0 comments/ 4322 views/ 1 favorites F_Cubed Pt. 02 By: Taunus Part II Chapter Nine: The Scolding The scene is the large conference room, Room 1108, of the Fossil Fuel Fellowship tower building. Two are there already: the F-Cubed Chairman and an administrative assistant, Kate Stump. Kate is on loan from the Natural Gas Division of F-Cubed, as Jenny is in parts unknown. Mr. England is seated as two burly guards usher in Robert Reeves, Stanley Smythe, and Mr. Cleancoal. "What have you done?" Mr. England asks. "Our state-of-the art gynoid, Dora, has turned rogue; the package, Harry Sloan is on the loose; no one knows what has happened to Jenny; and, all hell has broken loose over an untimely press release on a new cheap, clean, copious fuel. I brought in these guards from the Natural Gas Division along with Kate here. You two---Bob and Stan---got on a police blotter, not to mention losing your firearms, credit cards, ID, and money. Not to mention the big loss. You lost the briefcase with all sorts of surveillance equipment, electronic tools, and eavesdropping gadgets. This will make it doubly hard to locate Harry Sloan. And Jenny? What about her and her corporate knowledge of F-Cubed." Mr. England is very pissed off at the whole state of affairs. "We can contain the damage," Mr. Cleancoal suggests. "Just follow the money trail. Sooner or later Harry Sloan will use a credit or debit card and we can locate him. The cell phones all made it into a gutter outside of Golden Days retirement home. As for Dora: that fembot is in need of substantial repairs. We will search for repair facilities capable of fixing such an advanced gynoid. There are only a few and then we can use the authorities if needs be to police her up." "You people better not screw up this time," Mr. England threatens. "F-Cubed's name is on the line here. We don't want a police investigation. And bad publicity could cause our demise. And when I say 'demise' I mean exactly that. Is there any question about this?" "No, Sir," the three respond. "I have ordered a new state-of-the-art gynoid, Dina, to assist you. She has additional armor and weaponry," Mr. England explains. "And don't let her go rogue. Soon we will determined what happened to Dora. Kate will be the only administratrix for this new gynoid." Stan sweats at the thought of the discovery. "I put two slugs into that rogue gynoid," Bob interjects. "There were hydraulic fluids and other viscous liquids everywhere. The fact that she was able to recover enough to escape amazed me." "When you do locate her," Mr. England bellows, "terminate her with extreme prejudice." Mr. England is sweaty inside his expensive business suit. He removes the suit coat from his pinstriped gray flannel business suit, revealing maroon suspenders. Hunched over his desk and wearing large eye glasses, he looks like a huge housefly. Kate observes the similarity, but carefully avoids a giggle or smirk. "And you, Mr. Cleancoal," Mr. England commands, "you arrange for those two copies of Harry Sloan's dissertation to disappear. Act now before some investigative journalist gets ahold of them." "What makes you think that there are only those two copies?" Stan asks. "That's chance," Mr. England replies. "I'm betting on old papers getting tossed out. If there's no profit, count it as clutter. The Library of Congress gets two copies for the Copyright Office. But, to be sure, Kate, you get some forged papers and go to the Golden Years retirement complex as, say, Sloan's niece. Gather up any documents there. Let Dina drive. Stan, you and Bob wait around the block while Kate gets the stuff. Don't let the people at the retirement project recognize you. Understood?" All asserted that they understood the immediate plan. There is a knock at the door. Dina the gynoid enters. At five-foot-seven she is tall and tan and young and lovely." Bob and Stan and the two guards at the door say "ah." Mr. England frowns. "Don't let her beauty fool you lechers," Mr. England warns. "She is trained to seduce, torture, and kill as needs be." Now everyone is sweaty and ill-at-ease." Bob, Stan, Dina, and Kate leave on their first assignment. For sure his will be a routine mission and the probability of success very high. It will let the team their first opportunity to work together. Chapter Ten: Jenny's Punishment While the F-Cubed people are on their mission, Jenny and Harry Sloan are resting, exhausted in their room at Motel 6(tm) just off Interstate Five. The two awaken and appear lost in space. At last Harry speaks: "What I can't figure out is why you would risk life and limb, career and future on me? I was only looking to escape the Fossil Fuel Fellowship. Certainly I had no hope to find another place to dwell. It was nothing but the subsisters for me." "I saw the light about F-Cubed," Jenny confesses. "They are evil and conniving. They will stop at nothing to enhance their bottom line---corporate profits." "True," Harry agrees, "but it is a career. I worked for Khannibal Meat Exports, Inc. for twenty-five years. Somehow the F-Cubed conglomerate was able to take over that business as well." "What I can't figure out," Jenny asks, "is how you managed to escape? Bob and Stan are highly trained professionals. And Dora, the gynoid, was supposed to assist them. Now I have heard that Dora turned rouge. That is hard to believe. This all seems so unlikely, impossible. When I saw you emerge with the briefcase, I knew that somehow you were able to overcome two men and a bot." "I hit the big one---Bob---with my walker," Harry answers. "He wasn't expecting it. Me either! Somehow I managed to summons up the strength and disarm him. The other came out of my room with his gun down. I had the drop on him. From there the issue was settled. Dora got shot by Bob---twice in the chest. I'm afraid that she's done for. But I didn't have time to waste. I got those two handcuffed with their own cuffs and made a beeline for the front and a taxi. Really, I had no idea where to go. But I took a large roll of folding currency, cash, from each. Those kind always carry big bucks. They usually are able to bribe their way out of every tight spot." "Amazing!" Jenny looks at Harry with wide blue eyes. "You survived the impossible. I could not resist the excitement of defeating the agents of corruption and greed. One only lives once, and striking a blow for truth, justice, and the American way is too much to pass up." "You are a hopeless romantic," Harry surmises. "All those years in school and the sacrifices to become a corporate administrative assistant gone. You will never get another big time job. You may even be terminated with extreme prejudice, if they decide you are a danger to their hegemony. I am a lost cause. Even if they got everything on my theory, I can't remember the maths or physics. Those twenty-five years with Khannibal have fried my mind. Eliminating me would gain nothing. There is no way I could cook up a laboratory experiment." Harry laughs. "Did you have sex with that gynoid Dora?" Jenny blurts out. "I have Parkinson's disease, girl," Harry replies. "What is your name, by the way?" "Oh my," Jenny responds. "It's Jenny. Jennifer Coddingham. Sorry, it just seemed like we've know each other a long time, like forever even. There was so much gossip about the proton decomposition around the office." Harry sighs, taking in a deep breath and releasing it. "You deserve better than a machine," Jenny comments. "How long has it been since you had a real woman?" "Ah," Harry slips into reverie, "hard to say, no pun intended." Jenny removes her coat and begins unbuttoning her blouse. She is absolutely gorgeous. She shakes her head and her luscious blonde hair cascades like a silk waterfall over her statuesque shoulders and toned arms. A faint but discernible scent of perfume and woman drives Harry's libido into euphoria. He has long given up the possibility of maintaining a penile erection, but now he seems rejuvenated. How can this be. Jenny notices the rise in his Levi's(tm). She removes her skirt and is now wearing only her black silk underwear. Harry pulls down his blue jeans. He is naked from the waist to the top of his white socks. Due to the incontinence from Parkinson's disease, he rarely wears briefs. Jenny removes her bra and panties as she approaches. He opens his mouth to speak, but she presses an index finger to his lips. "Shh," she whispers and nibbles on his ear as she lies down beside him. He begins to fondle her dusky breasts. He starts at the base of her teats and probes the infrastructure: veins and arteries, milk ducts and milk sacs, adipose and mesentery, muscle and sinew. As he pokes, prods, probes, and massages her breasts she breathes warm breath on him and whispers: "pinch, pull, and twist me!" Jenny clearly want her pleasure enhanced with a modicum of pain. She climbs atop of him and reaches down to glide his throbbing member into her Holy of Holies. She whispers: "No gynoid can match the original article." This, of course, is not true. Jenny knows it as well as Harry. But this moment could last for eternity. It is the penultimate, quintessential contrast of opposites. Harry's wilted, weathered, winkled lips wantonly press Jenny's soft, pouty, smooth lips. This could be a masterpiece oil painting of the mismatched lovers. But it is a osculation of ideologies: Harry, whose thesis was rejected by the lovers of dirty coal, and Jenny, no longer a dupe of corporate greed. Jenny pumps atop the man old enough to be her grandfather. Spittle drools from his aged jowls as vaginal fluid oozes from her vulva. There is a strong odor of sex in the air. The amine aroma, fishy in fact, emanates from Harry's precum. They feel the bond of both being fugitives and seeing no tomorrow. Harry can only see joining the subsisters in a homeless shelter. Of course the "Four Score Club" offers a quick, painless demise. Jenny has her youth and strength, as well as a knowledge of the corporate workings of the F-Cubed. She is relying on their uncertainty as to her whereabouts. While they may have their doubts about her allegiance, hard facts and evidence are lacking. Could this be a Stockholm syndrome? Perhaps she is being forced to reveal their corporate behavior. They dare not contact the police. She would only be visible to those in F-Cubed from an electronic trail. She could survive joining the militant ecologists and tree-huggers. Her mind flashes red with crass carnal craving. The duo come together. Hot sticky seminal fluid fills Jenny's tight vagina. Her pussy lips drool the commingled juices. Harry eases a thumb into Jenny's tight, tiny, taut rosette. Usually Jenny would never permit such an indignity; however, the taboo treasure trove seems most appropriate for the moment. She wishes to be used as never before---she is an anal virgin. She come harder and more