3 comments/ 46125 views/ 13 favorites Superf***er Vol. 01 By: DrSqueaky The Superf***er: Saving the planet one p**** at a time Volume 1: A Desperate Plan I watched the waitresses carefully from the bar. They were all hot; this was the Caribbean Zone restaurant on the Las Vegas strip, and all of them were suntan models, waiting tables in bikini tops and tiny, flowery sarongs. I was searching for the target of my first attempt at inter-species mating; so far I was finding lots of girls I would love to fuck, but none that really jumped out at me and said "I'm the one you want." There was a brown-haired girl with a very slender waist and excellent breasts that was leading the pack, but I wasn't sold on her yet for some reason. I decided to head out back for a moment to check the IMS—I'm sorry, Interplanetary Motion Simulator—one last time, because once I put my plan in motion, there would be no going back. I popped out of the restaurant and cut through the adjoining Hollywood World casino, seeking a spot where my IMS could make its readings clear of the myriad electrical disturbances of the strip. I slowed, however, when I realized some of the cocktail waitresses serving complimentary drinks on the casino floor were at least on par with the girls in the bar. I really liked their outfits, too; black fishnets with high boots, black miniskirt or short-shorts, and a loose red top worn unbuttoned to show a black bra underneath. There was just something about seeing just a little slice of flat belly through the opening in the shirt, under the bra, that was somehow more enticing than the girls lettin' it all hang our next door. Maybe I had restricted my options prematurely by just focusing on the restaurant. I took a chair in the sports book, ostensibly watching a game but really scoping out the staff as they refilled their trays at the bar. After about five minutes, I found the girl that had been looking for. She was blonde and had an ample rack—being Vegas, quite possibly enhance, not that it mattered. They don't come that big where I come from, naturally or otherwise—with the gravity on my planet, you'd never be able to keep a tit that big in an upright and perky position. Her shirt seemed to hang open more than the others, showing a flat and well-tanned abdomen—perhaps it was her cleavage, or maybe she had more buttons undone. But it was when she turned and walked away, and the perfect little wiggle of her tight ass, that I decided she was the one. I followed her at a distance to see what area she was serving; she was working the high-limit slots. Ugh—they're not called one-armed bandits for nothing. Oh well, sometimes you just gotta suck it up and pay the price; I sat at a machine, put in a C-note and played slowly until she came around again. "Drinks. Cocktails." Her voice was sweetly pleasant. I raised my finger to gain her attention. She came over and smiled. "Would you like a drink, sir?" "Gin and tonic, please," I said, looking up and giving her a big smile. She had a black choker on which were hung little jeweled letters that spelled out "J-e-s-s-i." Cute touch...much better than a stupid name tag. "Gin and tonic," she repeated, making a little mark and turning towards the next bank of machines. I tried to minimize my losses while I waited for her to come back with my drink. I cued up a ten-dollar bill to tip her with—I wanted it to be big enough to get her attention, but not so big as to tip off my intentions just yet. I hadn't seen a ring on her left ring finger, but just to be sure, as she approached I squinted so as to activate my infrared vision. There were darkish bands on some of her other fingers, indicating rings absorbing heat, but not on the one that mattered. Good. "Gin and tonic," she announced, holding out my drink. I reached for the drink, making sure my hands touched hers ever so slightly in the process. I was watching her face, though, and as our skin touched I saw her one eyebrow flinch just a bit. Good, it worked on humans too. On my planet, positively charged ions naturally accumulate in the fingers of males and negatively charged ones in our thumbs, so that when we touch a conductive surface—like skin—tiny microcurrents are passed between them. On my planet it helps males get females to relax and not respond to our advances by putting us in the hospital, but to humans who have never experienced it, it would feel like my touch made her skin tingle. With any luck she would interpret it as an indicator of raw physical attraction. "Thank you Jessi," I said with a smile, handing her the Hamilton, touching her again. She saw that the face on the bill was not the usual Washington. Between that and the sensation of my light touch, she smile broadly, genuinely, mostly from surprise. "Oh...thank you sir." "Nuh-uh," I scolded teasingly, wagging my finger. "Not sir. Bill. Call me Bill. OK?" "OK," she smiled, "thank you, Bill." "It is my pleasure, Jessi," I replied, returning to my machine before this interaction turned awkward. The first step had gone well. I checked my watch—plastic, since the natural conductivity of my skin tends to lead to short battery life otherwise—and saw it was a little after 9. I guessed that her shift would end at either 11 or midnight. That gave me a couple of hours to try to win her over. In the meantime, I started working on my drink. I had to be damn sure it was empty by the next time she came by. ---------------------- I hadn't planned to be in Las Vegas that night—I expected to be 300 light-years away by now, back on my home planet. You see, there was supposed to be a Ceres-size asteroid colliding with earth somewhere in the Nevada desert—the first celestial impact large enough to create a wormhole in space-time behind it since the Tunguska impact that brought me to your planet in your 1908. That may sound like a long time to you, but since one year on my planet equals about 12 of yours, I've only aged as much as you would in about nine years. I was sent here to investigate reports we received from friendly X!tlyx (short, silver-skinned, hairless beings with large almond eyes, your closest neighbors and the most frequently seen extra-terrestrials on this planet) of a planet where we had heard life had evolved strikingly similar to ourselves. Indeed the reports are correct—I have never once been recognized as an alien in all the years I've been here. But my research was done long ago, and I was overdue to return home. Apparently one of the many differences between our planets is that it gets hit by a lot fewer asteroids. Earlier in the week I had been wandering about in the Nevada desert, looking for ground zero so I could find the wormhole and finally punch my ticket back home. Then suddenly my IMS updated to inform me that the asteroid had hit a large piece of space garbage in the far reaches of the solar system and was now on a near-miss trajectory instead. Damn! Its amazing enough how similar our species are—I studied biology at one of your universities in the 1960s, and I can tell you that the similarities run far more than just skin-deep—but especially when you consider how different our home planets are. My planet—I can't tell you it's name because it can't be pronounced in any Earth language I've run across—is 300 light-years away, about the size of your Jupiter, and frankly a lot less hospitable. It took me a while to get used to walking normally at less than half the gravity I was used to. Your atmosphere is much more oxygen-rich, too, so while the essentials of our cardio-vascular systems are similar, ours had to be much more efficient. In fact, because we developed our abilities in a much harsher environment, they tend to be the same in kind but stronger than yours—to you, I appear to have superpowers. I find it fascinating how much similarity there is between the real me and the character Kent Clark of your comic books, only I don't run around in a caped costume and chunks of my home planet don't neutralize my "powers." And while we may look very similar, we are not identical. The distance between my facial bones is more similar to a juvenile than an adult human, and so while the casino's software would tell you my facial landmarks are five standard deviations from the human norm, people tend to think I just look young. There is a lot less gender difference among my kind. Females are the same size and strength as males, and while they have the same secondary sex characteristics, they are much less pronounced. It took me a while to get used to the size of earth mammaries, but I have come to appreciate them over time. Because there is no size or strength differential, attempting to mate could be a dangerous proposition, so we males have evolved certain subtle characteristics to improve the chances of reproductive success—the microcurrents generated between my fingers and thumb are one example. These little advantages were what I was counting on to acquire human mating partners. So far, my first attempt was going well. -------------------------- About 20 minutes later she came around again. She made sure to stop by me (who else was giving ten dollar tips?) and asked "Cocktails...would you like another gin and tonic?" "Eh?" I played, "can I get you another gin and tonic..." indicating something was missing. "Can I get you another gin and tonic, BILL," she answered in mock petulance. "I would love another, Jessi, thank you." She came back quickly, and I tipped her another ten, making sure to make hand to hand contact in the process. "Ah yes, thank you, my dear. Say, Jessi, you work in this area a lot I presume?" "I move all over, but I've worked here before, yes," she answered. "This machine just isn't doing it for me. Is there one you would recommend?" "I don't play them myself, sir...uh, Bill," she corrected when I frowned. "That Wheel of Cash one seems to be pretty popular," she said, pointing to a machine nearby. "All right, I'll try it," I said, cashing out and moving over. Feeling somewhat responsible now, she came over and watched for a moment. I lost my first three pulls. "I'm sorry, it doesn't look like it's very lucky for you," she noted. "It's all right," I said, taking a good swig of my drink, "sometimes it takes a while. I'll play a bit and see if my luck changes." It didn't—the thing was robbing me blind. Good thing I was playing entirely with casino money from across the street—blackjack is an easy game when you have X-ray vision and can read the dealer's cards. Play at first base on a shoe, and you can know what your first card will be and bet accordingly. I'd been living off of casino cash for twenty years. I also have a nice safe backup stash in various Swiss banks that I accumulated buying shares of major computer companies at IPO since the sixties. I knew that if I bought every one that hit the market I'd eventually hit on the ones that would inevitably transform your—no offense—technologically impeded society. Jessi came back again shortly. "How's that machine working for ya?" she asked jovially. "Not so good yet, but I'm not giving up," I replied. "I am starting to think about food, though. If you could go to anyplace on the strip for dinner, what would you choose?" "The Ming is very good," she replied. "Have you ever eaten there?" "Yes, I liked it." "If you could choose to have dinner anywhere at all, regardless of price, somewhere you've always wanted to go but never have—what would it be?" I pressed. "I guess if I could go anywhere AT ALL, I'd want to try Chez Lafitte," she said, "but that would be out of my price range." "Would they still be serving at say midnight, 1 AM?" I asked. "I would think so," she answered, "it's near a very popular nightspot, I think they stay open late." "OK, maybe I'll look into it...thanks." While she went off to fill my order, I called my host at the Roman Forum casino across the street, where I was staying on the house as a fairly large player. "Hey...think you can get me reservations for two at Chez Lafitte tonight? Say 12:15?" A few minutes later he buzzed me back saying I was all set. It was getting busy now, so when Jessi brought back my drink she was carefully balancing a full tray. I took my drink, tipped her, and let her go on her rounds. When she came back to take orders, though, I popped up, saying "whew...that was quite a tray...I guess you need to lift weights just to work here!" Teasingly, I gently rubbed her shoulders through her silky shirt. I think she was about to ask me not to touch her when she felt the relaxing tingle of the microcurrents from my fingers. Instead she just said "mmmph" at the relief. "There, that's better," I said soothingly, "you back sore?" I gently rubbed along her lower spine; I could feel her muscles relax in response to my charged fingers. Then I stopped, before any alarms—hers or the people behind the cameras—were raised. "Thanks, that felt good," she said in a voice belying her own surprise. "Now I should give you a tip!" "OK," I said gamely, "gin and tonic would be perfect." "Coming right up," she smiled and continued on her rounds. As soon as she was out of earshot, I fed $1000 in bills into the machine. As before, she came by straining under a full tray. Because it was full, she was holding it from below with bent arm, so that it was up around her shoulder. Perfect. As she approached, I called out "Hey you were right, this is a lucky machine—look!" I pointed to my credits, now well over 1000. "Hey, all right!" she said with mild excitement as she handed me my drink. "This is for the drink," I said, giving her a ten. "I'd like to reward you for tipping me off to this machine, too, but I suppose you pool your tips, and you'd just have to share them with everyone else, huh?" "Yes, we pool our tips, but that doesn't mean we don't appreciate..." "Unless I could find some way to sneak it to you..." I interrupted. I had two Franklins balled up in my hand, and I touched her bare skin just below the tray. Smiling and making eye contact, I slid my finger along, down the edge of her open shirt, until I felt the edge of her lacy bra. Then I gently tugged on the edge and slipped the bills under the fabric. The full drink tray hid this from the view of the cameras, and limited her ability to step away—even so, I'm sure it was only because of the tingle my fingers left on her skin that she didn't find a way to slap me. As I finished tucking in the bill, I swung my thumb around in a wide arc, reaching down as far as I could, hoping to swing past her nipple so that the electric current between my fingers would pass right through it. It was just a quick brush, but I felt a tiny nubbin suddenly get hard under the fabric. Bingo! "Look," I said seriously as she was momentarily stunned—one that I'd just copped a feel right out on the casino floor, but more than that how good it felt when I had. I pushed the cash-out button on the machine. "I'm a big believer in destiny, and that when something is right, you'll know. The only reason I've been playing at this machine at all is because from the moment I saw you, it felt like there were sparks flying between us. I know that sounds corny, but really, I've never experienced anything like it. I don't know what it means, but I am convinced it means something. I know you're not allowed to fraternize with guests, but I just made reservations for two at Chez Lafitte tonight at 12:15—that's right after you get off work, right?" She nodded, partly entranced. "I have reservations for two, but I don't have anyone to share it with, and I really hate eating alone. I know that someone as beautiful as you must have someone who's expecting you home tonight, but I was really hoping you'd accompany me for dinner—that's all—and maybe get a chance to talk and see if I can figure out why it feels like there's lightning in the air every time you're near me. I'll have a limo waiting outside the door at midnight to pick you up—I'll be at Chez Lafitte waiting. All you have to do is call home, tell you boyfriend or whoever that you were asked to work a double shift, then go to the limo and meet me for dinner. OK?" She didn't respond; this had her completely offguard. "Just think about it," I said, smiling, touching her cheek momentarily, setting off another spark. "The limo will be outside at midnight." Then I winked at her, took my ticket, turned on my heel and walked away before she had a chance to recover her wits and tell me no. I crossed the street and, with a little time to kill, walked the mile or so to Chez Lafitte. I had no idea if she'd come or not, but I was fairly optimistic that she would. Between the sparks from my touches and the two bills in her bra, I hoped I had piqued her interest sufficiently. I thought it would be around 12:30 when she arrived, but it was almost one—I had just about given up—when the maitre'd ushered the lovely Jessi to my private booth. "Sorry I'm late, Bill," she said breathlessly, "I had to take care of some stuff after my shift, and then I was going to change out of my work clothes, since everyone on the strip knows this is a uniform, but what I'd worn to work wasn't dressy enough, so I ended up leaving it on." She was smart enough to have taken off her name necklace, though. "I'm just glad you came, Jessi," I smiled, "I'm sure this isn't something you usually do." "No," she answered, "never. I could probably get fired for it." "You're entitled to eat here as much as anyone. I'm not a guest of the hotel—I didn't even use a player's card, so there's no record of my ever having been at Hollywood World. I'm just a guy taking you to dinner. Here, let me pour you a glass of this wine—it's very good. Better be, for $200 a bottle!" I filled her glass, we toasted, and made eye contact as we sipped. I kept watching her intently—in part so that I could read her reactions, in part because I knew that if she returned my gaze, she would start to see a subtle kaleidoscope effect in my irises. Another adaptation to try to help us soften the formidable defenses of the females on my planet. I ordered us the Chateaubriand for two. We sipped wine while we waited; I lay my hand gently on hers. She left it there. We talked; I kept turning the focus on her, even though she wanted to know a lot about me—like where I got all this money from. When the dinner came, I slid over closer to her so we could share better. It WAS excellent. After dinner I sat back, stuffed, and put my arm gently around her. Again she left it there. I was able to see almost directly down her open blouse at her cleavage, but I resisted, wanting to keep eye contact. I also touched her shoulder, setting off more sparks. Good thing I'd had such a big dinner—the electrochemical reaction in our fingers may increase reproductive success but is monumentally inefficient from an energy conservation point of view. You burn lots of calories if its being used a lot, and I was using it almost constantly on the lovely Jessi. I think I was getting her pretty close to convinced that these sparks she felt when I touched her must indeed mean something. The check came; I put it on my card. "Thank you for dinner," she said. She gulped slightly; we were dangerously close. "Thank you for sharing it with me," I answered, and then reached over and kissed her, putting my hand on the side of her face at the same time to generate more sparks. She was stiff and reluctant at first, but gradually her resistance melted away. She put her hand on my shoulder, too, and we kissed intently until we were interrupted by the waiter coming with my charge receipt to sign. I sat up to sign it, saying quietly, "Jessi, have you ever seen a high roller suite at the Roman Forum? They're quite impressive—and there's a bottle of wine in mine that I've been dying to open, but there's no way I can finish it myself..." Superf***er Vol. 01 I turned and met her gaze again. She was torn; she looked at her watch. "They run like five grand a night...this may be your only chance to see one for free..." She understood that accepting was tantamount to agreeing to have sex with me, or at least that I would interpret it that way. "OK," she sighed with a sense of resignation. Excellent...I would soon be copulating with a human female. Now I could only hope that our biologies were similar enough for cross-fertilization. I needed to start making lots of babies, and fast. ---------------------- I suppose it sounds strange that I would be so mercenary in my focus on impregnating human females, huh? Well the thing is, when I was out in the desert I got some really bad news. It wasn't that the asteroid was going to miss Earth, or that it would be 20 years before the next collision. No, the bad new was that the next collision was going to be a dark comet—a comet made entirely of antimatter. Your scientists haven't discovered the existence of such things yet, and your solar system has never before been hit by one, as evidenced by the fact that, well, that it's still here. See, when matter collides with antimatter, both are annihilated and converted into a massive release of pure energy. Sure, there would be a humongous wormhole following that collision, but it wouldn't do me any good, as I'd be obliterated before it could open, along with the rest of the planet. The resulting explosion would take out all of the planets between Mercury and Jupiter, and given the proximity, chances were that the sun would absorb the energy and go red giant. I was as doomed as the rest of your solar system. Dark comets release no light, so your scientists wouldn't even notice its approach until it started casting shadows on the planets, less than three months before impact. Even if they somehow managed to guess what it was and could scramble nuclear warheads to try to divert the comet, they would only make things worse, because the energy released in the explosions would be converted to antimatter as it crossed the matter-antimatter boundary—in short, it would just make the comet bigger. Nor would it be diverted by any sort of collision, because again it would be a collision of matter with antimatter. Any material objects it met would neutralize an equal mass of antimatter, release energy, and the comet would recapture almost all of the energy as new antimatter. No, the only way to avert the catastrophe was to redirect the object using a pure force, and human science was nowhere near that kind of capability. If there were a couple hundred of me, I thought with frustration, we might be able to fly up into space and gravitationally redirect the comet—but there was no way to get that kind of help. I couldn't get reinforcements from my planet because there would be no wormholes between then and now. No spacecraft existed yet to take me to a nearby planet to catch one, and standard light-based distress signals wouldn't arrive until hundreds of years too late. This entire planet had 20 years to live, and I was the only one who knew about it. That's when the idea struck me. The one thing I had on my side was time. I wasn't going to be able to get reinforcements from my home planet—but in twenty years, maybe, just maybe, I could grow my own, so to speak. Our biology is so similar, it was worth a try to see if we could interbreed. If so, maybe at least some of those offspring would inherit the characteristics of my species. It was completely unethical, of course, to engage in cross-breeding with indigenous populations, but desperate times called for desperate measures. My only hope was to create an army of half-humans that could maybe, in 20 years, avert the planet's doom. I would have to impregnate hundreds of earth women, and I'd be catching most of them by unhappy surprise. In our biology, females do not have regular menstrual cycles—a rather peculiar evolutionary development if you ask me. Rather, male sperm carries with it the hormones required to stimulate ovulation, so that females only release eggs when they have already been exposed to male sperm. Given the other similarities between our species, I was fairly confident this influx of hormones from my sperm would counteract your oral birth control methods. I would be sentencing hundreds of women to single motherhood, but since the alternative was certain death for the entire planet in 20 years, I felt justified. I'd like to think that if I could have explained the situation, most of them would have assented to my plan. ---------------------- Back at my hotel, we went to my suite through the private back entrance, so no one saw her entering with me in her work uniform. She sat on the baroque sofa in the living room area, crossing her lean fishnetted legs and bouncing her boot nervously. I went to the bar, pulled the wine, then found also some champagne, which I showed her and she elected instead. I popped the cork, poured two glasses, and sat next to her with my arm around her. We drank a little, locked gazes, and soon I was kissing her again. I put my free hand on her shoulder, but slipped it under the shirt, still on her shoulder. I touched her smooth skin, felt her bra strap. She squirmed a little; the tingle would be stronger on her bare skin that it was through the shirt. I stroked her shoulder, letting it go a little further south each pass. I whispered "you have no idea how badly I wanted to do this earlier," and let my hand slide onto the cup of her bra. I massaged and gently squeezed her breast, feeling the nipple respond immediately to the microvoltages passing through it. Her kisses became more sensual; she was starting to become aroused. Taking the next step, I slipped my hand under the cup. It felt soft and inviting. I reached my index finger around until I felt the nipple, then ran circles gently around the areole while holding it with my other fingers. This should have ensured that the tiny currents ran right through the nipple; she gave a tiny sigh of pleasure, so I think it was working. I held her body close to me with my left arm, kissing her, but with my right I explored further. I pulled my hand out of her bra and felt for her shirt; I undid the three remaining buttons. I pushed the flap away, then ran my hand over her firm, well-toned abs. Then I snaked it under the other cup; I felt it jump to attention when the microcurrents ran through it. I felt her hand now exploring, too—she was finding my thighs, and gently running her hand along them. She was feeling for a bulge, and I saw her eyebrows raise in surprise when she found it. I'm dead average size for my species, but I'm just barely in the normal range for yours—by human standards I'm hung like a donkey. She began to stroke it through my pants. I stopped kissing her for just a second so I could reach around behind her. She helpfully lifted up from the sofa, anticipating my next objective. I found her bra clasp, and with one hand eased it apart. I kissed her again, but at the same time I slipped my hands under her cups and eased them up and out of the way. I could see her marvelous breasts for the first time. Especially in Vegas, when I see a slender girl with a generous cup I tend to presume its augmented, and while I can't say for certain they weren't, they felt like they were of uniform consistency. Either way, they were things of beauty. Kissing her one last time, I bent over and kissed the nearer tit, stroking the other with my electric fingers at the same time. I licked it lovingly, tracing circles around the nipple. Then I took it between my lips and sucked on it. I don't know whether earth girls are so enjoyable because they're softer, or if my perceptions were skewed by an earth-century of chastity, but this was awesome. Jessi, meanwhile, kept stroking me through my pants. The changing rhythms of her breath told me she was being further aroused. I felt her feeling around above my penis, and I realized she was trying to unzip me. I sat upright for a moment, and she reached for my waistband with both hands. She undid my belt, hook and zipper, then fished around inside my boxers until she landed the big one. I went and kissed her again while she stroked me and I teased her nipple. I moved to kiss her nipple again, then returned to her mouth. I felt her pushing me away from her lightly. I sat up, and slid forward. She kissed me, then flashed an eyebrow at me before saying "I don't know if I can handle this much at once," stroking my penis for emphasis. She kept bending over until she could reach my erection. She kissed its tip and licked it. "All attempts earnestly appreciated," I sighed with pleasure. After building herself up to it, she took me into her mouth. Only the top fit, but as her head bobbed up and down, sucking me, she kept trying to take more of me each time. She was pumping her hand in rhythm down below where she couldn't reach with her mouth. It didn't matter—her warm tongue massaging my hard penis felt wonderful. I put one hand lightly on her head and played with her nipple again with the other. I wished I could reach her crotch, but she was bending over and her legs were tightly compressed underneath her as she sucked my dick. Then I thought that maybe I could reach from behind; I reached in the direction of her miniskirt, and while I could grab ripe handfuls of ass with ease, I couldn't quite get between her legs far enough to reach where it mattered. Well...time to take this to the bedroom, I thought. I gently pried Jessi off of my dick; she looked at me with a bit of surprise. She was considerable more surprised and let out a cute little squeak when I then in one smooth motion picked her up and stood up from the sofa. Jessi found herself resting in my arms as I easily carried her chest-high into the bedroom. "My God, you're strong!" she said with admiration, instinctively wrapping her arms around my neck even though it was wholly unnecessary. Her weight was to me what perhaps a coffee table book would be to you. My undone pants fell to my ankles; I merely stepped out of them, my erection pushing outwards against the waistband of my boxers. "You bring out the animal in me!" I snarled playfully. She giggled with anticipation as I carried her to the bed. I bent over, having no fear of hurting my back, and gently placed her down, rather than half-dropping her as a human straining to carry her might. She sat up for a second, pulling off her shirt and tossing the bra aside. At the same time, I undid the zippers on her boots and pulled them off. I kissed her toes briefly, but she was already pulling the fishnets off. I let her, then I reached for her waist to pull off her skirt. It stuck; she reached back and undid a zipper somewhere, and I was able to slide it off easily. I didn't even realize there had been a thong underneath, but both came off together. She was naked on my bed. She lay back, adjusting her position and putting a pillow under her head while I ripped off my own shirt. Then I lay next to her as she lay on her back, reaching over and kissing her. I ran my fingers from her neck down to her breasts again, circled a few times, but then continued on my way. When I got to her bikini-waxed crotch, I could feel the warmth of excitement, but she wasn't ready yet. I would soon change that. Still kissing her, I ran my index finger up and down her crotch, keeping my thumb planted above her mons so that there was a current passing between them, stimulating her genitalia. The knob of her clitoris rose quickly in response to my charged finger. I circled the clit with my thumb, then touched and gently pried apart her labia with my others. Her breathing became more shallow, her walls became increasingly damp, inviting rather than resisting penetration. I was able to press my fingers into her vagina, and now could set up the ultimate. I pressed two fingers in and out of her, touching the top of her vagina. In the meantime, I pressed thumb into her clit and rubbed it gently. The wetness of her pussy reduced its resistance to electrical impulses, and so the charges of my fingers could send their microcurrents right though the walls of her pussy and through the heart of her clitoris. It must have been intensely pleasurable, and she reacted like it was. All of a sudden she stopped kissing me and her face got serious, as her attention was entirely focused on the sensations, and she moaned "Oh....oh..." She rocked her pelvis up and down forcefully; I had to work to keep my fingers in contact with the right places to keep the sparks flying. I pulled back to watch her, knowing orgasm was imminent. Her eyes were looking straight ahead but focused on nothing; her brain was nearly overwhelmed by the sensations of my charged fingers providing just the right amount of electrical stimulation directly to her clitoris. "Oh my god...oh my god..." she panted, her pelvis grinding even harder. Then she froze for just a moment, then exhaled "oooooohhhh... ooooohhhhh" as orgasmic contractions convulsed through her entire body. It took a good minute for the contractions to stop. I pulled my glistening fingers out of her pussy; she was out of breath. "Oh my god...Bill...how do you DO that?" she panted. "That was incredible." "A beautiful woman deserves a monster orgasm," I smiled. She wrapped both arms around me and held me close, kissing me with redirected post-orgasmic intensity. But as she did she spread her legs wide apart. She stopped kissing me, then breathlessly said "Bill... please make love to me..." With pleasure my dear. I moved to between her thighs and pressed my penis past the outer labia. I felt her twitch backwards. "Ooo...go slow. You're so much bigger than I'm used to." Watching her face, I pulled back then gently pushed forward until I felt resistance. Her eyebrows shot up in pleasure. I repeated the process, and got in a little further. I guess my girth must have been substantial by earth standards too, because her genitals were having to stretch to accommodate me. But they did, and by nine or ten strokes I was filling her pussy to the top and able to stroke as I pleased. "Oh my god... I feel so, so FULL... oh, it feels good..." she cried out as I began to fuck her in earnest. She lifted her thighs higher, so that her feet now pointed straight up into the air, to better accept my thrusts. She gently wrapped her hands on my arms, which were by her sides and providing my leverage fuck her deeply. We gazed at each other as I plunged into her depths. She felt wonderfully warm and tight; I was going to have to be careful not to get carried away and possibly tear the tender tissues of my willing participants. Her eyes were big with wonder—at the orgasm, at the size of my dick as it plowed her, at the money I'd spent on her, on who the hell was I anyway. She couldn't help but breathe heavy at the stimulation; I think she might been a tad embarrassed by how strongly she was reacting. Trust me, everything was fine with me. I was feeling real good, but she looked like maybe she might cum again. Still screwing, I reached down and placed my middle finger on her clit. Touching my thumb to her belly completed the circuit, and now she got the tingle in her clit at the same time as I was ramming her pussy. Her mouth hung open for a moment or two; she was so sexy, I couldn't help but increase the speed of my own efforts. With just a few "huh...huh..." as buildup, she came again, this time just saying "oh" and curling her pelvis up and towards me. I felt the rumbling deep within her again, pounded a few quick strokes, thrust myself in full depth while the next round of tremors passed, and so on. When the orgasm passed, her arms and legs fell weakly at her sides. Damn...I was going to have to make sure I didn't wear these earth girls out before I could get my business done. Fortunately, she had looked simply angelic as she came with me inside her, and it wasn't going to take me much more to me to climax myself. I decided I had to go for it, and hoped her body could withstand it. I stroked her deep, fast and hard. Her mouth fell open again and her eyes look up, but they weren't focused on me, they were focused on the feeling. She looked so pretty, so vulnerable as she lay open before me. Her breasts were flying up and down, barely able to keep up with the pace of my fucking. But her pussy gripped me and pleasured me, staying with me on every stroke. I felt the tension rising in my balls. My strokes became shorter and quicker, and then like the breaking of a dam I came, shooting my alien sperm deeply and forcefully into her human vagina. God, I thought...if fucking earth girls felt this good, maybe I didn't WANT to go back home! -------------------------- "Are you sure you're all right? Can I get you anything besides a cab?" I was lying in bed, but Jessi had dressed again and was anxious to go. "No, thank you," she answered, "it's almost four o'clock, and I need to be home before my boyfriend wakes up and finds I'm still gone." She finished adjusting her makeup and sat down by me on the bed. "You wore me out, Bill—if I fell asleep now, there's now way I'd wake up before ten." She ran her fingers playfully through her hair. "Thank you for a night I'll never forget," she purred. Damn, I already wanted to fuck her again. We kissed goodbye intensely. Then with a "good night, lover," she showed herself out and was gone. I waited until I heard the door click, then got up and got dressed myself, intending to go down and play some more blackjack and make some more money until I got tired. On my planet it's the women that fall asleep after sex, and the men who are wide awake—go figure. Well, inter-species copulation had gone swimmingly, and my evolutionary advantages had proven devastatingly effective at the art of seduction. I'd done all I could; now all I could do was watch and wait. Would my sperm be able to fertilize a human egg? Would there be successful implantation? I would go back in four days or so, hopefully unseen, and using my infrared vision I thought I should be able to tell if implantation had occurred. Even if that was successful, there was no guarantee that the half-bred fetus would be viable to full term. But I didn't have time to wait until the results of the first experiment were in—I was going to need keep seeding as many human females as possible and hoping for the best. It was up to me to prevent the total annihilation of the planet—only I knew about the danger, and only I and my progeny could hope to do something about it. I thought about Kent Clark again as I rode the elevator down to the casino floor. Now that I was charged with being the protector of the Earth, we had yet another thing in common. Maybe I needed a comic book of my own. I laughed to myself as I imagined myself on the cover of a comic, partially obscured by the tagline: Superfucker: saving the planet one pussy at a time. The door opened up and my eye caught a slender, scantily clad young lass drunkenly tottering on sky-high heels onto the elevator, bumping into me as I left. "Oh, excuse me," she slurred, staggered slightly to her right to let me pass, then along with her companion carefully negotiated their way onto the elevator. I turned and watched them get on. Her legs are going to be up around her ears within five minutes, I thought, unless she passes out first. I felt my penis stirring inside my pants. Well, I thought, I'm going to have WAY more fun saving the planet than old Kent ever did. Superf***er Vol. 02 Sitting back at my table for one, I was a little embarrassed by the size of the mound of food on my plate. I'm not usually the buffet type, but the one at the Hollywood World casino in Las Vegas is as good as they get—and I was HUNGRY. I had used up lots of energy in the last 24 hours—seducing my first human female, playing blackjack until 6AM to burn off my after-sex energy, sleeping until noon, and now gorging myself on food from every one of your continents. It has been a long time since I'd experienced post-coital famishment—males of my species have positive charged ions in our fingers and negative ions in our thumbs, a disparity which which produces very pleasant microcurrents when touching a conductive surface, like the skin of a female. But it takes monumental amounts of energy to maintain that imbalance, and if you use it a lot, as I had the night before, you wake up mighty hungry. As I ate, I thought about where I might find my next human partner for my experiments with interspecies cross-breeding. See, I was born on a planet 300 light-years away, yet we have so much in common that in a hundred of your years living on Earth no one has ever detected that I was anything but human. But because my planet is denser and, well, more hostile, I have what you would I suppose term super-human abilities. It was advanced technology, however, that made me the only being on Earth to know that the entire planetary system would be destroyed by a collision with an antimatter comet in twenty years time, unless it could somehow diverted. Humans had no means to do so, but perhaps if there were a few hundred others like me it could be done. Problem: there would be no other impacts with your planet large enough to create a time-travel wormhole in space-time, so I would have no opportunity to fetch reinforcements. Solution? Maybe, since we ARE so similar, if I can cross-breed with humans, some of those offspring will inherit enough of my abilities to pull it off. If not, well, then all anyone could do is sit back and wait for the inevitable. So, in violation of every law of ethics, I found myself trying to breed with the indigenous population. My first attempt with Jessi, the waitress from upstairs, had gone as well as I could have hoped, at least as far as the insemination was concerned. It would be a few weeks before there would any way to tell if fertilization had occurred, and months before I would know whether the resulting fetus was viable. I didn't have time to wait and see the results of the experiment, though—I'd just have to keep mating with human females and hoping for the best. Besides, if Jessi was any indication, carrying out these experiments was easily the best time I'd had since arriving on your planet. After lunch I walked in to the Caribbean Zone restaurant next to the Hollywood World and sat at the bar, much as I'd done the day before. My original plan had been to select one of their attractive, bikini-clad waitresses for my first experiment until by accident I found just what I was looking on the casino floor. I was back, giving the place a second chance, but while there were many fine physical specimens that I enjoyed observing, something all of them held be back from actually going for it. I decided that they were too aloof, which I suppose I could understand if your job consisted of walking around all day in less than a half-yard of clothing in full view of an entire shopping mall within a cultural context that has a hang-up about nudity. There must be some other place to find likely partners, I thought, so I started to walk down the strip. I saw plenty of possibilities, but every female that caught my eye was with a boyfriend or husband—I had way too many women to screw in the coming years to invest the amount of time it would take to separate one from a significant other. So where would a single woman that looked like that go this evening? To a show, I thought, but I wasn't going to meet people sitting and watching the Cirque Francais. I took the elevator up to the raised walkway crossing the boulevard. The walkway cleverly cut through one of the casinos on its way south; as I entered, a man by the doors stuffed a small card in my hand. I took the card just because it was easier than to not take it, wondering what it might be—I knew it couldn't be any of the adult services, they weren't permitted to conduct their pamphleting on casino property. I looked at the card as I continued walking. It read "One free admission to the Foxy Wolf. Doors open 6:00." And lo and behold, I finished reading it right as I passed in front of said establishment. The bar itself was closed, but there was a booth selling icy drinks and branded merchandise to the walkers-by. Attractive females in suggestive attire worked the booth, and video monitors hyped a party-time atmosphere. Aha! A party bar! EXACTLY where a group of single females looking for a good time would go. I looked at my watch—3:00. Good. Plenty of time to get back to the Roman Forum, put in my daily play requirement, make some cash of course, and get back once the party was actually started. With a hop in my step I went down the stairs and caught a cab. -------------------- It was 10:30 when I returned, and there was a queue of people wanting to get in outside the door. I noticed that it was mostly men in the queue, whereas groups of young attractive females tended to be let right in, especially if scantily clad. I walked up to the doorman, ignoring the velvet rope of the queue. "Pardon me...is this the right place to use this?" The burly bouncer took the card from me with an irritated look until his fingers informed him that something legal tender was tucked under the card. He flipped it around quickly, saw Mr. Jackson's face, and suddenly was quite helpful. "Absolutely sir, this is the place. Are you alone this evening?" "Not for long!" I grinned. "Hah, that's the spirit," he said a bit too heartily. "Well as it happens, we're exactly ONE below the legal limit inside. If you had more in party you'd have to wait outside, but since there's just one of you..." He opened the velvet rope for me to pass though and held his arm out gesturing me inside. "Excellent, thank you," I smiled and went in. Liar. There was plenty of room for other customers inside. The problem was those that were waiting were the wrong KIND of customer. If you were young, attractive, and flaunting what you got, they would always find room for you. If you were average, overweight, and/or dressed like a tourist, well, and there probably WAS a strict limit to how many of THEM they would let in—possibly zero. I ordered a gin and tonic and moved to the back of the bar to do a little window shopping. One of the bartenders got up on the bar and started to dance at one point to disproportionately loud cheers from the audience. She looked all right, but she wasn't much of a dancer. Nevertheless the crowd went wild, all playing along with the notion that there was something somehow wild and abandoned about dancing on the bar, even though it was a pre-scripted ritual repeated at regular intervals. I watched for a little while until something more interesting caught my eye. A group of four girls was standing by the bar, sipping brightly-colored crushed ice cocktails in oversized, souvenir containers. Two had blonde highlighted hair and a vague familiar resemblance, possibly sisters or cousins. They both had on cropped tank tops, but the one in the skirt was a bit too pudgy to pull it off well. The other had pencil-leg jeans and both had pointy stilettos. One of their friends had long, curly brown hair, lightened by sun, and an even darker tan than the first two. She had on a plunging halter top that was almost a bikini, and although you could see almost her entire back there was no tan line to be seen. She had pronounced curves—her hips were wide, her waist was narrow, and her breasts were full. She also had on pencil-thin jeans, with strappy high-heeled sandals. The fourth one didn't quite seem to belong. She appeared much shorter than the others, although much of that may have been the fact that she just wore simple flip-flops rather than sexy heels. She had a pair of short-shorts and a top that also had a halter neck but was a full top; only the top of her back and about a half-inch of her belly were visible to onlookers like myself. But she was slimmer than the others, natural blonde it appeared, and most of all—she was just cute. She had the kind of face that barely-legal cheerleader dreams are made of. I watched for a bit. The cute little one was clearly the quiet one; the others were loud and screaming at cheering for its own sake at every opportunity, and they were at least a half of a drink ahead of her. I squinted to use my infra-red to scan their fingers; the only one looked like they might have a wedding ring was the skinnier of the two highlighted crop-tops. It also looked like the brunette had pierced nipples and the heavy one, well, it looked she might have jewelry dangling between her legs. Well, I guess you've got to go a little sluttier to compensate for the extra fat, I thought. I've never picked up a girl in a bar—it's hard to explain, but that is not the way mating pairs form among my kind, and until yesterday I'd had no interest in having sex with humans. I watched them for clues as to how I might break the ice with them. A couple of other guys had approached them, but were somehow quickly dispatched—I didn't want that to happen to me. Then two of them ordered refills of their brightly colored-drinks and it gave me an idea. As if on cue, another bartender hopped up on the bar. While everyone else watched, the girls included, I sidled across the bar so that when the song ended I was right behind them. As soon as the music ended, I said to the four of them in general "So I've gotta ask you...those drinks look just like a big blue slurpy to me. Is that what they taste like?" Almost in harmony, they all turned to me and said "No!!!" "OK, OK...but ya gotta admit, it looks like one." "Only because it's blue," said the fat one, "but it's not blue raspberry like a slushy." "No? What is it?" "Hmmm...that's actually hard to describe..." she took a hearty sip and thought about it. "I guess it just tastes...blue!" "You mean as in how Blue Moon ice cream tastes...blue?" I asked. "Kind of," the married/engaged one chimed in, "but not exactly the same. You should try one." "Maybe. There's so many colors to choose from...I see on the sign board what they're supposed to taste like, but obviously they only sort of taste like strawberry, or orange-mango or whatever. Have you tried any of the others?" "I've had the yellow," said the married/engaged one again, "it's not bad, but I like the blue better." "I wish they had a sampler where you could get one of each," I sighed. "They do," the quiet one said, "but it costs like 30 bucks." "You can get twice as much for the same price sticking to just one," she fat one chimed in. "Yeah, but what if one of those other ones is the best thing you've ever tasted? How will you know, if you never try one?" "Well, you could always buy us a sampler, and we could taste them all," challenged the brunette. "I was just going to suggest that," I smiled, pushing my way between them to get to the bar. They let me through. "Bartender!" One of the girls behind the bar came over. "Five samplers please!" "That's $150," she said, thinking I didn't understand the price of what I'd ordered. "Yeah, OK," I answered, giving her two C-notes, "keep the change." The bartender's eyes shot up, and her demeanor switched from grumpy at the thought of having to pour all those glasses to being more than happy to server me anything I wanted. "Five?" asked the cute one behind me. "Yeah..." I said like I didn't understand. "There four of you and one of me, right? Last time I checked that's five, right? Did I miss someone?" "No..." she replied. "I meant you should buy one, and we could all taste them," said the brunette, feeling a bit bad about my expense but suddenly a lot more interested in me because of how easily I spent it. "Meh, what fun is that?" I replied disdainfully with a wave of my hand, "you girls look like you're here to have a good time tonight, right? This way, if you find one you really like, you won't have to share!" "Woohoo," began the brunette, with the others all raising their hands and joining in. I played along. The samplers came on a little wooden stand, a raised wooden disk with circles cut out to hold the glasses and a handle sticking out on top. It looked a bit like a revolver with eight multicolored bullets. I handed the samplers back to the four girls, taking the last for myself. "All right," I announced, turning to face them as they stood in a circle, "which do we try first?" They started chattering among themselves as to which we should try first. In the end they deferred to the heavy-set one, who wanted to start with purple. "OK then...on the count of three..." Altogether we grabbed our purple glasses and counted out "one...two...three..." and we all took a thirsty gulp. Ugh—OK, maybe it didn't taste exactly like a slurpy, but it was almost as sweet as one. But the girls seemed to dig it. "Oooh, that's good," purred the heavy one. "Let's try the yellow one now," the brunette piped in. So next thing I knew we were counting down again, "one...two...three..." It was kind of banana-y, kind of pineapple-y. More bearable than the first. The other girls were getting all hyped up, but the cute, quiet one was standing to my right. She kind of leaned toward me and said "Thank you." "Bill," I replied, "thank you BILL." "Thank you, Bill," she said, reaching out to shake my hand gently, "my name is Crystal, and these are my friends Carmen," she gestured toward the heavy one, "Amber," she gestured toward the married one, "and Nicole." They stopped their chatting briefly as they heard their names spoken out loud. "Nice to meet you all," I smiled, "This sure looks like it's girl's night out to me! Where are y'all from?" "L.A., baby," Nicole exaggerated, "Hollywood. Where else?" She tossed her hair, and next thing I knew, her hand grabbed my ass before settling into my back pocket. I guess she had decided she liked me—or at least, my easy way with money. "San Fernando Valley, actually," Crystal corrected. "Oh come on, don't give us away like that," Nicole chided. "There's nothing glamorous about the valley." "I'm not sure I'm the Hollywood type anyway," I interrupted lest a catfight break out. "So what brings four lovely young ladies out to Vegas? There must be some special occasion?" "Carmen is newly divorced!" Amber declared. "This weekend is a 'single again' party!" Another round of hollering followed. "So you better watch out," Amber added slyly, "Carmen is available and on the prowl." "Easy for your to say," Carmen retorted, giving her a playful punch, "you're the only one here that isn't single!" They proceeded to argue playfully, with Nicole egging them on. I whispered to Crystal, "are they always like this?" "I'm afraid so," she smiled wistfully. "What about you? You seem more...serious than your friends." "I don't know about more serious," she answered seriously. "More reserved, more cautious maybe..." "Does being around them bring you out of your shell," I asked, "or does their extroversion push you in?" She did almost a double-take as she thought about it. "That's a very interesting question..." Before she could answer, though, Nicole suddenly threw her arms around me and chided her "Hey, I saw him first! Don't you be putting moves on my man!" She was jesting, but Crystal retreated at the rebuke. It seemed clear that she was used to deferring to the others when it came to men. Nuh-uh—SHE was the cute one, SHE was the one I wanted. "Ladies," I kidded, "there's plenty of Bill to go around." And I put one arm on each of their shoulders and gently rubbed. It was the first time that they experienced the pleasing tingle from the currents flowing between my fingers and thumbs, and I could see it wasn't lost on either. But how was I going to put the moves on Crystal, with Nicole trying to dominate my attention? ------------------ A couple hours later, I was cruising down the strip in the back of rented limo with all four of my new friends. I had invested enough time and attention at the bar that when I invited them to see my suite and share my champagne, the accepted. But first I let them take the limo up and down the strip—I was paying for an hour either way, may as well use it. Amber and Carmen were blitzed; they would have had difficulty standing barefoot, and with their heels they were in imminent danger of collapse. Nevertheless, they insisted on standing up in the car, poking their heads out the sunroof, hooting and hollering at the crowds shuffling along on the sidewalks, drinks in hand. The car stopped at a red light; predictably, when it started up again both girls tumbled backwards onto me. I was ready, expecting exactly that, although they probably would not have fallen anyway on account of the way they were wedged in the sunroof. The timing was good, however, because Nicole had just tried to reach for my junk, and had to withdraw her hand when I reached to catch her friends. Nicole was, I would say, well-lubricated in more ways than one. Perhaps alcohol made her horny, but she was at my left, leaning on me, giving me lusty glances, raring to go. I'm sure, had I let her, she would have gone down on me right there in the car, with her friends there and all. Perhaps it wouldn't have been the first time on her part. I was not going to get her off of me, of that I was by now certain. If I was going to nail Crystal, I was going to have to include Nicole and make a threesome of it. I found it kind of humorous, because she was practically begging me to fuck her right then and there and I'd paid her no special attention at all, I'd focused on Crystal all night. I guess I was getting two for the price of one. That is, if I could get Crystal to go for it. Sure, I could just opt for the low-hanging fruit and bang Nicole--but I was selecting partners that I thought would do a good job of raising a child. Nicole did not fit that mold. Nicole's unwillingness to keep her paws off me was going to make it even harder to bed Crystal. I could tell she was cautious by nature; it was going to be hard enough to get her into bed when I'd just met her, and if it was in the context of a threesome that might be a deal-breaker. She had been sitting on my right side, but when her friends almost fell she got up and joined them in the sunroof for a while to make sure they were all right. At the next light, they were able to lean on her to keep from falling—she was feeling good, but nowhere near as intoxicated as her friends, having consumed at least two fewer mega-cocktails, plus she was steadier in her flip-flops than they in their heels. With the three of them outside the car, I was not going to able to hold Nicole off for long without being obvious about it; she latched on to me stuck her tongue in my mouth. She did have a nice body, but the very behavior I was witnessing was why I didn't want her to be the mother of one of my super-children. My hands naturally fell around her bare waist, which of course set off the microcurrents from my fingers, tingling her skin and reinforcing her desire. Fortunately, in her lust she managed to spill my glass, saving me the trouble of "accidentally" spilling it myself. Being the debonair host, I sprang to refill everyone's glasses—but I let myself touch the bare skin between her breasts and gently stroke my finger up to her neck as I extricated myself from her grasp, not wanting her to realize that she was being at least partially rejected. Who knows what she would do if that's what she thought? Superf***er Vol. 02 I crawled across the car to the bar by the side door. The hooting and hollering got louder; Nicole decided to join them, which of course magnified the excitement. Grasping the champagne, I turned and stopped for a moment to enjoy the view—four pairs of bare legs stood in the middle of the car like a forest of sex trees. Without even trying I was looking up at their various thongs. Nice. Seizing the moment, I placed my hand gently on the back of Crystal's calf, resting it a moment so she could feel the tingle, then slowly ran it up along the back of her leg to mid-thigh before suddenly sitting back down and announcing "who else needs champagne?" Even if I had wanted to join the girls up top, there was no room for me. Nicole immediately returned to my side, but now Crystal returned as well. I put one arm around each of them, and they cuddled up next to me. Nicole reached into my shirt and began to kiss my chest, which gave me an opportunity to focus on Crystal again. With her leaning forward as she was, I easily slipped one hand under Nicole's halter top and gently stoked her nipple, which of course jumped in response to the microcurrents. Figuring that would keep her occupied for at least a little while, I locked eyes with lovely Crystal. Crystal tossed her head slightly and swallowed noticeably—this was not a situation she was used to. I doubted she was the type to pick up strange men, but more than that, she was both sober and perceptive enough to recognize that I had been paying special attention to her all night. Perhaps Nicole noticed and thus was trying doubly hard to entice me, but I think she was too wrapped up in her own head to notice. But Crystal did, and it just felt like it was a big shot in the arm for her. I'm sure she was used to Nicole or maybe even the others landing the men; the fact that in spite of Nicole blatant advances I continued to be interested principally in her was part gratifying but also part confusing. I initiated the kiss with Crystal, using my fingers to stimulate the back of her neck. We kissed for as long as I thought we could get away with, then locked glances again. Crystal glanced at Nicole, who had now kissed her way down to my thighs, with a look that said "what about her?" "Driver," I announced, "please take us to the Roman Forum now." Clothes were going to start flying off soon, and I really didn't want it to be in the limo. ----------------- Fortunately, being in the middle of the strip it took just a few minutes to get to the casino. We went around to the back entrance of the private players hotel; I led the girls up to my suite. They were all suitably impressed when they entered the 700 sq ft living room area. I headed to the bar to retrieve the promised champagne while they tried out the overstuffed leather couches. Carmen was blown away by the 60 inch TV on the wall, and turned it on. She flipped through the channels briefly, and came across some wrestling. She squealed "Oh my god! This won't even be on pay-per-view until next week." And just like that, Carmen and Amber were entertained. I walked up between Nicole and Crystal, putting my tingly fingers on Crystal's back. "There's six more rooms, would you like a tour?" "Sure," Crystal nodded. Nicole tried to hide a sour look; she had hoped Crystal would join the others. I doubted Crystal was ever interested in wrestling. I smiled to myself as Crystal avoided eye contact with Nicole, knowing that she was trying to send her dirty looks. She was pretty smart; I was all the more confident that I was making the right choice in focusing on her. I took them through the suite, several rooms of which I hadn't even looked at myself, ending of course in the master bedroom with its opulent king-sized bed. I shut the door behind us. The two girls stood at right angles to each other, facing the bed. Crystal was looking at the floor, Nicole at Crystal. I walked in between them. First I kissed Nicole while I rubbed Crystal's back. Then I kissed Crystal while I rubbed Nicole's back...from top to bottom...and then slipped my fingers around to her nipples again. I felt them jump when the currents hit, and as I hoped, that was enough—she no longer cared whether Crystal stayed or went. She wanted my dick, and she wanted it now. With purpose, she whipped open my belt and started working on my pants. Crystal broke off uncomfortably and turned to leave, but I reached for her arm gently. "Please," I said, looking deep into her eyes, "this is kind of a new experience for me too, but I really want you to stay." Nicole meanwhile got my pants undone and her fingers found their way to my penis. Crystal stood for a minute, indecisive. I was pretty sure she had never seriously considered a three-way before, but it was also clear that she was the one I really seemed to be interested in. I smiled gently while I ran the back of my hand down from her shoulder towards her breast. "I'd really like to get to know you better," I whispered into her ear just as my fingers reached her breast. I placed my thumb just below where I thought the nipple was and gently traced circles with my index finger. Even through the fabric of her top, the currents tingled through her nipple, and almost instantly I had no trouble ascertaining exactly where it was. She drew in her breath slightly; no, I thought, you've never felt anything quite like this. "Oh my god!" Nicole exclaimed. Her stroking had of course made me hard; I imagined that her brain would have first processed the tactile input to realize that by human standards my dick was huge. Almost as if to confirm what her fingers were telling her, she had pulled back my boxers to see that yes, I really was that big. I was still watching Crystal; she had turned her glance towards Nicole, and now she saw the size of my meat as well. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise; if Nicole had never seen a monster that big in real life, certainly Crystal never had. "What can I say?" is what I said. Nicole was frozen save for her reflexive stroking of the monster; I wondered if she might not be calculating just what she could or could not do with a penis that size. Crystal in spite of herself reached to touch me, half-expecting to find that it was a plastic prosthetic or something. I sucked in slightly so that my penis seemed to leap towards her touch; she touched it gingerly even after she confirmed that it was most definitely real, as if it was an alien object. If only she knew. As she reached for me, I took advantage of her position and slipped my hand under her top. Reaching down from her shoulder, I found her other nipple and gently circled its tender, bare skin. I heard her exhale at the pleasurable sensation, stronger now that it wasn't muted by fabric. She stood up, but grew bolder and grasped the tip of my cock. She closed her eyes, though, at the feeling of my tiny currents on her nipple. Whatever else might have been going through her head, she was in no hurry to make that feeling go away. Suddenly Nicole sprung into action. She got to her knees in front of me, and hastily pulled down everything she could grasp. She gently wrestled my dick free from Crystal; giving it a couple of strokes so that it stood straight out. And then she wrapped her lips around it and began to suck. She sucked like it was a personal challenge to see how much of my monster she would swallow; she would suck a few strokes, then she would strain forward to push my dick as far into her throat as she could. With each effort she swallowed just a bit more of my dick. I was at least eight inches in; how she didn't gag I don't know, the difficulty being not even so much its length as its circumference. I had to admit it felt awesome. I moaned slightly as Nicole worked on swallowing me. Crystal craned her neck back and to the side and kissed me while I continued making circles on her nipples. Still in this position, I ran my fingers along strap of her top until I found the knot at her neck. I undid the knot and guided the straps off her neck so that they hung downwards from the gather right below her bust; her breasts were free. I bent slightly and began to tease her nipple with my tongue. With my other hand, I reached to do the same with Nicole. She reached for my hand and stopped me, however. Instead, she reached to the middle of her back and untied the string there. Then she released my penis for a second while she lifted the top up and over her head, then closed her eyes and returned to her personal quest to swallow me whole. I doubted she could succeed, but I was more than willing to allow her to keep trying. I reached down with my left hand, tweaked her nipple between my thumb and index finger, and played with her breast while sucking Crystal's with my mouth. I was beginning to see why someone might really dig a threeway. Crystal cupped her hands under my chin and brought my face up from her breast to kiss me. Then she announced "you don't look comfortable...let's move to the bed." All right! CRYSTAL was the one suggesting it! I think we were all thinking it, though, because we all moved to the bed. I kicked off my shoes and stepped out of my pants, then tossed aside my shirt and lay on the bed. Crystal kicked off her flip-flops, pushed her shirt down towards her waist, thought for a minute, but decided not to take anything else off. I smiled as got on the bed next to me; her belly was lean, flat and very sexy. Nicole dallied behind, then once we were on the bed she crawled on from the bottom rather than the sides. My dick was pointing straight up in the air, and she was fascinated by it like a moth by a light. "You're dick is like a goddamn telephone pole!" she marveled in hyperbole. She crawled up between my stretched legs and sucked my dick again, but now she pulled up her skirt to her hips, pulled her thong to the side, and began to masturbate with her left hand. Crystal was becoming more confident. She teasingly hovered over me, dangling her breasts just out of my reach. I reached for one, and she pulled back so I could not with a devilish smile. I lay back, she hovered closer, but pulled away again when I attempted to reach them a second time. So instead I grasped her left breast with my right hand and let the electricity do its magic. She closed her eyes and sighed; she made no effort to avoid me when I reached to such her other nipple a third time. Nicole now started to feel left out—after all, she was doing the hard work. I think she also had determined she was not going to get the last three inches of so down, I was just too big to deep throat. She kissed her way up my chest. I reached towards her, and when she came close I kissed her, grateful for her above-and-beyond oral efforts. Crystal, meanwhile, wrapped her fingers around me and began to stroke me—not as good as Nicole's throat certainly, but it felt nice enough. I touched Nicole's breast, and she brought them closer so I could suckle the other. She must sunbathe topless a lot, I thought, because she was evenly tan right to her brownish areolas. Crystal moved towards the spot Nicole had vacated. As I would have expected, she was nowhere near as accomplished a giver of head as her friend, but she wrapped her lips around me and sucked the top few inches steadily while stroking the rest with her hand in rhythm. In the meantime, Nicole bent her leg and openly showed me herself masturbating. I didn't want to start using my fingers on her crotch yet, though, because if Jessi last night as any indication, it was going to drive her insane. She was clearly wet and ready, whereas Crystal still had her shorts on. Then I realized Crystal was straddling my leg, rather than kneeling between them. With a slight adjustment, I was able to bring my foot into contact with her crotch. I began to move my foot back and forth as best as I could while pressing lightly into her crotch. In short order, I felt her pushing back, rubbing against my foot. Time to move. "All right ladies, you were both wonderful with your tongues, but now its time I showed you what I can do!" They weren't sure what I had in mind, but in short order I had them laying side by side, knees bend and thighs apart. Nicole took off her own panties but left on her skirt and heels, while I removed Crystal's shorts, taking the thong and shirt with it so she was completely naked. I lay down with my face between Nicole's thighs and started licking, running my tongue up and down her slit, increasingly concentrating on the clitoris as it rose and became more prominent with excitement. At the same time, I used the fingers of my right hand to stroke Crystal's labia. Crystal was bikini waxed, Nicole Brazilian. Crystal's pussy softened as I stroked it and I was able to start parting the lips gently. I was pleased to find warm moisture under the protective layer once I was able to delve inside. I was careful not to let my thumb touch her skin, else I would complete the circuit and the current would resume. I was going to save the best for last. Crystal's clitoris also began to rise, so I switched, so that I was fingering Nicole and licking Crystal. I could sense both of them breathing more shallowly. I continued licking until she was dripping wet and the smell of her musky scent grew dense. Showtime. I rested my head on their feet as I inserted two fingers into each of their pussies. I stroked both until it my fingers were soaked and slipped in and out easily—it didn't take long. Then I brought my thumb down softly on each of the girls' clits and rubbed gently. The circuit completed, gentle, pleasurable currents ran through the walls of their vaginas straight through their most sensitive genital area. It was like someone had thrown a switch. Both of them tensed as unimaginable pleasure raced up their spines. "Oh my god!" both exclaimed almost in synch. Nicole pushed her clitoris against my thumb; Crystal's hips bucked up and down like a bronco. Damn; it would have been fun to take bets as to who came first. Coming down the stretch, it was Nicole in the lead. She was breathing hard, like she'd just finished a sprint. It was clear she was going to win; Crystal's bucking hips kept breaking the circuit, while Nicole's pressing her clit into me intensified the process. Crystal also seemed a bit taken aback, the sounds Nicole made reminded her that she was having a threeway with her friend, and it inhibited her. Nicole had no such modesty, and orgasmic spasms racked her body as she crossed the finish line first. Nicole collapsed onto the bed, but I wasn't letting her off that easy. She wanted me so bad that the only way I could get to Crystal was to screw them both, well, she was gonna have me. I moved up and took one of Crystal's nipples in my mouth to expedite in inevitable climax, but I kept my fingers rubbing Nicole's clit. In seconds she was breathing heavy again, even though she was still tired from the first. "Oh god," she moaned, partly in pleasure and partly from fatigue. Crystal's hips bucked harder, but I was now lying partly on them, so they couldn't move as far. As a result, my fingers stayed in better contact with her clit. She was breathing almost as fast and hard as if she were in labor, each getting shorter and faster, and then she let loose with an "nnnngggggghhhhhh" of surprising volume. Her shudders were so strong the entire overstuffed mattress shook. Crystal fell back, exhausted. Nicole, however, turned and held herself up on one elbow. "Oh Crystal, that was awesome! I've known you all these years, and I never knew you had that in you." She smiled with wan embarrassment, but Nicole tongue-kissed her instead. By bending over to kiss Crystal, Nicole's backside was raised in the air. Damn—no tan lines there, either? Just how and when did this girl sit out? Eh, who cares...without further ado, I moved in behind her. Sensing my movement, she spread her knees farther apart. I lined myself up and smooth and easily slipped into her pussy. At first I couldn't fit all the way, though. Realizing she was missing out on the full experience so to speak, she moved her thighs still wider apart and arched her back. I was able to penetrate deeper, and soon I was able to feel the satisfying slap of my hips into her buttocks with each thrust. Her finely toned glutes rippled just right with each of my thrusts. "Oh my god...Ooohhhhh!" She now buried her face in the bed, lifting her rump, and overwhelmed by the feeling of my size insider her. "It's SO big, does it hurt?" Crystal asked, watching now as her friend was speechless with delight. "Nooooohhh," she sighed, "it feels WONDERFUL. I mean, I feel like I'm stuffed the point of bursting, but it feels great!" I have to say, earth women were doing wonders for my ego. "I don't know if I could take one that big..." she said wistfully. "I'm sure you can, my dear," I smiled, "don't worry, I'll go slow." I pulled out of Nicole and moved between Crystal's thighs. She bit her lip nervously, but lifted her legs gamely, spreading wide for me. I positioned myself at the entrance to her vagina, but I did not enter immediately. I held my dick and rubbed it against her vulva, and up and down against her clit. "Go ahead," she said nervously. I pushed just my tip in past her inner wall. It was TIGHT—no virgin, but I'm sure she was much less experienced than her friend. And being afraid made her tense up even more. I pushed my tip in and out, in and out, in and out, just a few inches deep. Her opening stretched to accommodate my girth, and soon it was quite comfortable. Seeing that I wasn't going to split her open, Crystal relaxed, and so I was able to press further. I stroked, not too quickly, pressing just a bit deeper every time. After a dozen thrusts I no longer needed to use my hand to maintain position. Soon I was comfortably plunging into her receptive pussy. She grabbed her knees to help spread herself open to receive me. Her eyes looked up at me with a mixture of pleasure and wonder. She made little squeaks every time I reached maximum penetration. Nicole in the meantime lay on her back next to Crystal, just like she had when I was fellating them—she wanted another turn. I decided I had better give it to her now, because Crystal was looking every bit the barely legal cheerleader, and it was going to make me cum soon. I wanted to be sure that when I climaxed, it was in the right pussy! I pulled out of Crystal, moved over two feet and plunged into Nicole. Whereas I was careful with Crystal, I showed Nicole no such mercy. I filled her up and slammed it down, over and over—and she loved it. I had to admit, Nicole knew how to screw. I think she knew it, too, which is why she was still single—she had the tools to land a big fish, she figured, and she was probably right. Maybe someday she would find her millionaire, but I doubted she'd ever find another fish, pardon the pun, that would fill her as fully as she was right now. Still, it was getting me off to watch her get off...too much. I wanted to be sure Crystal was on the receiving end of my load. Time to switch again. Out of Nicole, shift left, into Crystal. This threesome stuff was kind of fun. When she lifted her legs, though, I held them and lifted them onto my shoulders. I leaned over her and plunged even more deeply into her belly than before. Our eyes were now close together too; I tried to read what she was thinking, but it looked like it was pretty much just "wow." I knew I was close, so I didn't want to switch pussies again, but sensed Nicole would grow impatient quickly. So I shifted back so that I could support myself just with my legs and by leaning against Crystal's calves on my shoulders, freeing my hands. I reached to my left and stuck my index finger into Nicole's slit and rubbed her clit with my thumb, inducing the currents again. In seconds she was moaning; that should keep her busy. I thought I would do something similar to Crystal, but I wanted to be closer to cumming first. Instead, I grasped her nipple and let the currents run through it. Somewhat to my surprise, when combined with my dick plowing her pussy she was responding almost as strongly as Nicole. As both girls got more excited, they both focused increasingly inward on the pleasure, becoming less aware of the rest of their surroundings as the intensity of their inner experience increased. It was hot to watch them both getting off, and I felt my dick grow more rigid. I stepped up my pace, even as their breaths became shallower. Superf***er Vol. 02 Nicole got off first, curling her hips up as her orgasm commenced. I don't think her first set of shudders was even over when my dick felt Crystal's inner walls spasming around me—although she was quiet this time, the look on her face confirmed she was coming again, too. Her face took on a peaceful, angelic quality, which was a starkly arousing contrast to the fact that she was naked and my dick was buried between her thighs. I looked over at Nicole for a moment—in orgasm, she looked like the dirty slut she was. Then I looked back at beautiful Crystal, and again I was reminded of a barely legal cheerleader. I smiled slightly, and thrust even harder at the thought. Plus it was pretty cool that I had set off two orgasms almost in synch... Unngghhh....make that...three. ------------------ We lay on the king bed, one girl under each of my arms, they snuggled up to me, some stupid movie on the 42 inch flatscreen. Crystal, ever mindful of others, peeked out at the others; Carmen had fallen asleep on the couch, and Amber had found her way to one of the guest bedrooms. If they had ever investigated what we had been up to, none of us noticed. She returned to my side, and in minutes she was asleep. Nicole, like me, was wide awake (in my species, it is women not men that get sleepy after sex) at first, but as we relaxed the tolls of a long day took us both out before the movie ended. When I woke, Crystal was the only one up—she was dressed and sitting at the dining room table, texting someone, not sure what do with herself. "Good morning, my dear," I smiled, walking over to her and kissing her. "Thank you for a wonderful evening..." Before she had a chance to respond, Carmen, probably awakened by the sound of my voice, started stirring "what...where am I?" Crystal shot me an affectionate glance, then went over to help orient her friend. I called room service and ordered breakfast for everyone; the smell eventually woke Amber and Nicole. We made small talk; the girls were driving back to LA that day, but they had to go back to their rooms to change and check out. I offered to get them a limo back, but they insisted it was just down the street and they wanted to walk. The thanked me for breakfast and headed out. I kissed Carmen and Amber like polite friends; I kissed Nicole like the morning-after that it was; I kissed Crystal like it wasn't just the morning after, but that other mornings might follow. I watched her shapely legs as she walked towards the elevator, imagined my sperm at work inside her. It was a shame, really, that I wouldn't be able to talk to her again, given my mission, because I really did kind of like her. Heck, I couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like to go solo with her... She gave a little wave as the elevator door closed and they disappeared from sight. I sighed and glanced at my watch—10am. Time to get my daily play in, make some money, then go to it again. I couldn't wait to see what my next human sex partner would be like. Superf***er Vol. 03 Reluctant Superhero I loved hearing her squeak as she absorbed my pelvic thrusts. Her pussy was stretched to the max trying to accommodate the dick whose size had left such an impression on her, but that just made it feel better for both of us. Even by my standards, Zola was a nice catch: a feature dancer at a long-running topless review, her face was plastered on billboards all over Vegas. Her breasts, while augmented, were so professionally done that I needed to use my infrared vision to see where the incisions had been made, and her nipples were pink gumdrops that I couldn't resist popping into my mouth again and again. But I most appreciated her dancer's body--muscled, lean, exceptionally flexible, all of which made me reminiscent of females of my own species. She was damn near doing the splits so that her pussy could make room for me, yet it seemed to take no effort at all to stretch so far. Not only did I appreciate her as an outstanding example of your species, but I also appreciated how little effort it taken to bed her. I know, that sounds surprising, the girls that work the strip reject twenty guys before breakfast--that's where my not-so-little friend comes in. I was playing blackjack at the Pyramid, having spent so many hours at the Roman Forum where I was staying that I was becoming concerned they might start to notice that I was coming out ahead 4-5k per day. They didn't know me at the Pyramid, so when they saw me playing purple the pit boss came over and gave me tickets to the show--in the special players' row that guarantees that you will be part of the show. Zola, dressed in a man's suit for that number, was grinding her butt into me like a lap dancer. I was surprised how aroused the show had made me, so I was as erect as I could get in the stupid tight pants you humans wear. The spotlight was on her as she danced, but up close I saw her give me a little frown. "Vaht did you do, shtick a salami down your pants?" she whispered disgustedly and with an accent I recognized as Russian. Having first come to your planet through a wormhole in space-time in the wake of the Tunguska impact, Russian had been the first earth language I'd learned. It caught her by surprise when I responded to her in her native tongue, but she was professional enough that the audience had no idea she was even speaking. "Nyet, that's really me darling," To emphasize my point, I twitched my penis; she could sense the slight pressure. "Stop by the dressing room after the show," she replied in Russian. I did. She and the other two feature dancers came out after the show to wave and be polite to the guests, occasionally signing items for guests. She whispered to me in Russian that I should wait for her at the famous Politburo vodka bar. I did, and an hour later she showed up with another of the dancers. I had by then secured a corner booth and bottle of the rare Russian vodka, still distilled from potatoes like it should be, on ice--the bottle, that is. You would NEVER put ice cubes in the vodka itself. Between speaking Russian and my knowledge of vodka, suitable impressions were made. Once she slipped her hand into my pants (since nothing else would convince her my dick was really that big) it was only a matter of time before she lay naked below me in the master bedroom of my suite, testing it out for herself. My dick seemed harder than usual while I was fucking her. She was just such an outstanding physical specimen, her blonde hair mashed into the pillow, her hips raised to accept my penetrations. I was getting close to cumming, so it was time to pull out the stops with her. I gently tweaked one of her nipples between my thumb and forefinger. The tender flesh completed the circuit between the negative ions in my thumbs and the positives in my fingers, producing a very pleasing tingle. Her attention had been focused on feeling my dick fill her to bursting, but now suddenly there was the addition of an extremely pleasurable sensation from her nipple. She drew in her breath and her mouth opened slightly. I pounded her pussy with a bit more intensity. Keeping my thumb and forefinger in an L-shape, I gently slid it down the length of her torso, the pleasant tingle moving with it. An adaptation to help males of my species lower the defenses of our females, it had proven to be a devastating tool when sex with humans. I thrust harder still as I watched her face, rapt in pleasure and about to get the thrill of a lifetime. I moved closer and closer to her wide open and hairless crotch. Without letting up my driving thrusts, I lay my thumb on one side of her clit and my finger on the other, so that the pleasurable currents ran straight through her clitoris. This had triggered intense orgasms in every human I'd fucked so far, usually in less than sixty seconds, and Zola was no exception. "Oh my god, oh my god..." she cried out, followed by something in Russian I confess I didn't understand--I may have lived on your planet for a hundred of your years, but I just started having sex with the locals. I was now wailing away, too, because watching human females have orgasms almost always brings me off. She was practically screaming now, and then it hit. There was no mistaking it, because all of a sudden she went from being spread out wide before me to being wrapped around me. She locked her legs behind me, threw her arms around my neck, and clung to me tightly. She was so light, she lifted herself off the bed entirely; she was suspended in mid-air, impaled on my pole. She held tight as her deepest insides shuddered; I fucked her pussy at warp speed. She relaxed her grip a bit as her orgasm subsided, but kept her suspended by simply grabbing a cheek in each hand and fucking her like a madman. She held on, laying her head on my shoulder, pushing her knees out even further, and tried to slide my penis in even deeper, only I was already battering her cervix with every thrust. She had no more room to give, but I didn't need more...I could feel the stirring start in my balls. All she could is hold on as I became rigid as iron. Then I sighed as my orgasm filled her with sticky love juice. ---------------- I slept very well that night, but my peace was to be short-lived. I went downstairs in the morning, humming to myself, thinking breakfast-y thoughts. "Good morning, Bill," said the player's concierge. Most players are addressed formally, but I insist that everyone just call me Bill. "Good morning," I replied cheerily, thoughts still savoring the memory of the dancer curling around me in orgasm the night before. "Are you going out, sir?" "Breakfast time," I replied. "Just be alert, sir...there's a red sedan parked outside that is well known to be a private investigator. We don't know who his target is today, but we're pretty sure he's been hired to follow someone." "Huh," I answered, "that's good to know. Thanks to all you guys for being on top things!" I slipped him yet another $20 tip. I walked outside and took a hard right, thinking thoughts of fresh crepes at the Tour Eiffel. I saw the red car and walked past. About fifty yards away, I heard a car door open. In the reflection of a just-cleaned window, I saw an overweight man in his early 30s waddling out of the car and heading my direction. What? Was he after me? My mind raced...already? I quickly switched directions and headed into the main casino of the Roman Forum property. I made a beeline for the high stakes tables area, knowing that security wouldn't allow him to follow me there. I responded in kind to the friendly good-mornings of the morning shift; they all knew me here. Rather than play, though, I headed right to my host's office. It was time to get out of Vegas. --------------- No, I wasn't surprised to be being followed by a private eye, only that it was happening already. A month ago, I came to Vegas hoping to finally get back to my home planet 300 light-years away through a wormhole following an asteroid collision in the Nevada desert. Then my Interplanetary Motion Simulator updated to tell me that the asteroid had been diverted, and the next collision big enough to create a wormhole wouldn't be for 20 years. Then came the really bad news--that collision would be with an antimatter comet. The resulting clash of matter with antimatter would obliterate the entire inner half of your planetary system. Now, thanks to the harsh environmental conditions on my home planet, our species has evolved a number of abilities you might term superhuman, but even I can't divert a comet alone. Facing obliteration like the rest of the planet, I came up with a desperate plan; if my biology was so similar to humans that in over 100 years I'd never been recognized as alien, maybe, just maybe, we could cross-breed, and the hybrids might inherit some of the superhuman traits of my species. And so, in violation of every ethical principle of interplanetary exploration, I undertook the quest to raise an army of half-human hybrids, one female at a time, that when the day comes we might be able to band together and save the planet. From that day on, I'd been out fertilizing a new human female every night. I knew at this point that conception and implantation were possible, but it was still eight months before we'd know if a viable fetus would result. Nevertheless, by now probably a dozen or so previous partners would know or suspect they were pregnant--in my species, male sperm carries hormones that stimulate ovulation, so I anticipated a high fertilization rate. Still, I thought I'd have another two or three weeks before they started looking for me. I was wrong. My host was actually somewhat relieved to hear I was leaving; I'd never stayed for a month before, and I was blocking a prime suite that could be used by other players. But when he asked if he could fly me somewhere, I realized I had no idea where I should go. I had no ties to any place on this planet, save maybe here where I'd been regularly earning my rent for twenty years. "Yes please, but I haven't decided where I'm going," I declared. Until five minutes ago, I hadn't planned on leaving just yet. "Domestic or overseas?" "Oh, definitely domestic." Ever since the crackdown on passports, I've felt trapped in the U.S., not trusting my fake passport would not pass muster at the border. Obviously I couldn't get authentic ones anywhere, since I wasn't born on this planet. "OK, as long as its domestic just tell the pilot where you want to go when you arrive. But it'll take me a couple of hours to round up a pilot and a plane..." "No hurry, just let me know when it's ready." I went back to the room, packed, and ordered room service. So, where should I go? I felt indecision paralysis—there were women everywhere, and I felt confident I'd find suitable partners in all but the most desperate armpits of the world. I sat in my hotel, scrolling around on a map website, trying to pick a destination. Miami? Austin? Phoenix? Boston? They had lots of redheads there, and I was intrigued by redheads, since red hair is unknown on my planet. I was also growing quite fond of the largeness of human breasts, real or otherwise. My planet is the size of your Jupiter, and it's hard to resist the heavy tug of our gravity for very long with big titties, and so since saggy isn't sexy small but perky has been preferentially selected. My encounter with Zola had somehow made me miss my own kind. I was looking for a girl that was tall, thin, muscular, and athletic to remind me of home. The knock on the door announced the arrival of breakfast. It was good, but not the same as having authentic crepes made by a real French chef, which is what I thought I'd be having. I flipped on the TV for some noise while I ate. Surfing channels, I happened upon of the human pastimes I truly enjoy—volleyball. A wonderful game, one I hoped to someday import back to my own planet. I didn't really play—I'd get too competitive, and would forget not to let on that I could easily jump clean over a volleyball net and blow my cover. Back on my planet, my native jumping ability would equal that of you here, whereas you would have great difficulty even walking. We would have to make the ball a lot lighter, though, and we'd have to play on a magnetically neutralized court...more on that later. This happened to be beach volleyball, and for obvious reasons the telecast was focusing on the female bracket. As I watched two of the best female pairs in the world duking it out in a nailbiter, it suddenly dawned on me that they, more than most humans, reminded me of my own kind. They tended to have strong muscles, defined abs, and small breasts as a result of all that exercising—thus looking a lot more like the females of my native world. I didn't know if I'd have a chance to nail one, but just watching them play would at least give me something to do during the day. Returning to my laptop, I pulled up the pro beach schedule and found they were playing a tournament in Tampa starting tomorrow. At last—a destination! -------------- Next morning I was out at Anna Maria beach, watching the girls playing ball. I watched three successive matches on center court, and while the tall, slim girls did remind me of my own kind, I decided that I wasn't going to try to score with any of them. Not only would I have to contend with security to get close to them, but I didn't want to be prematurely ending anyone's career by knocking them up. I was, however, duly impressed with a handful of the beach bunnies watching alongside me. After watching the #1 team in the world dispatch an overmatched but very cute pair from Europe, I wandered around the beach in search of food, and in the process stumbled across the other major draw of Anna Maria—surfing. Stuffing a boardwalk hot dog down my throat, I watched a couple dozen surfers trying to make the best of decidedly mediocre waves. Most of them were dudes, but there were three or four girls, all of them long-haired, skinny and looking good in bikinis. I guess if I wanted girls like back home, I should spend more time on the beaches. I watched the surfers paddle out then ride back in time and again; I could certainly go for stuffing one of those cuties tonight. Once the sun went down, I was pretty sure I'd find them in the bars by the beach. My super-human abilities have led me to identify with Kent Clark of your comic books, but I never considered super-hearing to be one of them. Yet in the midst of all the activity and the crashing of the waves, I heard a distant "Help." I turned immediately towards the lifeguard tower, expecting to see him racing out to perform a sea rescue—but he just sat there, too cool for himself. "Help," I heard again. It was coming from out at sea. I ran over to the lifeguard station and yelled up. "There's someone calling for help!" "What? Where?" I felt like I'd just awakened a Doberman. I heard it again. "It's coming from over that way," I said, pointing. "Dude, I don't hear anything," he said, but he did grab his binoculars and search the horizon. Finally he said, "dude, you're hearing things. There's nothing out there!" "Help," I heard again, more faintly, as if drifting away. I was used to having superior vision, but there was nothing about my auditory system that should give me an advantage hearing, I thought. Maybe it wasn't a physical hearing advantage—maybe my brain was just better at signal-noise detection. After all, on my planet there are always at least three volcanoes active at any one time; we evolved in a frequently noisy environment. Perhaps we acquired finer voice detection to compensate. I squinted so that I could activate my infra-red vision (another adaptation made necessary by volcanoes and the frequent occurrence of ash clouds). The surfers appeared as red glows against the blue waves—but in the distance, I saw what looked like a tiny red dot of heat far in the distance. I looked up at the lifeguard, but he clearly was not going to pay any further attention to me. "Well, if you're not going to check it out, I will," I announced. Good thing I had decided to wear my suit to the beach today. Tossing my shirt at the foot of the tower, hiding my wallet and watch beneath, I strode into the waves. Vacationers played in the surf, walking out gingerly, then jumping into the waves as the water pulled them back ashore. I strode out unwaveringly until it was up to my hips, then dove in headfirst and started swimming. In a few minutes I was out among the surfers. One of them called out "dude, there's a pretty strong current, and there's been lots of shark sightings. I wouldn't swim much farther if I were you." "Thanks for the warning," I called over my shoulder as I came up for air, then continued steaming out to sea. I knew I wasn't imagining things. I could hear the calls for help more clearly now, although they were becoming fewer and farther between. I wondered that the surfers didn't seem to hear, but no matter—since only I could hear the voice, only I could find its source. It was somehow symbolic of my entire saving-the-planet mission. I kept swimming in the direction of the sound. It was loud now, a female voice, and I could tell now it was screaming at the top of its lungs. Its faintness from shore just went to show how far out she was. I saw the first dorsal fins before I saw her. I pulled up, treading water. One fin passed from left to right about 20 yards in front of me. Another fifty yards or so beyond that, there was a figure clinging to floating object, and in the same frame, at least six other dorsal fins. Oh man. I waited until there were no dorsal fins in a direct line between us, and then I tucked my head down and raced to her side at full, superhuman speed. I saw now that it was a young woman, trying to balance herself on top of half of what had once been a kayak. She had large, red gouges on her upper thigh that suggested what had happened before she told me. "Oh thank god," she gasped, "I was kayaking out in the open water and a shark attacked my boat! Ripped the back end right off. I started rowing toward shore, and it came back, this time right near me. It got me right on the leg—it probably would have taken my leg clean off, only I bashed it with my paddle and it let go. Unfortunately it also shattered my paddle. I've been trying to stay afloat on what's left of my boat..." She didn't need to tell me that the boat was rapidly sinking. She was trying to keep her bloody leg out of the water, but as the boat sank lower she was failing. Red trails stained the water around her. Just then she cried "oh god, here it comes again," and ducked. Her reaction told me that what she saw was behind me; I spun around and found a shark approaching at full charge. I took a deep breath and dove; the shark, not expecting me to move, let alone that quickly, passed over the top of me. It did a quick turn and dive, surveying with the side of its eye how it had missed. I swam down after it. I've mentioned before the poor air quality on my home planet and how my lungs are so much more efficient as a result—turns out that also means I can hold my breath a lot longer than humans can. I kept following him, expecting that he would soon resume the attack. As soon as he did, I steamed straight for him. Again, I didn't do what he expected, and so he stopped swimming. I did not, and I attacked him with a full power punch in the snout—probably the first time I'd used my full strength on Earth. I hurt it. It was stunned, but its snout was also off-kilter; being a cartilaginous fish, it was kind of like having a broken nose. It turned and fled. I returned to the surface, but things were worse not better. Having lost a lot of blood, the girl was struggling to keep conscious. She had slipped off the boat and was now just head and shoulders above water. Surely the sharks could smell the blood. Superf***er Vol. 03 I swam over to her. I swam on my back, like a crawl, holding her above me and working to keep her head above water. I was no longer sure she was conscious. And this was not going to work—I could maybe take on one shark if I saw it coming, but I was not going to be able to hold off six or ten sharks by myself, keeping her afloat at the same time, with her trail of blood triggering their killer instinct. The only way I was going to get us out of here was to fly. ----------------- As much as I like your Kent Clark, clearly the author has never thought the flying thing through very far. How exactly does he propel himself through the skies—fart power? Hovering, on the other hand, can be pretty easy if you have control over your magnetic properties. Although nowhere near as strong as ours, your planet has a magnetic field, too, only you don't notice it because you have no innate magnetic sensors and magnetic particles in your bodies are unaligned and thus exert no force. Just as positive and negative ions are naturally segregated between my fingers and thumb, so too I can naturally align the charged particles in my body, and if I put them at reverse polarity to the surface, I can levitate above it. It also makes airport metal detectors tickle like crazy, but that's another story. I picked up the girl about the waist and aligned my magnetodes. We shot out of the water about two feet—and hung there. As you may know, magnetic fields weaken exponentially with distance, and bearing the extra weight of the girl, that was about as high as I could go. I shifted her so she was laying across my arms, almost like a bride is carried over a threshold. Below me, I saw the most confused sharks in the history of earth thrashing about in the blood-strained water, wondering where the dinner went. My amusement was short-lived. I had two problems. One, this girl needed medical attention. Two, the only way to get out of here and get that attention would be to use my super-human abilities. I had managed to hide my extra-terrestrial nature for over a century—I really didn't want to give myself away now by flying onto the beach. All of my worst nightmares about being locked up and studied by scientists flashed through my head. Sure, I could break out, but my face would be all over the news and I'd never be able to seduce enough women to save the world. I looked around, using my infrared vision; there was some other land north of me. I vaguely recalled there being various islands near the bay; perhaps I could bring her ashore at one of those, unseen, and then get her the attention she needed. I slightly shifted my magnetic field, which sometimes can push you horizontally, but either it was too weak or the field was too uniformly vertical here; we merely sank back towards the water. I let us, though, then when I was just touching the water kicked against it while realigning my magnetodes. We slid a few inches over, levitating again. I sighed; if this were land, where I could get a good push-off, magnetic levitation would allow us to glide laterally for a long time. Here, where most of my energy simply pushed water aside, our lateral movements were painfully slow. Bit by bit I headed towards the shore, not so much flying as leapfrogging across the surface of the water in a series of tiny bounds. As I neared the island, I could see a narrow sand beach, completely deserted. In fact, it showed no sign of human habitation at all; most likely part of a nature preserve, I thought. But that was good, because I was able to leap-step right onto the beach unseen. I lay her down on the sand near the edge of the a palm grove. She made a sound, half moan and half mumble, as I lay her down, then she fell silent again. Perhaps she wasn't completely unconscious, but she was bleeding badly. She needed a tourniquet to at least slow the blood loss, but I didn't have anything that I could use. The only cloth we had were my swim trunks and her tiny bikini. Next to her one knee, I squinted to activate my infra-red vision and scanned around the island, looking for perhaps an emergency phone, or a path to a ranger station. I saw nothing. Sensing the need for urgent action, I risked flying again. Without the added weight, I now hovered easily just above tree level using magnetic repulsion—but I saw no signs of life. This was apparently a deserted island, this close to Tampa! Then I squinted towards the mainland, and realized I was a lot further out than I realized. Since I couldn't use my powers within sight of humans, it looked like we might be here for awhile. I let myself drift back down to the sand. Along the way, some coconuts caught my eye; I picked one in each hand on the way down. All this water, none of it usable to drink or wash her wounds; some coconut water might at least help her replenish fluids. But first I had to stem the bleeding, or she would die anyway. I went to her side. I needed something that I could tie tightly and securely around her upper thigh to slow the flow of blood. Palm fronds—they'd just tear. Rope? Yeah right. I looked at her, and saw exactly what I needed—only there was a slight problem. She was still wearing it. I looked around again, and nothing else I could see would do the job anywhere near as well as her bikini top. "I trust you will understand," I said as I rolled her over slightly to untie her top, both at her back and her neck. Returning her to her back, I grabbed the bikini and tied it tightly around her upper thigh, right above the first tooth mark, with both strings. The flow of blood slowed. Good. I looked up at her; she was unconscious. I couldn't help but notice that her belly was flat and muscular and her breasts were firm and perky...she was exactly the kind of girl I'd come here hoping to find. I forced myself to look away. Now let's get some fluids into her. I ripped the fibrous husk off one of the coconuts—a rather difficult task for most humans as I understand, but I had no such trouble. I placed the fibers in a pile, as they may come in handy for something. Now, how to open the inside without spilling the precious liquid—I did something no human could. I held it firmly in one hand, and simply poked a hole into its hard shell with two fingers. Sitting behind her, I propped her head up on my lap. Gently pulling her lower jaw, I poured a little of the water into her mouth. It dribbled back out. I poured in a little more. She started to cough it out, but she also swallowed a little. I did it again, and she stirred and drank it; she seemed to be coming round to the fact that there was liquid in her mouth. She opened her eyes for the first time since her boat sank, blinking with puzzlement. "It's coconut water," I announced, "drink." I poured a little more in, and now she thirstily gulped down the entire contents of the coconut. "Wha....where..." she murmured, dazed. "You're on dry land," I said, "You've been bitten by a shark. I'm on the lookout for a rescue boat." "Unngghhh," she groaned and was out again. I sat there and watched the fragile creature with her head nested on my lap. It was really my first chance to get a good look at her. I guessed she was in her early 20s, with sandy blonde hair made more so by being mottled with real sand. She was very fit, with well-defined biceps suggesting kayaking was familiar to her—it would have had to be, for her to be venturing as far out as she was in the open sea. Again my eyes were drawn to her breasts; I forced myself to focus on her wound instead. I laid her head down gently on the sand again and went to kneel next to her and get a closer look at her thigh. The bleeding was slower, but she was still oozing, darkening the sand beneath her leg. It didn't look that bad, actually, in that there were deep punctures but not much evidence of tearing; assuming she didn't catch an infection, she would be unlikely to lose the leg. Unfortunately, the bite did sever some kind of major blood vessel, and was in danger of bleeding to death. I could easily pick her up and fly her to a hospital on the mainland, I thought. But the more I thought about it, the more I knew that really, I couldn't. If I were seen flying, my alien identity would immediately be "outed." I'd be placed in isolation, as scientists would ostensibly fear what germs I carried (even though I'd lived here for a century) but really just because they feared me. Maybe I could fly somewhere towards shore and then walk her in, I thought. But that wasn't really feasible, either. We were by a major metropolitan area; there was no uninhabited area on the mainland shores, or if there was I'd be sure to be seen by boats. Maybe if it were nighttime... The girl started stirring a little, twisting slightly. The good news was she was maybe coming around...the bad news was some of the clotting that had begun gave way, and she was starting to get sand into her wounds. Damn! If only I could wash the wounds, it might help prevent infection, but all that was around was salt water, and that obviously would make things worse. I poked the second coconut and poured some of the coconut water onto it, hoping it wouldn't sting and thinking it would have fewer microbes than the sand. If only I had some kind of dressing I could put over the wounds... Frowning, I put my hands on my hips, looking around for something I might use to cover them. Scanning, I saw nothing, but as I looked a little bell was ringing in the back of my head. It was coming from my fingers. It took a while to register; when it did, I looked down at myself. Oh, man, could I... My trunks, I realized, might be a perfect dressing now that they had dried. I got up and squinted to activate my infrared vision. Was there really nobody anywhere near here? I searched high and low; I could see easily five miles in any direction with infrared, and there wasn't any sign of human life. I sighed and started to undo the drawstring on my swim trunks. It wasn't that I had any personal compunction against nudity; our kind are in general much less uptight about our bodies than you are, at least in this country. But it was going to be rather interesting to explain to whoever first found us why I was naked and she was topless. Oh well...I took off my shorts, careful not to drag them in sand, brushed them off as completely as I could, and lay it over her oozing leg. She seemed to stiffen slightly for just a second. I watched her to see if she showed any other signs of coming to, but for the next five minutes she didn't. Then, very faintly, I noticed that she was beginning to shiver. The sun was just starting to set, and the temperature was still in the 80s, but after losing that much blood she was having trouble temperature regulating. Since, to my surprise, it looked like we might still be here after dark, I decided I'd better see about starting a fire. Firewood wasn't hard to find; the beach was littered with dry driftwood, and the coconut husks made good kindling. I had no matches or anything, though. No problem—at least, not for me. I've told you before how males of our species have evolved an ionic imbalance in our fingers relative to our thumbs that can produce miniscule electrical currents that can help soothe and relax a our females, who might otherwise respond to our advances by putting us in the hospital. Turns out that if I snap my fingers quickly enough, a tiny spark will sometimes pass between my fingers—perhaps that explains why the practice is unheard of on my planet. I'm talking tiny; its barely discernible even in absolute darkness. But if it landed on the right kindling... I made a bed of coconut husks and put my hand in it, like a nest. Then I snapped my fingers rapidly, over and over again. After a few hundred snaps, a faint glow appeared on one of the strands. I quickly bent over and blew softly on it, keeping it alive long enough to ignite one next to it. I gently coaxed that tiny spark until finally a tiny flame erupted and the mass of husk began to ignite. I now quickly thrust some sticks where my hand had been, then made a flat tepee of driftwood. Laying flat on my face, I looked in to the tiny flame and blew on it, from one angle then another, until it grew and the driftwood at length began to burn. I sat on the sand, gripping my legs, waiting, feeding the fire from time to time. It was a beautiful sunset, but I watched it alone, as the girl didn't wake up. With the fire, though, at least she stopped shivering. I pricked up my ears, listening into the darkness; we were in a very exposed position, with the fire calling attention to us. I didn't know if there were any predators on the island, but I hadn't gone through all this trouble to save this girl only to be eaten by alligators. There was danger all right, but it turned out to be of an entirely different sort. An hour or so after sundown, I heard the unmistakable sound of an outboard motor in the distance. Rescue! I thought at first. I stood up and squinted to activate my infrared vision; there was a distant speck that was getting closer. I couldn't tell yet what kind of craft it was because it appeared to be heading straight for us. It didn't look very big though—not like I thought a Coast Guard or forestry service boat should look. If anything, it looked like a cigarette boat. It was way too far out to begin trying to signal, but something gnawed at the back of my mind. All day long nothing even passed by this island, and now, after dark, a cigarette boat is heading straight for us? As I started to make out some details, I saw heat specks from maybe 3 or 4 people, and a bright spot from a hot motor—and it dawned on me I didn't see bright pinpoints generated by the heat of running lights. I stopped squinting; there was almost no moon, so the lights of a boat should have been visible from very far away, but I saw nothing. Maybe I'd watched too much TV in the 80s, but a single boat racing at high speed in the dark with its running lights off—I suddenly became very concerned that these might be drug runners. I squinted again; without visible light I couldn't tell, but the way they seemed to be standing looked as if they might be holding guns. Another big difference between real life and Kent Clark; bullets will not bounce off my chest. Sure, if it was a single bullet in broad daylight I might have a fighting chance to snag it out of the air with my reflexes, but I was as helpless as anyone against multiple machine guns in the dark. And I had to decide fast, for the boat was closing fast and might already be able to see my fire. I cursed inwardly; as much as I wanted to save this girl, I had to make sure I survived first and foremost or the entire planet was doomed. I kicked waves of sand at the fire, squelching it in seconds. Then I picked up the girl, ran towards the tree line, and jumped. My magnetism might only hover me a few feet above the ground, but I was able to jump us both up to the tree canopy now that I was on firm ground. A palm tree canopy, however, is not an easy place to perch. I locked my legs around the trunk, half holding the girl while half-laying her against the fronds that would not alone support her weight. It was a good thing that this