by Clay Ferrill
The familiar arousal, I tap the image of the female and her single naked image paints the screen. She is shown in a prone position, her breasts full, her welcoming smile wide and white. There appear to be no folds at all in her delicate and pale skin. So exquisite, her beauty. Her eyes are golden and the hair on her head is long and black. Wow. Another tap and the male Dahrah appeared in a squatting position, his legs spread and his ample hang dragging on the floor. I reached instinctively for my again-growing urgency. Before I lose control thinking about taking a male clone in his throat ... oops, too late … I swipe my finger across the screen urgently.
The blank page again surfaced with the three priority options. I closed my eyes to concentrate and still myself. I need to clear my mind. And I need to clean up, too. My leg feels sticky and the silk lining of my cassock is sticking to my thigh uncomfortably now. I resolved in my mind that I will not be going to Syria to visit the brothel with the full intent of experiencing the oral delights of a male Dahrah clone. Let them just blow the place up. I select Priority because the proliferation projections are astoundingly large numbers of resulting infected. Men and women from all over the world are traveling to partake of a Dahrah sex clone as the word of their beauty and pleasure spreads wide and far. The idle rich. The idle horny rich.
The screen appears and the sole icon is the microphone icon. I tap it and it begins to pulse. “Dahrah must be exterminated immediately. Those coming into contact with them, already infected themselves, must be genetically sterilized somehow to arrest the spread. We need that intelligence, so perhaps infiltrate first to gain access to guest records. Recommend a virus to sterilize just the gene strain on a widespread basis. I would recommend that we begin inviting these men controlling these Knights of Damascus to The Vatican. An invitation to a private audience with His Holiness the Pope, with an offer to make the travel on the Papal jet will be seen as an attempt to garner political favor on the world stage, when actually they will be dosed in treated beverage, water and food, both. They must not be exterminated or harmed in any way. As for the Dahrah, I will set the charges myself if necessary, but the puppet-masters must face retribution from God.” I watched as my words then appeared on the screen.
Tapping the image once the next image showed the title of the signed and sealed document Resolutio, and the resolution read clearly and concisely. It would appear to be a targeted air strike launched by Iran. Swiping right another image appeared under the Dahrah heading. The image showed a young man with a closely-shaven full beard and beautiful eyes. Identified only as “Zeek”, it showed his data and statistics in metropolitan Tel Aviv, Israel. Another high-end brothel, except this brothel only has five male Zeek active at any one time. All numbers appear confirmed. The Zeek clone would be destroyed similarly to the Dahrah, except not by air strike. By a concealed and very stealth squad. Not me. Thankfully.
Tapping on the image again, the screen showing his fully naked body appeared. His body hairy, his strength evident in the developed arms, chest, torso, legs and buttocks. OK. Wow. This is one very powerful male sex clone. Alluring and extremely arousing. Very masculine. I let my thoughts drift to the mental image of my mouth on his skin, his muscles. His thick and ample … and then I would … I shook my head rapidly to clear the image from my mind and urgently swiped right again to clear the image from the screen. I gripped my stiffness firmly and breathed in deeply. Willing my panting to stop.
The next image was of a handsome Arab man in keffiyeh and scarf both. “Bazil”. In Arabic this name means “most merciful”. Statistics here read that he was an assassin clone, rarely used and then singularly, produced by a genetics cloning facility in Russia. I thought about this for a long minute and didn’t see the immediate threat if the Bazil targets were eliminated. The Bazil seemed to be focused on revenge targets only by his creators. The world could stand less oligarchs and rich perverted potentates. The next screen appeared. I tapped the microphone icon and spoke a single word. “Later” and then selected “Scheduled”. The next image a signed and Papal-sealed authorization to destroy the clone production facility in Russia only. No geocoordinates as yet. Someone other than me will be dispatched to see to its complete destruction when they locate it. It then faded to gray and was no longer editable.
