I am releasing The Incredible Heidi Wasabi to the public! ADULTS ONLY chapter 19

Previously I have only shared a G-rated chapter as a stand alone short story.  The bulk of the tale is in fact explicit erotic menage contemporary paranormal fantasy. 

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED-- if it is illegal for persons your age in your location to read porn, stop now.

THE  INCREDIBLE HEIDI WASABI

 by

Helgaleena

Chapter Nineteen
Spitted

It got to be quite the habit to share our bed games with Steen. I enjoyed the simple fact that he
knew I was there. For a while he needed to be content with only my behind, as Rufus resolutely
kept my face toward himself. But somehow Steen prevailed upon him to be more inventive.
I was good for that. While Steen loves to be penetrated, Rufus does not, and so they could meet
and balance in me.

Somehow all things meet in Steen. He can be just like a woman, despite his flat hairy chest, then
the next minute take charge of the situation like the alpha of the Virgens that he is, with us
bending to his will for the sheer rightness of it. He taught us how to balance ourselves in a circle
of in and out. He also showed us how to take turns in a circle. I think it takes both of us to
balance Steen.

But at the same time this means that it took Steen and me time to realize we needed each other as
much as we did Rufus.

Would anyone else have given me the status of a separate being the way Steen did so graciously?
I don’t know, and I don’t want to. I’m thankful to him for seeing me as real. And Not being
frightened like a kittycat, but matter of fact about me, like his blasted snooty ferrets. His
multicolored changeable eyes see so much. Like when he realized about the gift of misery to the
darkness, or that I didn’t know about breathing. Little did I know that Rufus was bringing his

relationship difficulties with me to Steen, and that things Rufus taught me to manage this world
better, he had gotten advice from Steen about. Steen was just always around.

They worked together, so that didn’t strike anyone as odd, including me, the ‘pretend’ girlfriend.
And I did work on getting to know Steen, just because he’s naturally fascinating. He has hair that
color that’s in between all the colors, so that depending on how he wants to appear, it looks
blond or brown or red. His eyes are like that too—they shift color depending on what his state of
being is. Notice I didn’t say ‘how he’s feeling’. With Steen it’s never only that. He embodies
whatever it is he’s focused on with all parts of himself.

His eyes are really quite big, but they beetle up under a shelf of brow I have seen since on a lot
of Danes. Most Danes are not as lofty as Steen, except maybe Hans Christian Andersen. And he
didn’t glower like Steen, at least in the pictures I’ve seen. And I have heard he was awkward and
clumsy. Steen is not that. He’s an athlete and a blade dancer, and he can glower like anything.
Steen cooks things, actual colorful compositions of food, even in the bus kitchenette. And he
clips the ferrets’ toenails and saves the clippings. He has little jars of hundreds of different
things, and uses them the same way he does herbs and spices. I guess it’s recipe magic. The
recipe, or magic, for using the ferret droppings I know. They go outside the door of wherever the
bus is parked and he mumbles some words as he spreads them out. He explained, when he saw
me watching him do that, that almost every creature fears ferrets enough to leave their home
alone. Even Sasquatch. I had to google who that was, of course.

His love of soccer he explained to me as well. It involves the substitution of magic for warfare.
The ‘ball’ in many of these human games is actual balls of a sacrificed animal originally, or
sometimes an enemy’s head. He calls them the sacred games. And he truly thinks that if these
games are run right, the need for warfare can be eliminated. Rufus grumbled at that point that it’s
a great way to keep stupid peoples’ minds off politics. Steen just smirked and said, “Circus et
pane, min ven.” And then he crossed his legs and his arms and leaned back belly up, forked
beard pointed skyward, daring Rufus to tickle where his shirt was too short. They started fooling
with each other and I had to go look that up on the Wiktionary.

