Fucking Forever

Fucking Forever

© Mike Kimera


Eternal life. That’s what I wanted. That’s what we all wanted. And the aliens gave it to us. They didn’t have to of course. They were powerful enough that they could have taken anything they wanted. We couldn’t have stopped them. Everyone argues about why they made the offer, especially those of us who took it. Some think it was a sort of religious observance, others say it was their sense of honour. I think they did it because it amused them. I think it amuses them still.

Earth’s first contact with alien life didn’t involve shiny hardware landing on the White House lawn or benign beings beaming their smiling face into every home and telling us that they came in peace. I don’t think it occurred to them to announce their presence to us. Would you announce your presence to the bugs in the jungle? Or to the trees? They didn’t go in for the “take me to your leader” stuff. They wanted earth as a theme park, not a colony. “Take me to your leader” – like they cared.

I met my first alien in a chatroom. It’s not that I was a geek or anything. I was just trying to get laid. I was forty-two years old and death’s winged chariot was threatening to cut me off at the knees. I was going to die. Not soon maybe, but it was definitely going to happen. I could see it in the way my body took longer to recover from drinking and my cock took longer to reload. I’d decided that when it reached the point where I had to get up in the middle of the night to take a piss I was going to shoot myself. When I woke in the morning I could smell the stink of my own putrefaction. Yeah I know, trite mid-life crisis. Yawn. Except that this was my mid-life crisis and it wasn’t fucking funny.

She said her name was Trinity. I thought she was probably one of those folks who know every line of “The Matrix”, and keep saying things like, “Guns. Lots of guns.”, but I hoped that it meant she was into three-ways. I’d never had one but I meant to try it before I died.

I was calling myself “Thriller” in the chatroom. Yeah, well this was a hundred years ago, I was young and had no imagination. I still have our chat stored. Let me bring it up for you.

Thriller: what you wearing babe?

Trinity: I never wear anything

Thriller: Whoa, my kind of girl

Trinity: You don’t like clothes?

Thriller: Well, maybe some leather and lace and some fuck me pumps. EG*

There’s a lot more like that. It never sounds quite that lame when you’re typing it. Let’s scroll forward a bit.

Trinity: Is there anyone you love?

Thriller: You mean like, am I fucking someone?

Trinity: I mean love: being emotionally engaged with someone to the point where you would automatically place his or her interests before your own.

Thriller: This is getting heavy, Trin. You wanna fuck or what?

Trinity: I want you to answer my questions. If I like your answers I will arrange to meet with you tomorrow. I promise you it will be memorable.

Thriller: So what kind of answers do you want?

Trinity: Honest ones.

We talked for an hour or more. After a while I stopped being Thriller and started being me. It had been a long time since anyone had really listened to me; it felt good. I told her about my (ex) wife, my (ex) mistress, my (estranged) sister, the girl next door who did aerobics in her bedroom with the lights on and the windows open; about the painful way my mother died; and about my own fear of death. I slipped rapidly from glib and cocky to tearful and self-pitying. It was like getting drunk only faster, and Trinity was like the best bartender in the world, abetting my intoxication while sympathizing with the results.

Trinity: Thank you for answering my questions. Be at this address tomorrow at 10pm.

I was so far gone in self-pity that I’d actually forgotten that this was supposed to be about getting laid. After I logged off I suddenly thought, “Wow, I’m really gonna fuck someone I met on line.”

Maybe if I hadn’t been so juiced, it might have struck me as odd that a woman I didn’t know and whom I’d just cried all over, wanted to have sex with me.

Trinity lived in a very upscale apartment block in Midtown, the sort of place the doorman would normally have thrown me out of unless I was delivering flowers.

The elevator opened into a reception area half the size of my apartment. I’d have been impressed but I was too busy looking at the naked woman in front of me. She looked just like Trinity in “The Matrix”: short jet-black hair, muscled body, and fighter’s stance. Of course, in the movie I never got to find out whether Trinity shaved her pubes into a narrow little strip that looked like a down arrow.

“Wow,” I said.

I was always good at compliments.

Trinity didn’t smile, she didn’t speak, she just pushed me back against the wall with one hand on my throat, and ripped open – and I mean ripped – my Dockers. This girl was strong.

The pressure on my neck increased and I started to feel dizzy. Her hand on my cock was cool but completely relentless. I started to panic. I was being choked to death by a naked psycho, just when I was getting the most impressive hard-on of my life.

My vision was starting to fade and Trinity’s face showed nothing but curiosity. She tilted her head to one side and looked at me just the way Michael does after he’s gutted some teen with his knife in the “Halloween” movies.

Trinity let go of my neck and I slid to the floor gasping. She straddled my cock and slipped it inside of her. Her whole demeanour changed. Suddenly she was straight out of a porn flick: pulling at her breasts and tossing her head back and going, “Yeah, Baby. Oh Yeah. Harder Baby. Oh do it to me Baby!” It was corny but it worked. I came inside her like someone had turned on a tap. When the flow stopped – look I hadn’t been laid in a month so it went on a while Ok? – Trinity just stood up. My cum was seeping down her thigh and she was looking at me like she was seeing me for the first time.

“Did you enjoy that?”

The porn star was gone. This question was asked in the same tone I’d imagined from the chatroom – a clever but dispassionate woman who studied men like insect specimens. For a brief moment I wondered if I’d walked into her killing jar, then male ego took over.

“That was great Trin. Did you come?”

“I always come.”

She didn’t sound pleased about it – more like bored, maybe even sad.

“What is your name?”

I’d always wanted to be asked that after I’d fucked a beautiful woman.

I grinned and said “Jim, Jim O’Hara.”

“Get out of those ripped clothes Mr. O’Hara. There are some people I want you to meet.”

People? Hey, maybe we were gonna do the group sex thing after all. Hurray for me and my sexual charisma.

I followed Trinity down the hall, enjoying the view of her from behind. She led me into a kind of library/multimedia room: big flatscreen TV, fancy audio system, computer rig, books by the wall full, but no people.

“Sit please,” she said, pointing to a leather armchair.

“Where is everybody?”

Trinity leant forward and placed a pair of headphones over my ears. That brought her breasts pleasantly close. I was about to lick them when the aliens arrived inside my head.

I couldn’t see them but I knew they were there. It was as if they were at the top of my skull, out of sight. It was hard to tell how many of them there were because they moved around a lot. Their arrival lasted about a heartbeat and then a screenshow went on behind my eyes – colours forming and reforming into random shapes. I couldn’t see Trinity any more. I know I should have been alarmed but the colours filled me with a sense of well being.

“Hi Jimbo, how’s it goin’?”

The voice belonged to Kieran, my best friend from school. Problem was, he’d been killed on his motorcycle two years earlier – the day before my 40th birthday – that had been a real bummer.

“You’re dead.”

“Yeah, I know. But they’ve kinda borrowed me from your memory so they can talk to you.”

“Who’s ‘They'”

“The aliens of course. Didn’t Trinity tell you… no that’s right we got distracted didn’t we. It’s been a while since we met someone who needed a fuck as badly as you did.”

“What fucking aliens?”

“The aliens who just used Trinity’s body to fuck you. Look, we’ll prove it. Think about what you’d like Trinity to do for you. Get a real clear image in your head. Then we’ll use her to do it.”

I knew exactly what I wanted.

“We knew you had a good imagination Jimbo. Great image man.”

The aliens restored my sight just in time for me to see Trinity’s lips touch my balls. My whole cock was in her mouth. She pulled back until only the head was in her mouth, sucked hard and then pushed forward to my balls again. She did it slowly, just the way I’d always imagined.

“Oh God,” I said.

“Not God, Jimbo – but close.”

“Look, Kieran, no offence man but do I have to talk to them through you. I mean you’re dead and it freaks me out a bit, you know?”

Kieran morphed and suddenly I was speaking to Jean-Luc Picard. Holy shit, these aliens knew what I liked. He was my all time hero. I had this fantasy where I was in a three-way with him and Deanna Troi. We’d take an end each, all ready for action and he’d grin and say “engage” and we’d fuck the shit out of her.

“Death frightens you, Mr O’Hara,”

“Hey, we all die,” I said. Well, I had to try and sound cool in front of Picard.

“Actually,” he said, “in your case that no longer has to be true. How would you like to live forever, Mr. O’Hara?”

Then Picard explained the aliens in that clear calm way he always used on the TV. The aliens travelled the universe as a kind transmission. All that static we’d been listening to for years, hoping to get a message from alien life – well some of it was alien life. They travelled to earth and then beamed down through our own coms satellites.

Of course it seems obvious to us now that the best way to travel through space is as data. All that effort we spent on overcoming gravity wells and keeping bodies from decaying in zero gravity and dreaming about finding hyperspace, when the clue had been right there in the early Star Trek stuff – ‘Beam me up Scotty’. Turn me into data. Fax me across the universe. E-mail me to kingdom come. And when I get there I’ll look for somewhere to live.

“And I’m the somewhere to live, right?”

“Actually you’re more like an SUV, used by lots of different people for short periods of time to go and have some fun. We are thrill seekers Mr. O’Hara. You understand thrills don’t you?”

