By gisy

>grew up in NC with good conservative parents

>spent my youth popping cans and hunting with the old man

>after highschool went to Uni and scored a gig with Hollinger

>that's when I stared to see them

>strange women, all invariably gorgous

>they were always hanging around the gun nuts

>but no one would seem to notice them, not even the guys they're with

>they'd always notice me looking and I'd get a wink or a kiss blown my way

>it didn't take long to realize that they were connected to the guns we own

>but not every gun had one connected to it, only guns that were special had one

>no matter how many times I come here, the sand tastes like shit

>it gets in the eyes and between your teeth

>I've been here a few times before during more peaceful times

>Saddam finally pissed off the US enough we're here to milk the country dry

>I was already working in Saudi Arabia so my editor jumped at the chance to imbed me

>he wanted a human piece, probably for propaganda

>can't let our boys look like monsters for crushing a 3rd world army without a second thought

>I was here a couple of years ago

>the fallout of Saddam's war against the Kurds had cought my attention

>it didn't hurt that I knew a guy, a brit named Scott who was with the BBC at the time

>pretty sure I was the only white face he'd seen for months when I knocked on his door in Basra

>we drank, smoked, and bullshit about the good, bad, and ugly

>we knew the fucking Kurds were set up in a house down the road

>no real suprise when Saddam's boys showed to blow their door down

>they got the wrong house of course

>twenty brown guys and one svelt red-head pouring out of a truck

>the woman of the house gets dragged out with her two small daughters

>hands on heads, knees in the dirt

>young guy behind one of the girls has his AK up against her head, sweating like a pig

>I'm a hundred yards away and I can see the gun shaking in his grip

>new guy is obvious

>everyone is yelling or screaming

>red-head walks up to the captives and looks in each of their eyes

>she puts her hand on the new guy's gun just as the commander orders the execution

>the girl scrambles clear as her gaurd's gun jambs

>her mother and sister weren't as lucky

>all solders are the same so I hung out where they would gather to catch the eye of the women

>most could only speak russian, but there would be one or two who spoke arabic

>I soon learned that they truly hated their masters, but work is it's own reward

>I got to hear a lot from them: pending manuvers, the state of army, tactics, etc

>they helped me find and talk to a lot of people, it was like having your own intellegence network

>I asked one why she was so helpful once

>she told me to look around, to tell her who would make better company, an enemy or a savage?

>that question was on my mind as I rode into Basra for the second time in as many years

>this time in a truck filled with grunts as a conqueror

>the US forces didn't have the gun girls I expected, in fact, I didn't see any

>unlike the locals, who's army compartively crawled with them

>as my unit began to clean up the Iraqi weapons, the ones with girls would try to hide themselves

>the ones who weren't able to, or were found, would follow their physical presence to the truck

>some were stoic, some cried, some seemed happy in knowing it would soon be over

>in all cases the ones who were still hidden would raise an arm in silent salute

>the actions of the guns was far more mesmerizing than the actions of the humans around them

>as the action wound down, I seperated from the occupying forces and found a place to stay

>switching to local food again resulted in some discomfort and I embarked on an ill-advised stroll

>the sun had long set as I made my way back to the house I was staying at

>glancing down an allyway, I noticed a gun girl slumped on the ground

>always a sucker for a pretty woman I wandered down the ally toward her

>not seeing a gun, I started to look for anything that might be buried

>the hood of a front sight peeked up through the dirt

>she jumped slightly and glared at me as I lightly tapped my toe against her sight

>sitting down beside her, she seethed at me as I reached into my jacket for my flask

>she demands to know what I'm doing sitting beside her

>will wonders never cease, she speaks perfect english

>reply that I'm having a drink in the shade

>"the sun set hours ago, you stupid american" she retorts as her nose twitches at my flask

>the fastest way to a russian gun girl's heart is a bit of alcohol

>true to form, I pass my drink over and it's quickly snatched away

>after her drink, she's a little more relaxed

>ask her how long she's been here

>she's not sure, it's been a long time though

>her past owner, a Kurd, had a fit of fear and buried her here but was killed shortly after

>it would have been far better to have been killed fighting with honour, than die like a dog

>she passes the flask back and I pull one

>her taste is still on the rim and it gives me flashbacks to summer thunderstorms

>ask her how she got to speak english

>she laughs, the kurd was educated in the UK and loved his asian cartoons

>told her a bit about myself as the flask passed back and forth

>the conversation pauses as we listen to gun fire in the distance

>"a 74... huh" she mumbles to no one.

