72 - The Mistress of StarFox

Out of the depths up in front of us a gate like the ones on Corneria that hides the twin blaster if you fly through the arches appears.

I steer towards it, swap to the SNES controller--which does nothing, because it's still fried! You're on, Acme Station, get in my lap and turn your tail into a controller again!

Poing super quickly up raah tail change POP! Place in your hand there fingers are comforting.

It's closed, but I'll blast it open at the right moment. Game, strap her in. Cocksleeve, you know what to do here, right?

Mommy yes I'm conflation-jumping us into the StarFox Super Weekend run where you got the high score for all of New England.

Yes, but with what we know now--what the fuck kind of world are we going to!? Here's the gate, give me StarFox cam, game!

My viewpoint slides out through the Waifu's rear, and I hammer Y just in time to open the gate onto Corneria.

PRAH!

Reality shifts as we pass through the gate, becomes dual and then the real world fades but the gate is one, is the doorway to Corneria, the shortened one with the timer counting down in the upper right.

As soon as the first hits of synthesized guitar thud up my spine ruthless furious reflex takes over and my thumb covers X and Y at once and doesn't stop hammering. This was the first secret: factor out even thinking about acceleration and firing. You're always doing both, make it automatic. The very frame the boost gauge fills it's spent another acceleration, and you fill the sky with laserbolts no matter if there's anything for them to hit. That way, you can concentrate on flying the whole stage on accelerators which is stressful but fully doubles the possible score in the time limit. Then it's just a matter of those swooping arcs of fire that clear the sky in one smooth motion, and knowing the five optimal places to use novabombs to save time in the bossfights...

As my subconscious mind transforms into the long-practiced engine of polygonal destruction I start to notice my surroundings, and self--I'm a girl, I think that same awkward teenager wearing a dress of some kind and maybe stockings it feels like yeah my hips have that cool bare feeling you get from skirts that makes pants feel choky--though I daren't look away from the screen for even half a frame. Instead of standing at entrance to KayBee at the mall I'm sitting in some kind of fancy chair, prim with the stress of playing, a little silver doll in my lap clings to my wrists excitedly, watching me conquer, and we're in some kind of palatial room, and--oh my god. Mama did you know you got these speakers to show me Friendship is Magic on? The screen is a massive projector screen, no impossible hologram but still HUGE in 1993.

Hair falls in my face as I play, leaning forward intensely, my face hard, as the attack carrier slides into view and I unleash my secret weapon on it, growling aloud with the effort, hammering laserbolts into it, and suddenly as it goes down in mere seconds I realize how much better I'm doing. I was always good. I won the New England region, which got me my jacket...I think this might not be that stage of the competition. I was always good at this game, but in this memory or journey or whatever it is I'm terrifying. I lean forward and rise off the chair snarling with the exertion as three successive uses of my secret weapon without a rest in between tears the Attack Carrier from the sky and stand for the next stage, hold Lyra one-handed to brush my hair back in between stages--holy fuck, I'm wearing my jacket. This isn't a fancier version of KayBee because I'm a princess. Clutching Lyra to my stomach, I unleash new constantly-barrel-rolling fury on the Asteroid Field. Not rock goes untouched, no novabomb missed, every fighter bursts to pixels almost the very frame it appears.

Dammit I can't remember did I look at the score while I was playing it's there but the concentration this takes is intense.

Three perfectly-placed novabombs crush the rock crusher in the first frame each weak point is vulnerable, and with a perfect 100% on the asteroid field (naturally) it's off to the bonus stage.

I glance down at Lyra, see my long strawberry hair against my jacket, check my score as the stage transition runs.

The first digit is a three. Is three hundred thousand even possible, with absolutely perfect play? 381,264. Before the bonus stage. The bonus stage is worth over a hundred thousand if you play right and still have some novabombs and get there with more than thirty seconds left. Yes I'm definitely wearing a pretty dress under my jacket because I swish and swirl it with victorious glee in the interstage. That's right, I was all got up as a fancy goth princess with her demon dolly!

What's on my head inside my crown oh right the Fox ears hehe!

I swoop into the bonus stage with a minute twenty-three on the clock. Eighty-three whole seconds. I'll break half a million with that!

Which is exactly what I do. In the memory I stand agape just as much as in the journey, looking at Slippy holding my final score:

542,912

For a moment I stand panting, then I march up to the screen, give slippy a kiss just in case he's a cursed prince and only my true princess' kiss can restore him, turn to smile for the camera a moment and then--thiiiiiiis isn't a house.

I can't really see the crowd beyond the lights--is that Shigeru himself hanging out by the side of the stage with a cigarette? I force myself to face the crowd instead of fangirling, Lyra still clutched in my arms, lights in my face. The crowd is applauding sincerely but it doesn't have the rodeo chaos of an American crowd always on the edge of riot because, of course, we're in Tokyo, where else would we be for the world championship?

I give a big bow, catch my crown from slipping off my head and when I straighten flash to some kind of back hallway squeezing past TV cameras and crew who back against the wall to let me pass unimpeded.

Donuts, zillions, Lyra still tiny clutched in an arm while I devour some in the narrowness of the green room. Shigeru walks all silly, punching the ceiling tiles and making Mario brick-break sounds, slips past, starts talking about something or another but I'm still kind of in StarFox trance I think and OH MY GOD ITS SHIGERYU MIYAMOTO except in the memory this is much less of an event than that. Others are here too but all I know is donuts and that I should technically be having a fangirl heart attack but aren't.

