2 comments/ 13637 views/ 2 favorites Bride of Kong 01 By: Hypoxia Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Or is it? All characters herein are imaginary. Or are they? All events described here are fictitious. Oh, really? All locales described here are real and actual. If you had been to the unnamed places, you would recognize them. But this story is not to be taken seriously. Or is it? All sexual activity depicted here involves human persons at least 18 years old. Really. --01-- (1965) Your eye is a magic camera lens. A scene opens before you, a birds-eye view of a colonial city, a tawdry slum maze in maybe Veracruz or Cartagena or Buenos Aires. Your eye moves toward a nondescript hotel, towards and through a grimy window. The room is not large, and its dirty-white plaster and paint are peeling. One wall bears a calendar of the current year, 1965, topped with a garish color print of a half-naked woman with rather improbable breasts. A crucifix and its torn bloody figure adorn another wall. Battered wood furniture furnishes the room: chifforobe, narrow table and chair, an old steamer trunk with its labels scraped off, a bedstand, a single bed with bedpan underneath. The bedstand holds a clay water jug with a chipped cup over its top, and an open bottle of aguardiente, the cheapest raw rum. A pale man sits on the bed, dressed in worn suit trousers, a shirt that was once white, loose suspenders, a muddy tie. He is old, balding, pudgy, tired. His trousers and boxers pool around his ankles. Kneeling between his spread knees, a cheap not-young prostitute has his flaccid penis in her mouth, gamely working at his arousal. He reaches for the rum bottle, drinks, lies back on the bed, and waits for release. His frayed suit coat hangs on the hard chair next to the table. In the coat pockets are cigarettes, matches, a few bills of the local currency, and his United States passport. Your magic camera eye opens the passport and reads. NAME: Carl Phillip Denham BIRTHDATE: July 14, 1901 BIRTHPLACE: Trenton, NJ OCCUPATION: Impresario Denham is a restless man. A fugitive. After the dramatic events over three decades ago, with the deaths and damage caused by the great beast he had unwittingly released upon New York City, he has been hiding from police and survivors and lawyers and their hirelings. Beauty may have killed the beast, but the beast certainly destroyed Denham's life. All that remains of his life is contained in his trunk: newspaper clippings, posters, photos, a big envelope stuffed with shanks of the great beast's hair, other mementos. Denham is tired of life on the run, tired of everything. He has decided to return stateside as quietly as possible. Nobody will notice if he crosses the border at Nogales. He needs to see the Driscolls. He owes them explanations, and more. Denham finally ejaculates into the prostitute's mouth. He pays her; she wipes her face, and leaves. Dehnam looks abstractly at his room, not really seeing it. The great beast still fills his mind's eye. He shakes himself, stands, packs his loose belongings into the steamer trunk. He rolls the trunk out the door. Your magic eye closes for now. --02-- (1969) Susan Driscoll yawned herself into near-consciousness. She crawled out from the sprawl of sleeping bodies surrounding her and staggered into the commune’s biggest bathroom. She relieved herself and found her way into the shower. An icy drenching snapped her eyes open. Warmer water finally arrived; she soaped her long chestnut hair and lean body, scrubbing away the night’s residues. "Shit," she thought, "I could use a good brainwashing right now, too." She tried to remember how many cocks and cunts she had consumed the night before, and the nights before that, and failed. She did not mind the sex. Sex was just fine and groovy. But jeez, was she the only person here who ever *washed* themselves? The label "dirty hippies" was apparently coined for this crowd. Sue was born in the last days of World War II. She had graduated from Berkeley with a worthless Liberal Arts degree during the "Summer of Love" and had fallen headfirst into the freaky subculture. These last two years had seen her drifting among communes and crashpads and rough campsites. The kaleidoscopic life had been fun for a while, but was rapidly growing old and moldy. "Maybe I should go back home, spend some time straightening out my head and reassessing things," Sue thought. "At least I won’t catch any more lice there." Sue managed to choke-down a communal breakfast of raisin oatmeal and Mormon tea. She loaded her backpack and started thumbing her way home. Eventually, she arrived. ----- Jack Driscoll and Ann Darrow had married and built a life for themselves after their terrifying encounters with the great beast. Jack had quit the transoceanic freighters, settled in the sheltered port of a small fishing village on the Mendocino coast north of San Francisco, and bought a small trawler. Captain Jack's life now was solid, not exciting. He liked it that way. The Driscolls never talked about excitement. Their youngest daughter Susan jumped out from her last ride, a pickup driven by a grubby and grabby lumber mill worker. Sue hiked down from the two-lane coast highway, through the village, to the built-out grey saltbox where she had been raised. She walked across the neighboring yard on the familiar shortcut to her front door. A blond woman in the shingled house's side yard looked up from her laundry-hanging task, dropped her work, and came running. "Sue! Sue! You're back!" Kathy yelled as she embraced and kissed Sue, shoving the pack from her shoulders. Sue hugged and kissed her best friend hungrily in return. Sue and Kathy had grown up in these two houses, inseparable buddies from kindergarten till the day Sue left for university. When they discovered boys, they had also discovered each other. They taught each other about sexual pleasure during their sleepovers. Kathy and Sue both liked hunky boys, too. Kathy, then just 17, married a classmate one week after they graduated high school. Dave Carwell had quickly worked his way up to supervising a lumber crew. Weeks before their first child was born, a drunk driver killed Kathy’s parents. The young Carwells moved from their apartment into the old family home Kathy inherited. Kathy kissed Sue again and looked into her eyes. "Sue, your folks are up in Eureka for a few days while the trawler's engine is overhauled. You *are* going to stay with us till they get back, and don't you dare argue! C'mon in, you look like you need a drink." Kathy linked one arm in Sue's, hoisted the backpack with her other hand, and dragged Sue through her door. "Shower first, drink later," Sue said. "I have lotsa miles to wash off me." "We'll do both," Kathy said. She grabbed a screw-top wine bottle from a shelf and pulled Sue to the bathroom. They stood together under a spray of hot water, sudsing their hair and bodies, rubbing and kissing and laughing, drinking from the wine bottle and spraying sultry shots into each other's mouth. "Now you're coming to bed, no arguments, y'hear? We have at least an hour before the girls are home from school. Dave sure will be glad to see you this evening, too." Their lovemaking soothed and fulfilled Sue much more than the communal orgies she had experienced for so long. And Sue avidly awaited Dave's return. On her previous visits home, he was an active and sensitive participant of her sleepovers. She dreamed of his smiling face, his track-star physique, his long cock. But right now was for Sue and Kathy alone. Their tongues and fingers maneuvered across and into their total landscape, tip-top to toes, to tits, to fingertips, to twats. They 69'd with lazy fervor, slowly drowning in flavor and juice and flesh and lifelong love and hope. They finally rolled apart, gasping. "Oh shit, look at the time, we've gotta clean up and get dressed, the kids'll be here any minute now." The pair of cute tow-headed first- and second-graders broke from their cluster of classmates and ran squealing when they saw Aunty Suzy standing in the doorway with their mom. Sue managed to hold one girl in each arm as they assaulted her. They told Sue that she smelled like Mommy. Sue and Kathy just giggled. Dave arrived after dusk. His sweaty face split into a huge grin when he saw Sue. Dave and Sue hugged and kissed passionately, long and hard. Kathy circled her arms around her best friends and lovers. "Whew, Dave, you sure do stink! And Sue, you've got kids' slobber all over your face and arms. You two better go jump in the shower right now." Sue squatted in the shower. She savored Dave's engorged cock, teased with her tongue, and inhaled the rigid rod as deeply as she could. They shifted. Sue's shoulders slumped against the tiled wall as Dave's groin slammed against her from behind, his balls slapping her tasty flesh, his cock pounding into her love-drenched portal. They shifted again. Sue and Dave passionately held and frenched each other as their grime and fluids and tensions washed away down the drain. They emerged from the bath dried and draped in light robes. Kathy had changed into a similar robe, the Carwells' usual eveningwear. After dinner, two animated young girls swarmed Sue in her easy chair, demanding stories and kisses, and yet more stories. Fatigue eventually triumphed over excitement. Little Nancy and littler Julie were carried to bed. Kathy and Dave snuggled into Sue on the couch. Their arms were loose around each other. "Damn girl, we sure have missed you! Me and Kathy just don't feel whole when you ain't here. We're sure glad you can be with us for a while. So, why are you back here? What's actually happened with you? I know you couldn't talk about it when the kids were up. You been having hard times, or what?" "I feel like I've been royally fucked, and not in a good way. When I left Berkeley, I thought, 'Hey, I'm a grown woman now, I can handle anything.' Fuck that. Here I am, almost twenty-five, and I haven't done piss-all for myself or anyone else. At least I have an idea now of what *doesn't* work for me. So I'm going to stay home for a while, think about possibilities, about how I want to spend my life." "You're staying here for now? Hot damn! I guarantee we'll help you feel good about yourself." "I feel five thousand percent better already today, and it's only uphill from here, guys." "Speaking of uphill, how about we adjourn to the bedroom now? The night's only so long, y’know." They knelt together in the center of the king bed. They kissed with three tongues, hugging and stroking and smoothing their bodies, feeling and fingering the protruding nipples and penis. Sue lay back with her face covered by Kathy's happy vulva as Dave's mouth pleasured her pussy. Dave raised Sue's butt and slowly slid his eager cock into her expectant tunnel. They both sighed as they joined. Kathy fell forward to mouth their juncture and Sue's clit. They began an accelerating rhythm. They fell apart after their orgasms. Dave and Sue bent to worship Kathy's firm full breasts. They sucked gently, steadily. They fingered Kathy's vulva with intertwined digits for two climaxes, then moved down between her legs and continued their oral ministrations. Sue moved even further, licking Dave's neck and nipples and navel. She swallowed his cock again as he ate his wife. Kathy pulled Sue's legs around and planted her face in Sue's crotch. Their daisychain formed a magic ring, a holy circle, a triangle of love, and lust, and loss of ego and id. They were one organism. ----- Over the next few days, Sue felt nearly healed. She and Kathy were again inseparable, acting like two moms for the kids and two wives for Dave. Every day, they joked and laughed and kissed and cooked. Every day, they strained their old one-speed fat-tire bikes with big wire baskets up steep Harbor Road from the cliff-sheltered port to the coastal headlands, and into the nearby lumber-mill town for food and supplies. "I remember that winter I was back from my first term at Berkeley, and I hadn't kept up with my running. I tried to bike up to the highway from here and I just couldn't make it. I called it the fucking G-O-P Hill: Get Off'n Push. I'm glad now that I've stayed in shape as well as I could. And you still look as good as you did in high school, babe." "Yeah, I don't sag much, do I? My tits have grown a couple sizes from nursing the kids, but riding up that G-O-P Hill every day sure tightens my legs and butt and belly pretty well. I have to fight off the new guys in town who don't know I'm Dave's. I hope this continues for the next twenty or thirty years, too." "Baby, you're going to be a beautiful and sexy fuck-hound for about forever. Just stay away from the Cheetos, yeah?" Sue giggled. Kathy kissed her again. Sue kissed back. The outside world faded away again. Sue was having such fun being full-time with the Carwells! She almost hoped her folks would stay away a few more days. But all too soon, they returned home. --03-- (1969) Loading the clothesline must act as a Driscoll magnet. Sue was helping Kathy hang a load of wash when she looked down the road and saw a familiar sight, two walking pea-coated figures with duffels over their shoulders. Sue turned and ran towards them. "Mom! Dad! Hi! Hi!" She fell into their embrace as they dropped their bags. "So you deign to honor us with your presence, do you?" came Captain Jack's gritty rumble. "Hush up, bub. This girl looks like she needs some at-home time," Ann said, holding Sue's shoulders and critically inspecting her. "Mom, Dad, it's so good to see you, to be here. Can I ask a big favor? Can I stay home for a while? I'll