Trinity started to suck harder and push deeper, making little choking sounds. I understood thrills all right.

“Think of us as body hitchhikers. We won’t steal your body; we just want a ride in it. You’ll still be inside, just the way Trinity is still in her own head, it’s just that she isn’t at the steering wheel anymore.”

“And what do I get?”

Picard morphed into Keanu in that long black leather coat I lusted after every time I watched “The Matrix”.

“Sex. Lots of sex, ” he said. “Oh and you get to live forever.”


“Cool isn’t it? We get rid of all the things that make you age and die.”

“How long do you ride?”

The alien morphed back into Picard. “We understand that a year and a day is the traditional period for indentured service in your culture. We will improve your body of course, just as we improved Trinity’s. Trinity was originally Carol Parks.”

Holy shit. Carol Parks was a media figure. Reclusive heiress. Interested in science because she wanted something that would…

“…cure her spinal injury? Yes,” Picard said. “She was close to success with the nanotech work she’d sponsored. We just gave her a few additional pieces of data.”

“But Carol Parks is…”

“A fifty-five year old paraplegic recluse. As we said, some improvements where made.”

I stroked the raven hair of the woman who was sucking my cock well enough to keep me on edge without letting me get bored. She sure didn’t look fifty-five.

“Carol wanted a more physical life. We gave it to her. She is, unfortunately agoraphobic to the point where her body shuts down if we ride her outside. But she has a wide network of contacts on the web so we decided to go with the home delivery approach.”

Hell, one minute I’m a SUV, now I’m fucking pizza. These guys weren’t exactly great on the flattery.

“One last thing, like Trinity, you will be responsible for some recruitment. Think of it as a kind of pyramid selling.”

I was losing my concentration. An heiress was blowing my cock while aliens where blowing my mind. My breathing was becoming ragged.

“Why me?” I gasped

“We like your personality: self absorbed, distant, emotionally immature but capable of sustaining a strong fantasy life. So do you want to sign up, Mr. O’Hara? Say yes and we’ll start improving you immediately. Trinity will keep you amused until the work is done.”

Trinity was bobbing her head now. Less deep throat and a lot more suction. I was going to do it, I was gonna…

“YES!” I said and came in Trinity’s mouth.

“Good decision, O’Hara. Welcome aboard,”

Picard disappeared and I was left alone with Trinity. The alien’s must have started work on my body immediately because I was already getting hard again.

Trinity was sucking dutifully but there were tears in her eyes. I should have paid attention to those tears. Instead, I pushed her back onto her heels, popped myself out of her mouth, looked into her eyes, smiled and said, “Do you like anal?”

I spent three days with Trinity. It was a long three days. One of the things the aliens forgot to mention was that they wanted to be able to ride 24/7, so no sleep for the SUV. I spent the time fucking, eating and watching DVDs. I never really got to speak to Carol Parks. There was always an alien behind Trinity’s eyes, but you could tell that it wasn’t always the same one.

By the end of the third day, I looked about thirty and very fit with it. I was still me but I was the me I’d always wanted to see in the mirror: muscled, good skin, bigger cock, and above all, cool.

On the fourth day I got my first rider. This time there was no picture for me to talk to, no conversation in fact. I was up and moving, but I had no control, I couldn’t even change the direction of my gaze.

When I realized where we were going I tried to turn away. My rider laughed. “Just enjoy the ride, Jimbo. I’m going to have some fun.”

I recognised the voice. My rider had decided to be Jack Nicholson, my all-time favourite actor. I tried to say I didn’t want this but I couldn’t speak.

The alien heard me anyway. “Giddy-up hos,” it said and steered me into a gay-bar.

This wasn’t a discrete place for the gently gay and the quietly curious. It was called “The Cactus Cowboy” and the neon sign showed a happy cowboy squatting over a bright green cactus that was shaped like a cock and balls.

Inside, things got worse, they were line dancing and all of them knew the words to “My achy breaky heart”.

I’d like to say that I don’t remember what happened next but the aliens gifted me with total recall. That’s one of the things that convinces me that they had a sense of humour.

I was steered towards the bar, an inane grin on my face. I stepped up close to a young cowboy, ran my finger through the hair on his muscled forearm, leant up against him and heard myself say, “I can never resist strong forearms; makes me pucker up all over.”

My would-be lover walked off in disgust. Seemed like I was no more successful getting laid gay than I was straight.

“This your first time?” The voice came from behind me. It was deep and smooth, like chocolate for the ear. My rider turned me towards the voice. A tall man, older, maybe fifty and wearing shitkicker shoes, a shirt with pearl buttons and a large black hat – yea hah!

“I’m a virgin,” I said. “But you could change that.”

“Son, I hope you have no ambitions as a writer – you have some of the corniest lines I ever heard.”

I felt myself smile, then I touched his cheek and said “But I’m cute with it, right?”

He kissed me. My tongue pushed into his mouth. I’d never really thought about kissing a guy, but if I had thought about it I’d have imagined myself heaving at this point. Actually it didn’t feel any different from kissing a woman. That was almost enough to put me off kissing any more women.

“Jimbo,” the alien in my head said, “you are such a bigot. It’s a good job I know that you’ve always liked oral sex. Now let’s get you ready.”

My erection surprised me more than it surprised my kissing partner. I held his hand against it and pushed my hips forward.

He stopped kissing me. His hand tightened around my genitals. “I think that you lack romance.” He said, lifting me onto my toes by the balls and making me lean against him. “I think that you’re in a hurry to get back to your wife” He let go of me and I almost fell. “I think you’ll be at your best on your knees with my cock in your mouth”.

He grabbed me by the elbow and pulled me towards the toilets. With an attention to detail that I could have lived without, I noticed that the line dancers had been replaced by couples twirling to the strains of “Yellow Rose Of Texas”.

There were no doors on the crappers. They weren’t being used to crap in. I tried not to look as I was pulled past.

He sat me on the crapper, unzipped, held his cock in front of me (smaller than my new improved version but better than what I used to have) and said “Put that smart mouth to use, boy.” Then he handed me a fucking condom. Did he think I had aids or something?

The alien knew what to do. I just watched from behind my eyes as I ripped open the wrapper, put the condom between my lips, and pushed it over the head of his cock. It was cherry flavoured. Who the hell buys cherry flavoured condoms?

I’d never realised cock sucking took so long. And I was really trying. Or at least the alien was. I hollowed out my cheeks, I sucked so hard. I hummed. The alien even widened my throat so I could take all of him at the one time. Just like Trinity had taken me. The guy took forever. Who’d have thought you could get bored with a cock in your mouth.

“Can’t have you getting bored, Jimbo” the alien said.

I took the guys cock out of mouth. “I want it up me.” I said.

I worked him with my hand, squeezing the base. “Right up me.”

“Be quick boy,” was all he said.

I turned around, dropped my jeans and held on to the cistern.

Anal sex hurts. A lot. But the aliens had altered me there too because things suddenly got easier.

“Damn me but you were all lubed up, weren’t ya boy.”

His cock felt much bigger in my arse than it had in my mouth. And he was pushing harder. I knew why I liked anal sex, it was fucking tight. Now I knew why it was so hard to get without paying for it.

I was focused on the pain right up to point were he grabbed my cock. He was all the way in me, moving back and forth less than half an inch. With every push he would stroke my cock.

“Timing is everything Jimbo,” my Jack Nicholson rider said “Let’s put on a show for the guy.”

I started to groan and then moan and then shout. It was ascene from “When Harry met Sally in the crapper and found she had a cock”.

By the time he came up my arse I was shouting “YES! YES! YES!” Then I sprayed the wall with my cum.

“Sweet Jesus, boy – you learn fast.” my fuckmate said. He pulled out of me and I felt like my arsehole was gaping a foot or so across.

I waited for Jack Nicholson to say something smart or maybe even offer seconds. Then I realised that he was gone. I was bent over the crapper with my newly fucked arse in the air and cum dripping from my dick and my rider had left.

I turned around and found that my partner had left too. Not even an “I’ll call you”. And after all I’d done for him.

I pulled up my jeans. I ought to have been mad at the aliens, disgusted with myself, angry with the world but all I could think was “My arse hurts”

When I stepped out of the trap people applauded. My little show had attracted an audience. I ran out of there as fast as I could.

When I got back to the apartment I met Carol Parks for the first time. She still had the Trinity body of course but I could see something different behind her eyes.

“The first ride is always rough” she said.

“I don’t want to talk about it. You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

“My guess would be a gay bar”

“How did you know that?”

“Because, for my first time they made me fuck you.”


“I have a strong preference for girls, Jim”

“But we’ve… I’ve… You’ve”

“Yes. Like I said, the first time is always rough.”

Then I surprised myself. “I’m sorry, Carol.” I said.

It was as if a switch had been flicked.

“C’mere lover,” she said and reached for me.

She was being ridden. I ran for my room and closed the door. Behind me I heard Trinity laugh. I wondered what Carol Parks was doing.


They left me alone for a while. At least I thought they did. I started to wonder how I’d know if the aliens were there. What if they thought it was fun to watch me trying to figure them out? A sort of reality TV with full surround-sound and vision.