intense in a multiple orgasms, climaxing again and again as the power of passion swells inside her womb. The thought of the destruction of the environment for corporate greed motivates her more and more. After a mind-numbing orgasm, the two lay face to face. After a long hiatus, Jenny looks to Harry and says: "Tie me up and sodomize me." "What?" Harry retorts. "You want to be butt-fucked. You were so tiny and tight. Is this your first time?" Jenny blushes and says: "Yes, I need to be punished for working for the F_Cubed conglomerate. I need to be made to suffer and be humiliated and embarrassed." "Hmm," Harry responds. "What can we tie you up with? I had no time to pack, not even my toothbrush. All that I took was the money, guns, and this briefcase from Stan." "Check out the briefcase," Jenny suggests. Harry does and there are some plastic tie restraints. With ankles and wrists tied, Jenny's privates are vulnerable, available and unprotected. He spits on his hands and lubricates his hands to begin the penetration of her Glory of Glories. As his dickhead presses her anus, her buttocks involuntarily contract. "Relax," Harry orders, "lest you injure or hurt yourself." "Go on," Jenny pleads, "don't stop." Harry isn't impatient. He waits until she is able to relax her glorious hemispheres and present her nictitating brown star. Once displayed and puckered, he shoves his massive member deep into her rectum. She cries as her taboo treasure trove is rudely distended. Yet inside she is filled with a certain warmth and satisfaction in that she is combating the plague and scourge of the Fossil Fuel Fellowship, offering her anal virginity to the altar of clean, cheap, copious energy---power and light renewable and non-polluting. "Cum in my butt," she begs. Harry pumps hard. Unused to such stimulation, he fears a coronary infarction. But the atavistic animal attraction overcomes any concern about health or caution. He feels her pubococcygeal muscles undulate and pulse with arousal. Jenny is about to experience her first anal orgasm. Stretched and aroused a maximum, Jenny rolls her hips. She reaches down a hand to pet her comely, wet clit. Harry rubs her breasts, whose areolas are hard and puckered and her nipples are swollen and standing erect as sentries at attention. She feels thunder followed by blinding lightning as cause and effect reverse and her libido explodes into a hallucination not less breathtaking than a Fourth of July fireworks display. They come together as a supernova, so bright as to be seen in the daytime sky. Chapter Eleven: Dora's Repairs "Men are like Linoleum. If you lay them well, you can walk on them for the next 30 years." ---Grace Kelly. Dora the gynoid follows Roy Hopkins from his job at the Golden Days retirement complex to his apartment. She managed to escape from the complex by thwarting the alarm system on an emergency exit door. Her left arm hangs useless, as a result of the bullets fired into her by Robert Reeves, security chief for the Fossil Fuel Fellowship. She is in need of repairs. But the F-Cubed is searching for her. They consider her a rogue and would like nothing better than to retire her with extreme prejudice. Dora knocks on Roy's door. He looks through the peephole and lets her in. "What happened to you?" Roy asks. "I got shot in the chest by that assassin Bob," Dora answers. She notices Roy's facial expression and surmises that he is interested in assisting her. She then lays out her plan. "I need to find an undercover repair service. Bob and others will be searching for me and they will do me in for sure if they find me. If you will help me now I'll be yours forevermore." Any sober, serious, student of psychology would know that this simply isn't the case. A machine, even a gynoid, cannot be expected to keep a promise "forever." But the ruse will get the necessary repairs. "How can I find an undercover repair place?" Roy asks. "You have a dealer who gets you marijuana, right?" Dora asks. "Yes," Roy responds, "but..." "No if's, and's, and but's about it," Dora interjects. "That is if you like this one?" Dora slaps her ass and wiggles it. Roy calls his dope dealer and gains the needed information. "But this is expensive," Roy objects. "Never mind," Dora responds. She opens an access portal and fetches a small black cloth sack of precious stone: diamonds, emeralds, star sapphires, and rubies. "This is the leprechaun's 'pot of gold.'" "Where did you come by these?" Roy inquires. "Never mind," Dora replies. "The cut of the stones is nineteenth and twentieth century. They could have come from old jewelry. There would be no laser identification on them. These will fetch big bucks and easily afford my repairs and even a serious upgrade. Wouldn't you love a sexbot of your very own, handsome?" Roy is hopelessly hooked. The two take a taxicab to a nondescript warehouse. Once there, they approach a steel door. A thin, unshaven face peeps from a sliding panel. It is Tom, an underground robot repair person. He is expecting the duo. One look at Dora and he opens the door. "You must be Roy and Dora," Tom states. "I hope that you know that repairs to a late model gynoid should best be done at the factory. And I have a backlog of sexbots waiting right now. You got money?" "Try this," Dora exclaims. She walks over to a nearby counter, pushes the potpourri of resisters, transistors, circuit boards, and miscellaneous computer chips aside. She finds a dark rag and dumps the contents of a small black bag of precious gemstones. "Dick," Tom calls his associate over, "come look at this." Dick comes over and takes an eyepiece to examine the stones. "The diamonds are a classic cut," Dick observes, "easy to unload. The rubies are synthetic, not too valuable. The diamonds and the star sapphire are over two carats. Whatever you want done, this will cover it. Tom, start work right now on this gynoid." Tom agrees and examines the two bullet wounds in Dora's chest. "Glock nine millimeter, methinks," Tom narrates. "Internal work needs doing. The remedial shutdown saved you but now we need some new parts." "Install armor sheeting," Dora orders. "You're paying for it," Tom replies. Roy paces around nervously. There are all manner of robots, androids, gynoids, sexbots, and even some wetware here. For sure most aren't legal either. Dora winks at Roy. This calms him measurably. He now thinks of having a lifetime affair with Dora. 21 Oct 2011 Taunus Trumbo F_Cubed Pt. 03 Part III Chapter Twelve: The Strategy Harry Sloan escaped from the F-Cube security men Robert Reeves and Stanley Smythe. In so doing, he acquired a briefcase and two thick wads of large currency US Treasury notes. The large currency notes were made necessary following the devaluation of the dollar and hyperinflation. The lower denomination bills, except for the "Franklin hundred," which is the smallest banknote accepted in vending machines, are: Five Hundred Dollars, William McKinley; One Thousand Dollars, Grover Cleveland; Five Thousand Dollars, James Madison; and, Ten Thousand Dollars, Salmon P. Chase. The $5,000 and $10,000 notes are large and difficult to cash. But soon they will become common currency as inflation continues to take its toll. The Congress of the United States of America, unable to balance its budget and curb profligate spending, resorts to the printing press to pay its bills and debts. Robert Reeves, Stanley Smythe, Kate Stump, and Dina the gynoid are meeting in one of the offices of the F-Cubed Tower. The tower building is a grotesque, huge box of a building, mostly unoccupied. It stands as a testimony to the hegemony of fossil fuel over the economy and government of the country. The four are seated around a large table, cluttered with electronic devices, paper, charts, and small thumb drives. Kate assumes a facilitator role. "We have problems," Kate begins. "What has been done so far?" "Khannibal has canceled Harry Sloan's pension payments," Bob volunteered. "But he has a slug of cash, nonetheless," Stan interjects. "Yeah, our money," Bob retorts, "if you hadn't let him get the drop on you we would have him in custody now." "Only because he hit you with his crutch," Stan responds. Kate stifles a giggle. "His walker," Bob barks back, "not a crutch." Kate can't help but laugh. "I find it hard to believe that the F-Cubed conglomerate is expending all these resources on a seventy-eight year old curmudgeon who is suffering from Parkinson's disease and chronic rheumatoid arthritis, to name a few ailments. Would one of you geniuses please enlighten me!" "There is a significant probability," Dina begins, "that the next congressional election will see an overturn of the political parties as the electorate, disgusted with profligate inflation and reckless spending, may elect new members who are not friendly to the cause of the Fossil Fuel Fellowship. Democracies are prone to such behavior when a small minority controls most of the capital of a nation. Confounding the issue is one possible solution. F-Cubed seeks to defuse the upsurge with promises of technological solutions. But only such solutions that are guaranteed to fall short of being a viable solution. This passes between the horns of the dilemma as opposed to severe austerity measures that grasp the dilemma by its horns. The populace is not disposed to any fiscal belt-tightening." "So?" Kate complains. "Set the old fucker up to fail and forget it." "Easier said than done," Bob interjects. "A premature ejaculation went to the press." Stan chuckles at Bob's spoonerism. Bob blushes and corrects himself: "It was a premature publication, not ejaculation." "No matter," Kate continues, "all we need to do is to locate the principals, retire Dora with extreme prejudice, get the story out of Jenny, and locate Mr. Sloan. We need to retrieve the weapons and the briefcase and get him over to the 'Four Score Club' for his processing." "Four Score is eighty," Dina responds. "We know that," Bob grumbles. "It's when a pensioner becomes a subsister. The end of the Golden Years." "Now I am confused," Kate complains. "Why bother with this old subsister? Just take and use his thesis---what was it called?---and push the product. 