by Kenze, Kyle
The vortex. That's what they called it in the dream.
If it was a dream.
But what was I thinking? Of course, it had to be a dream. Unless the Pentagon brass was testing some serious-ass goat-watching CIA psycho-spy technologies the rest of America didn't know shit about, stuff like this simply couldn't happen in real life.
Was there something the matter with my brain? I'd never fallen asleep at my desk after a phone call from a two-star general before. That kind of thing tends to wake up a man.
There was no jolt of impact when I landed. I simply felt the Earth under my bare feet before I felt anything else. The world had shimmered back into place again, except it wasn't the same place.
Not the Earth. Couldn't be.
My head tilted back so I was looking right at that famous blue marble floating high above me in a wide black sky all sparkly with stars. Unfamiliar stars from my vantage point a few steps down inside some dusty lunar crater.
Hell, the crater in question even came complete with the heavy treads of some twentieth-century astronaut's footprints. A little chain rope fence had been set up to stop you from blundering across said footprints by accident.
More craters in the distance. A jagged mountain chain on the horizon.
The Moon and yet not the Moon. Earth's Moon was airless. Everybody knew that. I'd be gasping out my last breath even as I stood here gawking at what appeared to be a tourist plaque written in some language I didn't recognize. Maybe the old footprints were a protected monument, the same way we on Earth make public parks and monuments out of the places where you find old dinosaur prints.
There was an odd tapping sound in the distance. I turned.
A tall brunette in a button-popping snow-white blouse and matching bandage mini-skirt slowly picked her way across the lunar surface. It took some time to make progress, what with the completely inappropriate snow-white six-inch stiletto heels she was wearing to show off miles of bare, tanned leg. Damn. Doctors should always dress like that, I decided.
“Darlene,” I called.
“Hey, Clayton.” When she smiled, her spectacular bosom shifted, the better to pop the button which (barely) secured the white blouse (barely) held in restraint. Her eyes were larger than ever now that she'd dispensed with the tortoiseshell glasses.
Considering I was butt-naked, I should have felt self-conscious. Impossible, though. This was all a dream and, even if it wasn't, she was the next thing to naked herself.
Waving, which made her boobies bounce even more, she finally kicked off the spike-heeled shoes to reveal long, slim toes polished with gold glitter that complemented her golden tan. Toes like that can be as suggestive of sex as long, slim fingers. I swallowed hard as I recalled the greedy way Dr. Darlene's fingers had clutched my throbbing cock only an hour before.
No hospital gown this time. No beeping monitor. Nothing but me and Mr. Happy, who was already standing up to salute the good doctor.
She looked directly at my growing erection, smiling to herself as she checked me out. Her smooth hands worked her own blouse, quickly unbuttoning those few buttons remaining that hadn't popped off of their own accord.
“This is amazing,” she said. “The process worked. You're here at last. You're really here.”
“All right,” I said. “I'm really here. But where is here, and what am I doing here?”
For the first time, she studied my face instead of my prick. “Didn't the people of your time know about the Moon? I had the idea from the records it was visible from your planet.”
“Of course, the fucking Moon is visible from Earth. But, come on. This can't be the Moon. There's air. I can breathe. So you know?”
“Oh.” She blinked several times to gather her thoughts, although it was pretty clear her attention had already drifted back to my royal hard-on. The way she kept staring at it, you'd think she'd never seen a dick before. “Um, well, so we have some things to talk about. But I don't know how long you'll stay in our time, so we need to work fast to collect your, um, seed. You don't mind sharing your body, do you? The records suggest you're very open to sharing.”
Her blouse was history, and now the bandage skirt was scooting down those long, impossible legs inch by sexy inch. She wasn't the only ditz getting distracted.
Sharing? Was that code for playing around?
Focus.
“How is this the Moon?” I was prompting myself as much as I was prompting her.