be useful, I promise." "Honey, you don't need to ask. This is always your home, always will be. Your mom keeps your room just as it was. And skinny as you look, it sure won't cost much to feed you." His nearly sixty years sat easily on Jack's broad shoulders. His face and hands were weathered by sea and sun, but his strong frame could have belonged to a man thirty years younger. Ann, two years his junior, also showed decades on her face, but still had the svelte body that drove a great beast mad so long ago. "When did you get home, honey? What you been doing?" "I've been staying next door the last few days. Kathy and Dave are always glad to have me. I've just been playing housekeeper with Kathy. But I'll be glad to help in our house now." "You think I need help here? Ha! Even Captain Jack and his buddies stinking of fish guts can't mess up the place more than I can easily handle. But don't worry, we'll find something to keep you busy." The older Driscolls toted their duffels into the house. Ann and Sue opened windows; being closed-up for more than a week on this often-foggy coast left a musty smell. Sue went next door, stuffed her pack with her belongings, and hauled it upstairs to her childhood bedroom. She was surprised to see an old black steamer trunk standing upright in a corner. Ann followed Sue into the room. "I'm sorry about that trunk, dear. We'd had it in the downstairs storage space but we got other stuff and just ran out of room there. If it's too big in here, we can haul it out to the shed, but it'll probably mildew out there." "That's okay, I can just leave my pack on top of it. What is it, anyway?" "Well, let's see, it must have been four years ago. You were in Berkeley. Uncle Carl came by, stayed with us a few days, then said he had to travel some and could he leave it here for safekeeping? We said it would be no problem. But we haven't seen or heard from him since then." Sue loaded her closet and dresser and desk from her pack while her mother chatted about local events. After dinner, the Driscolls lounged in easy chairs and talked. Sue regaled her alert parents with a very carefully edited account of her doings since her last visit. Jack and Ann's expressions barely concealed their thoughts, that they knew she was not telling everything. They had a pretty good idea of what she was censoring. They were relieved that maybe her wild-youth days were coming to a close. Sue felt cozy and comfy in her own bed. She slept well. ----- Days followed days. Sue spent most evenings next door, sometimes not returning to her own bed till after midnight. She spent her days re-familiarizing herself with the fishing village and the nearby lumber town. She found old friends, avoided a couple old enemies, and looked for ways to piece together a future. Fate snuck up on her. Sue was walking down the town's main street, peering in familiar storefronts, when a voice called. "Susan Driscoll! Is that you? Come here, young lady." Sue's old high school English teacher walked up and hugged her. "I heard that you were back home, dear. How did the outside world treat you? Not so well, I should think." "Hi, Mrs McCurdy, yes, reality isn't what it's cracked up to be. Or maybe my bad moves caught up with me." "I've also heard that you might be here for some time. Are you busy? Do you have any plans or prospects?" "Nothing yet. I can't quite see myself as a waitress or store clerk or secretary, or a fisherman's wife." "Let me point you toward a possibility, dear. The county library needs an assistant librarian. It would only be part-time work at first, but Dr Cabrilho will retire soon, and with Mrs Matos taking his place, a full-time librarian position will be open. You always liked working in the school library. This could be a comfortable job for you." "Wow, that sounds like something to look into. Thank you so much, Mrs McCurdy!" "You are an adult now, dear. You are not my student any more. My name is Mary. And if you really want to thank me, just invite me over for dinner some time. I love your mother's cooking, and we can all chat." "Sure thing, Mrs... er, Mary. I'll check with Mom and call you when she gives the okay." "I'll see you soon, Susan. Good luck with the job." They hugged again. Yes, Sue got the job, and loved it. It suited her hard-won temperament. Sue spent her first few weeks as a librarian on a mundane task: reorganizing and cataloging the neglected archives, sifting through musty boxes of clippings and ephemera and dusty notes, putting them into some semblance of accessible order. Sue had once opened Uncle Carl's steamer trunk and saw that it contained mostly folders and envelopes. She had not delved further then. She was curious now. She wondered if the contents might be of some interest. "Mom, do you think it would be okay if I looked through Uncle Carl's stuff, in the trunk?" "He hasn't contacted us for years. Yes, go ahead, just don't lose or damage anything." Sue cleared her bedroom desk. She opened the trunk and leafed through the musty papers. She had a thick notebook of blank lined paper ready to inventory her findings. She immediately noticed a few large thick unmarked envelopes crammed with something compressible. She opened one and found... hair. Great hanks of thick black hair. Hmmm. Okay, so 'hair' went in the inventory ledger. Other large envelopes contained railroad and steamship tickets, relics of over three decades' of travel worldwide. The most recent, a Greyhound ticked from Nogales to the lumber town, was dated 1965, just four years earlier. That must have been Uncle Carl's last visit here, Sue thought. Some folders held brittle newspaper clippings from the 1920s, following Uncle Carl's career as a wildlife photographer and filmmaker and showman. Some large envelopes held film reels, but the age-brittle acetate film stock broke when she touched it. She left the reels alone after that. The next folder shocked her. Was Uncle Carl really responsible for bringing that great beast to New York? Of course she had read about that disaster, noted in the history books along with the Hindenburg explosion and some terrible fires, floods, and sinkings. This was the first time she had read contemporary accounts. Bride of Kong 01 The next folder left her breathless. Literally. For almost a full minute, she could not inhale. Sue nearly passed out. She sat there, stunned, disbelieving her eyes. Sue walked downstairs clutching a few folders. She found her mother in the garden. "Mom, please come inside. I want to show you something." Sue led Ann to the kitchen table. She opened the folders, spread out their contents. "Mom, is this really you? And Dad? And Uncle Carl? Is this real?" Ann signed. "Oh shit. Oops, pardon my language. But I thought this was all forgotten. Oh crap." "Holy fuck, Mom! This is incredible! Does anyone else know about you and Dad and this?" Ann held her daughter's head between her hands. "Sue, listen to me. You must never ever tell ANYBODY about this. Promise me that you won't tell anyone, not your best friends, nobody. I'm really afraid of what could happen to us here. Not just reporters, but maniacs, and treasure-hunters, and... Sue, I wish we could burn that trunk. But we can't. It isn't ours. Uncle Carl may come back for it some day. He trusted us with it. We need your trust too. Please, please promise me -- not a word to any living soul. PROMISE ME! Please..." "Ummm, okay Mom, I promise, I really do. I'll never even look into the trunk again, I promise." Sue kept her promise. She locked the trunk. She locked the secret away in her mind. Over time, she almost forgot the secret. But in her bedroom, she had a hard time masturbating herself to sleep that night. ----- Some weeks later, a man walked into the library. Sue sat at the reference desk, looking up some trivial thing, it does not really matter now. The man walked over to her and said, "Excuse me." Sue stood, looked at him, appraised him. A bit taller than she, a little older, short neat black hair, fit-looking in his neat dark suit. And the most startling electric-blue eyes. "Yes, how may I help you?" "Please, I'm looking for..." some other trivial thing, it also does not matter. He looked more closely at her, appraised her. A bit shorter than his nearly six-foot height, long light brown hair, great figure within her navy skirt suit, toned athletic legs. And engrossing jade-green eyes. Sue answered his inquiry, and looked at him. He thanked her, and looked at her. Time stopped. The few other library patrons froze, motionless. Dust motes hung suspended in frozen light. The wall clock stopped ticking. Silence was total. Their eyes were locked. Time resumed. They both inhaled, spoke at the same time. "Would you..." Their voices collided. They paused. "Yes. Lunch. I'm Susan. Susan Driscoll." "Lunch it is. I'm Alex, Alex Myers." "I can leave in ten minutes. No, hell, I can leave right now. Let's go." One month later, the new librarian married the newly assigned marketing executive. Sue did not tell Alex about her past, her hippie days, her lovers, her family secrets. Alex did not tell Sue about his past, his military service, his lovers, his other secrets. They knew their colleges: Berkeley and Stanford. Otherwise, they started fresh. They knew they were destined. That was enough. The lumber town housed the regional offices of a large natural-resource corporation whose headquarters were in the very same New York skyscraper that the great beast had climbed, and died beneath, so long ago. Alex ran the regional marketing division from here. But for one workweek of every month, Monday morning through Friday evening, Alex was in, or en route to or from, New York City, to confer in person with his corporate masters. The days Alex was gone, Sue resumed her sleepovers with Kathy and Dave. The nights Alex was in New York, he resumed his sleepovers with Mira and Vlad. The nights Alex was home, he and Sue fucked like wee manic weasels in their lavish bedroom, or the hot-tub, or the solarium, or a walk-in closet, or wherever. Every surface of their new home was consecrated by sex. --04-- (1970-1992) Sue and Alex married in 1970. Alex Jr was born in 1973. Linda was born in 1975. Nancy and Julie Carwell loved sitting for their little 'cousins' while three adults consorted and consummated upstairs. Life was wonderful. That ended in 1978. It was a quiet Saturday morning. Sue had taken little Linda to a weekend pediatric clinic for shots. Alex sat at home at the kitchen counter, sorting through the day's mail, with young Alex Jr sitting in his lap. One parcel was a large thick envelope. When Alex opened the parcel, sent by the Unabomber or someone else distraught over forest clear-cutting, the intense explosion killed them both, and ignited the gas line at the nearby stove. The stylish all-wood house burnt like a torch. Your magic camera eye is closed for the funeral and its aftermath. You really do not want to see this. Captain Jack's trawler had been lost in a freak storm the previous year. Sue nominally moved back to her childhood home, a shell now housing just Ann. Sue's sleepovers with Kathy and Dave became nearly constant; they gently healed her losses. Ann was not concerned so long as her daughter was satisfied. And Nancy and Julie dearly loved their little 'sister' Linda and almost forgot poor Alex Jr. The two homes essentially became one household. Sue and toddler Linda soon moved into the Carwell house. Sue Myers became chief librarian, and rebuffed all personal advances. The Carwells were her family now, her mates, her own. Sue still bicycled up fucking G-O-P Hill every day. She had switched to a modern 27-speed BikeE recumbent to make the steep grade a bit easier. Her figure remained trim, lean, athletic. Her long chestnut hair would hardly show traces of grey. Grandma Ann loved being in her long-time home but she did not like being alone there. A plan was hatched. The fishing village and lumber town were attracting increasing numbers of tourists, many from the San Francisco Bay area. The old Driscoll saltbox was transformed into a quaint bed-and-breakfast lodging, CAPTAIN JACK'S B&B. Ann presided and cooked. Kathy managed and cooked. The youngsters Nancy, Julie and Linda assisted and cleaned. Dave handy-manned in his free time. They did well, financially. And the years flew by. --05-- (1993) Linda Myers grew up happy, loved by her Grandma Ann, her Daddy Dave, both moms and both big 'sisters', and all the B&B guests. Linda did well in school. She was class valedictorian when she graduated in 1993, at age eighteen. Linda carefully took lovers in school, boys and girls, often together. She felt normal. Linda sat naked, cross-legged on a blanket spread in a forest clearing overlooking a redwood-studded canyon. Maria and Aaron sat beside her, equally sky-clad, equally sweaty and breathless with partially fulfilled lust. They converged with grasping hands, and kissed again, and groped some more. Linda spread her stretched-out legs and pulled Maria's heart-shaped almond face into her already-soggy cum-filled pussy. Maria spread Linda's sweet labial lips, first with her fingertips, then with her long tongue. Linda gasped, her blue eyes widening. Aaron moved behind Maria's sweet raised butt and slowly eased his resurgent penis into her slippery-smooth sheath. He groaned. "Goddam Maria, you feel great, your pussy is so wet, oh shit..." Maria sucked the spicy fluids from Linda's pulsating pussy. Her athletic tongue moved up and down Linda's sleek slit, around the inviting lips, writing an ancient alphabet across the sexy softness, punctuated by loving thrusts into her