didn't take much energy for me. I watched as the boat drew near. It was barely 200 yards from shore when a spotlight suddenly switched on in the boat, shining right on the beach we had just vacated. I was temporarily blinded, but the boat suddenly swerved to the left. As my eyes re-adjusted to the darkness, the spotlight swung south. After a few minutes, the motor slowed, then cut out. Pricking up my ears, I could hear men coming ashore. "Luis, you stand guard. Flash the beacon twice if the Coast Guard comes. If its anyone else, deal with them," said a voice. I didn't hear anything for a bit, then I heard quite a bit of rustling from the middle of the island. From time to time a stray flashlight beam showed through the trees on the south end of the island. I heard some grunting and what I imagined were machetes cutting something. "Come on, hurry up. One more kilo is all we need for now," said the voice again. My imagination was painting a vivid picture of what may or may have been going on. Just then the girl began to moan and stir. If I ever make it back home, I'm going to introduce my people to this Murphy fellow whose law you like to cite at times when everything seems to go wrong. We have a similar concept, although our phrase isn't as prosaic. I suppose it would translate into something along the lines of "the loudest farts happen in church," but it seems to lose something from the original. I clasped my hand over her mouth. Her eyes snapped open in response. "Shh," I whispered. "You're balanced in a tree canopy, and there are men with guns down there." She glanced around, her eyes confirming that she was indeed precariously perched 30 feet above the ground. Wide-eyed, she looked at me. I moved my hand off her mouth and put a finger to my lips, then pointed in the direction of the flashes of light. She looked that way, but not able to see or hear as much as I, she looked to me instead. Suddenly she patted her chest, sensing that her bikini was missing. "Sorry," I hissed, "I had to use your top to wrap up your leg and slow the bleeding. You were bitten by a shark," I added, in case she didn't remember. All of a sudden she winced; by mentioning her leg, she had attended to it, and now it hurt. She bit her lip in pain. "Sorry," I whispered. There was rustling again. "Start it up Luis," said the voice. The motor cut in again, and the beacon turned on in the distance. I imagined the men wading out to the boat, and then I heard the throttle punch in as the light went out. The boat roared away towards the mainland. We sat quietly, listening, both of us, to the motor fade. "What's going on?" she whispered. "I'm thinking that maybe someone is doing a little growing on this island," I whispered back, "and it was harvest time." "How do we get down?" she whispered. Hmm. Good question. I hadn't counted on her being awake. I could carry her down, but I would bump her repeatedly, to great pain. I would rather just glide down using magnetic repulsion. I'd have to take my chances that she wasn't alert enough to figure out what happened. I let go of the tree; she tensed up as she felt us fall, but instead of accelerating the magnetic repulsion slowed us as we approached the ground. I touched the ground gently and put her down. "What? How did you do that?" she said, stunned. "Hmm? I don't know what you're talking about," I said absently, walking down the beach for more firewood to avoid further questions. I built up a new fire, but blocked her view so that she couldn't see my start the fire just by snapping my fingers. That meant I was sticking my butt in her face, though, and she probably first realized I was buck naked. The tinder started to glow. "I...see you used your swimsuit as a dressing on my leg. How bad does it look?" She started to reach to look under the bloody fabric. "Don't," I whirled around, "I'm afraid it will start bleeding again. It doesn't look like there's any damage to the bone, but some major blood vessels were severed." She sucked in "it hurts like a son of a bitch." "I'm sorry. I tried to get all the salt off my shorts before I used them..." "I have no idea if that matters or not. It's just one, massive, undifferentiated pain." I saw her eyes suddenly widen, then she quickly diverted them; in spite of herself, she had seen my naked penis, and had been amazed at its size I guess. Really, I'm just average among my species, but I have to admit it feels good when humans react to it with such amazement. I was in a deep crouch with my butt resting on the back of my calves; I wasn't hard, yet my dick still dragged in the sand. There's a reason why I never wear tight pants. "Where are we?" she asked. Superf***er Vol. 03 "On an island in the gulf somewhere west of Tampa. I dragged you here because it was the closest land," I lied, "but I would have thought that there would be more boats going by this close to the city. What do you remember of the attack?" "I remember heading out in my open-sea kayak. I saw sharks, and headed towards shore to keep them on my left. Then next thing I know, my boat is capsizing, and when I get back upright the front half of the boat has been chewed off. I clung to the boat...that's all I remember. I don't remember getting bit." I nodded. "So how did I get here?" "I was out swimming, and heard your cry for help. You must have drifted for a long time. I swam out to find you, and dragged you towards the nearest shore. Fortunately what was left of the boat didn't sink until we were within a few hundred yards of land, and I was able to drag you ashore. I've been trying to flag down a boat all afternoon." "So I guess you saved my life," she said quietly. I didn't know how to respond; I suppose I had, but I didn't want thanks or anything. Luckily she broke the awkward silence. "My name is Anna," she said, "thank you for saving me." "Oh...I'm Bill," I said gratefully, reaching out to shake her outstretched hand. I shook it gently, but nevertheless she winced at the slightest vibration. I wished I had something to make the pain go away. Suddenly I remembered what had just transpired with the mysterious boat and got an idea. I picked up a fist-sized rock and handed it to her. "If anything crawls out the woods, chuck this at it and yell for me," I said, "I think that maybe there might be something we can do to help with the pain. I'll be back in five minutes...will you be OK if I leave you here?" "Yeah, sure," she said uncertainly, drawing herself up on her elbows so she could see better, "as long as I'm by the fire." "Great. Now don't go running off anywhere," I quipped. She did her best to smile at my impossible suggestion. ---------------- Once I was out of sight, I raced at superhuman speed to the general area where the boat had been. There wasn't much light, but when I squinted the men had been here recently enough that my infra-red vision could make out the traces of where they walked. I followed them inland into the palm groves. About ten yards in, there was what appeared to be a dense thicket, but with my infrared I could see that this was just a camouflage screen festooned with foliage. I put my hand out and could feel the thin wire mesh holding up the screen. I followed along the wire until I came to a large palm to which the mesh had been anchored. Pushing, I found it gave easily, allowed me to push it down so that I could step over it easily. Once past, I found a very different type of vegetation formation growing in abundance. Pretty smart, I thought, growing weed on a public nature preserve—and pretty ballsy. Perhaps they had already discovered what I was finding out—people almost never visited this island. I reached for the first plant and plucked off a number of leaves. I think I've said before that I'm a big fan of your alcohol, but I've never had use for any of your other mind-altering substances. For one, the last thing I needed was to be stoned and start spouting off about "back home." Consequently, I hadn't the slightest idea how to use the stuff, or how to prepare it. So I just plucked a small fistful of leaves, not sure how I would use them. Headed back towards the gap, and saw a pile of coffee sacks, a few cut open with some whole beans still inside, others dumped out and lying empty. A mode of transport to mask the smell, I guessed. I stepped over them, then had an idea. I picked two sacks up before stepping over the netting and replacing the camouflage. When I returned to Anna, I was wearing a burlap loincloth tied about my waist. It wasn't quite long enough, though, to completely cover my dick as it dangled between my legs; its tip just barely peered out when I was standing. I hoped it was too dark for her to notice. "OK, I found something that might help with the pain," I announced. "Where did you get that?" she asked, referring to my loincloth. "Just lying in the middle of a field of pot," I replied, tearing off a small corner of the other sack. I then tore a single long strip out of the rest, which I handed to her. "I wouldn't put this on your wound, but you might be able to make a top out of it." Getting the idea, she wrapped the sack around her breasts and tied the sack around her as best she could. It wasn't perfect, but it did cover them up. In the meantime, I took the little square, put the leaves in it, and rolled it up tight. "Oh my god, is that what I think it is?" she asked incredulously. "I haven't done that since high school." "And I don't do it at all, but they use it for cancer patients, so maybe it will help take the edge off for you, too." "At this point I'd try anything if I thought it might help," she answered bravely. "Its green, though, so I don't think it'll just burn," I said. I took a driftwood twig out of the fire that was glowing nicely. "You'll have to keep restarting the flame. Use this." It was completely serious, and yet it was hard not to laugh. Here she was, sitting in the sand, wearing a strip of burlap over her chest, holding a burlap joint to her lips, trying to puff and hold it against the fire at the same time, looking more like she was using a crack pipe than smoking. At first, it didn't seem like anything was happening. As the fire dried the leaves, though, there started to be a puff or two, and the distinctive smell started to waft around the fire. As the puffs of smoke became more regular, I asked "is it doing anything?" "I don't know yet," she puffed, "but it smells pretty strong..." Focusing on the rolled-up leaves in her hand, she puffed away at them until she couldn't hold them anymore without burning her fingers. Long before that, I could tell it was having some effect on her. Her breath had slowed and become more deliberate, as had her movement in general. Before she'd been jittery, hopped-up by pain no doubt; now she seemed, well, mellow. She put down the tiny unsmoked stub and looked up from her pseudo-joint. Like a bad stoner movie, the first thing she said was "Whoa." I didn't respond. "Shit...I didn't notice how strong that was until I lifted my head...shit..." She put her hand to forehead and lay down in the sand. "Are you OK?" "Wow," she said, eyes closed in the sand, "either it's been so long I don't remember what it's like, or that stuff was a LOT stronger than anything I've smoked before." "Does your leg still hurt?" "Hurt?" The question seemed to catch her by surprise. "Yeah, I guess if I think about it still hurts, but if I don't think about it...man, my fingers are tingling..." Great. Maybe I was better off with her suffering than with her stoned out of her gourd. "Oh, wow..." I really wasn't interested in trying to keep up a conversation Anna as long as she was thoroughly baked. "Good stuff, huh? Well, it doesn't look like we're going to get any more visits tonight. I'm going to look for something to lie on and get some sleep." "OK," she replied, not moving, seemingly watching something fascinating unfolding on the backs of her eyelids. I sighed as I trudged into the woods. I had better hope that we AREN'T found as long as she's tripping, I thought. They'll know right away she's high, and then they'll start asking ME all kinds questions, and of course they'll detain me once they realize they can't establish my identity. I really hated to have abandon her after all this, but I did NOT want to get discovered with her so obviously stoned. Once out of view, I allowed myself to levitate towards the treetops and pulled two big handfuls of palm fronds. I supposed I should have done so sooner, but there had been more pressing issues up to now. I drifted down and walked back towards the fire. Anna was sitting up now, but was intently studying a shell she'd picked up like the secrets of the universe were to be found in its ridges. Ignoring her, I laid a bunch of the palm leaves out in a rectangle on the sand. I then did the same in the space between Anna and the fire. "There," I announced when I was finished, "you might want to slide over and lay on this, it won't be so sandy. I'm going to bed." She looked up startled, unaware that I was right next to her, lost in her own haze. "What? Oh, dude, like, thats so clever! A palm bed! Thank you!" She slid over unsteadily and lay down. "Oh, WOW! Do those leaves ever feel WEIRD to lie on..." I lay down and turned away from her. I wasn't interested in listening to her augmented appreciations of everyday objects. I closed my eyes and surprised myself by almost immediately falling asleep. ------------------ I dreamt that I was back home, engaging in a sport that's sort of a cross between your hang gliding and surfing and involves navigating the hot air currents belched by spewing volcanoes. Then, I had the sensation that my pants were falling down in my dream. I was trying not to fall off my hoverboard, but trying to pull my pants back up. I shifted slightly, my conscious mind blurrily reminding me that I wasn't wearing pants. I became aware of a breeze, and twitching slightly I moved to pull the sack loincloth down lower. As I did, I became aware that there was something more than just the wind between my legs, and I awoke with a start. Thinking it might be an animal--shit, I hope not a crab or scorpion--I lifted my head slightly and peeked with my eyes. It was an animal all right, but certainly not of the type I was imagining. Anna had crawled around the fire, and was now gently touching the tip of my penis as it jutted out below the cloth. What the hell? As my senses returned, I realized she wasn't just touching it, she was gently running her fingers along it. It was feeling very good. "What are you doing?" I asked softly. I startled her. "What? Oh...I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," she said, although she continued to touch my penis fondly. "I saw that you were sleeping, and...well, I just had to find out if this was really your dick! When you were crouched over making the fire before, it was dragging in the sand...my god, I've never seen a dick that big! But I'm touching it, I can feel it's real. Wow...you're like the seventh wonder of the world!" "You could have just asked, I would have told you," I replied. "You shouldn't have dragged yourself through all that sand..." I propped myself up with my elbows and continued "if you got more sand in the wound, you might get infected. Defeats the whole purpose of giving you my shorts." I noticed now that she had discarded the makeshift canvas tube top. "What happened with your top?" "It was far too rough--it chafed my nipples," she replied, pausing from her touching to brush them briefly, then touching my dick again. Whether or not that was the reason, her nipples were fully extended, and while I continued to try not to gaze at them, it had not escaped my attention that her nipples were huge. They pointed straight out from their moderate mounds like a missile pointed at the sky. Their small areolas just made them look that much poinkier. I bet they'd be awesome to suck on, I thought, then forced myself to think about something else. It was too late; my dick had gotten harder at the thought and was starting to point upwards. Normally human pants help keep my monster in check, but the makeshift loincloth did nothing to dissuade its arising. "Oh my god," she gasped, "just how big does this thing get?" Before I could stop myself, I was saying "only one way to find out." Anna didn't need to be invited twice. Pushing the loincloth up and out of the way, she stroked it openly, dragging herself a few inches closer. Then, fondling my balls with her fingers, she reached in an kissed my dick. She moved her way up my length, alternating between kissing and licking it as she went. When she finally got to the top, she opened wide and began to suck me. She had no delusions of ever being able to suck it all, but she used her hands to make sure that the parts her lips could not reach were not forgotten. I just lay on my back and watched her. I watched her pretty face, I watched her toss her sandy hair out of the way, but mostly I watched her oversize nipples. They brushed against my leg, and I so wanted to taste one. That wouldn't be easy to do, but it was right by my hand, and I barely had to move to fondle one. Maybe it was because I'd been sleeping, but I'd forgotten for the moment about my fingers, or at least that the currents they generate are a new sensation for earth women. So when I touched her breast the pleasurable currents charged through her nipples, she reacted strongly. "Oh man," she sighed, "how do you DO that? I've never had anyone make my nipples feel that good." Oops. She dragged herself closer and pressed first her lips and then her tongue against mine. Her fingers never stopped stroking me. I felt her tense up for a moment, roll over slightly, and then kiss me again. I thought again about the wound in her leg; rolling around in the sand, so to speak, between increasing blood flow and exposure to foreign materials, might be signing her death warrant. I broke off Anna's kiss, pushing her away slight, declaring "Anna, stop. You're a very beautiful girl, but you've GOT to stop moving around on that leg..." "Look, there's no guarantee I'm getting out this alive. What if no one comes tomorrow? How many days can this thing fester without medical attention before I get infected and maybe die?" She was right, of course, but I was trying to avoid thinking it, in part so I didn't accidentally say something that would cause her to panic. It was surprising that she could think so clearly when clearly buzzing. "So how should I spend what might be my last hours on earth? Lying in pain on the sand, slowly bleeding to death? Or with a handsome man," she kissed my shoulder, "who risked his life trying to save me," she kissed me closer to the neck, working her way up, "with whom I am stranded on a romantic tropical island" "and who has the biggest, most wonderful penis in the world!" With that she kissed my lips again. I might have come up with arguments, but the insistent gentleness of her fingers on my flesh was melting any resolve to do so. I asked myself whether my hesitance was really about her health, of if maybe I wasn't sure how to react to being the seducee instead of the seducer. Well, hell, if she wanted it... "OK, I admit it," she continued, curling up slightly to be closer to my junk, "marijuana always did make me a cheap date. That's the main reason why I gave it up--but that's not why I want this. I mean, come on--I've had to look at this wonderful, monster dick all day--it would be just plain cruel of you not to show me what you can do with it..." and with that, she resumed sucking. I closed my eyes to enjoy the sensation. She wasn't a blow job expert in a tactical sense, that is she wasn't a practiced expert in how to suck, where to suck, when to suck, etc. But what she lacked in experience she made up for with conviction. She WANTED my dick, wanted to taste it, wanted to feel it in her mouth. Fate had thrown us in this lot together; we had a bond between us, and becoming more intimate was just a natural extension of our situation. "OK, but under one condition," I replied, rolling over and getting on my knees. "You lie on this mat, and I'll do all the work." "Yes sir," she smiled, laying flat on her back on the mat. Laying on her good leg while she bent the other to the side, I pressed my chest into hers and kissed her. She put her arms around me and soul kissed me deeply. Still kissing, I slid a hand down to her breast and touched her nipple. I felt a tiny shudder as the currents resumed. She released her grip; I sat up and played with both nipples simultaneously. Her face took on an expression of ecstasy and joy; her fingers reached down for my penis and stroked it. Letting go with my one hand, I bent over and anxiously licked and then quickly sucked the closest nipple. Still stroking the other with my charged fingers, I lovingly squeezed the nipple between my lips. I gave it the tiniest of love bites, then licked the tip as it protruded deep into my mouth. She sighed appreciatively. I switched hands and sucked the other one gently into my mouth. They were so firm and yet at the same time so delicate. I sucked on her mega-nipples for some time. I felt her hips start rise and fall as I continued sucking on her nipples. Her pussy was ready for some attention, too. I let the nubbin fall out of my mouth, then started making a trail of kisses down her flat belly. As I got nearer her crotch, I could smell her sex even before I took off her bottoms. Playfully, I grabbed the string on her left hip in my mouth and pulled. The knot holding her bottoms on began to give way, but it was triple-knotted so it wouldn't fall off and I eventually had to forgo the teasing and work with both hands to untie the knot. I supposed she usually didn't bother to retie them every time she put it on, but I wasn't going to be able to pull them off with the state her thigh was in. The knot finally let go, and I pulled the fabric loose. I went to do the other side, but Anna wanted me to turn around so she could suck me while I worked on the other knot. A nice gesture, but actually rather difficult to accomplish with the man on top when your dick is as big as mine. She really wanted to please me, though; she took as much of my dick down her throat as she could handle, eyes closed, and stroked the rest with both hands. Her attentiveness felt very good. The knot gave, and with anticipation I pushed the fabric off of her mound, freeing her pubis. There was a tiny thatch of neatly trimmed hair above her sex like a little hat, otherwise she was shaved clean. This girl must spend a lot of time in bikinis. I ran my tongue down the cleft between her legs. Lying head-to-toe, each lick began on her clitoris and proceeded down her lips. With each lick, the clitoris seemed a little firmer, protruded a bit more. My eyes were closed as I was focusing on the feelings of my tongue and dick, but it seemed to me that her clit seemed pretty big. I paused, lifting my head a little, and looked at what I had been tasting. Indeed, her clit had a huge head, which was now stiffly standing guard over the opening to her vagina. I thought about her huge nipples, and I supposed it made sense that her clitoris would be big, too. I guess I'm not the only one here with big genitals, I smiled. I moved my hands so that I could gently pry her out lips apart. The parted easily, eagerly. Inside was dark pink flesh and a tiny black hole. Holding her open, I licked her again, running my tongue down her clit, along the inside of her labia, and back again. In the meantime, Anna was trying to reciprocate. My dick was as far down her throat as she could take already, but now she worked extra hard with her tongue, lapping it as it passed in and out, licking the tip, making as much contact from sensitive tissue to sensitive tissue as possible. My dick strained upwards in pleasure; I had to lift myself higher off the ground to keep from gagging or even choking her with it. If you know what a plank exercise is, that's not far from what I was doing. Of course, in Earth gravity maintaining that position to allow Anna to pleasure me was no sweat. Anna's hip gyrations grew more intense the more I licked her. I was teasing her clit, running circles around it, doing figure-8s over it; it was so big, it was easy to play with. When she removed my penis from her mouth (still stroking it of course) because she was panting, I knew she was close to cumming. I stopped licking and thrust two fingers into her pussy. It was dripping wet, and I slid in easily. Then I took my thumb and placed it squarely over her clit, rubbing. The circuit was completed by releasing the pleasurable voltages through the heart of her most sensitive area. In seconds, I heard "Oh...oh..." She curled her hips up as shudders racked her entire body once, twice, three, four times. I smiled as I felt her cum under me. Superf***er Vol. 04 #4: The Foundation They walked into the room in a line, parading past us. Seventeen women, all young (or at least young-ish) and dressed to impress, doing their best to stand out among her peers to one of the eight of us men. Each of us sat by ourselves at a small bistro table, each carefully not looking at one another as we surveyed the lovely ladies walking past. The parade ended at the front of the ballroom where they stood in a line and stepped forward to and introduce themselves one by one. "Hi, my name is Jennifer. I'm 22, 5-7 and 113 pounds, 38-23-36, and I love to travel." "Hi, my name is Sasha..." each girl, as instructed, announced her name (first names only at this event), age, vital statistics, and one fast fact about her herself. Of course we knew all their names already, as they were neatly pre-printed on the selection sheet left at our tables. For now, all we needed to do was check which girls (up to three) that we definitely wanted to meet and up to one we absolutely didn't want to meet in the speed dating round that was to follow. In the next two hours each of us would meet 12 girls for eight minutes each, with two minutes to change stations in-between. But this was not your ordinary meet-and-greet. No, this was a meeting for women interested in becoming mistresses to meet prospective sponsors, each of which had to prove they had liquid assets of at least one million dollars to take part. Only in New York. No sooner had the last one introduced herself that the girls waved as one and headed back to the adjoining room while our hostesses collected our preference sheets. They were quickly scanned into a computer set off to the side. I chose three; Jennifer, and the two redheads in the group. Since red hair is unknown on my own planet, I consider redheads a definite treat when I can get my, uh, hands on one. One was kind of short and a little pixie-ish, very cute, name of Maura. The other was average height, slender, and stunningly beautiful. Her name was Amy. I had to hand it to them, the people staging this event were organized. Within ten minutes, we were having our first "date." Just my bad luck—Amy was first up. She was even more gorgeous up close. Her hair was dark red, straight, falling about three inches past the shoulder. She wore a green jewel-tone cocktail dress that brought out the color in her hair and pumps to match. The skirt was short; she crossed her legs as she sat at the table, and they were lovely and shapely in ultra-sheer hose. But what I couldn't take my eyes off were the fine, delicate freckles that ran down her neck. Her dress had spaghetti straps and a low neckline; the freckles continued down as far as I could see. I kept imagining how much further the freckles went, which made me even more tongue-tied when it was my time to talk. I had never done anything like this before and wasn't sure what to expect, and so I bumbled through my first attempt with the girl I most wanted to impress. We each got to ask a question in turn; I stumbled out of the blocks by asking about her family, which she really didn't want to tell me much about. Then she asked me what I did for a living. "I...have a family fortune," I answered. I'd not thought about what kind of questions I would be asked...I sounded like a leech, living off my family and doing nothing productive. Worse, it meant I might be cut off--if I had no secure cash flow of my own, she had no secure sponsor. I bumbled through my eight minutes with her. Her polite tone when she shook hands at the first bell to change told me that she'd written me off. I was dejected that I'd blown my chance with the girl I most wanted to meet. To compound things, they sent me Maura and Jennifer right after, bang bang. It wasn't until the second hour, when I was getting randomly drawn girls, that I started to get the hang of it. I realized I should be asking about what their requirements and expectations were, not about their personal lives. And when they asked what I did for a living, I just said "I'm independently wealthy." By the time I shook hands with the last girl, I was coming across as suave and in charge, like usually I do if I may say so myself. "Now, since there are eight of you here tonight, please rank the top eight girls that you would like to meet again in the private session, from one to eight. The girls have been asked to do the same. We will then match you with your most compatible match. For instance, if you rank a girl first and she ranks you last, that probably won't be a good match in the long run. If you rank a girl second and she ranks you first, on the other hand, that would be a better match. Now, if you gentlemen would like to move to the private dating room, your personally matched partner will be with you shortly." We were shown to a dimly lit room. There were eight love seats, arranged in four pairs back-to-back looking out from the center of the room. Privacy screens were placed between the backs of each pair and on either side of each sofa, creating semi private areas that, being three sided, seemed more like stalls than anything else. Each of us was shown to our own sofa; on each sofa was a rose we were to give our match when she appeared. As long as you remained seated, the desired effect of not being able to see the other men was achieved. We spent a few anxious minutes while the pairings were set. Then all of the lights were turned out, turning the room pitch black, pierced only by the floor-pointed flashlights of the staff as they guided the selected to the stall where their match was waiting. I sat there, crossing my fingers that somehow, in spite of my awkwardness, I'd be paired with my first choice, Amy. I wasn't. When the lights were turned back on and we saw our match, I had drawn Shelly, who I think had been my fifth choice. When the lights came on, a momentary look on her face told me that I hadn't been too high on her sheet either. But she quickly regained her composure; she had been selected, and more than half of the girls had not. Somehow, the earthling adage "beggars can't be choosers" seemed especially apropos given the context of this meeting. "It's so nice to get to meet you again," Shelly smiled broadly yet unconvincingly as she stepped forward and I handed her the rose. Don't get me wrong, she was very attractive, with long curly brown hair and a great body, but she had put me off by being so...calculating. I knew she was trying to put her best foot forward, after all a mistress is a big cash investment, but she came across as disingenuous. I didn't trust anything she said. Just then a deep bass beat kicked in out of nowhere. "Ladies, now's your chance to show your man just how SPECIAL and UNIQUE you really are! GO TO IT." Without further ado, Shelly started to dance for me. Turning around, she buffed by crotch with her miniskirt. Then she spun slowly, showing off her shapely legs, kicking off to the side in time to the music. Then she bent over me, letting her breasts hang down to display massive cleavage in her halter top. "You'll have to tell me more about what you like..." she breathed into my ear as she rubbed her chest upward across mine. Then she leaned back and parted the two halves of her halter further while covering herself with her bent arms. Then she sensually lowered her arms, rubbing her nipples on the way down so that they were sure to be erect when she showed them to me. I wondered whether she was or had been a stripper. Maybe she'd just taken a strip-for-your-lover class; I seemed to remember her telling me she had had a sponsor until recently, when he lost all his money in the stock market. Or maybe that was just a line, too. I'd been having sex with humans for eight months now, interbreeding with your kind to produce hybrid offspring that might inherit some of my superhuman abilities. The hope was together we could do what I alone could not--save the planet from total annihilation in a collision with a dark matter comet 20 years from now. At my one-a-day clip, I was over two hundred human lovers now--and this was the first time I thought seriously about sexually transmitted diseases. VD is unknown on my planet; I had been going under the assumption that we were immune, just as I seem to be immune to most of your earth viruses. But now I wondered if maybe STDs just hadn't evolved on our planet. Could there be a more disgraceful fate than to be the first member of your entire species to get VD? Oh well--if I didn't keep knocking up humans we'd all be vaporized in 20 years; STDs were a chance I was going to have to take. Staying clean was priority one for a mistress, so hopefully she would be clean--but as I say, I didn't really trust her. That didn't mean I wasn't enjoying my lap dance, however. This was much better than a strip club--when she thrust her breasts in my face, not only could I touch them, she wanted me to. They were impressive: soft yet firm, cantaloupe-sized, tan with no visible white lines. She smiled as she let me fondle them, reaching behind herself to untie her top and lifting it off over her head. This was the whole reason I was here; I'd heard that in their efforts to impress a sponsor, meet-a-mistress parties often ended in orgies. This wasn't quite what I'd pictured--it was better. I had imagined a group cluster-fuck; individualized sex booths meant I didn't have to deal with the jealousies of the other guys when they saw the size of my dick. Shelly how started bending down lower, lower, until she was kneeling in front of me. With purpose, she reached for my pants and started to undo my belt. She gave me the sexy eye as she pulled my wiener free of my shorts. Then she gave a start when she saw the size of the monster in her hands. "Oh my," she said, slightly flustered, "you are a big boy, aren't you?" I saw her gulp, and then wrap her lips around my dick and thrust it as far into her throat as it would go. Usually girls are pleasantly surprised by my size, and on more than one occasion it has been the clincher that landed a girl in bed with me. Shelly wasn't excited, though; if anything, she seemed concerned. As I watched her gallantly but ultimately futilely attempt to deep-throat my entirety; I guessed that she'd counted on her deep-throating ability to impress me, only I was just too big to swallow. Aside from the fact that she fell short of her goal, though, her blowjob was first-rate. Her mouth, lips, and tongue worked together in fine synchronicity to provide my penis with exquisite sensations. This too concerned me a little, though, because clearly this girl had spent a lot of time sucking dick. Nevertheless, I put my hands in her curly hair and encouraged her as she sucked me. Up and down she bobbed like clockwork. Her blowjob was too perfect in some ways--like the rest of her, it came across as being practiced, an act. Of course, maybe that made her a perfect mistress--she would act like she was hot for you on demand. I had wanted to get to know at least a little about her, but maybe that, too, was violating some unwritten rule of mistress-sponsor relations. I decided I would try to get a more natural response from her. As her head bobbed up and down pleasuring my knob, I reached for her breasts and gently pinched her nipples between my thumb and forefinger. As always, this allowed a tiny, pleasurable electric current to flow from my negatively charged thumbs to my positive charged fingers. She noticed--she looked up, opened her eyes for a minute, and raised her eyebrows--but then she closed them again and kept sucking. I could tell her nipples were straining with delight, but she was so busy trying to make a positive impression on me that even the intense sensation couldn't increase her arousal as it had with every other human I'd been with. I sighed; she was gonna get me off, but she wasn't going to be engaged in the process herself. "I'd like you to sit on my lap," I whispered. Her blowjob may have been all technique and no feeling, but her technique was first rate and I was close to blowing my wad. I wasn't gonna knock her up by wasting it in her mouth. She stood, expressionless. I think she was hoping that she would sell me on herself with just her tits and a great blowjob, but she wasn't about to say no to anything else I wanted. She made a big show of lifting her short skirt, pulling aside her thong, and showing me her shaved snatch. Putting one leg up on the sofa next to me, she pulled her labia apart, rubbing her clitoris to quickly get herself wet. She was watching me looking at her sex, and I have admit I kind of liked the way she showed me her stuff. Steadying herself with one hand on the back of the couch, she swung her other stiletto heel over to my other side. Straddling me, she slowly crouched lower, guiding my penis into her with her left hand. I felt myself perforating her folds lightly before meeting resistance. She lifted herself and crouched again, and I slipped a bit further into her depths. She repeated this action several times, and I felt her tissues moisten and grow soft. All at once, I went from just barely being inside to her being able to grind her hips all the way down to mine. She then closed her eyes and began to fuck my dick with her pussy at a nice, steady rhythm. Her breasts bobbed up and down violently as she went; more than once she grasped them with her left arm to get them to settle down when they started to get uncomfortable. The arrangement was somewhat visually private, but sound was another matter. From the other side of the divider behind me, we started hearing the telltale sounds of fucking. They got louder and louder even as Shelly picked up the pace with me. Then the voice practically shouted "Oh yes! Fuck my ass!" Shelly's eyes snapped open with a look of great concern. I could almost hear her thinking "Oh god, please don't get any ideas..." Don't worry, I thought, I plan on dumping my load right where I am. But it made me think--this guy was test-driving his potential mistress by fucking her ass. If he was totally into that, I guess it made sense to find out right off the bat if she would go for it, but it also made me think that in their anxiety to earn a meal ticket, these girls would do pretty much anything that we wanted. A savvy man could easily take advantage of that; I wondered how many of the others in attendance were like me and had no intention of really taking on a mistress tonight. I smiled knowingly at Shelly and leaned forward to take her nipple in my mouth. She relaxed when she realized I wouldn't be trying to stuff my monster dick up her tiny asshole. But then she did something really amazing. Her pussy kept pumping up and down on my dick, but somehow she steadied her torso at the same time, so that there was little movement in her breasts and I was able to keep sucking the nipple even as her hips continued to pump. Not only that, but she picked up the pace, accurately sensing that my orgasm might be imminent. The combination of nipple in mouth and pussy on dick was exquisite; in a matter of minutes, I grasped her hips and held her down on my lap while I ejaculated at length into her vagina. "Oh my god, that was awesome," she lied, gently grinding as I still lay inside her. I flashed my eyebrows at her now, and lay my thumbs alongside her clit while rubbing it with my index finger. Every human I'd been with had experienced major orgasm when the current was running directly through her clitoris, usually within 60 seconds. Her guard was down anyway, since she figured she'd done her part. "Oh my," she said with sudden surprise at the sensation. She ground her hips into me for real now, her pussy itchy from the intense stimulation of the clit. "Oh my god," she murmured, eyes wide, astounded by the intense pleasure. I don't know if it was under a minute, but soon even she came, as my deflating penis felt her shudder. For once, she didn't know what to do--she was supposed to be making me cum (and had) but hadn't even considered that she might too. Was that OK? Now what she supposed to do? I broke the tension by kissing her. Unfortunately, that, too, felt practiced and insincere. ------------- Saturday morning I cancelled the phone whose number I had given Shelly at the end of the party the night before and got a new one. No, I'm not above being a low-down dirty snake as part of my mission to save the world, one pussy at a time. Frankly, I'm not sure she would have called me anyway. A girl that can suck dick like that can probably find someone to sponsor her just hanging around the banking district at lunch. I headed towards an office I had rented in Midtown. It had once been part of an investment bank that had spectacularly imploded; I was able to rent a single office on a long-term lease for far below market price. Beginning at noon, I would be holding interviews for an Executive Director for the foundation I was setting up. Four months ago, I had hired a private investigative firm to follow up with my multitude of partners to see which ones became pregnant, when they gave birth, and any other information they could find about the results of our union. They told me then that the first of my half-human children was due to be born in less than five months--in other words, any day now. I wasn't going to be around to father those children, since I was busy fathering new ones, but I was setting up a foundation to provide providing financial support to the mothers of my children. I would finance it by withdrawing money from one of my sizeable Swiss bank accounts, but I needed a public face to represent the organization sending the monthly checks, keeping my role in the dark--hence the need for a director. I decided to do interviews on a Saturday, so that interested parties might apply without having to take time off their current jobs to do it. "Hello, and thank you all for coming. My name is William Starr" I began, introducing myself to the room of prospective applicants using my newest pseudonym. "In a short while, I will begin interviewing to fill the position of Director of the Starr Child foundation. But before I do, I want to explain the nature of the Foundation and its work, for it is unusual and may be unsettling to some. After I have finished, there will be 20-minute break before I begin interviewing. If, once I've explained our work and the specific role that the Director will play, you feel uncomfortable and no longer with so apply, please do us both a favor, grab some free coffee and snacks and excuse yourself at the break. This job will not be for everyone, which is why I'm taking the time to explain the nature of your employer first." I paused as the dozen or so attendees became increasingly anxious. "The Starr-Child Foundation is interested in saving the human race," I continued. Yeah, I know it's kind of a lame name, I just thought it might make for some cute irony when and if the true nature of my plot ever came to light. "I represent a secret organization of scientists and scholars united by the belief that the human race is evolving backward...de-volving, you might say. In particular, we are losing our greatness. With each generation, fewer and fewer truly great men are born, men who lead and change and better their world for centuries. For the past five years, scientists associated with the Foundation have secretly analyzed hundreds of genetic samples of the greatest minds of our generation. From this research, we have located a number of genetic sequences that seem to be related with greatness." "This is a wonderful thing...we may be able to tell, at an early age, children that carry the genes of greatness. By fostering these children, we hope to increase the incidence of greatness in the gene pool for future generations. Ah, but this is where things become sticky when you're talking about human beings. If this were cows we were talking about, we could selectively breed carriers of greatness and in short order produce a race of greatness. But we cannot selectively breed humans. Indeed, the very thought would be seen by many as eugenics, including perhaps some of yourselves... which is why I will be giving you the opportunity to withdraw your interest in this position, no questions asked." Superf***er Vol. 04 "So, you may ask, if we're not talking about selective breeding, how do we intend to encourage greatness? Well, in our research we also found false positives... individuals whose genetics pointed towards unfulfilled greatness. We've learned that persons with unfulfilled greatness tended to be unhappy in low-level jobs, more intelligent than their coworkers but not better educated, lacked motivation, and gravitated towards substance abuse, especially of the hallucinogenic variety. And most of them came from disadvantaged backgrounds. We were reminded that genetics may be important, but it is not the only thing; environment plays an important role as well. Without the proper intellectual nourishment, greatness cannot blossom. These individuals go personally unfulfilled, drift towards lower classes, breed with other lower-class individuals, and thus the genes of greatness pass out of the gene pool, an opportunity lost forever." I scanned the crowd. A lot of business-y, accountant types, like I'd imagined. Seven men, five women, two of whom appeared well over 40. I scoped out the three potentially attractive females as I continued to speak. "It was to address this issue that the Starr Child Foundation was formed. We believe that economic issues play a major role in the failure of greatness to develop in those predisposed. We cannot change human mating patterns—but we can maximize the likelihood that greatness develops in those that carry its genes by ensuring that they are raised with some basic standard of living. And because we believe individuals with greatness tend to reproduce with others that also carry the seeds of greatness, we hope to increase the incidence of these genes in the pool. And so the mission of the Starr Child Foundation is simple: to provide free economic assistance to children with the potential for greatness but whose social condition forms a barrier to their success." The first one was acceptable; blonde, early thirties, prototypical MILF actually. The second was younger, but a tad heavy for my taste--females are trim and muscular on my planet, so I can't quite get excited about a girl that's overweight. "Thus, in the end the Starr Child Foundation is a philanthropic organization—but one that must remain in utmost secrecy. We have hundreds of doctors and scientists across the country looking for the genes of greatness, passing those children's names on to us—violating patient privacy laws in the process, all for the greater good of humankind. The knowledge we possess is powerful; it must not become known that we have identified genes of greatness until the time is right, lest it fall into the wrong hands. We wish the better world of the future to be democratic; do not doubt for a moment that China, for instance, can and would undertake a massive program of selective breeding if they knew it was possible. And our work is sensitive and controversial; not only would we risk being labeled as eugenicists if the true nature of our work became known, but we fear that the very knowledge that a child has the right genes may affect his or her upbringing and destroy the very delicate flower of greatness we wish to foster." The third I could see mostly just red hair, and so she intrigued me. But I couldn't see her face; it struck me as odd, I would have thought that it wouldn't have been that difficult to move around the person in front of her and make eye contact. "The position of Director of the Starr Child Foundation is equal parts accounting and espionage. As Director, you will receive lists of individual children that are to be served by the Foundation. Every month, the necessary amount will be transferred into the Foundation's account." I started walking into the midst of the assembled applicants; I was going to get a look at that redhead, one way or another. But I kept shifting my gaze, not wanting to make it obvious that I was attending more to some of them than others. "It will be your responsibility to ensure that all payments are made, as well as the maintenance of the office and of course your own salary. The Foundation will have no assets of its own. You will work entirely on your own—you will have no staff, nor will you have a supervisor. Your only contact with me once the Foundation is operational will be via email. You will be the only public point of contact for the Foundation and its business." I took a quick step sideways, looking right in the direction of the redhead. Oh my god, no wonder she was trying to hide--it was Amy! We made eye contact, and she gulped; she'd been hoping I didn't see her, but of course I had. I imagined this must be a lot more awkward for her than it was for me. "This position will pay a reasonable salary while, especially at first, probably requiring fewer than ten hours a week to perform. It would be a perfect job for someone who wants a lot of free time, perhaps for a second career or to spend time with family. But...we are also looking for someone to stay with this position for twenty years or more. We are first and foremost scientists; the Foundation will track the emergence of greatness in those we serve compared against a control group of children we will not serve. This is not fair, but it is necessary for science—yet another reason why our identities and our methods must be completely secret." "And so...if after hearing what we're trying to accomplish, you are still interested in the job...I will begin interviewing in thirty minutes. If you don't, thank you for coming." I turned and headed into the private office. I thought my story went well—a complete fabrication, of course. I heard shuffling about outside; I tried to guess how many would be there when I came back...and whether Amy would be among them. There were four--and she was not. There were two young men, one older one, and one of the over-40 women. Oh well, I wasn't here to pick my next sex partner; I drew randomly from a hat who went first. The first guy immediately turned my off by his excessive, and therefore not trustworthy, interest in the supposed cause of my cover story. The second was very bland, but probably also very reliable. The third was the woman, and while she was kind of fun as a person there was something about her that made me think this wasn't a good job for her. As she was leaving, though, she said "Oh...I'm supposed to pass on a message. There was a girl here earlier...she said she was called away for a family emergency, but that she would come back later if she could. If you didn't want to interview her because she left, she would understand." "Oh?" I asked with a little too much interest. "I wonder which one. What did she look like." "Well, she had flaming red hair," she began. Yes! I thought. It was Amy. "Ah...she was sitting in the back, I didn't get a good look at her. Well, if she comes back, I'll hear her out. thanks for passing on the message." Sure enough, when I came to call in the last candidate, Amy was back. "Ah...we have one more brave soul, eh? I'll get to you next. And now..." I gestured the last male interviewee in, but he turned me off immediately by complaining that Amy shouldn't be allowed to interview because she had left. The whiner was trying to thin the field of competitors, but fuck him for trying to tell me how to run my business. He could have saved himself the trouble of saying anything else, because he was already done. He glared at her as he left. Jerk. "Miss Amy," I smiled, "I'm glad you chose to come back." She got up nervously, straightening the short skirt of her black interview suit. She wore a white blouse under it that showed a lot less cleavage than her dress the night before. "I...I don't think I'm the right person for this job, Mr. Starr, but I...I just wanted to explain myself," she said as I ushered her into the interview office. "Explain yourself...how?" "You must be wondering why I'd be a gathering of prospective mistresses one day, and then interviewing for Foundation Director the next." "It had crossed my mind, yes." She settled into a chair while I went behind the desk. "Well...it's exactly like you said in your speech...this job would be perfect for someone that needs a lot of free time, and that's ME. See, all I've ever wanted to be was a writer. Even since I was a kid, I worked hard in school, got good grade, and got accepted to the college with the best writing program in the country. I don't come from a wealthy family, but my entrance scores were so good I got almost a full ride. What I hadn't counted on was how expensive it would be to live in The City. I ended up having to take out student loans to be able to pay for food and rent. When my roommate got attacked one night, I took out more loans so we could move somewhere safer." "And?" I interjected. "I graduated at the top of my class...with $100,000 in student loans to pay back, so I had to get a job. So now I'm working 60 hours a week to pay my bills...and not writing a thing because of it. I've got manuscripts I'm working on, but by the time I get back into the frame of mind I was in when I put it down, it's time to stop again because I have to go to work in the morning..." "So you were looking for something where you could work fewer hours," I concluded. "Yes," she said excitedly, "this job sounded perfect. I swear, this was my first choice. That thing last night..." "Why would this be your first choice?" I interrupted, "As a mistress, you wouldn't have to 'work' at all." "No, but you'd never know when you'd be called upon to do something...doesn't matter, I don't know what I was thinking. I could never be a mistress anyway." "No? Then why did you go to the party? Wasn't that the whole idea?" I persisted. "I dunno...I was afraid I wouldn't be qualified enough to get this job, and I was probably right. One of the guys I work with always joked that I should be a mistress, because I'm pretty enough and I'd make a lot more money for a lot less work. I thought he was just kidding, but when he overheard the boss talking about this party where prospective hosts could meet prospective mistresses, he told me about it. I thought I could at least call the company that put them on. They were so low-key about it all on the phone...I guess I hadn't thought about what I was really getting into until the party last night." "What do you mean?" I asked. "I was just naive--in retrospect, its expensive to keep a mistress, of course a girl would have to demonstrate that she would be worthwhile to her sponsor before he would invest in her. Its funny, I'm at an event for prospective mistresses and I hadn't even given a thought to the sex part. I figured hey, I've done a few one-nighters, how different could it be?" "So what happened?" "When we got matched up and all the girls started dancing...I freaked out. I started trying to dance sexy-like, but with my clothes on. The guy started touching me all over, and it just felt... wrong. Yeah, I'd had one-night stands, but that was because I'd had the hots for some guy. Maybe that was because I was drunk at the time, but nonetheless, I slept with him because I wanted to. I didn't have the hots for this guy... in fact, he turned my stomach. The only reason I was there was because I was trying to sell myself like a commodity. I was being a whore, plain and simple. I couldn't do it." "So what did you do?" I asked. Her story seemed so honest, so heartfelt. I liked her even more than I had last night. "I apologized for wasting the guy's time and ran out of there," she sighed, "hoping that much harder that today would work out. My heart sank when I saw you come out. My plan B, which I hadn't even thought through, wiped out my plan A. Somehow, it feels like I got what I I deserved." "Amy," I announced, "I think you made a good decision." "What do you mean?" "You wanted more time to write. You could have had lots of time to write as a mistress--but you weren't willing to throw away your self-respect to get it. You'd give up on writing altogether before you'd whore yourself for a meal ticket." "You make it sound like I was noble, when really I was just dumb." "Naive maybe, but not dumb. You saw right away that it wasn't what you thought it was going to be, and you were strong enough to leave when it would have been easier to play along. Those ARE noble qualities." She smiled appreciatively. "Thanks, you make me feel a little bit better about last night's fiasco. But there's now a bunch of high-powered people in New York that hate me, and I'm obviously not qualified for this job either. Thanks for giving me the time to explain..." "Can you use a spreadsheet?" "What? Yes, of course, I do it every day," she answered, perplexed. "I wasn't sure what kinds of tools you knew how to use, having been an English major. You must know word processing, of course. Can you do merges?" "Of course," she nodded. "Accounting? Databases?" "Still new at it, but I've been learning at my job," she confessed. "Its really not a hard job as far as technical skills," I explained. "You ARE qualified. No, the hard part is finding the right person. Someone who can handle inquiries, be organized, keep track of things. Someone who is self-motivated and who can work in an environment of total secrecy. And someone who is likely to be able to do the job for a long period of time." "Oh, Mr. Starr, I'd want to do this job FOREVER. It would be PERFECT. I could pay my bills with this job, and I wouldn't have to be under pressure to publish to pay my rent. I could take my time and make sure my work was READY before I sent it to a publisher. I'm VERY organized. I can handle inquiries...my company has been sending me to a lot of trade shows because I'm good at engaging clients..." "I agree," I said impulsively, "I think you would be very good for this job. When can you start?" "Oh, Mr. Starr," she squeaked with great excitement, "thank you, thank you so much. I have to give two weeks notice, but I can work nights right away if things need to get done..." "That won't be necessary," I replied calmly, "but I do have to attend to business out-of-town, and I'd like to get going as soon as possible. I can show you all you need to know in just a couple of hours, do you have somewhere you need to be tonight?" "No sir," she replied excitedly, "if I had a boyfriend, I would have never been at that stupid party last night!" I laughed, sensing that her comment was completely genuine. "Great, maybe I can even catch a plane out tonight. But...I've been interviewing all day, I haven't even had lunch, and I see the stampeding mob wiped out the snacks. Are you hungry? I could order us some Chinese, we can eat while I'm walking you through it." "Actually, that would be great, sir," she replied, "I'm starving." "All right, but rule number one: my name is Bill. Just Bill. Not Mr. Starr, definitely not Sir. You are an employee now, so I expect that we will relate to each other on a first-name basis. OK?" "Yes S..., I mean, sure, Bill," she smiled. I nodded. "Perfect." I picked up the phone, ordered, and began giving her a list of things to take care of. "First, you'll need to fill out hiring and W2 papers on yourself. Do them electronically and email them to me to sign. Second, you'll need to send rejection letters to the other candidates..." When the food came, we broke for dinner. We talked about her mostly, thankfully; she was easy to engage in talking about her writing, and it sounded like it might be pretty interesting. But we also talked a little about her family, politics, and life in the city. She was very engaging--beautiful women, I've decided, tend to be unapproachable (self-protection from the overwhelming interest men have in them), stuck up (because men always tell them how great they are) or both; Amy was neither. She was so young, but yet she was interesting; she had a fine eye for human foibles, which I thought boded well for her future as a writer. I just somehow...connected with her, and it wasn't because deep down I couldn't deny the fact that part of me still lusted for her. After dinner I switched places with her; this was going to be her desk and her computer, I wanted her to "drive" and get the feel of it. I showed her where things were, then I started showing her some of the software she would need to use. She wasn't adept at all of them, but she was a quick study. She sat in the chair of her new office, I stood behind her, reaching over and using the mouse to show her how to do things. We worked like that for maybe a couple more hours, and things went great. But then I showed her something she'd never done before, and when I turned around to see if she was following me...uh oh, I shouldn't have done that. Standing over her, I was inadvertently looking straight down her blouse. I could see the trail of freckles leading all the way to the edge of her bra, and then? Just as I had the night before, all I could think of was imagining where that trail of freckles ended. I turned my attention back to the screen, but I was now flustered. I was suddenly acutely aware that our hands were touching as we both worked together with the mouse; I withdrew mine hastily. She turned to see what was the matter—and found herself eye to eye with a bulge that ran halfway down my thigh. She pulled back a bit at the surprise of meeting the monster eye to eye, even if it was through a pair of slacks. "Is something wrong?" she asked with concern. "No, absolutely not..." I protested. She glanced at my bulge again, then at me with confusion. "I'm sorry...no, there's nothing wrong, if anything it's too right. I'm sorry about my, um, condition, it's just..." I sighed; the only way to explain my erratic behavior was to tell the truth. "I'm sorry, I'm not being very professional. I guess it's only fair for you to know that you were the first choice on my card last night." She was stunned. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. "And maybe I shouldn't have told you that, because now you're probably wondering if that isn't the real reason I hired you. It's not, or at least I don't think it is. I hired you for two reasons: one, you had the best reason for wanting to work part-time, and thus I project you as the most likely to stay in this job for a long time. And second, by telling me the truth about what happened last night, I know that you're trustworthy, whereas with the others I don't know if they're feeding me a line or what. I mean, the fact that I find you attractive... as I told you, I won't be around anyway, so that really doesn't enter into the equation, ya know?" I flushed, since I sounded to myself like a stammering, smitten fool. "Um... well, I think I've done enough damage already, so I'm going to take my leave. Here are the keys to the office... you've got my email... I think you know now what you need to know. If there's anything else you need to learn and I can't show you via email, by all means sign up for a class at foundation expense." I put out my hand to shake hers; she shook it gingerly, flabbergasted by the sudden turn of events. "So welcome aboard, I am confident that the foundation's business operations are in good hands, Madam Director. You know how to reach me if you have any questions." I turned and practically fled out the door. Behind me I heard Amy call out "Wait, Mr. Starr..." I didn't even pause to remind her to call me Bill. ------------------- I sat on the bed in my hotel room. The TV was on, but I wasn't paying it any attention. I'd come back from the office, thrown off my monkey suit and jumped into a cold shower, trying to break my relentless ruminating about the trail of freckles leading down Amy's chest. Wearing just a bathrobe, I sat and stared, lost in thoughts. I did believe what I had told her about why I had hired her, and yet I'd be lying if I pretended I didn't lust for her desperately, and I would be foolish to think that didn't enter into my thought process at some level. My original plan had been to go out to the clubs to find another earth girl to mate with, then head out of town tomorrow—but I really wasn't in the mood to put forth all that effort. I hadn't taken a day off since I began on my mission—today seemed as good a day as any. Superf***er Vol. 04 I logged onto my computer. First I made reservations on a flight to Zurich--I had to work out the other end of the cash flow now that the foundation was up and running. I was hoping I could get out tonight, but it was too late by the time I looked. I found a seat on the Sunday 6pm red eye. Then I checked on the physics forum I'd joined, responding to the latest replies to my post "What if antimatter could agglomerate into heavenly bodies?" Your science is way behind on understanding antimatter, but fortunately I had 20 years to delicately sow the seeds of understanding, shaping the knowledge of the physics community so that when the comet came it would be recognized for the threat it was. That passed a little time, but I kept thinking about Amy. I shut the laptop down and stared off into space, lost in thought. The knock at the door caught me by such surprise I thought at first it couldn't be my door. But the second knock was so loud it had to be mine. Who would be knocking on my door? It's not like I had any FRIENDS on this planet. "Hello?" I called out as I tightened my robe and headed to the peephole. "Bill?" said a voice I could barely hear, "it's me, Amy. Can I come in?" I went to the peephole and confirmed it was Amy—who was holding up the keys I had given her. How the hell did she find me? I opened up the door, so surprised at her visit that I repeated her name in disbelief. "Amy?" She jingled the keys in her hand before handing them to me. "I tried all the locks in the office—these didn't seem to belong anywhere. I knew you'd be leaving town, and I wanted to try to catch you before you left. I thought these might be important. You're not an easy man to find, you know." Damn straight. And yet she had—good thing too, because in my discombobulation I had left the keys to some of my safety deposit boxes in Switzerland on the ring. "How DID you find me," I asked in near-panic—if she could find me, then so could a good private eye... "I called all the best hotels in town asking to leave you a message, but they all said they had no guest by that name. Fortunately, there was a reservation confirmation in the inbox on the computer you left me, with the name you were registered under. When I called back to leave a message, the voicemail told me your room number." I couldn't help but smile—how delightfully clever. She nodded her head slightly, which reminded me that she had asked to come in. "Oh...sorry. Yes, of course, please come in." I stepped aside and let her walk past me. "Well, if I wasn't sure before, I am now—I definitely made the right choice. That was a brilliant piece of detective work." "Thanks," she smiled, "maybe it's not high art, but I've been putting together ideas for a detective mystery, too." "I know I'll buy it," I replied. Then she turned serious and now she was looking for words. "That's...not the only reason I wanted to find you." "Hmm?" "I..." She paused, not sure how to express what she wanted to say. "You were the first choice on my card last night, too." Now I was the one stunned. "I was?" I eventually managed to say. If we were both our first choices, how had we not been paired? "I mean, come on," Amy continued with exasperation, "all the other guys asked me all these questions about sex—do you shave your crotch, have you ever had sex in public, have you ever been tied up. This one guy--every single question had something to do with anal sex." I chuckled as I remembered the noises that had come from behind the partition. "But kicker was this one guy that asked me if I could swallow a banana whole. I mean, I know what he was getting at, but how the hell am I supposed to know? Why would I ever want to try? Man..." she shuddered slightly "they creeped me out! You were the only one that was different. You were the only one that seemed like you were actually interested to know something about who I was. You were the only one that seemed to appreciate that I'm a living person and not just an expensive fuck toy." She was right—I DID want to know more about her than what her comfort requirements were. It made sense in a way--the two of us that didn't really belong there last night had the most in common with each other. "But if you were my first choice too...why weren't we paired?" Suddenly I wondered if maybe she was making this up, covering her ass somehow. Maybe my read had been completely wrong about her. "There was this one guy, Mario, who somehow had connections with the people running the show. The hosts kept coming in and whispering things to him, and he whispered things back. Maybe it was his company, I don't know. He was the creepiest of them all—I had him LAST on my card, but was paired with him anyway. When the lights came on and I saw it was him, I figured none of the rest of you had even put me on your cards, which didn't surprise me since I didn't think I'd interviewed well. I was evasive, and I think they wanted answers that were as specific, detailed and erotic as possible." "So when I'm looking at Mario, I felt like I was the last choice among the girls that were left, that if I was going to this it would be my one and only chance. When the music started and the others started to dance, my fear almost led me to go through with it—but he was so slimy as he sat there leering at me, I just couldn't. It felt like I was saying goodbye to the thought of ever being a writer, but it was better than prostituting myself to that slimeball." There was a silence. "So that's why I was so stunned when you said you had me first on your card, too," she added in a lighter tone. "It took a second to compute, but there is really only one explanation..." "He had an in and got whomever he wanted, and the rest of us got paired up with whoever was left," I finished the thought for her. I should have known better than to doubt her. "Exactly," she nodded. "I'll bet it's his company, and he goes to every one of these events and cons some ambitious girl into giving him some free sex." "I don't know that he's the only one," I added. "I don't, either—and none of the other girls backstage even gave a thought to the fact that maybe were all just being played here. And that was before I realized that I would be expected to have sex with anyone that picked me, right then and there. It never occurred to me that they might organize group sex in a public ballroom." I just nodded in agreement. All my instincts had been right—she WAS different from the others. "So who did you end up getting paired with?" she said finally. "I got matched with Shelly..." I began. "Shelly...curly brown hair, halter top, too tan, great body?" She had a great memory. "That's the one--but I had her fifth on my list, and I don't think I was very high on her, either." "Did you two hit it off?" I shook my head. "Not really...I mean, I won't lie to you, when she put her hands in my pants I didn't stop her. But she was so...calculating. You know how I said I hired you because I could sense your honesty? She was just the opposite--I didn't trust anything she said." "So do you plan on..." she fumbled for an appropriate word. "No...I came away from last night feeling a lot like you did. I've decided I'm not cut out to do the mistress thing. I mean, it might be nice to have a steady source of sex, but I need it to be more personal and not so...businesslike." "You don't have a wife? Or girlfriend?" she asked with interest. "No," I shook my head, "I travel too much--never in one place long enough to really meet someone. Oh sure, I admit it, I live the life of the playboy sometimes, but I'm always leaving town before anything can come of it." Next thing I knew, she was standing right next to me and had her arms clasped around my waist. I quickly followed suit. "Do you believe in destiny?" No, or I wouldn't be trying to prevent this collision with the comet. But I didn't say that; "what do you mean?" is what I said. My heart was racing with her so close--I don't know what it was about this girl that affected me so. It couldn't just be the red hair. "I mean, what are the odds," she explained, locking eyes with me. "My boyfriend of three years dumps me two weeks ago, so I'm unattached. We meet at a seedy mixer that neither one of us had any business being at. We pick each other, only to be separated by insider dealings. Then the next day, the mystery job interview I'd been crossing my fingers about...turns out to be with you?" "Pretty long odds," I agreed. "Doesn't it make you think that maybe it wasn't by chance? Like maybe we were supposed to meet for some cosmic reason?" "What reason might that be?" I asked. She didn't answer--instead, she craned her neck up towards me and kissed me. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea," I stammered, "now that you're employee of the foundation." "No I'm not," she answered slyly, "you haven't signed the hiring papers yet, because I haven't filled them out yet." She was watching me with a dreamy look. "And I'm still mad about last night. I was deprived of my chance to dance for you!" "Is that something you want to do?" I questioned. She didn't answer; she shot me an eyebrow, got a devilish look on her face, and gently pushed me towards the overstuff chair in the corner. I sat down an eagerly awaited what kind of show I might get. Amy strutted over towards me. She put her hands on the arms of the chair, leaning over me. She flipped her head so her hair hung down, then she brushed my chest with it. Flipping her head back upright, she placed one foot on the arm of the chair. She had on black heels with a strap at the ankle, the kind of shoes a dancer might wear. She leaned over onto that leg, undoing the strap. Then she stood back up, lifted the leg, took off the shoe, and placed it on my lap. Something in the way she looked at me while she did told me she wanted me to keep it there. OK. She did the same on the other side. Then, with a slow sensual spin, she moved over to the bed about five feet away and sat down. She pulled her tight skirt even tighter, then slowly, teasingly inched it higher. I kept watching, marveling at her slender thighs, waiting to see her underwear. But just before it got that high, Amy suddenly stood up, slipped her hands up under her skirt, and pulled her panty hose down below her knees. Sitting again, she put her legs together almost as if she were riding sidesaddle. She lifted her feet to the bed and pulled off her stockings from the toes, one foot and then the other. Tossing them behind her, she got up again and strutted over to me. Taking the one shoe off my lap, she kicked her leg up before placing it on the arm of the chair--and putting the shoe back on. Standing back up, she leaned over me and whispered "one of the guys last night made sure that I understood that it was very, very important that I always wear high heels--especially in bed. I didn't realize that was such a thing for guys--guess you learn something new every day." Then she put the other one back on. I like heels, but I don't have any particular fetish about them. They really made Amy's calves look that much more shapely, though, so I kind of liked the fact that she'd put them back on. Standing in front of me, she slipped off her blazer and tossed that aside, too. Then she sat lightly on my lap, moving her tushy to a music only she could hear. She was the total opposite of Shelly; Amy's dancing would certainly never be mistaken for a stripper, but Shelly was all technique while Amy's heart was in it, and so Amy's was having more of an effect. Amy suddenly stopped. "I'm not sure what to do next," she admitted innocently. "How about a different kind of dancing?" I suggested. She stood, and we put our arms around each other again. Then we started swaying gently from side to side. Almost immediately we were kissing. It felt so good, and we stayed that way for a long time. Finally Amy lay her head down on my shoulder, still swaying, arms around my neck. It felt good just to be so close to her. "So what got you all excited before, back at the office?" she quizzed suddenly. I stopped dancing, and took a half-step back. "There's this line of freckles," I said softly, touching the base of her neck. "It looks like this little trail that goes here...and here...and here..." I continued, softly tracing a path on the flat of her chest. "And the trail keeps going right up to here," I finished, touching the V of her blouse's collar, "I keep trying to imagine where the trail leads." "You're really silly," she smiled affectionately. She slipped her fingers up and undid the top button. "So where does it go now?" Another inch of cleavage showed, and I could see the path I imagined on her skin continue south. I followed traced my finger down to the crest of her cleavage, stopped by a button yet again. "Here." She undid another. "And now?" She watched with amusement as I traced my path along her skin. The path headed into the valley between her breasts--but I was soon stopped again, this time by her bra. "Foiled again," I sighed. She loosened another button, and then like a magician's sleight of hand undid her bra, which clasped in the front. "And now?" The path I imagined went downwards a little further and then curved to the side and broadened. Very slowly and deliberately, I traced down, then over, pushing lightly up and over against the cup. It obediently yielded the right of way to my finger. I traced up the delicate curve of her breast, finding that the freckles suddenly thinned as the breast rose up. I traced softly along the soft skin, pale white like fine china, until I reached her nipple. Her nipple was the stuff of poetry. I'm no poet, for which I'm sure you're thankful, but it was just the perfect nipple. It was pale pink, the lightest color I'd ever seen, reflecting her pale complexion. And somehow the proportion of nipple to areole was exactly what it should be. Her breast wasn't especially big, but it somehow just had the right shape. It felt like if you didn't know what a breast was and looked it up, you'd find a picture of Amy's tit in the dictionary. "It looks like it ends...here." "My, isn't that fortunate?" she teased. Indeed it was. I leaned forward and kissed the breast, then gently suckled the pale nipple. I felt Amy sigh lightly, and she gently played with the hair on the back of my head in encouragement. With my other hand, I just as slowly pushed the other half of her bra to the side. I ran my fingers along the soft, smooth skin of her breast, circling my way around until I reached the nipple. It was already erect when I got there. I very gently kneaded it between the tip of my thumb and forefinger, which of course sent pleasurable currents through the sensitive flesh. "Ohh," she sighed softly as she responded to a pleasure the likes of which she had never felt before. I was so enraptured by her delicate breasts that I wasn't attending to my own erection. I forgot that I was just wearing a bathrobe. As my dick got hard, it neatly poked through the folds of my robe. I didn't realize I'd been poking her with my rod until I felt her gently touch it with her warm hand. "Oh...I'm sorry," I said, backing away slightly, "I didn't mean to poke you..." "My god!," Amy interrupted, "is that really all you?" She pulled the bottom of my robe apart like a curtain so she could see my entirety. "Holy...!" she proclaimed, looking up at me with eyes flashing with intrigue, "you're practically as big as my forearm!" I just shrugged with a wry smile. Bending one knee, she quickly untied my belt so my robe hung open. Then she bent the other, kneeling before me, stroking and eying the fearfully large monster. She wrapped her hand around me near the top and stoked me with short strokes. At the same time she kissed my underside down to my balls, which she paused to kiss and lick. Then she kissed her way back up again. When she got to where her hand was, she moved both hands to form a base for me, keeping it stable while pointing it right at her face. Then she kissed all the way to the tip, where she stuck out her tongue and licked circles around me. Then she opened wide and took the tip into her mouth. "Mmmm," I sighed softly as I felt the wet, warm softness of the inside of her mouth. She focused on the tip, taking only a couple of inches in, but working very actively on them while I was in her mouth. She took me in a little deeper each time, until her lips met her cupped hands holding me in place. She sucked with concentration, not just on what she was doing but also on how it felt to hold me in her mouth. It was awesome. As I am wont to do, I reached down and played with her nipples while she sucked my dick. I could feel them straining in response to my microcurrents. She dropped her hands for a moment to undo the last button of her blouse and toss if behind her, followed immediately by her bra, doing both without affecting the rhythm of the blowjob. Then she grasped me again, sucking. I looked down with admiration at the fine porcelain skin, artfully dotted with freckles, bare to the waist. I touched her shoulders; they were slight of frame, and yet the muscles were toned from hours of exercise. As she bobbed her shoulders to and fro, I could see with clear definition the outline of each abdominal muscle appear and then disappear in relation to her movements. I wanted to touch them, but my arms couldn't reach. I settled for pleasuring her nipples again instead. She sucked me for a long time. I don't know if she was persistently trying to suck me off, or just enjoying what she was doing. Finally, she stood up, put her arms around my neck and kissed me again. I kissed her back, but I fumbled to find the zipper of her skirt. I was feeling around the back; she lowered her hands and guided them to the side, where it actually was. Still kissing, we fumbled together to get her skirt off as fast as possible. We must have looked like two teenagers in the back seat of a car. When it fell, her hands moved to my shoulders, where she helped me drop my robe. Then she took my face in her hands and, still kissing, pulled me back towards the overstuffed chair. We got there sooner than she expected; she tripped and fell backwards into it. Quick as a flash, I was on my knees, whipping off her panties and burying my face in her snatch. She had a patch of dark red pubic hair that was neatly trimmed as a country club lawn. I mashed my nose into the red lawn and licked the tender warmth underneath. I felt the tiny nubbin of her clitoris, and beneath it hot, smooth flesh that tasted increasingly like female excitement. Amy threw her legs over the sides of the chair, running both hands through my hair as I ate her out. The longer I licked, the more her hips rocked against my tongue. I could hear her breath start to get shallow in excitement. I realized I might be able to bring her off without even having to use my charged fingers, and decided to try. She was breathing heavy, rocking hips--and seemingly stuck, frustratingly stalled just short of climax and unable to break through. My chin was now dripping from her secretions, but she couldn't quite cum. I knew I could get her off in a second with my fingers, but I was taking it as a personal challenge to see if I didn't have to. Ah...stupid me. Why didn't I think of it sooner? I reached my hands up and tweaked her nipples between my thumbs and index fingers. That provided just the extra nudge she needed. She wailed "Oh...oh" almost like she was crying, and I felt shudders shaking her entire body. I looked up, happy, face still between her thighs. She dropped her legs, bent over, grabbed my face and kissed me, not phased at all by the fact I was covered in her pungent juices. I noticed that her skin from her neck to her breasts was glowing softly pink. I felt her reach for my dick and stroke it, but I hadn't softened in the least in the time I was lovingly tasting her. She leaned back in the chair again, stroking, and lined up my dick with the opening of her vagina. She pushed the head in slightly, parting the lips. I provided the rest of the thrust, filling her to the top. She lifted her feet straight up, resting them on my shoulders. I put my hands on her hips and thrusted, feeling her soft tissues gripping me as I slid in and out. She steadied herself by holding on to my arms. I penetrated her slowly and with feeling. I kissed the shapely calf and ankle by my shoulder. She gave a little smile and blinked affectionately. I watched--she was gorgeous beyond description as she lay there, satisfied and pleasured by my actions, happily offering the most private part of herself to me. Superf***er Vol. 04 I was so enamored of her beauty--her face, her tranquility, the beauty of her hair, her lovely breasts flushed in excitement--that she became self-conscious of me looking at her. She pretend to hide behind her forearm. I thrust my penis all the way in, then leaned forward, laying on top of her, and kissed her. "I'm sorry if I'm making you self-conscious," I whispered, "but at this moment you are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." "No I'm not," she protested, but kissed me appreciatively. I kept thrusting; her kiss broke as a wave of especially pleasurable sensation washed over her. I straightened up--and the chair tipped forward, almost spilling her out. We both cried out in unison as I caught her, but clearly the chair would not be stable enough once I really started tearing it up. "Let's move," she said. I agreed, pulling out and letting her get up. She moved to the bed, but rather than climbing in, she crawled on, resting on all fours, and raising her butt towards me right at the edge of the bed. It was just the right height--I slipped straight in past her labia and picked up where I'd left off. She rocked backwards as I pushed forwards, intensifying the action of my thrusts. I placed my hands on her haunches; her glutes were tight, and rippled slightly with every carnal collision. I stroked her back gently, and of course I could see her red hair--but I missed not seeing her beautiful face. She must have liked it dogstyle, though, or she wouldn't have offered it, so I kept with it. With her assisting, my thrusts became more productive and my arousal rose. That in turn drove me to thrust harder, driving inexorably towards orgasm. Her back was nice, but it wasn't what I wanted to see when I came. So I pulled out, rolled her over and put her in the middle of the bed, and penetrated while lying on top of her. There we were, face to face and genital to genital. We looked each other in the eye, while her legs were bent and out to the side, her pussy stuffed full of my dick. I felt a closeness to her the likes of which I had never felt to a human--and neither of us shied away. My dick might have been happy exploring her for hours, but my nuts were impatient. They were ready to do their job, and becoming increasingly insistent about it. So I raised up a bit higher, moved my knees for better leverage, and got ready to drive down the home stretch. My pace picked up as I fucked my way towards orgasm. She put her hands on my shoulders to steady herself in the face of my insistent thrusts. She bit her lip; I was fucking her so hard, the size of my dick may have been uncomfortable--but she was bound and determined to give me whatever I wanted. That was so sexy...my nuts tensed up, readying for the order. I was going to cum any second. Time to give Amy the one pleasure I'd been withholding up to now--I reached down and lay one finger on the side of her clitoris and my thumb on the other. The pleasurable currents now were running straight through her most sensitive area, just as her pussy was being pounded at maximum overdrive. Her excitement, which had been steady, began shooting towards the sky. I watched her excitement shoot through the roof, and as much as I enjoyed watching, I couldn't hold myself back any longer. I climaxed; pushed in as far as I could go, I locked up in a feeling of unbelievable pleasure as my nuts did their work. I kept my fingers in place, thought, and the pleasurable tingle kept pushing Amy. I may have been frozen by a mind-blowing orgasm, but she was so close herself that she kept rocking her hips back and forth on my staff. Just about the time my second spurt ended her first shudder began, as our orgasms overlapped. ---------- When I woke the next morning, Amy was curled up in my arm, her arm on my chest, still sleeping. She made me feel protective, and it felt good to feel like she was relying on me to keep her safe. Our species doesn't have the same degree of gender dimorphism yours does; women and men are fairly equal in size and strength. I used to wonder about how a smaller, weaker female would be sexually selected, but I understood perfectly at that moment--the way she curled up to me made me want to fuck her again, right now. I suppose this adaptation, which surely led to a lot more sex, compensated for the hit-or-miss nature of reproduction in a menstruating creature. Among our kind, where male sperm trigger ovulation, copulation must more reliably produces offspring and so less sex is needed. I wonder how many of my peers would feel gypped if they knew how human mating worked. Amy stirred, waking but remaining cuddled up with me. Eventually, as she woke further, she rolled to the side and we spooned. We were in no hurry; our leisurely lovemaking was as much about personal intimacy as sex. She was so gorgeous and he body was so hot, eventually I could not help but fill her with another load of semen. We got up, had breakfast, and walked idly around Manhattan just enjoying each others' company. We both knew we had but a few hours to appreciate each other before I needed to be at the airport; it was bittersweet for us both. She insisted on coming with me to the airport; I'd been in lots of airports, but this was the first time I was one of the men saying sad farewells to lovely young lovers before one of them had to leave for elsewhere. I actually felt a tear as I went through security alone. What was it about her, that had touched me so deeply in such a short time? My false papers worked at the Zurich airport, and I took care of my banking business. Having been stuck in the US for so long, I took advantage of being in Europe again--after Zurich it was Geneva, then Paris and London. My fear was getting back in, since US customs would be much more aware of the fine nuances of a genuine passport than those overseas. Eventually I did made it back in to the states, however, by flying in to Toronto, taking a cab to Niagara Falls, and crossing the Rainbow Bridge on foot, appearing like an ordinary tourist and thus receiving no more than a cursory glance at my papers. I sat in a hotel room in Buffalo, knowing I was just eight hours from Amy, wanting to see her--but knowing I couldn't. I imagined dozens of private eyes hired by baby-mamas trying to track me down through the foundation; I would never ask Amy to lie, so the only way to keep from being discovered was if she really didn't know where I was. It was very depressing. For her part, Amy did her job well, and her emails were strictly professional, except maybe for the fact that she would sometimes ask if I would be in New York again soon. That, and a quick note she sent some six weeks later telling me that she thought she had had a miscarriage. Having shallow sexual encounter after sexual encounter just served to remind me how much I missed being close to someone. First with Anna down in the Gulf and now Amy, I found a human that I had feelings for--but that only made it hurt more when I had to stay away from them, too. And the more I longed for relationship, the more difficult it became to suit up every night and seek yet another one-night stand. At the outset, fathering an army of half-humans seemed to be most fun I'd had to do on your planet. As each encounter weighted on my loneliness, I began to wonder if in fact it might not be the most difficult. Superf***er Vol. 05 Superf****er Volume 5: Trapped I could barely pick my head up from the bar far enough to order another double scotch. Not because I was drunk, although I was trying very hard to become such, but because I was despondent. Nineteen years from today, the Earth was going to be hit by an antimatter comet and the entire inner half of your solar system would be obliterated. I was the only one who knew about it, I was the only one who could hope to do anything about it—and so far, while my plan was working, it wasn't working anywhere near well enough. I come from a planet 300 light-years away. I have lived among you for more than a century (in your time), undetected, because of the striking convergent evolution between our species. However, because my planet is much larger, less hospitable and with heavier gravity, I can do things humans can't—in fact, some might consider me to have super-powers. If there were more of me, there are things we might be able to do to avert the catastrophe. Unable to get help from home, I hit upon the idea of cross-breeding with humans, hoping that some of my abilities would be inherited and we might still save this planet—and ourselves. For more than a year, I had been diligently seducing at least one earthling a day. Since in my biology male sperm carries the hormones that induce ovulation, I was counting on being able to counteract oral birth control and reproduce with a high rate of success. I was hoping that by now a hundred halflings would have been born—but the latest report from the foundation I created to provide financial assistance to the mothers of my children showed that to date only sixteen half-human babies had been born. I estimated that I would need to father some 400 children; since I figured that at most half would inherit any given extra-terrestrial ability, that would give me an "army" of 200 or so to try to save us, myself included, when the comet came. Instead I was looking at maybe having eight. Sure, there were others that were still pregnant, but the yield was far below what I anticipated, and my time was running out. I figured that my children would have to be at least 16 to be of any help, so I had about three more years, but the older the children would be, the better. I had to step up my efforts at seeding human females—and frankly, I wasn't sure if I was up to it, because I was just plain TIRED. Not from the sex—don't misunderstand me, I LOVE having sex with your women. The pursuit, however, is a different matter entirely. Seducing females was consuming all of my time, energy, and a lot of the money I had accumulated in a century of wise investing. I was having a harder and harder time turning on the charm and seducing a new partner. It was just so much WORK, even if abilities such as the ability to create tiny, pleasurable electrical currents between my thumb and my fingers were extremely helpful. It was contrary to my nature to just throw in the towel and accept certain death, but at least tonight I was not in the mood to try to put on yet another happy face and play Mr. Debonair yet again. I raised my finger as the bartender passed. "Buddy, I think you've had enough," he told me. Great—he also interpreted my indolence as intoxication. Oh well, there were plenty of other bars—I was not about to raise a ruckus and risk being arrested, at which point the police would, to their surprise, find that no records of my birth existed anywhere. I shrugged, slid off the bar stool, and glumly headed for the door. I squinted as the late-afternoon sun hit my face as I left the dark bar. I turned left and headed up the street, unsure where I was or where I was headed—I knew the Las Vegas strip well, but I was lurking far from the glitz and glamour among the working-class bars of the city itself, and felt lost. Still, this wasn't Utah, so it couldn't be very far to the next bar. I guess I'd had more to drink than I realized...I was a bit unsteady on me feet as I headed up the sidewalk, and it took a LOT of alcohol to get me drunk. I gazed down glumly, feeling sorry for myself as I headed up the street. "Bill!" a voice behind me called, seeming slightly agitated. Maybe if I hadn't been drinking I would have realized I should pretend not to hear—after all, I'm an alien, I don't really have friends and certainly no family that I might run into. But before this thought could process, I had already reflexively turned around. About a half-block behind me, pushing a baby in a stroller, was Crystal. If memory served correctly, she had been just the second earth girl I'd fucked—interesting, both of my first encounters led to viable babies, leading me to wonder if somehow I'd done something different—and now that I had turned around, I was trapped. "I thought maybe you'd at least like to SEE your son at least once, Bill," she hissed as she closed the distance between us. "You've made it amply clear that you want nothing to DO with him." My foundation was surreptitiously providing financial assistance to all of the mothers I impregnated, but now I was faced with the part I had been avoiding—actually meeting them. "Crystal," I stammered, "I thought you lived in L.A..." "I did," she snapped, "until I discovered that Mr. Big Spender left me with this little...present. I moved here to work in the casinos—good tips, on-site daycare. Godsends for a baby whose father abandoned him. Say hello to your father, Edward, because you'll probably never see him again." I already knew his name, but she didn't know that. Nor, I'm sure, would she have suspected that I was delighted to see my progeny. I didn't do this because I wanted to abandon my offspring—I did what I did because I had hundreds more to sire. I knelt down and peeked into the crib, hoping to play with the baby but he was sound asleep. Crystal was shaking her head. "I can't believe you. You were so NICE that night at the bar, so attentive—you seemed so DIFFERENT from other guys. And then bam, you're gone, disappear into thin air—no way to contact you, no one seems to have heard of you. Pretty clever, making it impossible for someone to take you to court and force you to take responsibility for the child you fathered. Do you have any IDEA how much work it is to raise a child alone?" she hissed vitriolically. "Surely, the checks from the Starr Child foundation help..." She was suddenly taken aback. "How did you..." she began, answering her own question before even finishing asking it—I could only know about the foundation if I had been somehow behind it. Small consolation, but perhaps I hadn't abandoned my child as completely as she imagined. I put my finger in the stroller; still asleep, little Eddie (my sources told me that's what he was usually called) reflexively grasped it with his tiny hand. "I see. You set up a cold, impersonal foundation to send anonymous checks to relieve your guilt about the women whose lives you destroyed. So just how many of us are there, huh? Ten? A hundred?" I didn't respond. "You are SO not what I thought you were," she seethed. Without looking up, I adjoined "you have no idea just how much I am not what you think I am." "You can say that again," she hissed, "Well, I have news for you, mister. Maybe you're behind the foundation, but your acceptance of responsibility is grossly insufficient. Now that I've found you, my paternity suit can go forward. I'll see you in court!" I stood up and looked at her. She glared back at me defiantly. She was bluffing of course, her process serves wouldn't find me—I know for a fact that they had been trying. Maybe she thought that she'd find me through the Foundation, but she would soon learn that wouldn't work, either. But that's not what I was thinking about—maybe it was the scotch, maybe it was the despair, but I was just sick of it. Sick of the burden, sick of the time and energy spent seducing earth girls, knowing that each successful mating meant one more person that hated me. I was trying to save your skins too, dammit. And at that moment, I didn't care—didn't care if I was discovered, didn't care if I was apprehended and studied by science. There wasn't a jail on earth I couldn't break out of, anyway. And in that careless moment, I did what I'd spent a century taking great pains not to do. I gave myself away. My eyes narrowed. "Look in my eyes," I challenged coolly, "and tell me what color they are." "What?" she replied testily, looking in spite of herself, "they're blue." "Are they?" I persisted. "Is this the best you can come up with to change the subject?" she sneered. "Yes they're blue...maybe a bit green too...and...oh my..." Her angry confidence started to crumble in the face of the unexpected—she had looked at my eyes long enough for the kaleidoscopic illusion to kick in. I grinned ever so slightly. "Ever seen anything like it?" "So what, so your eyes change color..." she argued, trying to regain her anger and return the topic to the baby and my failure to be the father she imagined I should be. Without a word, I effortless jumped straight up—and landed, on my feet on without bending my knees, on the roof of the one-story liquor store we had been standing in front of. Her head jerked, following me; her eyes grew wide and her mouth fell open as it sank in that what I'd just done should have been impossible. Just as quickly, I coolly jumped back down. I strolled over to the nearest parked car. With seeming no effort, although picked up the front of the car, tipping it on its back wheels at a 30 degree angle. I nonchalantly reached down to pick up a crushed soda can that had been under the car, then mindlessly set the car back down. I took the can and sailed like a skipping stone through the air, watching as it shattered the rear window of a hapless parked car two blocks away. "My name is ------," I said calmly, telling an earthling for the first time my real name. Sorry, as I've said before, it can't be written or pronounced in any terrestrial language I've ever learned. I calmly walked back to the stunned mother on the street. "I was born on --------, a planet some 300 light years away. I have lived among you since your 1908, arriving through a wormhole in the wake of the Tunguska impact. For fifty years I've been waiting for another impact so I can go home. This machine," I continued, pulling out my IMS (Interplanetary Motion Simulator) "tell me when the next collision will be. I just plug in the coordinates..." which I did as I spoke. Of course, the entire device was covered with symbols she had never seen before, so I could have been showing her a Korean calculator for all she knew. However, I had her attention. Numbers quickly spun across the dial, but of course she didn't recognize our number symbols either. Then there was a graphic depiction of a small circle intersecting our location, along with probability vectors for where it might veer. And then the screen suddenly started blinking in large red letters and making a warning sound—she didn't need to understand the device to recognize that this was probably bad news. "What's it telling you?" she asked, dumbfounded. "It's a warning," I explained, "nineteen years from now today Earth will be struck by a comet. Only this isn't an ordinary comet—it's an antimatter comet." "What does that mean?" she asked, no longer confident. "When matter collides with antimatter, both are annihilated in a flash of pure energy," I replied matter-of-factly. "So when this comet collides with earth...the planet will explode?" "Not exactly," I explained. "More like it will simple cease to exist—almost like being vaporized, only vapor is still matter, and all matter will simply be erased. It will release a prodigious amount of energy when it does, though, so it will look like an explosion to a casual observer. Enough energy to take out every planet between Mercury and... oh what do you call it...Juno?...no, Jupiter!. Between Mercury and Jupiter." "We're all going to die?" "You won't have time to die—you'll just cease to exist," I explained, with a flourish "myself included. Unless we can divert this comet—something that can only be done using a pure force. Magnetism, for instance—I have control over my magnetic properties, which humans do not. That's how I can do this." I aligned my magnetodes and shot with feet into the air, then allowed myself to drift slowly down. "But obviously one being can't exert enough force to divert a speeding comet. That's when I had the idea—I couldn't get help from home, but I thought our biologies are so similar, maybe we can crossbreed. If some of inherit some of my extra-terrestrial powers, well then maybe we CAN divert that comet. If not...we're all going to just...disappear," I concluded with a snap of my finger. "So you've been trying to cross-breed?" she muttered, zombie-like. It must be pretty shocking to learn that the father of your baby comes from outer space. "But it seems I have failed," I complained, "little Eddie is but one of sixteen—that puts me about 80 behind schedule. At this rate, there's no way there will be enough of us. So, I'm giving up. Sue me if you like, but don't be too hard on Eddie if he gets in trouble when he's a teen, because he'll not live long enough to see legal drinking age." "Oh my god," she burst, holding her temples, finally overwhelmed. She raced over to a concrete embankment by a gas station a few yards away and sat down. "This can't be real. This must be a nightmare, right?" She slapped her own face "come on, wake up, wake up." "Sorry, my dear," I sighed, "I'm afraid that sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction. Do you want me jump up to the roof again?" She shook her head. "I'm sorry, it must be quite a shock to learn your baby is half-alien," I said, trying to be sympathetic, "it must seem pretty freaky right about now. Do be careful, though—Eddie may be able to lift the sofa before he can walk." "That explains the picture," she said distantly. "Hmm?" "The picture...a few weeks ago, I had given Eddie a bottle, which he was holding—everyone said they'd never seen a baby hold a bottle at three months—and realized I'd forgotten a burp cloth, so I laid him down on the floor with his bottle and went to fetch one. I was gone maybe 20 seconds, but as I turned to go back I heard a crash. I raced back in. Eddie was lying on the floor, perfectly fine, playing with his feet. But his bottle had somehow gotten across the room, knocking over a picture of my parents and shattering the glass." "I thought maybe it was a ghost. I called my parents right away, before I even cleaned up the glass, to make sure they were all right—I was sure one of them must have died. But no—they both spoke to me on the phone. I've been looking for a new apartment, because I've been freaked out to be there ever since." There was a bit of a pause, then she finished "that's the only reason I was out walking—to get out of my haunted apartment." "Not haunted," I reassured her, "there's no such thing as ghosts—trust me on that one. Little Eddie must have gotten sick of his bottle and launched it across the room." I crouched down to look at the sleeping tiger, whispering "good boy Eddie! Way be strong like dear old dad!" My enthusiasm was genuine—if Eddie had inherited my superhuman strength, that mean that my characteristics could indeed be passed on through an earth mother. Well, I had gotten it off my chest. I couldn't tell you what my goal had been in dumping the whole thing on Crystal's lap like I did, except maybe to not feel so much exactly like such the selfish shmuck as she thought I was. I looked up and down the street—fortunately, no one else was on the sidewalk, and the cars were passing too fast to really have seen any of my foolish stunts. Still, I had let myself be goaded into giving myself away, and now for the first time there was a human who knew who I really was...one who wanted to sue me anyway... "How can I help?" she said softly. "Huh?" Now I was bewildered—I don't know what I was expecting her reaction to be, but that wasn't it. "How can I help?" she repeated, more loudly. "I don't want to see the Earth obliterated in 19 years either, what can I do to help save it?" "No...I appreciate the thought," I replied, grabbing the stroller and pulling it closer as I moved to sit down next to her, "but there's nothing you or anyone can do..." "You said you were giving up," she persisted, "why?" "Because my best just isn't good enough," I explained. "Every single day since the day I met you in that stupid bar I've seduced at least one earth woman—and there aren't anywhere near enough babies to show for it. I'm tired—I can't do any more. So I'm giving up." "So what you need," she answered, "is help finding mothers." "If only," I sighed. "Did it ever occur to you to tell us the truth, like you just did to me? That maybe we'd WANT to help if we knew it was the only way to save the Earth?" "No," I admitted, "because in the hundred years I've been here, you're the first human I've told my secret." "Me?" she asked with surprise, "why?" "Guess you caught me at a bad time," I sighed. "You know in the movies, how when they find the aliens they put them in sterile tanks and research them with hazmat suits. I don't think it would be that far from the truth, but I just don't care anymore. You know my secret, go ahead, call the FBI. Funny, 19 years is really kind of a long time, but when you KNOW its your doom, it feels like tomorrow." "Yeah right," she retorted, "I tell a story like that with no proof, and I've got myself a one-way ticket to the funny farm. Someone has to take care of Eddie, and it doesn't look like it's going to be you." There was silence for a while. "I'm sorry," she continued, "it helps to understand that there's a reason, but it doesn't make being a single mother any easier." "I know," I said quietly, "I'm sorry." "If I'm going to have to sacrifice, I don't want it to be for nothing," she said with sudden resolve. "We're going to have to find a way to breed more halflings. I think that there are some resources that could be tapped—if you think you are up to your part." "Depends," I replied, still disbelieving this conversation was taking place. "If you mean inseminating human females, sure. If you mean cruising for women to inseminate, then..." "You might need to be a little less picky," she interrupted, "but I think I could find some ways to help you find partners with less effort. Do you have an email address?" "Of course," I answered, "it's the only way anyone can communicate with me. If anyone knew where I was, I'd never be able to avoid all the process servers—like the ones you send out searching for me, for instance." "You knew about that, huh?" "My sources actually keep me very informed—I'm actually very interested in what happens to my offspring, for reasons you now understand. But I can't become involved in their lives no matter how much I may want to." She stood up suddenly. "Come on," she said, "my apartment isn't far from here, and now that I know its not haunted I'm not afraid to go there anymore. I have an idea, and there's something I want to show you." ----------------------- No sooner were we back at her apartment when Eddie woke up—hungry. As Crystal fed Eddie, she directed me to turn on her computer and browse to a singles website. I clicked around for a bit—I suppose maybe this would be less work, but I didn't think I'd be able to keep up my one-a-day pace like this. It wasn't until Eddie was fed and Crystal could get up and shoo me off of her chair that things started to click. She logged in as a user, explaining with a little embarrassment "it's pretty hard for a single mom to get dates." Once inside, there were all manner of chat rooms and forum boards; some for finding relationships, some for certain interests, one for non-dating matters—and one that said "Trying new things." That's the one she clicked on, saying "I've not really hung out here myself, but some of my girlfriends have." The subject lines caught my eye right away: "Interested in trying a little light bondage?" "Looking to try a three-way." "Anal virgin looking to learn." Superf***er Vol. 05 "Its mostly full of guys, of course," she explained, "but I know a few girls lurk here. Most of them might be interested to try something new here or there, but none of these guys are offering anything in return to make it worth our while. Let's see if we can do better." And with that she began to type a new posting: ZOMG I met this guy and had the best sex—ever! Girlfriends, you are NOT going to believe this. I met this guy through the board, arranged to meet him. He was cute and funny, and we hit it off, so I brought him back to my place. ZOMG, when I reached in his pants, his you-know-what was as big as my effing forearm! Srsly! And man, did he know how to use it! I've never cum so hard! I thought maybe it was true love—but alas, he's from Russia (although you'd never know it) and he's not sure where he's going to end up, so he's not willing to commit right now—cry! I'm not letting myself call him because I'm looking for a relationship and I know I'd get hooked on the mind-blowing sex if I let myself see him again. But I'm telling you, if you're looking for a pleasant diversion while you're searching for Mr. Right, no one can curl your toes like this guy! He's kind if shy so I won't out him, but PM me and I'll forward them to him. GL (sigh). and the posting went live. "OK, now, let's get you set up with your own account," she said. As I stood behind her, she walked me through the process of creating a profile for myself. "There," she said finally, "you can add a picture when you have a chance. Now just watch your inbox for messages forwarded from me." "You really think this will work?" I asked. "I do," she said confidently. "Most of us girls are looking for a serious relationship, but we're not above the casual fling now and then if there's reason to think it's worth your while." "I'm not sure I can live up to your hyperbole," I chuckled. "Don't worry, everyone expects a little embellishment. Anyway, this is just one site. I think there's other angles we can try. There's websites for single women wanting babies, believe it or not. Paranoid conspiracy theory websites where you might find geeky women who'll accept the dark comet story without hard evidence and might be convinced to help save the earth. Find a submissive on a B&D site maybe. Or what might REALLY work well is a wife-swapping or threesome site, although you'd need a female accomplice..." I shook my head in amazement. "You might be right—there's a whole world out there I know nothing about—but why are you doing this? Eddie may be a cute, lovable little burden, but he's still a burden. Why are you helping me out?" "You said the earth was going to be destroyed—or was that just another of your stories that I've bought hook, line & sinker?" "No," I said earnestly, "that's the God's-honest truth." "And you don't think saving the planet is enough reason for me to help you?" "I dunno," I considered, "it's not like I've done you a lot of favors." "I'm a single mother—I could use something besides Eddie and work to keep me going, and one-night stands off the website aren't it." I nodded silently. "And...the part about really knowing how to use it," she added haltingly, staring straight at the unmoving screen, "wasn't really much of an embellishment." "Are you trying to seduce ME?" I laughed. "I'm trying to decide that myself," she said, turning towards me with a light-hearted grin, "especially seeing as it seems a good bet that a second go-round will end up the same way as the first." "I dunno," I said, putting my hands gently on her shoulders and rubbing them. Her eyes closed as she experienced the pleasing tingle from my fingers. "Maybe the fact that you're still breastfeeding will inhibit conception." "I don't think that's going to be enough to protect me," she said softly, "I was on the pill the first time and got pregnant anyway." "My bad," I demurred, "my sperm carries hormones that stimulate ovulation. The perfect counter to the pill." She stood slowly and wrapped her arms around my neck. I gently ran my tingling fingers up and down her back. "See," she whispered in dreamy surrender, "I have no chance against you." Then we kissed. "I have to say I'm a little surprised it doesn't freak you out that I'm an alien," I whispered when we paused to