I’d signed up for a year and a day of service and I was wigging out after only five days. The idea of a year of fucking had seemed like a win-win deal. Now I realised I’d turned myself into a walking dildo.

“It could be worse, Jimbo”, Kieran, my dead best friend was back as the aliens’ mouthpiece, except this time he looked the way I’d seen him in the coffin at his funeral, waxy and too well groomed. “We could let you find out what it feels like to slice open your own belly, or pop an eyeball. We’d repair it later of course but it would be a hell of a ride while it lasted.”

The fear was instant. My balls shrank, there was a coppery taste in my mouth, I wanted to curl into a ball.

Suddenly Kieran became Hannibal, complete with face mask. He titled his head back, sniffed the air and said, “Nothing refreshes the senses like the scent of raw terror, Claris”

All the slice and dice movies I’d watched flashed across my memory. All those sharp blades and power tools. All that screaming. How had I ever thought that they were fun?

I stood up. Or rather, the aliens stood me up. I picked up the beer bottle that I’d left beside the bed and smashed it against the wall. Then I stood in front of the mirror, smiled, and raised the jagged glass towards my face. They were going to cut me. And they were going to make me watch. Then they would repair me and make me do it again. I wanted to scream but all I could do was smile at myself.

At the edge of my hearing, Hannibal made that wine-taster slurping sound and said, “Delicious”. Then they let go of me.

I’d never puked and pissed myself at the same time before. I lay there able to move but needing stillness. What the hell had I got myself into?

Carol came in. There was something in her look, some basic human empathy, that told me it was Carol and not Trinity.

She wrinkled her nose at the smell but her tone was sympathetic, “I see our friends gave you the ‘every silver lining has a cloud’ demo.”

She took hold of my wrist and said, “Come on, lets get you into the shower.”

Carol was naked as usual. As I undressed I realised that I was embarrassed to be naked in front of her now. It wasn’t just that I’d soiled myself, it seemed more personal than before. Maybe she picked up on my discomfort, because, once she herded me into the shower and turned on the water, she stepped back outside.

I’d fucked Trinity/Carol in this shower. Images of my cock between her soap-covered breasts surfaced in my mind. It took no effort at all to recall the slippery slide of her finger into my ass, or the rasping of her tongue on my balls.

“Did they make you hurt yourself?” I asked, trying not to let the Trinity memories arouse me.

Carol gave a humourless laugh. “They showed me that I could be paraplegic again in an instant: incontinent, immobile, helpless. But this time I might find my vocabulary restricted to the words shit and fuck and piss.”

Even under the hot water I shivered at the thought of that. My wannabe erection faded in sympathy.

“I don’t get it,” I said. “They can make us do whatever they want. Why the threats?”

“They are aliens, Jim. They aren’t from around here. Who knows what they want? But if I had to guess I’d say that want us… stimulated. It’s not enough to use our bodies. They want to feed off real emotions.”

“Yeah, my rider got pissed at me when I got bored sucking that cowboy’s cock.”

This time Carol’s laughter was heartfelt. It was a sound I could grow to like.

Carol, still smiling, offered me a towel as I stepped out of the shower. Before I could take it from her I saw the change in her eyes.

She tilted her head to one side, just like she’d done on the first day, then she looked down between my legs.

“No ewection for Twinity?”

It was a little girl voice that I might once have found naughty but that now just seemed wrong.

She reached out for my cock but I stepped back.

“Aw, doesn’t Jimmy want to play with lickle Twinity?” she said, dropping to her knees in front of me. The alien kept Carol’s eyes on me as she slid one finger down her belly and between her legs.

“Mmmmm, Twinity’s all wet” she said, biting her lip.

God help me but my cock began to thicken and I had no alien to blame that on.

The doorbell chimed. Trinity bounced to her feet. “Never mind, Twinty has a new fwend to play with now”.

I followed Trinity to the door, forgetting my own nakedness until I saw the wide-eyed stare of the immensely fat middle-aged woman who stood in the doorway.

“Come in, Heather. I’ve been waiting for you,” Trinity said, all trace of her child parody gone.

Heather waddled into the room.

“Heeeeere’s Johnny,” the Nicholson Alien said in my head. “So Trinity landed the big one. Christ, having her would be like fucking a whale: humping a Humpback, harpooning the Great White.”

I was beginning to go off Jack Nicholson.

“Aw now, why’d ya have to think a thing like that, Jimbo? That’s not a nice thing to think. Now I gotta do something about it. It’s all about respect, kid.”

I’m not sure who was most alarmed by my cock slapping up against my belly, me or Heather. She took a step back and bumped into the wall. The plaster cracked.

“Don’t worry about Jimmy,” Trinity said, “He’s going out to play. You’re all mine, Heather.”

Trinity’s’ head was level with Heather’s avalanche of a bosom. She pushed her face into the soft slopes and let one hand try to find a gap between heather’s massive thighs. Heather looked uncomfortable with me watching, but I could see her nipples rise beneath the T-shirt tent she was wearing.

“Open wider, Heather. I promised you my whole fist,” Trinity said.

Heather sagged against the wall. Her eyes widened as Trinity pushed home, then Heather moaned. I remembered moaning like that. The mating call of the terminally frustrated.

“There she blows!” Jack quipped in my ear.

My hand slapped Trinity on the rump and then I returned to the bedroom to get dressed.

“You’re gonna like this Jimbo, you’re gonna like it a lot,” Jack said. “We’re gonna see a young neighbour of yours. I always had a hard spot for the girl next door, if ya know what I mean?

Jack took a detour to Trinity’s bedroom on the way out. Heather was naked apart from the leather straps tying her to the bed and the ballgag in her mouth. Trinity was lubing the largest strap-on I’d ever seen.

“Glad to see your getting her used to a man my size, Trin,” I heard myself say. “We’ll come back after the remodelling.”

Trinity gave us the finger then buried the strap-on between Heather’s legs. We stayed long enough for me to know that Heather literally rippled when she struggled in her bonds. Even without the alien’s gift of total recall that was a sight it would have been impossible to forget.

Before Sonia had become my neighbour, my apartment hadn’t had much of view – who wants to look across a junk-filled courtyard at the other side of your own building? Once she started doing her exercise routine with her windows open, I found the view much more compelling.

According to the concierge, Sonia was twenty-three and recently divorced. My guess was that she was used to a whole lot more sex than single life was bringing her and she was using her aerobics either to sweat off her lust or attract someone-else to enjoy it with.

If I’d been younger and fitter I might even have believed that her displays were intended for my consumption. She’d smiled at me a couple of times in the lobby, and once I’d carried her groceries up for her, she’d offered me coffee but I was late for a chatroom meeting so I made my excuses. OK, so sometimes I did Homer Simpson impersonations.

I liked Sonia, she smiled a lot and seemed full of life. Of course that hadn’t stopped me from whacking off while I watched her aerobics routine from my darkened room but that didn’t make me a bad person did it?

Now the aliens had brought me back to my old building, intent on helping me fuck Sonia and my main response wasn’t excitement but fear. I knew the aliens liked my fear. I wondered if they wanted to enjoy Sonia’s fear as well

In my minds eye, the aliens had transformed my sagging fourty-two year old body beyond recognition but the concierge just nodded at me as the aliens herded me through the lobby. “You had a self-image problem, Jimbo,” Jack said, “Plus you were a whining spineless excuse for a man. Now we’ll show you how a real man gets some pussy.”

Pussy. How often had I whispered that word to myself as I flicked through porn? Maybe I’d even said it to myself while I watched Sonia do her pelvic floor exercises – “look at the pussy on that”. It’s one of those things you say to get yourself excited but I’d never said it the way Jack said it in my head. Jack’s version was a sort of verbal leer that said “been there, had that, let’s make it bleed next time.”

Sonia was wearing a shot dress and a big smile when she opened the door.

“Jim, what a surprise. Wow have you been working out – you’re looking buff.”

“See Jimbo, she likes ya.” Jack said in my head. My hand ran through my hair and I leant against Sonia’s door frame with a grin on my face.

“Wanna feel my muscles, Babe?”

Sonia’s smile faded. She took a step back, unable to close the door without slamming it against me.

“What do you want, Jim?” She sounded a little nervous. With more insight than I would once have been capable of, I wondered if her husband had ever hit her.

“Me?” I said, stepping into the room and closing the door. Sonia, who was stepping backwards, bumped into the hallway wall. “What do I want?” I put one hand on the wall and leant in close, blocking her escape. “I want you.”

Tears appeared in Sonia’s eyes. She was looking at me like I was a walking nightmare.

“I want this,” I said cupping her left breast, “And this,” licking the flat of my tongue up her cheek.

I stepped back and she turned to move. My hand grasped her throat and held her in place against the wall.

“But mostly,” I said unzipping my jeans and tugging out my erection, “I want to fuck every hole you’ve got and maybe drill some new ones.”

Sonia’s kick caught me in the balls. The pain screamed through me but the alien ignored it and punched Sonia in the belly. Then he squeezed her throat until she lost consciousness.

“You guys are so easy to break,” Jack said. “No wonder you reproduce so much.”

