can't make it wait any more. It wants to be pushed into some tight place that would grasp it properly – such as the rear of a sweet young Andalite warrior. I take one step closer and lift my other back leg, so that the Andalite sees how gigantic my tool is. I'm not sure if he is already "beyond pain" or lost his mind and ability to understand in pain, but at least he looks horrified.

(No, no), I hear him squeaking.

I take my place from behind him and pull the stumps of his back legs as open as possible. I see the hole under the hairs. So small, so tight… but soon not any more. As I mount the Andalite, I begin to wonder: how can I ever fit in? Well, no matter. I thrust as hard as I can, and my shaft does slide in! I start grinding, and do I even need to mention that the Andalite screams? I laugh.

(You love this, don't you? Well, soon you will get something sharper…)

I rape the brave little Andalite warrior at least half an hour and fill his insides with the hot liquid of life. As I roll off him, I realize that he has fainted. I take a syringe from the toolbox and empty it through the Andalite's skin. His eyes shot wide open and he screams.

(Why did you wake me up to this pain? Why?)

(Because it's fun, you Andalite filth), I croak. I lift my tail – I got the blade sharpened the day before – and with one powerful move stick it to the slit that is quite much wider now after my visit.

(This is what I call a shaft!)

The Andalite cries and screams out louder and louder.

('Aah, more, dear Visser, give me more' – is that what you are saying?) I yell at least as loudly. (Is that what you are saying, you nasty little dapsen?)

I saw him until the blade comes out of his back.

I am covered by the Andalite's blue-black blood. I lay down on the floor and roll in the blood, I know it makes me more handsome… Then my eyes meet the Andalite's ones that see nothing any more. Light green, a bit slanted eyes…

A female face.

Jill's.

(Visser? Are you all right?)

I woke up, wet from sweat. The same female Andalite face was in front of my eyes. It was not classically beautiful, rather originally attractive.

(Of course I am), I snapped, being blunter than I meant.

(Forgive me, it was quite a silly question), Jillay uttered. She lifted the quilt. (You came when you slept. On the sheets. And on my fur.)

Some other Yeerk would probably have apologized but I never think the word "sorry" loud.

Jill giggled. She leaned against me and laid her head cautiously on my side. It felt good.

(Visser? If you don't mind me asking – what sort of dream did you have?)

(Are you sure you want to know?) I muttered. (I thought you have already learnt… The galaxy has lots of more attractive places than Visser Three's imagination.)

(I don't think so), Jill whispered and caressed my back. (I think… you're beautiful. Both your appearance and your mind.)

It sounded great. Nobody had said anything like that to me before, not even those flatterers creeping around me.

I pressed my palms on Jill's cheeks and described my dream in detail, leaving just the end untold, looking deep into her main eyes. Though I tried and tried to find signs of disgust from her look, all I saw was a pure aroused smile.

(Do you often think of Andalites?) Jill asked. (Males or females?)

I rolled onto my other side. Would that Visser of the jiafileks draw her line to an actual treason – desiring Andalites, I mean real ones? Could I trust in her, that she wouldn't save my confession to her modern computer which she could control by thought-speech orders? I'm not telling lies when I say that it was a matter of life and death. If Jill walked to the Council of Thirteen with a record featuring me, Officially Pronounced Immoral, telling that I enjoyed raping Andalites… I would get arrested before I could say "but I'm still loyal to the Empire". My explanations wouldn't be listened, and no Yeerk would care of the fact that I had done more than any Visser in the war with the Andalites. I would be sentenced from sympathy for Andalites – according to the Council sense, only a traitor can mix humiliating and causing pain in tormenting the enemies – and tortured to death.

Could I reveal my most abhorrent sins to the Yeerk who was one of the few beings I had felt togetherness with?

(Yes, I do), I finally said. (Quite often. Andalites are great… Intelligent and so beautiful.)

(It's true), Jill said. (Guess what? Some call the both of us traitors because we have Andalite bodies and faces. They say we are filthy because we have infested filthy bodies and control them by wrapping ourselves around their filthy brains… and that we acquire the evil thoughts of the Andalites, since their minds are constantly with us. I know one Yeerk who refuses to come to the same pool with me, for he thinks there's 'Andalite dirt' in me. But I can see from those Yeerks that they would in fact like to be like us. Maybe they are not conscious of it, but still. They envy us.)