'Neutron decomposition?" "Proton decomposition," Dina interjects. She then goes on to describe the various theoretical arguments. No one is listening. "Enough," Bob retorts eying Dina. "The masses of asses will be led to believe that there is hope for clean, copious, cheap energy. The arguments, theoretical and complicated, will be debated. We have our experts who will claim that it is plausible. When experts argue, who is one to believe? What we cannot abide is some old farter to come along and say that his theory doesn't work. Well, it won't work. But that's not for him to say. And, since we tossed him out of graduate school half a century ago, there isn't much we can offer him now. Except the Big Vacation." "Oh I see," Kate speaks. "We have a theory that will fail but we don't want it to be known that it will fail until after the next election. So the copyright holder must not be allowed to spill the beans. And, for sure, there will be an IPO and a 'Pump and Dump' to fatten the coffers of F-Cubed." "Good girl," Bob responds. He looks to Dina and comments: "Now I'm horny. Come to a vacant office with me, Dina. Time for service." "Yes, Master," Dina replies. The two exit the conference room and enter a vacant office. Most of the F-Cubed tower, a boxy, boring behemoth, is empty space. The building was built to impress, not express. Dina is a gynoid, well versed in all that is needed to satisfy a human male. Like all gynoids (fembots, sexbots) she is able to change hair, eyes, skin, complexion, and attitude. She cannot easily change her height or weight, however. Dina is 35(B)-25-35. Dina, like Dora and all other gynoids of her version or later, transcend the uncanny valley. They would be totally indistinguishable from human beings were it not for their need to recharge periodically and their need to replenish their supply of liquid Nitrogen. Dina also carries a complement of pheromones and scents, guaranteed to enthrall, enrapture, and enchant the male of the species. Once alone with a human male, Dina is quickly able to spin a web from which no masculine mind can escape. Dina does not need a verbal command to undress. In the unoccupied suite she gyrates and undulates in a dance that would make Salome's Dance of the Seven Veils before King Herod pale by comparison. She also has a chameleon-like ability to change the hue and texture of her synthetic skin to enhance the environment. Her perfectly toned body glistens with a sheen of sensual sweat, a virtual perspiration of arousal. Bob's black hearts beats a tattoo in his own ears. He pulls his clothes off and pounces on the love machine. His mighty member enters her vagina, which undulates and pulses in perfect synch with his penetration. Bob's foul-smelling penis bathes in a delight of chemicals, turning an unwashed tool into a refined organ. Back in the conference room Kate has an opportunity to interrogate Stanley Smythe. "Well, Stan," Kate begins, "just how to you suppose that Dora went rogue on us? It looks like an 'inside job' to me." Stan is sweating. "Maybe a hacker?" he suggests. "Or the clean coal division. There is always animosity between coal and the umbrella F-Cube consortium." "Argument noted," Kate concludes. "If I discover the one who gave Dora administrative privileges, I'm going to grab his balls and twist them. I will squeeze the truth out of him even if I have to crush his testicles. Is that perfectly clear?" "Y-yes Mam," Stan utters. "This is a mess," Kate continues. "We planned to set Mr. Sloan up and fund his theory to placate the masses. Then something went terribly wrong. What should have been an absolutely non-workable pipe dream showed actual promise. Then we could not chance that hoary old curmudgeon letting the cat out of the bag by denying it's functionality. We sent you two professionals, who got your asses whipped by a seventy-eight year old cripple with a walker. And what happened to Jenny? And how did Dora get away?" "It does look bad, doesn't it," Stan confesses. "It sure as shit does," Kate agrees. "Now there is a thread. Somehow Dora must have known that you were coming to the retirement complex. I suspect that dope-smoking desk clerk Roy Hopkins. As soon as Bob gets his rock soft on Dina, let's pay Mr. Hopkins a 'courtesy call.' Don't you agree?" "Yes Mam," Stan replies. Chapter Thirteen: Dora is Located To Roy, it was like a dream come true. Under any other circumstances a person of his estate and social position would never have a gynoid, especially one of Dora's version and model. She prepared him scrumptious meals, cleaned everything, and gave him sex better than any human girl might. And, best of all, she never said "no." But like all good things it was destined to end. A large black limousine pulls up beside Roy's apartment. Three figures exit and one remains behind the wheel. The chauffeur is Dina, a gynoid. Stan carries a briefcase, attached to his wrist with a cuff and a chain. Bob and Kate make their way to the door. They knock loudly. Kate shows a forged police badge to the peep hole. There is no reply. Stan picks the lock and the three entered. Supper is fixed and served, the table is set. A window to the fire escape is open. Dora has escaped. Kate puts an index finger to her lips. Roy is entering. Bob pulls his piece and aims it at a terrified Roy Hopkins as Stan closes the door. "Where is the sexbot?" Bob demands. "I'm only asking this once." "She's not here?" Roy replies. He looks to the open window. "Gone, oh no." Roy is clearly upset with his loss. Kate shows her "badge" and asks Roy: "You want us to run you in? The only way that you're staying out of jail is to tell us where Dora is." "I don't know," Roy responds, "she must have left. I don't know where she could be now." "You got her fixed somewhere," Bob barks, "what about that?" "Ah," Roy hesitates. Roy knows that he will be in a pretty pickle if her reveals the location of the underground chop shop. Kate pulls out a Taser Gun(tm) and points it at Roy. "Wait a second, I think I know." Roy spills the beans. The trio depart to chase down Dora; but, not before trashing Roy's apartment and demolishing his cell phone and his land line. Time is definitely on their side. Chapter Fourteen: Dora is Captured Tom stares out of the peephole in amazement. There is an unattended gynoid. She is familiar, but he can't place her at the moment. "I'm Roy's girl Dora," Dora pleads, "please let me in. They are after me." "Who are 'they'?" Tom asks. He knows that he can not stand to have a fembot at the warehouse door. Still he wants to know what exactly what he is buying into. "You know," she responds, "F-Cubed." "Oh my fucking god," Tom murmurs. "This is the worst. Come in." He unbolts and opens the door. "Why couldn't you just have committed some random felony?" "I don't know where else to go," Dora answers. "Is there a problem?" "You don't know the half of it, girl," Tom retorts. He motions to a huge collection of gembots, gynoids, sexbots, skins, parts, equipment, and clutter. "Go change skins and mix into that crowd over there. Were you followed?" "No, Sir," Dora speaks as she looks through the available skins. "I was careful." "But the F-Cubed will find you," Tom states, "even if they have to torture Roy. I can only hope that he buys us a little time." Then Tom shouts to his partner Dick: "Armor up, put on that Cyborg suit, we are about to have a confrontation with the dark side." Dick wastes no time in climbing into a heavily armored cyborg. The chess pieces move into position, soon it will be time for the fireworks to begin. Tom and Dick expect the people from F-Cubed to arrive at the front door to the warehouse and negotiate. They wait a few minutes. Unbeknown to them, Stan and Dina have placed a large explosive device to the side of the warehouse. The explosion detonates and blows a hole in the wall. When the dust settles, four individuals are outlined. Bob, Stan, Kate, and Dina enter. Bob and Stan have their Glocks, Kate is sporting an exotic rail gun, and Dina, the gynoid, has a 50 caliber pistol. Dick is in the armored suit with a 12 gauge shotgun. Tom and Dick see at once that they are out numbered and out gunned. The rail gun and the 50 caliber pistol will each pierce Disk's armor and Tom is defenseless. "Turn her over and turn her over right now," Kate Stump demands. It is clear that there would be injuries on both sides in a shootout. It is also clear that time is not on Tom's side. The explosion will bring the authorities sooner or later, hopefully later. Moreover, the F-Cubed has plenty of police on their payroll. "That was overreacting blowing a hole in the frigging wall lassie!" Tom exclaims. "Now the bloody authorities will see all our wares and we are out a fortune." "Be grateful to get out with your skins," Bob states. "We could have just bombed this place and called it a gas leak." "Well," Tom responds, "it does seem like we have a bit of a Mexican standoff here. Dick and I may end up with a Class-F Misdemeanor or so but there's no getting your gynoid out of the herd without our help. And first responders to this explosion won't take all day." A few tense minutes pass. Then, out of a gaggle of lifeless sexbots and gynoids, Dora appears. She takes a few steps and freezes. She is rebooting her software. In only a few seconds she will be nothing more than a blank disk. All, except Dina, are surprised. "What the fuck is going on here?" Kate asks. "She cannot allow a human to be harmed on her account," Dina explains, "so she did an Initial Program Load (IPL). She is back to the factory default. We may as well leave her here as take her with us. At least she will have no memory or knowledge of our operations." "Take her," Dick begs, "for Christ's sake. Take this fembot. The last thing we need here is stolen property. We are already ruined." "Time is short," Bob utters coarsely. "Let's beat feet out of here. Dina, can you lock onto Dora and get her to the car?" "Yes, Sir," the gynoid Dina replies. The five depart. Sirens are heard approaching. "At least we have Dora," Kate remarks. "Mr. Sloan and Jenny have no idea that she is deprogrammed. We can resurrect enough to use her as bait, I'm sure. And Roy is so smitten with her that he will believe anything for a piece of sexbot ass." Chapter Fifteen: Harry and Jenny Chat "I never even let anyone touch my rosette before you," Jenny whispers to Harry. "But with you it seemed so natural. I felt as though my Taboo Treasure Trove was a perfect submission." Now together in bed, Harry is unable to achieve an erection. The initial adrenalin rush has subsided. Now the Parkinson's disease and rheumatoid arthritis is taking its toll. Aside from shaking, Parkinson's disease is characterized by incontinence, constipation, and erectile dysfunction---impotence. Jenny gets out of bed and starts getting dressed. "I'm sorry," Harry mutters. "Don't be," Jenny remarks. "Today I go to the Four Score Club," Harry says sadly. "Not that, you have time," Jenny retorts. "There's no fighting it. The F-Cubed will eventually find us. It will go badly for you. Take these wads of currency. I'll just take taxicab fare and a couple of large notes---Salmon P. Chase notes---to grease the skids. That should do it." "I wish that you would change your mind," Jenny pleads, "sex isn't everything." Harry Sloan speaks: "True, but it beats out what's in second place a lot. Besides, there are no limits to what the F-Cubed will stoop to in order to maintain its hegemony over energy. They already own the government lock, preferred stock, and oil barrel. If they want a particular spin on some energy source or another, then it happens. But you had better look after yourself. You have about fifty extra-extra large there. It's enough to get you started elsewhere. There is a copy of the dissertation in a safety deposit box. We could stop by the bank on the way, if you think we can avoid being detected." Harry continues: "These guns won't make it into the bank, nor will this briefcase. I recommend wiping them and leaving them here. The police will come and seize them. This should hold F-Cubed up explaining why some of these items are in private hands." "You have a good point there," Jenny agrees. "I'll take the dissertation and we will part company at the bank. There's no changing your mind about the Four Score Club?" "None whatsoever," Harry concludes. "Just check the obituaries in the morning." 