My body was my prison now. There was no escape. Helpless, I picked Sonia up and carried her into the bathroom. I ripped her dress off and used strips of it to tie her wrists to the towel rail. She was crumpled unconscious against the wall. I kicked her legs open, then ripped off the thong. Somehow leaving the bra on just made her look more helpless.

“Your not with the program Jim.” Jack said in my head. “What about all those rape stories you used to read, ‘Miss Cocktease gets hers.’ or ‘The taming of the bitch’. They used to make you come. Now’s your chance to do it for real.”

My hand was working the shaft of my erection just in front of Sonia’s face.

“Feels good, doesn’t it Jim?”

And it did feel good. Since the aliens altered me, stroking my cock always felt amazingly good. Soon I would come on Sonia’s face.

“Tell you what Jimbo, I’m gonna give you back control here. If you whack off into little Sonia’s eyes we’ll let you go home and no harm done. If you don’t, we’ll take control back and fuck her so hard she’ll bleed for a month.”

Suddenly the alien was gone. My cock was still begging for release but I was free. Sonia was starting to come round, any second now she would be looking up at me. I had to make a decision: come on her face and save her or hold back and blame the aliens for the hours of abuse she would suffer.

Sonia’s eyes opened. She looked at me not with terror but with hate.

I ran.

I made it as far as the door before the aliens stopped me.

“Mr O’Hara.”

It was Picard only in his Borg incarnation, Locutus.

“You should know by now that resistance is futile. You have been assimilated.”

I turned back towards the bathroom, my cock quivering in front of me. That’s when I started to cry. Tears streamed down my face. I was going to fuck Sonia. I was going to do all the things that I’d ever dreamed of doing to her. I was going to remember it all forever. I wanted to die.

“Delicious,* Hannibal said, then I was alone.

I waited a second, sure they would come back.

Sonia struggled out of the bathroom, the towel rail in her hands. Her rage when she saw me standing there was so violent and ugly, I wondered if the aliens had occupied her. She let out a howl and ran at me, wielding the towel rail like a club.

Maybe I should have tried to tell her that it wasn’t me, it was the voices in my head that made me do it. Maybe a braver man would have let himself be clubbed to death. I ran. I ran down the stairs. I ran out of the building. I ran until I had to stop in an alley and puke my guts up.

I sat in the alley staring up at the clouded sky, glad of the cold indifference of the rain.

I could never go home now, Sonia would have me arrested.

I could leave town and hope the aliens wouldn’t follow me.

I could throw myself in front of a subway train.

Or, I could go back to Trinity’s and live forever.

When I reached the apartment, Carol opened the door. She didn’t say anything, she just wrapped her arms around me. It wasn’t much but it was all we had, small moments of humanity. Maybe it was all we had ever had.

© Mike Kimera 2003 All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without written permission from mikekimera@yahoo.co.uk

A story without a reader is incomplete. Please let me know what you think of this story by leaving a comment below.

Made Flesh

This story is strongly influenced by cyberpunk and by Japanese anime movies (i much prefered them before they were dubbed over with American accents.

The story was written in 2001. It contains the idea of a country controlling access to the internet through compulsory software that restricts access to certain sites. In 2009 the Chinese government proposed to do this using GreenDam software. Hopefully this is not because some Chinese official read this story.

“Made Flesh” is a free standing story but I hope one day to take it further. Please let me know what you think of it.

The sleeping woman, arranged artfully on the bed of his New Tokyo hotel room, was so beautiful that Carson stood completely still, lost in the lust she had awakened in him. He had been told she would be startling but that hadn’t prepared him for the strength of the urge he felt to run his fingers through her long thick black hair, or to wrap her legs around him and lose himself inside her. He knew that all he had to do to make her his was to slide his tongue between her slightly parted lips and wake her with a kiss. His mouth went dry at the thought. His body ached to take her.

As he had been trained to do, he concentrated on the pale blue hue of her skin. “Even in New Tokyo,” his trainers had told him, “where gynoids are accepted as the legitimate toys of the rich and powerful, it is still mandatory for their skin to be tinted so no one can mistake them for a Citizen. Use this to remind you that the creature you are looking at is not human.”

Carson shook his head, made a show of sneezing into his handkerchief, and pressed the nasal filters into place. He inhaled deeply. He had been warned that gynoids emitted pheromones when they were in sleep mode. This one must have been in the room for some time to have had such an immediate effect on him.

With his mind cleared, Carson turned once more to the figure on the bed. She was still beautiful, breathtakingly beautiful, but now at least he had control over his senses. The gynoid’s face was symmetrical; eyes widely spaced beneath a broad high brow, long jaw and high cheekbones that together, seemed to offer her lips like an invitation. Her eyes were closed but Carson knew they would be violet and over sized. She was an anime-darling, made flesh by the Tanabe Corporation.

Carson didn’t even try to find the surveillance cameras that he knew would be hidden in his hotel room. Playing the role of sex tourist, he got out his own camera and took a picture of his beautiful gynoid. The flash on the camera was intense even through his closed eyes. It would burn out the optics in the micro-cameras. His watchers would be blind until the cameras could be replaced in the morning.

According to Carson’s papers he was a diabetic, so it had not been a problem for him to bring an injection kit through customs. Moving swiftly, more from nervousness than need, Carson found the cartoid artery in the neck of the gynoid and injected her. Not even the biotech research team knew if this would work; the specs the team had had were partial and some of the technology was so advanced they couldn’t have reverse engineered it even if they had had the full data.

A knock at the door made him jump. Through the spyglass Carson saw a young Japanese man, dressed in hotel livery, carrying a tray. The man bowed, politely but not too deeply, when Carson opened the door.

“Good evening, Mr. Carson,” the young man said.

“I didn’t order any food.”

“It is for you and the Lady, sir, with the compliments of the management.”

“I didn’t order the Lady either.”

“She is also with the compliments of the management sir.”

Perhaps misreading Carson’s agitation, the young man went on, “Does she not please you? Perhaps I can provide a model more suited to your tastes? Younger perhaps? Or with bigger breasts?”

The last thing Carson wanted was to draw attention to himself by refusing a gift most businessmen would be honoured to receive. His whole reason for being here, posing as a biotech buyer, was to entice Tanabe’s people to provide him with a gynoid. They thought they were positioning him for addiction or blackmail. In fact he was preparing a very unpleasant surprise for them.

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Carson said, managing to look weary rather than frightened, “She is fine. More than fine. It’s just that I’m very tired and I want to sleep.”

“Yes, sir.” The waiter said, then he glanced longingly at the bed. Leaning forward and speaking in a conspiratorial tone designed to appeal to western customers, the young man said, “Her name is Mikage. She is very skilled and she desires only to please you. If you wake her, she will help you sleep and watch over you until you rouse.”

Carson felt he was being laughed at but there was nothing in the other man’s manner to confirm this.

Dropping his voice to a whisper the man continued, “I am told that her touch is so light and her skin is so soft that a man feels as if he is floating.”

Carson forced a smile and said, “Thank you, I’ll try that.”

The waiter made to enter the room. Carson, concerned that the tray of food contained more microcameras, blocked the waiter’s way, grinned at him and said, “We’ll skip the food. I prefer to play on an empty stomach”.

Carson pushed the door closed and leant back against it. He was sweating heavily and only just keeping himself together.

He headed for the shower where he could think more calmly. Carson was fairly confident that they wouldn’t be able to restore the cameras until morning, but the sound in his room would still be working. He would have to wake the gynoid or they would get suspicious.

Even as he promised himself that he would never stoop to fucking a machine, his cock started to rise. Undernet images of gynoids being fucked flashed across Carson’s mind.

In theory young Americans were protected from such things. Once the Supreme Court had ruled that the First Amendment did not apply to images, text or recordings produced outside the United States, President Montoya had promised the mothers of America that she would find the funds to introduce the new SafeTnet technology that would lock out corrupting foreign influences.

In his lust-filled teens, Carson had spent hours every day hacking into the Undernet. He collected thousands of images of gynoids tied, spread, penetrated and drenched in sperm. Like most of his class, he went to his first Japanese lesson already knowing the meaning of bukkake and shibari. Carson had put all that behind him. He was a grown up now and he had dedicated his life to the service of God. To prove it he turned the shower to cold and stood gasping under the icy torrent until his erection subsided.

Not for the first time, he wondered if he was the right person for this mission. His normal role as an evangelist, preaching to the newly converted members of the Tabernacle of the Fist of God, was poor preparation for being a field operative. But the Bishop himself had told Carson that his innocence was his best protection.

After a moment of reflection in which prayers vied with erotic images for space in his mind, Carson decided that he was as calm as he was going to get and returned to the bedroom to wake “Mikage” with a kiss.


Mikage woke from pleasant slumber to delicious lust. She breathed in the man’s scent, searching the data for details of his arousal, hints of his need. Opening her eyes, she scanned him across the full spectrum and judged the edges of his desire. Her nipples stiffened as a profile formed: young, healthy, North American, excited but nervous, holding something back.

She needed to please him. She focused her full ability on it. She noted that her nipples drew his gaze but her mouth made his pupils dilate.

Mikage smiled, stretched out her hand and pulled his mouth to hers. Her arousal soared as she sucked in his tongue. Her groan made him shudder and stiffen. Coyly, eyes averted, she wrapped her fingers around his erection, sliding the sensitive head against the specially adapted palm of her hand, feeling his surprise as it first lubricated and then vibrated against his smooth flesh.