I nodded. That made sense. Of course the ordinary Yeerks envied creatures like us, I mean both jiafileks and Andalite-Controllers. They called us unnatural, because they knew deep in their mind that Yeerks, who have our views of honesty, experience more and achieve more pleasure in their life than those who have no courage to disagree with traditions.

Then I said it.

(I have raped Andalites.)

Jill was silent. I felt her hand on my ribs.

(What was that like, Visser?) she said, as if she had talked to herself and not to me. (Did it feel good? Different than with me?)

(It is so arousing when a virtuous female or an honored warrior struggles under you…) I said, in an absent voice as well. (I can violate their precious purity, the worshipped manifestation of their cult of hypocrisy, with one leap and a few moves! And I enjoy of it, for Kandrona's sake, I enjoy of it!)

I almost shouted out the last sentence. Jill stroked me.

(I believe you), she uttered. (You see… do you know what I have been dreaming on?)

I held my breath.

(Tough Andalite warriors, in every meaning of the word!) she hissed lustfully. (How one could release the pressures of decency with me, together with nine other ones!)

(You can say that again), I sighed. My eyes grew to a twisted excited grin. I decided that it was the turn of obscener fantasies. (What about… the young and innocent?)

(Ah!) Jill cried out. When she began to talk, she reminded me of an Andalite child who has just found out that rubbing the base of her tail against a smooth tree brings strange pleasure. (Brainwashed aristh boys whose young body is just developing towards the toughness of a grown-up male, and who blush when they see a beautiful female and feel shame of their first erections! The young, innocent and naive… I want to have a fucking harem of them! I want to wash all the innocence and purity off them, first drive them mad of lust and then make them satisfy me, until none of them ever thinks of the greatest lie of the Andalites – the honor!)

I rolled around so that we were face to face, wrapped my arms around her and squeezed. She was wonderful! I whispered to her something like that when Earth would be taken over, we would attack the Andalite Home and make the most beautiful and decent young Andalites our slaves… and then, in the name of Kandrona, then we would start having so damn much fun that we could hardly save the Council from knowing it! Oatmeal and pretty Andalites, so that the Visser and his mistress would be high!

(We both would debauch ourselves to death), Jill confirmed in an excited voice. (I would get at least twenty males in a day, handsome and muscular ones… but naturally none of them could be more handsome than you.)

(I would pump myself full of potency drugs and do as many females and males in a day!) I boasted.

(And whip the young males who fuck me, so that they would never exhaust! And if nothing else worked, you would leap on them and give them a push!)

(All of them would be whipped! Twice a day, five times if they did something wrong!)

Jill had very good ideas every now and then. You can guess that we found each other's hands from between the other's back legs soon.

(What is making a husband cheat his wife like?) Jill finally asked, as she was shivering and panting after the climax.

(You have no idea, beautiful), I laughed lewdly. (It's part of why I am this terrible a jiafilek – I love to humiliate him by using his body to debauchery. Look, Andalite, I respect your artificial marriage institution this much!)

(I wish my host was married too), Jill said. (As far as I know, the Andalite females believe in marriage even more eagerly than the males, and get more dismayed of indecency. Imagine how that sort of stupid being would scream in horror if I controlled her and you took me through the upper way!)

I laughed.

(The most marriages between Andalites are unfaithful), Jill claimed. (The husbands use paid females, the creatures who don't officially even exist, and the wives have young and handsome lovers. Any sensible being would have learnt and accepted by now that the marriage institution is not going to work. But not Andalites. They can be good in sciences, but the common sense they lack. They love the chastity-gilding of their society too much.)

I cuddled against Jill. She had crystallized the basic idea of the Andalite society almost perfectly. The only thing I have to add is that besides hypocrisy, the thing they call real goodness made me sick. Why couldn't a being do as it pleases if it has a chance?

Well, if someone didn't understand it, that wasn't my problem. I was Visser Three, the strong one who didn't hesitate to use his right of the strongest.