I stopped and set down the iPad and poured the glass of ice water full. I reached into the pitcher and fished out two lemon slices, curious to taste and smell this magical thing that made simple water so crisply delightful. I gulped it down without stopping and refilled the glass. Setting it down I closed my eyes and bit into the lemon slices. The smell so … the look my face, scrunched involuntarily into a tight pinch. The second any juice hit the inside of my mouth my saliva ducts opened and I began to salivate profusely.
I leaned my body forward to spit the fruit pieces from my mouth to the floor. I just sat forward there slurping and swallowing until it slowed and eventually subsided. I turned the remaining lemon over in my fingers and tossed it back into the pitcher. I coughed twice more as some of the juice had gone down into my throat. Vile. I again gulped deeply and loved the wonderful sensation I felt from swallowing the cold, clean liquid. I just sat there with my eyes closed for a long time, watering still, thinking about the bombs dropping, the explosions at the clone production facilities leveling them. Why do I know such imagery?
Luigi’s image appeared in my mind’s eye then, smiling and laughing as he had spoken so rapidly to me. Nervous? Adorably nervous to be speaking to such a tall and handsome man - I had read and confirmed those pheromone signals correctly, repeatedly, actually. There was a deep primal interest in me. I reached down and gripped myself again, deciding to take a short break and clean up. I stood and walked to the door and opened it. Following the old priest’s instructions for gaining reentry here, I pressed my right thumb into the blinking red print reader until it turned green. This would grant me access when I returned, without having to disturb the old priest. Hopefully by now, he is enjoying a much-needed massage.
There are numerous men in this holy place that live to place their hands on another man’s body, regardless of his age. Most priests, are in fact, homosexual. But this is not wrong! It is entirely human. Having been educated pre-breach about this very subject, the deviance from sexual norms of modern man today - to produce offspring with women and on and on, is not the same for men of the Holy cloth of the priesthood. Priest’s in fact deviate from ‘normal’ and then congregate and house themselves in the company and companionship with other men of their brethren, also having deviated from the norm. This is not a bad thing. It is a very human thing. It is God’s will that man love man and woman love woman interchangeably. He loves us all unconditionally and clearly, understands and embraces human condition itself.
Placing both hands in my cassock pockets, I was headed again to the garden to pace for a minute to clear the images from my head and just think. I must analyze more thoughtfully, my feelings when I think of young Luigi my new friend. Making a sharp right turn after I ascended the long staircases up three floors, I pressed my thumb against the reader and my apartment door unlocked. It is a small space meant for visiting monks and the like, complete with a small kitchenette and dumb waiter to the kitchens far below. A semi-secluded and small bedroom, a single small bathroom with a sink, toilet and shower contained within the room. Clean white tiles covered all walls there, ceiling and floor, as the entire small room is the showering stall. Unbuttoning my cassock’s many fabric-covered buttons, I let the garment drop to the floor, peeled off my socks and stepped into the bathroom naked.
Turning on the water I lowered my head into the cold spray, turning it warmer gradually, letting the water cascade down my naked body, quite large still with the thoughts receding in my brain. I rubbed at my thigh where the silk fabric had adhered from my earlier spill there. Turning my face up into the water, I moved my hand over myself languishing in the primal satisfaction of self-pleasure. A completely natural act of a human of any kind post-adolescenc
e. We seek to pleasure ourselves with the sensations of our own touch. Again, Luigi’s image in my mind. His laughing eyes almost dancing in excitement when he’d first spoken aloud to me. Really quite endearing. Pinching my eyes shut I envisioned taking Luigi right here against the shower wall. What it would feel like fully embrace him here. Now.
My moans of pleasure were not stifled in the least. Grunting loudly and urgently barking, matching the spasms that in my mind were with him here, inside this wet room where no one could hear us. Breathing hard, I used the detachable wand of the shower head to rinse the shower wall and wash these unsettling thoughts down the drain. Gathering the bar of soap in my hand, I brought it to my nose. I read the engraving on the bar of “Irish Spring”. I lathered up generously, the hair on my body creating thick suds. Slippery against my skin. I love the scent of this soap, lifting the lather to my nose as I reached behind and cleaned myself, pushing a fingertip past my tightness, the incredible warmth of my body inside. Thinking again of Luigi.