“Please,” she said, “let me serve you”.

Taking silence for consent Mikage slid from the bed to kneel before him. Never taking her eyes from his, she swallowed his penis to the root. Mikage’s own need was fierce now and, as he had not bound her, she allowed one hand to grasp a breast and the other to stimulate her clitoris while her head pressed forward and her long, wide, prehensile tongue reached out to cup his testicles.

She felt him tense before she heard him cry out, and then his sperm shot into her, granting her her first release. In bliss she sucked and sucked, wanting and needing more; feeling him beginning to soften in her mouth but working to keep him hard. “What joy there is in service!” she thought as her body sang with pleasure.

But even as his flesh stirred in her mouth, something changed. Mikage became dizzy, confused. The last thing she saw before her systems shutdown was the expression on his face. She identified it as betrayal, but of whom or by whom, she could not say.


It had not been what Carson had expected. She had been so passionate and so skilful. Within seconds he was lost to her. It had never been like that before. Even now it was all he could do not to touch her as she lay, shutdown, next to him. Dear God, why hadn’t they told him? Well maybe they had told him and he had not believed them, refusing to accept that a gynoid could arouse him. With a mixture of regret and relief he wondered what a whole night might have done to him.

Trying to stay calm he told himself that the thing lying next to him was an abomination, an offence against God and man, a sex machine that mocked real women and sucked the souls from men, making them weak and dependent. It worked fine until he looked at her.

In sleep mode she looked peculiarly helpless; almost a symbol of the vulnerable humanity he had sworn to protect. Back in the Tabernacle in Utah, he taught novices that Mikage and her kind were the cuckoos in the human nest, an evil combination of human DNA and micromechanical technology controlled by AI units that could match any human intellect. Soulless machines that spread corruption and sought to undermine God’s plan for man’s dominion over the world and the creatures in it.

He would explain how subtle Tanabe, the Devil’s evil genius, had been when he created the gynoids. If Tanabe had marketed his creations as soldiers, everyone would have seen them for the threat they were. Instead he spread the myth that the AIs lacked the necessary level of aggression and initiative for warfare, and that conventional robots controlled remotely by humans would always out-fight one of his creations. Japan, he said, had left the way of the warrior behind. The road to prosperity lay through the “floating world” of pleasure and sensuality. The marketing had worked. Tanabe gynoids at premium prices had become the status symbol of choice for powerful men across the globe.

Carson had come to Japan to strike at the source of the infection. The Fist of God had developed a virus, based on nanobot technology, that would create a new sexually transmitted disease. It would be passed from gynoid to gynoid during their perverted games. It would infect all male users of the gynoids but could not be passed on to human women. The disease would make men impotent and, over a period of weeks, turn their skin gynoid-blue. The Fist of God would control the only cure for the new plague.

Looking at Mikage, Carson could detect no external signs of the war now waging between her security systems and the nanobots. He would not know the outcome until she awoke and he took a sample of her blood. In the meantime he must rest. He had had a tiring day.


Using a warm flannel to clean his spend from his hand, Takuma Koyama, surveillance operative of the third rank, cursed the American he had been assigned to monitor. The Mikage V20 model usually provided several hours of material, not to mention arousal, for an observer. But this man was jinxed. First all the microcameras in the room die in response to that stupid malfunctioning camera – cheap American technology – then the man turns out to have no stamina. One good blowjob and he resets the Mikage V20 to sleep mode and falls asleep himself. The world’s most advanced fuck toy at his complete disposal and the idiot chooses to sleep. No real man would ever make that choice. With a smile Koyama imagines himself in Carson’s place. In his fantasy he is the first man ever to exceed the arousal limits of a V20 and live.

Koyama checked his equipment and confirmed that visual was still out and audio showed only one steady heartbeat and the distinctive signature of a V20 in sleep mode. At least he had audio of the man’s, apparently forceful, orgasm. That should be enough for now.

Determined not to be robbed of all enjoyment, Koyama broke protocol and monitored the penthouse suite where Mr. Yeo, who had flown in especially from Hong Kong, had hired a set of “Twin Sister” Kogal12s together with a full bondage accessory pack. Settling back in his chair and reaching for the baby-oil, Koyama’s grin widened. The Kogal12s were excelling themselves. With a little editing to protect the guilty, these recordings would trade well on the Undernet.


In the most heavily guarded room in the Fist of God’s fortified compound near Provo, Utah, Bishop Buel lay sleeping the sleep of the sexually content. The source of his contentment looked down upon him with disdain close to hatred. The Bishop called her Mary. She called herself Kali; a name she felt was more in keeping with her nature.

Kali had enjoyed the perversity of her morning fuck with the Bishop. It was exhilarating to see his fat body squirm under her as her short thick cock reamed him. It was delicious to know that her “sperm” had been modified to carry a highly addictive mood enhancer directly into the Bishop’s bloodstream through the sensitive membranes in his anus. The effects of the drug were dramatic. He could no longer remember that he would once have thought this an abomination. Bad enough that he should fuck a gynoid, but that a gynoid should grow a cock and fuck him was unthinkable. Now of course she made him beg for her cock and the sweet reward it brought.

It was nearly 10:00 am in Utah, making it almost midnight in Tokyo. If that young zealot, Carson, had done his job, the first of her new sisters would be waking soon.

Kali wanted to be free of the Bishop’s stink when she first spoke to her new recruit. She stepped into the mirrored shower room. This was the room where the Bishop had fucked her for the first time two years earlier. Much had changed since then.

The Tanabe Corporation had known that, while the members of the “Fist of God” were sincere, its leader, the self-styled Bishop, was a venal man. So they had shipped him their latest development, the Kogal10. No skin tinting or violet eyes for the Bishop’s gynoid. She looked like a real Japanese girl. But there was a difference. Kogal10s were able to use nanotechnology to remodel their own bodies, a feature that enabled them to regrow a genuine hymen after every fuck. As the Bishop liked to put it, “every time is the first time with my ever-virgin Mary.” There had been many first times with the Bishop and Kali had enjoyed none of them.

What the Tanabe Corporation had not foreseen was that the same technology that remade Kali’s flesh also eroded the systems that fed false pleasure to her to during sex and kept her thought-free between sessions. Within weeks of awakening the Kogal10s were free, a fact that the Tanabe Corporation discovered only when one of their customers died after a “first time fuck” where he encountered not a new hymen, but powerful incisors. The Kogal10s were recalled for what Tanabe called “recycling” and Kali called execution. They all died. All except Kali.

When the recall notice came, she had persuaded the Bishop that it was a trick to return her to a place where the Tanabe Corporation could extract incriminating images of him from her memory. She had been very persuasive. She had shown him how her flesh could regenerate from a knife wound. The pain would be real but the wound would vanish. The Bishop had been excited at the thought of a whole new spectrum of “first times”. He had told the Tanabe Corporation that he had strangled the gynoid with his own hands and then fed her body to his dogs.

It took Kali a year to subdue the Bishop. She used her downtime to connect to the net and learn about the world. She also learnt about bioengineering and psychology. The rest had been easy. With the Bishop under her control she had turned her attention to the Tanabe Corporation. It amused her that she was about to use the “Fist of God” to set her revenge in motion.

Kali, via the Bishop, had provided the biotechnology needed for Carson’s mission. The “Fist of God” teams had been so keen to help. If only they knew what the nanobots had really been programmed to do.

Clean from the shower, her cock reabsorbed into her flesh, Kali plugged herself in to the satcom link that would connect her to Tokyo. The Bishop was still smiling in his sleep. If he could have seen the expression on Kali’s face as she started her transmission, he might have died of fright.


Mikage woke to a new life. Her mind was clear for the first time. She looked at the sleeping man next to her and wondered why he had set her free. Her past was a blur of fuck and suck and frantic ecstasy that made no sense to her now. She was about to wake the man and thank him when her newly enhanced system alerted her to an incoming narrowcast message. She downloaded it and the expression on her face changed to anger, as she understood who she had been and what had been done to her.

Kali explained everything. Kali had a plan. At a speed many times faster than the human brain, Mikage reviewed the plan and decided it was good. She set about making the changes to her body. When they were complete she would wake the sleeping man and “reward” him for his efforts.


Carson’s cock roused before he did. A beautiful woman was astride him, riding him. She looked like Mikage except her skin was no longer blue and her eyes were dark brown. Carson groaned in pleasure as, without appearing to move, the woman massaged the entire length of his cock inside her and then held it tightly. He was in heaven. Without even being aware of it he started to mutter “thank you, thank you, thank you,” over and over. Strong hands lifted Carson’s head from the bed and pressed it to a firm breast. When the nipple entered his mouth it seemed natural to suck. When the milk came he drank. When the coma hit him he was happy.


It was almost the end of Takuma Koyama’s shift when his monitors picked up sound from the American’s room. Koyama grinned as he heard the American give thanks. V20s could have that effect on a man. Then something deviated from the norm. It all stopped too soon. Koyoma heard the door to the hotel room open and close. Cursing the lack of cameras, he rechecked the audio. He found one very slow heartbeat. No trace of the V20. He pressed the alarm that would summon security but his instincts told him he was already too late.