secret depths. Maria shakily licked and sucked and provoked Linda's clit. Linda shook and writhed more frantically as the pace of Aaron's thrusts and Maria's tongue-lashing rose. "Oh fuck Maria, just like that. Oh fuck Aaron... oh oh oh..." Maria's hands held Linda's hips tightly, trying to keep her mouth in place as Aaron's curved cock pounded faster, his balls slapping against her skin. Aaron reached his orgasm, shouting, shooting again and again, coating Maria's womb and overflowing. Aaron's cum overwhelmed Maria. She raised her mouth from Linda's pussy and screamed "FUCK! FUCK!" as she climaxed for the third time, the fourth, and yet again. As Aaron's piston slowed, Maria resumed her attack on Linda's clit. Linda twisted her own nipples harshly. "Maria, oh Maria, oh sweet Jesus, oh fuck..." Linda's trembling increased to magnitude nine, shaking and writhing as if demon-possessed. She froze, her back arched, her hands and forearms flat on the ground, gripping the blanket as she groaned dizzily. "Oh shit Maria, that was so fucking awesome! Aaron, fuck me now. Right now!" Maria rolled away. Linda positioned herself closer to Aaron, who took her like a missionary. Maria lowered her sopping-wet vulva onto Linda's eager tongue. Maria and Aaron frenched hungrily. They all moved like ancient magic. They all came again, some more than once. They fell apart, gasping. Even their taut 18-year-old bodies would need some finite time to recover. They huddled cozily together, licking fragrant juices from each other's faces and mouths. They breathed as one. Eventually, the three just cuddled, hands resting lightly on breasts and thighs and penis. They talked quietly. They praised and seduced each other. They did not speak of their likely futures. Linda did not know when or if she would see Aaron or Maria or her other lovers again. The new graduates would go their own ways, some remaining local, others wandering, or traveling to distant schools, possibly not returning home for a season, or a year, or ever. They pulled themselves together, dressed slowly, got in the Jeep, and rolled down the bumpy track toward the coast highway. Linda wondered if Julio and Ilsa would be available when she reached town. She wanted to fuck them good-bye also. ----- Like her mother, Linda chose Berkeley for her university work. Like her mother, she left behind her home and its history, for a time. And like her mother, she returned, and opened a trunkful of secrets. NEXT: Towards 2000, the year everything changed. ----- AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first story with a third-person POV. To keep the chronology straight, I use a timeline of events and people in the story. Here are the vital dates for this first episode. Carl Denham 1901-? Jack Driscoll 1910-77 Ann Darrow 1912- KONG story 1933 Driscoll+Darrow m.1934 D+D children b.1935-45 Alex Myers 1943-78 Sue Driscol l 1945- SD at Berkeley 1963-67 Myers+Driscoll m.1970 M+D children b.1973,75 Linda Myers 1975- main storyline 2000- This story takes place in a universe where the KING KONG films are documentaries. I try to abide by the natural laws and history of that universe. You can judge how well I've done. This is a slightly edited revision of this first chapter. My thanks to monoblanco for editing suggestions. Bride of Kong 02 Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Or is it? All characters herein are imaginary. Or are they? All events described here are fictitious. Oh, really? All locales described here are real and actual. If you had been to the unnamed places, you would recognize them. But this story is not to be taken seriously. Or is it? All sexual activity depicted here involves human persons at least 18 years old. Really. No host-mothers were harmed in writing this story. Not yet, anyway. If you have not read the previous episode, you will not get this one. --06-- (1987) Your eye is a magic camera lens. A scene opens before you, a birds-eye view of a rolling hilly landscape with groves of oak trees, threaded by a four-lane divided highway lined with light industrial parks. You are somewhere in California. Your eye moves toward a nondescript anonymous big-box building, set in a fenced campus of similar big boxes, and through a wall-size mirrored outer window. You are in sparsely-decorated reception area. Low tables and chairs are set against the tinted glass walls that only allow outwards vision. A long receptionist's desk fronts a woven-wood wall bearing a minimalist corporate logo: muGen, where 'mu' is the lowercase letter of the Greek alphabet. A single door penetrates the wall to the left of the reception desk. Your eye passes through that door. The next room is obviously a security cell with a single vault-like door. Your eye penetrates that door also, into a long corridor lined with anonymous steel doors. A larger ironwood door is at the far end of the corridor. The door opens for you. Beyond is a spacious office with a large mostly-clear desk and a few uneasy chairs. The poster-size images on the otherwise bare walls are of biochemical structures: protein molecules, DNA strands, crystal diffraction patterns. Two chairs are occupied by middle-aged white men in light suits. The founder and CEO of muGen, who looks nothing like Dicky Attenborough, is being interviewed by a famous doctor-turned-author of techno-thriller novels and screenplays. An LED display on the desk shows the current date and time: 1987-03-05 14:25:10. Your magic eye passes through the walls and into the adjacent big-box building. Inside are laboratories filled with incompehensible devices, biochemical equipment, racks of computers, enclosed vats and reactors, atomic scanners, all the paraphenalia of modern biomedical research. A conference room is set amongst the laboratory space. The walls are lined with giant computer display screens. One screen indicates the progress of various projects. Your magic eye roughly translates the project and status codes. These include: Ichthyyosaur - 035.3 Trannosaurus - 052.7 Sabre-Tooth - 083.6 Woolly Mammoth - 087.4 Greatest Ape - 001.2 Your eye returns to the office at the end of the corridor in the first building. The interview is over. The CEO who looks nothing like Dicky Attenborough is shouting into a telephone handset. He is very displeased at the progress of one important project. Heads will roll. Again. That project will not show significant progress for many more years. Your magic eye closes for now. --07-- (1994) Chestnut-haired nineteen-year-old Linda Myers felt rather good at the moment. She and her dark wild little roommate Dolores had lured a couple of horny virile varsity baseball jocks to their off-campus Berkeley apartment, on this beautiful clear late-fall Sunday in 1994. Linda felt two engorged black cocks actively engaging her heated nether holes. She reclined on David, whose radioactive prick was fully embedded inside her expanded anus, while Jamal crouched tautly atop her, sheathed in her vagina, pedal to the metal, shiny side up. Dolores squatted easily over Linda's wide mouth and rode her questing tongue with her luscious pussy. They moved together in intricate, primal rhythms. A merry time was had by all, yes indeed. Linda and Dolores normally spent their short weekends this way, although the numbers and genders of their fucktoys varied. They had worked out a proper schedule. Weeknights were for studying, usually, unless some really hot prospects appeared. Short weekends for for fuckfests. On long weekends and longer breaks, Linda happily returned home, making the four-hour drive through the Napa-Sonoma wine country and across the mountains to the Mendocino coast. Linda loved being home regularly. She loved the familiarity, and listening to her Grandma Ann's stories, and helping at the family B&B. She loved hearing Daddy Dave and her two moms fucking upstairs when they thought they were being so quiet. For fifty-year-olds, those ancient farts were still pretty hot, yeah! Linda sometimes spied on them. Their couplings and triplings were so beautiful, so erotic, so many tempos and tones of love, filled with energy and emotion and joy. Sometimes Linda cried as she watched them. And Linda loved sleeping-over with her friends Ilsa and Chris. These two had wandered for a year after graduation, then returned home, to safe jobs in the lumber company offices, in the building named after Linda's father and brother as a memorial. Ilsa and Chris were endless sources of love and comfort. "Linda gal, you ever get tired of the big city, you know you'll always have a place with us here." "I love you both so much! Yeah, my work is there, but my heart is here. I'll always come back to you." Linda missed her two older 'sisters' who now had lives and careers far away. Nancy practiced law in Seattle. Julie designed microchips in Austin. She only saw them on rare holiday reunions. No reunion was on hand this long Thanksgiving weekend, just four days of at-home down time. Besides the comforting sex with her loving friends, Linda decided to focus her efforts on the bed-and-breakfast. This focus led her to the downstairs storage space next to the back porch. In the far corner of that dark hold, she found an old upright steamer trunk. The trunk had remained there, unopened, the sixteen years since her mother Sue last closed it. The packets and folders Sue had last handled were still atop the contents. These files are what Linda opened and read first. And as her mother had been, Linda was shocked to her core. Silver-haired eighty-two-year-old Ann Driscoll was still spry and active. Ann was working in her garden again today. Linda walked up to her carrying the dusty manila packets. "Grandma, please come inside. I want to show you something." Ann looked up from her plant tending, turned pale, and whispered, "Oh shit, not again." Linda was shocked even further. She had never before heard her grandmother curse. "Grandma, is this a put-on or something? Or..." Before Linda could finish her question, Ann collapsed, breathing hard, her jaw clenching. Linda screamed, "Grandma! GRANDMA! Oh fuck, oh fuck, GRANDMA! HELP! HELP!" Linda cradled Ann's still form. Kathy ran from the house to them. Linda yelled, "Mama Kathy, Grandma's hurt! Call an ambulance!" The paramedic unit arrived five minutes later and had Ann in the emergency room at Coast Medical Center just seven minutes after that. Ann was in surgery for five hours. The fatigued surgeon walked through the waiting room door and faced the gathered anxious family. "Mrs Driscoll suffered a severe CVA, a stroke. A blood clot lodged in her brain and caused considerable damage. We repaired what we could, but much of the damage is irreversable. It's unlikely that she will ever walk or talk again. Worst case, she may be totally paralyzed. I'm sorry. You may want to talk to a staff counselor. I must go now. Again, I am so sorry." Linda held her two moms and cried. "Oh shit, oh shit, it's all my fault. I had those old clippings and she just..." Sue squeezed her daughter tightly. "Darling, you couldn't have known. No, it's my fault, not yours. I promised never to let anyone know what was in the trunk. I should have burned everything in it years ago. That goddam beast is going to kill my mother after all." Sue squeezed Linda harder, crying. "We've got to burn that stuff today, right now. Kathy, Dave, go get the incinerator lit. I'm going to see Mom for a while, but I'll be home soon, and I'm going to throw all that trash into the fire myself." And that is just what happened. Dave and Linda hauled the trunk to the back. Sue pulled out every scrap of paper and film and cardboard, and fed them to the flames. Then Dave took an axe to the trunk and broke it into scraps of kindling. Those pieces also went into the incinerator. Soon, only ashes remained. Only ashes -- and one hair-filled envelope that had fallen unnoticed onto the storage room floor and been kicked behind a packing box. Linda came into the storage space again for a final clean-up before returning to Berkeley. And she found the big fat manila envelope full of thick black hair, the envelope marked KONG. Linda felt apprehensive. She was not as freaked-out as she had been just days before, but her guts still twisted slightly. On impulse, she hid the parcel in her overnight bag. She took it back to hers and Dolores' apartment. She worried. ----- Dolores let herself into the shared off-campus apartment that Monday night. She found Linda laying back on the couch, the old envelope in her hands. "Hola chica, how you doing tonight? What you got there?" "Dolly, this is something that's been eating me. I've gotta tell someone. I trust you. I love you. You've gotta promise that this stays between you and me." "Hey, I've never seen you so serious. Of course I promise, baby. What's up?" "We took that 20th Century US History class together. Do you remember the module on the Depression?" "Yeah, well, some of it. That's kinda ancient history now. They didn't even have TV then!" "Do you remember the stuff about King Kong?" "Kong, Kong... oh yeah, that huge ape that fucked New York. Sure I remember. He was after some girl or something, right?" "Dolly, that girl Kong was chasing -- that was my Grandma Ann. And this stuff in the envelope -- it's some of Kong's hair." "No way! You aren't just bullshitting me, are you? Is this for real?" "Way. No shit. For real. For. Fucking. Real. Look, my grandma had a stroke when I was home. She saw me with this envelope and some folders I'd found, and that's what knocked her down and paralyzed her. She'd been hiding this for sixty years. Just seeing this is killing