Another thing about Steen is how many things he is able to do. He could play every part in the
Virgen Steel lineup if he had to, but he knows he’s not the best at most of those roles, and so he
remains on bass. That way the others are guided by him the way a keel guides a boat. But fans
always laugh at how he’s singing along with Rufus lots of times, only they don’t have to listen to
his yelps because he doesn’t get anywhere close to a mike. One moment he’ll be screwing up his
face, singing his lungs out and shaking his hair. The next moment he’ll be nearly invisibly quiet,
standing on one leg in his trademark way and peering around him at how the others are doing
like an overseer. The moment after that, he’ll sling his bass around to his back like a rifle and
pull out his broadsword or his cutlass to intimidate whatever ghoul just fell out of the wings.

Once the sound system went out, ironically in the middle of a song called “Power Surge”, and it
took twenty minutes to come back right. It was an outdoor venue and I came down out of the
breeze I was enjoying to see what was wrong. Normally I would never get so close to the sound,
but there wasn’t any! Steen’s eyes flashed green as leeks and then he signaled for the band’s
attention by holding up his right hand, his picking hand, and making a fist.

Oh his fierceness! His hair was stuck to his face in sweaty ribbons and his cheeks were glowing

and glistening. He bared his white even teeth in a snarl, taking deep breaths that made his bare
chest heave against the twin braids of his beard. Then he brought that fist slowly and
ceremoniously to the center of his chest and roared—

“WE’VE GOT BALLS!”

He swiveled his head around to the wings and said to Manny, “Throw me that shrunken head,
my man; we’ll give ‘em something to see.” Manny couldn’t find a shrunken head of course
because there wasn’t one, but there was a soccer ball rolling around that Steen had been using to
relax with earlier. When he threw it out onstage, the crowd went wild. Rufus followed his lead.
With wild yells of “BALLS!” they slung their axes behind them and began to kick it back and
forth.

Murray Lin came out and Davey; even Ole joined in after a bit, once Manny came out to be a
sixth.

Every time they got a ‘goal’ shot into the wings, they all would yell, “Balls!” and soon the
audience was doing the same. That concert made the front pages of regular newspapers, not just
music mags.

So you see what a hero he is. I would be a fool not to love him as much as he is willing to love
me.

But there is also my realization, begun in dream, that there will always be a space between us,
because we are simply too different. He might be more magic than most humans, but he is still a
human. And he did not make me. Our magics are different.

I’m selfish. I don’t want there to be a space between me and anyone I love, or at least not for
long. But in some ways I can never be as close to Steen as I am to Rufy and that is simply
because in a way, Rufy made me out of his own essence like that Pygmalion guy did his wife, or
that Blodwedd made of flowers. Still, he couldn’t have done it without having Steen around for a
guiding example of how magic is.

The result was me, I guess.

But sometimes Steen and I are completely incomprehensible to each other, even if the minute
before we were reading each other’s minds. It fluctuates between us like intersecting sine waves,
and it constitutes, he says, the portal to something. I dreamed that this was true. But what it is the
portal to, I do not know. Nor does he. I don’t know why not knowing doesn’t bother him, when
he enjoys knowing so many things.

How Steen proposed—or rather, found out he ought to propose propose—was discordant like that.
Rufus and I were enjoying a nice vanilla morning together, where he screwed me up against the
kitchen counter and got my face all puffy and rosy, and then he had cream pie and coffee. His
lovely blue eyes rolled up to mine as I luxuriated in his stubbly jaw contact with the insides of
my legs. My feet may be underdeveloped, but my legs are quite good, thanks!

A few last leisurely licks and then he told me he was going to the Society for Creative
Anachronism camp at the Renaissance festival for three days and wanted me to stay with Steen,
not come along.

I was shocked.

“Babe, I’m going to be in a pup tent surrounded by sharp blades. I’m teaching a workshop on
blade work—Rude’s Swashbuckling for Buccaneers. You wouldn’t like it.”

Of course he had gotten involved with SCA because Steen had been in it first. I should have seen
it coming. With as much good grace as I could muster I agreed to stick with Steen instead and
give him his blade time. Not that I wasn’t able to peek into his thoughts whenever I felt the need;
it was just the cuddles and the results of cuddles I’d be skimping on.