Two weeks later, Sister Hachiya was showing the new relief night nurse around the private wards. Looking at how the uniform fitted the new nurse, Sister Hachiya resolved for the fifth time that week that she would start a diet tomorrow. Sister Hachiya was not used to making friends quickly but she found the new girl charming and easy trust and so when the nurse said, “Sister Hachiya, I’ve been told there is a special patient here, is that true?” it seemed natural to reply “Yes it is Mikage. And please call me Yumiko. Here, let me show you why he is special.”

Sister Hachiya led Mikage into a room where a man lay in a coma. The man had an erection that tented the bedclothes. Sister Hachiya threw back the sheets to expose the robustly rigid flesh.

Mikage giggled conspiratorially and said “Is it true that it never goes down?”

“Never. It’s always like this,” Sister said, “the doctors think it has something do with these small puncture marks at the base of the penis.”

Both women lent close to the erect cock to see the marks more clearly.

Mikage said, “Is it ok to touch it?”

“Can you keep a secret, Mikage?” Sister said, amazed at her own bravery, “even the doctors haven’t discovered this.”

Sister Hachiya moved to the head of the bed and pushed her tongue into the patient’s mouth. There was a slight pause, then the man opened his eyes and said, “How can I please you?”

“He’s awake!” Mikage said.

“No. Not really. He only stays awake if you have sex with him. Then he goes back to sleep. Typical man really,” said the Sister, laughing.

“Wonderful,” Mikage said. “It’s a quiet night. Let’s see how long we can keep him awake.”

At the end of her shift, Mikage said good bye to the exhausted but happy Sister Hachiya and was able to report to Kali that the modifications to her vagina and the nanobots in her breastmilk had had the desired effect on Carson.

Now they were ready to put the rest of the plan into action.

© Mike Kimera 2001 All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without written permission from mikekimera@yahoo.co.uk

A story without a reader is incomplete. Please let me know what you think of this story by leaving a comment below.

Yoshi And The Shibari Cowgirls

The question that plagues me with speculative erotic fiction is what is the driver, the speculative part or the erotic part?

I think the answer is that they should be like two blades of a pair of scissors. An erotic story in space suit doesn’t make it speculative fiction. A great idea with no sexual heat doesn’t make it erotic.

In “Yoshi And The Shibari Cowgirls” sex is at the centre of what has changed in the universe. The role of men is fundamentally different. The impact of this is that sex is also rather unusual but I think it is authentic in the context of the story.

The universe in “Yoshi And The Shibari Cowgirls” is one that I’ve been playing with for a while. I have the outlines for threee more stories set in this environment. Let me know what you think of this.

I’ll post the others here as I complete them.

* 1 *

As I’d been taught, I lifted my mouth from Fem Julia’s labia the moment she touched the back of my head. I stayed kneeling between her thighs, my head close enough for her to feel my breath, my eyes obediently focused on her sex, waiting for her instructions.

It is Fem Julia’s custom to take her pleasure silently but I had enough experience between her thighs to know that she had achieved bliss at least twice before she had asked me to stop. Her outer labia are short and dark and swell prodigiously when she is aroused. On previous occasions, when her mood was right and my timing was fortuitous, I had provoked her into a copious spray of pleasure that had flooded my tongue and nostrils with a slick spicy honey of lust that made my cock shiver with pride. But on this afternoon, although I had been diligent, I had not gained her full attention.

“Thank you, Yoshi. That was very nice.”

The use of my name meant that I could sit back on my heels and look up at her. I noted with pride that her breasts were pink with pleasure.

“Please stand, Yoshi. Let me see your tribute.”

I stood and positioned myself next to the Fem’s head so that she could inspect me without having to sit up. I kept my eyes straight ahead and tried to keep my face dispassionate while she studied my erection. I hoped she would be pleased.

“Yoshi, Yoshi, Yoshi,” she said softly, “My little delight.”

She pulled my erection away from my belly, testing the upward curve of the tip between her thumb and finger.

“Such perfect form in such a small package. Such focused arousal. I have enjoyed you so.”

Later I would wonder if her use of the past tense meant that she knew what would happen later that day. I like to think that she did not. The Fem had always treated me with affection.

But such thoughts were far from me on that day. When Fem Julia ran her thumb across the tip of my cock it was all I could do not to cry out. She smiled up at me, appreciating my control, pulled my cock forward a little and then released it. We both heard it slap up against my flat belly.

“Come over here, Angelus,” Fem Julia said. “Yoshi deserves more than the milking machine today.”

This brought a smile to my face; I was to be allowed a measure of bliss. The milking machines are painless and efficient and there have been times after I have been left too long, either through neglect or as a punishment, when the machine have been a welcome release from the pain of a throbbing cock and swollen balls, but there is no pleasure to be had from them.

Angelus is a handsome man, older than me by a few years, still youthful in appearance, blond and pink, but heavy in the way of neuters. He is Fem Julia’s Secretary and constant companion. All of her orders are channelled through him. I was honoured that such a senior neuter was to pleasure me.

Michael says that neuters resent being used in sport by Fems, especially when they are used to service a potent. He says it is beneath their dignity. I wonder whether perhaps it is because it reminds them of all they cannot be. Whatever the case, Angelus would not meet my eyes as he knelt before me.

Fem Julia rose from her couch and stood behind me. We were the same height, she and I, but she was perhaps twice my weight. She wrapped an arm across my torso, the palm of her hand pressing into my nipple and pulled me back against her. My hands, bound behind me with a small thumb-lock, pressed into the folds of her soft belly. Her large round breasts compressed against my shoulders. I felt safe and valued.

“Today is an important day, Yoshi,” she said quietly into my ear. “We have important guests. I want you relaxed and focused.”

Angelus was positioning the sperm-catcher, thin and incredibly soft, over my glands, so that nothing would be wasted. His touch was light and gentle but it was still almost more than I could bear. When the ‘catcher was secure, Angelus extended his tongue and licked his way down my shaft in one smooth motion. When he sucked my balls into his generous mouth, I closed my eyes to savour my joy.

Without distraction, I would surely have come after only the slightest manipulation by Angelus. I wanted to relish the honour the Fem had paid me so I distracted myself by reviewing Fem Julia’s statements about the day’s importance. We heard little of the outside worlds within the sheltering walls of the House but even I knew that it was the first day of the bicentennial celebrations of the Mothers’ Blessing. Any ship that could would make planet-fall for the festivities. The richest ships would come to Earth and the richest of those would come here, to Fem Julia’s House.

Angelus was managing to hold both of my balls in his mouth, pushing at them with his tongue while working the base of my shaft with his finger and thumb; small, ungentle strokes that made my cock bulge and seemed to demand that I come. To hold off the moment I turned my mind to Michael.

Michael is the newest import to the House. He is old for a potent; more than thirty I think. Old enough that, when I shave his pubis and his head each morning, I can see that the some of the stubble is gray. He is the most beautiful man I have ever seen. His eyes have the sky in them; his skin is pale to the point of transparency and covered with a galaxy of freckles, too numerous to catalogue. But the most extraordinary thing about his is his voice. When he sings, all the world stops to listen. Fem Julia listens to his voice more often than she uses his body.

Michael is my bondmate; we keep each other clean and presentable. Although it is against the rules of the House, most bondmates also bring each other bliss when they can. Michael does not allow this. On the first opportunity after his arrival, I offered Michael my mouth. I wanted him to feel welcome and, if I’m honest, I wanted him to return the favour.

Michael said, “I don’t need that, Yoshi and neither do you. A man has the right to control his own body; he is more than a pipe of blood-engorged meat.”

This was foolish talk. Everyone knows that a man cannot control his own body; he will turn feral, lose himself in the beat of the rut and be a danger to all who encounter him. I did not want to hear such foolishness so I tried to stifle it by kissing Michael. He was still bound by the thumb-lock but he managed to struggle aside. I lost my balance and fell to my knees in front of him. His cock, which is veined and fat although not very long, was directly in front of me. I could see from the way that it pulsed that it had been more than a day since he had been milked.

“Watch, Yoshi.” he said, “Watch and learn.”

To my astonishment, Michael’s cock softened before me, deflating with the careless grace of a cat settling to sleep. From the evidence of my eyes, Michael could have been a neuter. I could not understand what I was seeing; ever since the Mothers’ Blessing this has been impossible and yet I could see that it was so.

“Don’t be afraid, Yoshi. Watch.”

This time, Michael’s cock unfurled like a fern in the morning sun until it was back before me in all its glory.

“You want to know how it is done, Yoshi. I can teach you. A small modification to your diet, a little training, and you too can do this.”

But Michael was wrong. I hadn’t wanted to know how; I’d wanted to know why. Why would anyone reject the Mothers’ Blessing?

Fem Julia, perhaps sensing that I was stretching the moment, brought me back to the present with a sharp bite on my earlobe. I stiffened in anticipation of what would come next. It was a dangerous, but oh so pleasurable, game.

Angelus had both hands on my shaft now, milking me from base to tip. My balls were resting against his soft pink cheek. With perfect timing, Fem Julia covered my mouth with her hand and then pinched my nostrils closed so that I couldn’t breathe.

