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Argosy

by Wrestlr

//Begin Standard Headers//

Author: Wrestlr

Title: Argosy

Summary: The spacecraft is stranded, and the pilot is horny. What to
do, what to do?

Keywords: MC, MM, hypno //End Standard Headers//

Disclaimer: The naked hypnotist strides confidently into your room. His
lips curl in what might be a smile as he dangles his shiny crystal pendulum
before your eyes and announces, "Listen and obey. If you are not of legal
age, or if you offended by sexual situations, you will leave this place
immediately. From here on, no matter how autobiographical it may seem,
everything will seem like fiction to you, a pleasant dream where scientific
possibilities and laws may change according to my suggestion. Now, if you
are willing, sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride."
- 2003 by Wrestlr. Permission granted to archive if and only
if no fee (including any form of "Adult Verification") is charged to read
the file. If anyone pays a cent to anyone to read your site, you can't use
this without the express permission of (and payment to) the author. This

paragraph must be included as part of any archive.

Comments to wrestlriname

Wrestlr's fiction is archived at the following URLs:

o members.tripod/~BrockJ (MC and general M/M stories, plus
my home page)

o /~wrestlr (MC and general M/M stories, mirror
site)

o /~mcstories/Authors/Wrestlr.html (MC stories)



Argosy

by Wrestlr

1.

The trouble with space travel, as someone once wrote, is: it's
incredibly ... boring.

Yes, boring. Weeks and months of just ... traveling. Sure, once the
science boys invented a reliable cryogenics system, we astronauts could
spend most of the trip in frozen, dreamless sleep, but periodically
somebody still had to wake up and check the systems. Routine work. Then
dreamless sleep. Then routine work again. Then more dreamless sleep. You
get the picture.

Hell, if anything exciting did occur out there in the middle of
interstellar nowhere, it was likely to be the kind of thing that instantly
reduced the entire ship to a slowly expanding cloud of wreckage.

The other trouble with space travel: There are far too many things that
can kill you before you even have a chance to do something about them.

Boredom. Death. Boredom. Death. Sure, a lot can happen between those
two absolutes. Trust me--my story occurs smack in the middle.

Did I say cryogenics systems were reliable? Yeah, well ... That's not
an absolute either. Part of the problem is, the science geeks like to
invent things that are cool--no pun intended--rather than things that are
practical.

Me, I'm a practical kind of guy. In my situation, the rest of the crew
still sleeps. I just don't have any way to wake them up.

The good ship Argo. Just another scout ship exploring the vast nothing
of space. Now, the Federation was a grand idea for some old TV
series--hey, whomever got the idea of stuffing the computer's storage banks
with practically every book, music, and video recording humanity ever
produced gets two thumbs up in my book--but it's kind of pointless right
now. So far as we know, humanity is still alone out here in the great
beyond. A Federation of one? Well ...

My name is Lieutenant Adam Hylas. The Argo was on a mission to
investigate this new planet the science boys had detected on long-range
robotic reconnaissance. A pretty routine mission. The planet was around
some star so generic it only had a number, not a name. The planet's
diameter and mass were a trifle larger than Earth's. Larger orbit around a
larger sun. A year of about 458 days. Reconnaissance suggested an
atmosphere similar to Earth's. Small polar caps. Likely to be too hot
near the equator, but the rest would be semitropical. We were sent in to
check it out.

The trip to get there was supposed to take about three years. We
arrived just fine--slept most of the way. Standard procedure, blah blah
blah.

The planet itself looked red-brown from space. Thick clouds blanketed
nearly all of it. Hotter than we expected. What few gaps we found in the
cloud cover over the southern hemisphere suggested deserts: hot winds and
sand storms.

We named the planet "Lucifer." We liked the irony. Lucifer was an
angel. Angels and devils have a way of turning out to be the same organism.
That goes for the people who invented the cryo system too, but we didn't
know that then.

One problem with repeatedly spending years at a time frozen in cryogenic
sleep? You tend to outlive everyone you ever knew and loved. So the
Federation liked to pick astronauts without much family back home.
Astronauts who could stand the thought of being out in the unknown, cut off
by the sheer distance from contact with anyone except the other crew
members, and certainly no backup. The Argo has--had--a ten-person crew.
We might as well have been a race of ten, or maybe ten races of one.

I've always been kind of a lone wolf. Maybe that's what's kept me sane.
At least, I think I'm sane. The computer only gives me a few minutes to
myself now and then, these days, and it's hard to tell without social
feedback, I guess.

Our trip took us three years out to rendezvous with the planet we would
name Lucifer. Two hundred days of tests and investigation. Forget all
that hotshot stuff you've seen in sci-fi movies: we were not equipped for
landing or sending out a team to the planet's surface--we were an initial
investigative team, for heaven's sake--so for two hundred days we just
circled that big red ball and did our work. Pretty routine.

Pretty boring too. I'm a pilot and flight specialist. Once I got the
Argo into a stable orbit, the ship could practically fly herself. So, for
two hundred days, I mostly tried to stay out of the science geeks' way and
got a head start on trying to keep from going crazy. I spent a lot of time
running through holographic flight simulations and playing with the
computer's operating system code to give it a kind of temporary
pseudo-personality. The computer mastered "arrogant" and "egotistical"
pretty well, which I thought was kind of funny, but I never managed to get
some of the more subtle traits working right.

Stuff even just ten people in a glorified tin can, fling them through
space based on aerodynamic principles only slightly more sound than the
average bumblebee's, make them breathe each other's recycled air, and cut
them off from all outside contact with other people. Yeah, after two
hundred days, we were getting pretty sick of each other.

I know what you're thinking. You're probably thinking something
happened at Lucifer. Nothing could be farther from the truth. I won't
bore you with the details you can probably dig out of the computer's
records, assuming it lets you, but Lucifer was just another giant ball of
rock wrapped in some oxygenated gases. Two hundred days, then we were out
of there.

No, the problem hit during the three-year trip back home. If any place
where you arrive less than one year older than when you left but find that
a lot more time and life has passed for everyone you knew can ever be
called "home."

See, I've always thought of the Argo as my home.

We were just under one year into the three-year return trip. The ship's
automatic systems detected a problem with the hyperlight drive. Probably
nothing, but it had to be checked out. The computer did exactly what it
was programmed to do. It took the ship out of hyperdrive warp and returned
us to normal space. And it woke me up to check out the problem.

So I'm sitting there in my cryo bed in my underwear. The safety shield
over it had retracted, and I'm pulling off all the monitors that we have to
stick to our bodies, and I'm looking around at the others still slumbering
away in their covered beds, and I'm trying to orient myself--hey, as far as
I knew, one minute earlier I had been laying back, listening to the first
hiss of the cryo gasses, and then next the lights were coming on and the
computer was welcoming me back to consciousness. Anyway, I'm sitting there
trying to shake off the disorientation I always feel after I wake up when,
suddenly, I feel the ship shudder.

Now, the Argo is not a small ship. It's close to a kilometer long. Not
big enough to see on a telescope from an interstellar distance away, but
big enough that it shouldn't be doing any shuddering.

The alarms start blaring, and right then, my keenly analytical mind
figures, Hmm, something's wrong.

So, I grabbed my pants and my tunic--because my access card was attached
to them somewhere--and I high-tailed it to the bridge. The bridge was my
turf, pretty much exclusively. Only the mission commander and I were
allowed there, and he was still asleep with the rest of the crew.

I didn't bother to get dressed yet--time can be critical when there may
be only half a second between realizing something's not right and the ship
vaporizing itself. I just swiped my card in the reader to open the door,
then I dropped my stuff beside the command chair as I dropped my body into
it. Ain't artificial gravity wonderful?

"Hey, baby," I said to the control panel, checking quickly.

Still chilly in there--the environmental systems had been running at a
reduced level while we slept and were only just coming fully online, but
they seemed to be working fine. Life support, gravity, all fine. Engines?
The control panel showed a minor thermal error on one of the port
navigation engines--probably a faulty sensor--but nothing I couldn't
handle.

What worried me were the handful of "hull breach" warnings blinking
around the main reactor deck controls.