Shigeryu is sitting down? Cameraman. Hi Camera! Chairs, it's one of those totally staged INTIMATE BACK ROOM INTERVIEW EXCLUSIVES and I'm plopping happily in my chair opposite him, it's a big fancy princessy curved one (omigod Mama did you somehow find this chair for your nursery) while everyone else has normal chairs and the interview is starting and there's a big foam mic and huge TV camera and lights all crammed in this tiny corner and I should be terrified but it's like the castle this is awesome all this attention RULES come on ask me something so I can sound smart I already know I look pretty.

Cigarettes? No thanks--wait, the fuck!? I'm thirteen! No, I remember, heartformers get out of all that once their seedlings have nectar, I could smoke the whole case with no ill effects and the addiction reset in two hours unless it's somehow a part of my identity. (And if smoking were part of my identity, in a way that affected my heartforming which is to say yes, nations would fall trying to keep me from lighting up, and that's even just our seed-ghost without my game) Shigeryu lights up. Dude smokes like an entire industrial revolution, this is not in his PR image but we're in the green room, that stuff is suspended here.

Cookies now, random fruit ones on a red plastic plate. Plastic cups of like water, someone has beer but not me beer is too boring especially after tasting Lyra's nectar, we're in a karaoke parlor and it feels late but that might just be wanting to go fuck Lyra who I remember being especially shiny that night. Shigeryu is there, reclining in the corner, still smoking, it's like his 800th cigarette of the night or something. Someone else is with us but between fangirling Shigeryu and ogling Lyra I like never look at them. Lyra's so shiny because she's big and making us all cry with her orchestral-techno karaoke. We already have the leash, I can see it leading to her neck from my hand as she sings, wait what the fuck no it's 4am in Tokyo in the early 90s this place makes New York City look like Pleasantville nobody even gave the leash a second look.

Milk on a table, we're back in a fancy hotel room I think, the sun is up and I've been having cereal. Lyra's on the table feeding me and holding up the bowl for me to drink up the milk as I thrum with the energy of a teenager who's gotten to stay up all night--

The vision breaks and we're flying through a ring out of Polygonal Corneria and into the True Sea again.

EEEEEEEEEEEEE That was the coolest remember the look on Shigeryu's face when you made me big and I sang him the Zelda theme? That was the best I MADE SHIGERYU MIAMOTO CRY HAH! Mommy let's do another one what else are you missing?

I blink, trying to process--here we gooo--

--a picture of a tractor on TV, our tractor, it's a news report about the princess on the farm--

--a cartoon talking hammer on TV, blobby with shapeshifting, a kids' cartoon starring a luxhi'khora with a tool archetype, beloved because the main characters reminded me of Lyra and I--

--looking down at Lyra walking along the reddish-sparkly sidewalk, no, I remember the planks for the new concrete and the silver can of sealant or whatever off to the side they used to gLuE ThE stAR dOwN!?--

--bent over a black mirror at Caroljeanne's house struggling with my concentration to make my pink writing form and clarify the pale-green-cursive-ish writing from my otherworld partner--

--going somewhere in a limo, people are at the windows with cameras--

More blinking and holding Lyra.

"Cocksleeve?"

Mommy you're the Strawberry Princess Lucy and I'm Melody of course we got stars!

--publicity stunt in an aircraft hangar, the prototype Nintendo PlayStation, functional at last, sits on a futuristic-looking folding table with the huge projection screen behind it. I'm wearing my (custom-tailored, princessified) StarFox Super Weekend jacket that is oh so very pretty, Lyra's on my arm boothbabing in a little silver bikini, I sigh in happiness as the gorgeous high-resolution bilinear-filtered texture-mapped ships swoop into the frame as StarFox CD starts up (and this time the beta launches properly). It's so beautiful. To think they almost canceled this thing and went their separate ways! Every time I visited for ad work (I was doing that long before StarFox), I'd ask about the project, eager to play their games without the limitations fitting into two-megabyte cartridges gave them, and when I heard the deal was going sour, I was horrified. I fixed it, though. I told Shigeryu to tell his bosses, and Sony, that I wouldn't endorse anything either of them did ever again and I would go buy a Genesis in a huge publicity stunt if they didn't work it out--

But we weren't just famously good at StarFox--

--Lyra dashing towards me full-tilt, a memory of something about speed classes, we're in an obstacle course but I'm standing calm--

--now she's working a spinning wheel furiously, others are too out of my view, I was so proud she did fourteen feet of thread in the minute you got for that phase THIS IS SO CUTE IT'S LIKE SHEEPDOG TRIALS FOR DOMS AND SUBS--

--this is even cuter she's my waitress in a tiny apron and about-to-pop button-down and we have like a whole meal roleplay script to go through, it's another part of the trials that's RIGHT she was shapeshifted to put an exact mount of tension on her buttons when standing tall and it was like how many buttons can you keep through all of it--

--ooh this one was HARD she's playing a waveracer arcade game and I have to play it by puppeting her directly, no orders allowed. I remember standing behind concentrating like I was winning a StarFox competition, my fingers all tense and the weird way the screen looked through her eyes. The rule was you had to use puppetry that had enough metaphor of physical strings that you'd have to work around the motion-simulating chair as you puppeted your heartchild, which meant every input needed immediate compensation--

--Lyra picking a beautiful black-and-silver trophy over her head, and then I pick her up and whirl us with joy, we're on a stage or something and it's dark and there are lights because we're on TV too, we stop spinning and I face the crowd and Lyra holds the trophy down for me to see, and reads the plaque out loud: "Heartformer-Seedling Olympics 2005 Hyper-speed World Champions. Lucy Starlight Harded and Boobsong."