“Well, you know, like, when it became clear the Earth was hopelessly contaminated by the virus, NASA made a last ditch effort to convert the Moon into a new home for humanity. So they like slapped an atmosphere on it or something. Oh, and a gravity generator. For, you know, strong bones.”
NASA apparently didn't bother to send any underwear to the Moon. But maybe they'd set up a waxing salon or two to judge from the silky gloss of her hairless delta.
The bandage skirt dangled from a polished toe. She flexed and kicked, and the white fabric went flying. Neither of us watched it go. Her legs were two tanned arrows pointing to the place I needed to be.
Her voice was a kittenish purr. “You're perfectly safe here, Clayton. We have everything we need here for the survival of the human race.” One of her hands stroked my chest. The other one had already dropped to the main attraction. My throbbing cock fascinated her like a hypnotist's gold watch.
Damn, girl.
“On our world, the ancient diseases of your time don't exist. The deadly viruses and bacteria of old Earth are completely extinct.”
“Good to know.” Especially since tumbling naked through space to the Moon didn't exactly give a guy the chance to pack a box of rubbers.
Her hands rubbed and stroked. “We only lack one thing.”
“Um, yeah, what's that?”
She squeezed harder, sparking me to spit out the first drops of pre-cum.
“Men,” she said. “Sperm. We need your body, Clayton. We need to drain it of every drop of precious spunk you can possibly supply.”
Chapter 4
All right, fuck it. This couldn't be a dream, because there was too much talking. Too much physical sensation. Too much scent. Ever smell anything in a dream? Me, neither. But Darlene had a distinct citrus-vanilla scent, with an ever-so-faint undertone of something musky.
Female musk. Female pheromones.
And the magic of those pheromones was definitely working on me. Even though I knew I was somehow being fucked with, I was aroused to the point of desperation.
“What is this really?” Even as I reached out to squeeze Darlene's magnificent mammaries, I kept looking over her shoulders waiting for the next shoe to drop. “I signed on to be the personal assistant and data analyst to General Dyers. I didn't necessarily agree to be a test subject in whatever Pentagon mind-fuck technique the pointy heads are studying this week.”
“It's really what I said.” When she dropped to her haunches in front of me, little puffs of moon dust flew up. I couldn't believe this gorgeous woman was getting on her knees for me. “You have to believe me. The future of humanity depends on your sperm.” She leaned in to let her hot breath tickle the sensitive flesh of my swollen shaft. “This is amazing. All these purple veins, pulsing with blood like that. It's so... alive.”
“You really expect me to believe you never saw a dick before?”
“Why wouldn't you believe it? If it's true?” She flicked out her tongue to tap the little dent in my arrowhead. Just the softest of touches, as if she couldn't believe she was actually tasting me.
Hell. If she wasn't a virgin, she was doing a damn good imitation.
“Why me? Why me out of all the guys you could have possibly chosen?”
She hesitated. “I think it would be better if you were more... relaxed before we talked about that.”
“If by relaxed, you mean drained dry, go ahead and knock yourself out.”
“I, um, it's been a long time since anyone has seen a male. Generations. So you're probably going to have t
o give me some suggestions about how I can make it perfect for you.”
“Oh-kay.” How could it be generations since anybody had seen a male? Were they clones? Maybe that explained why everybody on this planet was a perfect ten.
She grabbed clumsily at my butt-cheeks, squeezing my bare ass with both hands to simultaneously massage me while pulling me forward. Her round lips shaped themselves into a perfect O that greedily clamped down on the three leading inches of my hard dick. She gasped, the spit already running from the corners of her wedged-open lips.
“Take your time,” I said. “Pace yourself. You don't have to gulp it all down in one bite.”
“Mmmm mmmm mmmm.” Forgetting herself, she tried to talk into my swollen flesh, which sent the most amazing sensations throbbing into my guts. Then she realized she was sucking dick, not trying to deliver a lecture. Her voice box stopped buzzing, but her tongue and lips never quit moving.