her." "!Hijole! Holy shit! What you going to do with that?" "I dunno Dolly, I dunno. It's, like, real bad news. But it also may be all that's left of Kong. I feel like if I was to burn it, it would be like destroying the last trace of important history. I'm just going to stash it for now, think about it later." "Speaking of later, girl, it's later than you think already. You don't look like you really wanna go party tonight. How about we have a nice night in, just you and me, and some medicinal pot and good Oaxaca mezcal I scored, hey? You could really use the attitude adjustment. And I got this new butterfly buzzer you gotta try. It'll humm your clit into the next time zone!" "Yeah, sounds like a good idea. C'mere baby, I need you to hold me a while." They drank, and smoked, and sucked, and fucked. They carefully pleasured each other's bodies. They fit together so well -- not surprising, given their year of practice. ----- Dolores was a great friend. But she also tended to talk, especially when stoned and/or well-fucked. The next evening at a friend's Berkeley flat found her in both conditions. Dolores was fully occupied with a tall tanned muscular blond man and his pale shorter red-headed fuckmate. They had puffed some mind-blowing Afghan green, and pulled themselves into the usual erotic contortions, and more. Brown and red pubic bushes intermixed, their owners' shapely legs scissored together, grinding vulvas. Glen stood at the bedside, Dolly's head hanging below him, easing her deep-throating of his long cock. He came scorchingly. Dolores swallowed every steaming ounce of hot jiz. Patty's pubes ground against Dolly's. They came gloriously. Dolores moved beside Patty. Glen crawled to Patty's other side. They lowered their mouths to her breasts, kissing around the great mounds, licking the firm points. Glen slid down to feast on Dolly's tits, then her navel, then her cunt, as Dolores did the same for Patty. Patty pulled Glen's legs around and swallowed his hardening cock. They ate each other languidly, easily. Glen spurted his last cum for a few hours. They fell apart, moaning, sweating, glowing. They cuddled. They chatted. And Dolores spilled the secret. "Wow guys, that was great! Pass me the Gatorade, would ya? I'm dehydrating as we speak," Dolores gasped. "Hey, you want to get together again tomorrow night? We can get here earlier, so we can fuck longer." "Sorry no, I gotta get back with my girlfriend tomorrow, she's having a rough patch, we gotta talk." "So what's the problem? Somebody dump on her?" Patty asked. "No, nothing like that, it's something personal from her past. You ever see the History Channel show about that King Kong shit from, like, sixty years ago? Well, it was real, and her family was involved, and now she's got this pile of Kong's hair. And she doesn't know what to do with it, it's been bad news for her family, she doesn't know whether to burn it or keep it, but it's like historical, y'know?" "Wow, rad stuff! She ever think of donating it to a museum or lab or something?" "Like I said, we're gonna talk about it, about what she could do with it. She's got this envelope marked KONG, it's full of hair, and it's killing her grandma or something. She feels guilty about it." "Well, here's something *I* don't feel guilty about. Spread your legs, Dolores. I have a treat for you." Their conversation, and their attention, headed into different territory then. Ape hair was forgotten as they concentrated on mixing their own fur together sensuously. The women 69'd luxuriently, lasciviously. Glen moved from pussy to pussy, from mouth to mouth, filling every hole in turn, and returned. Glen grunted like a mule when he came hard. The women were more into muffled screaming. The bedsheets became soaked and soggy. Again. Glen and Patty were trained codemonkeys who had graduated the year before. They didn't work for a software house. Their employer was a biotech firm: muGen. Glen knew of muGen's high-priority Greatest Ape project. He had some very frustrated friends working on it. Many years with zero progress -- yet they persevered, because they were ordered too. Top management desperately wanted results. Glen chatted with a Great Ape team member. He mentioned being told of Kong's hair. The member told her team leader. The team leader told his manager. The manager told her division president. Movement occured. A man and woman, both looking very fit in their tidy suits, came to Glen's cubicle. Their muGen ID badges didn't reveal they were in corporate security. They calmly interviewed Glen. He told them all of Dolores' story. They thanked him and left. Glen returned to his keyboard, to his own work, dismissing the visit. A few nights later, Linda was sleeping-over with Nikki (and Dolores and Tanaka and Kim). Burglars snuck into Dolores and Linda's apartment. They made no mess. They found and took only the envelope marked KONG. ----- A month has passed. Your magic eye returns to the muGen conference room. You again see the screen showing the progress of various projects. Your magic eye roughly translates the updated project and status codes. These include: Ichtyosaur - 072.5 Trannosaurus - 089.4 Sabre-Tooth - 100.0 Woolly Mammoth - 100.0 Greatest Ape - 091.3 Your eye intrudes again in the large spare office behind the ironwood door. The desk LED shows the current date and time: 1994-04-07 10:35:20. The CEO who never looked anything like Dicky Attenborough is talking quietly into his cellphone. He is not happy yet. Your magic eye closes again. --08-- (1997-2000) Linda graduated UC Berkeley in 1997 with a BSEE / Computer Science degree. She was quickly hired by a chic San Francisco software house and paid an unbelievable salary to engineer nifty database features. Linda was about in codemonkey heaven. She had a killer job, all the computing horsepower she could handle, a good North Beach hillside apartment with a hot tub and a great view, a lively new circle of sexually ourtageous friends plus a few old favorites, and now only a three-hour drive to the Mendocino coast. Linda usually spent one weekend a month at her old home coastal home. She always felt refreshed by her family's love. Grandma Ann had died in 1995, her eyes bright, but silent and immobile. Mama Sue still presided over the county library. Daddy Dave had retired from the lumber company. He and Mama Kathy ran CAPTAIN JACK'S B&B full-time now. They hosted many of Linda's co-workers on their weekend and vacation getaways from the Bay Area. Linda's company grew tremendously, as did her stock options. The dot-com bubble would not burst for a few more years. The feared Y2K bug had profitably fizzled. Life was good -- and Linda still helped out at the B&B when she could. After the stresses of software development and debugging, physical work was relaxing. Linda rolled her newish Porsche up to CAPTAIN JACK'S B&B one Friday night in late spring 2000. Early the next morning, she was back in the downstairs storage space, clearing out yet more old boxes, her long chestnut hair tied back in a clean ponytail. She found no more spillings from the old steamer trunk. She was vastly relieved. She drove back home thinking of work challenges, not old tragedy. Linda's old Berkeley roommate Dolores worked in a nearby programming shop and lived on Russian Hill. They were still great friends, still playful lovers. They enjoyed frequent sleepovers, sometimes with pale little red-headed Patty, their fuckbuddy from muGen. Patty's ex-guy Glen had moved on, long gone and almost forgotten. This evening, Linda and Patty were linked together by a large red double-ended dildo sliding in and out of their throbbing wet tunnels. Dark little Dolores bent over their intersection, sucking and fingering their clits alternately, while they each tortured their own abused nipples. They groaned continuously. Linda and Patty were trying to extend their pleasures as long as possible. Dolly's fervant goal was to make them cum screaming as soon as possible. These were the game rules: whoever came loudly first, had to give up her end of the dildo to Dolores. The sooner Dolly reduced one of her lovers to mindless ecstasy, the sooner her chance for the same. "Oh shit Patty, I'm going to lose it!" "Go right ahead, I can take it some more, ooh, ooh..." Linda lost -- if screaming like a demented banshee whilst melting down into a well-fucked sexual puddle can be considered a loss. Dolores pulled Linda's end of the dildo from a much-abused cunt and plugged herself in immediately. Linda groggily crawled over and fingered Dolly's clit. "You'll get yours, damn you!" Patty lasted a few minutes longer. By then, Dolores had worked up to her steady pumping rhythm. When Patty screamed, Dolores didn't stop, but just kept one moving the dildo in and out relentlessly. Patty screamed for some minutes. Dolly grinned, and worked towards her own well-deserved explosive climax. Pow! Linda's rich collection of classic lithos by MC Escher and Scott Kim and Rob Tinney stared down from the room walls, surveying the frantic female tripling below them. The action got messy sometimes. Is that bad? The fun continued throughout the night. --09-- (2000) Bride of Kong 02 The CEO who never looked anything like Dicky Attenborough sat in his office with the director of the Great Ape project and two other suited figures, a man and a woman. All had flown in unobtrusively for this in-person briefing; the CEO did not trust the security of his teleconferencing links. The desk LED displayed date and time: 2000-05-13 10:05:10. "Douglas, I know the details, but please give Mr Brown and Ms Smith an overview of the project. Your project status had been frozen at around 95% for the last year. Tell us what's going on." "Yessir. We made great progress after obtaining that large sample of ape hair a few years ago. We'd previously had only a few strands, not enough for a complete DNA sequencing. Once we had the DNA, we easily fertilized and implanted embryos in gorilla host-mothers. We also created hybrids, human-ape chimerae, that successfully grew in human host-mothers. With our in-vitrio and post-partum growth accelerators, we obtained breeding-age males last year. "So far, so good. Our problem now is behavioral, not strictly biological, although genetic factors are involved. We have a small population of post-adolescent male giant apes residing on our island compound in the Sea of Cortez. We expect these to reach the size of the original Kong in a few more years of carefully accelerated growth. "We also have a small population of human-ape hybrids of about the same stature as homo sapiens but with more body hair. We have raised the hybrids to live as and with normal humans. Yes, their education is accelerated, too. They all speak basic English and Spanish, can handle basic arithmetic and logic, and possess some tool-using skills. They could almost blend into certain human societies. "The 'pure' apes are all male, of course. We can't create females by cloning when the source DNA is all male. We *can* adjust growth factors, to control their size. The hybrids are different, more malleable. Our hybrid population includes about equal numbers of males and females, all post-adolescent. They should all be entering their prime reproductive years now. "The problem is that none are interested in reproducing. The male ape clones won't approach any female primates of any species we have tried, and they don't approach each other for sex either. Same with the hybrids -- they seem healthy enough, but they just aren't interested. Nothing seems to turn them on. They aren't gay, they aren't straight; they act like neuters. "We strongly suspect the problem results from a pheromone mismatch. In animals, both invertebrates and vertebrates, sexual activity is triggered by pheromone emission and reception. Mating doesn't occur unless the subjects 'smell' right to each other. We strongly suspect that our clones and hybrids just don't smell right, and no other primates smell right to them, either. "Another muGen team has been harvesting pheromones from primates for years. These include humans. The harvest process is simple. Obtained samples of sweat and hair are sufficient -- the sweat for the pheromones, and the hair for DNA ID tagging. We also record the identies of the human subjects. "We have exposed our clones and hybrids to our entire library of primate pheromones. None provokes any response -- except one that was NOT collected in our usual way. "When we were given the packet of ape hair, we found human hairs on the outside of the packet. We successfully cloned the DNA in that hair to an embryo, and obtained its pheromones. ALL -- I repeat, ALL -- our clones and hybrids show a slight but noticeable sexual response when exposed to those samples. "We only observed these responses in the last week. We are now trying to grow human clones from the DNA in those few human hairs. We expect to have females of breeding age available in another six years. Our task would be much easier if we had access to the woman who supplied those hairs. "And that's where we are now. We can see the light at the end of the tunnel, but we don't know the tunnel's length." The CEO thanked and dismissed Douglas. He turned to his consultants. "Well, what do you think?" 