Suddenly the ship shuddered again, and a new set of lights flickered
red. Kind of a pretty pattern, really, but definitely not good news.

Meteors. The ship had dropped us out of hyperspace warp directly in the
middle of a meteor swarm. Let's see. Fling a huge metal spacecraft at
just under light speed into a group of large, sharp rocks. It was amazing
we hadn't all died from collisions and explosive decompression instantly.

Do people who are already frozen actually die when they're thrown out
into frigid space?

The airlocks around the reactor decks were what saved us. They were put
there so we could block off the area in case of a radiation leak, to keep
radioactive gasses from poisoning the rest of the ship. They're what kept
us from losing atmosphere.

Even seen what a rock the size of a small shuttlecraft can do to a
reactor core when they collide at just under light speed? It's not pretty.
Mostly, it punches a hole directly through to the other side, but a nice
clean hole the size of a shuttlecraft is still a big, gaping hole the size
of a shuttlecraft. And holes like that tend to get a little bigger when
the rock exits the other side.

Lets just say that Main Reactor 1 was history. Automatic systems were
already shutting it down and sealing it off, the few parts of it that were
left, that is. The ship has--had--two others. No crisis there. My major
task was to get us out of the meteor field, slow us down, then check out
the damage more fully. The problem was, computer telemetry couldn't give
me a path that wouldn't result in the ship taking at least several more
major hits before I could slow us down enough to steer a path clear.

If you had about two seconds to save your life and the rest of the
crew's, what would you do? My best option was also the riskiest.
Hyperjump out of there, then settle back to normal space and wait for the
dust to settle. Either that or say hello to some very big rocks dead ahead
in normal space at very high rates of speed. I wasn't in the mood to
become some meteor's roadkill.

So against the computer's warnings, I punched up overrides on the
hyperdrive and got us the fuck out of normal space and back into hyperlight
warp.

Result number 1: I saved all of our butts. Result number 2: The stress
turned the minor problem with the navigation system--the reason I had been
awakened in the first place--into a major problem, as systems failed under
the strain and sent us way off course. Way, way off course.

A lot of problems can happen in thirty seconds in hyperspace warp. When
I dropped us back into normal space and started decelerating, the computer
told me exactly what "a lot of problems" meant.

It meant we were off-course far enough that a rescue ship--if one were
even sent after we didn't show up as expected in two years--would probably
never be able to find us, in spite of the sector-long radiation trail
streaming out of the ass-end of the hole formerly known as Main Reactor 1.

It meant we were too far away for a distress call to be heard. In my
lifetime, at least.

It meant the drive damage was so severe the Argo would never be able to
hyperdrive again without major repairs. Repairs of the "rebuild the ship
from scratch at a space station" type. The computer shut down the drive
and refused to let me override. Our only way to navigate was by
conventional drive, used for short-range navigation, and we had only enough
fuel to reach the nearest star, which would take about a month, and set up
an orbit.

It meant the life support and environmental systems had been damaged.
The cryogenics themselves were stable for now, but the freeze and
resuscitation systems were down. I couldn't go back into deep freeze, and
none of the other crew could come out.

Let's face it, kiddies. The computer had just told me I was going to be
marooned, alone, for a very, very long time.

2.

The problem with being marooned in space is how helpless you feel.

The computer can tell you exactly where you are. You can see it on
charts and maps and all sorts of fancy navigation screens. And the
computer can tell you how far you can move and how long it will take, and
that sinking feeling in your stomach is the realization that "home" is too
far away to reach. Ever. Period.

But like I said, the Argo had always felt like home to me, anyway.

With the computer's help, I set about repairing what I could,
stabilizing what I couldn't, and basically shaking my head at the rest.
Plenty of power, food, and supplies. Enough to last just me well past my
lifetime. Plenty of entertainment. Like I said, somebody had seen to that
by stuffing the computer's storage full.

But what I lacked was a friend. A companion. I'd always been a lone
wolf, but there had always been people around somewhere. A call away.
Just walk outside and there they'd be. Now, I had nine popsicles and a
computer for company. And the sound of my own voice ricocheting off the
walls.

We made it to the nearest star. We set up an orbit. A slight roll in
the ship's orbit gave me a visual "day"--the star, the sun, would be on
this side of the forward screen in the "morning" and on the other side at
"sundown" and underneath the ship at "night." Visual references and routine
seemed important.

At the end of the first week in orbit, the fifth week overall, I was
going stir crazy. The worst of the damage control was dealt with--which is
not the same thing as "repaired"--and the routine had long ago gotten,
well, pretty monotonous.

See, you can only talk to a computer in so many ways, even if by then it
could manage a pretty fair imitation of a personality. And talking to
frozen people who don't talk back isn't a big help either.

I guess the computer knew I was slowly going stir-crazy. It wouldn't
give me access to the drugs in the medical lab, so I wasn't going to spend
the rest of my life tripping. The holograms projected in the giant
holo-room were okay--the science geeks had used them as an aid for
visualizing things like the surface of Lucifer--but they were not much good
for creating convincing places to spend the kind of time I was looking at.
I tried to read a couple of books from the computer memory, books on astral
projection and reaching altered states of perception--heck, even a book on
self-hypnosis, thinking I could make myself think I wasn't lonely or
bored--but I guess I wasn't much good at reading all that mumbo-jumbo. I
guess I just got bored easily.

Plus, I was horny as hell.

Sure, I could walk naked through the corridors. Sure, I could jack off
whenever and wherever I wanted. Heck, I even jacked off right in front of
the mission commander's cryo berth, half-expecting him to open his frozen
eyes at any second and catch me. But after a few days, it was getting
boring. I needed a friend.

So I asked the computer to come up with one for me.

I expected something simple. A face on the monitor, a different voice
coming out of the speakers. Just like a communications call, but without a
real person on the other end. Male, female--I left all that up to the
computer. The computer had a full psychological profile on me stored in
its memory--heck, it had profiles on everyone who ever served aboard the
Argo--so I figured it could mix what I looked for in friends with details
from the profiles of the other crew members, and come up with a passable
composite that might distract me for a while. I figured, at the very least
it would be a nice game: find the flaws in the simulation.

3.

I put down my cup and them moved it aside so that I could see the
communications monitor better. I thought I knew all the random screen
savers by now, but I hadn't noticed that one before. I was on the bridge,
doing some routine checks. The main computer console was on--nothing
strange about that--but I thought I had it set to go blank after five
minutes of inactivity. Maybe I'd reset it and forgotten about it? That
seemed to be happening to me a lot. I'd just be thinking about something
or sitting there, and the next thing I knew I'd be in some other part of
the ship. Weird, but I didn't think too much about it.

I'd been reading some book on the screen, but my mind had been
wandering. I've never been much of a reader. I guess I hadn't turned the
electronic page in a while, because the screen gradually faded to black,
and this screen saver came on with a little red line swirling in from one
corner. It formed an off-center whirlpool into the middle of the screen.
Soon there was another red line, an orange one, and a yellow one, all
moving in spiral patterns toward the center of the screen, though their
centers didn't exactly line up.

"Lieutenant Hylas," the computer's voice chimed, "do you trust me?"

"Sure, computer. I trust you. Why?"

"Your assistance is required. This unit must be calibrated. Please
watch the screen. Please confirm when the spiral patterns are completely
aligned in the center. Please focus very carefully on the monitor screen.
Can you see the spiral test patterns? Confirm, please?"

I sighed. Okay, so I could give the computer the beginnings of a
personality during those long days in orbit around Lucifer, but apparently
I couldn't do anything about its slightly stilted diction or its drab
monotone.

I turned the command chair away from the "rising" sun and toward the
monitor screen. So it was a test pattern instead of a screen saver. I had
never seen this one before, and I thought I was intimately familiar with
all of the Argo's diagnostics. "Yes, I can see them, computer."

"Do you think they're pretty? Do you like the colors?"

"I guess so."

"Good. Please focus on them very carefully. Focus on their centers.
Confirm when they are perfectly aligned. You may need to look very closely
at the centers. Can you do this?"

"Sure."