catch some air. "I'm sure it would," she sighed, "but after as many nights as I've dreamt about how it felt when you touched me..." I decided not to explain the electrical charge thing and ruin the mystique. Instead, I gently slid my left hand from her lower back, along her side and up towards the front of her shirt. I ran my hand gently along the rising curve there. Almost immediately, I could feel the nipple straining towards me. I touched the top of her breast while slowly circling the nipple; I could feel her breathing change. She pulled away for a second; pulling down, a flap I didn't even notice fell open, exposing her aching breast. Of course—she was wearing a nursing blouse. Then she wrapped her arms around me again, waiting expectantly for the feel of my fingers on her naked flesh. She let out a soft half-moan half-gasp when I touched her exposed nipple. "My god," she whispered softly, "it's exactly the way I remember." Now I was the one that pulled away. "Crystal, at least let me run to the store to get a condom. You're right, I probably WILL make you pregnant again." "They don't make condoms big enough to fit you—it would snap like a used rubber band," she purred, coming closer again and touching my pants. "Is there something in your plan that says you can't use the same mother twice?" "No," I replied between kisses, "I just don't want to do that to you." "Gotta do what you gotta do to save the planet." Waaaahhhhhhh! We both froze--Eddie had woken up, and as is the way with infants on your planet as well as mine, demanded to be fed NOW! The look of disappointment on Crystal's face surprised me. She glanced at her watch. "8:00. This should be his last feeding before he's down for the night. Stick around?" "I've got no better place to go," I replied wistfully. She didn't bother to replace the breast flap of her blouse as she went to fetch him. I moved to the couch and turned on the TV; Crystal reappeared with Eddie eagerly sucking the nipple I had been stoking minutes with an audible schlup schlup. Hungry little bugger. She sat down next to me on the couch. Eddie stared at me while having his dinner; it felt like he was warning me off: "I don't know what you're thinking, but just so we're clear, this is MY breast!" "Um...could you turn on channel 114?" she asked sheepishly. "Sure," I replied, changing the channel. Four brightly colored, oversized stuffed suits singing songs filled the screen. "It helps Eddie fall asleep," she shrugged. "OK," I replied with a chuckle. I looked back at Eddie, and indeed he no longer noticed my presence at all; he was enthralled by the fuzzy singers, to the point where he sometimes forgot to keep eating. "He sure is a cute little guy." "Yeah, he is," Crystal agreed. "I...I know I sound bitter about having to raise him by myself, but that doesn't mean I don't love him more than anything in the whole world. He may be a lot of work sometimes, but he's worth it." "I really do wish it could be another way, but..." "I know, I know. Who'd have thought that the whole world might have to depend on little Eddie to save us?" After a pause she added "and why me, anyway? I mean, Nicole practically threw herself on you right there in the limo that night, yet you kept focusing on me..." "I did," I admitted. " I saw you in that crazy bar, and something about you...I don't know, but I joined in with your little group just to get closer to you." "That's kind of flattering, I guess...but why? Why me? I mean, my friends are all hotter than I am..." "No, they're not," I interjected. "Oh they may have dressed sluttier, but you were definitely the hot one, even if you were the quiet one." "Me? I'm not hot," she protested. "You're not slutty--you have this air of wholesomeness, and it's yet mixed with the subtle prospect of mind-blowing sex. It's funny...my first thought, when I saw you, was that you looked like every man's cheerleader fantasy, in the flesh." She laughed oddly. "What?" I asked. "Oh nothing...its just that my last boyfriend used to say that I looked like a cheerleader, too." Eddie had stopped sucking, and was almost asleep. She sat him on her lap, bending him over one arm, rubbing his back to get him to burp. "Can...I?" I asked haltingly. That caught her by surprise--I guess because I'd abandoned her, she assumed I had no interest in caring for a baby. "Well, yeah, sure...you ARE the father, after all." She handed groggy Eddie over; I put him on my shoulder and gently tapped his back. "You're not going to crush him with your super strength or something, are you?" "After all the trouble I went through to make him? Not a chance." Crystal picked up a burp cloth and put it on my shoulder. "So what happened to your last boyfriend?" "Bailed the second he heard I was pregnant," she replied dryly. "I'm sorry," I replied. "Not your fault. In fact, at the time I wasn't sure who the father was--it wasn't until blood tests came back that I knew for sure. You've never seen someone so happy as he was when he found out he was off the hook. I guess I don't have the best of luck with men..." she sighed. BLORP. Eddie's burp finally came up, along with a good-sized chunk of goo, saving me from having to respond. He didn't know anything about it--he was already sound asleep. We both made a little "aww" face at the cute sleeping infant. Crystal gently took him from me and went to lay him in his crib. She popped out a second later to turn on baby monitor, saying "Call me if you hear him stirring, OK? I'll be back in a second." I just had time to nod before she darted back down the hallway. I heard rustling sounds in the back of the apartment, and she was gone for at least ten minutes. Suddenly she appeared, striking a pose in the doorway, announcing herself by saying "well?" I looked up and..."wow" is all I could say. She had changed clothes, and now was wearing a cheerleader uniform--a real one. It had a pleated short skirt and matching sweater in maroon with yellow-gold trim, a big "U" in the front, and matching pom-poms. "I really was cheerleader, in high school and in college. My last boyfriend always liked me to put it on before we went to bed, too. I don't get what gets you guys so excited about it anyway, it's just a little skirt and sweater." "Maybe it's the principle of the thing," I suggested. She shrugged. "I'm pretty happy, though, that even after Eddie it still fits," she replied with a little pride as she sauntered into the room, patting her belly. "Well, except for the shoes--my feet got a size bigger when I was pregnant." Until she had called attention to it, I hadn't noticed that she was barefoot in her uniform--I was transfixed the teasing little strip of belly that peeked out between the top of the skirt and the bottom of the sweater. That, and the way that the sweater tightly hugged and accentuated her chest. "It's a little tight in here, too," she said, shifting both poms to one hand and patting her breasts, "I'm bigger now that I'm breastfeeding." "No complaints," I squirmed. My dick was trying to stand at attention but was trapped in my pants. She glanced my way and saw the bulge running halfway down my thigh. "Of course, maybe that's a good thing..." she said slyly. "Do you remember any of your cheers?" I asked. "Of course I do..." and she took up a ready position, then launched into a cadenced chant, shifting her feet back and forth, spinning, throwing her pom-poms this way and that. She looked like any cheerleader you might see on the sidelines of a basketball game, only she was a lot closer than I'd ever been to one. I reminded myself that if I went to a basketball game again, it was worth shelling out the difference for front-row, courtside seats. She finished with a big kick and jubilant bouncing up and down. I clapped appreciatively. I don't know, maybe it was something to do with that perkiness, combined with the teasing skin, that makes a man want to throw a cheerleader down and pin her to the floor with your dick. Or at least, it did me. "Of course, that's what it would look like on the sideline. When I was with my old boyfriend, I did it a little different." I raised my eyebrows as she folded under her sweater, so that it was now just a half-shirt. Her waist was still shapely; you would have never guessed she'd borne a child if you didn't know. Then she launched in to a routine that was the same and yet completely different. Instead of high-temp and perky, she walked through her step in a manner that was slow and slinky--half cheerleader, half stripper, you might say. In the first version, she might bounce up and down while throwing her pom-poms straight out to the sides and back rapidly. In this version, she would strike a pose, hips cockeyed at a sexy angle, and sultrily unfold her arms. Rather than throw her arms overheard, she slowly lifted them, pausing at the top to thrust out her chest as far as possible. Lifting her arms raised her shirt up even further, and the bottom curve of her breasts peeked out; she wasn't wearing a bra. Suddenly she spun around to show me her backside, bending far over slowly and grabbing her ankles. That wasn't part of the original routine. She stood slowly, spun deliberately to face me again, and reached one arm and then the other towards me, tossing the pom-poms in my lap as she did. She did the spin again, only this time she grabbed the underpants that went with the skirt and as she bend over, she slipped them down her legs. The skirt of course lifted, and her bare cheeks were staring me in the face. She stepped out of them, then still bent over spread her legs far apart so that I could see her sex. I noted that her bush was neatly bikini waxed; I wondered that she'd take the time to do that, what with Eddie and her claims of not having any dates. Then I remembered she said she was waitressing; I didn't know where, but many of the uniforms on the strip might well require a bikini wax to look good. At this point, I HAD to move, however--my dick desperately needed more room. I adjusted so that I was no longer caught in my pants leg, although I was still straining within my pants. "Pull it out and stroke it," Crystal commanded with a sultry voice. "My old boyfriend always used to masturbate while I danced, and I like being able to see that I'm affecting you." Obediently I opened up my pants. My dick sprang straight out as soon as it was clear of its restraints. I grasped myself and stroked my erection while she continued to tease me. True to her word, she kept her eyes locked on my dick as she did. She kicked again, but now rather than a fast kick it was slow, swooping up and the out to the side in an arc on its way down, ensuring that I got a good view up her skirt as she went by. She threw her arms up again, but now she first pulled her shirt up so that when her arms stretched to the sky, her shirt crept further and further up her breasts. She arched her back to thrust them out forward, making them peek out even more; half of her nipples winked at me from under her sweater. She was right; they were much larger now that she was breastfeeding. No longer a handful at best, they were ripe and meaty and made my mouth water. I could wait no longer. My hands suddenly left my crotch, slipped under her sweater and gently yet firmly grasped both nipples between my thumb and index finger. "Ohhhhh," she cried as the gentle current between my fingers stimulated her nips to indescribable pleasure. They had been erect, but I could feel them straining, trying to reach past maximum extension as they reached towards the pleasure. This made them that much more fun to hold. Crystal reached down for my penis and started to stroke it. She was not about to move, though, so long as my electric fingers kept touching her nipples. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, though--I dropped my left hand down, touched her thigh, then gently slid my hand up her skirt. I had no trouble finding her hot, wet pussy with my finger. I was very careful NOT to let my thumb make contact, however, because shooting those pleasure currents through their clits almost always gets human women off--usually in a minute or less, literally. Still tweaking her left breast, I slid my left hand back and forth, rubbing her slit. She adjusted her feet wider apart. I felt the nubbin of her clitoris rising, and focused my stroking on it. She had her eyes closed and was enjoying the ride; so much so, in fact, that she would sometimes forget she was holding my dick and would have remind herself to keep stroking. "Come here, cheer girl," I teased. Stroking was OK, but my dick wanted...better treatment. She took a step forward. I pulled up the sweater; she raised her arms and effortlessly it was tossed aside. Then I lay down on her sofa. Holding her hand, I pulled her my direction, but turning her at the same time; she understood my intent and swung her leg over my head, straddling me. She then lay flat on top of me and started to caress my erection with her tongue. Thus we proceed with a leisurely sixty-nine. Her crotch filling my face, I licked her pussy while she sucked my dick. She couldn't take all of my length, of course, but what she could reach she did good work with. She would kiss and lick all around my head, then purse her lips and swallow as far as she could. Then she would let go, lick from bottom to top, and start over again. In the meantime, she would stoke my balls with a feather touch, almost a tickle really. It was great. All the while, I had not forgotten our pregnancy conundrum. I knew that human males sometimes ejaculate in...other orifices (something females of my planet would never agree to without substantial amounts of money changing hands). I'd never really thought much about it, because my whole purpose in fucking human females was to impregnate them--but here I was having sex, and I really didn't want to knock Crystal up again, at least not yet. I had grown quite fond of blowjobs, though, and thought that maybe this would be my chance to see what a real blowjob felt like all the way to the end if you catch my drift. With the effort she was putting into giving me head, it seemed like it was bound to happen eventually. Crystal, though, wasn't satisfied. She knew how it felt to have my meat stuffing her, and she wouldn't settle for anything less. She got off me, started to pull my legs off the sofa, and seated herself in the corner, only with her hips flush to the edge of the cushion. "What are you doing?" I asked. "I want you inside me," she answered plaintively. "Crystal...if we do it this way, you'll get pregnant again..." "I don't care," she interjected. "I want to feel you fill me again. And if I do, well, then I'll be doing double my duty for the defense of earth." It was clear she meant business; I was moving tentatively in the direction she was insinuating, but she was adamant. She gripped my penis in her hand, stroking firmly, while spreading her legs far apart and aligning her hips so I could penetrate while kneeling next to the couch. She wouldn't let go; she half-dragged me by the penis to her opening. As soon as she was within range she somehow threw her hips out. It wasn't so much that I penetrated her as that she engulfed me. "Ohhhh," she moaned again. Now that I was in, I was ready to let it rip. I mean, I'd been trying to save her the trouble; I was more than happy fuck the shit out her. And if she wanted it that bad, well, look out baby 'cause here it comes. As I slipped in... and out... and in... and out, I realized this had to be the wettest pussy I'd ever dipped my wick in. I flipped up the little flap that was the front of her skirt and watched my penis as it disappeared between her thighs. When it came back out, it was shiny from the glistening juices into which it was bathed. Then it disappeared again, only come out three seconds later freshly dipped in the fragrant pools created by her arousal. Superf***er Vol. 05 I realized that she was my first repeat customer; every other woman I'd screwed had been a pickup, a one-night stand. Sure the sex was consensual, but it was always with at least a glimmer of trepidation, not knowing what to expect. Crystal, however, knew what to expect, and it made her want it all the more. Crystal was in another world inside her head. Her eyes were closed, but her brows were knitted with concentration. There was pleasure coming from all parts of her body, and she was attending to them all. Just to add to the symphony of ecstasy, I tweaked her nipple again. She breathed heavy and made a little smile as the currents excited the sensitive tips again. Her face relaxed a little and she leaned back. There was now so much pleasure, she couldn't help but be bathed in its feeling no matter where her thoughts took her. The baby, work, her anger towards me--those were all part of another time and place. Now, she was fulfilled, stuffed to the brim with throbbing penis, washed in wave after wave of pleasure. If only peak moments like these weren't so fleeting. Earlier her dancing got more erotic as she watched my penis react; now it was I that was watching her and feeding off her physical reactions. I stroked her harder and faster, getting off on the fact that she was getting off, big time. My intensification was reflected in her face and her body, as she contorted herself in what might seem a very uncomfortable position, yet she noticed not as her focus was solely on maximizing our genital contact. And of course, her reaction drove me to even greater intensity. I remembered my earlier image of pinning a cheerleader down to the floor with my dick, and realized this was my chance to do just that. She had a large couch, though; rather than getting rug burns on the floor, I could pin her to the sofa. So I pulled out and stood up. She quickly opened her eyes, and I turned her so she lay across the couch on her back. Then I climbed on top of her and stuffed my dick in as far as it could go. "Oohhh!!" she squealed again. She threw her arms up over her head lazily. It seemed appropriate that she lay in a position of submission; she was hooked on what my body did to her body, and not even her own common sense prevailed over it. The only thing missing, perhaps, was a pair of handcuffs. I reached out to my sides, finding her ankles. I gently pushed them up and together, sliding my arms under them and laying them on my shoulders. I kissed her shapely calf, thrusting all the while. I shifted a bit forward, so now she was much under me as in front of me. I was slamming her with an almost up and down motion, and she was bent almost in half under me with her ankles by my ears. Ahh, that's the ticket--I was literally nailing her to the sofa with my penis, cute little cheerleader that she was. Crystal had no idea about my mental imaginings, of course. She was lost in a world of her own, luxuriously bathing in a pool of pleasure. Her eyes were closed, but mine were open, and I was watching her. I was so wrapped up in the moment I wasn't aware just how aroused I was getting. I mean, I knew I was in the middle of a great fuck, but it caught me by surprise when I suddenly had The Feeling. If you're a guy, you know what I mean: that feeling in your nuts that tells you that the trigger has been pulled, the orgasm machinery has been started, and the pleasures of ejaculation were right around the corner. Oh man...I had been so caught up in my cheerleader fucking fantasy, I hadn't even come up with a plan to deal with the fertility problem. I was so used to getting my partner off at least once before I did, I wasn't expecting that I was the one about to blow. I had no more time to think...and so I just reacted. I yanked my dick out quickly, grabbed it with my fist, and stroked myself silly. It was past the point of no return, so in a split second I started shooting bursts into the air--I didn't even know where it was landing, I just knew it wasn't inside her pussy. "Hey..." she said suddenly; my eyes had been closed, but I think that she had opened her eyes when my pulling out interrupted her reverie, only to find herself having to duck the first gusher of sperm. Without seemingly thinking, I responded by quickly shoving two fingers into the orifice I had just vacated and rubbing her clitoris with my thumb. "OOOHHHHHH!" was the response as the pleasure currents coursed through her clit. I could feel her hips suddenly grind into my thumb, hard, in response to the unimaginably intense stimulation. My eyes were still closed, mind you, and my other hand was still stroking me through my orgasm--I had no idea where I was shooting my seed. Neither did she; her eyes were closed again, and her poor little body was almost exploding, the pleasure neurons were firing so fast. I opened my eyes when I felt the sac was empty--just in time to watch her cum, too. She sucked in hard, arching her back, pushing herself into the couch. Then she suddenly bent forward as shudders racked her entire body. I swear the cushions shook like in an earthquake as Crystal's little body quivered helplessly, swept away by an orgasm to end all orgasms. ---------- Afterwards I surveyed the damage we had done. There were two streaks of cum running along her belly and up her chest--highway lines of love. But I had also managed to blast some into her hair and onto the couch behind her. "I'm sorry," I stammered. "Why did you...do that?" she asked. "It's nice of you to volunteer to have another child...but let's let Eddie get a bit older first, OK?" "OK," she smiled. "Its kind of scary--I really didn't want another baby, at least not yet, but once you start doing things to me..." I bent over and kissed her. When I straightened, I said "it was kind of a last-second reaction, but I think there's a good chance it will be enough. But I'm sorry, I got some on the couch; I'll buy you a new one..." "Don't worry about it," she said, moving so that she could sit more comfortably on her butt rather than on her back, "Eddie has thrown up on this couch a dozen times. It'll have to be replaced, but no point until he's weaned." When she moved, we could see that there was also a big wet stain under her butt where her excess juices had soaked in. "Let me at least get a towel for that," I said, getting up and heading to the bathroom before she could protest. Returning, I tossed it to her so she could wipe herself off. "Lift your feet," I said, playfully mimicking the tone of a scolding mother. She toppled herself over sideways on the couch, curling her legs up under her. I knelt and patted the towel onto the wet spot. I was aware that Crystal was watching me, and I was a bit self-conscious for this was not the sort of thing I would normally do au natural, but when I glanced over her way her eyes were drooping. I kept patting the spot as best I could, then returned the towel to the bathroom. I didn't know where she kept her laundry, so I tossed it on the floor. I did a quick search, but found no other towels; heading into the hall, I found a closet and soon had a fresh one to hang. By the time I got back, exhausted Crystal was sound asleep. She was almost as cute as Eddie when she slept, in a very different way of course. I gently slipped my hands under her and, her slight weight in Earth gravity being nothing to me, I easily carried her to her bed. I laid her down, pulled back the covers, then lifted her again and tucked her in. I thought about joining her, but since I hadn't explicitly been invited I decided I had better sleep on the couch. That encounter turned out to be turning point. Crystal's apartment became a regular stopover on the night before I left Vegas, and I went to Vegas a lot because that's where I won most of my spending money. Her Internet connections also turned out to be a gold mine; if even once a week I could get my lay without spending hours in the bars, it really helped me to keep going. But even more than that, she showed me something more subtle and profound. She showed me that the women of earth could be willing participants in their own salvation. Saving the planet one pussy at a time started to become a partnership WITH humans, not something I had to always do TO them. Superf***er Vol. 06 "We know antimatter exists...but we don't know anything about its properties. Shouldn't it follow the same laws of physics as matter? And if all matter has mass, and therefore gravity, then shouldn't antimatter also have gravity? And if it has gravity, then won't it by nature tend to aggregate? In which case, why can't there be antimatter asteroids? Comets? Maybe even planets?" I re-read what I wrote, and clicked send. Another salvo in my ongoing campaign to prepare the physics community to understand what it will be looking at when, some nineteen years down the road, the antimatter comet destined to collide with (and thus obliterate) Earth will first show itself. I went to my email and started clearing out the hate mail I was getting from the physics establishment, which considered me a crackpot if not an outright nutcase. A number of petitions had been circulated calling to ban me from the boards, but so far at least the moderators had refused to do so, since I was persistent but polite and was not violating any of the rules of the forum. That, and the pesky fact that although my opinions were unpopular and contrary to prevailing wisdom, there were no FACTS that could definitely disprove my assertions. Like in "12 Angry Men," as long as I was allowed to keep talking, eventually the facts would bear me out, because of course I knew all about dark matter—it's a lot more common in the corner of the universe I come from than it is around here. Oh, whoops...I suddenly realized the email I'd just deleted wasn't from the physics board, it was from the much more exciting part of my plan to save the world—fathering an army of half-human hybrids that might inherit some of the "powers" indigenous to my kind. Your species and mine are an amazing case of parallel evolution, despite taking place 300 light-years apart and in vastly different environments. We are so similar that, amazingly, we can interbreed; so far there had been two dozen or so live births. I estimated that it was going to take about 200 individuals with abilities like mine, however, to try to divert the comet, so every day I diligently went out, met and mated with at least one human female. Yeah, it's great to have all that sex, but it's also extremely draining over the long haul--just ask any aging rock star. Fortunately, it had recently gotten easier thanks to a chance encounter with Crystal, the mother of one of my first children. She frequented singles boards on the net; once I let her in (against my better judgment) on the future fate of earth, she started using those connections to hook me up with others on the boards. She would tell slightly embellished tales of how amazing it was to have sex with me and how huge my dick was, and every now and then someone would bite on the bait (for the record, phalluses of my species seem to run about 50% bigger than yours). Sxyktty21 was a girl I'd hooked up with last week through one of Crystal's connections, and she seemed to have left a satisfied customer. It was too soon for her to realize she was pregnant (she wouldn't have expected to be, not knowing that my sperm carries hormones that stimulate ovulation and thus counteract oral contraceptives), so I was curious why she'd be emailing me again. I went to my trash bin to find the message and opened it up. Bill- Thanks again for the amazing evening—I'll be forever spoiled by the size of your...manhood. But just as I didn't believe it, I have a girlfriend who is convinced that I'm making up stories. She'll only believe it if she can see it for herself, so I told her I'd pass it along to see if that would be something you'd be interested in. There's a big costume party that we'll both be going to next weekend, and it tends to get a little wild--I'm quite certain it would be well worth your while, if you know what I mean. Let me know if you're interested, and I'll send you the details... Kelly Awesome—a customer referral, so to speak. Good thing she signed her name, though, because I had forgotten it. Come to think of it, I don't think she'd ever told me her name; she was anxious to see the goods, and once she did you couldn't pry her off me. Smiling to myself, I wrote her back saying I'd love to. ------------ That Saturday night I found myself walking up to a huge mansion in the hills outside Hollywood. It was dark and stormy, which seemed appropriate because the massive structure I could make out with each burst of lightning seemed to be half Hefner and half Frankenstein. There were a lot of cars out front, but the only other sign of life was an older, baron of industry-type who was walking in the door as I approached with what seemed to be a vivacious young blonde. It was hard to tell, because she was wearing a long pink trenchcoat, but in a flash of lighting I saw she had on the kind of high heels you generally only find at a porn shoot. I got to the door. I was expecting to find a butler, but instead found two burly, hired-security types. I murmured the secret passphrase without which, I was told, I would not get int. That was just one of the things that was odd about this event; she had said it was a costume party, but when Kelly wrote back she clarified that it was kind of a costume party for the girls, but for men the dress code was business casual. Then, when I got inside, I was ushered to a large room on the left with all of the other men. I got myself some gin, then went to wander the house--but the only other door in the room was watched by a servant, who admonished me as I approached "not yet, sir. Soon." Soon--for what? Almost all of the men seemed to be mover-and-shaker types. There were a few faces I recognized from the film industry (both sides of the camera), but I won't out those people by naming names. I wasn't here to schmooze, so I took up a position by the wall where I could see the entryway. I soon recognized a pattern. A few men came alone like me, usually the younger-looking ones. Most came with a beautiful young escort; the ladies were always shuttled to the right, the men to the left. A few times a group of beautiful young women came unescorted; I actually saw Kelly arrive with two other girls who I presumed were her friends. I thought she would come speak to me, having invited me, but instead she only gave me a quick wave before heading to the right. And the weirdest part of all--every single woman came in wearing a long pink trenchcoat. What was this, a coordinated costume party? Another partygoer came up to me suspiciously. "I don't believe we've met. My name is Arthur." "Bill," I said, shaking his hand and seeming cordial without inviting further conversation. "Bill...Bill," he said, searching his memory. "I'm sorry, I don't recall seeing that name on the invitations list. Whose guest were you again?" "Um...Kelly's?" I answered uncertainly--I didn't even know her last name. I didn't yet understand why they were so adamant about steering away uninvited guests. His response surprised me. "Oh, Kelly...yes, but of course, I do recall she requested a guest pass. Please forgive me, but it is rather unusual for the women to invite guests, but of course they are always welcome to. It's the least we can do, what given how much work they do to make these parties a success. Anyway, this is my house, and if there's anything you desire, don't hesitate to ask." "Thank you. And a very nice house it is, sir," I quickly added. "Gentlemen..." cried a voice. A butler had appeared by the door where previously I had been thwarted and was getting everyone's attention. "It is time for the floor show to begin. This way please." With a cordial smile, but no further words, my host quickly departed. Twenty conversations had ended all at once, and now everyone was pressing politely towards the door. The entire room took on an air of anticipation. I suddenly realized that these parties were probably a somewhat regular occurrence, and I was perhaps the only person in attendance who did not know what to expect. I was the last to pass through the door. On the other side there was a real, honest-to-goodness ballroom. There was a raised stage to my left, and the floor was filled with round banquet tables, now almost all filled with men speaking in hushed tones. There were long tables set up on the far side of the room, neatly tableclothed but currently empty, and a bar to my right. I moved to the right and found a seat at the last table. Including myself only three of the eight chairs were taken, and other than a smile and a nod we made no effort to get to know each other. Everyone faced the stage expectantly. There were doors on either side of the stage; presently a male servant came out of the door stage left, wheeling a large clothing rack full of empty hangers. On cue, a spotlight came on and an older, proper-looking tuxedoed man appeared on the stage--a butler, possibly, but for now an emcee. "Good evening, Gentlemen," he said into a microphone he carried with him, "and now for the part you've all been waiting for...the FLOOR SHOW." He turned sideways with outstretched arm in the time-honored means of introduction, and the light followed his hand to stage right. A beautiful woman appeared, smiling, standing at the back of the stage in the same pink raincoat I'd been seeing all the girls wearing. She strode forward confidently to the front of the stage, which jutted out about six feet beyond where the curtain hung. She got up next to the emcee...quickly unbuttoned one button of the raincoat...and whipped it open, revealing what she wore underneath. Her outfit drew appreciative applause. She wore a black corset, semi-sheer, the kind that doesn't cover the breasts but instead frames and lifts them for maximum effect. Black silk stockings were attached to garters integrated into the corset, but her exposed crotch was covered by neither underwear nor pubic hear. She let the raincoat slip off her arms, handing it to the emcee subtly. Then she stood strong with legs apart, almost superhero-like, proudly displaying her shaved pubes. She briefly reached to her crotch and parted her outer labia (as best as can be done standing) to reveal give a glimpse of what lie inside, then quickly turned and headed off back stage left. While we were all entranced by the woman in the spotlight, the emcee had handed off the coat and the servant was placing it on a hangar. As soon as the first woman was off, a second pink-raincoated beauty stood in the wings stage right. Each one was more beautiful than the next, and each one did the same: walked on in her raincoat, then dropped it and handed it off to the emcee while displaying what manner of male fantasy she was embodying underneath. There were cheerleaders, bondage slaves, sexy secretaries, a very nice genie, and bad-girl schoolgirls. Some didn't have a clear theme, but all of them were unbelievably skimpy, arranged so as to hide nothing, or both. There was total silence in the audience as each of us imagined what we might do with each one should the opportunity arise. There must have been thirty of them in all. Wow. "All right, gentlemen, that's the floor show," said the emcee. "In ten minutes we will begin with visitations. Same rules as usual. In the meantime, kick back and enjoy yourself with a drink." On cue, four waitresses appeared, two from each stage-side door. I had just started to wonder what had become of Kelly, since I had seen the friends she had arrived with taking part in the floor show but not she herself. It turned out she was one of the four "waitresses." These were not your ordinary waitresses, mind you: each wore knee-high black boots, a short, wide black PVC skirt, and no top. Each girl's arms were fastened behind her in an armbinder, and each girl bore a tray full of drinks that was carried by means of a belt around the waist and a chain attached to a black leather slave collar on her neck. Spelled out in rhinestones on the collar was the type of drink she carried on her tray; Kelly was Gin & Tonic. I watched as she and the Martini girl next to her went to the first table, which relieved each of about half her drinks. The first man at the second table, however, snatched all the remaining drinks from her tray and set them on the table. Pulling his chair out from the table, Kelly was made to kneel in front of him and began sucking his dick while he sat back in the chair and sipped the cocktail. I suddenly realized I didn't see Martini girl, either, and then I spotted her. There was a man standing by the wall, and she was kneeling in front of him, also busy providing oral gratification. This promised to be an interesting party. "It'll be at least two hours by time they suck their way back here," one of the men at my table observed with amusement. Good thing we're right by the bar, so there's no need to wait. Anyone need anything? I shook my head; I'd get my own. A butler came out carrying a large wooden board with wooden pegs sticking out. There were two rows of keys with little number tags hanging on them. "Just a little reminder how this works. Anyone is welcome to visit any room if the key is hanging. If the key is not hanging, that room is not available. If two of you wish to visit a room together, that is your prerogative, but you must decide before leaving the ballroom. No more than two men per room at any time. And of course, as soon as you are finished with your visit, return the key here so that another man may have a chance. Any questions?" The room fell silent. With a slight nod of OK, a dozen men jumped up to grab keys and headed for the door. There was a pause, as the remaining men waited...should I take a turn? Should I wait? One by one, the remaining keys disappeared from the shelves. When they were all gone, about half of the room remained. "Gentlemen," announced the emcee, "no need to be bored while you are waiting. There are entertainments in the next room as well." With a flourish, he pointed towards the back of the room where we sat. The wall behind me suddenly buckled, revealing itself to be a false wall, opening up to reveal another room behind it. There were other manly diversion here; darts, cards, even a craps table. Most of the remaining men stood and wandered into it--at least those not in the middle of a receiving a blowjob. Feeling self-conscious as men filed past my table, I got up and stood by the polished brass rail of the old oak bar. Although I still had a little left in my glass, I had the bartender pour me a new one anyway. Once the room was mostly empty, servants started coming through the side door and setting up an hors d'oeuvre buffet on the long table by the wall. The martini girl came up to the bar; the bartender started mixing three new drinks for her empty tray. I looked in Kelly's direction in time to see the man she was with lifting his butt out of the chair, tilting his head back and wincing while pushing Kelly's head onto his crotch. Moments later, he slumped back into his chair and released her. She stood up in businesslike fashion, apparently having swallowed the deposit he had dumped in her mouth. She now headed to the bar to refill her tray. She smiled when she saw me. "Hi Bill, I'm glad you could come..." she made a little face when she realized she'd inadvertently made a pun, but decided to ignore it. "I like your kind of party," I smirked. "I knew you would." She arrived at the bar, where the bartender was already mixing another load of Gin and Tonics. "I like your uniform," I pointed out, mainly as a pretext for grasping her nipple. I saw her bit her lower lip as the pleasurable currents running between my thumb and finger made her nipple explode. She concentrated on standing straight in spite of the distraction. I leaned in a little closer. "I wish more places had waitresses like this," I added banally while touching her thigh, then running my finger up and under her tiny skirt. There was a PVC panty built in to the skirt, but it was no trouble to slide that aside and find her shaved slit. I rubbed it with my finger, warming her up until I could slip my finger into her pussy. When I did, I then planted my thumb on her clit and started to rub. She sucked in air and gulped; the pleasure was now stimulating the hell out her most sensitive area. She tried to steady herself even as her body raced rapidly towards orgasm. The bartender, either oblivious or well-trained to appear to be, put drinks on her tray. Ice started clinking immediately; no matter how hard she tried, she could not stand still with her the nerves of her clit firing like mad. Carefully, she leaned forward until the tray touched the bar. With no hands to steady herself, she leaned against it herself. The drinks now stabilized, she stood firm, holding her position until the inevitable orgasm. It didn't take long; good thing she had stabilized her tray, because the shudders would have left behind a lake of gin otherwise. With satisfaction, I withdrew my fingers, carefully replacing the skirt the way I had found it. "Now be sure that you do that to my friend!" she commanded when she caught her breath. "OK," I answered gamely. I presented my thumb and finger to her, glistening from her juice. She gamely sucked them clean as if they were a two-headed penis. It was a shame I couldn't afford to waste any semen in non-fertile orifices, because I bet it was just HEAVEN to cum down her throat like the fat guy in the chair had just done. When they were clean, I reclaimed my fingers and asked "so which one is the friend I'm supposed to see." "Her name is Heather, room 14. Today I think she's a Harem girl or a genie or something." I nodded--excellent. That outfit had been hot; I had already planned on visiting that room anyway... ----------------- Apparently I wasn't the only one that thought so, because room 14 turned out to be a pretty popular place. A lot of keys never made it back to the board, as men traded them with acquaintances on their way back. I could have gone to a number of different rooms, some more than once, before I finally managed to snatch the key to room 14. I opened the door, and immediately was greeted with "your wish is my command, master!" I couldn't help but smile--this was gonna be fun. "Thank you, Genie," I answered offhandedly as I moved nonchalantly around the minimalist black leather sofa and sat down. She was sitting on the floor with her knees bent under her, hands in her lap, facing the sofa, waiting to receive orders. I sat for a moment and looked at her while she waited patiently. She had light blonde hair, long, that was tightly bound and pointing outwards from the back of her head at about a 45-degree angle, then hung loose in a ponytail down from there. She had on a pink half-vest with no buttons that hung straight down over the top of a dark pink strapless bikini top. The vest ended just below her breasts, so her torso was bare down to the tops of her harem pants, with a cute little silver ornament dangling from her belly button. The harem pants were sheer over the leg, but opaque at the waist. "Oh Genie, my feet are so tired," I complained, "can you massage them for me?" "Yes master," she replied snappily. She got up, walked the ten feet or so over to where I was sitting. As she crossed the room I noticed that her harem pants were rather unusual; they weren't opaque covering her crotch, but rather from the narrow waistband down they were entirely sheer down to their bottoms above the ankle, where the cuffs were made of the same brocaded fabric as the waist. As she resumed her sitting position at my feet, I briefly caught a glimpse of her shaved mound. That's when I realized that these weren't so much harem pants as harem chaps, because they had no crotch at all. When she stood, they naturally fell to kind of cover her and look like regular harem pants, but all she needed to do was part her thighs she could easily be penetrated in either hole without having to take them off. Good planning. Superf***er Vol. 06 She untied my shoes, pulled them off and began to massage my feet, looking up at me like the eager-to-please servant she was supposed to be. This caused her to bend forward, which made the vest hang open. "Mmm, that feel good Genie," I commented, "but it would feel better if you removed your top." "Yes master," she replied, hiding a smirk, but started to take off the vest. "No no...," I interrupted, "not the vest...just the thing under it." "Oh, sorry. Of course master." She reached behind her and released an unseen clasp; the top came loose and she pulled it out from under the vest. When I gave no further instruction, she resumed massaging my feet. But now when she bent forward, the vest fell open again and I could gaze appreciatively at almost all of her bare breasts as she worked. They were round and bountiful, with small areolas but large nipples. I watched them jiggle while she worked. I reached for one, but it was just a bit too far. "Come move a little closer to me Genie," I commanded. She scooted over so that was sitting sideways in relation to me next to the couch. Now when she massaged my feet I could easily slip my hand under the vest. I felt the weight of her breast as gravity hung it down into my hand. I squeezed it appreciatively, enjoying the unique texture and density of the breast. It felt so wonderful, I forgot about my fingers and instinctively clasped her nipple between my thumb and middle finger, twirling it gently. "Oohhh," she moaned with emphasis as the microcurrents created between my fingers and thumb went right through the tender nerve endings of the breast, driving her nipples insane with pleasurable sensations. "Do you like that Genie?" I teased. "Yes master," she replied, only as more of a sigh than a snappy response. "I don't mind doing it for you, Genie, I like it too. But maybe you could pleasure me a little, too?" "YES master," she agreed enthusiastically. With her nipple still firmly in my grasp, she turned her attention from my feet to my belt. She loosened it, then opened my button and fly. She reached her hand into my drawers, feeling for my penis. She found it, but discovered she couldn't just pull it out, it was stuck on something. She didn't realize it was still pinned in the leg of my pants, because male genitalia in my species run one and a half to two times bigger than human dicks. I've explained before about the high rate of pregnancy resulting from it make intercourse a rare event among my kind; nature has tried to compensate by giving males of my species as many tools as possible to increase female pleasure and thus improve our odds of gettin' some. She pulled down on my pants, and I assisted by lifting my butt so she could easily pull them all the way off. She was concentrating on taking my pants off neatly and laying them aside so they wouldn't wrinkle; it wasn't until she'd done so and returned that she took a good look at the tree trunk pointing proudly skyward. She flinched briefly when she was the size of it, and looked my way with surprise before she could stop herself. I smiled a little; it never gets old to have women react to your junk that way. "I'm the friend Kelly told you about," I explained softly as I reached towards her. I gently stroked the back of her head in anticipation of it being in my lap. "She wasn't kidding," she responded, grasping me gently and stroking me. She jerked it for a few seconds, almost as if to convince herself it wasn't a prosthetic of some kind, before setting to work on what she had been commanded to do. She started sucking cautiously at first, just taking the top of my staff into her mouth. She sucked with a nice rhythm, though, and kept the rest of me happy with her hand. What was really keeping me hard, though, was watching her breasts bouncing ever so slightly under the open vest as was going down on me. I reached for one again, but this time tweaked it between my first two fingers. Based on her response the first time I'd done that, I figured if I let the thumb touch it and set off those currents again she be so distracted she'd stop sucking me entirely. She slowed suddenly and made a conscious effort to suck more of me down. She pushed herself down on me, and I started feeling the constriction at the back of her mouth that marked the beginning of her throat. The she back off and resumed sucking as before. I appreciated her attempt to swallow more of me, though, so I let my thumb gently touch the nipple as I pinched it lightly between my fingers. This made the currents resume and I felt the nipple stiffen further in response. I just let it touch for a moment, though. She looked up towards me, just barely holding my tip in her mouth. That sensation was intense; I wasn't sure if her look was more "how do you do that" or more "how can I get you to do that again?" I just raised my eyebrows at her; she had more sucking to do. I don't know that she understood the message, but that's what she did anyway; she resumed focusing on my dick, and again tried to deep-throat me. I got down a little further this time. Then she gently slid off and reverted to her sucking rhythm. Again I responded by letting my thumb touch the captive nipple for a moment or two. Without a word, the rules of the game were set. "Genie" would try to suck me down as deep as she could, and I would reward her efforts by letting touching her nipples with my thumb so that the pleasure currents excited them beyond belief. She got pretty good at it by the seventh or eighth time; I was well into her throat, and she was getting her nose to within a couple of inches of bottom. It felt awesome when she deep-throated me, but this game was getting kind of old fast, for me at least. Time to change it up. "Genie, show me your pussy," I commanded. The "yes master" was delayed as she had to clear the dick out of her mouth before she could speak. She balanced herself on her two feet while her legs were splayed apart in a deep-knee bend, her butt nearly touching the ground. Of course, with her crotchless harem pants this left her hairless mound prominently displayed. She reached between her legs with both hands, found the folds of her sex, and gently pried them apart with her fingers. She held her pussy open, providing me with an unfettered view of where I was soon to be. I could see her clitoris starting to rise out of its protective hood as well. "Do you like me, master?" she asked. Continuing to hold her labia open with her other fingers, she gently touched and teased her own clit with one index finger. "Very nice, genie," I admired. "Would you like to penetrate me, master?" she asked. It felt a little rushed, but gazing at her gaping pussy, of course I wanted to fuck it. "That would be fine," I simply said. She stood and placed her legs next to my thighs as I sat. Then she grasped my penis with one hand, her crotch with the other, and lined Tab B up with Slot A. I sighed slightly as I felt myself being surrounded by her warm wetness. She lowered herself down onto me, then put her hands on my shoulders to steady herself. Once she was balanced, she began to hammer up and down on my like a piston. Her pace was relentless--and quite exquisite. If she hadn't had my dick inside her, it would have been a high-impact aerobic exercise. I wasn't quite sure what to do--she was fucking my dick with her pussy, I didn't need to do anything but sit and enjoy the ride. I was used to fucking the pussy with my dick; I felt somehow underutilized just sitting there and letting her do all the work. But there really wasn't any reason to change, so I just let her impale herself on my dick. She leaned back a little and closed her eyes--I'd imagine it's easier to fuck a stranger that way, but I'd like to think that maybe my big-by-local-standards piece of meat was doing some magic inside of her as well. Since my hands were free, I slipped them under her vest. Pushing the fabric lightly aside so that I could see her bouncing breasts, I grasped them and squeezed them gently. They were really the perfect size for this--any bigger and they'd have jiggled so much as to be a distraction to her, if not downright painful. I was enjoying them so much I forgot to mind my fingers until I could tell from her face that the pleasurable microcurrents were running right through her nipples again. The persona of the genie character she was playing slipped a little as she was inundated with intense sensation. "Oooh..." she moaned. She somehow seemed to push down on me a little harder, only this time it was for her benefit not mine. She balanced herself with one hand while reaching down and furiously rubbing her clitoris with the other. I knew what was about to happen, and I LOVED to watch it. That intense, otherworldly (literally) feeling in her nipples drove her inexorably toward orgasm. Her strokes suddenly shortened up, and then I felt her drive her hips down onto mine, pushing my penis as far into her as she could get it. She slumped forward so that she wouldn't fall over as the spasms of pleasure temporarily stole control of her body. Her pussy even seemed to squeeze my dick rhythmically in the contractions of orgasm. She paused for a moment even after the orgasm passed. Then she seemed to remember the role she was playing...but instead of resuming her pumping as I had expected she reached towards a side table I hadn't even noticed until now. She squeezed some jelly from a tube and began to expertly apply it to her posterior. "What are you doing?" I asked in genuine confusion. "I need to feel you in my ass..." she declared matter-of-factly. "Um..." I thought of saying genie, but it seemed that at the moment that persona was forgotten. "I appreciate the offer, but...well, don't take this the wrong way, but I don't want to tear you apart!" She gave me a look, slightly condescending, as if I'd just said something naively cute. "You won't," she said confidently. My face must have looked unconvinced, because she added. "You really don't know who I am, do you?" "Um...no..." I said embarrassed. Apparently, I was supposed to, and it was expected that everyone did. What the hell else about this party was I the only one that didn't know? "My real name is Heather, but my screen name is Annie the Anal Queen," she said with what seemed to be a little pride. "O....K...." I said, having a pretty good guess at what that meant. "What, you've never seen any of my movies? How do you end up at this party, and don't watch porn?" she asked in amusement. "Anyway, if you HAD seen my movies, you'd know I've stuffed lots of big things up my ass...salamis, baseball bats, you name it. I can shove almost anything back there; it's my specialty. I like it, really. But none of those things were REAL. A DICK this big? That's a CHALLENGE." I shrugged. I had often wondered what it was like to fuck a girl in the ass, but I'd been too afraid I'd rip her apart. This would be the ultimate test--if any human could take me on, Annie the Anal Queen would be probably be the one. "All right. I'm game." "Good," she said with a wry smile. She put her one hand on my knee behind her to steady herself and straddled me again, only now she curled her pelvis up so that I lined up with the further back of her two openings. I felt her push against me, and at first it felt like a solid flesh wall. Even stiff penises are a little flexible, and her pushing just seemed to bend me. But then I felt a strange sensation at my tip as the opening softened, and then just like that I was in. Gamely she started to fuck herself with my dick again, although much more slowly and deliberately than before. It was a new sensation for me--rather than feeling my entire penis be gripped, there was a narrow ring of pressure, then beyond it I felt very little. But that ring squeezed my dick much harder than a pussy could, so it felt very good when she bobbed up and down on me. She wasn't kidding when she called me a "challenge." She was trying to stuff all of me in there, and I just wasn't all going to fit. But her attempts were quite arousing, so I didn't say anything. Here was a real bonus--in the position she was in, I could watch her pussy rising and falling while my dick was plumbing the depths of her ass. It looked lonely, and I almost felt sorry for it. I wished I had two dicks, so I could fill both of her holes and no one would be left out. Don't worry, you pretty little thing, I thought to myself, I'm not done with you yet. I was vaguely aware that some humans were partial to this manner of fornication, and I could see what the attraction might be--if your dick wasn't quite so big. Heather, aka Annie the Anal Queen, had succeeded in the challenge--but I wouldn't call it an improvement over what had preceded it. No matter how greased up, the size of my dick was a major stretch, and simply put while she could fuck me, she couldn't fuck me at a good pace. I know she was trying, but those muscles were just never designed to permit rapid passage of an object that size. And further, while she was succeeding in her challenge she wasn't enjoying it; it was work, not fun. She was masturbating furiously to try to keep aroused and relaxed, but there's only so relaxed you can be when there's a monster pole shoved up your backside, even if it's an invited guest. I considered using my fingers on her clit, but I guessed her sphincter would contract during the inevitable orgasm, and that didn't sound comfortable for at least one of us. So while I was appreciative of this novel and potentially one-of-a-kind experience, it was time for ME to get off. I tilted slightly to one side. She was balanced almost entirely on me, so she tipped over at the slightest movement. I caught her, and gently laid her down on the sofa as she slipped off my dick--kind of. That is, she ended up with on knee on the ground, the other bent and on the sofa. She was kind of laying on the very edge of the couch. It hadn't been my intent, but it appeared to be a perfectly good position to me. I slid down so that I was kneeling right behind her. I just had to shift her hips a little to the left and she was in the perfect position for penetration. I bent over to whisper into her ear while my penis perforated her pussy, "that was great, genie, but now I want to drive." "Yes master," she sighed as she felt her vagina expand to accommodate what her ass could not comfortably accept. She spread her legs as wide as she could, arched her back and pushed her pelvis back towards me, so that when I thrust I drilled as deeply into her belly as possible. And I let her have it too--I was ragingly hard from the buttfucking, and I just needed to pump away for a little to put me over the top. I drilled her full bore, and she eagerly accepted my