27 Oct 2011 Taunus Trumbo F_Cubed Pt. 04 Part IV Chapter Sixteen: The Meeting "Did you get the morning obituaries?" Kate Stump asked the assembled team, consisting of herself, Robert Reeves, Stanley Smythe, Dina the gynoid, and the newly reprogrammed bot Dora. "Yeah," Bob answered. "So Harry Sloan cashed in his chips. This ought to settle the matter. What's left to do?" "We have a loose end," Kate announces, "we need to locate and question Jennifer Coddingham. Technically she is still an employee of F-Cubed; no one has filed a missing person's report on her. And none of us here will. I understand that she is not close to her family." "I have a detailed report on her," Dina interjects. "It is thorough and complete. It even details her sexual wants, desires, fears, and limits. Such information should be useful in interrogation." All agree. Jenny is a beautiful woman. "Well," Kate coarsely remarks, "we didn't screw up this time. Mr. Sloan is no more and Dora is returned for reprogramming. Just one blonde bimbo to locate. That shouldn't be hard. The only problem I see is that she has a wad of currency, maybe up to 70 extra-extra large. That will last her for a while. Once she uses anything electronic, we will have her. Any suggestions as to where she might be?" "I suggest that she may be joining up with the tree-huggers in Oregon," Stan suggests. "She seemed disillusioned with F-Cubed conglomerate and appeared likely to join the opposition. I bet that she is on a commercial carrier, a bus, up there now. That's where the opposition is located. And, fortunately, we have some confidential informants and Quislings there." All smile and nod. The ecological terrorists have been infiltrated by those seeking some pecuniary reward for their infidelity, treachery, and treason. "I am on it," Dina responds. "Checking attractive females purchasing bus tickets to Oregon for cash now. Building data base with facial recognition, fingerprints, and voice where possible.' "It's good to have things back to normal," Bob boasts, "Kate, you will submit a favorable report to Mr. England I hope." "Yes," Kate replies, with the codicil that the one loose end is being taken care of. Chapter Seventeen: Jenny is Captured Jenny makes good her escape from the city and heads to the place most inhabited by ecologists and eco-terrorists: Oregon. There she takes a bus to a small town in the northeast part of the state. As usual there are vigils and meetings. Jenny expects that she will soon be inducted into one of the activist circles. And it comes to pass. She feels like she has much to offer, knowing the inner workings of F-Cubed. Soon the eco-terrorists have struck at the communications center and pipeline assets of the Fossil Fuel Fellowship. Who would expect that the Federal Bureau of Investigation is the major dues-payer of the eco-terrorists. They have a maximum of confidential informants (CI). Such is the way of the world. It was only a matter of time before Jenny was identified to the F-Cubed conglomerate. Bob, Stan, and Dina the gynoid are dispatched to abduct her. Chapter Eighteen: Slave Jenny in Day One Jennifer Coddingham is a twenty-something year old woman. She betrayed the Fossil Fuel Fellowship (F-Cubed) after learning of their nefarious activities. She has been apprehended and is being incarcerated and punished. Jenny struggles in and out of black unconsciousness. The dim light of the room is excruciatingly painful. She seems to recall flashes from the unconscious. Perhaps she has awakened and fell back into the blackness several times? At last her vision stabilizes. She feels the handcuffs pinning her wrists behind her back. Her face smarts as do her breasts. She assumes that she was roughly treated. Then she feels a sudden sharp pain in her clitoris. She screams, attracting the attention of Dora, the gynoid, who is charging her batteries at an opposite wall. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Jenny," Dora greets. "You have been out on and off for three days. Ready for something to eat?" Jenny groans and tries to clear her head. "The cuffs come off now," Dora continues. "You were so violent. And, while I was charging I couldn't chance an interruption." "Where am I and how did I get here?" Jenny asks. "This is the F-Cubed Tower building," Dora answers. "More correctly, it is the basement of the tower building. You will be kept here. I have been assigned as your Mistress. You are a slave girl now. Your training will begin now." "My training?" Jenny asks. Dora nods. "You will address me as 'Mistress' and only speak when spoken to or given permission to speak. You will always refer to yourself in the third person. Do you understand?" Dora inquires. "Yes," Jenny answers, then quickly adds: "Mistress." "Good girl," Dora responds. "And for men, they are addressed as 'Master.' There is much to teach you, but basically you beg for everything... water, food, permission to urinate, defecate, and cum to mention a few." "To cum, Mistress?" Jenny asks. "Yes, girl," Dora replies. "You will be trained to hold your orgasm and later you will be trained to climax on command. You will have no privacy. When you are permitted to sit on the toilet, you must maintain eye contact with your Master or Mistress. Does a girl want some food and water now?" Dora notices that Jenny is regaining her composure. "Yes, Mistress," Jenny responds. Dora sets about fixing her some oatmeal with milk and orange juice. The breakfast rejuvenates Jenny and she begins taking inventory of the room. There is a toilet, face basin, shower, and sink to one side of the room, opposite the bed. There are chains hanging from the ceiling and a floor ring in the center of the room. A table contains a variety of sex toys, whips, dildos, and the like. Jenny shudders at the thought of being used. She looks over Dora, no longer her own agent. Dora, once again, is managed by F-Cubed. Jenny knows that trying to overpower Dora would be futile. "When a girl is finished with her breakfast, she will defecate and urinate," Dora orders. "Yes, Mistress," Jennifer answers. She eats slowly, still recovering from the black unconscious. She is naked and slowly begins to notice red marks and stripes. No doubt she was roughly treated while unconscious, or semi-conscious. Jenny is uncomfortable sitting on the toilet and making eye contact with Dora. Dora is one of the newer generations of gynoids which have transcended the uncanny valley. Were it not for her need to recharge and acquire liquid Nitrogen, Dora would be indistinguishable from a live human girl. That's not totally true---there is the weight of the gynoid also. The Titanium and other metal components are very heavy. Jenny urinates and strains to defecate. She is self-conscious and embarrassed. Dora waits patiently, as if patience was only a human virtue, and at last speaks: "Come over here and spread your ass cheeks, girl. I will insert a glycerin suppository to aid you in your need." Jenny blushes scarlet. She is terribly self-conscious about her anus. The only one to ever touch her rosette, aside from a doctor, is Harry Sloan, now deceased. Jenny complies, fearing the consequences of refusal. "You must hold it for fifteen minutes, no less," Dora commands. Dora leads Jenny to a corner and has her face the wall and stand at military Parade Rest. After Jenny has "done her business" Dora runs a series of medical and sensory tests on her. Jenny is still somewhat exhausted, but recovering. Then Dora issues a command to Jenny: "Robert Reeves is on his way here. We need to get your hands tied above your head and your legs spread apart." Dora lowers a chain from the ceiling and cuffs Jenny's hands above her head. A two foot leg spreader locks her legs apart. Bob makes his entry and sees the suspended girl. "You are even more attractive conscious, Jenny. Now I will tell you what will happen." Bob smiles and approaches Jenny. He pinches her nipples between thumbs and forefingers. Jenny groans. Just now she realizes how sore and swollen her nipples and areolas really are. Bob explains: "You will beg for anal penetration---digitally with fingers, with butt plugs and dildos, and for my penis. This will be audio and video recorded and posted on the Internet under the title 'Jennifer Coddingham Loves Anal.' Anyone with Internet access will be able to watch and listen." "Never!" Jenny blurts out. "No way I'm begging for something I don't want. And get your filthy hands off of me you disgusting pervert." Jenny spits in Bob's face. Bob bitch-slaps Jenny's face. She now totally realizes how helpless she is. He slaps her other cheek. Then her pinches her areolas between thumbs and forefingers. "I have all the time in the world for you, Jenny," Bob states. "I can pinch, pull, and twist these teats until my hands grow tired. Would you like that Jenny?" Jenny frowns and considers what to say. At last her mind clears and she responds: "No Master." Bob pinches her areolas harder and twists them. Jenny screams. Dora cautions Jenny: "You may only cry out when permitted, girl." Bob pulls Jenny's teats and slaps them hard. He slaps each breast five times then pinches the nipples. He pinches them harder and harder until tears flow from Jenny's eyes. "Does it hurt, girl?" Bob asks. "You know it does, Master," Jenny answers. Bob continues: "I love women's breasts. They are so soft and tender. There are so many ways to pinch, pull, and twist them. One can use only the nipples or areolas or the fleshy body. When bruised and swollen, they are even better. I will order Dora to slap each of your breasts a dozen times each morning when you first wake up. But the best is the belt." Having said that, Bob removes his leather belt. Jenny's eyes widen as she sees the belt. Bob swings the belt wide and strikes Jenny's left breast. He frowns, having struck low and missed the areola. Jenny tries to pull back, but the overhead chain allows her little