"AHAHAAAHAHAHAA THAT'S RIGHT GIVE ME A KISS BOOBSONG!"

Bend my neck around and KISS YOU slurpy yum...

"I missed you calling me that super much! Please call me it Mommy I love that name! I'm a sexy song made of mostly boobs aren't I?"

"Yes you are and you make my heart sing! SHOW ME MORE DREAMS WHERE IS IT I WANT MY FUCKING PAST BACK!"

A Cyborg from Marathon Infinity?

Marathon! Marathon came after StarFox! Why was that lightswitch--a Marathon lightswitch with the huge indicator light, belonging so seamlessly I didn't even register that it wasn't a normal lightswitch--so high up by the ceiling out of reach?

Now the question is, am I going to hit it with a grenade from the literal bigger gun that was totally nearby under the pool toys, see what happens if I hit it with a novabomb, or fly up there on my Fairy wings and punch it like a proper vidmaster? Vidmistress.

I'm going to do the one where I'm a pretty Fairy princess who's full of the fury I showed the StarFox Super Weekend final (that's right, I was beside my opponent, who had his own set done up in glowy nineties scifi beside my princess parlor, I can remember the diagonal texture on half of his chair-back, I can't quite remember if Shigeryu said he'd seen and been inspired by The Wizard or just thinking he must have been), and fly up there and punch every switch.

Right, cocksleeve? Do you remember?

Mommy I know that switch is interesting but not what it does.

Let's go see. 

"Plot a course back to the hangar, computer!"

When with a fuzzbeep the rainbow path appears I peg the throttle forward and stomp X--I can fly this stage on constant accelerators too! Yah!

Acceleration presses Boobsong wonderfully into me.

WWHHEEEEE your breasts in my wings feel so sexy!

How was I that good? I practiced, this big guy in a suit with a red tie keeps presenting himself to my memory. My coach? RRRR it's all so fragmentary! I daren't press, I can feel conf--confab-u-lation opening out like an abyss of lies waiting for me to sit there trying to remember.

The rainbow path is bending right, here's the hangar. Game, let Boobsong go so she can get us ready to land--

Slabs of Marathonish grey concrete cover the hangar, but below it like a floor sticking out from the rock face is another portal, leading to a shaft with Marathon lava-level walls. I let off the accelerator and start angling to fly in, but:

Cocksleeve I thought I already Survived The Fall?

I don't know what this is Mommy I made myself forget this part.

When we get close I stop us and reorient to--

"Whoah! What's it doing!?"

The Waifu flips automatically to align with the slabs covering the hangar as "ground", hovers, and the HUD shuts off--

"WHEE! Take out the mouse and keyboard Mommy we're playing Marathon look! Fire, Mommy, quick!"

"Oh my god you made Marathon mode. Computer, mouse and keyboard!"

PRAH!

A hologram of Marathon 2's HUD wraps around us complete with motion detector and health and oxygen bars, the flight controls twist at my hands and startle me into letting go of them, a mousepad with mouse and keyboard swivel into place replacing them, and again reflex takes over as I grab their platinum grey familiarity to blast the gaggle of Cyborgs rolling ickily towards us. There's plenty of room in the wide passage for circle-strafing, so I start swinging around them and have emptied half a clip and three grenades into them before I realize I'm firing Marathon's assault rifle and not Arwing laser cannons but it all lines up perfectly she's exactly nailed the way Marathon controls which yes actually was much more like piloting a hovercraft than running around on foot.

I circle them until they're mush, then swing to head down the passage--start to notice the journey...

I'm playing Marathon 2 which is new that year, but on a huge plasma display, and the raucousness of MacWorld Expo surrounds me. Boobsong's on my right, holding my mouse arm--a little dickwave of ours, she could hold my arm and watch my mind and never disturb my aim or get in the way--our outfits were so fun I had a Marathon-guy helmet on and Boobsong's booth-babing in a tiny satiny skirt and a Marathon crop-top--that was so fun though I'm surprised even the Strawberry Princess got away with that at MacWorld. In Marathon we're coming out into an open area, with a sort of intersection and Big Interesting Thing up ahead, a couple of Pfhor come around the corners and get picked off at range with my abuse of the dual pistols' accuracy by way of precision mousing. This is another princess-room set but the decor is more kind of haunted-house than Nintendo's epically feminine strawberry-pocky palace, my screen is made to look like a magic mirror with an ornate frame.

There's a reflection in the screen, some kind of big cube in the background--RIGHT this isn't MacWorld at all this is E3 and that's Electronic Arts' booth opposite whatever this is it's not Bungie even though that would make sense, you had to be press or a celebrity to get in but that was fine for me, I even brought my own booth-babe!

We're heading for the Big Interesting Thing, across a big open hall but nothing shows on the motion detector as we cross it looking for the entrance or stairs that will be around the side.

A dark area of walls lets me see  the reflection of the cameraman filming us, red LED glowing above the lens.