invasions. Somewhat ironically, now that I was back in her pussy she was able to relax as she had not been able to when trying to unclench her sphincter. She tilted her head to the side and laid it on the sofa gently, waiting to feel the inevitable explosion within her. She was actually very pretty; I gently pushed her hair aside to look at her face, while slamming her from behind like a madman. It looked like she was getting pretty worked up by my churning of her butter, too. My strokes started to shorten as the finish line appeared just ahead. I felt like she deserved a little reward for her above-and-beyond efforts, so I gently pulled back the loose vest and reached for her breast again. Even as I pressed myself deeply and received the advance warning that the orgasmic machinery had been activated, I gently grasped that nipple right between the thumb and index finger. I was only vaguely aware of continuing to hold it because I was now ejaculating deep within her--but she was. When I "came to" from that semi-altered state of orgasm, she was grinding her hips up and down, pressing against my penis, possibly even rubbing her clit against me. I smiled slightly and held on, knowing it would be just seconds now before... "Ungh..." she grunted. She grasped on to the cushion tight as wave after fresh wave of orgasm convulsed up and down her body, still impaled on my cock. I had a feeling that Kelly and Heather might have something to talk about later. --------------------- I went back to the lounging area and returned key 14. It wasn't on the hook for 30 seconds as the next person eagerly waiting took his turn. It was my impression that there was a regular "cast" that staffed these events. I had thought Heather's popularity was due to her costume, but perhaps the real draw was that she was "Annie the Anal Queen." I wove my way between the tables to fetch myself a new drink, almost tripping over Kelly in the process. She was kneeling in front of some guy, swallowing his knob while he sat at a table. I watched as the guy he was sitting with slid off his chair, dropped his pants, slid her panties aside and started plumbing her from behind. Kelly didn't even flinch as the second penis penetrated her. I wondered if there was any chance I'd get invited to one of these parties again. Probably not, assuming that Kelly would soon be learning she was pregnant. I looked around the room. A number of men were now sitting at the round tables again, eating little plates of hors' d'oeuvres and drinking heavily. A lot of these guys were at least fifty; one go might have been enough for them, or if they took a second swing it was quite a while after the first. The younger guys, though, went in and out of doors like a Scooby Dooby chase scene. Eventually there were some keys that ended up hanging on the pegs and not being immediately snatched up again. Not wanting to be greedy, I watched for a while, but no one seemed to be in a hurry to grab them, so I put down my drink and randomly grabbed another. I found a curly-haired brunette dressed like a schoolgirl. I spanked her, made her suck me with a dunce cap on, then fucked her while she was bent over a desk. When I came back from that room, a few of the old guys had left and some of the others were too drunk to fuck. I happened to be near the key board when Key 14 was returned. A younger guy jumped up, apparently having waited for this, but the returner warned him off: "Heather's not on her game tonight," she said. "No?" the guy asked in palpable disappointment. "No...she's totally wiped. Someone must have really fucked the living shit of her earlier, cuz now she's like fucking a limp noodle." "But did she still..." the guy said then stopped, not sure how to delicately phrase his question. "Oh yeah, you can still boof her," was the tactless response, "but you can boof a lot of the other girls too. Just sayin, Heather's not the firecracker she usually is tonight." The guy considered the key for a minute and then decided to take his chances anyway. I waited a few minutes and then took another random key. Inside that room I found a slender Asian girl with long straight hair wearing nothing but slave collar, cuffs and anklets, with the cuffs and anklets chained together. I stuffed my dick into her mouth while she sat in a lotus-like position, then laid her on her back like a beetle, spread her linked arms and legs, and fucked her on the floor. By the time I left that room, more than half the crowd was gone. There were still keys to be had, though, so I took another. Inside I found a young blonde, and like the report on Heather she seemed exhausted. She had been wearing a low-cut blouse and miniskirt, but some previous visitor had pulled the skirt up and ripped the blouse open; she now lay on a sofa, too tired to even bother rearranging herself. I turned to leave her be, but she gestured that I should enter. She sucked me weakly, but was receptive when I saved her the energy by fucking her face instead. That was kind of cool, but as I got excited I started to drive too deep and made her gag. So I let her lay on her side, almost like she was sleeping, while I lay next to her and stuffed my dick between her legs. She could just lay there while I spooned her until I jizzed yet again. Superf***er Vol. 06 There were still a few people left when I got back out, but clearly the party was ending. When I put my key on the hook, the emcee quietly pocketed it; the funhouse was shutting down. I went and found my coat. As I left the big hall, Kelly was standing against the wall, bored. Her tray no longer bore any drinks, and no man desired to thrust his penis down her throat. I headed past her with a big smile. "Thanks for the invitation," I said, "you SURE do know how to throw a party." She smiled weakly. "Please don't make me suck you," she said hoarsely, "my throat is SO sore." "Not to worry," I said debonairly, "I've had my fill, thank you." But surreptitiously I slipped my fingers under her skirt and past her g-string. Her pussy was dry, but got wet in a hurry when I laid my thumb on top of her clitoris and slipped a finger into her snatch. She squirmed at the instant, intense sensations coming from her clit. She was supposed to be standing at her station, but there's only so still you can stand when your loins are on fire. She exhaled deeply as my magic fingers made her cum again. She looked towards me with amazement once the shudders stopped. "How do you DO that???" she demanded. "That's my little secret," I answered perhaps a bit smugly. I retrieved my fingers now glistening with her fragrant juices and sucked the flavor off of them right in front of her. Then I gave a little wave and showed myself out. Superf***er Vol. 07 I teased Crystal's clit with my tongue while she lay on top of me, sucking as much of my dick as she could swallow. Baby Eddie had fallen back asleep after his 6am feeding, leaving Crystal and me a little time to play before I had to move on. Ever since I'd revealed to her that I was from outer space and on a mission to father as many half-human hybrids as possible, seeing Crystal again was a rare luxury. Most women I would screw once and then stay away--there was a good chance she would be pregnant, since my sperm carry hormones that stimulate ovulation. Eventually they'd mysteriously start to get checks from the organization I set up specifically for that purpose, the Starr Child Foundation. But I couldn't let them actually find me, or the whole thing might fall apart. Crystal still looked like a high school cheerleader fantasy come true, even though she was a college graduate and mother. She'd indicated willingness to bear me another, but I wanted Eddie get a little older first; she was burdened enough. My nuts were almost ready to release; normally I'd want to be sure that seed landed in a fertile pussy, but Crystal was the exception. I was being a little cruel, though, withholding what she wanted most until I had mine. When I lay my negatively-charged thumb on one side of her clitoris and my positively-charged fingers on the other, a tiny and intensely pleasurable current flowed between them. If that current flowed right through her clit, well, most women came like a volcano in less than a minute, and Crystal was no exception. But she knew me, and knew that I wouldn't let this morning's recreation end until she had that mega-orgasm she craved. Crystal was highly aroused and wanted to cum, so she worked as hard as she could on sucking me off. My face was covered in her juice, and her pussy was glowing with excitement. Then she pulled out her best trick--instead of sucking hard and fast, she swallowed me as far as she could go and then kept going, trying to push my dick past her mouth and into the tightness of her throat. It usually gave her a sore throat later, but she also knew it usually got me off. I don't know whether it was the tightness or just the appreciation that my partner would go to such lengths just to please me, but it worked yet again. Crystal backed off so that just my tip was in her mouth while I came--she complained that I came so hard it hurt her throat. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation while Crystal collected every drop. When I was done, she arched her back, swallowed and waited--she knew it was her turn. It was tempting to tease her, but she'd done plenty of work and deserved hers. I stuck two fingers into her soaking snatch and rested the thumb right on the clitoris, rubbing slightly. This position sent the currents through both the clitoris and the inside walls of her pussy. She stiffened as the sensation hit, moaning involuntarily. I held on, keeping my thumb on the button while her hips bucked like a bronco. Then with a wail of ecstasy, her body was racked with wave after wave of shudders. ----------- "So why were you in the neighborhood?" Crystal asked over breakfast. She understood that I couldn't tell her in advance if I was in town, lest I be located by process servers bearing paternity suits--she'd hired one herself, once upon a time. Now that she knew the story, she was helping me; trolling Internet dating and sex sites, spreading stories about the mysterious man with the huge dick and serving as liaison to hook me up with women intrigued by the tale. I loved Internet hookups because they took so much less time and effort than the alternative, prowling singles bars across the country. As a result, I paid her a bounty for every hookup, roughly the amount I usually had to spend to spend to get a girl in bed. "Single swingers dot com had a Vegas weekend," I answered, "bagged three girls in 24 hours, so..." I handed her $1200 in cash. She worked on the strip--60% time, the minimum she could work and still get health insurance; she made a lot more money hooking me up than waitressing, but she needed the insurance for Eddie. She also knew that I made most of that money by beating the casinos (my infrared vision giving me a decided advantage at blackjack) so a lot of time I was in town just to fill up the wallet. "Ooh, good one," she smiled, "now I can buy Eddie the dresser I wanted for Eddie's room." "I hope you spend some on yourself, too," I smiled. "Maybe...there's this pair of shoes I was looking at...high heels...black straps..." she teased, reaching under the table to touch my dick. She knew it turned me on when she wore sexy shoes, almost as much as when she put on the cheerleader uniform...but I'm getting sidetracked. This story isn't about Crystal, it's about Amy--the director of the Foundation and a very special person to me. Crystal dropped me off at the airport on the way to work as always (I only dropped in on my last night in town). I checked my email as I waited for my flight, and found a red-flagged note from Amy. She wouldn't have needed to, I always open hers up right away. I guess that sort of tipped me off that something was wrong before I even read it: Dear Mr. Starr: I need to speak to you at once. Some things have come up and I do not know that I can continue to serve as Foundation director. Amy I knew right away this was serious; she knew to only call me Bill, not Mr. Starr. I wondered if that meant that whatever had come up had something to do with me. Amy had been a great director, organized and thorough. And she was also an aspiring writer for whom the relatively short hours needed to do the job were invaluable; she must have something really going down if she was considering walking away from it. She was also a gorgeous redhead that I found myself thinking about and dreaming about frequently when I was alone. Most of my sexual encounters kind of blurred together in my mind, but the one night I had shared with Amy was clearly etched in my memory. I longed to be able to see Amy again like I did Crystal, but it just wasn't possible. No one knew about Crystal, I was fairly safe dropping in on her. The Foundation was my one direct link to my children; I didn't feel like I could afford to be seen anywhere in New York City anymore. I wrote back: Dear Amy: I hope everything is all right. I won't be in New York, but tomorrow I will be near enough that I can send a car to fetch you, and we can go somewhere and talk? Would that be acceptable? Bill She must have been actively watching for a reply, because in ten minutes I had an answer. I suppose, although I have a hard time believing your schedule is so busy that you can't ever make an appearance at the office... Something had gotten under her skin. If it had something to do with me, there was pretty much only one thing it could be. ---------------- "Bill, I have to know what's really going on--because if it's what I think it is, I don't want any part of it." We were walking along the boardwalk in Atlantic City. I had wanted to take her to dinner, but she had firmly declined and just wanted to do our business. It was off-season and it was late, so the stores were closed and this part of the boardwalk mostly deserted. Amy was dressed for autumn in a green business suit cut above the knee, high black boots, and black tights covering the few inches of leg in-between. "I told you what the mission of the foundation is..." "Yes, I know what you TOLD me the mission of the foundation is, Bill," she interrupted testily. "But I'm NOT stupid. Every week, you add two or three names to the list. I send them the letter. Most of the time, I get a phone call. Did Bill So-and-so have something to do with this? No, I say. Did Bill Whatsisname have something to do with this? No. Some don't even know a last name; they just ask if a man named Bill had something to do with this, and sometimes they describe him. They describe YOU. No, I tell them. Why do you ask, I ask them. The answer is always the same: paternity." "And from this information your conclusion is?" "That this foundation is a front. You told me once that sometimes you lived the life of the playboy--I'm starting to get a different picture. I'm thinking you ALWAYS live the life of the playboy, and this foundation is a cheap ploy for you to father as many children as you like and not feel guilty about it. That's what I think." I said nothing. My failure to deny was tantamount to confession. "I thought so. Here is my letter of resignation..." she seethed, reaching into her purse. "Wait," I said, touching her arm and stopping walking. "What for!?!" she demanded. "Amy, you've got a brilliant mind, which is why I wanted you for this job. You have the data and you've drawn sound conclusions from it. I'm not denying those conclusions--but I am going to tell you that you've got the wrong idea, because you don't have the most important pieces of data at your disposal." "And what's THAT supposed to mean?" she snapped. It felt like deja vu, as I thought back to the day I had run into Crystal on a Las Vegas sidewalk and I had revealed to her my extraterrestrial nature. For a hundred years I had kept it secret, and in a moment of despair let it out--but that worked out much better than I could have ever expected in the end. Maybe it was just my own wishful thinking, but I kept thinking there was, or at least could be, something special between me Amy and me. But now she was pissed off and two seconds from storming out of my life altogether. My only chance was to come clean--I had to reveal my alien origins yet again. So without warning I jumped--twenty feet straight up in the air, where I caught and hung from a light pole. "What the...Bill?" She glared up at me, shielding her eyes, unable to believe that she had just seen. "Look out below!" I called as I let go of the light pole and started plummeting downward. "Bill!" she cried in alarm. But instead of accelerating until hitting the ground with a splat, I aligned my magnetodes in mid-air so that I was repelled by the earth's magnetic field. Crossing my arms and legs and striking a nonchalant pose, as if leaning against a wall, I drifted down. I slowed as I neared the surface, rather than accelerated, coming to rest softly on my feet. Her mouth was wide open, speechless. Aligning my magnetodes again, I drifted upward until I was hovering about ten feet off the ground, then drifted downward again. "What the hell..." she spat, not sure if she should be angry or frightened. I wanted to lift something heavy too, but saw nothing nearby that wasn't bolted down. So instead I bend down low and stuck my middle finger under her boot, in the opening where the heel met the sole. Slowly, I started lifting her off the ground at full arm's length. "Bill..." she cried in fright as she felt her feet leave the floor. But I concentrated, and was able to balance her on my one finger, lifting her. She stood perfectly still, petrified as I lifted her about three feet up and then gently set her back down. By then, she was really confused as to how to respond. "My name isn't really Bill," I started explaining as I stood up, "but my name cannot be pronounced in English or any other language on Earth," which I demonstrated by then saying it. "I was born on a planet 300 light-years away. I have lived on Earth since your 1908, arriving through a wormhole in space-time that followed the Tunguska impact. My mission was to investigate reports of another sentient species whose evolution was remarkably similar to our own. I finished my research fifty earth-years ago and have been waiting for another cosmic impact large enough to create a wormhole and let me go home." I pulled out my Interplanetary Motion Simulator. "This is an IMS. It tracks movement of objects in the universe and allows you to predict where collisions will occur. This little device is what makes deep-space travel possible. This is earth..." I moved items about on the screen; no point in trying to explain, she couldn't understand any of the symbols anyway. It thought for a moment, then a box popped up with an estimated date and time of the next collision. "Here it is. A little less than a year and half in my time, or right about 19 Earth years. Now, let's look at the details of the object..." I opened the box with a finger and another information box about the object popped up. First came up details on speed, mass and trajectory--and then a box with red lettering popped up, flashing and making the device beep with an alarm. She was watching closely, astounded but not so much as to not be able to process what I was doing. I admired her intelligence and curiosity triumphing over being totally freaked out. "On Earth, red lettering and beeping sounds usually means something bad," she noted hesitantly. "A universal throughout the known universe," I smiled. So far she was really handling this well. "It does indeed mean something bad. Very bad. The object that will collide with Earth is an antimatter comet. Do you know what happens when antimatter collides with matter?" She shook her head. "Of course you don't, because no one on this planet has even seen antimatter before. When antimatter collides with matter, they annihilate each other--cancel out each other's existence, basically. But in physics, matter doesn't just appear or disappear. Are you familiar with the equation E=MC2?" She nodded. "That's what happens--the matter and antimatter that are destroyed are converted into a burst of pure energy the likes of which you've never seen. Given the mass of this comet, I predict that the explosion alone will atomize every planet from Mercury and Jupiter, depending on where they are in their orbit I suppose. And frequently what happens when there's a huge energy release this close to a star, it triggers a supernova, which would of course wipe out the rest. Not that we'll ever know, though, because when the comet hits we'll all be vaporized in an instant." I snapped my fingers for emphasis. She looked up from the device and was searching my face. Did she trust me? Was I feeding her a line? Was she delusional? Was I delusional? It certainly never entered her mind that her employer and one-time lover came from outer space. She was looking for cues from me to help makes sense of it all. My serious expression seemed to convince her I was being straight with her. "The only way to avoid obliteration is to divert this comet. Your scientists have talked a little about Earth impact scenarios, and have talked about maybe using nuclear weapons to redirect an object on collision course. That kind of approach might work if this wasn't made of antimatter. But a nuclear explosion will still involve matter. That matter will collide with the comet and be converted to energy. But then, the comet will pass through the energy cloud, and the event horizon will recapture that energy and turn it back into antimatter. So instead of diverting the comet..." "It will only make it bigger," she finished. Wow...I'm not easily impressed, but to keep her head so well when I was dropping a bombshell of unbelievable magnitude on her... "So the only way to avoid this collision is through a pure force," I explained. "If we're lucky, it will have a strong magnetic polarity. If not, we'll probably have to rely on gravitational forces. But I can't do it alone, and humans--you don't have any control over your magnetic properties. That's why you can't do this..." and I hovered slightly again, then quickly came back down. "And because there aren't any other collisions between then and now, I couldn't get help from my own planet if I wanted to. Sure I could send an SOS, but it wouldn't arrive until 300 years after we were all dead. So rather than sit here and just wait to die, I decided to test just how similar our species really are--I decided to try to cross-breeding with you. My hope was that if we could mate, some of the offspring might inherit some of my abilities and together maybe we COULD save the Earth. If not... well, we're all doomed anyway." I paused to let that all sink in. Her eyes were looking at me, but really they weren't; she was struggling to come to terms with an overwhelming amount of new and information about a reality that by any terrestrial standard was absolutely insane. "So yes, your deductions are correct Mr. Holmes," I said in a softer tone, "those are all my children that the foundation is supporting. And maybe greatness isn't the right word, but the foundation is indeed providing support children with specific genetic characteristics. My target has been for about 200 children with magnetic control abilities, which genetics tells me means I need to father at least 400 children--and they will need to be at least in their mid-teens by the time the comet gets in range. That's a lot of children to support, which is why I can't let myself be found and slapped with a paternity suit. As you have no doubt deduced, that's the whole reason I set up the foundation." I was silent for a moment decided whether to risk adding what I was feeling. I had decided I was going to come clean; I may as well come clean on everything. "That's the reason why I've not allowed myself to come back to New York and visit the office. I don't know how many nights I've laid awake in bed, some stranger snoozing next to me, wondering what you were doing, remembering the time we spent together, wishing I could see you again. I can't levitate or lift you with one finger to prove that like I can prove that I'm not human, but it's the honest truth." She turned her head and looked away; she had come here angry and didn't want to believe me, but she had seen me do things that should have been impossible with her own eyes. "So now you know the rest of the story. Yes, there's been a secret behind the Foundation. Now you know everything; there's nothing left to hide. I guess it's up to you now. If you want to stay with the Foundation, the job is yours as long as you want it. If you still want to resign, I'd understand." In spite of myself, I leaned forward and kissed her red hair gently. Then I turned and headed back the way we had come, leaving her to her own decision. ------------- I ate by myself in the back of a 24-hour diner. The whole time I wondered what Amy would do. I didn't have to worry too much about her turning me in, they'd surely think she was a loony if she relayed the story that her boss was an alien from outer space. I really could understand why she might want to quit the Foundation, although I really hoped she wouldn't. Usually I'm pretty good at guessing what humans are going to do, but Amy--she was too smart to predict accurately. Either that, or my feelings about her got in the way. After dinner I hit the casino to make some more money. I was very quiet the whole time I was at the tables. I was on a roll actually, winning without even having to use my infra-red vision. It seemed like I was the only one at the table that couldn't get excited about my hot streak, though, because my mind was elsewhere. When I cashed in, I asked where was the best place to find a little action tonight. He sent me to the casino's dance club--predictable, but probably accurately since this casino was essentially the only joint in A.C. considered "hip." I paid the cover charge and sat in a booth in the back. I glanced at my watch; damn, it was only 10:00, way earlier than I usually headed out. Time flies when you're having fun, and this was the exact opposite. Sure, there were some nice-looking girls in the place--New York City girls, I guessed. I watched a few of them for a while, but I couldn't get myself motivated to get up and start chatting to any of them. Eventually I'd have to...but man, seduction was tiring work! Superf***er Vol. 07 I was semi-lost in space, so I didn't even notice at first a girl walk in the joint, look around, and head for my table. Suddenly I heard a voice say "Hey...buy a girl a drink?" I looked up and did a double-take--it was Amy, but wow, did she look different than a few hours ago. She was wearing pencil-thin jeans, tight in the seat, straight-leg, over a pair of high-heeled mules. With it she wore a shiny halter top that exposed most of her back as well as an inch or so of toned belly above the waist of her jeans. She had put her hair back and was wearing more makeup. In other words, she was fucking HOT. "Amy, I... yes, please sit down." I slid over, and she gracefully sat down next to me. I quickly ordered her a drink, then stammered "I wasn't expecting to find you here..." "I WAS expecting to find YOU here, though," she said cooly and in-control. After a moment she added "after you left I got in a cab and started heading back to the city. I had a lot to think about; we were well out on the turnpike when I made my decision and told the driver to turn around and take me back. He must have thought I was nuts." "I am happy to see you," I said, still taken aback, "but how did you FIND me?" "It really wasn't that hard. I asked myself: if I was Bill, where would I go to find a partner for the evening? To the most happening club in town, I guessed, and when I asked people what that was everyone pointed me here. But I couldn't come dressed like I was, so I had to quickly hit the shops before they closed and buy something more appropriate. Do you like it?" She adjusted her new clothes for emphasis. "Amy, you look sensational," I replied earnestly. "And again, your penchant for detective work scares me. But why did you want to find me?" "Because...I want to do my part to help the cause," she replied evenly. "Oh, that's such a relief," I sighed, "you've done such a good job running the Foundation, I'd have never found someone as efficient as you..." "Well, that, too," she interjected, "but I want to help the cause." "OK..." I said uncertainly, not sure what she was driving at. "How else do you want to help the cause..." "Are you a little slow today?" she teased, "do I need to spell it out for you?" As she said the word "spell," I felt a hand gently touching my lap. Oh, THAT'S what she meant. "Whoa, wait a minute..." I stammered. "What's the matter—you don't like volunteers? It's only OK to knock up an unsuspecting girl? If a girl comes up and asks for it, you don't know how to respond?" Amy...she was one of a kind. "Touche," I surrendered. "I guess it is a lot easier to get a girl pregnant if I don't know what future plans of hers are going to be interrupted, whereas with you I do. You, my dear, have a way of seeing right though me." "It seems someone has to keep you in line," she answered slyly. "But if that's what you're thinking, there's something else you should know," I countered. "There's another woman." "Oh?" she replied, her control of this conversation suddenly slipping a bit. "You may have noticed her name on the Foundation rolls—Crystal, from Las Vegas," I explained. "Her son Eddie was my second son. A few months ago I ran into her by mistake in a moment of despair, and revealed my identity to her—something I was planning on never doing with anyone. Since then, she's been helping hook me up. She gets involved in various Internet groups, tells people about me, and sends them my way if they seem interested. It's a lot less effort for me—I don't expect any sympathy, but it's a real drain to go out and pick up someone new every night. I pay her a bounty for every successful hookup—basically the amount of money I saved by not having to go out and try to impress someone." "I see...and do you...see her often?" "I do—every time I'm in Vegas, I stop by her place on my last night in town. I always stop by unannounced, though, just to be on the safe side. I'm just telling you this because I thought maybe we could work out a similar kind of arrangement, if that's something that would interest you." "Why would you think that would interest me?" "I dunno...you said once you thought there might be some destiny involved in our meeting," I answered. Now I was the one feeling in control. "I'll tell you this—I may like Crystal, but there's no one else on this planet like you. No, I'm not giving you my pickup lines, so don't make that face; I mean it. Truth is, I've thought about you almost constantly as I've wandered around the globe. There's just something... different about you. You're probably the smartest human I've met, for one thing. You figure out things that I would never expect someone to figure out. But there's more than that... I just feel... some kind of connection to you I haven't felt with anyone else since I arrived here. A dozen times I've wanted to go back to New York—but I was expecting just the kind of phone calls you've been getting, so I've always stayed away because it was too dangerous. "Touche," she sighed, "you've got me now. Truth is, I kept wishing you'd come back, because I'd felt something special with you, and I wanted to know if it was just a short-term thing or what. This job has been GREAT. I live comfortably, I've gotten some works accepted..." "That's great!" I interjected. "Thanks," she replied humbly, "but something has been missing—something important. I've been all alone. I'm like anyone else I guess—I want a partner and eventually a family. I kept hoping it might be you—so when I figured out that all those kids the Foundation supports were yours, I freaked out. I'm sorry I came on so strong—it's just that for me, there was a lot more at stake than just whether the Foundation was really about what I thought it was about." "That hasn't really changed," I said softly. "I said I'd love to spend time with you—I didn't say it was a realistic option..." "No, I understand now," she interjected, "you have to do what you have to do. I may not see you again after today. But what you're doing—it's for the good of us all, right? And maybe I won't have a partner, but I can skip that step and go right to having a family. At least that way, I won't be lonely. And every time I look at the baby, I'll think of you." "If this is really what you want to do," I answered earnestly, "I guarantee that you'll see me again. Maybe not as often as you or I would like, but I'll make time to swing by and see you. Or maybe, if I'm not in New York but not too far away, I could send for you, and bring you out to meet me? Maybe have a few nice long weekends together? Cape Cod, Delaware Shore..." "I'd like that," she answered, vulnerability showing. Our lips met, and soon out tongues intertwined. "As long as we're in full disclosure mode," I said when we paused for air, "I should tell you one of the things I love about you is your beautiful red hair." I stroked her hair gently as I spoke. "There's no such thing as red hair where I come from. You'd be beautiful no matter what color it was, but that fact that it's red is just... extra special to me..." She smiled wryly. "Real, too. Did you know half of the redheads you see on the street come from a bottle?" "Really? I mean, I know humans like to change the color of their hair, but that many reds are fake? And there's not that many to begin with—red hair must be very rare, then." "Not as rare as finding a lover from outer space," she retorted, her confidence returning. "Come on...the least you can do is dance with a girl before you take her to bed." She reached for my hand and pulled us out onto the dance floor. I'd been so focused on Amy I hadn't even noticed the music. The booth area must have had good audio shielding, because now that I was standing the floor throbbed in time to the music. Amy pulled us onto the floor and started to dance. She was dynamite at a lot of things, but dancing was not one of them. I mean she tried, but she wasn't fluid nor was she particularly good at keeping time to the music. But in her halter top and tight slim jeans, she was hotter than a spewing volcano anyway. I came up to her and put my arms around her butt. "That kind of dancing is OK, but I like this kind of dancing better." She didn't complain; she put her arms around my neck and we slowly swayed, moving to a beat only we could hear, mouths interlocked inseparably. Her jeans fit her like second skin; my hands gently grasped her soft yet firm cheeks. She broke off the kiss and locked eyes with me as I fondled her ass right there on the floor. Her eyes were nervous yet calm at the same time; she was entering a brave new world, but she was choosing to do so on her terms and was at peace with the concept. I have no idea how long we danced; I just savored holding her close, kissing her. A gang war could have broken out behind my back and I would never have known. All I know is at some point Amy put her finger on my chin with a twinkle in her eye. "C'mon," she said, "take me upstairs before your grabbing my ass gets us both arrested." I turned and made a little hook with my arm, and she put her arm though it. I led her out of the club, to the elevators and straight up to the penthouse. I opened the door and entered the living room of the suite. "Wow," she said, "I've never seen a room like this!" "Gambler's suite," I explained, "when you play $100,000 a day, you get lots of comps." "This is as big as a house," she marveled. "Pretty much," I agreed, "two, sometimes three bedrooms, living room, kitchen, two bathrooms--probably 2000 square feet." "You always live like this?" she wondered. "NO...," I protested. "A room like this would cost at least five grand if I was paying for it. When I stay at a casino, I live like a king because they comp me. The rest of the time, not so much. I do try to stay in suite hotels, seeing as I'm usually bringing home a guest..." "And tonight it's my turn," she cooed. She wrapped her arms around my neck and I grasped her bare waist as out tongues intertwined. We kissed for so long I became self-conscious of the fact that we were still standing just inside the door. She let out a little "eep" as I suddenly lifted her off the floor and carried her over to the sofa. I sat down, still holding her, so she ended up sitting sideways in my lap. Her arms remained around my neck, and our mouths met again. I know it must sound hard to believe, and I guess it's hard to explain, but although it had been months since we'd seen each other, it was like we'd never been apart. All the intensity, all the attraction that I had felt when we first met had returned, unabated, now that we were seeing each other again. Sitting in my lap in her tight jeans, her arms softly wrapped around me--my dick got hard like iron. My hands were touching her soft, bare back; I let them wander, massaging, touching. I found my way to her bare shoulders, stroking them. I ran my hand partway down her arm, then back and gently touched her neck. My fingers found the edge of her halter top, and I let them trace along the v-shape neckline. I felt the soft skin between her breasts; I traced back and forth, up one side of the neckline and down the other. I never got tired of touching Amy. Amy unclasped me and I felt her lay one hand gently on mine. I stopped my tracing. Amy gently pulled my hand sideways, under the fabric and towards her breast. Accepting the invitation, she let go as I slipped my hand under and caressed her breast. She tugged on that side of her halter so that the breast popped free, then put clasped her hands about my neck again. My fingers stroked the soft, tender skin, punctuated by firm, erect nipples. I felt her give a little moan-sigh and lay her head on my shoulder; my fingers must have been close enough to my thumbs to generate those pleasurable micro-currents. I slid my hand across her chest and pulled back the fabric on the breast closer to me like a curtain. Sliding my hand back across I caressed her breast some more, but at the same time I bent forward and down, reaching for the nearer nipple with my tongue. Amy adjusted her position slightly and... umm, delicious. Stoking her left breast, I sucked gently, lovingly on the nearer one. I ran my tongue all around it, tasting it, teasing it. Amy made the sound again. Amy dropped her nearer arm and tried to find my penis, but discovered she was sitting on it. So she twisted slightly and drew her leg in, so that instead of sitting on my lap she was kneeling over it, straddling me. She giggled, though, as I refused to let that luscious nipple out of my mouth; my head followed her breast as she moved to this new position. Once she was situated, she pulled her breast out of my mouth like pulling off a suction cup. "You're silly," she scolded softly, descending upon me and kissing me. "You're wonderful," I replied when I could breathe again. She focused on loosening my pants, and so didn't object when my mouth reacquired her nipple. I noticed that her hips started to move back and forth; other things were stirring, too. She undid my belt and zipper, but my dick was still trapped in the leg of my pants. She had to lift herself slightly and tugged. When I lifted my seat slightly, my pants slipped down until finally my erection could spring free. Her mouth descended on mine again, and this time I just let our mouths remain intertwined. Her red hair cascaded down around me, her hands gently but firmly grasped my erection and stoked me softly. Even her hands just felt right; I had no doubt that had we stayed like that, I would have cum in her grasp. "I supposed I should put this in my mouth now," she whispered, meaning to tease me with anticipation. Instead, I responded "Actually, I'd rather do it the other way around." I pushed her over so that she was in the corner of the sofa, and went to work on her pencil-thin jeans. I released the buttons and pulled them off; they came off pretty easy for jeans that were so fitting. I supposed that's because her legs were so slender; I'd seen a few, um, meatier girls in equally tight jeans in my day, and, well, they tended to, um, snag on the wearer. Amy's slid right off. I kissed her delicate ankles, noting the neat red polish job on her toenails. Then I kissed my way up her leg towards her crotch. She was wearing a green satiny thong, with her pubes neatly trimmed so as not to show from underneath. I worked my way up the increasingly dense freckles on her inner thigh; when I got to her panties, I gently pulled them to the side, revealing a neat thatch of dark red hair over her pussy. It looked for a moment almost like an arrow pointing to the treasure, but I didn't stop to look because my tongue was already working its way between her thighs. I rested my nose against the little thatch, musky odors rising up from beneath. I pressed my tongue against her crotch; I had no trouble locating the smooth, damp folds of her cleft. I pushing downwards, they parted slightly. I ran my tongue up and down the tender valley. In no time the clitoris rose up; I continued to lick the valley, but spent extra time pressing my tongue against the tiny nubbin, tracing circles around it, then darting down the valley and back again. Amy responded by grinding her hips, pushing back against me, holding my head with one hand. I could hear her breath growing shallow. "Bill..." she breathed, "let's go to the bedroom..." It felt like she was gasping it out while she still could. I backed away reluctantly; Amy rolled over onto her feet. I stood slowly, and Amy grasped my hand. She led me into the bedroom, then she had me lay on the bed. "Amy, I still want to..." "All in good time," she interrupted. She took off my shoes and my pants, then she moved to the side of the bed and straddled me, facing my feet. She let herself down slowly while I reached up with my tongue. When she felt my tongue on her sex again, she slowly collapsed forward. Her puss was planted firmly on my face, where I eagerly slurped it. Her face was now over my crotch; I felt a breath of air as she freed my penis from my shorts. I couldn't help but sigh as I felt her take my penis into her warm mouth. She sucked me gently; really, only a couple of inches ever went into her mouth. But somehow, the way she sucked...I guess maybe the only way I could describe it is that she was loving my cock, as opposed to just sucking it. She wouldn't have needed to do anything, though, because I loved to taste her. Her sex practically glowed pink in contrast to her fair skin, and I couldn't help but touch it with my eager tongue. I like to make my partners cum, and it usually only takes a few minutes of those micro-currents if they are strategically placed. That gives me a lot of control over timing; seldom does a girl have an orgasm when I don't expect it. That's why it was such a surprise when Amy straightened up, panting. She pushed down on my face, while I eagerly licked the tender pinkness. Next thing I know, she's grabbing onto the headboard for balance while her whole body spasmed with orgasm. I guess I was so enamored of tasting her snatch, I'd licked her to climax without even realizing it--no fingers needed. Amy whipped around, framing my face with her hands, kissing me. She didn't even seem to notice that my face was marinated in her juices. "Please make love to me," she whispered, then kissed me again. I could have let her sit on my face all night, but she was ready to move on to the next phase. I moved to the side so she could lay in the middle of the bed. She lay there, arms by her side, legs bent and slightly apart, while I moved into position. There was something, I dunno, maybe meek about the way she lay there waiting for me--she knew what was coming and what it would mean, and she was choosing to do it anyway. Kneeling between her thighs, I prepared to enter her inner sanctum. I touched her pussy, pressing on her clit with my thumb and circling gently. Again I was distracted by my loved of touching her until she laid a hand gently on my arm--she wanted me to commence intercourse. That wouldn't be a problem... her sex was glistening from excitement. It was just... so many times I had daydreamed about being with Amy again, sometimes while in the act of "doing my duty" with another woman, I wasn't in any hurry for it to be over. Nevertheless it's impolite to turn down an invitation, so I pointed my penis at the doorway and pressed gently forward. I slipped easily past outer barrier and into her vagina. I retreated and pressed forward again, pressing a little deeper this time. By the third or fourth stroke I was completely inside her belly. She sighed as I penetrated her fully; my penis filled her completely, pressing out against the sides and touching the very top of the receptive canal. Very slowly I stroked my penis in and out, our genitals pressing against each other, providing exquisite pleasure to both of us. Amy curled her legs up behind me, a natural response to make it easier to penetrate--but I could go no further than already I was. I slipped in and out slowly, almost gingerly, wanting to savor every sensation of her very special pussy. She wrapped her arms around my and drew me close to kiss me, which I happily did--but maintained the slow grinding motion into her depths and back out again. She stopped kissing and looked up at me; she wore a look of anxiety, almost fear. I didn't want to see darling Amy unhappy. I stopped; "What's wrong Amy?" I asked with concern. "Don't stop," she said nervously, punctuating her words by pressing against my butt so as to get the drilling motion started again. I did, but persisted. "You look so...afraid..." I said with concern. "No, it's... well, maybe it is. Having a child is a big commitment--three hours ago it wasn't on my radar screen, and now suddenly it's imminent..." Superf***er Vol. 07 I kissed her nose gently, still stroking slowly. "Darling Amy. Don't worry... I may not be able to stay in town for long, but if ever you need me, just call and I'll come running..." She gave a wan smile; perhaps she didn't believe me, given how it had been up until now, but I meant it, at least within the limits of my task. Still, it felt maybe a little reassuring; she kissed my arm (which was right by her head), closed her eyes, turned her head slightly away. She seemed to be trying to focus on the pleasurable sensations of intercourse instead of her worries about the consequences she was signing on for. As for me, well, part of me wanted to keep up the slow-and-sensual fucking, but suddenly a part of me no longer could. She was just so beautiful lying there, partial profile, amazing red hair gently and naturally flowing about her head. Her nose was delicate, her eyebrows fine copper. And somewhere out of sight but definitely not out of mind, my dick was buried deep inside of her. Too aroused to do otherwise, I picked up the pace, fucking faster and harder. I think it helped; my escalation created a corresponding increase in the intensity of her sensations as well, and they felt good. "Oooh," she gasped, laying flat again, eyes still closed. The pleasures of intercourse had driven the concerns temporarily from her mind. I felt her pull her legs up even further, curling her pelvis slightly, providing my penetrating penis an even more direct angle of attack. Hand in glove, our sexes grasped each other, stroked each other, excited each other. My thrusts grew more intense, almost violent, and her receptive organ adapted easily. Animalistically, I grasped out to my sides blindly, seeking her slender calves. Finding them, I guided them up onto my shoulders. This drew her pelvis up, so now as I resumed thrusting I was pressing almost straight down into her. She sucked in air for a second, perhaps at first the intensity of my thrusting battering her cervix may have been uncomfortable. But just as quickly her vagina adjusted, and the sucking sound was replaced by a moan. I was drilling her hard and fast, and we both were in ecstasy. I turned my head, still pounding like some kind of ape-man, and gently kissed her calf. With her big toes right by my ears, I had fine, up-close look at her leg. The skin was so pale it seemed to delicate, yet she was withstanding--and enjoying--penetrations so intense as to be almost brutal. I was so close I could see a few fine freckles--something else that was unknown in my own species. I turned to look back at Amy. Her head was thrown back, eyes open but not focused on anything, mouth open slightly as well. She was so beautiful, for a moment I just felt so fortunate to be fucking the shit out of such a gorgeous creature. My eyes were drawn downward by the motion of her breasts; Amy (and the poor bed springs) absorbed my thrusts, but her lovely breasts recoiled like waves against a rock with every penetration. The pink nipples were pointing straight up, looking almost like tasty gumdrops. Involuntarily I licked my lips at the thought; I imagined suckling one of them again, and started to try to bend forward to take one into my mouth. I never made it. Amy closed her eyes as she felt my erection turn rock solid, knowing I was about to cum. She laid back and focused on the sensations of being on the receiving end of my orgasm, her body laid open to me. She wasn't merely accepting my penis for pleasure; she was accepting my sperm for a child, and she was savoring what was likely to be a life-changing moment. As was my preference, I held tight at the point of maximum penetration while ejaculating. The orgasm was intense beyond comprehension. What a difference it made to have such an emotional bond with my partner--I'd had sex for four, maybe five hundred consecutive days at that point, but it was almost like something completely different than this. Years ago, there used to be ice tea ads that featured people falling backwards into swimming pools to symbolize the cool refreshingness of the product. If you took that idea, but replaced coolness with sheer orgasmic pleasure, it only begins to describe how wonderful that moment felt. When it was over, I collapsed on top of her, kissing her ardently. ----------------- "So do you think I'll get pregnant?" she wondered wistfully some time later. I had my arm around her and she was lying on my chest, absently playing with the hairs there. "More than likely...my sperm carries with it hormones that stimulate ovulation. For us, sex almost always leads to conception unless some sort of barrier is used." "Really?" she mused. "Wow. So do people have sex a lot less often where you come from?" I kissed her forehead. "Indeed--and again, you insightfully sense the repercussions immediately. Sex is a big commitment, so generally it only happens when you're trying to conceive. Human female receptiveness seems to an adaptation to the menstrual cycle and the uncertainty as to when you are fertile. Our females don't menstruate, so they're not as receptive. That's the reason for some of our other adaptations--if you get too forward with a woman on my planet, she'll fuck you up!" Amy giggled adorably. "So how does it affect men, that women aren't receptive?" "Well..." I considered. A great question I'd not specifically considered before. "I can't say if it makes men more driven to procreate or not, because I don't know what it feels like to be a human male. It means that sex usually happens in the context of our equivalent to marriage--but, since marriage doesn't have any religious overtones in our society, they don't tend to last. 90% of marriages end within five years--but then again five of our years is like 60 of yours, so maybe that's time enough..." "Five of your years is like 60 of ours? How long do you live?" "Forty or fifty years--but that's like 500 earth years." "Wow." "Can you imagine being with the same partner for 500 years and never having sex? Neither can we. What you tend to see is serial pairings; children are fully mature by about age 4, so you see one couple have kids, break up, and then re-pair with another partner later. Since we don't have menstruation, we don't have menopause--women can conceive until the day they die." "Interesting," she replied. "It also makes for a THRIVING sex industry. Since most women won't have sex with you, men will pay quite a bit for a woman that will. There are a lot fewer prostitutes than demand for them, since most of them undergo sterilization first. As a result, they are often out of the price range of the average man, and are primarily a luxury for the rich. But pornography is ubiquitous--every male has a collection, and makes no bones about it. In fact women often encourage it, as it helps get us off their backs. "Don't you have rampant STDs?" she asked with some concern. "They don't exist," I replied calmly. "Maybe they never evolved; since sex is so infrequent it's not a good means of transmission if you're a germ. But I also suspect that somehow, we're immune to them." "I suppose I should have asked about that sooner," she chided herself. "What's wrong with me? I knew you had sex with hundreds of women, and never asked if you had an STD!?!?!?!" "Don't worry, all signs are that I'm clean. I'm immune to some other earth diseases too, so I've concluded I can't catch STDs and run with it. I hope I'm right--can you imagine the shame of being the first member of your species to get VD?" She giggled again. This time she kissed me. "You know, even though I know, I still have a hard time believing that you're really from outer space." "Does it frighten you?" "A little late now," she smiled. "Look into my eyes," I commanded. "What...why?" she asked, but she did. "Just keep looking..." I answered softly. After a few minutes, I could tell that the kaleidoscopic illusion had set in. As she watched the colors of my eyes dance and change, she drifted off to sleep. -------------- Next morning we made love again. It was completely unnecessary from the perspective of procreation, but that's also not why we did it. We had sex as an expression of intimacy between two beings, even if they were born hundreds of light-years apart. In fact we lingered in bed so long we had to rush to get out before check-out time. I took my dearest Amy to lunch, then sent her back to the city in a cab before heading to the airport myself. From that day forward, Amy became my soulmate. In the weeks that followed, I bought a brownstone on the upper west side, moved Amy into it, and moved the foundation office as well so she could work out of her house--that made things a lot easier once the baby came. I was flattered that she wanted to name him William after me, even though that was never my name. From day one, though, he was just known as "little Billy." He was the first of my children where I was present for the delivery, as indeed I would be for all of them. I eventually moved into the brownstone myself; when it became clear that any children still being born wouldn't be old enough to help when the comet arrived, I retired from Phase I. I lived with Amy and the children, trying my best to be a normal dad, waiting for the day when the comet would come and it would come time to launch Phase II. Superf***er Vol. 08 SFer #8: Armageddon part 1 It was fitting that the press release came out on Friday the 13th. Three groups of astronomers had confirmed the presence of a growing, unexplained shadow partially obscuring the view of Neptune. At last, the antimatter comet whose pending collision with Earth would obliterate most of your solar system had shown itself to terrestrial observers. I had known this day would come for twenty years, of course, ever since that fateful day when my Interplanetary Motion Simulator first predicted this collision. On that very day I began a quest to try to save your planet by cross-breeding with human females, trying to create an army of hybrids that might inherit some of the special abilities of my species that could perhaps be used to avert the impending collision. Sixteen years ago I retired from my relentless inseminate-one-human-a-day regime, as any further offspring would be too young to be of any value to the effort to save earth. I had gone more or less into hiding, taking up residence with Amy, a human that I think I can truly say I had grown to love as well as the director of the foundation I created to provide financial support to the mostly unwed mothers of my 500 or so children. We lived as if we were married, and I became essentially a stay-at-home dad. "Little Billy" was still a toddler when daddy came home to stay, but in short order he was joined by "the twins" Genny (short for Genevieve) and Quinn--not really twins, but the girls were less than a year apart in age and looked so similar, everyone thought they were. The most obvious difference was that while Genny inherited her mother's flame-red hair, Quinn's was a soft strawberry blonde. My excess fertility (a function of ovulation-stimulating hormones present in my semen) was a big problem, and as I feared when I really got excited my extra-sized extraterrestrial dick would pop a condom like a balloon. We discovered that diaphragms worked well, however, with my plus-size penetration actually improving the seal, although in a scene reminiscent of a certain popular cable-TV serial set in our city, it sometimes took some work to retrieve them. It was not a perfect solution, as evidenced by three-year old Joey, but it had allowed for as stable a domestic situation as a human and an alien from 300 light-years away could ever ask for. Five hundred children is a lot, especially when you consider that even the act of fornicating with local species is strictly forbidden in any code of ethics. But while it was lucky that cross-breeding between species from different galaxies worked at all, it was far less than the 800 offspring I had hoped for when first undertaking the project. I was concerned about the numbers; for any given one of my traits, each offspring had at best a 50:50 chance of inheriting it, and I anticipated that the more "alien" the trait, the less likely it was to have been inherited. But there were some indications that some of my traits had indeed successfully passed on in some cases. The most evident were the cases of what you might call "super-strength," a product of more efficient muscle design (a necessity in gravity many times stronger than on Earth). For instance Eddie, (my first child with Crystal, my other human