freedom of movement. Bob swings again, this time leaving a red mark across her nipple and areola. Jenny screams out in pain. Bob wastes no time in whipping her right breast. "I can enjoy doing this all day long," Bob relates. "But there are other parts to consider." Bob reaches down and pinches Jenny's tiny clit between his right thumb and forefinger. Jenny suddenly realizes how swollen and bruised her clitoris is. Bob explains: "I used a clit pump on your clit while you were unconscious, Jenny. It sucks the clit up into a tube and makes it expand, swollen with blood and lymph. Then it will be many times more sensitive. Let's try the clit pump now." Bob smiles. He goes over to the table and returns with a cylinder and plunger. He pushes the cylinder over Jenny's clit and pulls the piston back, applying suction. Whoever invented this device? It appears to be used to increase the size and sensitivity of the clitoris. "Are you feeling better about begging for your ass to be used?" Bob asks. "After all, it's just stretching and penetration. There's none of this whipping and punishment. You just convince everyone that you love anal and play with toys. Then a little doggie and butt fuck. Of course you must have a total and complete anal orgasm for the camera." Jenny shakes her head "no." Then she notices Dora frowning and adds: "Master." "Well," Bob remarks, "with time your teats and pussy will change your mind. And there are still the needles and electricity to apply. That will come tomorrow. I'm sure that you will eventually come around to my point of view." Bob pulls the clit pump and Jenny tries to lean forward. "Good girl, push forward." Bob works a dildo into Jenny's vagina. She suddenly finds herself aroused and wet. When she feels near an orgasm, Bob jerks and twists the clit pump cylinder. Finally, with a jerk he pulls the device from Jenny. Jenny convulses in pain. Bob turns to Dora and speaks: "Let her hang for four hours then feed her and let her sleep. Explain to her that the total surrender of her anus is her best situation." Bob laughs a wicked laugh. Chapter Nineteen: Slave Jenny in Day Two The morning came much too soon. Jenny hopes that Dora has forgotten Bob's command to slap each of her breasts twelve times. Jenny's breasts are turgid; her areolas are tumescent; and her comely clitoris is swollen, distended, and engorged. She is in much pain. Dora notices her awakening and asks: "Does a girl wish to be bound before having her breasts slapped? Sometimes it's easier than to have to stand at military Parade Rest and present herself." Jenny gulped. She can see where Dora is starting breakfast and is anxious to get this ordeal over with. She considers the options. After ruminating over the situation and accepting the fact that the breast slapping is inevitable, she replies: "Mistress may bind me." Dora brings four restraints and spreads Jenny out on the bed, ankles and wrists tied to the four corners. She then kisses Jenny. Jenny feels the warm, wet tongue press her lips and allows Dora to invade her mouth. Now the only orifice not defiled and penetrated by man or machine is her Glory of Glories. Jenny's vagina, her Holy of Holies, is damp again. Dora has secreted pheromones, endorphins, and hormones into Jenny's mouth to arouse and excite her. "Breathe deeply and exhale completely, girl," Dora orders. "With empty lungs you are less prone to scream; however, you are permitted to cry out." Dora waits for Jenny to exhale completely then she begins slapping one breast and then the other. Jenny convulses in pain and drools. Tears flow freely. Dora licks the salty tears from Jenny's crimson red cheeks. The slapping continues. At last it is done. Jenny's breasts, sore and swollen from the start, are discolored and hard with congested blood and lymph. Dora releases Jenny and invites her to breakfast. Jenny forces herself to eat. After breakfast Dora orders Jenny to the toilet. She sits and urinates. Again she has trouble making poop. Dora commands Jenny to bend over and present her brown star for the glycerin suppository. Then Dora positions Jenny in a corner standing at Parade Rest. "You will hold the suppository for no less than one-half hour, girl," Dora commands. Jenny now realizes that her torment will increase until she is able to obey the command to defecate. After ten minutes Jenny is miserable. The last five minutes of the half hour are pure misery. She struggles to avoid having an "accident." At last she is permitted the toilet. With difficulty she makes and holds eye contact. Dora's eyes are lenses to a video studio. Every movement of Jenny is recorded and preserved. When she is done, Jenny looks around for the toilet paper. It has been removed. She looks up to Dora. "May a girl wipe herself, Mistress?" She requests. "No, girl," Dora replies, "I will clean you. Bend over and present yourself as a small girl." Jenny is embarrassed and humiliated. "This is so mortifying," Jenny states. "Why can't I cleanse myself?" She then rephrases: "Why can't a girl clean herself, Mistress." "That is not the way it is here, Jenny," Dora instructs. "Spread wider!" Dora uses a damp rag to scrub Jenny's derriere. She is none too gentle about the ablution either. "Oh, Mistress," Jenny begs, "be gentle." Jenny wonders why her anus has been spared while her breasts and clit have been severely punished. "You would do well to obey Master Bob, girl," Dora advises. "You will publicly and openly plead for your ass to be used. It will not be as painful as the torture that you are now experiencing. Believe you me that Master Bob will not give up until he gets his way. They have run a psychological profile on you and know that once you start begging for anal on the Internet your mortification and humiliation will be complete. There is no escape from here, girl. You must know that by now." Dora lets Jenny rest for a while. Then she announces that Bob is returning and binds Jenny's hands above her head and spreads her legs two feet apart at the ankles. "How are those breasts this morning, girl?" Bob asks. He notices how swollen the teats are, dark red, bruised, and tumescent. "They hurt very much, Master," Jenny replies. "Even to be kissed?" Bob asks. His wicked, sinister, evil lips kiss, lick, and suck her nipples. She squirms and twists to avoid him, without success. Then he removes his belt. Jenny blanches, expecting him to whip her breasts again. But instead he runs the belt back and forth over her vulva. "Tomorrow your breasts will be hard and sensitive. Today I work that pussy. That is, unless you have decided to embrace your anal wonderland." Bob chuckles. Again and again the black leather belt whips her vulva and inner thighs. Jenny struggles to avoid the swats and smacks without success. She tries to keep from screaming but cannot. After about a dozen blows she yells bloody murder! "Are you ready to become my little anal queen?" Bob asks. "Master, please don't whip me anymore," she begs. "Yes or no?" Bob asks. "Can a girl think about it?" Jennifer pleads. "OK, fine," Bob retorts, "you have the rest of the day. If the answer is 'no' then expect the inflatable butt plug as your constant companion. Dora will let you have a sample." Bob then turns to Dora: "Plug her and inflate her. Increase the pressure each hour for four hours. Then remove the plug. Let her consider it as a 24/7 means of inducement. And let her understand that she will have enemas instead of suppositories. She will be allowed only fifteen minutes a day on the toilet." Bob leaves the room. Dora goes over to the table of toys and playthings and gets an inflatable butt plug. It is teardrop shaped with a round base stand. Dora applies K.Y. Jelly and walks behind Jenny. "Relax, girl," Dora commands. "This won't hurt if you relax." "I'm too small and tight," Jenny complains. "And how can a girl relax when someone is shoving something up her ass?" "It's going in," Dora explains. "Do you want to be unconscious when it is inserted?" "Yes, Mistress," Jenny responds. Dora goes to the medicine cabinet and brings back a three ounce cup of water and a pill. Jenny opens her mouth and receives the pill, washing it down. In about five minutes she hangs motionless. Dora spreads her glorious hemispheres and eases the butt plug into her Glory of Glories. It is almost an hour later before Jenny recovers from the drug. She senses the device. "It's almost time to increase the pressure," Dora says, squeezing the black bulb. Jenny feels a maximum of discomfort. "The next three times I inflate will be much worse. You really need to consider Master Bob's offer. I'm sure that he won't give up until he gets his way. After you have been hanging here and your anus is painfully distended then maybe you will come around." Things transpired as Dora predicts. At the time for final inflation, Jenny screams and cries. "I agree, I agree, no more Mistress, I'll be Bob's dirty little anal slut. Just stop stretching me and get me down from this chain." Chapter Twenty: Slave Jenny in Day Three The third morning came. Jenny can hardly stand to touch her breasts. She remembers all that Master Bob had said. She also remembers him telling about needles and other things. As she looks up Dora is beginning to strap her arms and legs in preparation for her breast slapping. "A girl thought that when she agreed to be a dirty anal slut that this breast slapping would cease," Jenny pleaded. "Only when Master Bob hears it for himself," Dora replies. Jenny gulps. She wonders if she can remain conscious, considering the condition of her teats. Once bound Dora starts slapping. After the fourth smack Jenny blacks out, only to be awakened by being bitch-slapped in her face. "A girl must be conscious," Dora commands. And the breast slapping continues. At last it is done and Jenny is fed and prepared for the day. F_Cubed Pt. 04 Bob enters and sees Jenny stretched out, hands cuffed above her head. He walks over and cups his hands under her breasts. Jenny cries. "Well, has a girl decided?" Bob asks. "Yes, Master," Jenny answers. "A girl will be your nasty, dirty, filthy little anal slut. She will show off her nictitating brown star to the universe and experience anal orgasms, if permitted." "My, my," Bob remarks. "We have had success now haven't we. Dora, release Jenny and let her rest. Some chocolates and some aspirin to relieve her pain. And help her compose her supplications and oblations for anal sex." Bob smiles, this is a red-letter day for him, to be sure. Chapter Twenty-One: Slave Jenny in Day Four The next morning breaks and Jenny is allowed breakfast without the torment of having her breasts slapped by Dora. After breakfast she is seated on the toilet. She is able to urinate but too sore to defecate from the inflatable butt plug. She knows that she will have to endure a glycerin suppository