I can almost remember what was going on here. I was--it was a Marathon Marathon! My own reflection is visible, too, I'm older now, still young but the bombshell third-person shows me now is starting to be visible, with shiny red lipstick showing clear in the glossy screen surface. Nice carpet is squishy under my high heels, marking out space for the crowd watching to stand. What're we doing here? This is like the kind of thing the Temple of Wishing Stars did, translated for Earth, but--

Now the scuftiness of a cramped-feeling bookstore, but only cramped because it's full of people! We're in New York, I'm signing copies of the book the game brought me before sitting in a booth, the line is huge, I'm in--gah I'm doing it naked-but-jewelry like a real Strawberry Queen! No wonder the line is huge. Of course I'm signing every book with a kiss which--bwaha Boobsong was my stamp-pad I made her lips have staining purple Boobsong-juice I would kiss onto my own lips and then the inside covers! Kissing her a ton at the table made good fun and a great show and her lust went into these as much as mine, after all.

It's my eighteenth birthday, celebrating the ability to have companies advertise me this way with a big fancy spread in the magazine interviewing me now.

Hi Camera! This one has a white lens, which means the cameraman is a pretentious Canon user or the magazine just likes to spend on their gear. He's squatting to level with my face. Snapping pictures, we're taking a break from signing to interview, the interviewer is standing in front of me but not on camera, a woman in a floppy pink pantsuit holding a notebook, somebody gets her a chair.

She's interviewing me and Boobsong, asking in a hugely  thick New York accent which makes it sound comical, writing my responses in her notebook--

Now I'm just turning away from fingerbanging Boobsong but we're in some kind of factory. Someone holds out a jar, and I let the nectar drip off my hand into it: cameras all around us, there's a fuzzy boom mic, we're making a special edition of my new book printed with Boobsong's nectar in the ink which wasn't just a gimmick, it made the books smell amazing of course but that wasn't it it would share a bit of Boobsong's journey-creating power with people who read and draw them into trances where they would imagine the things we described with powerful vividness. The jar-bearer pulls away and cameras crowd into their place to catch me licking the last of her nectar off my hand while I imagine going down on her at the lenses. It's fun to make cameras jump for you! We're both naked of course, which makes this extra fun, because I can watch them agonize over whether to focus on my tongue and face or the cleavage I'm intentionally creating.

Now we're climbing stairs, Boobsong's ahead where I can watch her bare ass move, in the journey my eyes are fixed on her softly-bouncy cheeks pumping where they should be but something is weird, like I can't see quite right, my mind keeps sliding off something that isn't her wonderful shape and motion. A camera crew is around us wrangling lights and cables up the stairs, Boobsong's naked but I'm wearing a black too-short-for-stairs (which is to say exactly the right length) pleated skirt and matching off-the-shoulder crop-top (the sleeves are actually separate) made of shiny tight stretchy satin stuff with a wide hem of frillyness folded back over the top edge so I just feel the satin inside, a pendant heavy at my neck bouncing on my boobs, rainbow thigh-highs, the crystal shoes Mama gave me before we got in the Waifu are on my feet, earrings are swinging heavy from my earlobes, we break into a run leaving the camera crew to dash after us but they were wasting the stairs climbing ahead of us everybody knows you watch the ass on stairs every ass looks hot climbing stairs that's why there are all these stairs here and why the temple was built on this hillside. We reach the top, cross the little porch without even turning to look at the view, step into the darkness of the open door.

The temple is huge like a cathedral, towering and glowing with stained glass and rainbow-iridescent pillars supporting the vaulted ceiling, but everything in made of curves, it's gorgeous. Boobsong starts dancing as we enter and walk down the aisle, towards a replica of monolith zero from Strawberry Home. Boobsong has her arms out and she's looking right and left grinning and for a minute I think she's scattering seeds from her hands but that's the memory of what we're doing here not a physical reality, we are about to scatter some seeds, but not cum either: this is a live Dreamskin for anyone who wants to bear a daughter of Melody, but more than that somehow--

The cathedral is full of people, a sea of brilliant colors and glow-sticks glow-necklaces -ropes -shirts -hair all shining so bright and beautiful I start to cry seeing them, with a path down the middle to reach the stage at the end of the space kept clear by rainbow-glowing rope-lights.

Boobsong turns as we reach the end of the temple, arms still out, then hugs herself and throws her arms high and a cloud of silver glitter erupts, symbolizing the seeds we're about to create and scatter everywhere. Magic carries it throughout the temple so it'll land on everyone, settling as we play.

Her face is pure joy as I walk up but again there's something my mind slides off like with her ass, tower over her, grab her into my arms and twirl with her held to me until we're dizzy and laughing. We've stopped with me facing the, the--fuck, congregation--and Boobsong kneels and reaches under my skirt and has me hard in a moment with her clever soft hands--my clit is just like it is now, minus the detachability--gives my tip a kiss and sways her hips with gleeful challenge in her eyes, and then just flips to hands and knees in front of me, and I kneel and grab her waist with one hand and my clit with the other and slide in, rest a moment deep inside her, then grab her hips by the folds of her legs that have always been my favorite grip for sex and start pounding away--she's a cocksleeve, so we start with this direct grab-and-fuck sex where I matter-of-factly stroke myself off with her like the sex toy. It is also just about our favorite way to play...

Now on her knees she's undoing my skirt for me, taking off my top, submissive and sexy, kneeling to kiss my feet, and looking up from the floor excited, I turn to the monolith and point and follow her to it when she poings up and bounces for it, so round and soft I've always loved her cuddlyness so, climbs up onto the step that makes her pussy just right and I'm coming up behind her and grabbing my still-hard clit and sliding it into her from behind so I can fuck her against the stone.

