6/21/01 – Mars Lovely
NOTE: The following story contains elements of an adult
nature, and those less than 18 years of age, or those who are offended by
bondage, non-consensual sex, other forms of sex including, but not limited to:
rape, torture, lesbianism, etc. should read no further. All characters are the creation of the
author.
Rachael looks around the
nightclub. “Just as I remember it,” she
softly spoke so that only the Operator could her, as if anyone would have
noticed the beautiful brunette talking to her self among the mob of dancing
college kids. She moved in a vaguely
awkward fashion, in an overly cautious, calculated method. She was still practicing using her nervous
system to command the invisible mesh of nano circuitry that covered her
body. The Operator monitored the
sensory input and occasionally altered her movements. If she stepped on a person’s foot, she would be completely
unaware of the sensation, and the Operator would have to intercede in order
correct the situation.
Before she had been
paralyzed, Rachael had come to this club once before. She and her former boyfriend had drunk and danced the night
away. She looked over to the sound
stage and the platform cage that projected off that, over the crowd. Two girls, one black in matching red vinyl
hot pants and a tank top, the other in tight fitting body dress with a single
shoulder strap, danced provocatively together in the cage. Running their hands along each other’s bodies,
pressing against each other. The pale
one’s dress was riding up from the motions, bunching up along her curvaceous
hips until the crowd could see a quick flashing glimpse of her silky red
g-string. Her friend spun her around so
her face and breasts were pushed up against the cage, and then in an
exaggerated display, began to spank her exposed backside. Mesmerized by the soft-core sex show,
Rachael reached out for the railing in front of her, to brace her self.
One side effect of her new
interface with the nano circuitry, one that she hadn’t shared with the
Operator, was just how quickly she became aroused. Where she still could not feel the physical sensations of her
body without the risk of overloading her nervous system, her libido seemed to
go from zero to sixty in no time flat.
In her mind, she could feel all the sensations of her arousal; her
breasts would tingle and harden. Her
vagina would moisten and throb building towards climax. Her body wouldn’t react at all, but she
could feel it all in her mind. Whether
it was truly a side effect of the enhanced interface with the nano circuitry,
or an over active imagination making up for two years of living in a lonely
prison of unfeeling flesh and blood, it didn’t matter. The Operator didn’t seem to notice anything
with all his sensors and probes, and Rachael wasn’t about to risk losing the
pleasure by clueing him in.
Rachael absently toyed with
the thin shoulder strap of her own black dress she wore over the MASsy suit,
which was similar to a one piece bathing suit, with what might be mistaken for
a silver garter belt and stockings. She
also wore a light jacket to cover the three silver armbands and bracelets that
adorned her arms. The invisible nano
circuitry allowed her to move with speed and skill surpassed the most talented
athletes, but the very visible silver items gave her the incredible strength
she used as MASsy, one of the emerging group Meta human super heroes that
defended the city. She hadn’t been to
thrilled by the name, but in her first encounter with the press after stopping
a bank heist, the Operator, who could at well control her voice, announced it
as her name, and it hit the news papers and stuck. Rachael watched the two girls continue to gyrate to the music and
simulate rough sex for the largely oblivious crowd. As she played with her shoulder strap, she was mentally caressing
her breast, slowing rubbing the nipple through the layers of cloth until it was
erect, and with each breath sliding across the smooth lining of her
costume.
The G-string girl was pressed
up against the cage in mock ecstasy/agony, facing Rachael. Her skin was white, almost light blue and
glowing. The bottom of her dress was
now completely above her hips, which ground back and forth against Hot Pants
hand as she spanked her. Rubbing up and
down against the cage, G-String’s top began to slide down. Within seconds her large pale tits had come
free from the dark dress and pushed through the bars of the cage. She seemed to be glowing under an ultra
violet light, even though there weren’t any near her. Hot Pants stepped to the side, rubbing her pelvis against
G-Strings hip, and then reached through the bars gripping the exposed breast
and pulling on the nipple with her fingers.
G-String cooed in pleasure from the rough handling of her breast, and
extended her leg between Hot Pants legs, to add pressure to the rubbing of her
hip to her girlfriend’s inner thigh.