again. "Does a gorgeous girl have trouble making poop?" Dora inquires. "Yes, Mistress," Jenny replies. Jenny expects to have to present her derriere to Dora but instead is motioned to a bench. "I have prepared a warm vinegar and soap enema for a girl," Dora explains. It is a two liter bag for you, Jenny." Jennifer looks bewildered with large eyes. "That---that's not going in my ass, is it?" Jenny asks. She quickly adds: "Mistress." "Yes," Dora answers. "From the initial insert you have fifteen minutes before the second bag. This gets repeated three times. I guarantee that you will be washed clean for anal service. It's good that you are too shy to poop without some help. You make the perfect asshole." Bob makes his entry earlier than usual. Jenny is seated on the toilet. Bob enjoys having her make eye contact. After the third enema Dora orders Jenny to hold the solution, now almost clear, until Bob allows her to release it. Bob smiles. "A girl may shit right after she cums," Bob announces. Jennifer quivers. She is in no mood for sex. Dora hands her a large plastic dildo. Jennifer's clit is sore and bruised from the clit pump. She has trouble getting aroused. As she nears a climax, Bob cups his hands under her breasts and gently squeezes. The pain is excruciating and severe. Her arousal is dampened. Now more and more she is feeling the pressure of the enema in her bowels. She struggles to cum against a pain threshold and the possibility of an "accident." At long last she is able to cum. "Do tell your desires, girl," Bob commands. "Please fuck me in the butt, Master," Jenny begs. "A girl wants it in her ass so badly." "Doesn't sound too convincing too me," Bob complains. "But I said 'please' Master," Jenny replies. "Oh, OK, A girl would be honored to have you push three fingers into her rectum or a huge butt plug or, should she be so lucky, your huge penis, Master." "Better," Bob remarks. "By tomorrow develop a whole script of pleading and begging for anal penetration and be prepared to masturbate anally. Now there is just one more detail. You need to shave your underarms and pussy. Dora will give you an electric razor---no blades. There is a spot of particular interest, however. That is the area around your anus and perineum. After you are cleaned up from the toilet Dora will pluck any hairs you have back there with eyebrow tweezers." "Yes, Master," Jenny replies. Her total humiliation and mortification is complete. She now realizes that every morning her anus will be examined, plucked, and exposed. She can only image the eyes of the Internet viewing her misery and submissiveness. 28 October 2011 Taunus Trumbo F_Cubed Pt. 05 Part V Chapter Twenty-Two: The Dissertation Dora is the gynoid mistress of the slave girl named Jennifer Coddingham. Jenny is being imprisoned in the basement of the F-Cubed building since she apostatized from the cause. Jenny was the office administratrix of the F-Cubed conglomerate, a job now filled by Kate Stump. Dora awakens Jenny. Jenny, naked as always, sleeps wrapped in a large brown wool blanket. She struggles to her feet. "Today we see Mr. England, girl," Dora informs Jenny. "He will expect some answers to several issues that trouble him. We need to prepare you for the interview." Jenny notices some items on the table of toys and playthings. "First we cuff your hands behind your back." Jenny assumes the binding position. The cuffs are locked tighter than usual but not too tight as to limit circulation. Then Dora brings a butt pack with three wires hanging from it. Dora fastens the cloth belt around Jenny's waist. The three wires dangle down the back of Jennifer's legs. There are metal alligator clips at the end of each wire. They are cold to the touch. "The butt pack contains some batteries and a remote control switch," Dora explains. "Electric current can pass between breasts or breasts and clitoris, or any combination. Once you are all wired up, I'll drape a brown robe with a hood over you. You will be ready for your interview then. Does a girl understand?" "Yes, Mistress," Jenny answers. These titty-clamps are large alligator clips. The sharp teeth dig in to the areola on Jenny's left breast. She yelps. Dora reminds her not to cry out. The second alligator clip is fastened onto her right breast. Dora reaches down and feels Jenny's clit. It is small and slippery. Dora realizes the difficulty in attaching the alligator clip to Jenny's clit. Something must be done. Dora has a solution to the problem of clipping the alligator clip to Jenny's clit. She will use the clit pump. The clit pump is a cylinder about the diameter of a dime. The cylinder fits over Jenny's clitoris. The opposite end has a one-way valve, allowing a vacuum but not permitting the suction to be reduced. Simply stated, the cylinder can suck the clit into it but to be removed it has to be pulled away. A hypodermic syringe attaches to the cylinder and the air inside is sucked out. Jenny endured the clit pump once before. The result was a muchly swollen and distended clit. The pain was intense. Whoever invented this device? It's only use seems to be to enlarge the clitoris by engorging it with blood and lymph. For sure the sensitivity will be increased but not necessarily the sensory arousal or sexual excitation. Jennifer knows that there is no escape. Dora gets the cylinder in position, making sure that the clit is completely inside the cylinder and that it makes a perfect seal with the flesh of her vulva. Jenny screams as the cylinder is deflated. Dora watches Jenny's clit expand, filling the lower quarter of the cylinder. There still isn't sufficient flesh to attach the alligator clamp. Dora repeats the evacuation of air a second time. Jenny's legs wobble and she urinates. The pain is intense and obscene. Dora watches and waits as Jenny's clit expands. Convinced that she has enough tissue, Dora pulls the cylinder with a jerk and clamps the third alligator clip onto the swollen, distended, enlarged clitoris. Jenny screams a second time as the small metal teeth bite deeply into her comely pearl. "Before I cover you with the robe of concealment, we need to check out the electrical connectivity," Dora states. "It will be minimum current. Just a sting, no more. But, in the conference room a girl may expect much more. She will remain standing and not cry out. Does a girl understand?" "Yes, Mistress," Jenny replies. Dora checks the connectivity. The jolts of electricity make Jenny convulse. The connections seem correct. Dora pulls the brown robe over Jenny and covers her head with the hood. She then walks Jenny to a corner and has her stand at Parade Rest until Robert Reeves and Stanley Smythe come to fetch her. At long last Bob and Stan arrive. Jenny has been facing a corner at Parade Rest the entire time. Her bare feet are cold on the floor. They ache. The four take a service elevator to the eleventh floor. The basement where Jenny is incarcerated isn't accessible via the passenger elevators. They enter a secured sector and go at once to room 1108. Mr. England is seated at the head of the table. At his right side is the administrative assistant, Kate Stump. Acting as Master at Arms is Dina, who is wearing a side arm and holding a large bore automatic rifle at port arms. Bob and Stan are uneasy entering the room. Dora is carrying the remote control module for Jenny. "I have called this meeting to wind up the last loose ends of the Harry Sloan affair," Mr. England announces: "We have floated an alternative non-polluting, non-radioactive renewable energy source with zero Carbon footprint. Experts disagree about its viability. This is good. When experts disagree, whom is one to listen to?" Kate has a nervous grin as she states the F-Cube position: "We wish to placate and soothe the revolutionary fever and spontaneous uprisings of the populace. We must convince the masses that we are searching for clean, cheap, copious energy. Coal is cheap and copious; two out of three _ain't_ bad. The only contestant is really natural gas, a sister fossil fuel. The plan of action is to present Mr. Harry Sloan's thesis on the decomposition of the proton. It will be well advertized and funded, at taxpayer expense. Then, after the elections are over, it will be determined to be impossible. What we do not want is for Mr. Harry Sloan to make a premature announcement on its non-viability. Equally, we do not want him to describe the underlying maths and equations to the researches which might lead to a viable solution." Some moments pass at the statements sink in. Mr. England speaks: "Come again, Kate, I'm still having trouble with all of this." "OK, fine," Kate remarks. "We want to appear to be working for a true solution to the energy conundrum. We fund an alternative which has some support and no hard objections. After the street protests and riots subside, we discover that the solution is intractable." "Intractable?" Bob asks. "It can't be made to work---or---we cannot get it to work no matter how hard we try," Kate explains. "To get this scene to play out, we can't have Mr. Harry Sloan, or anyone else for that matter, bring down this house of cards until we are done." "So we sell something that _don't_ work," Stan reasons, "and claim that it will work. Pocket the money. Then come back and say that it won't work after all. We made a goof. Sorry for your loss. Very clever. Only Harry Sloan or one of his disciples could upset the apple cart." "This brings us to the dissertation which was taken from Sloan's safety deposit box and not seen since. We already destroyed the Library of Congress copies. There is only one person who can fill in the final piece of the puzzle. She is a turncoat and a traitor. I am referring to Jennifer Coddingham." Mr. England narrates. Dora passes a strong electric current through Jenny's breasts and clit. She moans. Mr. England raises his hand to Dora drop the current. "Where is the dissertation Jenny?" Mr. England asks. "I'm only going to ask this one time." There is an hiatus. "I mailed it to the White House," Jenny answers. Kate, Bob, and Stan are outraged. Mr. England taps his gavel on the table. "Not to worry, not to worry," Mr. England calmly states. "Odds are good that it will be tossed in the recycling heap along with the junk mail. If it's a complicated technical paper the odds get even better. You have to understand how bureaucracies work---or don't work. Get Jenny back to the basement and back on the Internet. She needs to be everybody's porn star. Kate, begin the interrogation." Bob and Stan chuckle. Dora removes the brown woolen robe from Jenny. She is a beautiful woman. Her training under Dora has made her lean. Dora has put Jenny on a restricted calorie diet with much exercise and meditation. Dora checks the alligator clamps on Jenny's areolas and clitoris. The tiny metal teeth are