guyloveshotstories
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Feb 15, 2012
- Posts
- 6,552
You ever heard of 'Who Framed Roger Rabbit'? The movie where contemporary animated characters not only exist but are living in our world. Well, they're real! Not only are they real but other forms of fictional characters exist; animated, movie, comic books, video games...they are living with us. You think some animator is slaving away over a drawing board, putting the lines into someone's hair every single panel? No. They get that character to pose for photos.
Lara Croft, Black Cat, Catwoman, even Jessica "My proportions are not realistic" Rabbit are all living with us.
While they do exist in our world, they're not treated as real people. Toonies, they're called, even if they're realistic in design. Because people look down upon them for not being human, the police often do not show up if there was a crime committed against them.
That's where I come in.
The name is Han Atack, private detective of the Atack Investigation. I inherited the agency when my father died ten years ago. He was very sympathetic to the Toonies. They would ask him to track down blackmailers. Lost loves. All that jazz. Growing up, it was common to see Toonies in the office below our apartment. However, I wasn't into being a detective until my father's last couple of years. His health began to decline from a then undiagnosed lung cancer. With him being largely sidelined it became my responsibility to take up the slack. Father had many connections with the Toonies. They respected him. So, it was a serious loss when my father died. So much so that more Toonies were at the funeral than real people.
Now it was my turn. I sat behind my cluttered office desk, puffing on a cigar. A bottle of Jack Daniels was beside me. Long day. On the way back to the office I hitched a ride on the lite rail. It wasn't even half full. Standing on the platform was a Toonie, a woman from one of the Resident Evil games. Don't remember which one. She was trying to get onto the train, but the conductor was denying her because the woman wasn't carrying the special Toonie card. Because they were considered property of their respective companies the Toonies didn't have the same Rights as everyone else. They must carry a card and were often denied services. So, the woman didn't get to board. It's a damn shame. I bet the conductor jerks off to that woman when at home but was callous enough to deny her a simple train ride.
At the office the air was still, cigar smoke and scent lingered. The only noise was the gentle groan of the wood under the weight of me and the desk. It was quiet, peaceful. A good way to end the day.
Or so I thought...
(This story is one for a talented female writer. Characters are strictly adult. Can be established adult characters or original characters. The story can be fast and loose or so and serious. I don't do rape, scat, incest, age-play, BDSM, or sick stuff.)
Lara Croft, Black Cat, Catwoman, even Jessica "My proportions are not realistic" Rabbit are all living with us.
While they do exist in our world, they're not treated as real people. Toonies, they're called, even if they're realistic in design. Because people look down upon them for not being human, the police often do not show up if there was a crime committed against them.
That's where I come in.
The name is Han Atack, private detective of the Atack Investigation. I inherited the agency when my father died ten years ago. He was very sympathetic to the Toonies. They would ask him to track down blackmailers. Lost loves. All that jazz. Growing up, it was common to see Toonies in the office below our apartment. However, I wasn't into being a detective until my father's last couple of years. His health began to decline from a then undiagnosed lung cancer. With him being largely sidelined it became my responsibility to take up the slack. Father had many connections with the Toonies. They respected him. So, it was a serious loss when my father died. So much so that more Toonies were at the funeral than real people.
Now it was my turn. I sat behind my cluttered office desk, puffing on a cigar. A bottle of Jack Daniels was beside me. Long day. On the way back to the office I hitched a ride on the lite rail. It wasn't even half full. Standing on the platform was a Toonie, a woman from one of the Resident Evil games. Don't remember which one. She was trying to get onto the train, but the conductor was denying her because the woman wasn't carrying the special Toonie card. Because they were considered property of their respective companies the Toonies didn't have the same Rights as everyone else. They must carry a card and were often denied services. So, the woman didn't get to board. It's a damn shame. I bet the conductor jerks off to that woman when at home but was callous enough to deny her a simple train ride.
At the office the air was still, cigar smoke and scent lingered. The only noise was the gentle groan of the wood under the weight of me and the desk. It was quiet, peaceful. A good way to end the day.
Or so I thought...
(This story is one for a talented female writer. Characters are strictly adult. Can be established adult characters or original characters. The story can be fast and loose or so and serious. I don't do rape, scat, incest, age-play, BDSM, or sick stuff.)