helper), had just been the first freshman to be named the best player in college football after having rushed for a record 3000 yards in his first year. Scouts were already projecting him to test out as the fastest AND strongest player in the draft combine when he became eligible in two years. The Commissioner of pro football had already begun working on ways to protect the integrity of the game for fear that any teams that got off to a poor start might throw the rest of the season in order to finish 0-16 teams and have a chance to draft him with the #1 overall pick. There were two seniors in high school that some scouts thought might challenge his record next year. It wasn't just boys; there was an interesting story in SI, ironically entitled "Supergirls," discussing the phenomenon of three high school volleyball players who were destroying the record books in New York, Nevada and Texas. The article marveled at the similarity between them, in particular their astounding vertical leaping ability. It noted that all three were also the product of single mothers without going to the next step and speculating that they might share a common father. All of my children, however, were known to the Starr Child Foundation and had been carefully monitored from a distance. Amy had been an organizational whiz since day one, and kept everything flowing smoothly. Now, after all this, the time was coming to go public with the true nature and purpose of the Starr Child Foundation. Each of my children received the following letter: Dear ... Have you ever wondered who your (biological) father was? Have you ever experienced yourself as being somehow different from all of your friends? Can you do things that others around you don't seem able to? Have you ever wondered why YOU were chosen to receive support from the Starr Child Foundation when probably no one else you know does? All of these questions will be answered, one time and one time only, at a special convention of the Starr Child Foundation. Please make every effort to attend. Amy signed it as foundation director, and it was sent with a round-trip airline ticket, voucher for two nights' accommodations, and a ticket to the event. RSVPs started flying in almost immediately; eventually we got over a 90% response rate. While Amy was sending out the letters, I placed a call to Dr. Martin Humbre, the astronomer that had been the spokesman for the groups discovering the shadow on Neptune. "You don't know who I am," I whispered into the phone, sounding more cloak-and-dagger than I intended, "but I know what it is that you're seeing casting a shadow on Neptune. It's something you've never seen before, but it's very, very important. Perhaps you have also received calls from crackpots claiming the same, but know that I am soberingly sane by giving you this prediction: within three days time you will begin to see brief flashes of light within the shadow, accompanied by gamma radiation the likes of which you've never seen. This will just as suddenly cease, only to start again sometime later. Perhaps when this prediction comes true, you will take this message seriously and call...." I hung up the phone, confident that it would only be a matter of time before the return phone call came. It took ten days. ----------------- "Ladies and gentlemen....thank you all so much for coming," Amy began, addressing the crowded ballroom at the Convention. "My name is Amy, and I'm the COO of the Starr Child Foundation. Many of you may recognize my name; I've been the one signing the monthly checks your family has received on your behalf, as well as any letters you have received. As you know, our organization has been a rather mysterious one. Our stated mission has been to 'encourage the development of greatness by supporting individuals with special potential.' Today, we will be sharing with you exactly what the meaning of this mission has been. It will amaze you and astound you; many of you will remain skeptical of what we tell you today, just as I was for a long time. But hopefully by the end of this session you will have a greater understanding of who you are, why you are here, and all-important mission you have been called upon to do. "Now...I'd like to introduce you to your keynote speaker today. He is a man that perhaps none of you have heard of, but he is the reason you are all here today. He is the founder of the foundation and has been its sole financial support for the last 20 years. Ladies and gentlemen...Bill Starr." I stepped on to the podium to polite and now even more confused applause. Amy had suggested I use "Starr" as a last name, which made sense; in the last twenty years I'd used dozens of them, although always the first name "Bill" because it sounded a little like the second syllable of my real name, which is unpronounceable in any Earth language. I was wearing a basic business suit, wanting to appear as "normal" as possible. I was surprised at how nervous I was heading to the microphone, given that I'd been orchestrating this moment for 20 years. But then again, how else should you react when you're facing and meeting more than 400 of your children for the first time? And about to tell them all that half of their genes came from outer space? "Thank you Amy," I began quietly, "I've waited a long time for this day, and it is with excitement almost beyond words that I stand in front of you today. I wish to tell each of you the story of who you are. But it is an amazing story...so amazing that it would be asking a lot to expect you to just believe it from the telling. So before I begin, I would like to ask all of you some questions, and I would like all of you to answer them honestly. You are all a very special group of people, but I'm not going to try to prove that to you. I just want you to answer each question honestly, and draw your own conclusions. OK?" There was a slight murmur in the audience. "All right. Now let's start with something simple. How many of you consider yourselves athletes?" About half raised their hands. "All right, now keep your hands up... now, if you're a really good athlete, please keep your hands up, otherwise you may put them down. And I mean good, like ELITE." About half of the hands went down. "Now, those of you with your hands up...how many of you are freakishly athletic? I mean, how many of you can jump twice as high as your friends and teammates, or lift twice as much?" About one-tenth of the hands remained up. "Wow...quite a lot, really," I continued. "There's only a few handfuls of truly elite athletes in the world, and yet in this room of 400 or so people, we have about 40 of them. What are the odds of that?" I paused to let that question sink in, for it was my thesis. "Here's a related question...how many of you can bench press 300 pounds?" Again about one-tenth raised their hands, not all the same ones as with the previous question. "Very impressive. How many people can bench 300—maybe one tenth of one percent? One in a thousand? And yet in this room, there are 30 or 40 of you. As I say, you are a SPECIAL bunch." "Now if you're not one of our super athletes, don't worry, because each of you is special in different ways. Here's a strange one—how many of you, on your way here, went through an airport metal detector?" The vast majority raised their hands. "All right...now...how many of you find metal detectors to be strangely ticklish?" About 50 raised their hands. Damn...that was the telltale sign of inheriting my control over the magnetic properties of my body. THESE were the people I was most counting on to save the earth. About one-fourth of what I had anticipated needing. "Strange, huh? And if any of you that find metal detectors ticklish have ever met ANYONE else that ALSO finds them ticklish, keep your hands raised." Every hand went down. I just nodded my head. "Now this next one is just for us guys. I'm going to dim the lights in a minute, and when I do, I want you to snap your fingers as quickly as you possibly can. Like this." I demonstrated; the sparks this created could not be seen in the bright light. "All right, we will dim the lights for a just a minute, don't be frightened. Now guys...when the lights go down, snap your fingers as fast as you can, and watch carefully. See if anything happens." The lights went down and I heard some people snapping. Then I heard three of four gasps, followed by murmuring as people around them saw what they saw. Some guys just learned, to their surprise, that sparks came off their fingers when snapped rapidly. Then I did it, and people in the front could see the sparks coming from mine. "Bring up the lights again please." I waited while the house lights came back on. "Amazing, huh? Have you ever seen anything like it?" I had most of them wondering now, open to the strange but true story they were about to receive. "I have one last question for now," I continued, "and then I have a couple of special guest speakers who have a few words to say. Are you ready?" There was an apprehensive buzz. "How many of you were raised by a single mom or have a stepfather?" Ninety percent of the audience raised its hands. The audience was perplexed now. "Now to introduce our special guests. First, all the way from England, Dr. Martin Humbre, distinguished astronomer and recent discoverer of a mysterious shadow on Neptune." I gestured towards the side and Dr. Humbre walked out, complete with lab coat. There was more murmuring, for Dr. Humbre had become a household name with all of the TV appearances he had been making explaining what was known of the mysterious shadow he had "discovered." He came up towards the podium, accompanied by another man. Both wore lab coats, by request, for effect. "And...Dr. John Jenkins, Director of the National Foundation for the Sciences." His face wasn't quite as familiar, but as the top scientist in Washington his name was familiar and has been asked to comment frequently regarding the shadow on Neptune. I gestured their way and stepped aside to let them speak. "Thank you," Dr. Humbre began in a traditional London accent. He waited for the murmur of the crowd to quiet down. "As most of you know, about three months ago our lab first started tracking a shadow crossing the face of Neptune. It looked exactly like an eclipse, only there was no known object between the sun and Neptune that could cast a large enough shadow to create an eclipse. We thought perhaps we had a spot on the reflector in our telescope, or perhaps were getting some strange refraction effect. But when we talked to other observatories and found three others that had observed the same effect, we announced the discovery of the mysterious shadow." This part of the story was well-known to most of the audience. "Well, within minutes my voicemail was inundated with daft messages. People asking if this was the sign of the apocalypse, claiming it was an alien spaceship, that sort of rot. But I received one unlike the others. I didn't know the caller, but he too claimed to know what was casting the shadow—only he didn't say what it was. But on top of that he made a prediction—he predicted that within three days we would see flashes of light in a corona around the object making the shadow, along with a massive release of gamma radiation--and then they would disappear again. Science, as you may know, is all about testing predictions; here was someone that was not only not hysterical, but calmly making a very bold prognostication. I had no reason to believe this person know anything, since none of us so-called experts had any clue, but perhaps because it sounded like it could have been a scientist I didn't automatically delete it." "Three days later the flashes appeared. I remembered the call, but thought it might have been coincidence, flashes aren't that uncommon, although the gamma radiation readings were. Until they ceased after four days, just as the caller had predicted. That's when I put in a call to my colleague Dr. Jenkins and informed him of my mysterious phone call." Dr. Humbre stepped back and Dr. Jenkins stepped forward to continue the story. "Dr. Humbre forwarded to me the message he had received. Now, there's a lot of work to do at the NSF; we aren't usually in the practice of following up on crackpot phone calls. But here was this call that predicted exactly what had just happened. Since no one else in the world had any clue as to what it might be, I figured it wouldn't hurt to call the number back. I handed it one of our post-docs to follow-up. He came back that afternoon, wide-eyed, saying he thought I'd better speak to the caller myself. When I asked him why, he said 'because what he says is utterly impossible, and yet he has me completely convinced that he's right.'" "I was more annoyed than anything when I called the number. But I soon learned that the post-doc had been right to refer the issue to me, and soon I found myself feeling the same way—what the caller said seemed utterly impossible, and yet the caller could substantiate his claims with high-level understanding of physics. And every question I raised had a perfectly reasonable explanation—reasonable, that is, except that the conclusion was absolutely absurd. But as a scientist, we must learn to let the data dictate our understanding of reality, even if it means accepting seemingly impossible conclusions. At one time Einstein's theory generated the same response, but now we understand how, within its sphere of definition, it is true." "Then the caller asked a question that really sent shivers down my spine—he asked if we'd ever been notified of a run of strange genetic abnormalities 15-20 years ago. Indeed, in routine blood tests a number of babies had been located with strange genetic characteristics. The information was top-secret, as there were concerns that there could be a mutation occurring within the human race. In all, several hundred specimens were located...and then they suddenly stopped. No one outside the highest levels of government had known anything about it." "'Who are you?' I asked the caller. He arranged for us to meet in a secret location. He also gave me some homework; he suggested I try something with the old genetics data that hadn't been done, may not even have been possible at the time I suppose. He suggested that I run correspondence analysis on the samples. That was a very wise suggestion, because by the time we had our meeting, I had already been convinced of the truth of two of the bombshells he was to drop on my that day." "One, that all of the genetic variations shared a common father." Dr. Jenkins paused. "And two, that their common father was not of this Earth." The audience erupted in bewilderment. What was he talking about? Had the head of the NSF gone batshit-insane? He said a few words more, but they were lost in the din. They took a few steps back from the microphone, not used to inciting riots when they spoke in public. Into this roiling commotion, Little Billy stepped towards the podium. He let loose an ear-popping wolf whistle to gain the attention of the crowd, then began to try to regain the crowd. "All right...everyone please sit down for a moment, because there's a lot more important stuff that you NEED to know. We ALL need to know. Because we were put on this Earth for a reason, and you need to know what that is." Standing next to me backstage, Amy beamed. Little Billy was regaining control of the crowd, as we knew he would--he was just a natural leader, and had a way of talking that made people listen. Skeptically, people started to sit back down. "My name is William Starr, but everyone just calls me Billy," he began. "And I am one of you. My mother is Amy, the Director of the Foundation, and just like each and every one of you, my dad is Bill Starr." Billy went on to explain the antimatter comet, that if we didn't divert it the Earth would be vaporized, and that the whole reason why "dad" fathered all those children was to try to save the world. He then explained that some of the audience had inherited special abilities--which he then demonstrated by levitating himself using his magnetic control ability. He was impassioned, he was direct, and he accomplished what perhaps no one else could have. He swayed most of the still-in-shock audience to sign on to the plan. ------------------ Three weeks later, I was climbing into a space capsule at Cape Canaveral. They say nothing brings people together like a common enemy, and in the last few weeks we saw unprecedented global cooperation. NASA had shared thirty years worth of innovations with six different national space agencies and four private companies. All of them would be coordinating to simultaneously launch all of us into space. I had worked with scientists to develop a nuclear drive for each of the spacecraft to use once it was in space; it would not be enough to intercept this thing, we were going to have to be able to maneuver around it. Likewise, it wasn't going to work to simply make a beeline for it, because then it would just zoom by. We had to curl in around behind it so that our momentum allowed us to keep pace with the thing. It took a lot of people working a lot of hours in a short period of time and cutting through solid walls of red tape, but the launch was a go. In all 92 people would be simultaneously launched into space and travel further than any human had ever travelled, targeting an intercept somewhere between Jupiter and Saturn. Previous manned space flights had been all about minimizing weight and resources; this time, we had to get to the comet as far out as possible. Superf***er Vol. 08 In all fifty-nine of my children inherited my magnetic control abilities, including Little Billy; all of them were part of the team. Most of the others that were selected had superhuman strength; Quinn and Crystal's son Eddie was among them. Billy was the only one out of all my children that had inherited both. My older daughter Genny was also part of the team; she hadn't inherited any of my physical talents, but she was invaluable nonetheless because had her mother's sharp mind. She was leading and coordinating the team members being sent up through private contractors. I led the A-team here in Florida, while Billy was in China, heading up the B-team. For weeks before launch I had nightmares of rockets exploding on the launch pad, as planning a space flight usually takes months, not weeks. Fortunately that didn't happen; one of the rockets did fail shortly after liftoff, but they were able to jettison the rockets and successfully re-entered the atmosphere--but it was that many fewer of us out there in space. As arranged, the rockets lined up all of the spacecraft roughly together. Then in a giant game of follow-the-leader, I showed them how to skip the ship into and out of Earth's atmosphere, using gravitational forces to accelerate the ships faster than humans had ever travelled. Only when sufficient speed was achieved did we fully break free and head out to intercept the comet. We swung up from behind it, formed a circle around it, and began slowing until we matched its pace exactly. It felt like we were standing still because there was no reference point to show how fast we were, in fact, still moving. It was eerie; you think open space is pitch black, but in reality there are minute amounts of light passing through it all the time, otherwise you couldn't see distant stars, you know? This thing, on other hand, swallowed everything, and was clearly visible as...I guess you would have to call it blacker-than-black. Ringing it as we were, we could see now that the comet was huge. I was concerned; not only did we have barely a third of the magnetic-sensitive people I had calculated needed when I undertook this project, the bigger the comet the less we would be able to divert it. Genny plugged the new information into our computer models; we projected the path of this thing straight through to Earth. Based on this information, we determined that our best chance was to push the thing so that it would pass "below" the South Pole. We slid the ships over to the best place from which to push, and those of us that would be "spacewalking" went out to confront the thing. Each ship had one person remain on board, with Genny coordinating them. We drifted closer to the comet, aligned, and "pushed" magnetically against it. Of course we were much lighter than it was, so the initial effect was to push us away from it. We countered that push using rocket packs, but it was a very delicate balancing act; you had to thrust enough to counteract the magnetism, but if you raised your thrust too high you'd push yourself into the thing. We did the best we could, but it was just too damn big. After 30 minutes, Genny told us to stop so she could measure the new trajectory; she could barely detect any change. We started pushing again. The real limiting factor, I realized, was the low-power Earth jetpacks. The magnetic force wasn't looking like it was going to be enough to do the job on a rock (or should I say anti-rock?) that big. The second approach would have been gravitational, but while there were people with "super-strength," there wasn't anything they could push against. Even one of us might have been strong enough to redirect a boulder-sized asteroid to buzz the thing and introduce a gravitational effect, what could we stand on to push? These flimsy rockets sure didn't have enough power to redirect a chunk of space rock. What we really needed was a Gravitron, a device that converted the small nuclear force into gravitational pull. Pull up next to this thing with one of those, and you'd be able to divert it in no time. But even on my planet, Gravitrons were very expensive--I'd never actually seen one, and I certainly didn't know enough about how one worked to explain it to Earth scientists. We kept "pushing" day and night, in shifts. Genny could track changes in the comet's flight, but since its original path would have had it hitting Earth nearly dead-center, we weren't pushing it far enough to avoid impact--we were just redirecting ground zero. By 36 hours, it was clear we weren't going to succeed; we only had enough oxygen to remain up here for another 12 hours before we needed to head back, and we hadn't diverted the comet anywhere near enough. We could head back and try for an even faster turnaround to come back up, but it would be so much closer by then, I wasn't sure even having a Gravitron would be able to exert enough force on an object that big. What's worse, we were heading for an asteroid belt; we'd never survive in there in our flimsy, unshielded Earthling spacecraft. I pulled out my IMS just to confirm Genny's projections. I forgot that Earth wasn't the nearest planet to my location; in fact the comet was so big, the IMS treated it like a planet. Thus, it calculated the nearest collision...and to my surprise found a countdown timer. I looked behind me, and I could see why: a large asteroid appeared to be heading directly into the path of the comet, and the IMS confirmed that they would collide. This would have been perfect had it not been antimatter, but since the inevitable result was vaporizing the asteroid with a huge release of energy, which would then be taken up as additional mass for the comet, this was just going to make matters worse. And we were in the blast zone. "Call off the mission," I called into my microphone, "this thing is going to collide with that asteroid over there. If we're in the vicinity, we'll all be torched." "That's a good thing, isn't it?" asked a voice I didn't couldn't identify. "Won't that divert the comet?" "If that was a regular comet, sure. But it's antimatter--a collision won't divert it." The IMS kept beeping in my gloved hand. Suddenly it dawned on me--it was beeping because this was going to be a large enough collision to create a wormhole in space-time. If I could slip through it, maybe I could get back to my home planet and bring back a Gravitron. "New plan," I said hastily, "I'm gonna get us a Gravitron." "What?" asked Billy. "No time to explain. Centaur 7, evacuate to Centaur 1. You'll have to squeeze into the other ships for the flight home; I need to take one by myself. A wormhole is about to open up." "A wormhole? Dad, what are you talking about?" "I'm talking about Plan C. Plan A and B have failed, but I'm not giving up hope yet. But, this is very important: you MUST make sure that there is another large collision in the inner solar system before the comet gets there. Throw a meteor at the moon or something, just something with at least 10 to the 23rd... something big. Got it?" "Make sure there's another large collision in space before the comet get's there." "Yup. That'll be my ticket back. In the meantime, I gotta go get some supplies." I steered the smallest spacecraft in behind the wake of the comet. I had just a split second between the time the wormhole opened up and the space around me with filled with massive explosion. But that's the way it ALWAYS is in ultra-long-distance travel. I was headed home. ------------ I glared glumly at the window high over my head. Light poured in, tinged red from yet another volcanic eruption nearby. I sat on the bed that was the only piece of furniture in the room. In my jail cell, that is. I was being held, awaiting my hearing before the Council of the Nine. A tight, solid collar rung my neck; similar in concept to the alarm anklets used in your house arrest, only this thing would shoot electrical impulses into your neck, interrupting all spinal cord signals. If you were lucky, someone might drag you back into the detention zone before the seizing of your heart and lung functions killed you. In other words, go ahead and try to escape--it's your coffin. I need to explain a little about my planet. It's big, but not very hospitable--perhaps a third of the total land mass is uninhabitable at any given time, mostly related to volcanic activity. There are some very small areas that are best suited for living, and the population congregates there. Consequently, the entire planet is divided into just nine separate states, akin to your "countries." Further, since we became an intergalactic planet we also have a joint government, the Council of the Nine. This body is in charge of issues of planetary importance, like trade and defense, while each has sovereignty over its own local issues. There is one member on the council from each of the nine states. Four of the states on our planet are similar to your democratic/parliamentary systems, while five of them are traditional monarchies. Politics on our planet have been very stable--read unwilling to change in any but the most trivial ways --because the monarchial states have always vote together as a block and vetoed any attempts at progress that could conceivably threaten their power. Anyway... I return home and report in, urgently asking for the use of Gravitron to save the planet I had just investigated. But one of the stodgy old kings refuses to be hurried by anyone--he made me present the entire report on the planet, its people, etc. I was getting testy, because time was wasting--I needed to get back with a Gravitron. That just made him more obstinate, and he suggested I needed to give my report under truth serum. A vote was called, and as always the five monarchies voted together in favor, the four democracies against. Truth serum was administered, and consequently when I told the story of Earth I was unable to omit the fact that we were able to inter-breed, and that in fact I had done so hundreds of times. Completely ignoring my pleas that I needed to save Earth from an antimatter comet, this admission was met with scandalous tones and I was sent here, charged with sex crimes and failing to abide by the space traveller's code of conduct. I was facing the death penalty, but I felt as if I were already dead; five billion homo sapiens sapiens about to perish because I wasn't going to be able to save them. A tall, slender woman in a maroon guard's jumpsuit came into my room unannounced. There was no door, the collar made it unnecessary. I thought perhaps it was mealtime, because usually that was the only reason the guards ever made an appearance; the rest of the time they sat in the office watching holovision. Glancing at my watch, though, I saw it was mid-afternoon. I looked up toward her. "What do you want?" I asked, not rudely just pointedly. "The Council is discussing your case," she said blandly. "Were you sent to interrogate me further?" I asked bitterly. "I..." she paused. "I wasn't sent by the Council. I was just... I was wondering what it was like." "Earth? Not very many volcanoes, how about that?" She nodded. "They say... they say you..." She didn't know how to say it, but I knew what she was thinking. "They say I had sex with the inhabitants of Earth? Yes, I did. Do you know why? Because their planet is about to be vaporized by the biggest antimatter comet I've ever seen. I tried to raise some half-breeds that would inherit some of our characteristics and do something about it. They don't have any control over their magnetism, for instance." "They don't?" "Yup. No magnetic sense at all. They could step over the planet's pole and never even know it." "But how did you know this collision was going to happen... I mean, there were years between when you started... breeding... and when the comet came? What made you even LOOK for something that far out?" I looked at her more closely. Her face was very smooth and her teeth perfectly straight, like you often fund in very wealthy citizens--but she was just wearing the garb of a simple guard. "They don't get impacts very often," I explained for the fifth time, "it was literally THE next major impact since the one that took me there." "Come on..." she said skeptically. "They're a small planet--and have big planet between them and the outer galaxy. It sweeps up most of the asteroids before they can ever become meteors. Plus, twenty of their years works out to less than two of ours—but the Council never asked me that." "So you decided you had to try to divert the comet yourself," she said, returning to the focus of her interest. "ExACTly," I sighed. This was the first person since my return who seemed to be listening closely enough to my story get it. "But... how did you do it. I mean... how did you force hundreds of female... Earthlings you called them?... to have sex..." I shook my head. "You've got it all wrong--I didn't FORCE anything on anyone. See... on their planet, male sperm doesn't trigger ovulation. Ovulation occurs more or less randomly, and hidden--neither the male nor the female knows when it occurs. To compensate, females are receptive all the time. It's not uncommon for a mature female to engage in intercourse every single day." "Every DAY? With different partners?" "Oh no, that's frowned upon; it happens, but is kept secret. No, women choose partners carefully. Sex becomes a means of attracting and retaining a desired mate." "So do their men want sex all the time, like they do here?" "Absolutely. A female that provides sexual access to a man currys his favor, and it helps them form lasting pair-bonds. Humans don't live very long by our standards, but they frequently keep a single mate for an entire lifetime." "For a LIFETIME?" That was virtually unheard of here. I said nothing. "Their reproductive system sounds very inefficient, but still, if they're constantly engaged in sex—doesn't the average female still end up having dozens of children in her lifetime?" "No, usually two or three. Later in life they lose fertility, but they also try to control impregnation by using devices. And engaging in non-fertilizing sex acts." "Non-fertilizing sex acts?" "Well yes... a human female has three orifices that the man can penetrate, and they may elect to use any of them to provide gratification." Her jaw dropped. "Sure you don't mean..." I should explain that one difference between us, one that I guess is mostly cultural, is that we have what you would consider a hang-up about filth and dirt, especially our own detritus. The thought of putting one's penis into an persons' anus would generally be considered revolting. "I do mean. Now that's relatively uncommon, as women primarily provide oral and genital gratification. But because it is uncommon, it is also true that women that consent to anal penetration are highly sought-after." She put her hand over her mouth; I wasn't sure if she was gasping or trying to keep her food down. She turned and fled my cell without a further word. I shrugged, not sure what that was all about. If only the Council had listened to my story as closely as she had. Depressed, I laid my head down and dozed off, having nothing better to do. ------------- I was awakened by a hand shaking my body. Two guards were standing over me, one holding the device that alone could release a prisoner's collar. They didn't seem very happy. "Wake up, you pig. You've been summoned," said the one shaking me gruffly. "To the council?" I asked groggily. The other one clamped the device onto my collar and began the unlocking procedure. "Not yet...you'll still have your day in court." "Then where?" "Princess -------- has summoned you. Lord knows what she would want with a dirtball like you, but she's a Princess--if she wants to see you, that's where you go. Got it?" "Yes sir," I nodded. I had no doubts they would just as soon rough me up on the way, and I didn't want to give them provocation to do so. With a click the collar opened and the man pulled it away, scratching my neck in the process. They put me in a restraint very similar to Earth handcuffs and led me to a police cruiser. The hatch opened, and they led me up the ramp in the back. Then it closed, and they took off and headed towards the Princess' estate. I couldn't imagine why a Princess would want to see me. Yes, we were on her home soil since it was her country's year to host the Council meetings, but I wasn't a citizen here. I have no power, status or rank--if I was, I wouldn't have taken a gig as an explorer to an unknown galaxy. Then I remembered the guard in the afternoon. Maybe she was just curious, too, about the man-who-fucked-indigenous-species. Naturally, being a Princess she couldn't be bothered to come to the prison, so she simply was having me delivered. I sighed glumly, expecting to be the centerpiece of a freakshow. We landed on a balcony-like protrusion in an immense palace. There was a rocky beach below that might have made for nice views except for the heavy dark clouds turning the entire landscape dark as midnight--volcanoes again. The guards ushered me off and towards a door similar to your French doors, where two household butlers stood to take custody of me. They muttered something about being their responsibility now while they removed my cuffs. All of a sudden I went from being treated like a captured dog to being treated like a visiting dignitary. "The Princess has been eager to meet with you again," said one of them, "right this way please." Again? I'd never met this person. I was ushered to the door of the Princess' private apartment, where the two butlers turned me over to a matronly maid. I eventually figured out that I was being shown into what was generally a "female only" zone. The maid sniffed, nose held high, and headed inside without a word. I guessed I was to follow here. She seemed to think very little of me, either, but she had her orders. She took me to a large, ornate door that was closed. She held the door open for me to pass inside, but stayed out herself. "The Princess is inside," she sniffed. I took a step in. The bedroom was as big as a house. There was a large four-post canopy bed to my right. There was lots of other stuff in there too, but I didn't note the details because my attention was drawn to the far side of the room. There was a fire roaring in a fireplace, and in front of the fireplace was a sedan chair. On the chair was a maid on all fours with her skirt pulled high and her butt bare. A second maid stood by her, holding a dildo, attempting but failing to introduce said implement into the first one's ass. Both were young and slender, in uniforms of the household staff with their brownish hair tied up in buns. Someone in a fancy pink dressing-gown was sitting on a stool, watching intently, directing it seemed. This was NOT what I was expecting to see. The Princess whirled about and saw me. "Oh good, you're here," she said breezily as she stood and walked towards me. I was puzzled by the familiarity of her tone until she came a little closer. Her long hair was now down, curled delicately in a way that is completely unnatural for my kind and required much time and effort to maintain, thus marking her as a member of the privileged classes. She wore an expensive gown, but the face was the same one that had visited me earlier that afternoon. I come from one of my planet's Republics, so I'm never quite certain how to act in the presence of royalty. Giving it my best shot, I dropped to one knee, saying "forgive me, your highness. I did not recognize you when you visited me this afternoon, or surely I would not have been so rude." She smiled to herself. "Then my disguise was successful. As you may have already guessed, I was intrigued by some of the things you spoke to me of this afternoon, of the ways of humans. You see, I am to wed Prince -------- of ---------- (darn unpronounceable names). I have never met the Prince yet, but I am told by... people that know him... that the Prince is a regular visitor of the prostitutes. If I am to be happily married to the Prince, I see that I will need to... satisfy his desires. It is my duty to bear an heir, but I do not wish to spend the rest of my life perpetually pregnant. Then I heard you speak to the Council of the ways of humans, and I thought that perhaps I could learn something from them. Thus I disguised myself and visited you earlier. What you said was at first revolting, but then I thought, what is more revolting--exposing myself to filth, or having my husband fraternize with prostitutes? Thus, with the assistance of my poor dear maids we have been attempting that which you describe--but we cannot succeed. I have thus summoned you, in the hopes that you might show us where we are going wrong." Superf***er Vol. 08 I gulped. I was being summoned... because I was an expert at anal sex? This was beyond strange. "Well... I am happy to try to help, Your Highness, but I have only done this once or twice, and of course I have only experienced it from the male point of view." "We realize that," she said patiently, "but you HAVE done this before, and we hope you can help us learn from your experience." "Well... for one thing, you can't just go about doing it cold. The recipient must be aroused." The Princess nodded her head towards her two maids. The one that was standing put down her dildo, crawled between the other's legs, and while the other remained on all fours she began to lick her genital area. We slowly walked closer to the pair. The Princess reached to an end table, picked up what appeared to a vibrator, and handed it to the maid doing the licking. She added that stimulation to her work, and it seemed like the maid on all fours was starting to get turned on—well, as much as you can expect for someone that is just doing their job and that has an audience. "All right, keep doing that," I instructed. Now, do you have some lubricant? The Princess picked up a tube from the side table (because our females tend to not be very receptive, personal lubricants are common). I picked up the dildo, saying "OK, now we have to slather this thing so it's slippery like a greased pig." That's not exactly what I said, but it's the English equivalent. I took two fingers and started to lube up the dildo, but I could see where maybe this wasn't going to work. For one thing, you have to realize that this dildo was made to resemble penises on my planet--which means it was super-sized compared to anything you might have ever seen. But there was a more serious problem. "Ooh... this it too rigid," I explained. "A real penis gives--it can squeeze to fit into a tight sphincter. This thing is too hard--I don't know if a sphincter can stretch far enough to let this past." "So what do you suggest?" the Princess asked suspiciously. "Well, give it a try," I said, "but I think you're going to have to get either a softer toy or a real man to really try this. Maybe one of your butlers will volunteer." "Let's try," the Princess said, ignoring the rest. "OK." The one maid kept working on getting the one on her hands and knees excited; I came around one side of her ass, the Princess stood on the other. I pressed against her sphincter with one finger, pressing it in. "Eww..." said the Princess. "If a guy's gonna stick his dick in there," I said, "he can't be afraid of a finger, you know? I wouldn't recommend doing this if you're overdue for a #2, though." She fought her repulsion and continued to watch as I pressed two fingers into the maid's ass. Then I took the dildo and tried to press it gently against the cornhole. I could see her tense up as she felt the attempted intrusion. "Whoa there..." I said, pulling it away. "Tensing up is your biggest enemy. You've got to remain as relaxed as possible. If you tense up your butt will tighten and you'll never get it in." I addressed the girl whose ass was the experimental subject. "Can you do that? I won't force it in; I'll only push it in if it's able to go. So try to relax?" The girl turned her head towards me for the first time and nodded. I could see she was frightened, though. "Here, maybe this will help," I suggested. I reached forward, pulled down the cup of her dress, and stroked her nipple between my thumb and forefinger, ensuring that the pleasurable currents of electricity that run between them excited the nipple. Women on my planet expect this, of course, but it still feels good. I could see her relax as her nipples were pleasured. "There, that's better." I slowly tweaked the tender nipple, making little circles with in my fingers. At the same time, I tried to press the dildo in again. She stayed relaxed this time, but my prediction seemed to be coming true--the dildo was just too thick and unyielding to make it past. I kept pressing until it became uncomfortable, at which point she tensed up all at once. "It's no good," I said, "this thing is too rigid. Go get one of the butlers or something..." "You do it," the Princess interrupted. "Huh?" "You do it," she repeated, looking up at me this time. "You've done this before, you know how it's supposed to work." "Look, I'm a prisoner of the state... the last thing I need is for there to be new charges that I tricked and coerced a servant into deviant sex acts." "There won't be any additional charges... I'm asking you to do this." "That's what you say now. And how am I to know that you won't change your mind. How do I know that this isn't all a set-up on the part of the Monarchies to guarantee that I'm found guilty?" That might sound paranoid, but maybe it gives you a sense as to the uneasiness and distrust that divides the supposedly united government of the planet. The Princess met my gaze, thinking for a moment. Then she said "do you still want a Gravitron?" "YES!" I said emphatically. "My private ship has one. Most expensive ships do, for gravity-surfing. If you can do this, you can take it. Go back to Earth, save it from that comet." I opened my mouth and closed it again. That was the one thing that MIGHT make me take on the risk. Heck, there was a good chance that I'd be executed anyway. On the other hand, there had been no indication on my IMS yet of any collisions in the vicinity of Earth--what good would it do to have a ship and no way to warp there? But I had told Billy to be sure to create a collision; I had to trust that they would succeed. It would be a redirection, so there wouldn't be much advance notice before the wormhole opened. It was my only chance to save Earth. "If I go I'll be a fugitive," I said thinking aloud. "I'd never be able to return. That's if I could get clear without being shot out of the sky for stealing your ship." "I can program it to add you as a user," she replied, "so it won't register you as being unauthorized. As for the fugitive, well, I'll tell them that I pardoned you. That ought to set off a lively debate--we've never had to deal with the question of royal authority in a monarchial state versus the authority of the Council." "That has some serious political repercussions," I said skeptically. "And this has serious marital repercussions," she answered with renewed resolve. "I wish to see if this can be done, and if so how to do it. Will you help?" I thought for a moment. "I'll try," I said finally, "but I'm not exactly 'in the mood' at the moment, if you know what I mean." "I'm told that's easily fixed," the Princess answered slyly. She made some gesture, and the maid on the bottom slid out and came towards me. She undid my belt and pants in a businesslike fashion. She released my flaccid meat, which she stroked listlessly. She bent over, propping my limp noodle up, and distastefully sucked the tip into her mouth. "Okay, okay... there's your first problem right there," I said. "What?" the Princess asked, not seeing one. "If you're gonna suck a dick, don't make it so obvious that you hate doing it," I explained. "Oral sex is for prostitutes," she snapped. "Oh yeah... did you ever stop to ask why?" There was silence. "Men pay women to suck their dicks because they like it. On Earth some women don't like to do it either, but many, maybe even most don't mind. It's the most common form of non-vaginal sexual activity among humans." The Princess was silent for a second; the maid was frozen, waiting instructions, limply holding my dick. Once again her natural abhorrence of "dirt" was conflicting with her desire to fulfill her future husband's desires. Once again the latter won out. "OK," she said quietly, "so what SHOULD she do?" "Well for starters," I said, pushing gently on the maid's shoulders, "you need to get eyeball-to-eyeball with it! Don't bend over like you're patting a child on the head! If I'm standing, you'll have to sit or kneel." She knelt in front of me. For the first time she actually looked up at me, paying attention. Up until then, she'd just been following orders, but now it seemed like she thought she might actually learn something useful for herself as well. "Ok. Now, you need to get past the idea that it's dirty. If you body language clearly says that you find it distasteful, you may as well not even try. I took a shower; I washed it as much as the rest of me. You wouldn't flinch at shaking my hand, but my hand has touched all kinds of germy things since last I washed it, while my penis has been safely kept clean inside my pants." The maid eyed my penis, trying to see it in a new way. It didn't LOOK dirty. "See... now go ahead. Try kissing it first." She kissed it and found it not totally abhorrent. "OK, not try putting it in your mouth." She opened her mouth uncertainly, making an "O" with her lips and gingerly rubbing them along its tip. "You're still afraid of it," I commented. "Imagine that my penis is chocolate-flavored." We don't actually have chocolate on my planet, but we do have a plant-based confection that females are said to be particularly fond of, so it's a good analogy. "And that you want to taste as much of it as possible." She glanced up at me, then resumed, but now was using her tongue as well. "Mmm. Much better." I probably didn't need to say anything, though, because everyone could see my penis responding to her improved technique. I was getting nice and hard, and the direct feedback in her mouth encouraged her to do even better. "That's good," I said. "No imagine that the flavor gets sweeter the further down you go." The maid started making an effort to reach further, and found she could comfortably accommodate much more of it that she had so far. "Ahh... now that's GOOD." It felt good enough, in fact, that I was overcoming my self-consciousness of the fact that there was a Princess watching intently. The other maid too, while still on all fours, was turning and craning her head around to watch my blow job lesson. I placed my hand softly on the maid's hair. "Men sometimes like to hold the woman's breasts while she's sucking him. That way, she gets a little something out of the experience too." The maid dropped her top and I grasped her nipple between my finger and thumb. It shot to life when the pleasureable currents ran through it. She even grunted a little, and I noticed she sucked me harder too. "Oh yeah... nothing like a little reciprocation to get things going." "Are you ready for the attempt?" the Princess asked impatiently. Oh yeah... this was just the warmup. "I am," I announced, "but she's not. Look at her--she's cold, not excited at all. Most of the time, humans engage in regular intercourse first, and then proceed to anal. I think there's probably a good reason for that." The Princess asked the maid if my proposal was acceptable, and she meekly agreed. I took a few baby steps to the side, reaching towards her. The other maid kept sucking me--I think she was starting to like the sensation of direct erectile feedback towards her efforts in her mouth. I stretched toward the other maid until I could reach her crotch. I ran my thumb gently along the cleft, reaching until I found the tiny nubbin. I then stayed there, rubbing with my thumb until it got erect with excitement. I pulled my hand back for a second to lick two fingers, the returned my thumb while gently stroking and pressing against her outer defenses. They softened, and in short order I was slipping my fingers in and out of her pussy while rubbing her clit with my thumb. This sent the current right through most sensitive part; her excitement was unmistakable as she struggled to maintain decorum while getting directly stimulate. "Now SHE's ready," I commented. I pulled my dick free of the first maid's mouth; I thought I maybe saw just a hint of disappointment. Then, like I was carrying a hot pan I quickly brought it over to the second maid and pressed it into her vagina. She was excited now, I penetrated her easily. Too easily, really--I had been spoiled by fucking so many Earthlings. Human pussies are sized for human dicks, consequently they're really nice and tight when I fuck them. Her pussy was sized for my size dick, and while it wasn't like it or something, it just wasn't as tight of a squeeze as I was used to. All the more reason, I thought, why you might want to fuck one up the ass instead. I fucked her steadily for a few minutes. The Princess was amazed I think by how strong her maid was reacting. She kept watching her maid's face, then looking back below to see if I was doing anything special, but really I wasn't--this was how we were MADE to mate. I motioned to the second maid, now also standing and reduced to watching, to hand me the tube of lube again. She brought it to me. I pulled my penis free, but returned my thumb to its position over her clit. My fingers were on the outside, but placed so that the currents still directly stimulated it. The second maid squeezed me a dollop and I quickly coated my dick with it. Then, with my thumb still in place, I pointed it toward the butthole and pressed slightly. The maid's back arched as she felt something against her anus. "Ah... relax..." I said in a soothing voice. "Concentrate on the pleasurable sensations." She tried to do as she was told, and I pressed against her rectum again. "That's it... stay calm... focus on the feeling of my fingers on you..." Encouraging her thus, and stimulating her with my fingers, she was able to stay relaxed. I felt the resistance soften, soften, and then... pop! My dick was in her ass. The maid lifted her head, I think mostly in surprise. Certainly the Princess was... "Unbelievable! It works!" I kept thrusting, fucking the maid's ass. It was as I'd remembered--a very tight narrow ring, not much beyond it. She went around to the front to study her maid's face. "How does it feel? Does it hurt?" "Hurt? Um... no, not really, it just feels kind of... odd." I kept fucking and rubbing her clit while she was talking. "Mmm... but it feels kind of good, too." "It can be done! It can be done!" the Princess cried with elation. The maid and I were both content to keep fucking. "But... what if not everyone can do it? What if there's something special about -----? How do we know if you can do it with someone else?" "There's nothing special, really. Look I'll prove it... I'll do your other maid, too." "Is that OK?" the Princess asked. I don't know if the maids really had the option of saying no or not, but she was at least asking. But when she nodded her head, it wasn't just the dull consent they'd been giving when I first came in; I wondered if maybe she wasn't secretly glad to get the chance to feel my dick inside her, since she'd done the work to make it hard. I pulled out from the first maid; she was definitely disappointed, having been brought so close to climax and now all of a sudden having to stand by the side. "It doesn't have to be in this position either, you know. Go ahead, just lay on your back." The second maid laid back on the divan, spreading her legs apart. "It's a good idea to have a towel handy, though," I commented. With a slight smirk, the Princess reached over beyond the chair where she sat and produced a stack of at least a dozen. "We'd already thought of that," she laughed. She tossed me a towel, and I wiped my dick off. Then I knelt between the maid's legs and rubbed my rock-hard cock up and down her crotch a few times. Her lips could feel my knock on the door, and became receptive. She didn't get much by way of foreplay, but my dick was still quite slippery from the lube so I was able to penetrate her. I fucked her pussy with a regular cadence. I also used my fingers on her nipples, to help get her excited. I didn't forget my purpose, though, and when I felt like she had built up a good head of steam I pulled out and had her curl her crotch up towards me. I bent forward and worked her clit with my tongue while motioning for the lube. The Princess picked it up before the maid could get to it, and to my surprise she not only squeezed out the dollop, she rubbed it onto my dick. Her hands felt incredibly soft and pampered... maybe that was just because I KNEW she was a Princess. How many guys have had a Princess touch their junk, huh? I was ready. The maid was, too, although still a bit apprehensive. She'd seen it done, and I'd not steered them wrong so far, but still, this was (pardon the pun) alien to them. I gave her smile. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you." Then I pressed her clit between my thumb and forefinger, giving her that sensation of direct electro-clitoral stimulation. She closed her eyes with pleasure, and at that moment I pushed against her backside. I was in her ass before she even knew I was trying it. I started thrusting, and she instinctively adjusted her pelvis until it was comfortable. The Princess was delighted. "But... that was so EASY?!?! You're already in!" I just nodded with a little smile. She addressed the maid "how did it feel when it went in?" The maid opened her eyes (I was still screwing her ass, mind you) and panted "I don't know... it just all of a sudden... was..." The Princess frowned again. "But he knows what to do. It's not like he just went up and pow, in he went." "I don't think I did anything special. I just tried to be an attentive lover, and helped my partner get excited before I tried," I explained. The Princess gestured over to the other maid excitedly, saying to her "come on--let's see if you can do me." She threw off her robe, picked up the toy (completely forgetting that she was naked in front of a male commoner) and let the maid start lubing her ass. I happily continued to screw the other maid while we watched. I don't think she minded. So-called common knowledge on my planet was that females weren't receptive and required considerable persuasion to agree to mate. Perhaps they were more receptive than we gave them credit for, if we could mitigate the near-certainty of pregnancy. The other maid picked up a vibrator and stoked it softly against the Princess' clitoris. At the same time she slowly began to press one finger against her anus. As she became excited, the muscle relaxed and the maid was able to probe one finger up the royal butt. As I had done, she continued with a second until two fingers were easily slipping in and out of the Princess' ass. "It doesn't hurt at all," she said in amazement, "try the dildo now." The maid picked up the dildo they had been using when I arrived and tried to press it into the opening, but a dick on my planet is a lot more than two fingers wide and she just couldn't stretch enough. I don't know if it hurt or if she just became aware of the failure, but she tensed up, making penetration impossible. "Earth women often masturbate in order to stay relaxed," I commented, "I've even seen them use vibrators while receiving anal penetration." The maid took the hint and picked up the vibe again. It helped, but that monster dildo was just not going to squeeze past that tight muscle. I felt the maid pushing back into me; I realized I had become so engrossed in watching the attempt I was nearly forgetting to fuck the ass I was inhabiting. Since I wasn't pushing, the maid was doing the work for me. I guess I was a little surprised how receptive to buttsex the maids turned out to be, but I certainly wasn't about to complain--or ask questions. "It's me," the Princess sighed dejectedly, "I just can't do it." "No, it's not you," I protested, but now remembering to fuck the maid's ass while I spoke. "It's that rigid, fake dick. The maid couldn't get that thing up there either, but when it came to a real penis it was no problem." Superf***er Vol. 09 The Princess' deluxe cruiser popped out the wormhole, and I found myself inches above the surface of your moon. The biggest danger in ultra-long distance travel is that wormholes only come from massive collisions, which means when you emerge you'll find yourself just inches above a large mass of some kind, in the middle of an explosion, or both. You have no way to know if you're inches from the side of a mountain, in the path of a fast-moving object, or what have you; you have to act quickly (and get a little lucky) or crash and burn. That's one of the reasons why no one back home thought much of my prolonged absence; they figured that I had just had an "unlucky pop." It was nearly true; when I first arrived on Earth, my ship came out in the midst of the Tunguska impact. My ship was mashed in the shockwave, but fortunately because this sort of thing happens with frequency ships are made with an inner shell much like the roll cage in a race car. The inner shell held and I survived. My ship was completely inoperable, however, which is one of the reasons why I was never able to leave Earth. There were no major collisions on Earth itself, and without my ship I couldn't simply go to the moon or someplace nearby where large-mass collisions were more common. Fortunately the blast left such a mess, I simply tossed some of the thousands of felled trees over the top of the wreckage of my craft and it was never discovered. Somewhere, under the forests of Siberia, what's left of it remains. This, on the other hand, was as clean an arrival as you could ask for; I was above a nearly perfectly flat range of the Sea of Tranquility. Pointing the ship upwards, I set my radio to scan the frequencies Earthlings tend to use. Almost immediately I picked up excited squawking; "Dad, is that you? Over." It sounded like Genny. "It most certainly is, honey," I said confidently, "what's your 20?" "In orbit just beyond you," she answered, "and we're running low on air." "Coming," I said breezily as I turned towards the direction my ship located as the source of the transmission. "Now you'll see how to travel space in style." "That sounds great dad," Billy now spoke, "but I hope we're not too late. Impact is in less than 48 hours." 