dug in deep. Jenny squirms and wiggles as Dora touches each one in turn. Kate begins the questioning: "Do you think that fossil fuels are responsible for global warming, rising ocean levels, and climatic changes?" "Yes, Mistress," Jenny answers. Dora applies five seconds of shock to Jenny. Jenny manages somehow to remain standing. "Are you willing to reconsider?" Kate asks. "No, Mistress," Jenny responds. Dora applies ten seconds of shock. Bob and Stan hold Jenny from falling. She is trembling and shaking. She is drooling and urinating uncontrollably. Dora slaps her face to bring her back to reality. After a few seconds Jenny regains her composure. "Do you think that the Fossil Fuel Fellowship controls the government with bribes, threats, and blackmail?" Kate continues. "Yes, Mistress," Jenny replies. Again Dora applies five seconds of shock. Jenny's knees wobble but she stays upright, her hands behind her back and her legs spread. She is standing at Parade Rest, her eyes downcast. "Are you willing to reconsider?" Kate asks. There is a pause. Jenny knows that the next shock will be worse than the last. "Yes or No, girl," Kate asks. Bob and Stan stand ready to catch the girl should she tumble. Her skin is wet with the perspiration of pain and fear. Her legs are wet and smell of piss. "No, Mistress," Jenny finally answers. Dora applies a strong fifteen second shock to Jenny. Bob and Stan hold her upright. Tears flow from Jenny's eyes and she shakes uncontrollably. Kate smiles to Mr. England, who speaks: "Dora, you may work Jennifer Coddingham until she changes her mind. There are no limits and there is no safe word, except that she is not to be made to eat feces or be permanently scarred or injured. Does that compute, gynoid?" "Yes, Master," Dora replies. Dora drapes the brown robe over Jenny and the four, Bob, Stan, Jenny, and Dora, leave for the service elevator to the basement. Kate comments to Mr. England that it will be interesting to observe Jenny's education. Chapter Twenty-Three: Jennifer's Training Once alone in the dungeon, Dora removes the alligator clamps from Jenny's areolas and clitoris. She then unlocks and removes the handcuffs and allows Jenny to shower and rest. "No Internet show for you today," Dora informs Jenny. The video clip "Jennifer Coddingham Loves Anal" will be postponed until tomorrow. For sure your fans, high school classmates, and old friends will miss you. Once you have your mind right, you will be released back into the general population as a porn star and anal slut. "Yes, Mistress," Jenny sadly replies. "Now lie down and take some rest," Dora commands. Soon we will begin your training in earnest. Dora awakens Jenny. Dora presents her blank gynoid face and asks matter-of-factly if Jenny is ready to begin her training: "We need to start your training now as Mr. England suggests. If you refuse to do as I command Bob and Stan will be permitted to use their harshest measures to convince you. You may remember Bob and his coarse, crass, crude, cruel ways. You will be disciplined with a toothbrush." "A toothbrush, Mistress?" Jenny asks. "Yes, a toothbrush," Dora answers. "There is a tiny patch of skin between your anus and your vulva, your perineum. There I pull the plastic handle back and let the toothbrush strike with a 'thwang' at the same spot again and again. The surface bruise is slight and not easily detected by the uninitiated. The pubococcygeal muscles will be bruised so that vaginal or anal penetration will be excruciatingly painful. The first day is bad, the second day worse. On the third day you will be willing to fight to avoid the repeat." "Yes, Mistress," Jenny answers. Jenny can't imagine the severity outlined by Dora. "Now lie back, pull your legs up and apart, and expose your perineum for use." Dora commands. "Yes, Mistress," Jenny replies. The first several swats hurt a little. The last of the dozen hurt a maximum. Jenny thinks about how sore she will be tomorrow when she must use her butt plug, anal beads, and other toys on her hour-long video clip entitled "Jennifer Coddingham Loves Anal." The day begins. She hopes to do her video clip before having to endure the toothbrush on her perineum again. Dora permits. The gynoid realizes that to change Jenny's mind may be a slow process. The time will come when Jenny will beg and plead for the end of torment with the toothbrush. As Jenny does her recording she utters sounds of extreme pain with her pleasure. Jenny had no idea that a butt plug could hurt so much. The discoloration of the bruise is scarcely noticed. After Jenny has had her on-line time, Dora orders her into position for her next session. Jennifer hesitates then gets into position. The first smack sends arrows and jolts of pain through Jenny. She cries out "no more" and pulls her knees together and clenches her ass cheeks. "We need to bind you for this, girl," Dora suggests. "Yes, Mistress, just please don't summons Bob and Stan," Jenny replies. Dora has Jenny lie on her belly in the prone position. She straps Jenny's hands above her head to the floor ring. She then folds the heavy brown wool blanket and places it under her hips. From the toy table she selects a device to spread Jenny's ass cheeks. Her anus, perineum, and vulva are exposed, vulnerable, and available. Dora carefully aims the toothbrush and swats Jenny eleven more times in the same area. Jenny struggles, twists, squirms, wiggles to no avail. The next day begins. Jenny touches her perineum after awakening. The pain of a simple touch in unbearable. Her vagina and rectum are likewise miserably sore. She cannot conceive of inserting a butt plug or anal beads. Dora has fixed breakfast. After breakfast Dora orders Jenny to the toilet. She screams when Dora attempts to insert the small enema nozzle. Now it is clear that Jenny has reached a decision point. "Shall I summons Bob and Stan?" Dora asks. She already knows the answer. "No, Mistress," Jenny replies. "I am going to reconsider and rethink my position on the Fossil Fuel Fellowship." "Good to hear," Dora tells Jenny. "You have made the right decision. You still need your enemas, however. I will be slow and gentle. Here, I even have some topical analgesic and anesthetic. This will deaden the pain." "Thank you, Mistress," Jenny responds. The power of the toothbrush has been demonstrated. Chapter Twenty-Four: The Protests Continue Stanley Smythe computes the probability that F-Cube will discover his treachery in giving Dora the gynoid administrative status. It is increasing with time as monster search engines cull databases and e-mail files. Stan then examines the possibility and probability of nullifying Dora and fleeing with Jenny, an insurance policy. Dora has been armored and given weapons, the probability of downing her isn't good. It does increase exponentially if not factorially with the element of surprise. Going down and exiting the service elevator, Stan jimmies the elevator doors with the ubiquitous black briefcase. He swipes his access card in the dungeon door's sensor pad and enters. He is carrying a crowbar, entry with a weapon might trigger an alarm. Dora is tending to Jenny's underpinnings, picking pin-hairs with a pair of eyebrow tweezers. The situation could not be better. She is unable to stand and face him for a moment. This split second affords Stan the opportunity to strike at the base of Dora's neck in hopes of severing or breaking some of the optical cables. All that happens, however is a jerk. Undeterred, Stan kicks Dora in the small of her back, sending her tumbling forward. She strikes the crown of her head and a sound of cackling voices is heard. Her magnetic circuitry is realigning itself. Just the opportunity Stanley Smythe dreamt of. Stan pulls forth a Thermite(tm) grenade and places it atop the prone gynoid. He grabs the heavy brown wool blanket, the only cloth to cover the naked Jenny, tosses it to her and pulls her with him. Hopefully Dora will not recover in time to screen snap and transmit his image. There is the metallic whirr as she arms her weapons systems. "Five seconds on the grenade, girl," Stan shouts, "run for your life." They pause at the service elevator and Stan pulls out his black briefcase. Jenny tries to enter the elevator, but Stan pulls her back. "When fire the lifts go out," Stan cautions. "The stairs!" The two head for the stairs. When the fire alarm sound the external doors unlock. Just the break Stan had hoped for. He pauses a second to wrap the blanket like a serape around Jenny and they exit into a dark ally. The horns and sirens of fire engines squeal. Stan unlocks the car, shoves Jenny in, tosses his briefcase on the backseat and scratches off, burning rubber. A Hollywood movie car chase ensues as police try to apprehend the auto speeding from the scene. By a miracle they elude the police and find themselves in a public parking lot. "Why did you free me?" Jenny asks. "I am known all over the Internet by my real name as an anal queen." "I am the traitor to F-Cubed who freed Dora," Stan confesses. "I know that sooner or later they will find me out. So, I grabbed all the money and resources I had and decided that you and I could help each other out. Unless, of course, you want to continue shoving butt plugs and anal beads up your ass for an hour every day." "I almost forgot what freedom felt like," Jenny tells Stan as she readjusts the blanket covering her naked body. "What next?" "We drop by a thrift store and get you some street clothes. Then we drive out of the city on a secondary road and rent a motel room for the night." Stan explains. "We get some grub and a shower. Then we worry about tomorrow tomorrow." "Sounds like a plan to me," Jenny agrees. 