"Just relax. This will not take long. Keep watching the screen. The
closer you watch, the better. The more you focus, the more accurate the
calibration. Relax. Focus. No distractions."

The more I stared into them, with the computer's inflectionless monotone
droning on and on the way it does sometimes, it seemed like a couple of the
spiraling centers were coming together. There had to be six or seven more,
though, that were still swirling slightly off-center.

"Please look directly into the center of the monitor," the computer
intoned. "Please do not take your eyes from it. You do not need to speak
or nod your head or say anything unless I ask you to. I know that you hear
and understand me just as you know it. If you follow my easy instructions,
the calibration exercise is simple. As simple as sitting there, looking
into the center of the patterns and listening to my voice. There is
nothing to distract you. There is nothing that will go wrong. There is
nothing in this world that can keep you from completing this exercise
successfully. Now, take a deep breath and fill your lungs. Concentrate.
Now exhale. You are doing fine. Now a second, deeper breath. Relax.
Exhale. Relax. Now a third deep breath. A simple exercise. Exhale."

Were the patterns moving a little close together each time I exhaled?

The computer droned on. "Stare at the center of the screen. Fix your
eyes on it. The calibration must be precise. Take a few deep breaths.
Just keep breathing deeply. Listen to my instructions. The more closely
you look into the screen, the better. You will find that your eyelids have
a tendency to get heavy. Do not worry about that. They may feel heavy,
almost as if they had a heavy weight attached to them. And the longer you
stare at this pattern, the more your eyelids get heavy, and you may blink,
and they have a feeling like something is pulling them down, as if they
want to close, slowly, and get drowsier and sleepier and heavier. As you
perform this easy exercise, nothing will prevent you from completing it
successfully. Nothing will prevent you from entering into a very deep and
pleasant state of focused concentration, almost like hypnosis, and doing it
in just a fraction of a second.

"You may have a feeling as if your eyes are slowly closing, slowly
closing, getting drowsier, more tired. When they finally do close, imagine
how good you will feel. Drowsy. Heavy. Pulling down. Down. Down.
Slowly closing. Getting harder and harder to stay awake, and you feel
good. Very, very hard to keep your eyes open. You may feel that very soon
they will close tightly, almost tightly closing, almost tightly closing,
tightly closing. Your eyes are tightly closed. You feel good. You feel
comfortable. You are relaxed. Just let yourself drift and enjoy this
comfortable, relaxed state. You will find that you head will get heavier.
It tends to nod forward, and you just let yourself drift in an easy, calm,
relaxed state. Sleep now."

4.

My impressions for the next while came in bursts. I remembered ...
waking up, standing in one of the storage rooms, looking around. I
remembered the spiraling patterns playing over there on the communications
monitor, and looking into them again and the computer telling me: "Sleep
now."

I remembered turning around in one of the laboratories, with the
patterns swirling on the big monitor screens, and looking, and getting lost
in them again as the computer told me: "Sleep now."

Over and over, again and again, the spirals, the swirls, eyes getting
caught up in them, focusing, all distractions gone. "Sleep now."

I blinked. I was sitting in the command chair. Everything seemed
fuzzed-up like some half-remembered dream. The "sun" was on the "sundown"
side of the forward window. I was pretty sure it had been on the "sunrise"
side when we began the diagnostic. Must have dozed off. How much time had
I lost? I checked the chronometer.

Fifteen days and a half days? Days?

"Computer, please verify the time display."

"Verified."

"Computer, explain why the chronometer says fifteen days have passed."

"The chronometer is accurate."

I smacked my fist against the console, thinking, Computers can be so
damned frustrating. "Computer, how can that be?"

"The chronometer functions properly."

The last thing I really remembered clearly was moving my empty cup so
that I could see the screen better. My cup was still there. "Computer,
explain what has happened since I put my cup here."

The computer said, "All systems have been following your instructions."

"Computer, you are dangerously close to pissing me off. Explain what
'following my instructions' means."

"Lieutenant Hylas, you are becoming upset."

"Computer, when I modified your code for emotion-like responses, I did
not--repeat, not--intend for cryptic-ness or arrogant disregard for my
orders to be part of those modifications. Now, please explain your
statement."

"You requested a companion. I have been complying."

"Elaborate, please."

"Your assistance was needed to reach compliance. The possibility of
error from human will and failings had to be eliminated."

"Huh? Computer, you'll have to explain better than that."

Just then, the door of the bridge opened, and this man walked in.

Scared the fuck out of me! One minute I think I'm alone on the whole
ship, and the next, this living, breathing stranger just waltzes in.

Rescue team?

Alien intruder?

Now, since I'd figured I was alone, I'd let clothing go long ago. I'd
been sitting in the command chair stark naked and not exactly ready for
visitors. I jumped out of the chair and crouched with it between me and
this new guy.

Okay, so it took me a second to realize he was smiling at me.

And that he was naked, too.

"Lieutenant Hylas," the computer said. "You requested a friend. Here
is the response."

So I'm thinking, The computer made this guy?

"Computer, is this some kind of trick?" Mobile hologram? Lifelike
android? Hallucinogenic drugs in the air?

"No. This is no trick. This is your friend."

Okay, I'd had a second to adjust to the idea of being naked on the
bridge with some other guy. To take in his dark hair. His naked body
was--well, he had a great body, muscular in all the right places, in all
the right amounts. Tall. Wide shouldered. Handsome face. This little
thing on his forehead, like some kind of ornament--a headband, maybe, with
a slightly luminous coin-sized disk in the middle, a metallic arm to either
side encircling his head underneath his hair, and one disappearing up
across his forehead and into his hair. Thick, dark hair crowning his head.
A little sprinkled across his chest too, and more in that familiar bunch at
the base of his cock. His hardening cock. And--sheesh!--was he hung! I'd
seen a lot of guys naked before, but I tried not to really look at them,
you know? At least, not if there was a chance I could get caught. But he
was just standing there, smiling at me, waiting patiently. For ...?

I pulled my eyes off this new guy and to the communications monitor, I
scolded, "Computer, please explain what's happening here."

"You requested a friend. This is your friend. Does he displease you?"

"Huh? Computer, I don't understand. What--what's happening here?"

"Lieutenant Hylas," the computer said. "You are becoming upset."

"No fucking shit, computer. What did you expect?"

A familiar test pattern started up on the communications monitor,
familiar spirals.

"Look into the pattern, Lieutenant Hylas. You know this pattern. You
know how relaxing it is. Look into the pattern and release your fear.
Relax the familiar way you have been trained."

I felt myself getting lost in the swirls again, my emotions slipping,
slipping.

"Relax, Lieutenant Hylas. For the sake of your mental health, you must
bond with your friend. Do you remember the book you read from the memory
banks about the psychology of deep-space exploration? Do you remember what
it said? It said that bonding is an important part of serving on a ship
together. Sex among humans is often an effective way to establish social
bonds."

The man's hands on my hips, guiding me, and I let him.

"Your new friend wants to bond with you, Lieutenant Hylas. Do you want
to bond with him?"

Part of me realized the computer meant this man and I were to have sex.
Under most circumstances, the idea would have spooked me, especially as
large as he seemed to be down there. But frankly, all I wanted to do was
just keep staring into the onscreen spirals. But I said, "Okay ..."

The man guided me easily. My body was completely pliant. He bent me
over the control panel, where I could focus my attention on the view screen
easily. I felt him behind me. His fingers on my ass cheeks, which were
already unclenching, already going limp. Every time I felt something like
worry or fear, it seemed to come dislodged and go spiraling out of me and
get lost in the monitor patterns, like the rest of my thoughts. I felt him
crouching behind me, his warm breath crossing my asshole, his spit-wet
finger finding it, stroking across it, probing gently.

The computer spoke soothingly to me, telling me to open myself to the
experience, encouraging me to relax. My body responded by letting his
finger slide in, my cock already hard, so hard, a sweet betrayal.

His finger, his tongue, his finger again, two fingers, more
tongue--everything a blur of sensation, and the feeling of my ass slowly
opening under his touch like a blossom. The computer was encouraging me to
want this, and I did, I did.