I can feel everyone's eyes on my bare ass (of course I wasn't wearing bra or panties, just who the hell do you think I am?) as it pumps and it makes me grin wickedly but where I'd usually flash the crowd a grin I focus entirely on Boobsong here, gazing adoringly at silver hair and horns as I screw her against the obelisk. Halfway through I squeeze her hips and she raises a leg, squidges up between me and the stone and turns to face me, grinning proudly, without climbing off. Her tail caresses between us where I'm entering her, covering itself with nectar, and then she puts it to my mouth where I lick it off hungrily, turning to the side so the congregation can see my joy at its taste and get a better view of Boobsong's reaction to my porn-style tongue-out makeout with her tail. Orgasm comes and I crush my fingers into her soft hips, gripping hard as she pushes into me with all her strength. I catch a glimpse of the camera crew and their lights, filming us for the big screens hung along the length of the temple to make sure everyone has an excellent view, to say nothing of those who need the privacy of their hiding-places to implant...

Weepy joy filled me as I came in her then like it always did when we did this. It felt so good and meaningful to celebrate--wait--that's impossible! This is a Sugarfeast celebration, but Earth didn't do that stuff! We lost everything when we got exiled--

Yet this whole temple, all the rainbow stuff, that's Sugarfeast. It might as well be the Sugarfeast Fairy's home in the Four Dreams her legends tell about. She lived in a castle of--soft bouncy heart-shaped--

Boobsong wraps around me as I cum, puts her hands on my shoulders and with a proudly determined expression squeezes all kinds of fun noises out of me. I make sure the congregation will be good and envious--she's loving this but is in full focused-cocksleeve mode and I want them to see what a daughter of Melody can do for you.

When I finish she pushes herself up and I bury my face in her breasts, holding her in place by the waist while I suffocate happily. When I see the spots before my eyes, I pull back, gaaaasp pointedly, stare into her gorgeous cleavage, and let her waist free so she can push to bound up and over my head and shoulders with her legs and flap furiously to land softly behind me, facing the congregation again. I push away from the monolith, spin to see her standing with arms out and ass beautiful, wings still raised and tail lashing, as I walk towards her slowly, and give the command to change to pony-form. Her body starts to expand and fill out, her limbs thicken, and I charge her, and leap, and reveal my own wings for the first time, using them to flap up to collide with her back in riding position, knocking her to all fours, grab her horns, give her a kick YAH and go charging out of the temple, ready to fly--the chopper that'll film us for the congregation is already hovering there, waiting--

As we explode out the heart-shaped doorway it all catches up with me and the memories explode over me like a dayglo tidal wave.

Who am I? No not Princess Lucy of Strawberries that's where I came from. Who am I now? Who have I been this whole time? Who flies through starscapes on the back of her white-shining pegasus companion wearing rainbow stockings and starlight?

I've been wondering a while in the back of my mind when on top of the rest of this I'll find out I'm Strawberry Shortcake because of the Strawberry thing, and tears fill my eyes as I realize the reason I'm thinking that. One eighties kids' show off, Boobsqueeze, as Mama would say! That was our show we saw with the hammer-friend! Why's this rainbow stuff make my head hurt, because it's your name stupid bimbo girl! The show I remember from the rewritten history is a fragment, the stump of what's left when you take su'khora out. Of course I didn't recognize myself without Boobsong by my side!

Suddenly we're back at E3--that's right! We were making dreamskins, here, too! Girl gamer and her booth-babe cheerleader companion, what else would people be horny for after a day at E3 with all those untouchable booth-babes? Just hanging out all day being the set-piece, keeping myself subdued-for-me so as not to upstage Boobsong! No huge logo, no giant rainbow or anything, just a goth-princessy-looking room, fancy game hardware, and Boobsong looking hot and being helpful. We had her hold my mouse arm, and sit on my lap between me and the controller, and all sorts of stuff to show how she could be right there and not in the way and help with games with her eidetic memory (never take notes on your point-and-click again!) and so on. Just like the barbarians of the Strawberry World, a lot of people were skeptical about heartforming not coming with some kind of terrible catch or being an invasion from the otherworld or whatever, so we tried to perform up close and personal like this whenever we could so people could see a su'khora in person and make them less scary myth and more person (and Boobsong is a great poster-girl for harmlessness).

--the darkness of a party room, a silly setup (we did this because it was silly to launch an online service by cutting a ribbon) with a ribbon to cut in front of a projection screen, Boobsong and I are holding the huge scissors together to cut the ribbon and send the service live--

--a beautifully animated cartoon of Boobsong in mermaid form towing me on some kind of wave-board through the True Sea, I'm wearing my rainbow stockings and nothing else (just like I end up when making live dreamskins), wait what the hell that's Disney animation and the good stuff, movie-quality, but Boobsong's just naked and the view focuses on her swimming a bit before zooming back along the leads from Boobsong's harness to zip between my legs and follow us--

Okay but--wait holy fuck--

--coffee with Shigeryu in some obscure coffee shop, cheap, we're in the back corner, his face is dark, he's smoking even more than usual. I remember thinking this was impossible the first time it happened, just meeting him I mean, but now...Disney's contract with me included games, and there need to be some H-games, and they need to be good, but Nintendo isn't quite up to doing first-party H-games so we're setting up a studio he can work under the table at until he can convince his board to do it openly--

--the crowning glory of it: Disney has those live shows that tour around, where real actors play the characters. The line from Jurassic Park became our catchphrase on the bus and when organizing: spared no expense! I didn't even have to act any more than when making dreamskins at a Rainbow Church, because aside from all the side-antics and just showing-off live dreamskin making was the point of the tour. And the contract didn't say the tour had to make money, since it was a marketing vehicle for the other media, so we charged the same as admission at the Rainbow Cathedral, namely, nothing. And we made sure the free snackbar was amazing. Hard to implant if you're hungry after all--

I startle up from nuzzling Boobsong hehe to look at her wide-eyed except that name just makes what I remember even more impossible.