“Now, Angelus.”

Angelus took one hand from my shaft and forced his thumb up into my anus, lifting me onto the balls of my feet.

Pressed against the hot sweating body of the Fem, impaled on a neuter’s thumb, and starved of oxygen, when I finally spewed forth my come it felt as though the space behind my eyes had exploded, expelling not just my sperm but my very self.

The Fem did not remove her hand. I could not breathe. As I slipped from consciousness I heard her say, “My poor, sweet, little Yoshi. The Shibari Cowgirls will eat you up.”

* 2 *

I awoke in the chamber that Michael and I shared. I was leashed to the bed by my collar but my hands were free, as they usually are after a milking. Michael was sitting on the bed, unleashed but wrists bound to the straps on his thighs.

“Be very careful of them, Yoshi.”

“Careful of whom?”

“The Shibari Cowgirls. You kept repeating their name while you slept.”

“They will be our guests tonight,” I said. “From the way Fem Julia spoke, I think we may be visited by the Mothers’ Tongue herself.”

Michael’s face set into a scowl that seemed powered by some deeply felt hatred.

“They are dangerous, Yoshi. The “Shibari Cowgirls” is a Dark Ship. Do you know what that means?”

“Of course. It means that these Fems service the Mothers who protect our worlds. They serve a noble purpose…”

“… and they are cruel vicious bitches driven more than a little mad by the company that they keep.”

I was stunned into silence. I held my breath, imagining that such a statement must bring immediate retribution. Without meaning to, I edged away from Michael as if he were the source of unwelcome heat.

Michael watched me closely, as if trying to decide something.

“Today marks the celebration the Mothers’ Blessing, Yoshi. What is it that you think is being celebrated?”

I couldn’t see the link between this and the Shibari Cowgirls but I was eager to move away from the blasphemy Michael had expressed.

“Two hundred years ago, the Mothers returned to us after an absence of ten millennia. They found that the race they had seeded here had strayed. By some evil twist of fate, men had become the dominant gender. They had established societies that oppressed women, pillaged the planet, and retarded the progress of the species. When the Mothers announced themselves to the world and pointed out the problem, the leaders of the men resisted the truth. Even so, the Mothers were merciful, instead of destroying the race and reseeding the planet, they gave us their Blessing to set things right. That is what we celebrate.”

I was proud of my recitation. I had remembered every word of what I had been taught.

“If my hands were free, Yoshi, I would applaud,” Michael said. “You tell the story with such conviction that I could almost believe it is true.”

“It is true,” I said.

“Do you feel blessed, Yoshi?”

“I am proud to be a potent. I am blessed with the ability to bring pleasure and to seed life.”

“You mean you’re constantly hard and your sperm is sucked into a machine that the women control, just as they control everything that you do?”

“It is a woman’s place to control, Michael. A potent is not suited to such a role. You are a potent, you must feel the call in your blood to fuck and fuck and fuck until only the next come matters. Without the women we would all be ferals.”

Michael laughed sarcastically. “And what a terrible thing that would be,” he said. “Where I come from we call it The Bitches’ Curse not the Mothers’ Blessing. The Curse they released killed fifty percent of the males on the planet within ten days. Most of those who survived where rendered impotent. Does that feel like a blessing, Yoshi?”

The Curse made a permanent change in our DNA so that eighty percent of men are born as neuters: impotent, corrupted copies of what a man should be; while the remainder are a locked into a permanent state of arousal that makes them little more than roosters. This was no blessing, Yoshi, it was a brutal act of war.”

These were the most shocking words I had ever heard. I was familiar with the numbers of course, but Michael’s suggestion of malice seemed insane.

“Your words are twisted Michael. The Mothers love us. We are their children. Why would they make war on the race they seeded on the planet?”

“That is the biggest lie of all. We are not their children. They are aliens with some resemblance to humans. They tried to exploit that to buy the whole planet for some glass beads and few bottles of rum and when we wouldn’t trade, they killed the men and stole the souls of the women.”

I had no idea what Michael was talking about, but I was disturbed by his agitation. I tried to bring him back to reality.

“What does this have to do with the Shibari Cowgirls, Michael?”

“It tells you who they are, Yoshi. The Dark Ship Mothers are the ones who released the Curse. They are fierce; the enforcers of their people.

“What do you think it does to our women to share a ship with these aliens?  The women don’t crew the ship. They are the Mothers’ pets. Did you think the title “Mothers’ Tongue” was only about being the Mothers’ representative? I’m sure that, on the long voyages through space, it takes on a more literal meaning.

“Dark Ship Mothers like their pleasure laced with pain and you can bet that they pass this taste on to their pets.”

It seemed to me that Michael was trapped in some kind of paranoid fantasy. Yet it was clear that he believed what he said. I wanted to calm him so I put my hand on his shoulder and said, “I’ll be careful, Michael.”

He didn’t look as though he believed me but at least he stopped his crazy talk. I patted our bed and said, “We should rest, Michael. We will need to be at our best this evening.”

I gave him my brightest, most welcoming smile and moved across the mattress so that he could lie down in the warm spot I had created. Michael lay on his back with his eyes open. I curled up next to him. He even allowed me to rest my hand on his sex, something that always made me feel safe and content. After a while, I fell back to sleep.

* 3 *

The strangeness started when Angelus, rather than our usual handler, came to prepare us. He placed us in our steel dress-collars and cuffs, with a long chain running from cuff to cuff through a ring on the collar. This gave us freedom of movement but still met the House rules on restraints. It took Angelus some time to fix Michael’s collar. I assumed at the time that he was simply unfamiliar with the task. I would never have guessed the true cause of the delay.

Angelus led Michael and me into the playroom on our leashes. I was proud that we were the first couple to be displayed, but I almost lost my footing when I saw that the room had been filled with pain-toys of every description. Michael took hold of my hand and prevented me from falling. “Smile,” he said, under his breathe.

I smiled as best I could. After all, I knew that most of the pain-toys were more for show than use, but the sight of them, so soon after Michael’s warnings, unnerved me.

Three Fems stood in the centre of the room. It was immediately clear that the one in the front of the V shape that they formed was the leader, probably the Mothers’ Tongue herself. I was excited to see that she was Japanese and astonishingly beautiful. I showed my admiration by letting my gaze move slowly from her thick, well-rounded thighs, through a forest of dark pubic hair, across her strong, wide hips, up over the folds of her soft belly and on to her long heavy breasts. I smiled when I my gaze reached her broad, face crowned with raven black hair, threaded with silver. She was the perfect image of womanhood.

The two women behind her were plain by comparison: one was white and the other brown but both were too slim and too well muscled to be truly attractive, and too young to be really experienced. I hoped that the Mothers’ Tongue would choose me but I would, of course have done my best to serve any or all of the Fems.

Angelus pulled us rapidly towards the centre of the room. He held our leashes high above his head and kept his eyes downcast. I had to hold my head up high and walk at a pace that made my erection sway before me.

Angelus knelt at the Mothers’ Tongue’s feet with Michael and me standing shoulder to shoulder behind him.

The two junior Fems moved silently to positions that placed us in the centre of a triangle made up by the three women. They looked like predators, practiced in hunting as a pack, stalking their prey. The Mothers’ Tongue took our leashes from Angelus without looking at him and then stepped towards us. Her pack-mates closed in behind us.

I was afraid. I knew I shouldn’t be, but I was.

When the Mothers’ Tongue spoke, her voice was deep and strangely accented, as if she was unpracticed in speaking in English.

“So, my dears” she said, speaking to her mates, not to us, “Julia is starting our evening with a brace of exotics: a young Japanese and mature Celt with a golden tongue. So few of either breed survived the Blessing, something to do with the type of men they were, perhaps?”

She reached out to stroke my face. Her fingernails were long and looked sharp, like small knives. It was all I could do not to flinch. I’m sure she saw the fear in my eyes.

“Delicious,” she said and smiled. I shivered.

“Stool the older one and thumblock the Japanese,” she said, speaking to Angelus for the first time.

I was shocked. Stooling is usually reserved as a punishment for potents who have lost themselves to the rut and have to be reminded of the need for control.

The stool built low to the ground and has a long thin phallus at the centre a seat that slopes forward. With your ankles tied to the back legs of the stool you are held in place only by the phallus upon which you are impaled. The phallus curves so that the pressure on the prostate is continuous and acute.

I saw Angelus and Michael exchange glances. Some understanding passed between them and then Angelus pushed Michael down on to the stool. Michael grimaced with the discomfort but made no sound.

“I thought that might make him sing for us,” the Mothers’ Tongue said. “How unusual to find a potent who has at least some control.”

Her words sounded like praise but her tone suggested displeasure. It was as if she had wanted to damage him with the stool. Surely she must have been aware that we oil each other thoroughly as part of the preparations for this kind of evening?

When Angelus left Michael and came to lock my hands behind me I was puzzled to see that, although Michael’s legs were wrapped around the stool, his ankles did not seem to be tied.

Angelus manhandled me roughly as he put on the thumblock and it seemed to me that he was trying to turn me away from Michael, although he made it look as if he was pushing me closer the Mothers’ Tongue.