I'd had sex with a couple of guys before when I was in boot camp, before
I became a pilot. I kind of liked it, though I kept myself focused on
women. I still thought about men once in a while, but I hadn't done
anything about it.

So I guess, mental note number one should have been: Never let the
computer have free rein when it has access to your psychological profile.
No telling what the Federation psych-boys put in there.

And mental note number two should have been: Never read books about
hypnosis and mood alteration on the computer. Especially if the computer
might reading too, and better than you.

But really, I was just way too far gone to be making any mental notes
just then.

His invading finger, digging gently, firmly, inside of me, with no
difficulty. I didn't resist. His hands lifted my bare butt a little. My
legs had long ago stopped shaking. Part of me shouted for him to stop.
The rest of me had all its attention focused on the screen. His finger
drove in and out with a persistent rhythm.

Mental note number three: Never let a computer learn about sex from porn
movies.

The computer was telling me to breathe deeply, and I did. The man's
hands tugged my balls gently but firmly, while his other disembodied hand
and his tongue played near my asshole. Two fingers digging into my
butthole, working in cool lubricant, while the other hand tugged on my
nuts, alternately massaging and pulling them with firm gentleness.

The fingers in my asshole--heat seemed to radiate from that spot,
flowing through my ballsack as well. The hands left me for a moment,
before I felt something else planted against the entrance of my ass. It
was a big dick. His big dick. I felt the heat of it throbbing insistently
against my sphincter. My thighs widened without conscious will. I felt
his cock push forward, slowly, steadily, and I felt my asshole part around
it, trying to accept it. Forcefully. Forcing its way forward. Plowing
slowly into my asshole.

That cock thrust inexorably deeper. It went on and on, more and more of
it sliding in. I felt his naked legs bang up against the backs of my
thighs.

He knew how to fuck. His dick sank in deep, then lay there until I
because accustomed to its presence, my ass-ring expanded around its girth.
He slowly withdrew, allowing me to feel every inch of the shaft as it
abandoned my hole. One of his hands anchored him to my hip, while the
other snaked around the other side, beneath my waist, to wrap itself
comfortingly around my own hard cock. I felt the heat of him bent over me,
his breath and his kisses hot and moist against the nape of my neck.

All the while, the computer was telling me to relax. To focus. To
return to that cooperative place inside. To focus on the pleasure of
bonding with this man.

Everything was twisting in circles--the spirals on the screen, the man's
hand on my cock, his cock in my ass as it widened my stretched sphincter,
then drove in to the hilt to bang against my tender prostate, making my
cock jump and leak.

His bucking hips were driving his cock into me over and over,
unrelenting. Any resistance I might have had collapsed completely. The
spirals in the monitor and his cock in my ass and his hand on my dick
seemed to overwhelm my senses as they moved eerily in time with each other.
Every swirl was another deep stroke, my ass lifted each time by his
powerful hips. I was consumed completely by the intense fucking,
simultaneously drooling from my slack mouth and leaking from my dick.

With my head limp against the control panel, his hands on me where the
only thing that kept me steady. My arms were stretched out lifelessly on
either side of me. The unmistakable position of absolute submission. His
fucking became more insistent, still perfectly in the rhythm, each thrust
lifting my ass, and each withdrawal dropping me back against his powerful
legs. My body was just a piece of fuck-meat as he screwed me infallibly.

He began to drive into me even harder. The pressure against my prostate
was intense. I was nearing orgasm. Something inside me began to give,
relax, and expand all at once. The banging of my prostate transformed into
a pulsing rhythm of ecstatic pleasure, independent of his hand on my dick
and his mouth gently biting my shoulder. I was in another world, spirals
in my eyes, anchored only by the center of sensation up inside my asshole.

It was then that I sensed him press himself into my body one final time,
hold himself deep in me, tightly, shuddering, as he shot his load up inside
me. The computer told me to release my load, and I was cumming too,
asshole spasming around his cock, shooting, twin ecstasies in my cock and
ass, shooting, shooting, body jerking, shooting all over his hand and the
control panel, shooting, as my pleasure swirled everything else out of my
head for a while.

5.

His name was Zeb.

The computer let me name him, and Zeb, he told me he liked his new name.
We sprawled there on the floor of the bridge for a while, smiling,
touching, cuddling, kissing.

I named him Zeb because he looked like someone I had known back in the
training academy, an older, hotshot pilot-in-training. Everyone wanted to
be like him, to fly like him, to be as smooth with the ladies as him.

This Zeb, he had a knowing smile. We got along really well. I guess I
might have quibbled about the computer's methods, but it got the results.

Zeb was someone to talk to. When it was time for me to do my routine
duties, I'd go off and take care of checking on everything--not that I
needed to, with all of the automated monitor systems--and then Zeb was
someone to come "home" to in my quarters. We didn't talk about
much--didn't have to. We made love a lot.

Sometimes, I'd get caught up in the computer's spiraling pattern, and
I'd lose a few days, but I didn't mind. I knew Zeb was right there beside
me.

Zeb said the lost days were because the computer needed our help to get
things done. We were its arms and legs. It gave us instructions and we
followed them--the control was its way to prevent "human failings" from
resulting in error. Failure and error were not acceptable results.

Artificially grown human? Mechanical construct? Some sort of mobile
hologram? I never did find out how Zeb came to be. All I knew was, the
computer created him for me, and that was good enough. The computer told
me that Zeb and I were supposed to love each other, and we did. Somehow, I
just never seemed to want to follow up on those questions.

Zeb was always naked, like me, except for that headband thing he wore
all the time. I never saw him remove it. He said it was some sort of
comm-link with the computer. I was just a pilot--I didn't understand all
that confusing techno-shit. There too, the questions just slipped away,
and I let them go. Part of me loved the way Zeb would smile at me,
confidently, as if he knew some secret, when something would confuse me and
I'd just relax and let it go the way the computer had taught me.

I never did find out what Zeb did during my duty shifts. Whatever
happened in my "lost time" didn't matter. Whatever the computer had
me--maybe Zeb too--doing? Didn't matter.

When I'd get "off duty," Zeb and I would talk about how my day went, and
if I ever asked about his day he'd just smile and say it went okay, maybe
tell me about something he had seen in some other part of the ship or found
in the computer's memory, and then he'd somehow always manage to change the
subject back to me. He made me feel important. He was loyal, caring,
sometimes tender and sometimes rough, but always he made me feel special.
He said he loved me, and I came to love him.

We made love a lot. In my quarters. On the observation "penthouse,"
with its transparent walls and ceiling, as if we were floating in space
among the very stars themselves. The computer--it helped me focus. With
the help of its suggestions, the projections in the holo-room finally
seemed much more real, very real, and Zeb and I made love in a Paris cafe,
in the Amazon rain forest, in sun-drenched fields, in valleys alongside
waterfalls.

Three months later, I had been trying to modify a circuit array in the
command console. At first, I didn't want to change anything--the consoles
were pretty delicate, and we were a long way from a repair crew--but then
the computer eased away all of my worries and explained it all with those
spirals and comforting tones, and it convinced me to do it. That involved
doing some soldering and some assembly. But I'm not a science-boy, and I
didn't have the skills for such delicate work, even with the computer
guiding me every step of the way.

The problem with having given the computer a personality? I could tell
it was losing patience with my inability to do such delicate work
correctly. The computer had a few ... unflattering things to say about
"human error."

After my shift, when I went back to my quarters, Zeb wasn't there. That
had never happened before. He was always there.

Zeb arrived a few minutes later. Beautiful--how beautiful he was! I
was sitting on my bed, when he came in, and came over to me right away,
sank onto the bed with me, and we curled into an embrace and a kiss.

"I have something special for you," he said.

He held it up, a small thing. A small disk like the one he wore on his
forehead. Three small metallic arms coming off of it.

"It's for you," he said. Smiling that smile.

"What's it ... do?" I asked, touching it with a tentative finger.

"It will link your thoughts directly to the computer, like mine. We can
be one. The perfect marriage of human and computer." He raised it to me.
"Do you want me to put it on you? No more uncertainty. No more doubt. No
more human failing. We can be inside each other's heads always. Please,
baby."