Oblivious to the fact that her body was actually following her thoughts,
Rachael had slipped her hand inside the top of her dress, and was messaging her
breast to the same beat. She had begun
to rub her leg against the railing she stood near. G-String winked and blew a kiss at her.
In her mind, Rachael was in
the cage with the two women, standing across from the darker skinned Hot Pants,
playing with G-String’s other nipple.
She leaned behind the pale girl to kiss Hot Pants. Their mouths opened and their tongues met,
slowly twisting against one another, darting across each other’s lips, while
subtly lit by G-String’s glowing body.
“Rachael,” the
Operator interrupted, “I hate to break up this moment for you, but if you
can cover yourself up, I’ve got confirmation on tonight’s target…”
She blushed with abject
humiliation, looking down to see her errant hand inside her dress. Fixing herself, she scanned the room. Though the glasses she wore were not as
sophisticated as lenses of her dark blue goggles that she wore in combat, they
contained many of the same advanced technologies. It had locked on to a weapon’s signature in a small crowd on the
far side of the dance floor. The pulse
phase guns emitted constant, low-level energy seepages. Biowulf’s engineers hadn’t worked out that
design flaw before the guns had been stolen a few days before. Rachael’s glasses focused, highlighting the
exact shape of the guns, erroneously thought to be out of sight and hidden
under the long coats and dresses of the thieves. They were a small group of punkers, some wearing cut of military
fatigues, and other in black leather and vinyl outfits.
As Rachael made her was to
the short stairs leading to the dance floor, she notice that several yards
above her head, a transparent, nearly invisible disc floated. This was her remote disc, the means by which
the Operator controlled the MASsy suit.
It barely left a trail through the smoky air, being nearly perfect in it
air dynamic shape. As Rachael moved
through the crowd, the disc remained directly above her, relaying both the
commands from the Operator, and the sensor readings from her body.
“Rachael, I’ve
always tried to remain somewhat out of your personal life,” the Operator
spoke, “but I have to know, just what were you doing there? I mean, I thought I would have
enjoyed the show from those two girls more then you, but apparently not. Just the same, if you want to
share the control of your body when we are out on a job, you have to be
a little more, uhm, discrete with your actions. You’ve got a number of guys watching you
VERY closely now, so the low profile is blown.”
“Well Ops,” Rachael retorted,
“this dress wasn’t very low profile to start with, and in five minutes, those
same guys will be watching some other half drunk woman lap dancing their
buddy.” Rachael’s eyes drifted back to
G-String and Hot Pants, who had finished their show and were climbing out of
the cage and heading off to get drinks at the bar. G-String’s top was back in place, but she hadn’t bothered to pull
the dress back all the way down her legs.
It was easy to follow her movements through the crowd with the eerie
faint aura she emanated. “Those two
will be plenty distracting to the horny testosterone junkies, too…”
Rachael entered the twisting
mass of dancing bodies, keeping a lock on the thieves. “Speaking of low profiles, we’ll look rather
obvious if we bee line through the crowd.”
“And you would suggest?”
“You have any dance routines
programmed into this suit?”
The Operator remained silent
for a moment, “I could try a combat routine with an auditory modifier that
might pass for dancing, if you don’t accidentally kill someone. A glancing blow from MASsy could crush
ribs and if I’m focused on making that program work, I can’t be monitoring your
sensory inputs too. Damn, it is so much
easier in battle mode when you don’t have to worry about hurting innocents …”
“Better idea,” she
interjected, “I can dance. Been awhile
obviously, but I can do the moves while you keep me from knocking the daylights
out of everyone around me.” Rachael
began to sway and find the beat. Dance
steps don’t change that much she thought alternating between some of her old
moves and some she saw other woman doing.
Slowly she made her way around the floor.
“Guessing from the looks
from the other people, I’d say you weren’t that good of a dancer Rachael.” The Operator chortled.
