Chapter 1
The Unlikely Homo
by:
Kruk
The world of anthroism has many an interesting race, but few can compare to the Phoenaxians. They are complex creatures,
with strange, yet intriguing abilities. For one, they write excellent homoerotic literature. The scripts are usually
plagued with spelling and grammatical errors, but the eroticism remains intact.
Another defining trait of the Phoenaxians is their ability to not die -- unless, of course, they do die -- in which case,
they die. Water is a particularly painful substance for these avian creatures to deal with, and they've been known to
take upwards of 200% damage from water-based attacks. Needless to say, most Phoenaxians are dead now, because the world
is around 70% water.
Oh, did I mention that Phoenaxians can only be male in gender? That's certainly an important point, as it makes it difficult
for them to have offspring. And what's more, it makes most of them gay...or perhaps "bi-curious."
Phoenaxians go through some intense emotional changes during their teenage years. All adolecents go through a stage in
their lives when they grow up, obviously. During this time they develop feelings of lust, and apparently
they crave much power. Of course, recently, there has only been one thing on the minds of these young phoenixes. Sex...er,
I mean "yiffing." Yes, yiffing.
Let us now peer into the world of one lustful Phoenaxian whose desire to yiff new things is about to change his life forever.
A tall silhouette stood against the morning sunlight. It absorbed the energy cast upon it as would an expensive, name-brand
sponge. Thick branches stemmed from the hard base, and shot in a thousand directions. They twisted and flexed
like the arms of a powerful gay man. The branches wrapped together and created a huge fortress of wood and phallic splendor.
It was called the Tree of Life, the last great bastion of the phoenixes. Hundreds of chirps could be heard mingling
together as the tree gained vigor at the start of the new day.
In a distant corner of this lively stronghold, several younger members of the community were discussing their future.
"I don't like where this is going," said Vallan, an able-peckered young phoenix. He spoke to his best friend, Frank, a
scrawny, weak, flaccid-
"Hey!" came Frank, turning around swiftly, "We both could sorta kinda use a change of pace, ya know? I'm slowly getting tired of
getting yiffed by your yiffstick, man." Frank's words were strong and high pitch. They cut into Vallan like a fat man
might cut into a sumptuous pie. Tears started to form in his big avian eyes.
Frank didn't want to hurt Vallan. They'd long been friends, but Frank had a burning desire to sleep around. "Maybe I can
sorta do it a little longer, ya know."
"Really?"
"Sure, man. I mean, it's cool," replied Frank, scratching his unusually large beak. Vallan gave him a warm hug, like
only a Phoenaxian could give, then skipped off to do his morning chores.
"Aw...damn it," Frank groaned to himself. Just the thought of Vallan's fiery yiffstick penetrating his rectum again made
his feathered skin crawl.
Frank and Vallan had been in a heated relationship for nearly four weeks, and Frank wasn't used to being with the same "mate"
for more than a few nights. When it came to yiffing, he preferred to "catch" as they say, and at last count, he'd "caught"
a wad or two from about three dozen men. He was gaining quite a reputation in the Tree, and most were afraid to get involved
with him anymore, as there was a rumor he was carrying several AYTDs (Avian-Yiff-Transmitted Diseases). This depressed
Frank greatly. He even considered running away from home, as he was becoming an outcast there.
Maybe I should go, thought Frank, it's not like I'll be missed here. My parents don't even take me seriously anymore.
He nodded to himself agreeably, then stopped suddenly. Do I even have parents? Phoenixes can't be female. Strange.
"Hey Fwanky!" came a loud blubbery voice, tearing Frank from his thoughts. It was Corky, a heavyset messenger of the
Fudge-Packing Ward, the ward in which Frank lived. The Tree of Life had six different wards that divided its citizenry
by class and job, which are more or less the same thing. The Fudge-Packing Ward was the second to lowest district, and
contained many laborers and male prostitutes.
Looking up, Frank saw the pudgy messenger who looked like he had something important to say. "Well, man, why don't ya
spit it out, huh?"
Corky peered around nervously, like he thought he was being watched. "Elder Cole wants ta talk ta ya, Fwank. It's impowtant."
His voice was little more than a whisper. This intrigued Frank greatly.
"What about, huh?" the loud high-pitch sound of Frank's inquiry echoed off nearby branches, sending flocks of
sparrows flying. Corky ducked, as if dodging the sound waves.
"Not so loud, Fwank."
"Oh. Okay, man."
Corky glanced around again, "Just huwwy!" he said, before running off into the nesting grounds nearby.
An aged, gray-feathered phoenix was crouched on his lavish perch in a dimly lit chamber. His eyes were closed and he was clearly in a deep
state of meditation. His mind was on the difficult task before him; he was to order a young Phoenaxian to leave the
Tree. The old bird knew that it had to be done, but that didn't make it any easier.
"Elder Cole, he has arrived," came the voice of an armored phoenix who stood in the light of the doorway.
Cole simply nodded in reply. This would not be easy. He knew the phoenix to whom he must speak. He had known
Frank since the gay birdie was a mere pecker, fresh from the egg. Cole had always wished to help him, but such a task was far out
of reach. Frank preferred his sordid life of sodomy, and it seemed as though nothing would make him change his ways.
Frank's silhouette appeared in the lit doorway, and he slowly approached Cole. "Oh hi, Master Cole, man. What's up?"
Cole chuckled, "I'm hardly your master, young Francis." He drew in a long breath and sighed uneasily. "I have important news
for you."
"Yeah, that fat guy said something and stuff, but then he like ran off."
"Corky new nothing of my message for you, Francis. Now please, listen to me."
Frank looked around the elaborate room and sniffed the air.
Cole decided to continue. "It has come to our attention that you are probably the one true descendent from the so-called
God of Life and the Lord of Flames."
Frank's eyes widened and he looked at Cole. "Huh?"
"We have done extensive researched into your genealogy and we have decided," Cole shifted on his perch, "that you must
leave the Tree of Life and fulfill The Code of the Phoenix."
Frank's large beak hung open and he remained perfectly still.
"I'm sorry, Francis. It must be done, for if The Code is not fulfilled, Phoenaxians may die-out completely."
"That's ... so ... COOL!" Frank yelled suddenly. His voiced rattled the windows and made one of the guards in the
hall yelp in pain.
Cole threw Frank a cockeyed look. "You do realized what this entails, correct? You must retrieve the scales of a
dragon! They possess fire greater than any phoenix, and I'm afraid few have ever returned from dragon encounters."
Frank stared at Cole in awe. His life had just become interesting again. Very interesting. "Hey, when do I get to leave,
Master Cole?"
"Well, right now." Cole snapped his feathered fingers and two guards entered the room. "You may go and pack, then these
gentleman will take you to the Shaft, where you will begin your descent to the world below."
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