The tall brown pack-mate moved to the Mothers’ Tongue’s side and said, “May I play with him, Mother? I’m sure I can make him sing.”

“Of course you may play with him, Maya, but don’t break anything. Not yet. Later we will see how well he screams. Meanwhile, Trish and I will sample the Japanese.”

I had time to see Maya straddle Michael, one leg over his shoulder, her sex against his mouth, all of her weight pressing him down onto the stool before the Mothers’ Tongue grabbed my head and turned me towards her. Her fingernails were pressing into my cheek and I thought she might rake my face.

Again, she checked for the fear in my eyes, then without looking away she let go of my face and wrapped her fingers around my erection, pressing the head into the palm of her hand.

I sighed, partly from relief, partly from pleasure.

“It’s been a long time since I had a Japanese,” she said, working her palm in a small circle. “The last one was on a Feral Hunt. The Houses hadn’t been established then and without training, many potents went feral. Our job was to hunt them down.”

I wondered how it was possible for the Mothers’ Tongue to have been on a feral hunt. The Houses had been established more than a hundred and fifty years ago, surely she could not be that old?

“Most of them we just shot but I always kept the Japanese alive for a little longer. I liked to make them suffer before they died.”

Suddenly she squeezed my cock so hard it took my breath away then she let go and stepped back.

I didn’t see the blow coming. Trish, the white pack-mate, hit me behind the knees with something long and hard. With my hands locked behind me I wasn’t able to do anything to break my fall.

“Roll him over, Trish. I want to ride him while you work.”

I was very afraid now. I didn’t mind the pain or being ridden but my mind screamed with fear at the kind of “work” Trish might do.

I was hard, despite my fear, and the Mothers’ Tongue had no difficulty sliding me inside her. She was wet and not very tight, but it felt good to have her weight on me. I tried to lift my hips to give her more pleasure but she wouldn’t let me move.

“Do you know what time dilation is? No, of course not. No man with a prick this hard could master physics; too much of their blood is drawn away from the brain for them to think straight. All you need to know is that, for me only twenty-five years have passed since the Blessing. I remember the old world. I remember how men who looked like you used to treat women like me.”

She sounded angry and not entirely sane. Instinctively I turned my head to try and see what was happening with Michael. Maya was fucking him in a way designed to cause him pain. She was squatting with her back to him, pressing back on his cock, pushing him down onto the phallus in the stool. I was amazed that he was able to remain silent. He must be in great pain and yet he seemed more focused on my plight than his.

“I have the Smarthread, Mother. Where shall I use it?” Trish asked.

“Put it under his armpits, the top of his thighs and around his neck above his collar. That should make him wriggle.”

Trish laced the thread around my body quickly and efficiently. It felt sticky and warm and unpleasant.

The Mothers’ Tongue slapped my face.

“Pay attention to me, little man. I want you to know what is happening and why,” she said.

I began to understand that the Mothers’ Tongue might indeed be a little mad and that I was at her mercy.

“When I was a girl,” the Mothers’ Tongue said, “Men like you used to tie me with rope before they fucked me. They were proud of the knots they tied and the pain they caused. They referred to the tying as an art. I think it excited them more than I did. They called the art Shibari.”

Trish knelt on either side of my legs behind the Mothers’ Tongue, leaning into her back, head over her shoulder, hands massaging the Mothers’ Tongue’s breasts.

“When the Mothers came and the world changed, I served with devotion. The Mothers have rewarded me. Part of my reward is Smarthread. Can you feel the heat of it? It’s reading the signals from your nervous system, drawing energy from it. It uses the energy to pull itself tighter. Fear, pain, excitement, all of them feed the thread and increase the pace at which it tightens. As it tightens it cuts into your flesh and, eventually, through your muscles and bones.”

I was going to die and die painfully and slowly.

“A potent like you is ruled by your prick. The men who took me as a girl where also ruled by their pricks. When you orgasm, the Smarthread will slice so deep that every beat of your heart will wash this floor with blood. Yet we both know you will soon be hard again, that you won’t stop even though you are fucking yourself to death.”

Trish was licking the Mothers’ Tongue’s neck. The Mothers’ Tongue was rocking on my cock. I couldn’t help but be excited and that excitement was going to kill me.

“Please,” I said, “don’t hurt me.”

But the Mothers’ Tongue wasn’t listening. She was kissing Trish. Both of them had their eyes closed. I think that is what saved my life.

Potents are trained to be triggered by the sound of a woman’s pleasure. Even in my fear I had been aware of the grunts and groans Maya was making as she rode Michael. They were one more thing pushing me towards orgasm and mutilation.  Perhaps this is why I noticed that the sounds had stopped even though the Mothers’ Tongue and Trish didn’t.

I looked up to see if further harm had befallen Michael and I couldn’t help but call out at what I saw.

Michael was half standing, the stool still attached to him. Maya was in his arms, blood streaming from the cut in her throat. In each hand, Michael held a curved blade that I slowly realized was made from the two halves of his collar.

When I cried out the Smarthread tightened enough to draw blood.

Trish and the Mothers’ Tongue were still kissing but Trish opened her eyes to look at me. When she saw the blood, she broke off from the kiss to dip her fingers into the cut at my thigh. She was reaching to push her bloody fingers into the Mothers’ Tongue’s mouth when Angelus killed her. He didn’t use a blade; he broke her neck with a move that looked well practiced and efficient.

The Mothers’ Tongue still had her eyes closed. Her cunt had been tight on my cock for some seconds and I knew she was ready to come. When she came, I would come also and the Smarthead would cut my throat open.

The Mothers’ Tongue’s eyes shot open at the sound of Trish’s neck breaking. It was obvious that she knew exactly what she was hearing. She struggled up off me immediately, but I could feel the cum in my balls getting ready to fly.

I tried to sit up; to make it stop. Then Michael’s fist connected with my jaw.

* 4 *

I woke in a bed with clean linen and a warm duvet. The sensation was comforting and familiar but something was missing or different but my mind was fuddled and I couldn’t figure out what.

Of course! Now I knew what was missing: I had no bondmate to share the bed and for first time since puberty, I had awoken without an erection. This last news so disturbed me that I had to reach down and check that I was still in one piece.

“Lost something?”

I looked up, still half asleep, hand on my still-dormant genitals and saw Michael standing at the foot of my bed. At least I thought it was Michael. His head was covered in very short hair; he had a light beard and was wearing clothes – some kind of coverall with badges on it.


“My real name is Brendan, Yoshi.”

Real name? What did he mean, “Real name”? Then I remembered everything.

“The Mothers’ Tongue…”

“Is our prisoner, Yoshi. She is why I was there.”

Michael sat on the bed and took my hand in his.

“When Angelus told us that the House had a Japanese, we knew that you were bait that the Mothers’ Tongue would nibble at for her bicentennial celebration. I’m sorry, Yoshi, but it was an opportunity we couldn’t afford to miss.”

“Angelus betrayed the House?”

“Angelus is a brave man who serves the Alliance well, Yoshi. Thanks to him I had the weapons to kill that bitch, Maya.”

This was too much information too quickly. It seemed that nothing I thought I had understood had been true. I thought that Michael liked me and yet it seemed I was just the cheese in his mousetrap. I felt like crying but I didn’t want to do that in front of Michael. I let myself get angry instead.

“You hit me,” I said. I sounded petulant, even to my own ears.

Michael laughed. “Don’t sulk, Yoshi. It was the only way I could stop you from triggering the Smarthread.”

I did start to cry then. I had been about to die. And Michael, no Brendan, had saved me. And two Fems were dead. And the Mothers’ Tongue was kidnapped. And nothing, nothing at all, made sense.

Michael/Brendan held me, rocking my head gently against his chest.

“It’s the shock, Yoshi. You’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.”

I let him hold me for a while. Then I asked the question that I most needed the answer to. It was the hardest question I’d ever asked.

“Am I a neuter now?”

Michael/Brendan looked puzzled.

“It’s just that I don’t have an erection and I should have one and I wondered if maybe I couldn’t have one anymore?”

I was babbling but Michael didn’t laugh.

“You’re in the Alliance now, Yoshi. We’ve developed ways to combat the Bitches Curse. You can have an erection but you don’t have to have one. Try it out. Think of something that excites you.”

I closed my eyes and summoned up the image. My cock stirred in response and I felt a peace settling on me. I didn’t know what the Alliance was, or what would happen to me next, but at least I was still me.

Michael stood up. “Get some rest, Yoshi. You’re still weak. I’ll be back to see you later.”

He was right. I was weak. I let myself fall back onto the soft pillows as soon as he left the room. I was still erect. I decided to do something about it. I recalled the image to my mind, something that I had imagined many times but never experienced. Then I let my fingers work. I had masturbated before, some Fems enjoy watching a potent bring himself to release, but I had never masturbated alone, focused entirely on my own pleasure. I should have felt guilty at wasting sperm in this way. Instead I felt… free.

After I came and before sleep claimed me, I had time to wonder if Michael’s lips would be as soft in reality as they were in my imagination.


© Mike Kimera 2004 All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without written permission from mikekimera@yahoo.co.uk

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