“Two things you vicarious
thrill seeking pain in my ass,” she jabbed back, “One, it has been years, and
B, I can’t feel the beat or the folks around me, I keep bumping people and
missing my steps because of the delay between hearing the music and having my
body move…” Rachael hoped this would be enough to goad Operator into opening
the sensory buffers.
She felt an arch of
electricity along her neck and back. “I’m
going to open it up, a little.
You let me know when you can feel enough to get the beat.”
Yes! She thought as she
became aware of the sensations of her body.
Very lightly she could feel the bodies brushing up against her, the
thumping beat of the music filling the air.
Immediately she was able to improve her dancing. Raising her hands above her head, she laughed
out loud at the feelings and danced with complete abandon. Though she hadn’t had a drink in years,
Rachael felt the lightheaded buzz as if she had been. Not a lot, just enough to really loosen up and forget about
everything but moving in time with the songs.
She danced alone, she moved from partner to partner. Dancing with one
man, then another, followed by a young couple.
Each time getting a little closer, barely touching the first man, but
holding hands and rubbing against both the man and woman at the end. All the time, she was vaguely aware of the
target lock on the gun thieves, but totally unconcerned with reaching them.
“Oh Rachael,” the
Operator began, before a sharp shriek ripped into her ear. She spun her head
upwards in time to see her disc float to close to close to a speaker. Whether it was the intense sonic resonance
or the magnets in the speaker, the disc wobbled, and then plummeted to the
floor. It shattered and the dancers’
feet quickly dispersed the pieces across the floor as if it had been a broken
beer bottle. For a moment Rachael felt
fear. Without the disc and its
transmissions, she would fall to the floor helplessly paralyzed. But as the song carried on, she continued
dancing. Apparently she had enough
control on the neural interface to keep herself going.
In the middle of the surging
crowd, she was finally alone in her head.
Her fright dissipated, as she twirled and stepped to the song. An intense feeling of joy washed over her
and she cast aside these thoughts and focused only on dancing. Lost in the heated pleasure, she didn’t
notice the arrival of G-String and Hot Pants.
G-String nodded at Hot Pants, who stepped between Rachael and the random
guy she had been dancing with. Hot
Pants, whose massive chest was barely contained in the tiny vinyl tank top,
began to shake her chest and step in close to Rachael. Except for a sense of happy recognition,
Rachael, barely acknowledged the dark beauty as they danced and brushed against
each other. The moments of contact started
off brief, but quickly became more deliberate and prolonged. Her hands held onto Rachael’s hips and
synchronized their gyrations. Their
stomachs were pressed against one another swaying back and forth. Hot Pants’ breasts, which were much larger
then Rachael’s, rubbed back and forth.
The vinyl sliding across her silky top teased her nipples until they
were little bullets, clearly visible in the sheer material. Before tonight, Rachael had never really
touched another woman this way. In her
brief encounter with Plasmatrix, she had felt the stimulation from the
villianess’ fire, but now, she was dancing and stroking a woman, an exotically
beautiful black woman and loving every second of the brilliantly intense
sensations of their bodies in motion together.
“I’m Cassandra,” she
whispered loudly in her ear, as her hands slid from Rachael’s hip, along her
ribs and finally to the outside of her breasts. Cassandra’s thumbs gently rubbed Rachael’s hard nipples through
the top of her dress.
“Ra..” Rachael could barely
get her name out over the storm of sexual desires running through her, “chael…”
“Rachael” a voice from
behind her said, as two new hands made their way up the outside of her
legs. They continued to move up, under
her dress, lifting it as they came to rest on her hips. From both sides, Rachael felt the warm
pressure of the women stroking and caressing her body. The nano circuitry covering her skin,
completely undetectable by those touching her, relayed every touch, every
exploratory grope to her sex-starved mind.
G-String’s faintly iridescent hands moved both back across Rachael’s
ass, fondling it, tracing lazy lines along the edge of her under suit, while
her other hand did the same to her crotch.