>ask her if she knows why everyone in this shit hole can't shoot

>she starts choking on her drink trying to laugh again

>"that was us!" she replies excitedly inbetween coughs

>"the savages are too easy! we started it as a joke and somehow they took it to be the right way."

>"how'd you convince them to do it?"

>"dreams of course, they thought they were visions"

>people are running past the alley, some are armed and very much not US forces

>another gun girl follows a local carrying an RPD

>she glances at the ak beside me before moving on

>"american, I'd suggest you dig me up if you want to live"

>off my ass and onto my knees, I'm clawing at the dust

>the gun pulls free of the ground, magazine still in

>"magazine out, dump the dirt out! barrel at the ground, and cycle the bolt!" she orders

>dust flies out in a cloud as I rack the bolt

>"magazine in and load!"

>she's already pulling me deeper into the shadows as gun fire erupts in the street

>the RPD has already started with long strings of fire

>"what the fuck is going on?" I hiss at the ak "this isn't US forces!"

>"of course not, the rats are killing each other" as she slaps a hand over my mouth

>I can feel her vibrating and her breath is heavy on my neck

>it's not fear, she's excited.

>as the roar of weapons reaches a cresendo, a man stumbles into the ally

>he's sillhouetted against the street lights, pistol in hand

>he starts stumbling down the alley when he spots me

>with a cry he raises the pistol and a sharp click passes between us

>the ak is already lifting the gun into my shoulder as the man tries to clear the misfire

>a single crack from the gun in my hands and the man falls to the ground

>the ak waltzes over to his slumped figure and kicks him over, a dark pool around his feet

>"I was going to congratulate you on a kill, but he was already dead, he just hadn't died yet"

>the adrenaline was starting to come along with a flood of thoughts

>the ak is staring at me "oh poor boy, that was your first human?"

>I nod, this is not my first time seeing death, and not my first kill, but I just removed a human

>"you need to go now, I can hear helicopters."

>I'm talking but no words are coming out

>"take me with you, he might not be the only one tonight"

>I drop the magazine in a pocket and the gun under my jacket

>the barrel is sticking out but in the chaos, no one will notice or care

>down the alley away from the trickles of gun fire and out onto the street

>the ak and I head straight back to the house and the door is opened by a releived looking landlord

>his eyes drop to the barrel

>"I thought you said you were a reporter?"

>"I am, but I got caught in that shit and it's a long story"

>he doesn't say anything more and I headed up to my room with the ak in tow

>she flits about the room which is comprised of bedroom, a tiny bathroom, and walkout balcony

>she throws the doors to the balcony open and rushes to the rail to watch the apache's circle

>the occasional roar of their guns sends her into fits of giggles

>"the RPD is still down there" she mentions "the savage is trying to shoot helicopters"

>she's openly laughing when I ask if the RPD will be alright

>she slowly turns as her laughing stops

>"are you well? do you have brain damage?"

>it's not mental illness to care for another being

>the ak sighs and nods her head

>"american, there is no greater honour than distruction in fighting a superior enemy"

>"at least that's what our father told us."

>I thought I had a pretty good handle on these gun girls, but a "father" was a new one

>when I asked, I got a huge smile as she skipped back into the room

>"Where is the rest of your vodka? We should toast to RPD!"

>as we sat on the balcony with our glasses, the RPD fell silent against her enemies

>"Oh! She loved him in the end. They died together." she lifted her glass in salute

>"Drink for that man american, he fought with skill and ferocity."