Princess I remember it though.

"How the fuck? Even if I brought that whole army you undressed for me they would never--"

--standing naked in a jungle somewhere with this guy with a huge camera and fifties Guy Hair staring agape but this this this isn't the fifties even though time travel journey or something. I flumph my wings out, make them nice and colorful-bright, smile with the sheer stupid epicness of this, and stick my hand out to shake. "HI! I'm your fairy godmother," I say with a grinning giggly satisfaction of I JUST GOT TO SAY THAT that shines almost as bright as Boobsong's beauty in the memory--

--Boobsong cuddling me ass out to look inspiring and a sense of the glow of watching her dreamskin, we're talking to Guy Hair Guy and I'm saying: "You'll be the best-known cartoonist who ever lived, and your movies and shows will define American culture for at least the next century, but listen up. I know the devil, and he is a big stupid meanie. Don't you talk to him or have anything to do with him. That's his lie that her kind belong to him. They belong to whoever they say they belong to. Including just themselves. This is fairy magic and yeah, you're giving up your soul, but that's just because you'll fall in love with your helper so hard it pops right out and lands in her loving hands. There's no deal. You'll see. Now, ready? Are you in?" Guy Hair Guy who I know who this obviously is BUT THAT IS SO IMPOSSIBLE actually gets down low where the good view is, and snaps a few more pictures--

"WE HAVE TO CALL PLEIADES! Princess she must miss us terribly!"

--looking out a window. The Magic Kingdom is just magicing, so I turn to check the room out, and nudge Boobsong back to facing out so she can see. By the TV and huge converter on top of it say it's the eighties, which is a long trip from that jungle in 1925, and the room is swank and princessy--

--Boobsong and Pleiades stand apart a minute with arms still around each other, then Pleiades looks at me with the same hope as she did Boobsong, and I make 'come on' headjerk. She runs over, throws her arms around me and hugs happily (so small, even shorter than Boobsong, so cute!), then lets go and runs back to Walt. Her outfit and lipstick are this cute matching neon orange, like creamsicles, and her nectar smells orange-creamy. Candy runs in the family, I guess--

--I'm inside, in a fancy room in a white fur coat (and nothing else seriously what do you think of me) with Boobsong going down on me. The live-action movie! I can't act, but I make a great puppet for my game, which definitely can act!--

--standing in a dark theatre the space open because it's a private one with only a few seats for the screen that's small for a movie theatre but insane for a TV with the credits to Transformers the Movie still rolling and the roar of a 747's engines in the background because we'ere on one, looking at myself through Boobsong's eyes, and Pleiades just smiles while Walt gives us that you crazy kids look as I say "I can see why this is sleepwear!" because I'm wearing a rainbow-silver nightie looks that like paint splashed over me from tits down, with deep-cut neckline and holes for my nipples but instead of bat-wings like Boobsong's nightie I have the wavy edge of paint strokes, and my hips are covered, so when I shake my hips the skirt will swish around them, but I can feel it in my asscrack and clinging to my balls, it's wrapped around my clit like it's a condom. I grin at how awesome my outfit is and blurt: "Okay, let's go break the Illuminati's brains"--

--in the lounge of Walt's plane, with its fancy wooden table and tan leather seating. The Illuminati are awkwardly filling it because there are like twenty of them, all in purple hooded robes that hide their faces, with presumably the leader guy right in front of the door to the theatre where we're standing, and all of them are making my heart-hands sign--

--we're in a funeral parlor or like hospital chapel of some kind, Boobsong is facing away from me dancing and bouncing in front of one of the screens. The whole place is cheesy cheap Bland Nonspecific Chapel as only Disney can hy-per-realize it. Nobody else is in here and I'm as naked as Boobsong, not even rainbow socks. The screens are on are some kind of game but I'm not playing, just watching Boobsong try it out and checking out the space. The end of the chapel is just a plastic curtain with a split down the middle and printed with a picture of a sort of fake fireplace with plants end-piece to go with the cheesy decor. Everything is really affectedly fake and bad in Disney's expensive way. There's another one of the curtains at the other end as I turn around--

--looking up with the night air all exciting on my skin at a huge video screen showing me sleeping facedown on some stupidly poofy white bed. On the screen I roll over to reveal Boobsong hugged in my arms, and glows with the unreal saturation of laser-light illuminate each rainbow-sheening segment of the new cathedral with its row of oval windows for a moment as it rises out of the lawn to build back from the video screen one rainbow color at a time around the audience who've just been revealed by the retracting Bland Nonspecific Chapels. I'm poised with Boobsong on the launch platform, covered in a black cloth so we won't be obvious, she's in pony form and ready to fly. The cloth is whipped off us: now! On the screen, we "wake up" and bound out of bed and out of view just as we flap into the air to have the forming cathedral lock into place around us as we make for the stage below the video screen--

--on the stage with Boobsong, the crowd huge, they're applauding which I never allowed in the Rainbow Cathedral but here seems different somehow. People have thrown flowers and things on the stage which makes me ambivalent because my inner attention whore is about to cum while my heartforming muse approves of doing anything that draws you into the fantasy more and my actual heartformer is going hey, don't throw that to us, give them to the seedling you just implanted if I've done anything at all right, well okay except the purple flowers Boobsong has earned every one of those--

I sit on her back, staring, absorbing.