My toes curled into the lunar surface. Holy crap.
She wasn't lying about her lack of experience, but her obvious enthusiasm made up for any minor imperfections in her technique. At first, she struggled to get more than four inches or so of my engorged fuckstick crammed into her mouth, but gradually she figured out how to relax the key muscles at the back of her throat. Once she'd turned off her gag reflex, she was able to bounce her head faster and faster up and down the length of my eager shaft. Drool ran down her chin, and little snorts escaped through her nostrils as she worked.
It had been too long for me. Way too fucking long.
The pretty girls who swarm to D.C. tend to chase power and money, not low-level DOD civilian contractors. General Dyers herself had probably enjoyed more female tongue than I had over the past couple of years. It was tempting to let myself go with the easy impulse to paint Darlene's tonsils, but I didn't want to spurt too soon. I wanted to relish these sensations for as long as I could, even if I still wasn't sure whether or not any of this was really happening.
Darlene made a low, growling sound in her throat. Her fingers dug more impetuously into my ass-cheeks. We were in an unspoken power struggle now. As a new cocksucker, she was anxious to prove her ability to make me splash. As a man too long deprived, I was anxious to prove my ability to hold back. In a funny kind of way, even though I was the one on the edge of climax, I was edging her. The eagerness in her lips transformed into impatience, then desperation, then insistence.
She was humming again. That kind of humming where she was trying to talk and deep-suck me at the same time.
“You want me to cum, don't you, Angel?” I asked. “Yeah. You want it real bad. You want to gobble down all that hot, gooey spunk.”
Then something occurred to me. If they brought me here to breed, why was she spending so much time on the oral portion of the day's festivities?
Just how inexperienced were these hot-to-trot ladies of the future?
“I'm going to splash the back of your throat,” I said. “Is that where you want it? Are you sure?”
She nodded her head up and down while she sucked me even deeper.
Are you a human bobblehead? Fuccccck.
Thanks to the force of her suction, her cheeks hollowed into long shadows. Her lips sank deep into the flesh of my trembling shaft, clamping tighter in the places where she connected with the most sensitive nerve endings. There could be no more holding back...
...And then I heard a swoosh, not loud, but loud enough.
What the fuck?
I blinked. I may have even squawked a little.
Darlene was gone, and the Earth hanging in the black sky above me was gone.
I was back at my desk, sitting down hard in my chair. My dick, unable to accept Darlene's sudden disappearance, was actively trying to tearing my zipper down from the inside-out.
Someone had come in while I was gone wherever I was gone. They'd left a stack of old-fashioned manila envelopes perfectly positioned in the middle of my desk. I picked up the file on top. Oh, fucking fantastic. These were the paper files I'd need to summarize the Waraq drone disaster.
Should've been a mood-killer, but my balls were already too jacked up. I got my pants down in time, but barely. I could only hope manila envelopes were reasonably damp resistant because I was already splashing down the files in question in a sloppy string of clumpy spunk.
For the time being, the women on the Moon would have to do without my precious bodily fluids.
I'd spewed right here in my cube.
Chapter 5
“All right,” I said to the bugs in the cubicle walls. It's the Pentagon. Of course, they've got bugs in the walls. “You can come out now.”
Nobody emerged to slap me on the back and congratulate me for my brilliant performance as a test subject in whatever crazy experiment the DOD was running today. I hadn't expected them to. Tucking myself back in, I carefully wiped the extra ingredient off the files and settled into figuring out how I was going to summarize the Waraq disaster.
Don't think about crazy cocksucking on the Moon. That stuff can't, didn't happen.
The brass would want me to say human error. They always wanted you to say human error. Even if it was equipment failure, it was human error, because the various safety checks and balances established by the greatest military force that ever existed on planet Earth should have warned somebody there was going to be a problem. So I knew what to say, I just didn't know how to say it. Blowing out the pipes hadn't cleared up my clouded thinking as much as I might have hoped.