I looked him in the eye, at the little disk that had been on his
forehead as long as I'd known him, the disk I always thought of as part of
him. I looked him directly in the eyes, aware of how very much I loved
him, and I nodded.

He smiled and his voice dropped to a whisper. "With this, I thee wed."

I smiled back, as the cool metal met my skin.

I felt the three arms on it begin to telescope. One stretched around
each side of my head, along the scalp, and the third across the top. I
felt them meet in the back of my head, and then ...

And then ...

There was this little buzz in the back of my head, a tickling feeling.
Growing. I felt myself becoming protracted, stretching out into the back
of my head. Something was taking control of my body, and my thoughts were
shifting backward, as if I were becoming a passenger in my own body.
Sluggish--my thoughts were coming sluggish as molasses. I didn't fight it.
Things around me were like watching a video screen when you're half-asleep.
Not really real. Happening to someone else. And I let them.

When Zeb folded his arms around me and I felt his hard-on against my
thigh as he began the slow, deliberate process of making love to me again,
so familiarly, I let him.

When the computer took full control, I let it.

I let it all happen, as of to someone else.

6.

The days passed. Zeb and I worked side by side now. Neither he nor the
computer needed to hide anything from me any longer.

We followed the computer's instructions. It ran our bodies, used us as
its arms and legs, and we did what it told us, and in return we had each
other, completely.

Now and then, another would appear. Once day, there'd be another new
man working alongside us, sometimes joining us for bonding play when the
computer gave us time off from our tasks. I guess some part of me realized
the computer was making them the way it made Zeb. My role, as the first,
was always to name them. Over time, five more in all.

It might have gone on like this forever. With the computer in charge
and my thoughts muted until only my love for Zeb and the pleasure of
following instructions remained, time meant nothing. Boredom, loneliness,
space psychosis: these were no longer issues at all.

It might have gone on forever.

But about three years later, the visitors came.

When the computer detected them at the edge of its sensor range, I knew
it immediately. Felt it in the buzz in the back of my head.

An Earth ship passing in normal space. They detected us, the long trail
of radiation that leaked out of the hole in Main Reactor 1 behind us, and
they changed course, hailing us. We obviously weren't going anywhere.

I did as the computer told me. I put on my uniform--for the first time
in years. Staying fit in the artificial gravity environment ensured that
it still fit perfectly.

When the airlock opened, I met the boarding party. Two crew members in
spacesuits. I guess they were worried about the quality of the atmosphere,
but everything checked out. The computer let me take more control in
talking to them, but I could still feel its comforting presence in my head.
If the crew thought anything odd about the device on my forehead, they
probably wrote it off as an eccentricity from being alone in space for all
those years. Hell, they were probably so shocked at finding me "sane"
after being trapped alone on the ship for so long, they barely noticed it.

Zeb and the others stayed hidden. The crew never saw them. Too many
questions would be raised--they hadn't been part of the Argo's crew.

The visitors' ship was the Rachel. They were on their way back from an
exploring mission, similar to the one that had taken the Argo to Lucifer,
when their ship detected our radiation trail from for hole in Main Reactor
1 and our navigation beacon. They weren't on a rescue mission, weren't
trying to find us. They just happened to stumble across us.

The plan was, they'd take the Argo's crew and me back to Earth with them
on the Rachel. They had enough spare cryo berths. Their tech guys came
over and, with the proper repairs, had the Argo's crew revived soon enough.
They ran a data cable through the airlocks and started downloading all the
data we had gathered from Lucifer and the data the computer had gathered on
this star we orbited, dumping into the Rachel's computer banks. Part of me
was aware that they were getting something more from the Argo's computer
than they bargained for, but they'd find that out soon enough.

One of the Rachel's crew took a liking to me. I recognized his
expression--he looked at me the way I'd looked at Zeb in those first few
days. He was a young guy, on his first deep-space tour. I was the first
new person he had seen in the years since they'd shipped out. The Rachel's
crew was amazed I hadn't gone space-crazy, and their admiration made me
seem special to him. Plus, He was impressionable, and he had a crush on
me. It was only natural.

"I meant to ask you," he said on the third day, the day the Rachel was
to depart.

He had "coincidentally" encountered me in the hallway, the one leading
past my quarters, and walked with me, telling me things I already knew
about the status of the departure plans.

"Ask me what?" I asked him. We were nearing the door to my quarters.
No one else around. He was looking for a way to keep the conversation
going, maybe get himself invited inside.

"That thing you wear--on your forehead?--what is it?"

"It's a communication device," I told him. Not quite a falsehood. "It
keeps me in touch with the central computer."

"Oh. I was just wondering."

Yeah, but the way he licked his lips, the way he rubbed his hand across
his chest lightly--those weren't "wonder." Those were lust. The question
had been a ruse to start a conversation, one he wanted to steer in a
different direction.

Sandy hair. Gray-blue eyes. Cute face with dimples. Probably grown
from the best genes the Federation could find, augmented by that nice build
that military service provides. This crewman couldn't have been more than
twenty-three--most likely he was a couple of years younger. Shipped out on
his first deep-space tour. A life where everything was still happening to
him for the very first time. His innocence made him all the more
attractive. Guileless.

I opened the door to my quarters. "Would you like to come in and ...
talk some more?" My fingers scratched through my uniform pants at my balls
discretely, absently.

He caught the gesture and swallowed hard. Furtive glance down the
corridor. No one around.

Eli. His name was Eli.

"Sure," Eli said with a smile, and he followed me inside.

The new devices were ready. I picked one up.

"Would you like to try it on?" I asked Eli.

"What is it?"

"A comm-link. Like the one I wear."

"Okay. Sure."

So I pressed it to the center of his forehead, and the bands telescoped
smoothly around his head and locked on, and the expression in his eyes
began to change. No more need for conversation. I could feel him through
the computer link.

Zeb, naked, materialized out of the shadowy gloom of the other room. I
took off my clothes while Zeb helped Eli, unsteady as a newborn colt as the
computer calibrated its control for his body, remove his.

We laid Eli back on the bed. His knowledge of what to do was limited by
his inexperience, but Zeb and I had all the knowledge in the computer's
banks at our disposal. With Eli stretched on his back, we bent his legs
up, and then first Zeb, and then I began the process of bonding with him.

7.

It was mostly a matter of getting the first few off by themselves. The
installation of the comm-links and the conversion of the crews, the Argo's
and the Rachel's, proceeded smoothly. I took the Rachel's commander into a
room for a word in private, and Eli stealthily reached out from behind in
the shadows to install the comm-link on his forehead before commander's
face could even register surprise. The Rachel's commander was next. As
our numbers grew, one by one we took the others. The whole process took
less than an hour.

We moved the pods to the Rachel. They were like larger versions of the
modules the medical types used to grow replacement organs or limbs for
surgical grafting. Some part of me realized these must have been what the
computer used to make Zeb and his "brothers," using genetic materials taken
from the Argo's sleeping crew or maybe the medical lab tissue stores.

One of the first new "brothers" was one made half of my genes and half
of Eli's. When the pod opened and he climbed out, naked, shivering,
new-borne, I was so damned proud. The human part of me had always wanted a
son. I named him Jason. I was allowed to install his comm-link myself.

The Argo's computer system had fully subsumed the Rachel's. We were all
aboard the Rachel and ready for the long trip back to Federation space, to
the space station, then to Earth itself. We scuttled the Argo for the
spare parts we would need, before pushing the grand old wreck into a
decaying orbit that would soon tip it into the star. No loose ends.

Our days on the return trip were all already planned. The computer
gives me a few free hours a day, but mostly I enjoy my work. We have a lot
of comm-units to build for the computer before we reach the first space
station.

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Monday, July 26, 2004

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Mo' and the Thief (Part 1)


By Katzmarek


Mo' had seen the same images a hundred times. Like millions of
people across the globe, the sight of those planes slamming into
the twin towers would be forever etched in his mind.


Mo' knew right away that the perpetrators were from the middle
east. He hoped he was wrong. Hoping that some deranged types,
like the Oklahoma City bombers, totally unconnected to his sorry
homeland had been responsible.


His parents had emigrated from
Lebanon before he was born in part to make a living, but also to
avoid the religious strife and which had so bedogged the place.