 He put his wonderful fingers to my forehead and they went through it, in the eye screen place. It
felt liquid-y and I wanted to cry with gladness. Sometimes it feels as if the energies between us
are like rubber bands, like our wedding bands only right through us and joining us like an a sort
of umbilical wheel of light. Sometimes they pull us together when we are actually far apart; other
times they keep us so tight to each other we feel like Siamese twins and I can forget to breathe
again.

Rufy’s such an extrovert he had to explain me to the world with some sort of excuses and
fictions, because he couldn’t hide that he was in love again. Even if I wouldn’t ever be his only
female, he likes having one that’s really his. And the most explaining of course had been to
Steen, who was always around and saw the most. Nowadays he was the only one I got shared
with.

I didn’t mind being shared, even with strangers, but the sort of situation where we can do the
share was not as often as he liked.

His fems in every port weren’t taking kindly to me, or the rumors of me. They preferred to flatter
themselves that they were stealing him from some other girl when he was there with them. I
wasn’t welcome even in theory. You read how badly it could go.

It nearly went badly with me too, when he and Steen arranged all this without explaining that
Steen was more important than the girls. I had always thought Rufus had boys in every port too,
but it turned out I was wrong. He’d gotten serious with Steen.

That night before Rufus left for SAC camp, he let us dream in the same bunk together. I followed
him back from a picnic in our dreams to the bed, to find myself being ‘lent out’ again. He and
Steen had me between them and were kissing over my head, even though my sparkles were
wrapped around Rufus like an electric boa. But since he’d started first, Rufus finished first,
leaving me to be thoroughly and not unskillfully reamed by Steen.

Seeing Rufus lie there and watch me taken was such a blatant reminder that it wasn’t him in me
that I didn’t reach full enjoyment and felt rather crumpled afterward.

But somehow, this turned them on! They looked at me, mimicking partial deflation and rolling
my big eyes up at them with my tube of a moue and nearly no chin, and they decided to do the
whole business again! I did my puppy dog eyes at Rufus, and he indicated that he’d like it very
much if I rose for this occasion, by pretending to blow me up with kisses. I plumped up, but still
pouted, and waved my hand with the rubber ring on it under his nose. He just grinned and wiped
his nose as if I’d tickled it.

What bothered me most was that this time, as I was sandwiched, Rufus kept wiping the tingle of
my hands away from his body and back onto myself, even as we screwed! What was he trying to
say, that I should get used to playing with my own hair, stroking my own hip? Was it was
because he was leaving in the morning? Meanwhile Steen was having me, kneading my breasts
as if he wanted to pop them, and when I tilted my head back to rubberneck I could see his cuff of
white teeth grinning out of his goatee in that fierce and splendid way.

Eventually the two of them got the fat lady to sing. Even as I squealed and retreated into
confused pleasure, I could sense they were kissing again. I found it kind of hot. Steen was
imagining I was Rufus, and Rufus was imagining I was Steen, and I was imagining I was Steen
too! What in the world!

When he was finally sated Rufus put his head onto those breasts, which Steen had been aiming in
all directions but were mine, and I had permission to touch him again. Yes! His breasts too! With
relief we drifted off together.

The next thing I noticed was a whiff of fresh breeze where he was imagining me in the pocket of
his biking jacket. He was on his way, and I was pledged to stay on the bus. It briefly puzzled me
that when I felt myself in that pocket, Steen was still snuggled against my back.

The next thing I knew I was being propelled to and from the bus toilet by the butt, as if I were
strapped across Steen’s chest like a bear pelt or something. This was not Rufy’s usual manner
with me at all. It made the world seem all cockeyed and wrong. Whatsisname Steen,
NOTMyMan Steen, had me on his lap to take a crap!

 That was simply too much too soon, MisterHerren! How dare you do something I thought

 was private between Rufus and me?
I flew up to the little square of ceiling and glared at him.

He just blinked grayishly up from under his brows and scratched his armpits. “Hey, I thought
you liked it.” OOH!! I left. I went to the kitchen and glared at the ferrets through the mesh. They
put their wet noses on me but that’s all they could manage of course.