'Brown' and 'Smith' (not their real names) whispered to each other. Ms 'Smith' looked at the CEO. "If the story obtained by your investigators is right, the only people in thirty-five years to touch that packet are from a single genetic line. Those are Ann Darrow-Driscoll, who is now dead; her daughter Susan Driscoll-Myers, now age fifty-five; and Susan's daughter Linda Myers, now twenty-five, prime breeding age. "We recommend that your DNA-and-pheromone sampling team pursue those women. Ann Driscoll was buried, not cremated; a sample can be obtained from her remains. Susan Myers bicycles to work; your team should be able to collect samples just as she arrives at her offices. Linda Myers should be easily approachable with sexual lures. If necessary, Linda could be abducted. Her disappearance would disrupt the social matrix much less than if her mother vanished." "I concur," the CEO said. "I'll set the wheels in motion." Nobody on the Mendocino coast noticed the grave-robbers. A long probe easily penetrated Ann Driscoll's coffin and extracted some bone and tissue fragments. Grandma Ann's remains felt no pain. Susan Myers certainly *did* notice the man who groped her when she arrived at work, but he ran off before she could get a good look at him. She was almost flattered to receive such attention at her age. And Linda Myers didn't really notice the guy who did a hands-on bump-and-grind when she danced sweatily at her favorite noisy club. Well, she did notice his clever touches, enough to be wound up even tighter when hot little Dolores ground her hungry crotch into Linda's beautiful butt. They had a spectacular night with Patty and Gary and Jan. Linda's life changed forever a few days later. NEXT: Not cybersex, not teledildonics, not bestiality, but something totally new! ----- AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first story with a third-person POV. To keep the chronology straight, I use a timeline of events and people in the story. Here are the vital dates for this second episode. Jack Driscoll 1910-77 Ann Darrow 1912-95 KONG story 1933 Driscoll+Darrow m.1934 Alex Myers 1943-78 Sue Driscoll 1945- Myers+Driscoll m.1970 Linda Myers 1975- LM at Berkeley 1993-97 LM break-in 1994 main storyline 2000- This story takes place in a universe where the KING KONG and JURASSIC PARK films are documentaries. I try to abide by the natural laws of that universe. You can judge how well I've done. This is a slightly edited revision of this second chapter. My thanks to monoblanco for editing suggestions. Bride of Kong 03 Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Or is it? All characters herein are imaginary. Or are they? All events described here are fictitious. Oh, really? All locales described here are real and actual. If you had been to the unnamed places, you would recognize them. But this story is not to be taken seriously. Or is it? All sexual activity depicted here involves more-or-less human persons at least 18 years old. Really. Some host-mothers were only slightly harmed in writing this story. Pray for them. This is the corrected chapter three. If you have not read the previous episodes, you will not get this one. --10-- (2000) Linda Myers awoke in a strange bed in a strange room. It was not as if this had never happened before. Random awakenings were not exactly rare occurrences in her life. But this was much stranger than the old revolving bedroom scene she was used to. The room looked like a whitewashed adobe monk's cell, without religious symbols or icons. Just bare walls, minimal furniture, the narrow bed, a narrow wood door with no knob, and a translucent glass-brick window. The other circumstances were stranger. She was alone. She was not naked, nor hungover. She felt thin cotton pajamas on her slim twenty-five-year-old body. Her chestnut-topped head swung around, her eyes taking in her surroundings. Before she could sit up, the wooden door opened, a small dark woman wearing white Mexican peasant garb put a covered tray on the thin wooden table, then dashed back out, closing the bare door. It clicked behind her. "Hey!" Linda yelled at the closed door. Then she muttered loudly, "Yeah, hey, well... oh damn." Linda pulled off the bed covers and sat up, feet on the floor. She found herself dressed in loose light blue pajamas, white socks, and a silver chain around her neck, nothing more. No bra or panties. No rings or studs -- her piercing ornaments were gone. The silver chain seemed to be inscribed with faint digital tracings. For tracking? Linda stood, stepped to the door, maybe of heavy oak or ironwood, and gave it a tentative push. It did not move. Would pounding on it be futile? She felt her panic level rising. She forced herself to control the panic, to re-focus it into anger and strength. She clenched all her muscles. "HEY SHIT-HEADS, OPEN THE MOTHERFUCKING DOOR!!" she bellowed, kicking and slamming against the door. The thick door was solid, and firmly attached; her efforts didn't yield much sound. She pounded and yelled for more minutes than she could count. She finally slumped to the floor, panting, sweating, almost crying. Linda huddled into herself but kept from rolling into a fetal ball. She felt washed-over with panic-driven stress. After another unmeasured time, she pulled herself together, slowed her gasping breaths, and chanted her Zen mantra to calm herself down. She stood when she felt her pulse rate approaching normal. Linda walked to the table. Next to the covered tray was a two-liter glass water bottle with a metal cup over its top, and two small folded towels. She pulled the cloth cover from the tray, revealing a cup of coffee, a tumbler of orange juice, a bowl of granola, a plastic spoon, and a small carton generically labeled MILK - LECHE in block letters. "I'm a fucking prisoner," she thought, "and this may be my last meal. Fucking granola! What a bummer." Linda sighed. She sat in the stiff cane chair and breakfasted without pleasure. Her mind swirled. She tried to work out just what situation she was in, how she got there, and how she could get out. What had happened to her? Was she at a party last night? She never missed her Friday get-togethers with friends and lovers and fuckmates. Why could she not remember it? She remembered getting off work, and then... nothing, just waking up here. Wherever 'here' was -- she had no idea of her location. How and why was she here? What were her options? Linda was a logical person. Shit, she was a fucking software engineer! She could navigate complex logic mazes better and easier than most people count their pocket change. But truth tables and structured hierarchies and object-oriented models weren't of much use now. She just did not have data to work on. Linda felt inevitable pressure on her bladder. What to do? She looked around the room, looked under the bed, and found a bedpan and a bucket. "Oh, this is just fucking great. I *don't* even want to think about shitting," she thought. Linda sat on the bed. She sighed again, suppressing her rage and fear and frustration. She was reaching for the bedpan when the door opened. A tall slender woman in sports shoes and a long yellow dress stood in the doorway, short hair a little lighter than Linda's chestnut tresses, deep blue eyes regarding her. "Good morning, Miss Myers. We have better toilet facilities available. Please come with me." The woman turned and walked down a whitewashed hallway. Linda padded after her. "Hey, wait, what the fuck is going on here, why am I...?" The woman, maybe ten or fifteen years older than Linda, held up a hand. "Just wait a bit and all your questions will be answered. I am Lorraine. Here is your bathroom." Lorraine indicated an open door. Linda somehow choked-off her anger and shrugged tightly. She went inside and closed the door. She saw an ordinary-looking sink, toilet, and shower. A thin white robe hung from the wall, with a pair of soft white slippers on the floor. Linda peed, washed, donned the robe and slippers, and returned to the hallway. "Come this way," Lorraine said, leading her down the hall and into the middle of a cavernous room. Large-mesh wire screens divided the room into thirds. On the left side were a half-dozen *large* apes, downsized Kongs. On the other side were a dozen people dressed in Mexican peasant whites, half men, half women, all seeming... not quite right. The apes and the people all looked at Linda with interest. They all started moving towards the screens. They all seemed to be drooling slightly. Linda stood stock-still in shock. What the fuck? Lorraine grabbed her wrist and tugged her back into the hallway, closing a door behind them. She heard grunts and muffled voices beyond the door. "We just needed to see if you had the same effect awake as you did asleep. Now follow me and learn." Lorraine led the silent and dazed Linda to a plain sitting room containing a few pieces of upholstered furniture and a low table. Lorraine gestured to one chair and sat in another. Linda stood, crossed her arms below her breasts, and growled. "Who the fuck are you, where the fuck am I, what the fuck am I doing here, and why the fuck have you kidnapped me, dipshit?" "I told you my name. We are on an island off the Mexican coast. And you are here because you are special," Lorraine responded calmly. "People who tell me I'm special usually bring me flowers or candy or XBox games or something. They don't fucking KIDNAP me! What is this shit?" "Miss Myers, I'll give you the short version. You are special because you are Ann Darrow's granddaughter. You have her DNA. The Darrow line is genetically unique. Your body chemistry is unique. You, your mother, her late sisters and mother, are the only known people who produce certain specific hormones, of a type called pheromones. "Pheromones stimulate physiological and behavioral responses in beings of the same or similar species. Pheromones are like scents, but more so, because they trigger vivid reactions deep within the receiver's body. Pheromones extend beyond the body's usual [b]aura[/b], the thin invisible cloud of chemicals and microbes that surround a body. In open air, pheromones can be sensed even many miles away." "And just what the fuck do my DNA and pheromones mean to you? And to me? And to whoever kidnapped me?" "You know a little something about your family history. You know your grandmother was pursued by Kong. Your grandmother was the only person Kong would respond to sexually. Her pheromones drove his reactions. My employers have produced a number of clones and hybrids of Kong. I just rough-tested you with some of them. They respond to you, and only to you, whether you are asleep or awake. And no other known primates respond to your family's pheromones." Linda worked to absorb all this. Biologically unique? What the fuck! Loraine continued, "My employers are trying to develop others with your DNA, to grow breeding populations of these clones and hybrids. You, my dear, have a large place in future human history. You could be one of the most important humans who ever lived." "Wait, clones and... hybrids?" Linda's mental gears spun and smoked as she feverishly attempted to process Lorraine's words. "Those people?" "The hybrids are products of our research program. They are mostly human, more human than any natural primates. They carry enough Kong DNA to have Kong's strength and endurance but not his size or intractable violent temperament. In many parts of the world, they would easily fit into human communities. And before you ask, I'll just say that my employers believe they can profit from producing Kong hybrids and clones." "Holy shit! Super strength? Docility? Are you trying to breed perfect slave laborers?" "No, my employers have other applications in mind. I can't discuss those now. Nor can I tell you who my employers are. But I must tell you -- it will be some years at least before others with your DNA are mature and ready. My dear, YOU and you alone will be the mother of a new race!" Linda jumped up and shouted, "What, you're going to pimp me out to a bunch of monsters? Fuck that..." just as two large men grabbed her from behind, stuffed a gag in her mouth, and carried her back to her cell. They forced her inside and closed the bare door. Linda pulled out the gag and screamed. "That will do you no good, lady," said a soft voice behind her. Linda whirled. From a corner of the cell stepped the small dark woman who had brought her breakfast tray. The woman held up her hands. "Please, calm down. Sit, please. We can talk. My name is Nona." Linda collapsed on the bed. "What the fuck has happened to me?" Nona sat beside Linda, put her arms around her, held her close. "Please lady, calm yourself. I will tell you what I know. All that I know is that they said they brought you here to love us, to love my people. We don't know what love is. I know you are not like us. You smell so good, you look so good. I feel like I want you in some way. My body wants you. Is this what love is?" Linda tried to pull away, but Nona kept her arms around her. Nona was immensely strong. Strain as she might, Linda was unable to break the iron-tight embrace. Linda felt herself start to weaken, but she braced herself and struggled further, fruitlessly. Nona nuzzled Linda's neck. "Oh lady, you smell so good." Nona's tongue reached out and licked Linda's face and mouth. "Oh lady, you taste so good, like nothing I tasted before." Nona licked down Linda's chin and neck. She pulled off Linda's robe and started unbuttoning her pajama top. Linda grabbed Nona's wrists and tried to pull her strong hands away but was unable to budge them. "Nona, stop, this is wrong, this is wrong," Linda sobbed. She felt ripped apart inside, torn between her desperate desire to be back home and free, and her uncontrollable pheromone-driven sensual responses to Nona's attentions and her very presence. Worn and forlorn, Linda wept. Nona's hands stilled. She looked up into Linda's flowing eyes, alarmed. "Wrong? This is