This is my first time writing anything like this. I hope you all enjoy my story. A lot of it is about me myself. Please, don't take my work and use it as your own. Also, if you were looking for a quick fuck-read, this isn't for you. There will be sex, but it's coming later.
I can't say that I'm any masterpiece of manhood. I'm not the most athletic person in the world, and it shows. Frankly, I got some pudge. Doesn't bother me in the slightest, not at all. I suppose it bothers the girls, though. I just can't see why. Isn't love supposed to be something beyond the physical?
I used to think, when I was little and watched my parents, that there was someone for everyone, no matter what they looked like. I dropped that like a rock a long time ago. You see, in my twenty short years of life, I've barely been able to approach a girl romantically without some form of disgust or the like. Oh, I've got girlfriends aplenty, just not in the good way. I guess I just understand them, is all.
It occurred to me that most girls of this day and age fit the stereotype of the hot-guy, bad-boy seeking woman who could be after any number of things, such as money, influence, some guy with a hot body, or some of that ilk. Don't ask me why, because I can't claim to know. Oh wait, yes, I can. It's because most girls want to be set for life, whether there's love or not. I'm not being an ass, I just see this all the time. My friends always come crying to me whenever their newest boyfriend breaks up with them, asking me why, why Danny, why did they break up with me? I just respond with the usual; you're way too good for him, and he doesn't know what in the hell he's missing. As it so happens, that's quite true. Most of my girlfriends are real gems, stars of womanhood, if you will. How I came to be acquainted with them is of now consequence right now.
I grew up alone, being adopted my parents at birth. I had no brothers or sisters, or at least none that I knew of, even though I desperately wished for a little sister. It's just in my personality to want to take care of girls younger and smaller than me. And with my 6 foot 5 inch stature, ALL girls seem small to me. No, it's not a sister complex, it's just an instinct. And most of my girlfriends treat me like a brother, so it isn't all bad. But anyways, because I grew up as an only child, I always felt disconnected from everyone and everything. Even my parents, who loved me deeply. I loved them too; just... it never felt like... family. I know I was better off than a lot of kids in this world, but it just didn't ever gel for me.
When I finally left for college two years ago, I was truly happy. It meant a new beginning for me. I could start over meet lots of people, and branch out. To be sure, I did plenty of that. Hence my network of girlfriends. Well, I can't really blame them for not liking me in the slightest romantic way. Like I said, I'm not anywhere near a masterpiece of manhood like several of my male friends. But I always told myself that there was a girl out there for me who would see me for the person and not what I'm not. Well, that didn't exactly work out. I know I haven't really been alive long enough to know for sure, but what are you going do when you're heart is full to bursting with so much love that it feels like there's a giant gaping hole inside your very being because the love has nowhere to go, and your heart, mind, and soul are all screaming out at your incompleteness?
I managed. I settled into the role for close friend and brother, which is fine for me, I guess. In the long run, neither myself nor my happiness is very important to the Grand Design that runs our lives. At least, that's what I used to think.
Let's jump to the present, shall we? It happened one night as I was walking back to my apartment off campus from a very, very long meeting with one of my closest friends who simply insisted I was the only one who could comfort her through her break-up. Like a good friend, I went and consoled her, because God damnit, I do care about my girls. And it's plainly obvious they adore me, just not in the way I would like from some of them.
As I was walking, I just happened to look up at the sky in a northerly direction, and I thought I saw something much like a shooting star. Only, it moved way to slowly to be a shooting star, and it seemed to be... descending, to a point not to far away from where I myself stood. Ok, now I'm a sci-fi, supernatural junky, not at the point of being a complete geek, but close. And so enthralled, I went to the place where I assumed the light would make contact with our fair planet.
I reached the site, and hid behind a tree as the light touched down, and got ready to watch history in the making. Seriously started pondering which planet the light may have come from... until I noticed the large, bright, white-feathered wings seemed to be lowering the light to the ground. I was still to bright to make out anything within the light itself, but I could see the wings clearly enough. "No way," I whispered. Then I started thinking about what it could be inside that light, and only one answer came easily to mind: angel. But that couldn't be... could it?
At long last, the light touched down delicately. For some reason, it seemed that whatever was inside the light was feminine. The light started to fade, and seemingly the wings started to fade out with the light. In its place stood something that could barely be described with words.
As it turned out, it was a woman, and what a shining example of womanhood she was! She was clad in a simple one piece; close fitting, cotton dress that hugged all of her curves marvelously. Her round, firm breasts were accentuated, her small, round buttocks stood out clearly under the fabric of the dress. Her silvery-blonde hair fell in grand-curls to her shoulder blades, framing her heart-shaped masterpiece of a face in the silky strands. To say her face as perfectly formed would have been an insult. Like I said, it was beyond description. Her eyebrows were perfectly arched along her narrow forehead. Her puffy, plump lips were the perfect shade of pink imaginable. Her small, button nose was the perfect size for her face. Her high cheekbones and graceful chin had the perfect definition and curve to them. Her pale, almost porcelain colored skin had the faintest tint to it, giving it a warm glow, despite being rather white.
But the most stunning part of her was her eyes. They were like nothing I had ever seen before. The irises were an almost swirling silver-grey color, and the pupils seem to be as deep and vast as the universe itself. Well hell, if this was and angel (and by now I was convinced she was), she must have seen much of the world in her immortality. Well, it was at that moment that I took notice of the fact that if I could see her thus, she could see me too. And I was right.
She had indeed noticed me. Those silver pools of eyes focused on me and held me captive as she took a few steps in my direction. It was then we caught the sounds being made from the opposite side of the courtyard we were in. Her head snapped around at the sounds. Released from the spell of her eyes, I turned and was about to run off; when I heard one of the people who had just enter the courtyard speak up.