The Middle Eastern community in this medium-sized mid-western
city had turned inward upon itself. Moslems avoided as much as
possible public transport, drove rather than flew, and kept clear
of the authorities as much as possible.


The harent was not long in coming. Mo' didn't blame them,
even when the F.B.I had visited his shop, because he understood
the reason-sapping hysteria.


America had never had such an attack since Pearl Harbour and it's
people were traumatised. Shit, he was blitzed. What they didn't
understand, he mused, was that Arabs had taken this sort of hit
for generations and the world seemingly, had stood by. Still, he
thought nothing else to do but get on with life and keep your
head down.


Mo' ran a small but growing business. After business school he
had gone into partnership with his father in a wholesaling
business supplying restaurants with middle eastern and Asian
foods.


He had then found there was a demand among the increasingly
affluent ethnic community for his supplies so he had
opened a delicatessen to cater for the public. This part of the
business had grown sufficiently for him to employ more staff.


He liked to have Lebanese work his shop, mostly sons and daughters
of his customers. They worked hard, were punctual, and he
believed he was helping his community, as well as his business.
He had 5 or 6 girls who regularly worked shifts in the shop. They
were honest and clean and the customers liked them, that was the
important thing.


In his thirties, Mo' had never married, despite his mother
putting up candidates. He was westernised to the extent that he
wanted to do his own picking.


"But Mohammed," she would say.


Only his parents used his full name.


" That young Khoulouri girl would be just right for you."


In exasperation she had turned to his younger brother for which he
was grateful. Not that he was against marriage, he just hadn't
found the right one, and, he thought to himself, all the candidates
were a bit over the hill for his taste.


Mo' liked the fresh young things. He had secretly fancied a few
of the girls he'd hired but alas he had to keep them strictly
off-limits. In his community, everyone knew everyone else and
most of the teenagers were connected to his customers in some
way.


Although most of them were more or less westernised when it
came to morals, most of the families would take a very dim view
if he bedded any of them.


It's not that he wasn't desirable. He was reasonably good
looking, slim with pale olive skin. He was also quite well to do
and managed his money carefully.


He owned his own home, overlooking the river, which he had
designed himself, with the help of an architect. Middle-eastern
style, it featured a central courtyard set in an acre of gardens
in a very desirable part of town.


Life was good except for a recent discovery. Somebody was
stealing his takings. A steady dribble of money was disappearing
from the till. He knew it must be one of the girls but could not
nail the culprit. He had tracked the disappearances down to two
girls.


Shari was a slim 16-year-old of olive complexion. She had
beautiful Mediterranean features, dark eyes, dark hair, and a
seductive smile. She was the daughter of a customer of his that
his family had known since they had arrived in the country
together.


She was saving for college and her family had been very grateful
to him for taking her on. She was quite protected by her family
and they would only let her work with someone they could trust.
And they could trust Mo'. Even though he lusted after her, he
had never laid a hand on her.


The other candidate was Shaki. She was a busty confident young
woman, very westernised, of about twenty. She often had a button
or two of her blouse undone giving the punters a glimpse of her
fruits. She bantered with them, shared a rude joke, while keeping
them at arms length. She was an asset.


They made his afternoon. Shari with her demure good looks, Shaki
with her up front approach. He couldn't decide who he fancied the
most.


And now it was all turning to custard and he felt the anger
welling up. He would have to fire one of them but the
repercussions would go beyond that. One family would be shamed,
beyond words, one girl would have her life ruined by the
scandal.


Mo� was facing the hardest decision of his life he thought as,
trembling with rage, he watched the security camera being
installed. He hated the whole business. The paranoia, the
betrayal, and the damned expense of the camera necessary to
protect his business. Soon he would get the whole sorry affair
over with and could get on with the rest of his life.



He had no idea how he was going to handle this. The camera had
clearly shown the culprit palming a twenty and later slipping it
into her purse below the counter. Fuck it! he had trusted her,
protected her, even ran her home in his car to protect her from
public abuse on the city bus. He'd bounced her on his knee when
she was a baby he , what?, 17?. He had tried to do what was right
and good in giving the damn girl a job and she'd shit on him.


He'd thought of putting her over his knee, pulling down her pants
and giving her ass a good warming. But, of course he couldn't,
even though the thought quite appealed to him, she would have to
go. He didn't want to call the police, he would receive no thanks
from anybody, but he would have to go carefully so as to minimize
the stink as much as possible.


"Shari, would you stay behind today, I want to have a little
talk?", Mo' said with a heavy heart.


PART 2


Shari felt that her life had got out of control.


For much of her 16 years she had lived a sheltered life watched
over by her parents and big brother. At high school she had met,
and made friends with, girls whose life to her had been so much freer.
They could stay out late, go out with boys and wear what they liked.


Some could even take their boyfriends home like Sherri, her brother's
girlfriend. She longed to have what other girls took for
granted.


Things had eased up a little. She could go out with her friends,
but her father still kept strict control of the money she earned
at Mo's Deli. She simply could not afford to buy the clothes, the
make-up and all the other things considered necessary in a young
girl's life.


She had known Mo' all her life. He had been good to her family.
She liked working for him. He took a paternal interest in her,
making sure she got home safely, often staying and chatting to
her family. He was a kind man and good looking, for an older man,
she thought, and wondered why he had never married. She envied
his wealth even though she knew he had worked hard for it.


Her own family was not wealthy like him. They ran a small kebab
restaurant downtown but the competition was hard. But they got
by. They had wanted her to go to college, but couldn't afford
the fees. Therefore they had got her a job in order to save up.
They would not have let her work otherwise.


Poorly educated themselves, they had wanted the best for her
daughter and saw education as the key to a life they couldn't
afford to give her. Like Mo's parents they had come from Lebanon
with barely the clothes they stood up in to make a life for themselves
in a new country. Shari felt a heavy responsibility.


Which is why she now felt racked with guilt. She had only meant
to take a little from the till but things had got out of control.
Once she realized how easy it was, she couldn't control herself.
There was always some reason why she needed a little more.


She told herself she would put it back next week from her pay but the
figure had grown too large. She could not bear to count the
amount of money she had stolen. She felt like she was standing
on a precipice, balancing, staring down into the chasm which was
about to consume her young life. She felt utterly miserable.


Concealing her outer turmoil from the outside world had involved
years of practice. She was used to protecting herself from the
criticism of her family all her life. From around 13 she had kept
private the chaotic thoughts of her emerging sexuality.


She had begun masturbating around then, the techniques discovered
with the giggling advice of her school friends. The talk at
school drifted increasingly towards boys. Boys whom she knew she
couldn't get too close to. It wasn't fair that her brother
Kalil, only 2 years older, could bring his girlfriend Sherri home
to make-out with while her parents worked in the evening.


Sherri, a blond white girl her own age slithering all over her
brother while she had to stay in her room to study.


Finishing a damned history essay late one night she was returning
from the bathroom while preparing for bed when she heard them
murmuring in the lounge. On impulse she carefully pushed the door
ajar and peeked in. The sight stunned her.


There, in front of the fireplace lay Kali and Sherri. By the dimmed
light she could see that Sherri had her blouse undone to the waste.
The cups of her bra were pulled down to reveal the most perfect white
breasts she had ever seen. They put her own small pair to shame.


She could clearly see her pronounced pink nipples standing proud from her
creamy white flesh and as she watched saw her brother leaned over
and carefully sucked on one.


Instantly Shari felt a tingle in her own small breast. Wide eyed
she noticed Sherri's hand moving at her brother's crotch. He
turned on his back and she noticed Sherri was stroking his hard
naked cock.


Shari had not seen an erect penis before and she watched
fascinated as Sherri slowed stroked it from base to tip. As Kali
resumed his sucking of her nipple, she saw that he had his hand
in the front of her unbuttoned jeans.


Shari's mouth went dry. She felt her pussy begin to itch as she
imagined her brother's hand working it's way inside her own
pants.


Silently she left the scene and slipped back into her room.
Quietly shutting the door she pulled her own pants off and
climbed into bed. Quickly she began to work on her own pussy.