wrong, lady? Smelling, tasting, touching, loving you is wrong? If loving you is wrong, I don't want to be right." "Nona, this isn't love! Love is when we both want it. If I don't want it, it's not love, it's rape!" Linda's tears had a strange effect. Nona's sexual feelings for Linda dropped to nothing. Now, instead of lust, Nona felt tenderness, concern, empathy. Linda's sobbed words brought Nona to the brink of anxiety. Nona frowned sharply, "Rape? They taught us about rape in our classes. Rape is wrong, very wrong. This is very serious. Over and over, they told us: Don't kill. Don't steal. Don't rape. Don't lie. Don't violate." Nona released Linda and stood up, stepped back, looked anxious, almost terrorized with guilt. "Lady, I am so sorry, I never wanted to rape you. I can't rape anyone. Rape is a violation." "But I was kidnapped! Stolen from my home! I've already been violated!" Linda cried even more. Nona looked deeply disturbed by Linda's ourburst. The bare door opened, and stayed open, as a short dark stocky man entered the room, a man looking much like Nona, also dressed in peasant whites and open sandals. "Nona, how are you? Has the lady loved you yet?" "Oh Pedro, the lady can't love us, and we can't love her. If we try, we would only rape her." "Oh no Nona, not rape! In our classes, they taught us that rape is wrong, that we must always respect others, even those who aren't our betters. We can't rape her. Lady, we are very sorry. We must go now." Nona and Pedro walked away, almost shamefully, leaving the door wide open. Linda sat on the bed a few moments, stunned into immobility. She jumped up and strode toward the door. Lorraine appeared in the doorway, blocking her exit. "Well, that was interesting, and a bit disappointing. No, VERY disappointing, for my corporate masters anyway. It seems you can control your level of attractiveness from the hybrids. You can turn them off too easily with your tears and words. We might be able to fix that if we keep you drugged, but my orders don't cover that option. You might not be suitable to mother a new race after all. Well, we have enough tissue samples from you already. We don't really need you here. We'll have to decide what to do with you." Lorraine slapped a medication patch onto Linda's neck over her carotid artery. Linda flinched. "Hey, don't kill me..." and then Linda collapsed. ----- Your eye is a magic camera lens. You drop from orbit, descending over the Sea of Cortez, your vision closing in on a small semi-desert subtropical island floating between the Mexican mainland and the Baja California peninsula. Armed boats bearing no insignia patrol around the island. These guards, and sinister buoys, warn away intruders. Dusk shadows stretch as the sun nears the western horizon. Your vision tightens. You see silhouetted shadows of fences, towers, barracks, industrial buildings, enclosed compounds, warehouses in a small freight port complex. The parade fields, truck gardens, airfield, and cemetery cast few shadows. Your magic eye floats toward a secured barracks, in through a barred window, down a wide hallway to a large common room. A score of small dark people in white peasant garb mill about, agitated, chattering nervously. What is driving their anxiety? Your eye drifts through another, smaller, barred window, down another, wider, hallway, into a much larger common room. A score of large ape-like beings mill about, agitated, grunting and squeaking nervously. Do wafting pheromones bear chemical messages between these two groups? Your eye moves out of the barracks and into a low building filled with offices. You glide down a long door-lined corridor and into a large conference room centered on a long table and its padded chairs. A few people (including Lorraine) of various gender identities wearing tropical linen suits sit around the table. The image of the aging muGen CEO who never looked anything like Dicky Attenborough glares down from a big video screen. He is not happy. The video conference is not pleasant. Many options are discussed, few of them entirely legal in most jurisdictions. Finally, tough decisions are made. Orders are given. Asses are kicked and kissed. The video screen goes dark. Your magic eye drifts from the conference room, through the office building, to a medical wing. Your eye sees a small clinic. The woman known as Linda Myers lies unconscious on a hospital bed. More stick-on medicated patches are visible on her arms emerging from light cotton pajamas. Two medics roll Linda onto a gurney. They wheel the gurney outside and slide her into an ambulance which then drives quietly to the island's airfield. She is loaded onto a small corporate jet bearing the muGen logo. The plane taxis and departs northward. Your magic eye returns to the secured barracks. All the small dark people and all the large ape-like creatures are still agitated and vocalizing. Is the inside air filled with tension, or with pheromones? Your magic eye closes again. --11-- (2000) Linda woke in her own bed, stretching, refreshed, naked and a bit horny as usual, a little lonely right now, but otherwise feeling pretty good. Wait, wasn't she supposed to have been at a party last night? She never missed her Friday get-togethers. Never ever! She shrugged. Some dim half-memories came to her. Jeez, what a weird dream! But she did not feel like she had consumed any of the usual mind-bending drugs. She shrugged again. Yeah, whatever. Linda crawled out of bed. She walked bare-assed to her familiar bathroom. She peed and washed, then threw her robe on. She started the espresso boiler and grabbed a cup of peach yogurt from the fridge. She sat at her computer and clicked for her usual YAHOO NEWS home page. She mouthed a cool spoonful of yogurt while the page loaded. She looked at the date and jumped. What the fuck? Monday? It couldn't be Monday, yesterday was Friday, right? Linda's little Nokia 2G cellphone rang. She saw that she had over a dozen voicemails, mostly from Dolores, her hot dark little former roommate and still a close fuckbuddy. This new call was from Dolores too. "Hey girl, where you been? I've been trying to reach you all weekend. Did you have a real hot date and turn your phone off? I mean, I had a fun time too, but at least I didn't switch off. You know, you might want to get to your office sometime today. They'll probably expect you to show up for work." "Work? Isn't this Saturday? No, can't be, the computer says it's Monday. Dolores, all I remember is getting off work Friday afternoon, then waking up here just a few minutes ago. Isn't this Saturday?" "What, you been in a time warp or something? You must have done some *powerful* shit, chica. Yes, today is indeed Monday, a working day. Maybe we should do lunch and talk about this. Tony's at noon, okay?" "Uh, yeah, okay, I'll see you at Tony's. If I'm late, order me a BLT on sourdough, right? See you then." "You got it, chica. Don't fall into any time machines on your way over, now." Linda slurped her espresso, work-dressed quickly, and made it to her desk only a little late. Linda did not accomplish much work that morning,. She just managed a few minor tasks on autopilot. She mostly sat hunched in her chair, staring blankly at her workstation monitor's abstract screensaver patterns, the shifting moires triggering memories, almost a hypnotic induction. Linda's weekend experiences slowly came back to her in a dim tide of recollection. She shuddered silently as the ordeal fell into place. Could it all have really happened? Dolores only had to impatiently wait ten minutes for Linda at the sandwich shop. Linda dashed in, spied sultry Dolly, plopped herself down at the small table, and started devouring her waiting lunch. "Hey chica, what's been going on? Are you okay?" "Wait now, I missed breakfast, I'm starving, I'll tell you in a minute, ummm..." "Yeah, whatever," Dolores said, nibbling her lip, "but you gotta start answering your phone more regular." Linda finished her sandwich and sucked-down the Polish pickle Dolly had left on her plate. "Okay, here's what I pieced together. I thought I'd had a real weird dream, but maybe not. Remember back at Berkeley when I had that pile of Kong's hair, and then it just disappeared? I think it was stolen by a biotech firm and they cloned some Kongs. They also used its DNA to make hybrid ape-people. And there's something about the DNA and body chemistry of my grandma and mom and me that's special for the apes. Bride of Kong 03 "So they kidnapped me, and took me to a Mexican island where they raise the clones and hybrids. They wanted me to fuck the hybrids, to be 'the mother of a new race,' they said. But the chemistry didn't work out right, so they brought me back and tried to wipe my memory. But I've remembered. I know it sounds like crazy shit. But I'm sure they took me Friday when I got off work, and brought me back here this morning." Dolores just stared at Linda as if her eyeballs had grown tentacles like a snail. "Chica, baby, whatever you took, you better share it. That is the *dopest* hallucination I ever heard of." Hallucination or reality? Nightmare or atrocity? Linda's head spun. Could it have been real? Linda struggled through the afternoon and collapsed that evening. Dolores was there for her, comforting, supporting, encouraging, healing. They had been sometimes-roommates and best-ever-friends-with-benefits and a firm mutual admiration society for seven years now. They were strong together. Together, they kept Linda from imploding in the insanity of her remembered experience. Linda had restored her memory that morning; now she repressed the mental images. It HAD to have been just a dream, right? "Fuck, I could sure use some brain bleach now," Linda thought anxiously. Linda compartmentalized her mind. Software designs in one cranny. Family memories in another. Friends and lovers in their own safe spaces, Dolores the most prominent. The musics and arts she loved in other nooks. And memories of the island, carefully tucked-away in a hidden closet, the door locked and forgotten. Time passes. Life and love and work and play continue. The story arc moves on. --12-- (2014) Linda Myers stuck the iPhone in the clip on her running shorts and adjusted her earbuds. She started her usual music, tunes to drive her on today's ten-miles-plus loop run, over the Seven Hills of San Francisco. At 39, she was slowing down a little, but she still expected to finish in less than two hours. This Saturday in the autumn of 2014 was just right for the effort. Linda's long chestnut hair (no grey yet!) was woven in a French braid. Her silver satin running shorts nicely displayed her silky smooth thighs and taught toned calves. Her firm breasts hardly needed her sports bra for support; they adequately filled her thin spun-poly jersey. She still looked damn good! Linda was wheezing only slightly when she reached her door. When her apartment went condo twelve years before, she had cashed in her stock options and bought the place -- just before the tech bubble burst and her employer went under. Good timing! She still loved it better than anyplace except Captain Jack's B&B. Linda showered and pulled on some clean sweats, then flopped on her couch. Gatorade still tasted good after a run like that. She punched up some Persian music and lay back to zone out. Her doorbell rang. Annoyed, she checked the doorcam monitor to see who dared disturb her. She saw a tall man and a short women, both in light linen suits, both with dark hair and unusual facial structures. That woman's face looked familiar. She looked like... Linda gasped. That face was out of a dream, an old bad dream. Nona? She staggered to the door and just cracked it. "Hi lady, you look good. This is Kane. Can we come in please?" Mute, Linda let them inside. "Lady, you have a nice place here. I'm sorry about what they did to you back then. We're here to try to make things right. Can we sit down?" Linda gestured at the couch and fell into a chair. She was still stunned. Kane spoke for the first time. "Miss Myers, we're here to tell you that you both are and aren't 'the mother of a new race' as you were told. You are, because your tinkered-with DNA has allowed our people to live and love. You aren't, because the breeding and cloning and hybrid programs were stopped. Nona is of the 1995 generation. I'm from the 1996 generation. There are no other generations. What muGen was trying to do with primates is over. "But even though the active programs have been halted, the work and its results remain intact. All our people, hybrids and clones, are healthy and strong. We still have the same reaction to your pheromones. And you react to our shared pheromones. We are all bound together with ties of biochemical attraction. "Miss Myers..." Kane continued. "You might as well call me Linda," she interrupted. "Miss... Linda, we want you to know that all our people love you, because of what you have unwittingly given us, and because you refused to let muGen have its way. That simple act means that generations of slaves won't be bred and sold, won't labor and fight for their owners. You freed us to be who we are. "Now the labs are closed, the island is open, and our people have moved into the human world. We all wanted to come here to thank you. But only a few of us could make it. May I let the other two in?" Linda nodded. Nona went to the door. A short man and a tall woman entered. They looked remarkably like Nona and Kane. Kane introduced them. "You might remember Pedro, from the island. He is with Nona. This is Tara." Pedro gently shook Linda's hand. Tara gave Linda a shy hug. Nona came over to