"Well, well, well. I just got done with my girlfriend, but I was kind of in the mood for dessert. And look what we found, boys. I think we need to give her a hand with that dress of hers," said a voice from behind me. I turned. There were three of the university football team's players on the other side of the courtyard, eyeing the woman up and down hungrily. The two of the players who hadn't spoken yet advanced on her. Before she could even open her mouth to scream, or do anything of the sort, one clamped his hand over her mouth, and another onto her arm. The other player came up and grabbed her other arm.
The one, who had spoken, who I now recognized as the team's captain, James Richards, advanced and grabbed the woman's legs. He pushed her dress up and started undoing his pants. "Mom, you look good enough to eat, sweaty. I haven't seen you around before. Doesn't matter though, you'll be passed out cold before the three of us are done with your sweet, sweet body. Be sure to hold her now, guys," he said huskily to his two subordinates. They smiled wolfishly and tightened their grips on the woman.
For her part, she struggled quite a bit. I think the robbing of her voice was the biggest shock, at first. Then what they planned to do settled in and she fought, or tried to at least. Those guys were strong. I could hear a zipper unzipping and pants dropping. Then there was the ripping of cotton. That was enough of that.
I felt around until my fingers wrapped around a rather strong, sturdy branch. I hefted it, testing the length and thickness of it as a weapon. It would do. Quite nicely, in fact. I really, really don't like guys who force themselves on girls. Its so... wrong. Women should be regarded as goddesses, and accorded the respect of such. That's what I think, despite my luck. And so I nursed the pure, unchained rage that bubbled up from somewhere deep inside me at the sight of there idiots trying to rape this vision of perfection. Raping an angel. How low can a man go, truly? Well, they didn't seem to notice what she was, even if I did. Maybe if they had, they would have left her in peace.
I ran across the grass, silent as death despite my bulk, and swung the branch behind my head. I brought it down with a crack on the back of one of the guys holding the angel's arm. He dropped like a rock. Ouch, that's gonna hurt tomorrow morning. This is what you get for rape, pal, I thought to myself with grim satisfaction. Only then did the other two take note. I cracked the other one a glancing blow to the top of his head, and he let go of the poor angel and fell backwards away from my swinging rage. By now, James had his pants back up (blessedly, he hadn't been able to penetrate the angel, due to my timely, if ill-advised rush to her defense). He got inside my guard and punched me square in the jaw. I reeled, dropping the stick. The angel rolled out of the way, trying to avoid us. I cocked my arm back and smashed James right in the center of his smug face, and he went reeling away.
Unfortunately, my punch sent him close to the stick I had dropped. He smiled, an evil smile, hefted it, and rushed me. I suddenly found I couldn't move. His minions had appeared from off the ground and attached themselves to my arms, pinning them and rendering my helpless. "I'm gonna pay you back triple for that, you fat bastard," James growled and spat blood. He began beating my with the stout stick, beginning in the legs, and moving upwards. He attacked my arms, my chest, my thighs, even my feet. Smiling evilly, he dropped the stick low, and brought it straight up, hitting me full on in the crotch. Oh god, did that hurt. I sagged in the minion's arms, gasping for breath and seeing stars before my eyes.
I looked over at the angel, and saw tears streaming from her beautiful eyes, watching my beating. Oh, god, she shouldn't be seeing this brutality. Deep inside, I vowed to prevent anyone from ever making her cry again, which of course depended on the facts that I survived this and that I saw her again if I did. The players were drunk, so there was no telling how far they would go. It was at that time James caught sight of where my gaze lingered. "Oh, so this valiant effort was for that bitch? What, she your girl? Wait, that couldn't possibly be. You're ugly as sin, and she's obviously way out of your league. Hmm, well, whatever. I promise not to hurt her... too much," he said with an evil smile and brought the stick down on my head, sending me into the grasping darkness of unconsciousness.
When I finally regained consciousness, the first thing I felt was the pain from every inch of my body, especially my special place. There had better be no lasting damage. I still had dreams of starting a family, and if James had ruined the most base chance of that, I swore I would do all in my power to reciprocate or even kill him. Bastards like him are the worst, I thought to myself. The second thing I noticed was that my head wasn't lying on the grass. Rather, it seemed to be resting on... legs? I opened my eyes, and saw the tear-stained face of the beautiful angel above me, looking down at me anxiously. When my eyes opened, I heard her heave a huge sigh of relief.
"Oh, thank god and everything holy. I was terrified they had done something truly terrible to you. You are ok, right? Nothing is seriously damaged? And why did you do something so stupid? It was senseless and irresponsible and... and..." she choked back a small sob, "heroic."
A tear fell onto my face. I reached up with one, pained hand, feeling the fire of pain that ignited at my slightest movement. I stroked her pale cheek, feeling the exquisite softness of her skin, the warmth of her flesh and blood pounding underneath. "Why do you cry, beautiful one? Angels shouldn't cry. Angels should be happy. And more importantly, are you ok? You're more important than I am. They didn't hurt you, did they? And where did they go? If they're still here, I'll pick this broken body of mine up to defend you," I said as my arm dropped. The pain, ah, the pain! Near blinding, it was.
She sobbed and shook her head. "They didn't hurt me. I managed to scare them away. Yes, I'm ok. I cry because you were hurt for my sake. And... and... how do you know I'm an angel?" she asked nervously.
"Oh, fair one, 'tis simple, really. Someone as beautiful as you could be nothing else. And anyways," I said with a wry smile, "I saw the white light you descended in. But the real giveaway was the wings. And those, lady, were beautiful."
She started crying again.
I looked at her with concern. I realized my lip was cracked and bleeding.
"You saw my wings? Don't they repulse you, or make you fear?" she asked quietly in between sobs.