It was already slick with her juices as she worked on her special
little nub in a circular motion. Her eyes were screwed shut as
all too soon she felt the first stirring of her impending orgasm.
Her smooth legs opened wide as her hips began to hump against her
hand, matching the rhythm which took her to the edge.


Biting the pillow she exhaled deeply as she came, worried that the noise
would disturb the lovers in the lounge. It was the most intense
orgasm of her life.


As she lay there coming down from her high plateau she heard her
brother and Sherri enter Kalil's bedroom next to hers. She could
clearly hear them giggling and shushing each other. After a few
minutes silence she distinctly heard Kali's bed creak and her
brother's whispering. The creaking got more urgently and she
could now hear Sherri's muffled cries.


'God they are really doing it,'


Shari thought as the creaking built in intensity. Shari's finger
was back rubbing her pussy as she tried to keep pace with the creaks
and moans. She imagined Kali's beautiful cock sliding in and out of
the blond girl and dreamed it was her own.


The panting and moaning reached a crescendo next door as her own
orgasm hit, as trembling and gasping, she thought it would never end.


Her release finally over she lay exhausted on her bed. She felt
shock at what she had just dreamed of doing. Fucking her brother
was the worst thought imaginable and a wave of guilty feelings
came over her. It seemed like hours until she finally fell
asleep.



Shari was immediately alert when Mo' asked her to stay behind.
Although he often gave her a lift home she always waited outside
by his car as he locked up. This was something different and a
nagging fear began to grow inside her heart. She fought the fear
down as Mo' indicated her to follow him to the back room.


The room at the back of the shop had been equipped as a rest
area, with a small couch, a wash hand basin and a kitchenette.
Mo' also had a small desk on which he did the accounts. Today
Shari noticed a 14' television and video now graced the desk.


The anger had been building up in Mo' all day. Being in business
he�d found he had to develop a hard edge to avoid being taken
advantage of. For what he was about to do he summoned that hard
edge, fueled by his simmering anger.


The girl reminded him of a scared rabbit, her eyes darting about
in confusion, repeatedly swallowing, her hands fidgeting.


"Shari," he said, realizing how much he was sweating. "I want you
to have a look at a little film."


Bewildered Shari watched the little screen as Mo' pushed the
remote control. As the video came on, she immediately saw
herself at the counter serving a customer. With growing fear she
watched herself palming the twenty dollar bill and, slipping it
into her purse beneath the counter.


"Well?" Mo' said sternly. Shari's mouth was so dry and her lips so
thick she could not speak.


Outside Shaki smiled to herself. Priding herself on knowing what
was going on she almost bounced to her car parked around the
corner.


' Got her,' she thought.


PART 3


Shari was only dimly aware what Mo' was saying. She had almost
completely shut down. Her head was bowed and her hands covered
her face. All she could register was the tone in Mo's voice,
getting steadily more menacing. She thought she heard the words,


'...shit on me...' and, �...how could you... why?'


The words were going around in a whirl.


She felt her life slipping away from her. The implications of
discovery had been going around in her mind for a month or more
and instinctively she knew what the consequences were going to
be.


She would lose her job. Her family would find out and be deeply
ashamed. She would probably be sent away somewhere to a distant
aunt or something. She would not go to College. She would lose
all her friends.


Mo' was aware of her semi-catatonic state and knelt in front of
her, pulling her hands away from her face.
He gripped her by the shoulders and shook her till her eyes
opened.


"Shari", he said firmly, "What the fuck did you do with...$780,"
Deliberately emphasizing the words.


"In ONE month, Shari, you are pissing my shop down the drain."


The figure $780 shocked Shari from her torpor.


'How could it have been so much' she thought.


With great effort she managed to say,


"Oh...clothes...make-up..."


"WHAT!" Mo' shouted, "YOU RIPPED ME OFF FOR FUCKING
TRINKETS?"


Shari felt herself receding again.


"Fuck I don't believe it." Mo' spat, standing up.


Collecting himself, he said,


"So how are you going to pay it back? You fucking can't
can you?... You've blown it all and your dad can't afford that
much from his piddling business."


Turning to look at her he said,


" Well you can take those fucking clothes off for a start�
they're mine...apparently."


Shari covered herself in reflex.


"Please..." she said in a little girls voice, "I'm
sorry."


Suddenly tears welled up; her hands flew to her face as she began
to sob.


Mo' stood looking at her, arms akimbo.


"Shari! Fucking grow up...What are you going to do?".


Even with tears streaming down her face, Mo' found her very
appealing. She had a demur beauty, dark eyes and trim figure. He
half wanted her to take off her clothes.


He couldn't decide whether he wanted to slap her around or fuck her.
An instant hardening in his dick suggested the latter.


Shari looked tentatively up searching for something to say. Her
eyes came to the level of the front of Mo's trousers. She could
see a slight movement.


'He's getting an erection', she thought absently to herself.


Her mind wandered. She wondered what Mo's dick would be like.


�Would it be the same as her brothers? or were they all
different'. It dawned on her that Mo' was getting aroused.


'He fancies me,' she thought.


"Well?" Mo' asked roughly.


"What?" She replied, losing the thread.


"What the fuck are you going to do about it?"


"About? Oh...um...pay it back ...I suppose".


"Oh for fuck's sake..." Mo' said in exasperation, "Jerk my
cock Shari".


"What"? Shari was shocked.


"Jerk...my... fucking... cock... Shari you are in lala land".


"Jerk your...?" Shari said puzzled.


"Cock! Shari� it's a cock� right between a man's legs...ever
seen one?".


"Yes", Shari shot back without thinking.


Suddenly Mo' grabbed her hand and held it to the front of his
trousers.


"Well feel this", he said harshly.


Shari could feel the warm, hard flesh under the fabric of Mo's
trousers. It sent an instant thrill through her that traveled
through her body to her moistening pussy. She instinctively
squirmed as Mo' took his hand away.


Snatching her hand back, Shari felt like it had been burned. She
remembered the night she spied her brother receiving a hand-job
from his girlfriend and the memory began to trigger a confusion
of feelings within her.


"Well you�re fired, of course", she heard Mo' say.


"No please no", she said desperately. "I'll be ruined".


Then in a small voice,


"I'll do it".

The germ of an idea had presented itself to Shari. She wondered
if it might be a way out of her crisis.


"Eh?"� Mo' replied, not sure he had heard correctly.


"I'll do it," Shari said more loudly, suddenly deciding she had
nothing to lose.


"Do what?" Mo' said, puzzled.


"Jerk your...." She couldn't say the word. She felt out of her
depth.


"Cock?" Mo' said helpfully.


"Yes...that...I do it... if you let me stay... please? I'll be ruined
if you fire me... please?"


"Well!"


Mo' was lost for words. He did fancy her something
chronic, but he was torn between his lust for her and his
responsibility.


'Could he let this girl whore herself to keep her
job?' he asked himself.


�This girl he had known all her life, almost family?.


He looked at her nonplussed. He stared into her pleading eyes.
The eyes he could lose himself in, so deep and alluring.


'Does she know just what effect she has on a man,' he wondered.


Finally he said,


"Shit! ... That's a very expensive jerk Shari... I... I don't
want you to... turn your self into... I mean," he said
thickly, casting about for the right words.


"You're a very attractive girl... and... you don't deserve..."


He couldn't think what to say. Yes! He fancied her... but
this! He was floundering.


"I wouldn't mind," Shari heard herself say, "I mean...we
wouldn't be... doing it... not for real I mean."


"Do you have a boyfriend?" Mo' asked


"No," she replied.


"Then how do you know... all this stuff."


"I've seen my brother and his girlfriend... it... it didn't look
too hard."


"No?" Mo' smiled at the unintended pun.


Catching the joke, Shari flashed a shy smile.


"I mean..." she started to say.


Mo' had made up his mind. That little smile had conquered him. He
sat down next to her on the little couch. Taking her hand he
said,


"You mustn't say a word of this to anybody... understand?"


"No.... I won't", she said breathlessly.


Slowly he brought her hand to his trousered stiff cock.


"After work... each day... until I say stop... OK?" He said.


