Readied Combat- More or less

Praise thee be my afro;

One may argue of size and style, I do not.

I might've but now not, and since just now I would not have any other hair, I nodded a beautiful face to it.

Like a womb in the head, womb of a Rock-tanned Gorilla of Silver Plains, known as most thick skinned; in both skin and skull. Impenetrable even by the daggers of death, all that and with not a spell casted on it-

And like such skin but better were my afro; Forlorn a thought though I might at first, I now praised the wisp for this might in thine head.

Without them charred curly cauliflowered bloom, withholding indestructible nature in its intesive-ness I would be a pitiful tethered meat but I and my puckered lips were saved from a case of being turned into a meal and headless at that, I understood if I were to be eaten all and all but being headless would betray the idea of me might, if any funeral services were to be done.

To die with full a body intact somehow perfumes a good mighty death but headless? Need some word be born more for such a cowardice death but until then, to die headless speaks of utter defeat to I and that I must not want.

Never more so, I was saved for a short being from that rocketing thing in the air, eyes near popped scaling the fat scaly belly and unearthly horns and overall size, "A fucking bus!" It was a sight to behold, and to the thing that saved me, it was a sight to be thankful to- to the mostest of most.

"I love you!" I shakily proclaimed to the hair.

Caressing my afro, that puffy shape, they moved not to any, they remained as they always remained even if that fucking thing knocked me butt down.

They were always mighty.

And;

As the fat croc fell from it's failed lunge, still fat and high up it's reptilian cold eyes steamed at me, "Fucker saw me for lunch!" nervous smile which curved for me thought the croc was very daring, I hurriedly kicked the ground and tumbled the butt and over, the afro sprang me as I did and amazingly I sprung and stood.

'How deep would you have to be to hide that fat-ass?' thought I of the traitorous river.

I don't see myself wanting to fight that which nearly ate me, the Wyvern? It lasted not for long, in its shitting and our executing during the shitting; however this Fat-Croc as it landed, a loud water breaking belly flop to the ground was more worth to be weary, the croc was more threatening, it was already on prowl, set and focused, the menu were I.

Might it be? Am I handsome to the point I am seen a delicacy?

Narcissistic joys lasted not long, it lasted much longer in face of danger yet it lasted not long;

For that Fat-Croc of maybe two and a quarter of a half of Elephants conjoined, smooshed-trunks to asses they were like; The Giant maw of rotting stink murder pile- It hisses at yours truly, showing me murdering teeth of dirty death, each- all larger then a two year old baby vikings; savage and wide, the air which seeped through them smelled of the cave of digested death.

It was cold death, freezing prey in sight- unmoving, waiting patient for one murderous pounce, solely bent on mincing my flesh.

Dead scaly eyes, too big to get acquainted to, they blinked not.

Running seemed not a good take, as me mind scanned for ways to handle this Pocket Monster encounter; I would never consider a fight until;

'Kill it?' a thought sprang, "Kill that?" the mouth strikes back, nearly angered to the impossible that it heard.

'Meat!' then cooked a picture of the croc meat; the mind did, fish-stick style.

"Impossible meat!" I nearly harrumphed, I rather liked meat, picturing this majestic murder beast roasting on a stick then it occurred, 'Kill first! Cook later! If can't run later later!!'

Then as it were, a kill was for due.

The fact I knew, of me being a Star-Descent and this being a game still amped up that confidence meter, albeit fear still grabbed hold of thine spine, I nearly shook but maybe I did in faced with those gigantic teeth.

Facing a very readied foe gave not a merry tension, instead the body nearly cowered, these microscopic hairs, never seen but always felt; specially then when faced with pixelating death, they stood up, tingling the skin, I felt as if they were urging me to run, yet the mind enticed me for a kill and with little jittery bravery act, I tried to at least un-alive the beast even if I felt the flaps of extra skins in-betwixt the thigh hardening and just being a plan fucking bother, "What now?" groaned I.

Down below I felt, between the thighs where two golden apples hang with a banananana in the middle, 'I like to add that extra 'Nana.' '

I reached slowly my hand, down the pants and grabbed that fabric slow and steady, two disfigured golden apples- rough and scabrous they were and all three cuddled together inside a skin that felt like unfolded clothes, piled together hard like cement in that one single chair found in a man's room, the banananana too retreated their longness, like a turtle.

As if it took my fine balls checking gesture for a cue, the Croc creeped slowly for a second whilst me thought, 'I'm finna have a boner!?'

Twas glad now that I was wrong.

I know but in my defense these balls had never shriveled up so small and hard; eye to eye contact that hath not wavered, it would be safe to say that right there and then I begrudgingly almost agreed that I had a thing for scalies.

I religiously knew porn in my life, quiz me and I'll ace it but I've never really knew how all genitals would work in fucking practice. I understood their designs, a poker in the other and a hole for another, together you get the calculation called sex and a solution called a toddler after nine months of plus-ses and minus-ses.

So in that defense I decreed I had not known then how boner works.

As I was away in thoughts- trains of thoughts to which I was solely and only capable of till now, moments might've lingered on too long for that fat-croc decided to take a small step forward, scaly yellowed eyes dead set at yours truly, they were gauging the distance for one quick destructive lunge.

These be dire times; and in all seriousness mode on I had only one plan in mind, 'Kill! Turn kill to meat!' as it were and the plan for it was to jump back a foot or two further and let out my aura during the jump, what follows was to manipulate thine aura for a longer range of battle, that was the only plan for I knew not to trust thine all to my power. Due the nature, twas best to put a safe distance first and pray for one one-hit-KO move.

Best I could do then was scan the great beast.

'Scan forth brave blues!' thought I, dwelling more to literary style, it is kinda fun to go at it like these, totally rad' bruh! A fucking verbal debauchery.

And hence commence thy tale; as I scanned;

Scaly tail with horns on every edges, little stubby horns but stabby and crushy still.

Big fat stubby legs that crept, always crept.

One large long fat belly, dragged, always dragged.

If not for it's longer than twice of long tail, juking it's murder hole would be a simple two year old exercise but with such an intricate design from the sadistic Muller, these beasts as I faintly read could use their tails for one epic lunge at prey.

With knowledge, I hatched that plan and all I needed was for this body to follow command.

But;

These fucktards! Limbs! 'Back to default are you?' I cursed, they heed not what thine commands.

I tried once to leap back but failed twice, How was that possible? I have not an idea in mind.

The heart as one might suspected was hearty.

No really, it was beating calm despite the body playing a statue.

"Its just a game." I tried to encourage meself, who knew you needed to.

One a fat leg, crept close; and one a big fat sweat fell from brow.

"Just a fucking game hot-bod!" I tried a flirt.

Two fat fore-limbs, dragged the fat belly and two fat sweats fell, "Do the jump!!" I now begged.

Then the croc settled, slow it waved and readied its slapping, mountain maiming tail, digging down the dirt it now were.

I could see it, a gigantic tail digging down the ground just besides the river, readying a thrust and propel his murder jaw.

This indeed made the throat gulped, "Uh-Ooooooh!…. Do the jump!" shouting I muffled with my teeth, but a soul could pray I was frustrated and- Shouting.

One might also suspected that thine recently rejuvenated body hath not known for what muscles to work for the jumping.

But hath not I told all thee that mundane stuff of the body just comes to me naturally.

I was utterly just too damn much a pro to living and that's the because.

However now, twas a noob;

The Fat-Croc sensed the miscommunication in my part with past many fat legged creep, its nose caught that familiar scent, the ripened moment to strike;

And with a shockwave of a snap of it's tail, the beast's propelled, teeth first and all jazz music that might've played in it's dinner which were I.

However; I with perks of being a Star-Descent saw a slowed time for a dodge as seen by thine blues.

"Do it! Moveeeee!" I yelled, with all veins on thine neck, this time I commanded with force and just as that swoosh of an object before it hits an object was felt; just as I felt the smell of it's stank teeth my thighs finally leapt on back; and much aced at that for I floated and flowed in the air, 'This…' I thought, the trajectory, it suits a, 'Back flip!' I grinned wide.

Star shaped pupils despite danger, I did a long flip, "Aura come forth!" I called.

A spherical bubble emerged- I find myself professionally sticking a landing even much further than planned but it was better, "Oh Gator my gator! Uh-Uh!" I smiled at its dumb little teeth, that might've readied they-selves for a tasty bite.

My confidence was quick to dwindle and shamelessly quick to prosper albeit loudly.

I might've been shaken with freight and that might've frozen me.

The radius, the width, the volume, whatever the term maybe of my aura was still pathetically small, and in it's base shape of a sphere, it fell ultimately very short to affect the croc with whatever bullshittery I might conjure.

And there I stood; rainbowed flecks of mana like dusts in winds floated inside my bubble and I-

Smirking- I pointed a majestic little finger-gun at the giant snoot of the croc who missed it's prey, with posture of the finest stance of a confident little sophisticated pompous, displayed abs and all- I was a sight for the ladies, and with a smirk I was the blame for all falling panties.

Sparkling eye, closed was the other aiming a finger gun- heroic and cool to the most limit I said, "Get cooked!"

The idea was for the aura to stretch out, as far it could.

Even a little smudge of a distance would suffice and whence said aura touched or encumbering the snout of the croc to which I aimed, whatever comes of my power would somehow do a thing to the croc.

However;

My aura remained unmoved, remained a sphere, "Fuck?" I fucked a question.

My poise of a full on 'Bond' move with an aimed finger-gun was attacked by me own short-doing and Alas! As the throat gulped another near choke-ful-a-air; the Fat-Croc dug the lands under once a more, already readied for another lunge but this time it was fiercer more with pissed-off bloodlust for yours truly dodging- seething from those murder rows and it snapped the tail loud and shot a fat ton of teeth at yours truly, "Uh-Oh!"