The Center: I joined The Center and all I got was This!?
The Center and all characters introduced elsewhere
are Copyright  © Lillith Langtree et all.
All else are belong to me (Copyright  © 2011 Faeriemage)
All Rights Reserved.

"White! The feathers are most definitely not supposed to be white!"

Not a single pink feather in the lot. And they were all supposed to be pink per. . .

Never mind. Right now what was supposed to be didn't matter. The Center was being buried under a mountain of feathers.

"Amanda, are you out there?"

"Yes, Francine. I'm here."

Someone had their arms out questing and ran into my torso. Somehow I knew instinctively when he started groping my breasts who it was, "Jeremy!"

"Sorry."

"That you ran into me, or that I asked you to stop groping me?"

"Yep."

"Men," I said in an exasperated tone, ignoring Francine's rolled eyes.

"Hey, Fred is lost."

"And talking about himself in the third person. Hold Jeremy's hand, then and try to keep up."

If you've never had the opportunity to go trudging through a snowstorm of feathers, then I invite you to give it a try. They get everywhere, and I mean EVERYWHERE. It was one of those moments when I really regretted not wearing underwear, as that would have meant one more layer before the sharp points were sticking me in the girly parts.

Yes, feathers have a sharp point. It's called the quill. And while one or two aren't a problem, and they are more fluff than quill, you get enough of them and you will become a pincushion.

Especially in parts where you really don't want to be poked.

From the way the guys were squirming, I think they had it worse than Francine and I.

I was happy not to be a guy at that moment. I mean the shear torture of it. The pleasure and pain of it. I was never one for S & M you see.

I figured, being the intelligent person I am, that if we head toward where the feathers were deepest, then we'd find the source of the problem.

So, there we were, My hand on Francine's shoulder, Jeremy's hand on my buttocks, and I can only assume Jeremy holding hands with Fred. That is an image I never saw that still makes me giggle. Oh, yaoi.

No, I wasn't in front. Francine was the one who wanted the attention.

And being in front she would be the first one to get it.

We were approaching what I could only assume was the center of the disturbance, which happened to be the Center's infirmary, when I began to hear something cracking.

"Amanda, should we maybe. . ."

Was all that Francine was able to say before a flood of whipped cream burst through the dor in front of us.

"Ugh, Fat Free! You've got to be kidding me! Fat Free Whipped Cream!? That's like 0% Feline Cats or even Military Intelligence."

"You forgot Central Intelligence Agency," Fred said through a mouthful of the stuff I refuse to call whipped cream.

Yeah, I didn't get it either.

So, the wave of semi-liquid foam washed over us, plastering the not pink feathers to our not naked bodies. It would have been soo hot if it wasn't so sticky. . .well and if we were naked

"Look, the infirmary!" Francine said pulling me from my fantasy. Fred and Jeremy were still holding hands after all.

We pushed our way into the room, which is of course where the whipped cream had burst from. and there was a creamed body lying tied to a bed.

Wait, let me try that again.

There was a naked woman tied to a bed and covered in nothing but feathers.

Ok, so there was an emergent at the center of it all. It was The Center after all.

As soon as the groans stopped I moved over to her and said the first thing that popped into my mind upon seeing a woman covered entirely in white. . .

"My name's Luke Skywalker and I'm here to rescue you."

Strangely enough, she gave me the same look as Princess Leia gave to the afore mentioned Luke.

Well, and then she began to scream and more feathers began to appear.

"Jeremy make me deaf."

As soon as the sound stopped I said, "Francine! Talk to her!"

Yeah, I yelled because I couldn't hear myself speak and wanted to make sure I could be heard. As soon as everyone's attention focused on Francine, I walked over to the girl and let her out of her restraints.

She stopped yelling, and in fact began to smile. The feathers and whipped cream faded from sight, and disappeared from our clothing. . .

<(o.o)>
"Amanda, when I asked you to tell me why you allowed a dangerous dominator to escape the center infirmary, I expected the truth and not this. . .fabrication."

"But, Ms. Fine, it is the truth. Just ask Francine! Or Frank. . .I wouldn't trust Jeremy to give his mother the time of day."

"The fact that they tell the same story as you do doesn't mean that it's the truth. I mean, no one else remembers the whipped cream, and how would you know it was fat free."

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And there concludes this story of the Center. I hope you enjoyed it. Tune in sometime in the future when I will bring you The Center: I saw the elephant. . .even though it's toenails were painted red to hide in the strawberry patch.