48 hours! I gulped. That would be asking a lot, even for a Gravitron. "Holy shit... why'd you wait 'til the last minute?" "We almost couldn't pull it off at all," Billy said soberly, "we ended up dragging an old space station to the asteroid belt and using it to divert a space rock into the moon. Good thing we had the angles figured out right, because we only had one shot at it." "NASA couldn't have come up with something sooner?" I asked incredulous. "NASA didn't help at all," Ginny answered, "a lot has happened since you've been away. No one thought you were coming back." "No one trusted me? How long have I been gone?" Wormholes through space-time are just that; in order to arrive where you want to go, you kind of have to take your changes on when you arrive. "Three months," she replied. Fuck. I've never been able to figure out exactly how long your days are relative to ours, but I know I wasn't gone three months on my personal timeline. I now had a visual on them—a tiny ship, clearly a private company model. Six figures had already abandoned the ship and were spacewalking, looking for a pickup. I pulled round and opened the airlock as one by one they clambered inside. I closed the airlock once Billy, Genny, Eddie, plus three other of my progeny (Kurt, Jason, and Amanda for the record) were safely aboard. "Wow," was their unanimous reply. Earth spacecraft are primitive: with barely enough power to get into orbit, they are still mega-cramped and not gravity-neutralized, so its passengers must be uncomfortably strapped to the sides. The inside of most regular spaceships in other parts of the universe are something more like the inside of a bus or train car. This was a Princess' private model, though, so it was furnished much more luxuriously, maybe like a private jet or camper, complete with master bedroom and quarters for her personal staff. Either way, with climate and gravity controls you can freely roam them without your suit unless you're planning on heading out. I was wearing mine, though, because I had just jumped through spacetime, and as I say you never know where that'll put you. From here, there was no mistaking where the comet was. It was nearly up to us, having cut a visible path through the asteroid belt. Even if you couldn't see the blacker-than-blackness of it, all you needed to do was follow its wake, much like the path an icebreaker cuts through the surface ice of a frozen lake. And of course each asteroid it had encountered it had vaporized, releasing energy, which was then recaptured in the event horizon and reconverted into antimatter. Thus the comet was even bigger than it was when I'd left it, giving it that much more inertia we would need to overcome. "Let's get the bugger," I declared, and steered the ship towards the looming menace. I pulled up just "below" (from Earth's point of view) the comet, adjusting our flight path so that it was the same speed and trajectory as the comet and just a few hundred yards from the event horizon. Dangerous, but a speeding comet changes direction even slower than an aircraft carrier, so there wasn't much danger of it jumping up to swallow us. I switched on the Gravitron and began to pull. Now I did have to be alert, because while it may not change direction quickly, it was now moving our way. Every few minutes I adjusted our flight path slightly to stay out of harm's way. "I couldn't bring the computer with me," Genny moaned, "so I can't tell whether the trajectory is clear or not." "Don't worry, this will do it." I pulled up the modeling program and gave her a crash course on how to monitor it and what key symbols meant. We could see that we'd already adjusted its path, but so far it was still tracking towards impact. "Now what do we do?" Billy asked. "We sit here and suck this puppy into a new orbit," I declared. "How long is it going to take?" he asked. "Well..." I said, checking on Genny and the model, "I'm worried. So far, the models are still showing us impacting Earth. I think we're going to be pulling against this thing right up until the moment we get there." "That's 48 hours," he noted, "and we've been up 36 hours already..." "Oh man... you guys need to get some sleep. All right, here's the plan; Billy, I'm going to show you how steer this thing. Eddie, have Genny show you how to run the simulations. Then the rest of you get some sleep. In 12 hours we'll wake you, and you guys take a shift while we rest. We'll do this in shifts until we move this bastard out of harm's way. OK?" There was unanimous agreement. I showed Billy how to run the ship, then they went to bed. Genny and I sat alone in the cockpit. "So... how's you're mother?" I asked, breaking a prolonged silence. "She's... been under a lot of stress," she said carefully. "Oh?" Genny started to fill me in on just how much the world had changed. When the plan to save Earth appeared to fail, all hell had broken loose. Everyone lived like there was no tomorrow, because, well, there wasn't. People wanted to get a hold of any kind of luxury item they could, wanting to enjoy the good life for their last few weeks, but since at the same time no one saw much purpose to working anymore, commerce ground to a halt. Riots broke out as people tried to take what no one would sell them, and virtually the entire world had to be put under martial law. Around the globe the poor rose up, attacking and looting the possessions of the rich, with many casualties on both sides. Mexicans poured across the border, risking being shot on sight for a chance to get their hands on some of the good life; the situation only stabilized when the US government took protectorship over all of Mexico. Wars broke out all over, and less effective governments crumbled; tens of thousands of people were killed before the comet even got here. With no one to work the infrastructure of the planet, food supplies could not reach their destinations. Some parts of the world devolved into anarchy, but in the US the government stabilized the situation by forcing everyone to go to work. The National Guard ensured that everyone reported to their jobs as before, even if in some cases there was no work to do, or risk being executed as a traitor. Trucks started rolling again and the shops had employees again, so at least people didn't starve. Most people spent their free time getting drunk, screwing, or both; drunken orgies broke out in public places and office spaces alike. Civilization had been brought to its knees. "Wow," I said with amazement, although in retrospect it kind of made sense, "Earth is crumbling and the comet hasn't even hit yet." "Yeah," she said wearily, "that's one of the reasons we had to pay for the second launch ourselves." "I noticed that was a private ship you were in," I replied, "no government would give you one?" "No one was in a position to get organized enough to launch, they were all too busy trying to maintain order. But Billy kept insisting that you said to be sure to create a collision before the comet got there." "Indeed I did," I replied. "Unfortunately, no one else heard you," she sighed. "In the end Mom had to have you declared legally dead. Then she had us testify that you had lived with mom and raised us, so she was able to be recognized as your common-law spouse. Once she did that, she was able to get access to your Swiss bank accounts." "Oh," I said. Before she even told me I could guess those accounts were now history, and I was broke. Yet I still marveled at Amy's resourcefulness. "She took all that money, and with a some help from some rich optimists we privately funded the return to space. There was only room for the six of us, so there weren't enough of us to create any big interplanetary collision. Finally Billy hit on the idea of taking the old International Space Station and crashing it into an asteroid, diverting it to hit the moon. We weren't sure it would be a big enough bang, but I guess it was." "Barely," I agreed, "the ship almost didn't fit through the wormhole." "That wasn't the only thing. The Foundation was the only direct link to you, right? So naturally, everyone directed their questions towards the Foundation. Mom was bombarded by governments and everyday people alike: where did you go? Were you coming back? Did you abandon all of humanity to face certain annihilation? And she just didn't have any answers for them. It wasn't long before the questions turned to anger. Eventually we had no choice but to go into hiding." "You've been living in hiding?" "Almost three months," she sighed. I was silent. I wondered what kind of Earth I would be going back to. That is, if I would be going back to Earth at all. The models kept showing steady progress, but they still all projected an impact with Earth. -------------- I woke up, my turn to rest over as far as I was concerned after just a few hours sleep. I jumped out of bed to see where we were at. I could see the big red circle on the monitor before I even came up to Eddie running the simulations. "So we're still not clear of it?" I said solemnly. Eddie shook his head, not looking away. "No," he sighed. "We're now not looking at a direct impact anymore—part of the comet will miss." "So it would be like..." "Like taking a penny and shooting a hole through it," Billy observed, steering the ship. I nodded. "So... what will that do?" I asked. "I've asked researchers back on Earth to run models," he said soberly. "And?" "Any impact that strips away the earth's crust and exposes the mantle," Billy said heavily, "will result in a massive magma release. Lava will spew out like a popped balloon." "But it will be at the South Pole, right? So people will be OK?" Billy continued to stare straight ahead. "Actually, it looks like we will sideswipe Earth over the Outback of Australia. But it wouldn't matter—the Earth has never seen volcanic activity on anything close to this scale. Poisonous gasses would cover much of the Earth, perhaps even all of it. Ash would blacken the sky, blocking out all light for years. Temperatures would plummet, and the entire Earth would eventually be covered in ice, perhaps three miles thick. They call it the "snowball Earth" scenario." "So unless we miss it altogether, life on Earth will come to an end anyway," I summarized. Billy's silence was his answer. "Well, then we're going to have to take more risks. Let me take the wheel." It wasn't really a wheel, but you get the idea. "What are you going to do?" "Push the envelope," I replied. "Get us closer, increase the pull." Billy nodded. I brought us even closer to the menacing ball of black, leaving us almost no room for error. Genny was up now, and all of them were watching the model intently. Everyone but me—we were so close to the event horizon, I couldn't risk taking my eyes off the thing for a second. After about an hour, Billy announced nervously "it's better, but it's not enough." I took a quick glance; the comet's trajectory would not just be shooting a glancing hole in the surface, but it would still be enough to lay bare the Earth's mantle. The doomsday scenario still held. "I don't think we can get any closer," I said nervously, knowing we were far too close already. Once we hit the Earth's atmosphere, we were easily close enough that a little turbulence might push us into the event horizon and us to oblivion. "No, you can't," Billy answered matter-of-factly, but with a sense of determination. "We don't have time to get another Gravitron," I sighed. "No, we don't" Billy agreed, "but that's not all we can do." "No?" It seemed to me we were doing everything we could. "We don't have far to go to push it safely out of harm's way, right? So let's return to Plan A." "Plan A?" As in our failed attempt to move it magnetically? "Yeah," he said resolutely, "we didn't move it very far, but we DID change its directory using magnetism. So while you pull from this side, I'll go to the other side and push." I don't know why I hadn't thought of that. "That's a great idea!" I said excitedly. "I'll go with you." "No dad," he said sternly, putting his hand on my shoulder. "You're the only one who really knows how to steer this ship, especially this close to the danger zone. You'll do the most good staying where you are. I'll go." His three half-siblings that up to now had felt somewhat superfluous volunteered as well. As a father, I didn't feel very good about it, but rationally I knew Billy's plan made the most sense. So a few minutes later, I pulled the ship away from the comet briefly so Billy, Kurt, Jason and Amanda could safely exit the airlock. Then I settled the ship back down as close as I could, pulling against the comet with the Gravitron. Genny and Eddie were left as my crew. It took a half-hour for them to jet around to take up positions, but when they started pushing Genny noticed a subtle change right away. "It's working," she announced, "it's moving faster with you pushing from the other side. Now only time will tell if it's enough." For six hours, I pulled while Billy and the others pushed. The thing kept moving further and further from the surface. By now, it would only strike a glancing blow; with luck, it wouldn't be deep enough to penetrate to the mantle. Then all at once the red overlap zone on the impact projection disappeared. "We're clear!" Genny announced excitedly. "No direct Earth impact predicted!" There was a brief cheer, and everyone relaxed... a little. "It's still a projection," I warned, "it could still change." "Don't worry, we'll keep pushing," came Billy's voice. But both they and myself in the ship backed off a little, giving us more safety zone—especially since we were approaching the outer reaches of the Earth's atmosphere. Something vaguely bothered me about our celebration, but I wasn't thinking clearly enough to recognize it. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, but there was an important fact that I should have thought of that I didn't. "Holy shit!" Billy suddenly called. "What?" several voices asked. "We need to be more careful. I just about got taken out by a piece of floating scrap metal. Then it headed into the event horizon, and in a flash it just disappeared." "Space garbage," I said absently as my mind all too slowly processed the implications of Billy's close encounter, and I finally realized what I'd forgotten. "Shit... mass!" "Huh?" Genny asked. "Mass..." I explained hurriedly as I settled the ship closer to the comet again, to pull harder. "The projections are based on the current mass of the comet. But as it enters Earth's atmosphere, it's going to pick up mass. The space garbage is nothing—it's the air, ozone, water vapor—everything it cuts through it will vaporize, then recapture the energy as antimatter." "So it's going to get bigger as it gets closer to Earth," she thought out loud. "And harder to steer," I finished the thought. "The air may be thin, but there's plenty of mass in a couple of thousand cubic miles of it." "Moving in," Billy replied soberly. Even with the renewed intensity of pushing/pulling, shortly after we entered the upper atmosphere the models began predicting an Earth impact again. "Be careful," I warned, "those space suits weren't designed for Earth re-entry. Don't let them get too hot, and don't let gravity start pulling you in too fast." "If we don't succeed, there won't be an Earth to go back to," Billy countered. "Don't worry, we'll do what we can. Besides, we can repel the Earth's pull magnetically, remember?" "You magnetism isn't going to do much good if you're coming in at 1000 feet per second," I chided. I wish I had had more time to spend with them, helping them learn the limits of their special powers. Billy at least had known about his magnetism since he was five, and had been able to practice with it for a long time, but the others just learned about it in the last few months. We were in the atmosphere now, and closing fast. We were pretty sure the comet was going to touch Earth with a glancing blow. The only question was how deep would it cut, and we weren't sure how thick the continental plate was going to be wherever we hit. We were just going to have to keep pushing and pulling and see what happened. The ship now warned us of an impending impact in five minutes—we were cutting so close to the surface that the ship thought WE were crashing. "Five minutes to impact," I called into the mike. "Got it Dad," came Billy's reply. "You guys are getting too close... pull up," I screamed, fighting now with my own ship in the turbulence of the atmosphere. "Not yet Dad," he yelled back, "it's still going to hit too hard." I couldn't spare the attention to argue; this was white-knuckle time for everyone. One bad buffet of air and the entire ship would be vaporized. The rest happened so fast, it's just a blur to me now. I'm told that the comet stopped being black; as the event horizon vaporized air molecules, the entire surface glowed with fiery brilliance. From the ground, they said it looked like the sun itself was crashing down to Earth. Screaming through the Earth's atmosphere, the comet blazed towards the surface with our ship a tiny speck pulling right alongside it. When it actually hit the surface, so much matter was getting vaporized that the entire sky seemed to be glowing with release of pure energy; I had to pull the ship further away just so we wouldn't get destroyed by it. And then, just like that, we were past it. The glow died down, and the comet was now on an exit trajectory. Superf***er Vol. 09 "Damage report!" I screamed as I wheeled the ship around. I didn't see plumes of magma shooting up from the surface, at least not yet. That was a good sign. "Cut a ditch through the surface," came a voice from one the boys; I think it was Jason. "Volcanic activity?" "Negatory. Lots of bare bedrock, but no eruption. It looks like it didn't hit deeply enough to penetrate the crust." The three of us on board erupted in cheers—Earth was saved! "Great work, kids! Head towards the ship, we'll pick you up and take you back to EARTH!" "OK, but..." said Kurt's voice heavily. "There's only three of us coming in. Billy didn't make it." We'll never know exactly what happened to Billy. The four of them had been flying alongside the comet in a diamond formation, with Billy in the lead of course. Maybe he was too close, and a bump of turbulence pushed him into the event horizon. Maybe he got too low, and he got sucked down by gravity and crashed to the surface, but no remains were ever found. Maybe his suit was compromised by a burst of energy and he was vaporized that way. He was the most determined of anyone, though, that the comet not hit the Earth; in my own mind, there's only one scenario that makes sense. Billy rode the thing all the way down the surface, and eventually got squeezed between land and the comet. He may have decided before he even set foot outside the ship that if the comet wasn't clear he was going to sacrifice himself. We'll never know, but as I think back on the conviction with which he convinced us that he needed to get out there and push it's certainly possible. The only thing that we knew for sure was that Billy did more than anyone to save the Earth, and he would never know that his ultimate sacrifice was ultimately successful. ----------- I piled the remaining rescuers into the Cruiser and steered it towards Earth. Your planet had never seen an advanced starship before, now the entire planet was watching newsfeeds of one arrive. My first thought was to land it in Central Park, but then I imagined the insanity that would surround a spaceship parked on the grass. Hmm, where should one park the only spaceship in the world? I set the frequency scanner to full-band, and among the myriad of signals I received one from NASA. If I was planning on landing a spacecraft on Earth, they asked politely, would it be possible for me to land it in Area 51? They could have jets scrambled to show me the way, and they could arrange to take us anywhere we wanted to go. I thought about the political implications and the potential shift in the balance of power it would be for whatever country had access to the lone spaceship, and I realized that was in fact the best possible place to take it. I touched the craft down on what was probably a helipad and opened the hatch. None of us could wait to get out of our spacesuits, so we all ditched them before even walking outside. I went down the ramp last. There was a four-star general standing at the base of the ramp, saluting. A color guard stood off to one side, and further back a small cluster of civilian employees, many in lab coats, stood cheering. As I approached, the General snapped off his salute and extended his hand toward me. "On behalf of President and the citizens of the United States of America," he said formally, "let me be the first to thank you for saving our planet." I shook his hand limply, nodding. "On behalf of the United States, I would like to offer my sincere condolences on the loss of your son. You son made the ultimate sacrifice, and yet it is only through his bravery that the rest of us are standing here today. He was a hero of the highest order." I nodded sadly. Yes, he was, but that wasn't going to bring him back. He walked as I followed the others in walking towards a nearby building. I wasn't 50 yards away when the first technicians started swarming my spacecraft, trying to understand how it worked. "The president would also like to thank you for choosing the United States of America to have been your... base of operations. Clearly, Mr. Starr, you have some special talents. It could have greatly upset the world balance of power had you chosen to take those talents elsewhere..." "It would have greatly upset the world balance of power if I had let that asteroid hit the Earth," I replied sourly. "Yes, sir," he replied. His demeanor remained straight militaristic business. "But now there are other individuals who share some of your talents. There are elements in the world that would like very much to upset the balance of power. They will be very interested in individuals that have those talents, to study them and see what might be learned from them." Oh my god... I had never thought past the day of impact. I had created all of these half-humans, we had succeeded—but now they were loose in the world. "Are you suggesting that my children...may be targets for kidnapping?" Or worse, I thought. What had I done? "We must be prepared for the possibility," he said evenly. "The United States Government is prepared to assign Secret Service agents to any and all possible targets. But... we could use your help, Mr. Starr." "What can I do?" I asked, freaked out at the thought of my children being kidnapped and subjected to fiendish experimentation in the mountains of Afghanistan or something. "If we could learn more about you, and understand what makes you so special, it would allow us to stay one step ahead of any subversive elements." "So you want to study me," I summarized. The scenario I had so long dreaded. "We would just appreciate any cooperation you would be willing to provide. Do you have any insights into what makes you different? What other abilities do you have that we don't know about? Do you have any technology that we might learn from? And what other things can you teach our scientists beyond the existence of anti-matter comets?" I nodded. There was a LOT I knew, and now people were finally ready to listen. "We would just like to ask for your assistance, Mr. Starr, or the world might end up facing an Armageddon of an entirely different sort. The world is something of a different place since you last were here, Mr. Starr," the General commented. "So I've heard," I commented with resignation, "what do you want me to do?" "We would appreciate any knowledge that you are willing to share, Mr. Starr. We'll arrange for you to meet with the best minds our country has to offer: scientists, engineers, doctors. We'll take whatever you are able to tell us." "You're going to want to probe me with needles," I conjectured. "Your participation in any and all activities is strictly voluntary," he rebutted. "If you would be willing to provide a blood sample that would be greatly appreciated, but if you don't that would be up to you. Maybe we could take a little hair instead? We could get genetic information off of that." "You'd let me call the shots?" I asked suspiciously. "How do I know that you're not just saying that, and next thing I know I'm padlocked in a cell with a tube up my ass." "At this moment, you're the most famous person on the planet," he answered seriously. "If something were to happen to you while you were in our care... it might bring about the very destabilization we hope to prevent." I had no idea of the jubilation going on in every city in the world, I was in the middle of the desert in the most secret spot on Earth. Apparently, celebrity was my safety net. If the guys in black killed me, the whole world would literally be calling for blood. Plus, it seemed I needed them. I had created this army of half-humans to save the world; now that the mission was accomplished, I had a responsibility to try to protect those children from fringe elements of a world gone mad. It was in both our interests to work together. "OK, I'll come with you," I said with resignation, "but get me a sandwich, would ya? I'm STARVING." ------------ Eddie and most of the others had accepted Air Force offers to be flown home. I was sitting in a cafeteria across from Genny, waiting for the Air Force to get a transport to take her home. We were watching the news on TV; it was surreal. People were so giddy as to be dangerous, but the crowds everywhere were so large that not even the Army could disperse them, they could only keep them contained. "Wow. The world's really gone mad, hasn't it?" I noted. "Yeah. And it's been especially hard on Mom," she said absently. "Speaking of which, I tried to call her earlier, but her phone was out of service. I guess that makes sense, if you had to go into hiding." She nodded absently. She didn't volunteer anything else. "Can you give me her new number so I can call her?" I asked pointedly. Genny bit her lip nervously. "Umm... no, I can't." "You can't?" I was confused. "She asked me not to." "She asked you to NOT give me her phone number?" I was now really confused. "Dad... she's taking this very hard. The last three months, the going into hiding, arranging the space flight and now losing Billy... she's very upset. She said she doesn't want to talk to you." "She doesn't want to talk to me?" I parroted, not believing what I was hearing. "Dad, just give her a couple of days. She's grieving." "Can you relay a message to her for me?" I asked, still stunned. "Actually she asked that I relay a message to you," she answered uncertainly. "Oh?" She gulped. "She said that she knows it's not fair, but she can't help it. She's so angry about everything that's happened she never wants to see your face again." ---------- Genny was wrong; a couple of days didn't make any difference whatsoever. There was a big formal state funeral in Billy's honor, watched on TV by a billion around the world. Congress had awarded him the Medal of Honor and an empty casket was symbolically buried at Arlington. Throughout the whole ceremony, Amy used poor Quinn like a shield, keeping our younger daughter between the two of us at all times. Her eyes were red from weeping, and she refused to allow herself to even glance towards the side where I was standing. The President himself gave an address, and Genny gave a touching eulogy. After the coffin had been laid to rest and Amy turned to leave, I managed to reach for her arm. She pulled it away violently, but was at least partly facing me. "Amy...what's going on?" I asked. "Just... stay away from me. I dedicated my life to your... plan... and look what it got me. Well, I'm not going to let you mess up my life ANY MORE." She turned and stomped away. I shrugged at Quinn. "I'm sorry Dad," she said, fresh tears coming--she had already lost a brother, and now her parents weren't speaking. "Don't worry about it, it's not your fault," I said trying to soothe her. I hugged her and stroked her hair, but only for a moment; she gave me a sad, brave smile and ran after her mother, who was already sitting in the limousine. I shuffled off slowly as their car left, trailed at a respectful distance by Secret Service agents. I was sad, but through the whole thing I didn't cry. I knew all about the physical differences between our species, but I was just now beginning to understand the emotional ones. We just don't get hysterical like you do, and consequently to you we can sometimes appear uncaring or aloof. I'm sure that didn't help matters with Amy, but what can I do? I'm sure that the display of strong emotions is somehow related to your strange concealed ovulation process; strong feelings lead to reconciliation and then sex, causing it to be favorably selected. For better or worse, we experienced things like grief in different ways. I got in the car the FBI had waiting for me and let them take me to a secret base near Quantico. My house was a burned-out shell I was told, torched months ago by angry New Yorkers that thought I had abandoned them all to perish. My foundation was gone, I was broke, and I didn't know when I would ever see the family I had spent 15 years raising again. I'd already spent two days at Area 51, but I was letting them take me in for more "explorations." It's not like I had anyplace else to go. ------------ I spent the next week at a secret government facility--I honestly don't know who ran the thing. I talked with scientists, met with national security advisors, and saw more doctors than I could count. Most of them were boring, dour people, but there was one person that I was always glad to see. Her name was Dr. McGuire, and she was an internist. She seemed to be in charge of trying to understand how my physiology was different--like why I could lift so much weight, and why I could levitate. She was always very businesslike and professional, but even under the stodgy lab coat there were hints of what appeared to be an impressive set of curves underneath. She had to be in her late 20s or early 30s, given her title and position, but she carried it with an impressive balance between "still young enough to be hot" and "experienced enough to know what I'm doing." She had blonde hair piled up tight to her head, and shapely calves that protruded out under the lab coat and invariably ended in a pair of brightly-colored pumps. What really stood out, though, was her bright blue eyes, impeccably framed with a professional-like makeup application and magnified behind a pair of large, fashionable eyeglasses. I'd given Dr. McGuire hair and blood samples, let her take an MRI, even done a stress test. On this day, I was finally getting out of the machine after what had seemed to be an interminable CT scan. She was standing at the foot of the sliding bed as I came out of the ring, attentive and polite as always. "Thank you very much, Mr. Starr," she said formally. "Bill," I reminded her for the fifteenth time. She ignored my request, as always. "It will take me some time to analyze the results," she said as she always seemed to, "will you be available next week?" "I don't think so," I said. The bed had stopped moving and I could finally sit up again. "I'm really getting sick of this place... I don't know where I'll go yet, but I need to get out of here. If there's anything else you want, you'll have to do it soon." She bit her lip nervously (and unconsciously, very sexily). She had the appearance of wanting to ask something but being afraid to. "I take it there IS something else you wanted?" I inferred, slightly testy. "Well... um..." she gulped, "I wondered if... um..." I stared at her blankly. "I wonder if you would be willing to provide a sperm sample?" she finally blurted. I chuckled. THAT'S why she'd been so anxious. "Well, Dr. M.," I said jovially, "as you know I've provided many sperm samples here on this planet already. But seriously, I'm sorry but I'm not willing to sit in that cramped little room you've got me in and jerk off while 50 cameras are rolling." Her mouth frowned in disappointment, but she said, "I understand." "I'm sorry, I'm just not comfortable with all these cameras in here--hell, I don't even like taking a crap in this place. If there was some other way for me to get you a sample, you'd be welcome to have it... but not the way it is around here." She nodded, understanding what I meant. She at least got to go home every night--at least, I assumed she did. People did have a way of popping up at almost any hour of the day around here. I let her escort me back to my room. It was completely unnecessary, of course, because by now I knew every inch of this place, but attractive female company was rare around here, so I savored every moment of it. Aside from Dr. McGuire and a couple of nurses that I seldom saw, there just wasn't much to look at around here. But at my door she took her leave, and I returned to my lonely, self-imposed prison. Don't get me wrong, they tried to make it feel homey--I had sheets, a TV, access to a computer, even a video game console. But this place wasn't built for entertaining; I'm not sure what it WAS build for, probably a convalescence center for persons of interest to the government since there was a nurse's station at the end of the hall. But after 5 or so, this place became quiet like a morgue. It didn't help that there was an entire wing of rooms, but I was the only resident. I could walk down and chat with the nurses, but they were bound to their station, and the guards that were posted at every corner became very nervous whenever I chatted them up. I know the guards were protecting me, not keeping me in, but their presence didn't make it feel any more homey. I knew I had to get out. I watched the TV blankly. There were tabloid serials before the news, and in the last week I'd become the top story. They were tracking down every lead they could about me--some true, some fabricated. I waited around glumly for my dinner to arrive. Military rations--yay. I sighed, thinking about the house and the family I'd left behind--or maybe I should say they had left me. I couldn't even call or sent texts to my kids from here, the walls were too thick to permit a signal through. I was reduced to emailing Genny and the others. I had no idea what kind of life I could carve out for myself on this planet now, and yet going back wasn't an option, even if I reclaimed my ship--well, the Princess'. I hadn't asked to be a hero, I had done this to save my own skin as much as anything, but still it seemed like somehow saving an entire planet should something better than a sterile, lonely military hospital bed. Oh well... living on my planet, not knowing where the next volcano is gonna blow, you learn pretty quick that life's not fair. There was a knock at my door. I glanced at the clock--it was 5:30. Dinner never arrived before six. "Who is it?" I called. "It's Dr. McGuire," said the voice. "Come in," I called, sitting up on the bed and shutting off the TV. What was she still doing here this late? "Mr. Starr..." she started, peeking in. "Bill," I corrected her. "OK... Bill," she said with a slight smile. It was the first time she'd actually called me Bill, after probably sixteen times of correcting her. "I was working late, and I was wondering if maybe you were hungry?" "Sure," I nodded, "what's for dinner tonight... meat loaf again?" "Ugh... that stuff is NASTY," she said, turning up her nose. "How about some pizza?" "THAT," I said excitedly, "would be WONDERFUL. Has that been here all along, and I've just not found it???" "Not exactly," she said mysteriously, "follow me." I jumped up out of bed and into the hall. She was still wearing her lab coat, but she had it unbuttoned now, and I could see that under it she wore a plum suit, nicely tailored, with a hemline well above the knee. The neckline of her blouse was demure, yet the way it curved in the third dimension suggested that, well, she must have quite a rack. I hurried to keep up with her; I was just happy to actually spend some social time with someone. "I suppose I should clarify, I have access to some frozen pizzas... there's not a restaurant on base..." "That would be just fine," I protested. "I'd rather eat a pizza still frozen than meat loaf again." She let loose a free, natural laugh. It was nice to catch a glimpse of the woman behind the stodgy bureaucrat. I wasn't paying close attention to where she was taking me until I realized we had been walking more than I expected. I didn't know where her office was, but we had gone down the entire length of the wing, down the stairs from the second floor and emerged in a windowless basement. There were very few doors down here at all, and those that were appeared to be securely locked down. The hall itself, however, seemed to go on forever before taking a bend to the right. The clicks of her heels on the hard floor echoed down the empty halls. I didn't know what else might be down there, but there were pipes overhead running parallel to the hall and I could see them bend to the right far ahead in the distance. Superf***er Vol. 09 "I didn't realize we'd be going this far," I commented. "I didn't check out at the nurse's station..." I hadn't even considered, until now, whether Dr. McGuire might not be a spy or something—but we were still on the base... "Nurse Carmen knows where we're going... in fact, she's going to join us." "Oh," I said, pleasantly surprised. Nurse Carmen was my favorite—long brown wavy hair (when it wasn't tied up in a bun), nice legs, skin that appeared perpetually tan--I think she was Puerto Rican. I seemed to spend the most time hanging around the nurse's station when she was on duty. "So where ARE we going?" "Top secret," she said, but turned towards me and smiled broadly in a non-threatening way. "Oh?" I asked, a little more concerned. "These tunnels connect all the buildings on the base—those visible above ground as well as those hidden below" she added. "So you're taking me to a top secret, underground building?" I asked suspiciously. "Well, not a building exactly," she started to explain, but then stopped by a nondescript door. My sense of direction wasn't anything special, but I thought that we must be under the hill that ran behind the wing of the compound where I was staying. The door appeared to be solidly bolted and padlocked on the right-hand side—but she made no effort to open the lock. Instead, she walked a few feet to the left of the door, where there was innocuous-looking light switch on the wall. She flipped up the entire face plate of the switch, revealing a keypad. She punched in a code, and suddenly an entire chunk of the wall, including the door, swung out from the left. It turned out that it was a steel blast door, disguised to look just like the rest of the hallway. As the door swung open, a single soldier quickly stood up from a small table and chair where he had been sitting and reached for his rifle. An open laptop sat on the desk; a hole had been punched in the ceiling tile and an electrical extension cord and a Cat-5 cable hung down through it. He had been playing some sort of MMORPG, passing the time in what must otherwise have been an excruciatingly boring assignment. "Good, it's you Dr. McGuire," the soldier said, moving towards a keypad that hung next to a second blast door. "Carmen said you'd be coming." He keyed in a code, and the second door began to open. He glanced at me, and commented "you two having some kind of party down there?" "Nah, just grabbing a pizza," she said breezily. "Sure, there's plenty down there," he agreed. "Say, Seth..." she continued, apparently knowing his first name. "Do you suppose you could keep the second door open while we're down there? I get all claustrophobic when the outer door closes and I'm locked in." She gave him a sweet smile and batted her eyes once or twice. "Uh, sure, Dr. M," he said uncertainly. "No one else should be coming through on my shift. If someone does come in, though, I'll have to close it." She nodded. "That's fair. Thank you, Seth," and stepped through the door. He eyed me suspiciously as I followed, but forgot about me as he returned to his game. Inside the second door there was a small platform, then a steel ladder heading down. The ladder was ringed by steel bars to keep you from falling, so it felt rather like climbing down a steel tunnel. At the base of the stairs, there were two more blast doors, open but which could be closed quickly if needed. I lived on Earth through all of the Cold War, so I had a pretty good idea what I was looking at. "An old fallout shelter?" I commented. "Not just any fallout shelter," she "one of THE fallout shelters. There are three like this, all within a short distance of Washington. They were built to house the US government in the event of nuclear war. Congress, the White House, the Pentagon—key people were to report to these shelters to be able to continue to operate the government even after nuclear attack. But since the fall of the Soviet Union, they've been pretty much neglected." We had passed through the blast doors and found ourselves in a communications command post of sorts. There were a dozen stations, each originally outfitted with equipment that appeared to be of 1950s vintage set in fine wood cabinets. Some of the equipment had been updated, either by being replaced or in some cases with newer equipment simply set in front of obsolete ones. None of it seemed to be current. "Wow. This is like a museum," I commented. "You'll find a lot of that. This facility is still technically functional, but this room has been replaced by a single communications server on the bottom floor," she commented. We had crossed the communications room and found ourselves at a narrow staircase that ran down the middle of the bunker. On the other side there was a storeroom that held, among other things, haz-mat suits. We walked down four flights of stairs. The first two floors we passed appeared identical--rows of bunk beds were all you could see. The third flight down held a large lounge on one side of the stairs, on the other we could see a narrow conference/war room; something else lay behind a door in its far wall. Going down one flight further, there was a large bathroom/shower facility on one side, and a large kitchen in the other. "This is our stop," she said, heading for the kitchen. "There's two more floors below--housing for the soldiers and engineers to run the place, an infirmary, plus all of the life support systems. But the food is here." One wall of the kitchen was lined with huge walk-in freezers. Dr. McGuire made a beeline for one and headed inside. I peered in through the opened door; it was stacked floor to ceiling with rows of frozen, packaged foods. On one shelf on the left, there was a large cylindrical bag that had been opened; she took a pizza from a stack that had once been probably 24 high but now less than 10 remained. "So we're stealing from Congress' food rations in case of nuclear war?" I asked. "I suppose you could look at it like that," she admitted, "but if they really want to use these things again, there's a lot of things that would have to be restocked." She pointed to a small black box on the bottom of the plain, black-and-white label; it said Best if used by: June 1995. "The pizzas have held up pretty well, but there's some things in here I wouldn't try to eat anymore even if there WAS a nuclear war." She tore the wrap off the pizza and placed it in one of a row of industrial microwaves hanging above counters on the opposite wall. She pressed one button to defrost it, then a second to cook. As we stood there and waited, though, she started asking me much more personal questions than she ever had before--things that didn't seem to fall into her domain of expertise. She asked me about my relationships with my kids. I told her I had been dad to my four with Amy, but had little contact with the others--their sheer numbers hadn't allowed it. She followed up by asking about Amy, who by now was well-known coast-to-coast, having been seemingly constantly on TV since the funeral. I told her I wished I knew; between being gone and unable to communicate home and then losing Billy, she seemed to be very clear that she had no interest in seeing me anymore. "Are you sad about that?" she asked. "I am," I said mildly, "but as much because it's harder to stay in touch with the kids as anything else. On my planet, we don't form life-long partnerships like you do--as I told you the other day, we live a lot longer for one. We stay with one partner long enough to raise children, then usually split up and repeat the process with someone else. So while I'm sad that it seems to be over, especially ending with no warning like this, I think we were already starting on the path of growing apart before any of this happened. It's just really hard when one partner ages 20 years while the other ages like two." She nodded, recognizing how that could be a problem even if she couldn't begin to relate to it personally. Then the oven dinged. She pulled out the pizza, now steaming hot on its cardboard tray and for the first time looking like a pizza instead of a block of ice. She opened a drawer and quickly found a pizza cutter. She must have known it was there. "You've done this before," I commented. "Hmm? Yeah, a couple times... the commissioned staff don't dare do it, but most of us civilians have been here once or twice. Especially if you're stuck working a holiday." Pizza cut, she washed off the cutter and carefully replaced it in its drawer. Then she opened a cupboard that held an opened mega-bag of paper plates from a local discount store. "I don't think anyone is going to care too much so long as we leave it the way we found it." She picked up the pizza with both hands, the paper plates held under the cardboard and headed for the stairs. I followed her up. Instead of turning to the left and the lounge, though, the turned to the right and the conference room. "Can you open the door for me?" she asked. I stepped ahead of her to open the door in the far wall of the conference room. Behind it was a small room full of desks, with bunks attached the north and south walls. "This is the Presidential suite," she explained. "Each of bunkers has one, and the President was to be taken to the nearest one to his location in the event of attack. But since this is the closest to the White House, it was always expected that THIS would be where he would go if there was a WWIII." She kept heading through the room towards yet another door as she spoke. Again I jumped ahead of her to open the door. I was surprised by what I found. It was a bedroom, outfitted much like a better hotel room might have looked circa 1970. The furniture was all dated, dark wood, but there were dressers and even an old TV. There was also a queen bed, with a dark orange bedspread. Another surprise; lying on the bed, lounging comfortably and paging through a fashion magazine, was Nurse Carmen. Her white uniform shoes sat neatly at the foot of the bed, and her uniform white hose were tucked into one of them. She lay sideways at a 45% angle to the bed, resting her head on her hand. Her nurse uniform hemline was just above her knee, and smooth bare legs with bright red toenails jutted out underneath. She had loosened the zipper running down the front of her uniform, so as she lay there a hint of a satiny bra in bright red peeked through the gap. "THERE you are," she noted as she heard us enter, sitting up. Dr. McGuire headed towards a small round table with two chairs to the right of the bed, as any hotel room would have had back then. There was even a curtain hanging on the wall, giving this very much the appearance of a Nixon-era hotel room. I wondered why there would be a curtain here, since there clearly would not be a window; I peeked behind it and found a large chalkboard. Dr. McGuire put down the pizza on the table, next to some sort of cloth bag (or maybe a big purse) that lay on the table. She whipped off her lab coat and the jacket of her suit before sitting down in the chair nearer the door, leaving me to take the one in the corner. Nurse Carmen sat on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs femininely. Dr. McGuire handed each of us a slice on a paper plate before sitting back herself, crossing her own legs and balancing her plate on her knee. Her skirt was shorter, and I noticed that her legs too were bare in her heels. I tried to remember if she'd been wearing panty hose during the day, simply because I was sure I'd have noticed legs like that had I seen them earlier. I took a bite. It was an ordinary frozen pizza, a bit bland actually, but compared to what I'd been eating it was heavenly. "Mmm," I said, "this is SO much better than anything I've had to eat all week. Thanks for inviting me, Dr. McGuire..." "Fiona," she said, "call me Fiona." "OK, FIONA" I teased, "I will try to be better about calling you Fiona than you are about calling me Bill. " "OK, BILL," she teased, mimicking my tone. I just KNEW this girl had some spark to her outside of her official duties. I smiled at her, and my eyes verified what I'd surmised earlier--her breasts were quite ample, full and round. I felt my eyes start to sweep down the length of her neckline, searching for... I forced myself to look down at my pizza. "So... I heard on TV that you can't use condoms because they just pop... is that true?" Carmen asked as innocently as possible. Dr. McGuire glared at her. I almost choked on my pizza. "Um, yes," I coughed. "So what do you do for contraception?" she asked pointedly. "We don't much on my planet," I explained, "intercourse is rare, and generally procreative in intent." "So you only have sex when you are trying to conceive?" she pressed. "Not necessarily by design, but it often seems to work out that way because the success rate is so high." "But didn't you live like for years with that author woman? Why didn't you have like 15 kids with her?" "Amy? We discovered that while condoms don't work, diaphragms can be very effective," I volunteered. "Told ya!" Carmen burst triumphantly, addressing Dr. McGuire. "I heard it on TV. You owe me five dollars." Fiona's face turned bright red. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were betting on the outcome," I said, feeling bad for Fiona somehow. "Do you want me to change my answer?" "Too late," Carmen crowed jauntily, "I've already won. Are you ready for the double or nothing question?" "Um, I guess," I said, a little taken aback and yet energized by Carmen's easy forwardness. This little firecracker sure never acted like this at the nurse's station (darn it!). "When Dr. McGuire asked if you would provide a sperm sample, you said no, correct." "Kind of." "Kind of? What do you mean kind of?" "I think I said I wasn't willing to provide the sample." "Aha. So you never said that you didn't want us to HAVE one, correct? You just didn't want to have to collect the specimen. If you had someone to assist in OBTAINING a sample, you wouldn't have any objection to us studying it, correct?" Carmen concluded triumphantly. "That is correct, your honor," I said, responding to her legalistic analysis. She must have heard the story from Dr. McGuire, unless maybe she had been listening in--although, why would she? I glanced over at Fiona, but she was staring down into her plate, pretending to be concentrating on her pizza and not listening except that her flushed cheeks her away. "A ha! I KNEW it," she crowed. She also put her plate of pizza down on the table, hopped off the bed and sat herself on my right knee. She gently put her hand on my plate, which I surrendered and she placed it next to the other. "You see," she purred vampishly, "Fiona really, really wants to be able to study your sperm. She was really disappointed that you wouldn't give it. But when she told me the story, I told her you didn't say she couldn't have it. You just didn't want to have to be the one to go get it. Well, I told her, I thought that was a job that we should be able to handle." She leaned in close to me, and I felt her hand gently touching the crotch of my trousers. "Dr. McGuire was WAY too embarrassed to ask, though. She's a doctor and all, she's got a reputation to protect. But me... I'm a nurse. Isn't it every man's fantasy that a nurse will comfort her patient in ANY way she can?" She was rubbing me now, and my dick was responding strongly. She leaned closer to me. "Besides," she breathed, "I want to know for myself if the things they say on TV are true..." and with that she started kissing me. Not expecting any of this, I just sort of sat there in surprise, kissing Carmen. Her hand remained busy, however, and after feeling some fumbling I felt warm fingers touching my meat. She kept stroking me as I pointed towards the ceiling. I felt her start moving even before she stopped kissing me. Before I could even figure out what she was doing, she was kneeling between my knees and sucking my dick. I closed my eyes momentarily and moaned in spite of myself; she was very attentive, and using her tongue to excellent effect. It seemed like it had been a long time since I'd had my dick sucked by such a skilled practitioner. Amy used to suck pretty good, but after 15 years of "marriage" it's not the same, and back on my planet, well, most girls consider it beneath them. Mmmm. Fond memories of fornications past returned, accompanied by the calming pleasantness of a mouth on my dick. I opened my eyes for a moment and peeked sideways to see what Dr. McGuire was doing. She had quietly cleared all the dinner debris from the table and was fumbling through the bag on the table. I re-closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation of warm tongue stroking my penis. Carmen was fully engrossed in her sucking. She didn't look up, focusing entirely on my penis. At first she sucked slowly, like she wanted to taste my every inch as she reached as far down my shaft as possible. Then she sped up a little, but as she sucked me down I could feel my tip pressing against the back of her throat. Then she quickly released me before she began to gag, only to slurp me back down again. All of a sudden I felt like I could fill a jar with spunk, and the way she was sucking it wouldn't be very long either. But, it turned out, Carmen had other ideas. She must have felt me twitch, a warning spasm that climax was not far away. Suddenly she was standing, bending towards me--and slipping her knickers down her legs. "I think he likes me," she said with pride, "but I didn't come here to get you off and have nothing to show for it. Let's see how this outer space monster feels!" She crawled up onto the chair, pressing one foot on each side of me, squeezed between my leg and the arms of the chair. Then she lifted her uniform; she had a tiny patch of fine dark hair above a bikini wax. Grasping my penis with one hand, she expertly pointed me towards her opening. I thought it might take some work to get in, seeing as she had received minimal foreplay, but she settled herself onto me and on the second or third go she successfully impaled herself on my spike. She was already nicely wet inside--damn, she must have gotten hot just from sucking ME. What a woman! "Oooh," she sighed with satisfaction, rising up and down on my lap, "now THAT'S what a man SHOULD feel like." Her pussy squeezed me exquisitely as she bobbed up and down. Man, I can't deny it--I love human pussy. Designed for a dick half-again smaller than mine, they grip me so tight, yet I can still slide it in so easy. I'll never get tired of fucking them. I looked up at Carmen's face, but she wasn't even looking at me. Her eyes were closed, and her head tilted slightly up, her hair cascading down her back. She was focusing on the feeling of my dick filling her to the brim. She oscillated up and down in a steady rhythm. I noticed firm muscles tightening in her legs with every stroke; she appeared fit enough to continue this routine for as long as was needed. That was fine by me, but I found myself a little frustrated at being able to see little but a field of white polyester. Ah, but there was a zipper conveniently running down the front of her uniform, right in front of my nose. With a devious little grin I moved my hand to catch the zipper as it went past. I caught it, and pulled it; it zipped down to her hips. I held the two sides of the open zipper and pulled them apart to better see the toned torso beneath. She had a flat belly and smallish breasts held by that red satin bra I had caught a glimpse of earlier. She opened her eyes from her reverie for a moment, saying "you see something you like?" She grasped a small clasp between the cups and popped the bra open, then resumed her closed-eyed concentration. I ran my hands up the length of her torso, sliding them under the two halves of the unclasped bra and parting them like the Red Sea. They may not have been huge, but her breasts were proud and firm. They were the same light brown color as the rest of her, with dark brown nipples. I let my fingers slide over to touch her nipples, but was careful not to touch them with my thumbs... not yet, anyway.