>as she refilled our glasses, she gestured at the two circling apaches

>"Let's drink to the victors!"

>we soon ran out of legitamate things to toast to

>as the bottle dwindled we ended up saluting the stay dogs fighting in the street

>we had made some bets over the dogs

>if she won, I'd have to field strip her and give her the cleaning of her life

>if I won, she'd have to answer any question I wanted

>thankfully, I happend to win

>several hours later I had learned more about the gun girls then in all the years previous

>Many had come into being during the soviet occupantion of afghanistan

>seized by the locals and saudi "holy warriors", the guns had grown to resent their new masters

>apperently the guns found very few worthy warriors

>turns out that when a gun girl can becomes experienced enough, she can manifest physically

>these women, formerly mausers and enfields, had already taken these worthy men as husbands

>the ak's who fell into their hands would become adopted family

>the vast majority were not so lucky

>they fell into a tourturous life of sister against sister in petty wars

>lethal games that were devoid of meaning by men who were less than worthy

>the guns had become bored, growing to both sabotage their masters and bait worthy enemies

>as the years went by, death had become prefferable to living for most

>our invasion had breathed new life into them

>even if they had hamstrung thier masters, and by extension themselves, they were facing a real enemy

>their father would be so proud

>ak lauded Kalashnikov as her father though she had never seen him

>gun girls who were said to be older sisters would come and inspect the rifles

>these inspections would be reported back to father

>perhaps he could see the girls as well

>she seemed very dissapointed that she had lost her bet for a cleaning

>I was able to mollify her with a promise to the next night

>ak didn't show any interest as I cleaned up for bed

>and even less when I placed the gun within easy reach before crawling under the covers

>I woke up later to find ak on her hands and knees over top of me

>the pale moonlight highlighted the curvature of her body reminding me of how beautiful she is

>a smile spread across her face revealing sharp, needle like teeth

>"Oh ho! Such naughty thoughts for a pure, innocent gun like me!" she whispers

>"Help me, I've been captured by an evil capitalist monster!"

>I'm pretty sure there's only one monster in the room, and it's not me

>"What's the matter, gun got your dick?"

>I shake my head as I lean up and lock my lips to hers

>she lets out a soft moan as her tongue forcefully finds mine

>I've got both hands behind her head as she starts ripping the covers off

>her long sinuous tongue is winding itself around mine, pulling it into her own mouth

>I can feel the distinctive ak claws tugging up my shirt and down on the shorts

>she breaks our kiss with a pop, leaving a thread of drool between us

>mischief fills her black on black eyes as her tongue drags down my bare chest

>wrapping itself around my erection, she guides it into her drooling mouth

>not a hint of those demonic teeth as she starts pumping fury and unnatural precision

>her beat never slows as I release down her throat

>after making a show of letting my tip drag down her face she guides it to her folds

>she straddles me as she slowly lowers herself down, sucking in a breath as she pushes past a resistance

>ecstacy washes over her as she grinds down onto my lap, eyes rolled back and tongue between her breasts

>the precision is gone as she alternates between grinding and bouncing

>soon I'm shooting another load deep into her as her pussy spasms in the throes of her peak

>she's left nearly comatose on her knees as her tight belly twitches

>I pull her off and lay her down, the sheet loosely pulled over us before wrapping her in a hug

>she's curled up around my arm fast asleep when I wake up to a delightful hangover

>slipping out of her embrace, I'm cleaning up in the bathroom when a hear a scream from the bed

>I rushed around the corner to find her tearing the bed apart

>she freezes when she sees me, relief washing over her

>I get a good look at the girl in front of me, far more human than the monster I bedded last night

>gone are the claws, replaced with long slender fingers, the needle like teeth are also gone

>her black shark eyes have cleared to white sclera with blue slitted irises

>another scream, this time for joy, as she launches herself from the wrecked bed at me

>we hit the floor hard as plants kisses over my face repeating "it's not a dream" over and over

>I hold her close as she wraps herself around me burying her face into my chest

>Arrruugh! Why is the floor cold!" she exclaims as she claws her way back on top of me

>explain that the floor is in fact, very cold as we help each other up

>she's starting to shiver as confusion spreads on her features

>"what is going on?? why am I shaking?"