Darlene's tits were so real in that blouse. She wore no bra, and I could see every tiny dot of every tiny goose pimple on her aroused nipples. They were that real, that hard, where they poked through the thin white fabric.
Could I really visualize something that real without looking at a porn? Was anybody's dream really that detailed?
Something was going on, and somebody was messing with my head, and I was going to figure it the fuck out.
Instead of opening the Waraq files, I pulled up my employment contract on my PC screen to read it line by line, something I hadn't bothered to do when I first accepted the job. There was plenty of language about consenting to this, that, and the other psychological testing, but I thought they'd finished all that before they handed me my security clearance.
Was I still being investigated? Or maybe it was one of those random spot checks the DOD security droids sometimes run...
Hmm.
Seemed to me like they should spend less time testing the psychological stability of low-level contractors and more time testing some of the brass, but nobody consulted me.
And, honestly, how did they expect any male to react to that kind of test? Even if the dream women like Darlene weren't real, whoever was running this test was obviously tightly drilled into male fantasies. My body couldn't help but respond.
She was real. Those pheromones were real.
Fuck it. Real or not real, dream or psych eval, I needed to get laid. Didn't matter how much I'd spunked the desk. There was pressure building up in my balls again already.
I needed to come all the way down from the soles of my feet, and I needed to do it immediately if not sooner.
Darlene's sexy scent still lingered in my nostrils, and those pheromones had wrecked me. Impossible to focus on some stupid-ass executive summary. One spew wasn't enough. Not today, not now.
My personal phone, not the desk phone, sang at me. “Yeah?”
“Where are you, Clayton?” It was Brandy, one of a small army of messengers, interns, and go-fers who ran around delivering items around the Pentagon.
“I stepped out a minute to powder my nose, but I'm back at my desk. You the one who dropped off these files?”
“Yeah, I wanted to warn you. The general is not in a good mood.”
A pause.
I'm not always the most clued-in guy, but my encounter with Darlene had left me highly attuned to, um, let's call it potential sexual opportunities. “Thanks for the tip,” I said. “Would it be a good idea f
or us to get together for a latte later, and maybe we can share some information about the best way to approach this report? I have to admit I'm stumped about the best place to begin.”
She made a breathing-out sound that let me imagine her shapely pink lips blowing out air. “Yeah, that would be perfect, that would be great. I was actually on my way out the door to Brass Macchiato, so if you could get away now, maybe we could meet there.”
The odds she was looking for more than a quick coffee with a co-worker shot up considerably. If she wanted to keep the meeting professional, she would've suggested the cafeteria.
“Fantastic. I'll be there in twenty.”
As I headed out, I wondered if Brandy was in on whatever psych test I was being subjected to. She'd been in the cube, and she'd seen me gone. Or so she said. Maybe she'd been in the cube and seen me wired with all kinds of sci-fi futuristic virtual reality crap all over my head.
Hmm.
Didn't really pass the smell test. What with the current round of fraternization scandals, I couldn't see the DOD assigning a female contractor to flirt with, much less seduce, a male contractor. It would be leaving the Pentagon open to way too much bullshit in the media if anything went south.
Working in D.C. could be a lonely business if you weren't one of the rich and influential. Brandy was probably just as thirsty as I was. Was she angling for a nooner? How fast could we be in and out without anybody getting suspicious?
I walked faster. The hallway outside my cube seemed oddly quiet. Maybe everybody else was out screwing off too.
I took another step forward.
Then I was in the mist again.
And then I saw Darlene.
Chapter 6
This time, we weren't on the lunar surface. Darlene was sprawled naked on a wide, round bed dressed in pink satin. The matching pink satin heart-shaped pillows, the pink-and-white peppermint wallpaper, and the ankle-deep pink carpet combined to give me the impression I'd been whisked away to a Japanese love hotel. There was even a pink-and-red neon lighting fixture on the far wall in the shape of a heart with a Cupid's arrow through it.