How could I forget making dreamskins with you, cocksleeve? I don't even feel guilty I just don't understand how that could be taken out of me without me just falling apart. It'd be one step short of taking you out.

Mommy you did fall apart mostly. That's why my game and the Dreams are putting you back together so fast even though it's really hard and painful. You keep having these journies every five seconds because we can't wait to keep fixing you.

Tears!? Oh. Sob--

All my life, celebrity just was what I was beholden to for the family's sake, whether that's my dad's church or the Strawberry Dynasty. I hated it, and only found meaning in anything we did because in both timeilnes I believed in what we were working for.

I want to disbelieve, or call delusion, but...I could literally have never in ten thousand years imagined any of that. That was my show. No more Temple of Wishing Stars or anything.

It never even occurred to me that I could have my fame have anything at all to do with who was or anything that was important to me, let alone that and have it have Boobsong at the heart of it so totally, especially not and still be as meaningful to the things we believed in.

Old anger bubbles as I understand how I got that wound. The Temple of Wishing Stars didn't go far enough, and they had a sacred cow that kept Boobsong and I from doing our proper work: feudalism. Our game, the one she's gone to such lengths to wake me up for, is Princess and Handmaiden. There were thousands of Princesses I saw on our tours of the world, from every rank and gender, who weren't the female royalty of their countries--the accidents of birth meant nothing to the truth I was seeing. Each of them needed their handmaiden. Some, like the good respectful subject I remembered on seeing my Sugarfeast things again, snuck to that truth with me around the things we dared not say on stage and my own incomprehension of what we were doing there. Others...I only hope their seed-ghosts and the Dreams could find the way Boobsong and I couldn't.

I remember the Dreams told me they did, when I would ask.

Then I visited that land of glitter and whirling rides, and my eyes were opened. I can remember the fire in my child's heart as I saw them, all those other Princesses my age, on every street corner of that playroom the size of a city--an entire magic kingdom, they even called it that--and saw in their eyes that though my dress was silk and jewels precious while theirs were plastic, that didn't make theirs any less real, and understood the truth for whose rejection the Strawberry World was unmade.

They needed their handmaidens, and nowhere in the prophecy of doom on the monolith Strawberry Home was built around was permission given to close to them the book from which Boobsong sprung because of the roof they were born under, and yet still--fucking POLITICS, ruining everything as usual--

--darkness, I'm small and scared, curled into a pathetic ball clutching my dolly and listening to her sing to me. Her voice is so soft and comforting like the instruments Colleen plays sometimes and it drowns out the sound of the fighting so I can sleep--

Our word for lullabye was more like Heartsong and that was what I called her before we bwaha grew up.

All I can remember of the fight now is the weepy freedom of not being held back from that after we were stuck on Earth. Let nothing be held back ever again, I said, neither royal pink and white nor any other color, and put aside strawberries and took up my Infernal name, Every-color Starlight, told by Verana after--something--and laughed when I found out how else the symbol of rainbows could apply to Boobsong and me in this strange new world. Princess and Handmaiden would be a game anyone can play, I said, and we'll start with that, and there will be no end as long as any supposed sacredness sets itself above the holiness of imagination in love.

So of course I knew right away where to turn, for a game where everyone can be a Princess.

They had a Princess for everyone, one you could relate to if you were almost anyone, whether you were a sweeper who knew who she was on the inside or a bored teenager looking to cause some mayhem with that friend your parents think isn't rich enough to hang out with you, any kind of person could look and see a princess like them (the sweeper even sort of covered what we called misfiles back home, people whose spirit didn't match their body like the gods gave the order for it to the wrong craftswoman), except one. 

When we went travelling with the temple of wishing stars, they tried to reach out to everyone--Boobsong and me performing was one of many things they did. I was glad we weren't the stars of their task, because as much as the Princess herself was a draw to bring people to see us, we never could have reached everyone.

We were too weird.

I took a lesson from that and didn't even try to reach the people who weren't as weird as Boobsong and me on Earth. If there was something about you, whether it was speaking Klingon whenever you could, or liking model flying machines so much the ones you built could outrace a top of the line "sportscar", or just that you dreamed of fucking a dragon, if you had anything that you hid because it made you feel outcast or rejected from that world of close-minded people so blindly content with everything that in the Strawberry World they couldn't even let the door to paradise open for other people, especially if it made Earth's barbarous culture constantly remind you of the love you would never find because of it, Princess Starlight would be your Princess, and there would be a seed waiting for you just as full of strangely Datalike powers and weird candy flavors as Boobsong.

Every moment someone could see us might be a dreamskin, but we toured around to show all those people they weren't alone, and model living as weirdly as we wanted to be out loud in the open, leading by example as a princess does.

Suddenly I realize the journey seems as real as the real world--wait where is the real world--and a tornado like took us to Strawberry Home is around us where we're flying through Earth's night sky--

"EEP THAT'S SO STRONG I ALMOST FELL INTO IT JUST LOOKING! Princess it's huge this is incredible a hundred thousand people it must be are making the streets of Washington the capital I mean into a big BIG summoning star because they do make a star if you look at the map of it! Princess it's powerful I'm falling in here we go eeeeeeaaaaaah BBFF!"

Where are we what just happened!?