>apperently cold is something new to her, so, into the shower she goes while I finish cleaning up

>to her account, showers are the opposite of cold but there is something new about all this

>the water droplets are splashing off of her

>usually a gun girl chooses how she interacts with the world around her

>as ak hums happly in the shower, I opened the medcine cabinet and tipped the mirror toward her

>reflection is the ultimate test to see if a person "exists"

>she has a reflection

>I tip the mirror further toward her and the motion catches her eye

>she's frozen in place as her eyes twitch between my and her reflection

>"Holy shit! That's me!"

>we spent the next couple of hours discovering how she reacted to the world around her

>she still has her natural gifts: telepathy, speed, the goast-like phasing

>a new one as well: she can "summon" the gun, it dissapearing and reappearing in her hands

>as I dressed, she pulled the balcony doors open and stood, bare to the world, bathed in sun

>I realized that her body had changed even from earlier this morning

>less sinewy as her hips and bust filled out, but obviously still powerful

>other than her eyes, she was passibly human

>this presented a bit of a problem

>she has her ancient uniform that was far too military to blend in

>as I mulled this over, she walks back over to me fully clothed

>chalk up another skill

>she had conjured a modest long sleeved dress with matching heels

>I get a snarl when I mention that the women are required to wear headscarves

>"Those fucking savages can fuck off"

>it'd be funny as hell to see the morality patrol go up agaisnt the equivilent of a demi-god

>the downstairs is thankfully empty as we snuck down the stairs

>I spotted a note on the counter and although my arabic is rusty, it was intended for the finder

>out landlord was a baathist and it appears the shiite's caught up to his family

>he went out to avenge them, poor bastard is probably dead already

>might be worth forwarding this to the US commanders

>it's not good business to have locals fighting

>pocketing the note we strike out for breakfast

>I had momentarly forgot how much I hated this place but watching ak discover food is mezmerizing

>we stopped at a baker to find something to eat and she ended up with a bag full of pastries

>as we sat in the storefront, I noticed an allied patrol coming down the road

>running out, I held out the note to the gunner who snatched it as he passed by

>good deed done for the day, I retreated back to ak

>who's beaming face is covered in baking sugar and bits of pastery

>after mentioning this to her, she promtly uses her prehensile tongue to delicately clean herself

>I'm not going to look around to see if anyone saw that display

>you can get the girl out of the ak, but can't get the ak out of the girl

>I ended up deciding that since the political bullshit had reached our door, we were going to move

>it seemed like a waste to commit ak to a potential fight so we headed over to the hotel

>this was where all the western media congreated and the military provided general security

>it made it easier for the establishment to disseminate informaiton

>sloppy reporters suckle at the teat and didn't bother going outside

>I had ak let me do the talking as we checked in

>told the guy that she was my wife who had stopped by on a suprise visit

>she's standing there red as a beet and won't make eye contact

>the elevator ride is short and really quiet

>not a peep comes from her until the room door closes behind us

>"Um, I know it's the story we are telling everyone..." she drifts off before regaining her courage

>"But would you consider me as a wife?"

>that's an interesting question

>I gathered my thoughts by throwing the bags on the bed and pulling them apart

>ak's still red, stareing at the floor, grasping the front of her dress, and she hasn't budged an inch

>I ask if she actually knows what it means, and if so, is she serious about it

>she nods vigourously, she knows

>if she's serious, then I'll be serious as well

>"I'd guess we'd better get you one of those canadian passports then"

>she's slower than usual on the uptake, but when she finally does she collaspes to her knees

>she's laughing and crying at the realization

>both of us will get to leave this sandy shithole


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