When he came out of the toilet and began to shuffle around the kitchen, I began my tirade of
outrage. I am not your plaything, Steen. Just because you can see me, and just because you and
Rufus have shared other girls, and you don’t mind using my back hole, it doesn’t mean I am
anything to you, or you to me.

Truly, it’s not like I require regular fucks like a dog needs walks! Like any being I require my
alone time to be myself, and I also require RUFUS DIXON THE MAN I MARRIED. You might
be a genius and a wizard and a polymath, but you are NOT Rufus. It did not occur to me that
exactly because he was not Rufus, Steen couldn’t hear what I was thinking at him so loudly. In
fact, I barely cared; I just wanted to yell.

Steen was still looking grey and foggy. The coffee maker was gurgling and he was looking at it
wistfully, while washing down a hunk of herring and some buttered brown bread with a beer.

When he stood up to get a mug and the Jaegermeister I flew at him. He broke a plate in the sink
when I snippily remarked, into his right ear, You know I don’t give a toss about Virgen Steel
either, except when their tenor is there.

He was grumbling about not being a morning person and slowly putting the shards into the bin
while I flew to his other ear to say, You are such a genius but you didn’t realize that.

He whirled on me, quivering. “Bloody helvede, Heidi! I swear to you—“and he pointed one
finger right at me, backing me off—“if you kom mellem mej og kaffekanden igen I am going to
ELECTROCUTE you!” His eyes were bright red. He was snarling exactly like the red devil
mannequin they use in the stage show. I shrank.

He noticed I’d shrunk. A bit of sorrow tinged his glaring eyes, turning them hazel again. His
finger fell. “Before I could stop!” he moaned softly, with his lips twisting and quivering under
his mustache. His chest was heaving and his nostrils were wide. Silently he turned back to the
sink.

I shrank more.

I shrank down to under a meter high. Steen could have put his two hands over and under me and
balled me up and thrown me in the bin too. I wouldn’t have minded, because I was sorry.
“Sorry,” I squeaked, and went away—to the big boring sucky in-between.

Eventually I thought that since I was between anyway I may as well check in on Rufus and peek
at him at least. It turns out it was still night in that time zone. Rufus was in the tent and alone. He
sleepily smiled in welcome. No blades were where he slept.

I got right to the point after I’d made him know how glad I was to be there. It’s not right, Rufus.
I’m your wife, not his. And I’m not your pet that needs to be screwed or I’ll make a mess in the
corner. I saw his mouth twitch but he carefully didn’t smirk at that. Well, I may like a regular
fucking, but I can do without until you are home.

I don’t enjoy being untrue to you, Rufy. I’m your wife. I have a choice. I am a person. I’m Heidi
Wasabi and I even have my own web page. I saw him resolving to go look at it—about time he
did!

You shouldn’t make Steen take care of me like a pot plant. It’s not fair to either of us. Granted

he’s the only one who really sees me as well as you, but WHY? What makes you think Steen
ought to be fucking your wife?

Rufy swallowed. He evidently hadn’t thought it would seem like that to me. So he got to the
point too. “I, ah, I married him too, Heidi, sort of. A long time ago. I didn’t think of it like that
until just now, but it is like that.

“Look here, Virgen Steel was—Steen and I were—we’re a package now. Things happened
between us, and our blood mixed, and we’re blood-bonded. There’s not really a way to get rid of
Steen. So I was glad he could see you.”

Well, I didn’t marry him! You high and mighty meatheads forgot that detail!

“Steen’s got a lot of affection for you. He’d like it if you were his shakti too.”

No, he had said he’d electrocute me… I could not really deal with this now. I know I’d infuriated
him in a way that showed he was very open to me and I deserved the reprimanding at the time.
But he hadn’t actually said it, that he wanted to be my love. He’d just ASSUMED. They both

had.

I faded into the dark weather over the SCA camp, and from there into my own dreaming space. I
didn’t come out until Rufus was back on the bus.

They had me in a corner, stuck between them, and I hadn’t said yes. It makes all the difference.

~