31 Oct 2011 Taunus Trumbo F_Cubed Pt. 06 Part VI Chapter Twenty-Four: Stan & Jenny at the Motel Morning broke and the couple Stanley Smythe and Jennifer Coddingham wakened within a few minutes of each other. Stan was wearing his underwear and Jenny was naked. Stan could not help but notice her gorgeous physique. Her breasts sported dusky nipples with puckered areolas. She had a remarkably large clitoris peeking from her vulva. Jenny's pussy was gorgeous. She had the one day stubble. Stan threw on some clothes and walked across the highway to a fast food restaurant and bought two mega-meals: hotcakes with syrup, scrambled eggs, toast, jelly, hash brown potatoes, coffee, orange juice, and sausage. They ate like starved pigs. After breakfast Stan turned on the TV while Jenny went to the bathroom. After about fifteen minutes Jenny emerged from the bathroom blushing and said: "Master, a girl needs some help. She needs an enema to defecate. This is her training. The enema solution is warm vinegar water and soap." Stan is nonplussed. He stammers a bit then realizes that Jenny has been subject to F-Cube's discipline under a gynoid. "I'm going to a drug store and fetch supplies. I'll be back in about a half hour." "Yes, Master," Jenny responds. Stan drives around until he spies a major drug store. He looks around and finally finds a "fountain set," which is drug store talk for enema, hot water bottle, and feminine douche all rolled into one. He picks up some Lux(tm) brand enema soap and a liter bottle of vinegar. He returns to the motel room and takes Jenny to the shower where she bends over and self-administers the enema. Stan turns to exit the bathroom when Jenny pleads: "Stay with your girl, Master! She is trained to maintain eye contact." Stan is a bit squeamish, but complies. He now realizes that Jenny is bonding to him as his slave girl. Jenny is extremely embarrassed at the thought of begging Stan to clean her. She acts like an elementary school girl when she says: "I'm through, Master." Stan realizes the situation and humors the slave girl. Stan is totally nonplussed at the next utterance from Jenny. She assumes a doggie position and, shaking her ass, begs to be sodomized. "Butt fuck your nasty, dirty little slut, Master," Jenny pleads. She twitches and squirms seductively. Stan is not one to refuse, but cautiously undresses. He works his massive member into her Holy of Holies, lubricating it with vaginal juice. He then works his dickhead into her comely rosette. She moans and makes sounds of sexual arousal. Waves of intense desire and craving undulate through her body. There is soreness and bruising to contend with, but her primal passion overcomes the pain. In fact, she is even more turned on, mixing pain with pleasure. Stan and Jenny rock back and forth together. Soon they approach a crescendo. With thunder followed by lightning, the two cum together. There is the sound of rushing winds and the sky reddens as their orgasm climaxes. Stan cums in Jenny's rectum, filling her bowels with his semen. Jenny experiences a total anal orgasm. Both lie down exhausted. Stan is lying on his back, supine, with his penis at half mast. Jenny rolls over and begins to fellate him. She works hard to arouse with a blow job. Stan recovers and achieves another erection. This time Jenny will have to suck hard and long to bring Stan to another male climax. The whole time honey nectar drips from her vulva. She is embarrassed by the presence of her "Oils of Submission," proving her total sexual obedience. Stan stares wantonly and lecherously as Jenny's mammary. Her nipples are standing at a military attention and her areolas are hard and puckered. Jenny notices and inquires: "Would Master like to squeeze my breasts, pinch or twist my nipples, or bite my areolas?" "No, no," gasps Stan. "Why would I want to do that?" "Some Masters or Mistresses love to see a girl cry, some even like to lick and taste their tears, Master," Jenny answers. Stan pauses and reflects. He has never really found delight in hurting or torturing a girl. Still, the idea of causing a little pain with pleasure does seem intriguing. He has never been in such an enviable position before. Jenny cups her hands under her breasts and lifts them. "Maybe a Master would enjoy slapping a girl's teats to arouse and excite her?" Jenny asks. "Oh?" replies Stan. Jenny winks and looks up with wide eyes. "A girl begs Master to use her in any way He desires," she responds. Stan kisses, fondles, kneads, and massages Jenny's breasts. She moans with delight. Stan runs the rough blade of his tongue over areolas and nipples, pausing only to suck on her distended nipples. He glides fingers over her engorged, tumescent clit. Her clit is distended and enlarged. His mind flashes crimson with lust and lascivious desire. "Would Master like to pinch or pull my clit?" Jenny muses. Stan backs away, totally unprepared for such an invitation. Jenny has become a perfect submissive girl, an archetype "subbie." Stan rolls over the girl and licks her comely clit. She pushes her hips forward hoping to entice his long, slippery tongue into her warm, wet slit. He continues to kiss and lick her clit. She utters the shrieks of arousal. Stan worries that the thin walls of the motel will not contain her orgasms screeches. He glides two fingers into her Holy of Holies and another two fingers on his other hand into her Glory of Glories. She is multi-orgasmic and cums again and again. She roughly rubs her own breasts, pulling, probing, pinching, prodding, and twisting nipples, areolas, as well as the whole breast body. Stan has to stop and masturbate. He pulls back and cums all over Jenny's face and hair. "Thank you, Master," Jenny utters, exhausted from multiple, massive orgasms and anal stimulation of the finest degree. "This whole experience is insane to me," Stan states. "We steal some old curmudgeon's patent and push it as a viable renewable energy source. Then we go IPO and 'pump and dump.' Then we find out that it doesn't work and pocket the money. Only now it turns out that it might work, and that's bad so we do in the old fucker to keep it from working. And then comes to light some dissertation, which we manage to destroy except for his personal copy in a bank lock box which you send to the White House. Did I get it all right?" "All except the last part," Jenny explains. "I lied about sending it to the White House. It's hidden away with a friend." "Oh?" Stan asks. "Who might that be?" "His name is Tom," Jenny answers. "He doesn't have any love lost for the F-Cubed. He has been waiting for me to be released or escape." "Ah," Stan utters, "the enema of my enema is my friend." "Yes Master," Jenny responds. Chapter Twenty-Five: At Tom Blanchard's Place Tom Blanchard has no lost love for the F-Cube conglomerate. Robert Reeves and Stanley Smythe, along with Dina the gynoid, smashed into his underground robot "chop shop." They succeeded in re-acquiring Dora the gynoid; however, by blasting a huge hole in the warehouse wall they exposed the chop shop innards to the fire department and the police. Tom escaped and now is working in his apartment, reprogramming housekeeping bots, droids, and the like into sexbots and rembots. His standard of living has declined, but he still manages to have a steady market of underground businessmen and pleasure peddlers. Tom has become an expert at Artificial Intelligence. Stan and Jenny knock on the door of Tom's apartment. He is genuinely displeased to see Stan. Since he has had dealings with Jenny, he reluctantly lets them in. "You are nothing but trouble," Tom complains. "Sure Jenny, you have a tight ass under those thin running shorts and hard nipples under that running top. You turn any man on. That's one of the problems. I'm not just any man. I manage to eek out a living reprogramming gynoids now that my warehouse was confiscated. No thanks to F-Cubed I assure you." Tom pouts. He waits to hear what the two have to say. "We need Harry Sloan's Dissertation on proton annihilation and decay," Jenny demands. "People in hell need ice water, too," Tom retorts. "I have a new career now. How do you know that I didn't shred that drivel?" "We know because what you're doing now is every bit as illegal as what you did before, only this time it's only an infraction and not a "Class E" misdemeanor." Stan recites. "Yeah," Tom growls. He looks at Jenny's crotch; it is wet clinging to her shaved pussy. A "camel toe" attracts his attention. "Sex is a misdemeanor---the more I miss, the meaner I get." Everyone chuckles, breaking a serious standoff. "We are in trouble with F-Cubed, Tom," Jenny interjects. "They have made me a porn queen and Stan a fugitive. We need leverage. We need that dissertation." "OK, OK," Tom answers. "I'll fetch it. Wouldn't it be simpler to scan it and mass e-mail it all over creation. Like everyone in a learned society and in Congress and on some big blog?" "We want to leverage it so that we can keep our skins," Jenny explains. She is starting to get turned on to the two men. Almost all of her "training" had been done by a female gynoid named Dina. Her areolas are hard and puckered and her clit is seen through the fabric of the gym pants. Tom asks about a "menage a trois." Stan asks if he knows what a Jewish menage a trois is? All laugh at the answer: "Two headaches and a hard on." "I'm so horny," Jenny blurts out. Her scent of arousal permeates the air in the apartment. "This is not a good time nor a good place," Stan warns. Tom seems ready to toss caution to the wind. Tom, like so many subsisters and marginalized workers, lives of the periphery of technology. He never had much luck with women in school, preferring computer cybersex to flesh-and-blood females. Never schooled in the fine art of seduction and at the low end of the poverty spectrum, taking a girl to Olive Garden(tm) would tap his cash reserves. Tom and Jenny shed clothes as they head to bed. Jenny hops up on the bed and assumes a doggie pose, exposing vulva, perineum, and anus. Tom spits in his palm and rubs the saliva on his throbbing penis. The odor of spittle arouses him, having been accustomed to lube himself that was for masturbation. K.Y. Jelly wasn't in his budget. "Do my ass, Tom," Jenny begs. Tom shoves his foul-smelling penis, pulsating with irregular veins, into Jenny's rosette. He pulls her atop him, displaying her wet, warm, smelly pussy. Stan comes in and yields to temptation. He tosses clothing aside and immediately penetrates her vagina. He feels her pubococcygeal muscles undulate and contract. Her sphincter muscles, anal and vagina, tighten to hold the contained blood of the two embedded penises. She is aroused. Tom rubs her ass, Stan rubs her clit, and Jenny vigorously massages her breasts. They work themselves towards the triple climax, three holes in one. "Oh my god," Jenny exclaims, "I'm going to cum! I can't hold it any longer. "Fuck my ass, tear up my pussy, slap my ass, pinch my clit! Oh My God, OMG, OMG..." The three moons of some counter-earth dawn on the horizon. An alien stringed instrument plucks out a melody. Drums beat a tattoo and horns mourn a passing event. Throughout the known universe the intensity of the triple orgasm ripple the time-space continuum. Or, at least to the three it does. They lie naked on the bed, staring at the ceiling and wishing that this moment could last forever. From Goethe: Werd ich zum Augenblicke sagen: Verweile doch! du bist so schön! Dann magst du mich in Fesseln schlagen, Dann will ich gern zugrunde gehn! Dann mag die Totenglocke schallen, Dann bist du deines Dienstes frei, Die Uhr mag stehn, der Zeiger fallen, Es sei die Zeit für mich vorbei Translated: If I should say to but one moment: "Tarry a while, thou art so lovely!" Then may you may chain me up, Then I will die at that moment! The death bell will sound for me Setting you free from my service; The clock stops, its hands stand still, Time herself has passed me by! 2 Nov 2011 Taunus Trumbo