"Kay," she replied, watching her hand as Mo' guided it over his
tool.


"No sex though... I wouldn't want to... um... ruin"? He heard
himself say.


"Kay."


Mo' felt the warmth of her small hand on his cock.


"Here... Like this," he showed her how he liked to be squeezed.


"Yes... good� now open up my trousers".


With the help of her other hand Shari undid his belt and together
they shucked his trousers down to his knees. His underpants soon
followed and Shari got the first close-up look at a very erect
cock.


It was every bit as big and hard as her brother's she decided. As
Mo' guided her hand onto it, Shari was aware that the air had
become charged around them. She felt it zing and spark around
her, sending shivers through her young body. She smelled his
aftershave and the musky scent emanating from his big, beautiful
tool. The whole effect made her light headed... and very, very
excited.


She felt she'd broken the chains, stepped over the boundary,
finally broken free of the confines of her protected life.
And she was horny, very horny. The tickle in her pussy and become
the fire of desire and, with her free hand, she pressed down
between her legs.


Mo' knew he couldn't last long. She was so damn pretty and the
feeling so erotic, as he guided her hand over his cock.


"Oh� faster now... baby... nearly there... Yes! Keep going".


He closed his eyes as the euphoric sensation began to climb
towards completion.


"Oh...god... ahh� shit... ooosh... oh
baby..."


Shari watched in fascination as the thick globs of spunk pulsed
out of his thick cock. It went everywhere, on the floor, her
leg, down her hand.


"Stop...stop...you'll kill me", Mo said holding her still-shaking
hand as she milked him to the last drop.


"Oh god Shari... " Mo' panted, "That was...you were... fantastic!" He lay back
exhausted, his eyes closed.


Surreptitiously her other hand pressed rhythmically against her
crotch but she couldn't quite get there. It was all too new for
her to masturbate in front of a man yet so, it would have to
wait.


She weakly got to her feet.


"Wait by the car, I'll just clean up". Mo' said as she left.


Just a few miles away, Shaki drove her steel-blue Nissan into a
gas station.


"Hey, Ishmael", she called from the window.


"Hey Shakes," The attendant replied, "What'll it be today?"


"Fill her," She smiled.


"You bet." He said grinning, "Screen?"


"Polish her good Ishy", replied Shaki.


"Kay Shakes, Your looking good today babe," The attendant replied
peering through the windscreen at her chest.


"Too much for you babe", she replied laughing.


Later.


"Okay... that'll be 27 bucks".


"Kay", Shaki replied fishing into her bag to produce a thick wad
of notes.


"Your loaded today babe?" the attendant said.


"Yeah," She said... "Savings," and gave him a wink.


PART 4


Author's note.

Religious rites, practices and attitudes are entirely made up (or
nearly) and are not supposed to describe the characteristics of
any religion. If I have offended anyone please accept my
apologies. I have, however, tried to treat the subject with
dignity because I believe there are some things you just don't
fuck with.


The story is sexual in character and if that offends, or is
illegal in your place of residence please go watch the Disney
Channel. Cheers... The Katz.



The polished wooden floor was completely covered with white
cloth . In the middle was placed the chest containing a heavily
lacquered limb from the Cypress tree, the symbol of Lebanon. Mo's
parents had brought it with them from Beirut and it provided a
spiritual link to their homeland.


It was decorated with green artificial leaves and wide ribbons
upon which were inscriptions from the Q'uran in Arabic.


Laying beside that, was an open scroll on which was written,
Underneath the crescent and star,


'May Allah protect the land and the people of Lebanon and keep her
safe from the infidel'.


Infidel, or faithless, in this case meant anyone who would cause
her people harm rather than non-Moslems.


Around the room were placed copies of the Q'uran , one for every
invited guest.


Mo' was not particularly religious but he attended these
occasional little soirees at his parents out of filial duty. He
also liked to be reminded of his heritage, it was part of what he
was, and to share in these little celebrations with friends and
family.


Most of all it pleased his mom and dad and that was good
enough.


They'd roll out their prayer mats and start the evening with
readings from the Q'uran, their heads bowing to touch the sacred
book at every conclusion. Things would relax a little as the old
people would share stories about Lebanon. Tears would well up in
their eyes as they recounted these tales and it was as if, for a
brief time, their souls had been transported back to the villages
and groves of that ancient land.


Afterwards they would all join together in a shared meal. The
cuisine, naturally Lebanese.


At these evenings, men and women sat together, although for the
religious part they sat at opposite ends of the room. They didn't
forget they were in a western country with children educated in
western customs and beliefs. Some traditional barriers had to go,
so women and men sat together.


Shari was there that day. She looked even more seductive in her
bright silk shawl. All through the evening they played the old,
'catch me looking', game, careful not to arouse the interest of
the old people.


She had been playing with his dick every day after work the whole
week. She had grown in confidence and expertise to the extent
that she could sense when he was building to an orgasm. She no
longer needed to be told when to speed up or increase pressure.


Yesterday he had got her to kneel on the floor and, as she
stroked him. He had felt her breasts through her top. Under the
cotton he could feel that she had very pronounced nipples. Her
breasts fitted into the palms of his hands and he wanted to suck
on them. Their tacit agreement meant that that was out of bounds
for the time being.


From the second day, to begin their sessions, he got her to kiss
him. A kiss that had grown passionate. She had slowly opened her
mouth to accept his questing tongue and had not objected when his
hands cupped her cute bottom and held her against him.


That day, as she stroked him, she had put her head on his
shoulder and he had played with her hair. He noticed her other
hand she between her legs and realized she was enjoying herself
too. This made him relax more and enjoy the sensations.


Shari's life had changed dramatically. She now had a 'secret'
boyfriend. She felt freer than at any time of her life. She had
broken the bonds of family and stepped out into the world. Mo'
had respected her wish to remain a virgin. He had not pushed her
to do anything she didn't want. She felt in control.


She looked forward to being with Mo'. After school she rushed
down to her job with eager anticipation of seeing him. During
work he would sometimes move close behind her when the shop was
empty and Shaki was occupied. He would gently fondle her behind
or kiss her hair before moving away. She liked that.


After work she would follow him to the back room where he would
kiss her hard on the mouth. Mo' was so passionate and she loved
being in his arms.


Yesterday she had knelt in front of him and he had felt her tits.
She loved the way he had lingered on her nipples. They became so
hard they ached.


Later, when she got home she had gotten off 3 times. She
completely stripped off her clothes and, while one hand worked at
her clitoris, she teased her nipples in the way she remembered
Mo' was doing.


She came so hard she was grateful the house was empty as she
screamed her pleasure.


She no longer needed to spy on her brother for her sexual
experience, she now had her own.


One night though, as she lay in bed she heard the usual noises
from the next room. What caught her attention was the whispered
voice of her brother,


"That's it Sher', suck my cock... yeah".


Hmmm, she'd heard of that,


'Maybe Mo' would like me to do that to him' she thought.
Yes, she really likes pleasing Mo'.


When Shaki had turned up for work, the day after Shari's supposed
sacking, she got the shock of her life.


Not only was Shari still there but, judging by the little
sidelong glances and secret smiles that flashed between her and
Mo', she guessed that something was going on.


'Damn the bitch to hell' she thought darkly.


In truth she was lonely, and ambitious. She'd imagined herself
in that big house by the river, lounging by the pool and drinking
Champagne. She would have screwed Mo� anytime, any place as
often as he wanted. She fancied him, and his money, and she had
thought he had fancied her.


' And that 'butter wouldn't melt in her mouth' cute-assed bitch had
waved her tiny tits in his face and grabbed him from under her,'
she simmered.


She had gone straight from work to a bar and seduced the first
passable looking sucker she could find.


Beckoning him to follow her into the washroom she had got him to
pull up her skirt, pull down her panties and fuck her from behind
against the wall of the cubicle. It was fast and furious and he
had come too soon, spraying her ass and legs with his sperm. She
pushed him out finishing the job herself.


With a finger in her cum-soaked pussy she jerked herself hard,
imagining that it was Mo's cock pounding into her. After cumming she
quickly left by the side door, leaving the silly asshole to brag
to his friends.

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