I rinsed off and dried my body with the only towel and walked to the open closet and withdrew another cassock, this time selecting to wear the traditional Roman collar. I removed it from its box and placed it against my lips, as instructed. I dressed quickly, remembering as I approached the door and turned back to the closet. Bending down I slipped my loafers through the tight underwear and pulled them up under my cassock. Cradling my middle in the comfort of warm cotton briefs. Smiling, I turned back to the door. I had accidentally left it ajar. Only noticing the eyes watching me as I approached, the smile dropped from my expression and my eyes narrowed in anger at this invasion of my privacy.
Gripping the doorknob, I pulled it open suddenly, startled to find Luigi standing there smiling up at me. My eyes surveyed him quickly. Both hands in his cassock pockets, the folds of which indicate his hands at his center. Guilt painted his expression. I again smiled and gripped the front of his cassock and pulled him into the apartment, closing and bolting the door. Still gripping his cassock firmly, I pushed him forcefully against the closed door and lowering my face to his, looking deeply into his eyes. I sniffed him. Covering his mouth with my own, I pushed my tongue into his urgently. I passionately and hungrily kissed the priest, my hand moving quickly down his row of buttons, unbuttoning them as my tongue continued to probe the delicious taste of his mouth on my tongue.
I lifted my face from his, his mouth shiny with our mutual saliva, and pushed the garment down over his shoulders letting it drop to the floor around his feet. I looked down at his near-naked body. His only garment was a thin and torn old cotton undershirt with a short row of buttonholes at the collar and no buttons. Paint smears everywhere in every imaginable color. Lowering my face to his neck, I nipped and kissed and tasted his skin as I pulled upward on the t-shirt and backed away from him only long enough to pull it off over his head and dropping it to the floor. I wrapped my arms around his chest and pulled him into my body.
I backed up a step and began unbuttoning my own cassock, staring at my new friend’s naked body. He is much smaller than me, which was again enlgarged in anxious anticipation of feeling his body pressed against my own. I am going to see my vision come true. I would take what Luigi offers to me to feel the sensations I’d only imagined until now.
Letting my cassock drop, I stepped out of my loafers and bent to push my underwear down. Stepping out of them toward Luigi’s glaring eyes, the half-smile showing my own dimples, his tongue tracing his plump lower lip as he studied my body, heavily salivating. I again wrapped my arms around Luigi’s shoulders as I kissed his forehead and closed eyelids. Licking the surface of his cheek, I gathered him in my arms and carried him to the bed and laid him down there.
Luigi instantly sat up and put his face in his hands. I sat down next to him. I lifted his hand from his face and placed it to my center. He wrapped his fist around me and pulled.
My eyes rolled into my head and my head dropped back on my shoulders as my body shuddered at the sensations I am feeling.
The first time another human has touched my body intimately. Pushing his body back just as he had done to me, I lowered my head to taste of him. Watching Luigi’s eyes and feeling his body open to me, I pressed myself to remain calm. I’m physically shaking now. My eyes wide in amazement at the feeling, oh my God. Tears in my eyes could no longer be contained and ran down my face and chest.
Luigi’s mouth, desperate in seeking out and biting my shoulders and biceps, his bites firm and hard, coax me to stronger, more forceful reactions to him. I willfully slowed then and stopped. I found Luigi’s face in a blissful expression. He looked into my eyes with such a tremendously overwhelming love. Our breath into each other’s mouths and lungs as we panted toward release, intensely moving and jarring.