hug Linda too. Pedro and then Kane wrapped their arms around the others. They stood together, holding gently, warmly, lovingly. Pheromones are funny stuff. They can work in several directions. Linda started responding to the hybrids' scents and body auras. They were seriously responding to hers. Their group hug lasted longer, grew tighter and warmer, and they started rubbing together, sharing their biochemical auras, becoming one super-organism, almost a hive-mind. Linda was the first to start groaning. "Oh fuck, all you guys smell so good. We need to get naked." And they did. Politely pleading travel-grunge, Pedro and Nona showered quickly and efficiently while Kane and Tara lovingly undressed Linda. Then those taller three ducked under the water. Linda sudsed and scrubbed Kane and Tara thoroughly. Linda rubbed their bodies, almost as if massaging them. She felt their faces, their limbs, their muscles, the bones underneath, their portals to pleasure. And even in her excitement, she noticed... differences... between them and her. Their proportions were not the same as normal humans. Linda had run her hands deeply over many, many human bodies in her life, but no bodies quite like Kane's and Tara's. Their almost-alien bodies would need further exploration, yes. They turned off the water. Linda was already clean, so Kane and Tara licked her dry, her entire body. Well, not totally dry, but close enough. Water was removed from her skin but she stayed moist. Mmmm... The three excitedly entered the bedroom to find Linda's Cal-King bed already occupied with Nona riding Pedro in a reverse-cowgirl position sitting at the bed's edge. Kane kissed Linda and Tara, then moved between the joined lovers legs, to lick and finger Nona's clit, and Pedro's shaft where it entered her body, while sharing nipple-tweaking and tongue-thrashing duties. Linda pushed Tara onto her back on the bed, lifted a leg over Tara's head, and settled her hungry mouth down on Tara's delicious pussy. They 69'd slowly, luxuriantly, mutually moaning, becoming one soul, one heart. Linda's tongue reached into Tara's pussy like a well of mystery, with a taste Linda had never experienced before. Yes, more to explore. Pedro and Nona's fucking became more frenzied, abetted by Kane's expert ministrations. Nona came, long and quiet. Kane still knelt before Nona, fondling her breasts and laving her loins. She came again, quietly. Pedro pulled out of Nona and moved over behind Linda as she 69'd atop Tara. He eased his stiff cock into Linda's velvet vagina, then leaned over and cupped her hanging breasts as she gasped and throbbed. He moved easily inside her, slowly, then faster. Tara's tongue licked and probed at Linda's clit and Pedro's swift shaft. Occasionally, Tara pulled Pedro's cock free, swallowed it as far as she could, sucking and humming, and then replaced it in Linda's cunt. Linda groaned more with every re-entry. Kane pulled Nona on top of himself for their own 69. Nona devoured his long thick cock to his dark roots. They had shared this position before, but never with such passion and energy. Linda's pheromones drove them into a feeding frenzy. They devoured each other -- but in a nice way, of course. And that is when Dolores let herself into the apartment. She followed the sounds into the bedroom and gazed upon the fleshy splendor. "Hot damn. Anyone mind if I join in?" Somebody waved a hand, gesturing abstractly. Dolores stripped and dove right into the action. Dolores felt Linda's continuing love, and Pedro's quiet vigor, and Nona's simple caring, and Kane's vitality, and especially Tara's mystery. Dolores felt mystically drawn to Tara, their spirits magnetized and aligned. Dolly and Tara felt a cosmic soul fusion. Their love exploded and enveloped all the others. Dolores and Tara communicated silently, almost telepathically. "You are so beautiful." "You are so strong." "You taste like vanilla and cinnamon." "Your heart glows." "You devour me." "You are love." After various couplings and triplings, the mixed group of exhilarated lovers formed a six-way daisychain. Just who was eating who, does not matter; they all had fun. But not for long, not that way. Long chains are inherently unstable, same as with organic polymers -- and hormones. Complexity drains and decomposes. So, after Linda's twentieth or thirtieth orgasm, her body's pheromone production started to run low. And so did their energy. Even the immensely strong hybrids needed a good revitalizing rest. Rest, but not stupor. In their piled-up cluster of bodies, Linda and Kane were intensely aware of each other. They pulled apart from the others and embraced tentatively, then more directly. Linda reached down to Kane's cock and found it stiff again. She rolled him onto his back, straddled his hips, and slowly lowered her well-oiled cunt onto his ready rod. She thrust him inside her, fully engaged, then bent deeply forward, breasts pressed to his chest, lips pressed to his face. Their eyes locked. She felt his biochemical aura merge with hers, felt them melt together. They joined together as one body, indivisible, with justice and orgone energy for all. Time stopped. All motion stopped. City noise and room sounds were silenced. Nothing moved but their eyes, their pupils, dilating and contracting, pulsing in a synchronized rhythm. Time resumed. Sound resumed. Breaths were inhaled and exhaled. Tired muscles twitched. Linda and Kane's mouths moved to each other. Their lips barely touched. Together, synchronized, their lips and tongues moved to say the same words: "I will be in you for the rest of my life." Thus they spoke their marriage vow. The wedding ceremony was a month later, but that was just a formality, a public pronouncement of the existing reality. They were already merged. Tara and Dolores felt just as closely joined. They felt an intense bond as sisters-lovers. They felt, no, they KNEW, that they completed each other -- and it was not just pheromones talking. They melted together, and whispered the same vow as Kane and Linda, and chose to ceremonialize their merging along with the other couple. ----- All the hybrid Kong folk who could, came from around the world to San Francisco for the joint weddings. They started arriving a week before the event. They did not all leave until a week afterwards. Twenty of the small dark Generation 1995 hybrids were there, including Nona and Pedro, and twenty-two of the taller Generation 1996 folk, including Kane and Tara. Quite a mob -- they overflowed local hostelries. Linda and Dolores were absorbed and fascinated by the swarms of hybrid folks, those of each generation being so alike yet so different. And Kane and Tara were the most distinctive among them. Linda and Kane, and Dolores and Tara, lay together not long before the weddings. Linda continued to marvel at Kane and Tara's uniqueness, their distinct auras and presence. "Kane, you and Tara are just so... different from anyone I have ever known, including all your kin. Do you feel this? Do you know about this?" Kane and Tara looked at each other, communicating silently. They nodded, and Tara spoke. "We of each generation are not identical. You have seen that. It is not just natural variation. Each of us results from different genetic engineering, not just in the amount of Kong DNA we bear, but also in how the human DNA was adapted to receive it. We were all unique experiments." Kane continued Tara's explanation. "Tara and I received a greater amount of Kong DNA than did the others. And our Kong and human DNA mixes are the most closely integrated. We are both the most human, and the most Kong, of all us hybrids. In one sense, we are the children of Kong. But essentially, we are Kong himself. I am Kong, and Tara is Kong." And thus, with the wedding that followed, did Linda and Dolores each become: THE BRIDE OF KONG The end? ----- AUTHOR'S NOTE (in case anyone cares): I thought about this story for a while. A few years ago, I penned a different version of the first section, the magic eye looking at Carl Denham. All I had was that first section, with a couple ideas of where to take it, but I really couldn't get it built. Then I lost the paper with that text. Fuck me. The story idea still haunted me. I recently sat down and just let the story write itself. Oh sure, I had to help a little, but basically the characters just wrote their own tales. Cheeky buggers! This story takes place in a universe where the KING KONG and JURASSIC PARK films are documentaries. I try to abide by the natural laws of that universe. You can judge how well I've done. This is a somewhat edited revision of this third chapter. My thanks to monoblanco for editing suggestions. I still don't really like this ending. Stay tuned for CH.04, with alternate endings. --Hypoxia (gasp!) Bride of Kong 04 Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Or is it? All characters herein are imaginary. Or are they? All events described here are fictitious. Oh, really? All locales described here are real and actual. But this story is not to be taken seriously. Or is it? All sexual activity depicted here involves more-or-less human persons at least 18 years old, and a manufactured creature. Some primate host-mothers were only slightly harmed in writing this story. Pray for them. If you have not read the previous episodes, you will not get this. The synopsis below ain't nearly enough. All prior episodes have been expanded and corrected since their original posting. Read them all! Even after significant revisions, I didn't really like how I ended episode 03, so I've written these cascaded alternate endings. Your feedback is appreciated. No death-threats, please. SYNOPSIS: Tall slender chestnut-haired software engineer Linda Myers is the granddaughter of Jack Driscoll and Ann Darrow, yes, the same Ann Darrow who was pursued by King Kong so long ago. Ann, her daughter Susan, and Susan's daughter Linda, are the only known humans to exude certain hormones, called pheromones. The Darrow bloodline and the Kong bloodline each respond sexually to the other's pheromones. Biotech firm muGen has devoted great effort to genetic engineering and cloning, especially trying to re-create dinosaurs and large extinct mammals. muGen successfully produced small populations of clones and hybrids based on stolen DNA from King Kong's hair. The clones, all males, are large ape-like creatures. The mixed-gender humanoid hybrids, who can pass as human, are of two distinct generations. The Kong clones and hybrids behave asexually EXCEPT when exposed to Darrow-family pheromones. muGen needs a Darrow descendent, specifically Linda Myers, as a source for harvested pheromones, to drive the sexuality and reproduction of the Kongs. muGen drugs and kidnaps 25-year-old Linda to their bio-lab island in the Gulf of California. Linda awakens in a small cell and is exposed to clones and hybrids. Interacting with small dark Kong hybrids Nona and Pedro in her cell, Linda finds that her tears act as counter-pheromones, killing the sexual attraction and Linda's usefulness. muGen abandons their efforts to control Linda and eventually ends the Kong development program. Linda is returned to her San Francisco home, her memory partially scrubbed, then partially restored, then partially repressed. Linda pulls her life back together with the help of her hot dark long-time fuck-buddy Dolores (Dolly). Many years later, hybrids Pedro and Nona, and taller Kane and Tara, appear at Linda's door, praising her for liberating their people by her resistance to muGen. Pheromones drive the five into a sexual frenzy where they are joined by Dolores. Linda and Kane fall in love, as do Dolly and Tara. They merge their lives with perfect love. A double wedding is in order. And now, for the Happy Ending(s)! --12A-- (2014) (original ending) All the hybrid Kong folk who could, came from around the world to San Francisco for the joint weddings. They started arriving a week before the event. They did not all leave until a week afterwards. Twenty of the small dark Generation 1995 hybrids were there, including Nona and Pedro, and twenty-two of the taller Generation 1996 folk, including Kane and Tara. Quite a mob -- they overflowed local hostelries. Linda and Dolores were absorbed and fascinated by the swarms of hybrid folks, those of each generation being so alike yet so different. And Kane and Tara were the most distinctive among them. Linda and Kane, and Dolores and Tara, lay together not long before the weddings. Linda continued to marvel at Kane and Tara's uniqueness, their distinct auras and presence. "Kane, you and Tara are just so... different from anyone I have ever known, including all your kin. Do you feel this? Do you know about this?" Kane and Tara looked at each other, communicating silently. They nodded, and Tara spoke. "We of each generation are not identical. You have seen that. It is not just natural variation. Each of us results from different genetic engineering, not just in the amount of Kong DNA we bear, but also in how the human DNA was adapted to receive it. We were all unique experiments." Kane continued Tara's explanation. "Tara and I received a greater amount of Kong DNA than did the others. And our Kong and human DNA mixes are the most closely integrated. We are both the most human, and the most Kong, of all us hybrids. In one sense, we are the children of Kong. But essentially, we are Kong himself. I am Kong, and Tara is Kong." And thus, with the wedding that followed, did Linda and Dolores each become: THE BRIDE OF KONG The end? --12B-- (2014) (first alternate) Kane continued Tara's explanation. "Tara and I received a