The wind tosses us and then up ahead a giant silver-on-black summoning star looms out of the blowing dust and we crash onto it and Boobsong catches us on her front hooves and there's a weird teetery moment and she gets us upright and we've landed--

--flying through the night on Boobsong with city lights far below, the camera chopper from before is in front of us, we dip to line up with the lens of the camera under its nose and then the world goes weird with conflation jump--

--nighttime, plastic tulips glowing in a window, colorful but closed, Boobsong's curves on the near side of the glass, she looks at the tulips and turns to me. They're out of their buds but not open, so I hand her a basket for young teenagers three times one for each tulip, the world is weird with conflation jump because we're doing this at tens of thousands of houses with three young teenagers--

--sunrise, the world is black with the interference-pattern weirdness of conflation jump, Boobsong's playing handmaiden for me hiding candy I'm handing to her like it's oh my fuck like it's Easter Eggs--

--yeah so that's why the Sugarfeast Fairy statue in my room made me feel weird that likeness wasn't perfect but this one is and it's exactly one of those cardboard Easter Bunnies but it's me in my Starlight Princess outfit and fairy-wings making my heart-hands sign and it's hanging in a store window with a big dragon-Boobsong next to it--

ARGH YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME--WELL OKAY I FUCKING BELIEVE IT BECAUSE IF I WAS GOING TO BE DELUSIONAL I WOULD MAKE UP SOMETHING LESS OBVIOUS I MEAN THIS IS ONE STEP DOWN FROM THE WHOLE THINKING YOU'RE JESUS THING--WAIT HOW COULD WE POSSIBLY--OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE FUCKING TIME TRAVEL ARGH--

The Dreams show me an upside-down slingshot the moment I think this. No slingshot...around the sun in a stolen Klingon Bird-of-Prey to fetch whales from the past: it's not time travel!? Oh no what happened what was it--

--flying on Boobsong's back over newsvans with their dishes up over a huge crowd then turning to see the sunrise pink on the horizon, then diving to pick up speed and zooming out over dark water, the way the light rushed on it as we blurred over it was hypnotizing, gave me tingles, I'm leaning to one side of her neck, head low, I whisper in her ear and then bury my face in her mane and breathe deep of her refreshing candy perfume, then sit up and look at the rising sun. Boobsong flaps, and we rise away from the water, I'm staring right at the sun but of course it's not burning my eyes out and I can just see it there pink-tinted with dawn. Brilliant light in my eyes, but it's from me, I'm shining a beam at the sun, carefully and directedly so I don't boil the ocean (it feels like holding my hands in a funny shape like in religious icons but this is important, as it is there'll be weather from my incidental IR output, that's why we flew out to sea). I stop, and put a hand up and wave at the sun, grinning happily: I'm the Sugarfeast Fairy, and as the the the goddess argh of the spring holiday it's my job to greet the sun except can actually say hello in Infernal with light it'll be able to see--

--candles, a place like a church but underground, so many candles around the walls are golden with their light, mosaic pentagram underneath us like thirty feet wide, all of it is centuries old, someone in a purple velvet robe in front of me makes my heart-hands gesture very officiously with their hands starting high and slowly making the shape in front of their heart after passing down over their face which is hard to see in the candle-light and hood, a golden incense burner on a chain swings to the side of them--

--looking out over a crowd of purple-robed Illuminati like from Disney's plane giving some kind of speech or something--

--more conflation-jump weirdness, thousands of living rooms and desks all with different arrangements of flowers, some just buds, some blooming wide, some in the middle like those tulips were, seen through a blur of zillions of different kinds of frame, round-cornered and square-cornered and tall and and wide and some views cracked or scuffed--

--Boobsong's legs spread wide in a split and her puffy purple bubblegum pussy right in front of me, I look up over her, she's stuck to a pentagram on an altar with a place cut out to stand between the legs of the star. She looks back with that adorable I'm doing a good job right expression when I see her face, then I look up further to see a dark-iridescent place like the temple I collared her in and more of those purple-robed people watching. At least one is holding up a little palm-sized black mirror with an Apple Logo(!?) on the back of it like they're trying to catch Boobsong's picture with it--

--the fantasy I had at seven of diving into the TV screen and charging off up the cable to lands of adventure, but instead of having a random lion for a companion I'm riding Lyra in pony-form down the TV-static tunnel at lightspeed wait this isn't a memory of a daydream--

--with a sweet kiss and hand on Boobsong's cheek, I start the show, then throw her up off the ground against the glass that makes this world's only wall and pin her with my hands on her wrists. The wall is actually millions of walls. Each of them has a star with something in the center of it, summoning us--

--Boobsong looking into the back of the screen with intense desperate tears in her eyes and saying, "Yes this is how I feel and you feel the same way I bet. This is Sugarfeast, wish with me! Say Please I wish that for Sugarfeast now you say what you want I WISH MY PRINCESS WOULD SLIDE SUPER HARD INTO MY PUSSY YES SEE SUGARFEAST WISHES AAAAH COME HAAAH AAAH AAH REAL!!!" and how I grinned at her relief and fun noises as I finally entered her--

--broken glass, flat like from a screen, scattered on the floor, it's terribly important that I made no kind of conscious choice to break a window or scatter shards on my floor or anything like that, nor did any kind of random accident do it, that fact is burned into me with terrible force, like my not daring to pick it up, like it was sacred somehow--

That room that floor that keyboard--rage boils over like a thousand Unicron Rooms at once and my lips pull back like I can tear Eden's throat out here and now I wasn't supposed remEMBER THIS AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA--