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.Black Leaf and Marcie are Dead!	By : keithcompany Category: Comics > Chick Tracts Views: 3656 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This story uses characters based on Jack Chick's tract: Dark Dungeons. I do not own those characters and make no profit from this fanfic.

Chapter List
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I must admit that I have little respect for the Littering Missionaries.
The whole idea of leaving pamphlets lying around in bathroom stalls and lounges, then going into mutual back-patting chat rooms to brag about how many souls you saved leaves me cold. I can hardly see it as being in the tradition of nailed-to-the-cross Jesus to completely avoid any sort of confrontation or even eye contact to spread his message. No one has effected change by littering. Civil injustice was not overcome by leaving little shackles around where people would find them, hoping they'd have to confront their feelings on slavery.
And of the various sources of god-breathed litter, I find Jack Chick's works to be absolutely detestable. I find his screeds to often be pure hate speech. And while I would definitely champion this man's right to hold whatever opinions he has, I do feel that I have a right to express myself, too. The behavior and apparent motivations of the characters in Dark Dungeons astound me. The way Chick goes about sending a message about the horrors of RPG shows that he doesn't really know what he's talking about. The gaming isn't true to life, and the characters' actions don't support the conclusions offered.
I wanted to explore this tract, looking at characters and motivations, trying to match the scenes in the story with the world of my experiences. This is the essence of fanfiction: playing around with existing characters. And, of course, experimenting with a hawt woman that game-masters with blonde virgins, slash being the other essence of fanfiction. So. Here is my interpretation of the sorely abused and abusive Dark Dungeons tract from Jack Chick. If you feel that Chick is an outstanding example of evangelical zeal and should be held in esteem by all, you're probably already as offended as you're likely to get. I am sorry that you feel that way.
But then again, Jack's Tracts go a long way to offend gays, scientists, Catholics, liberals, RGPers, MST3Kers, conservatives, Christians, Canada, historians, Harry Potter fans, theologians and atheists. You are in good company.
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Minerva Frost pushed back from her desk and spun her chair around. The bay windows of her office gave her a lovely view of the college campus, with students crossing to and fro among the leaves just turning to fall colors. But she saw little of that. Mostly, she reveled in the power she had that had obtained a corner office for her. It was really quite amazing what an old fool would do for a regular blow-job. Then something caught her eye and eventually her attention.
One of her students was headed in the direction of the Math building. Just from the way he walked, she knew what he was coming here to do. At least, she thought with a smile, what he intends to do. She turned back around and arranged things on her desk. When the knock came, she was apparently hip-deep in correcting papers.
"Miss Frost?" a voice called.
"That's 'Ms. Frost,' Mike," she replied without looking up. "I've told you that a number of times." Mike Carter entered slowly, looking everywhere but at her as he slid to the center of her office.
"Ms. Frost," he started, "I have to tell you something."
"Mmmm?"
"Ms. Frost...I have to break up with you."
"Fine," she murmured, still correcting an exam. Strokes of her red pen flensed the answers. What were these people learning in high school? Monty Python math? Stupid plus coconuts equals passing?
"It's just that... What?" he asked.
"Fine," she said. She looked up and offered him a brilliant smile. "We've broken up. I can't argue with a manly man so set on a goal." He answered her smile with a weaker one of his own. She looked back down at her papers and he turned to go.
Just as his hand touched the doorknob, though, she cleared her throat. He froze. "Of course, Mike," Frost said, "we never really were dating now, were we?" His shoulders sagged. She dropped the act, and the pen, and leaned back in her chair. He turned slowly back around to face her. "You came to me, wanting to improve your grade, not take me to the Homecoming Dance." She tapped a finger on her desk. "You were willing to do...anything. That's what you said, and that's what happened. Right?" He nodded miserably.
"So. So, so, so, now your conscience has caught up with you." She stretched a bit, knowing what that did to the cleavage on this particular dress. "Either the sex, or the magic, or rumors about me on campus, have you wanting to run away, tail between your legs. That's what you want, not to 'break up.' Why, Mike? Was it the leash? Or the spurs?"
"It's just... It's wrong, Ms. Frost. What we did was wrong." His fists clenched and he took a step forward. It would be downright threatening if she hadn't seen a dozen boys do the same thing over the last semester. "I can't... I won't do it anymore."
"Even if I give you the grade you actually deserve?" she asked. "Remember, once you started coming over, you pretty well stopped handing in assignments."
"I don't care," he said.
"Even if I tell some people what you've done?" she smiled.
"I don't care," he insisted. "I know you can't tell on me without telling on yourself. You'll get in as much trouble as I do!" Tell on? she thought. Where are we, grade school?
"Trouble," she murmured, looking out the window. "If a man my age took advantage of a girl your age, the public would crucify him. If our...affair made it to the public, most of them wouldn't see a problem. Not two consenting adults having sex, anyway."
"I don't care," he repeated. Once more, he turned to leave.
"Eleven oh five, Maplewood Drive," she said softly, watching him freeze once more, then sag.
"What?" he asked.
"Oh, well, nothing that would interest you," she said. "You don't care about consequences. Such as your mother getting a package of photographs. You'll just tell on me, and she won't think any less of you, will she?" She opened a drawer and selected a manila envelope. Tossing it onto her desk, she selected a pen and a mailing label from another drawer.
"Dear Mrs. Carter," she rehearsed as she filled out the label. "I know this is terribly cliché, but it is effective. Enclosed, please find..."
"What do you want?" he asked. She gestured to the front of her desk. He obediently stepped to the place.
"I want you to masturbate," she said. "For openers. As a punishment for threatening to 'tell on' me." His eyes flickered to her windows. "Don't worry," she purred. "I put a spell on the blinds. Anyone looking in here sees only what I want them to see." The magic was bolstered by the lighting of the room. With the dark paneling and deep bays, no one outside could see anything in the room. She'd made sure of that.
"Ma'am, I can't just do that. Here. With the lights on."
"Either do that, or you'll owe me a more... inventive punishment later on. Now, STRIP!"
Slowly he lowered his trousers. As he lowered his briefs, he started smiling. Frost watched closely as he lifted his half-firm manhood and started stroking it. She leaned in to watch from just to the side. He leaned towards her, obviously expecting some assistance.
"Now, now, now," she tutted, getting up to walk around the desk. "This is a punishment. You don't expect me to help you, do you?"
"Aw, but, Ms. Frost..." he moaned. But he never stopped stroking. She leaned down again, observing the pumping action with clinical detachment.
"Interesting grip," she murmured. "You boys never cease to amaze me. It's all basically the same thing, but every one of you does it ever so slightly differently."
"Um...thanks?"
When she judged his testicles were as tight as they were going to get, Minerva reached out, tapped his hand out of the way, and ran a single fingernail from the bottom of his scrotum, up and around his shaft, and flicked the ridge of the purple knob. He screeched and came, shooting a thick wad of sperm into her waiting palm. She stood, bringing her drenched hand to his face. "Taste?" she offered.
His lips wrinkled in distaste. Minerva shrugged and dipped a finger in the warm fluid. Mike watched, mouth gaping, as she slowly lifted the finger up and over her own mouth. Just as she nearly brought it to her own lips, she paused. Mike stared, hardly breathing. Then she slapped him across the face with the sperm-filled hand. He staggered back, coughing and sneezing. Just before he wiped his face, there was a camera flash. He glared at his teacher.
"Now who do you think," she asked, gazing at the camera's display, "would get a bigger kick out of seeing you with a face-full of come? Your pastor? Your father? Oh!" she exclaimed. "Your pastor IS your father. What an efficient stroke of luck."
She offered him a moistened cloth. Minerva Frost probably had more aids for personal hygiene in her office than most companies have in their executive washrooms. Excepting the oil companies, of course. When he was presentable again, she told him when to be at her house and dismissed him. "Oh, Mike?" she called as he was about to leave. "Do you know a Marcie Anderson? Or Debbie Crusher?"
"Yeah," he said, surprised. "They were a class behind me, why?"
"Oh, they're in my high school class." She turned back to her exams.
"You're teaching in high school?" he asked. She rolled her eyes.
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Saturdays, her lovers were forbidden to come near the house. Minerva Frost taught one class a week for advanced high school seniors. It fulfilled their graduation requirements and earned college credits for them. Students from four area high schools attended that Friday session. From among them, she recruited gamers for her private sessions of Dark Dungeons on Saturday. It was entertaining for all.
"Alright," she said, turning the page in her game folder. "Your company gets back to town, where the villagers go wild. The celebration lasts for three days."
"Is there alcohol?" Joseph asked, smiling widely.
"Oh, there's alcohol," she said. "You're quite happily blotto." She always played to their illicit underage desires. They got to touch adulthood vicariously. She got inside their minds, rather explicitly. "So," she went on, rolling dice and consulting a table in her notebook. "Joseph? Your Ranger is propositioned by a beautiful High Elf maiden. Are you in or out?"
"Propositioned?" he asked.
"For sex," Debbie explained.
"Oh...uh, yeah, I am in."
"Took you long enough to decide," Howard joked, elbowing his friend.
"Howard," she called, rolling again. "Your Engineer has a chance with two half-breeds."
"I take it!" he shouted happily.
"Are they beautiful half-elves?" Marcie asked jokingly.
"Well, one is," Frost said. "The other's a half-orc."
"Oh! I, uh, I..." Howard muttered.
"You already said you're in," Sally laughed.
"Maybe you should have taken longer," Joseph said. Howard stuck his tongue out at him.
"Sally," Frost said, moving this along, "Your Sage finds herself in bed with," she rolled. She pretended to consult the table. "A mysterious figure. He wears a hood until the lamp is out."
"I try to find out more about the mysterious figure," Ray said.
"You don't know anything about Redcloak's visitor, Ray. Your Warrior-Priest is in bed with...." Another roll with a pretend table. Her peripheral vision watched the group of teens lean well forward in anticipation. The idea of a random sexual partner encounter table gave them no pause. "A fairy."
"A fairy?" he spluttered. "I can't, Death Dealer wouldn't... How is that even possible?" Kids. Straightforward intercourse was a mystery to them, how could they imagine the more exotic paths to satisfaction? She sketched quickly.
"Well, Ray, this fairy is rather high level. She can... She can take control of her own orgasm, as the feminists say." Minerva folded the drawing and passed it down the table. "She...changed you." Ray opened it silently. Joseph leaned over his shoulder to see the change.
"It's NeedleDick, the Bug Fucker!" he shouted.
"What about us?" Debbie asked, once the laughter died down.
"Yeah!" Marcie demanded.
"Okay, Debbie, your cleric, Wizard, finds herself..." As she rolled, Minerva considered Debbie's character. When someone asked for the cleric's name, she blurted 'Wizard,' then refused to correct it. "Her dad always wanted a magic user in the family," she insisted. "Like my dad always wanted a boy." The resistance to admitting mistakes, much less correcting them, drew Frost's attention like active sonar. That could prove useful.
"Oh. My. Wizard finds herself attracted to another character," she read off the page. Then she looked up. "And the only one left is Black Leaf." Stunned silence spread across the table. "Well, come on," Minerva said cheerfully. "This is why we play the game, isn't it? To explore new things, if only in our minds?"
Her two players stared at each other across the table.
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Minerva drew lines across Mike's hard-on with her fingertip. Under the silk panties she'd made him wear, his member throbbed and stretched at the attention. He lifted his hips, desperate for more contact.
"Stop that," she muttered, spearing the tip with a long, shiny nail. He moaned and subsided. "I want you to do something for me, Mike," she said. Her fingers drew lazy circles over his cock and balls.
"You remember Marcie?" He nodded. "I want you to see her. Call her, or maybe give her a ride home after class." He nodded again. "Don't date her, not exactly, just notice her, spend some time talking to her." She tugged at the panties, lowering them one side at a time, one inch at a time. His manhood thrilled.
"I'm curious if Marcie is as suggestible as some people claim gamers are. You know, the kind that if their character gets poisoned, they go to the emergency room and claim they've been bit by a snake?" He growled. She slowed the tugging as the elastic reached the end of his cock. The tip was the only part covered.
"I've suggested that her character is a lesbian," she explained. "When I stress her, through the game, I wonder if she'll turn to you or to her friend Debbie." He nodded, screeching into his gag. She smiled and gave him relief.
The panties cleared and the cock shot to its fighting position. She licked at the tip, gently, then started to suck. After only a moment of soft attention, she set to. The pressure was enough to mark his skin with a hickey. After the anticipation, he came almost immediately. She swallowed the hot surge of fluid, then licked him clean as he softened and shrank. When there was no more, she reached over and removed his gag.
"Don't forget, now," she whispered.
"Marcie. Platonic. Got it," he gasped. When his breathing leveled out, he raised his head to smile at her. "Is this for, like, a graduate study program or something? A social experiment?"
"Mike, darling," she said, much less seductively than before, "I teach Math. You're in my Algebra class, remember?"
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.Black Leaf and Marcie are Dead!