Tears streamed down our faces, both. I kissed him passionately and tenderly again. In total adoration. We showered together and got dressed without saying a word to one another. Both smiling widely. As we walked toward the door to leave my apartment and get back to our respective duties, Luigi’s hand on the back of my neck, his skin still hot from the sudden arousal and passion, he pulled me into another wet kiss of his delicious mouth. Planting his hand in the center of my chest he spoke “let me leave first. Wait a few minutes before you leave. I would see you again like this. Would you … is that ... OK with you?” My wide white smile, I nodded yes licking my lower lip. Luigi turned and opened the door, stepping into the hallway and looking back at me, his fully clothed body the image of the ordained Catholic priest in a traditional Roman collar. He winked and closed the door.
I could only look at my reflection in the mirror for so long, feeling again extreme emotions coursing through me, thinking back on what had just happened. I had taken Luigi so hard and so urgently. I may have hurt him somehow. My first sexual encounter as a human, with another human male. Looking at my eyes in reflection I willed my heart and soul to him. The tears again flowed unimpeded into the tight black collar buttoned tightly around my throat.
Impatient, I opened the door to get back down to the vaults and continue my assessments, the conclusions of which were all now being arranged and scheduled by mechanisms and people that will remain unknown to me in my short life. Actions to be executed by me or by others, it doesn’t matter. What matters is stopping the Muslim’s genetic assault on the planet whole.
I quickly returned to the small room sealed in thick glass taking the stairs down three at a time, loudly. As soon as I was inside, the glass once again tinted thick gray and became totally opaque. I retook my seat in the soft black leather chair and picked up the iPad while finishing in deep gulps, the water glass I had refilled. Tapping the surface of the screen it again came to life. The Zabbit. The initial image not as alluringly attractive as the others had been. I am relieved. I actually felt my sexual urgency of the past few hours subside. Diminishing in sheer intensity, thankfully. If I got aroused again now, I’d need to find Luigi and take him back to my apartment again. This is the only way I know now to fully experience that release. I will now never forget that. Luigi. Him and only him.
Swiping again, I read the statistics on the Zaabit clone. Smaller of stature, almost weak looking, elongated arms, the eyes larger than average, skin smooth. He appears to be that of a twenty-year-old Lithuanian male when clothed. His nose broad and somewhat flat against his face, his mouth appears larger than average with thick full lips. The eyes looked black within black. No color to the iris. Haunting and mesmerizing, the effect that has on me. I began reading, again a lot of italicized numbers yet unconfirmed. The Zaabit is a sex clone whose only talent is fellatio. He suckles.
Reading on, it appears that while the act is happening, he injects a substance into the genital organ painlessly using a micro-needle injector implanted, or rather grown, evidently, under each of his index finger’s fingernail, concealed from visual detection. The numbers here too, those confirmed, are staggeringly large. He is spreading the pervasive edited gene strain to dominate all men and women
that let the Zaabit have his way with them. Says here also, as confirmed, that he emits a highly intoxicating pheromone mixture that creates both strong desire for oral copulation, but also stimulates sustained erection to assure the oral coitus with the Zaabit. Interesting.
Aside from the injection of genes into the testicle, he just gives really good blowjobs? Tie his hands down and he couldn’t infect you. I may just need to try this, curious about what it might feel like to have a swallowing throat wrapping me. Tapping the screen, the blank appears again. I tap the microphone icon and it pulses to life. “It may be necessary to dose the municipal water supplies of the entire area to prevent the spread of the gene. Tie back here to a method to sterilize and then neutralize the gene strain.” Requires Papal authorization as this could possibly render the population sterile and infertile if anything goes wrong. I watched as my words were expressed in text and then again tapped the screen. The selection surfaced. I pressed Priority and felt myself arouse as I thought of using the Zaabit clone myself.
After a long few moments, the document of Papal authority dispensed instructions on dosing the local drinking water supply with genetic material that not only sterilized the effects of the dominant gene strain, but propagated that sterilization forward to any person, woman or man, that has had oral sex with a Zaabit clone. I would not get to experience a Zaabit clone after all. Swiping right and caressing myself again more to still my thoughts than anything else, the fleeting image of Luigi laying prone with me, moving underneath my taller and heavier frame.