greater amount of Kong DNA than did the others. And our Kong and human DNA mixes are the most closely integrated. We are both the most human, and the most Kong, of all us hybrids. In one sense, we are the children of Kong. But essentially, we are Kong himself. I am Kong, and Tara is Kong. "But we are not the only Kongs. The 'clones' are closest to the original King Kong genetically, of course, but even they have undergone genetic engineering. Some gene-tweaking was necessary for them to develop as embryos in their host-mothers. They had to be shrunk, of course -- no living female primate has a womb sufficient to bear a full-size Kong. "Others were developed as intermediates between the Kong clones and the first hybrids -- halflings, being half-clone, half-hybrid. These halflings are more Kong-like in appearance and capability than we hybrids but yet bear enough human DNA to give them very human-like brains and minds. "We brought another guest with us. You have not seen him yet. He is the greatest of the halflings." Kane pursed his lips and gave a warbling whistle. The bedroom door opened. Nona and Pedro stood there, with a large indistinct shape looming in the shadows behind them. Kane gestured toward them and spoke. "Linda and Dolores, allow me to present -- KONG!" Nona and Peter stepped aside, and KONG entered the bedroom. Tall naked Kane and Tara had joined clothed Pedro and Nona near the bedroom door. They stood back to watch KONG's human interaction. Tall Linda and shorter Dolores gasped with amazement. They saw a heavily-muscled figure nearly seven feet tall, covered with short dark fur, his face with almost-human features on a large elongated skull, with thin lips, narrow nose, high cheekbones, and penetrating large hazel eyes under thin brows. His arms and legs, and hands and feet, were long and strong. KONG was definitely male, obscenely male, with a naked porn-star penis dangling in front of testicles that would have made a Highland bull proud. KONG exuded both raw animal sexuality and refined human charisma, as well as a piquant alien sense. He was like the ultimate physical embodiment of primate lust. KONG was the most magnificent creature Linda and Dolores had ever seen! Linda's pheromones attracted and inflamed KONG. Her unique sexual scent drew him toward her mesmerized naked body sitting cross-legged on the bed, arm-in-arm with Dolly. And KONG's own pheromones drew Linda to him like a magnet. Dolores could not resist KONG's physical allurement either. When aroused Dolly crawled towards KONG, Tara moved to her and held her shoulder. "I'm sorry, my love, but KONG is for Linda now. He needs her Darrow scent. Come with me." Tara drew Dolly aside and embraced her tenderly. The other hybrids closed on Dolly also, holding and comforting her. All watched KONG and Linda. Linda's saturated senses and drenched pheromone receptors overwhelmed her analytical mind. She instinctively rolled onto her belly, raised her body on elbows and knees, spread her thighs for penetration, and looked over her shoulder. "Take me," Linda whispered from the edge of the bed. KONG's soft raspy voice said, "Thank you, my dear." KONG stepped forward to the bed and slowly slid his immense length into Linda's wet welcoming vagina. He moved in and out, ever so slowly and gently, as her sheath stretched to accommodate him. Finally, he was fully embedded. He moved with her in the ancient humanoid rhythm, the dance of life and love. And thus, with this mating, did Linda become: THE BRIDE OF KONG The end? --12B-- (2014) (second alternate) KONG was the most magnificent creature Linda and Dolores had ever seen! Linda's pheromones attracted and inflamed KONG. Her unique sexual scent drew him toward her mesmerized naked body sitting cross-legged on the bed, arm-in-arm with Dolly. And KONG's own pheromones drew Linda to him like a magnet. KONG stepped forward to the edge of the bed and gazed down on the naked wholly-human forms of Linda and Dolores. His soft raspy voice said, "I am but a moth to your flames, my dears." Linda crawled to KONG. She carefully handled his enormous prong. She brought her face close, sniffed the uncircumcised head, tentatively licked the crown, and then down the shaft. She opened her mouth and took in as much as she could, less than half its length. She coated the marvelous member with her sweet saliva. Dolores could not resist KONG's physical allurement either. She moved beside Linda and cupped KONG's supersized scrotum in her trembling hands. Dolly brought her head next to Linda's, cheek to cheek. Their tongues joined in orally worshipping the most marvelous primate penis on the planet. Linda turned her body around at the bed's edge. She instinctively rolled onto her belly, raised her body on elbows and knees, spread her thighs for access, and looked over her shoulder. "Take me," she begged. KONG slowly slid his immense length into Linda's wet welcoming vagina. He moved in and out, ever so slowly and gently, as her sheath stretched to accommodate him. Finally, he was fully embedded. He moved with her in the ancient hominid rhythm, the dance of life and eternity. And after a time, Linda came, screaming. Linda fell away from KONG's consuming cock and lay breathless on the bed. Dolores moved to mirror Linda's previous posture, presenting her tight dark bottom to KONG. "Now me, I beg you," Dolly wailed softly. KONG carefully embedded himself inside Dolly's tantalizing tunnel. Her eventual screams were just as loud. Linda recovered and resumed her receptive position. KONG moved back into her, starting slowly again, then pounding faster, pounding her into orgasm after orgasm, time after time, her body only remaining upright because KONG held her hips against his powerful thrusting. KONG felt the eruption building within him. He roared, and came, massive spurts of hot seed splashing into Linda's womb, filling her to overflowing with life and love and lust and joy and pure power. KONG collapsed on the bed beside Linda and Dolores. The other hybrids, now all naked, closed on the trio of happily exhausted lovers, carressing and kissing them, joining all their biochemical auras together. Humans, hybrids, halfling -- all merged. ----- The wedding ceremony was held on the grounds of a stately Victorian mansion on the Pacific Heights crest overlooking the Golden Gate and the Bay's islands. The crowd of hybrids and some humans gathered in the ballroom of the former embassy where a nervous-looking Unitarian marrying-and-burying cleric awaited at the podium. Damn, this was different! And quite unofficial. No marriage licenses today, nope. A bell softly rang. The string quartet that had filled the air with sonic trifles now started playing more formal music, and louder. The audience took their seats in rows of comfortable padded oak folding chairs. The string quartet played a processional march. Nona, as bridesmaid, led Linda and Dolores and Tara down the rose-petal-strewn center aisle. All wore light modest dresses, Nora's lemon yellow, the brides in creamy vanilla. Pedro, as bridesman, led Kane and KONG along the aisle to the podium. All wore white linen summer suits. Pedro's a little darker than the others. KONG's immense now-clothed form dominated the room. Dolores and Tara stood together, flanked by Nona. Linda and Kane stood together opposite them, with Pedro to the side. KONG stood between the two couples but near Linda. The cleric, his nerves calmed a bit by a few doses of medicinal cognac, started administering a wedding service like none ever spoken before. He spoke of love and science and history and various other subjects about which he knew little. His trained well-modulated voice only quivered slightly. He pronounced Dolores and Tara to be partners in life and love. With a bit more assurance, he pronounced the same of Linda and Kane. Each couple kissed and glowed. Then came the big moment. KONG and Linda stood together. The cleric intoned: "Before all assembled here to witness the beginning of a new world, I now pronounce you: KONG AND WIFE!" And thus, with these words, did Linda become: THE BRIDE OF KONG The reception in the outdoor gardens of the mansion was lovely and loving. Champagne and stories and laughter flowed like spring-melt rivulets. Voices and music swirled; dancers twirled; the world shifted on its axis. The future would never be the same. The crowd finally dispersed. The lovers stayed together. They all lived happily ever after. The end? --12C-- (2014) (third alternate) And thus, with the wedding, did Linda become: THE BRIDE OF KONG The wedding and reception had been lovely. All spirits were exhalted, all hearts expanded. Life was good. One member of the audience was not quite what she seemed. Along with other human guests, the young Asian woman held her iPhone up to record and transmit the proceedings. Her muGen security team ID card had been carefully left at home. The signal from her phone fed straight to muGen's corporate offices. So did audiovisual feeds from several cameras secreted about the premises. The CEO whom nobody would ever mistake for Dicky Attenborough had died some years prior. Ensuing vicious corporate power struggles played out and left a familiar face on top: Lorraine, who had run muGen's Mexican island-based Great Beast Project at the turn of the millennium. The tall taut fifty-something dirty-blond MILF monitored the real-time feeds from the wedding, and smiled. Lorraine turned to her boy-toy personal secretary. His handsome, chiseled visage was near her pale face, but her mind's eye saw other faces: the Darrow women, and the hybrids and halflings, and their lovers. Lorraine absently stroked the young man's ebony cheek and chin. "No plan ever survives contact with reality, but sometime that's all for the best," she murmured, mostly to herself. He knew better than to reply. Yes, the old long-term plans had fallen apart. Linda's resistance and independence had scuttled the original Great Beast Project. But from that effort's ruins, another plan had grown, and had borne fruit. Yes, the Mexican island site of the Great Beast Project had been shut down, but not forgotten. Its assets were secretly moved to a more remote and secure facility near Papua New Guinea, not far from Skull Island, the original home of King Kong. New populations of clones and halflings and hybrids were about to mature. Cloning the Darrow DNA to produce the necessary pheromones had succeeded. And a full-size Kong clone was now possible. Lorraine looked forward to the theme-park possibilities. Fuck the mouse! Piss on animatronics! The next super-attraction would be: KONG WORLD! muGen's total domination of the genetic engineering field was assured for the near future. They could conquer entertainment too. Lorraine exulted. Lorraine switched off the wedding feed and shifted her attention to the next major project. Her agents had secured alien DNA from the Roswell UFO crash, both directly from organic remains found at the site, and from samples 'liberated' from the military labs at Area 51 at Rachel, Nevada, and the Dulce Base in New Mexico. The work of growing alien clones and hybrids was moving along nicely. Lorraine could hardly wait for her chance to fuck perfected cloned aliens. They promised to be even more sexually capable than the magnificent Kong halflings. Lorraine's hungry pussy twitched in anticipation. "The future's so bright, I gotta wear shades," Lorraine hummed to herself. Life was good. The end? --12D-- (suppressed alternates) * Lorraine's alien-cloning Roswell Project results in the discovery of new biomedical technologies including fast gender swaps. Lorraine has some of her underlings undergo the process. Her boy-toys can now become a girl-toys in only five minutes. Lorraine enjoys many orgies where her partners constantly change genders. Next, she does the same with halflings, after spritzing herself with Darrow pheromones. Hilarity ensues. * The aliens observing human development from their secret Lunar base are quite pleased with events. Humans have learned to modify their own genetic codes, unleashing the inevitable fractioning of humanity into disparate sub-species. The aliens look forward to the upcoming competition between 'normals', mermen, Kong bloodline, snake people, and the DNA from 'grays' such as the Roswell infiltrators. Think of it as evolution in action. * Many Kong-DNA hybrids have assumed positions of responsibility in human societies around the world. But they still long for their early days, when they all lived together on the project island, along with their clone and halfling kin. After the wedding of Linda and KONG they collectively decide to live in common as a community. Deluged with Darrow pheromones, their gatherings become non-stop fuckfests, to be described in detail. * The Kong-community endless orgy radiates vast beams of orgone energy on the planet, energy in wavelengths and patterns never before known. This triggers the growth and release of yet more primal energies that rock Earth's biosphere. All lifeforms become more energetic, more frantic -- hornier! All Terran lifeforms (and some aliens) are pushed into an eternal mating frenzy. Finally, it's all too much. Earth explodes! Yes, Earth fucks itself to death. NEXT: Can a full-size King Kong Klone stand against The Attack Of The 50-Foot Cheerleaders? ----- AUTHOR'S NOTE (in case anyone cares): This story takes place in a universe where the KING KONG and JURASSIC PARK films are documentaries. I try to abide by the natural laws of that universe. You can judge how well I've done. My thanks to monoblanco for editing suggestions. --Hypoxia (gasp!)