G-String skillfully kept the flowing material of Rachael’s dress lifted,
exposing her actions to anyone who cared to look. Rachael felt a heat building between her legs; she felt the
moisture inside dampen the front of her suit as G-String continued to masterfully
work her fingernails across the now overly sensitive skin. Her knees grew weak, but Cassandra long
powerful leg moved between her own, supporting her, while applying even more
pressure to her over heated crotch. In
a seemingly choreographed move, Cassandra pulled both Rachael’s jacket, and the
straps to her dress from her shoulders, revealing her bronze tan shoulders and
upper chest. At the same moment,
G-String pushed her fingers through the side of Rachael’s underwear, gathering
it together and pulling up between her cheeks.
The smooth cloth pressed across Rachael’s wet pussy in a slightly
painful, but stimulating wedgie. She
clamped her legs around Cassandra’s dark thigh, reaching one hand forward
around the black woman’s waist, and the other hand back to grasp G-Strings’ ass
and squeeze.
Rachael was lost in the
pleasure of it. Her legs rubbed against
Cassandra’s thighs, and the friction was causing her wet pussy to clench on the
bunched fabric that G-String held tight against it. G-Strings’ other hand rubbed against her engorged clitoris just
above Cassandra’s leg. Cassandra’s
hands had, through their slow circling motions opened the top of Rachael’s
dress to let slip the top edge of her dark brown areoles, as her thumbs would
slip inside the dress to stroke Rachael’s nipples, which blazed with delight
from the ministrations. Rachael felt
the combination of frictions and pressure building towards and orgasm,
something she hadn’t felt and years, and desperately wanted to fell now.
Somewhere in the deep
recesses of her mind, Rachael could almost hear the Operator’s voice speaking
to her. They had talked, he had warned
her about her mind not being able to cope with the sensory overload should she
suddenly regain all feeling in her numb body.
She knew that this was it. If
she couldn’t resist this, she would surely break down from the pounding
sensations that tore through her body, but yet, she couldn’t stop, it felt too
good to stop.
Suddenly Cassandra stepped
back. She fixed Rachael’s dress so it
again covered her stiff nipples and aching breasts. She was spun around, dazed and confused by the absence of the
loving touches. She found her self face
to face with the glowing woman.
“Rachael, my name is
Lethe. Cassandra and I are going out
that door,” her eyes broke contact for a moment to indicate a back door. In that second Rachael was able to notice a
warning in her glasses. The word
“NECRONERGY” flashed with the indicator highlighting the faint blue light
around Lethe. “Will you join us?”
Suddenly she was gone. Still dazed by the cold absence of the hands
that had her burning with desire seconds ago, Rachael scanned the room. Lethe was pressing Cassandra against the
wall, locked in a passionate kiss. She
stopped and turned back to Rachael.
As longing began to swirl over
her mind again “NECRONERGY” flashed on the screen inside her glasses
again. “What the hell is that?” Rachael struggled to form the question in
her clouded thoughts. Even as she
surrendered to the yearning and began to walk towards the couple, a second
warning flashed in her view “WEAPONS SIGNATURE LOCKED.”
Lethe and Cassandra slipped
out the door as the five punk woman passed between Rachael and the objects of
her desire. Their hidden weapons
clearly outlined under their garments.
As the leader of the thieves pulled the weapon from under her coat, and
began to yell “Kill the…” Rachael instinctively sprung into action.
Before the green haired
leader finished her lethal command, Rachael had ripped the dress from her body
and switched her glasses for the blue goggles from her coat as she threw it to
the ground. Commanding the MASsy suit on her own for the first time, she sprung
over the amazed crowd and drove a crushing punch to the chest of the gun
wielding woman. Ribbed cracked as she
fell backwards from the blow, smashing through a table surrounded by startled
club goers. A spinning kick caught the
second thieve in the back of the neck and she dropped unconscious on the spot. Panicked, the three remaining punk chicks
tried to pull their weapons free from there hiding spots.
Approaching the center girl,
MASsy leapt up delivering sidekicks to the flanking girls faces. Lip rings flew in a spray of spittle and
blood as the both spun and fell in opposite directions. For a brief second the remaining thief stood
facing MASsy’s drenched crotch. “Damn,
she’s all worked up!” the gun thief thought, as they impacted against each
other. MASsy landed, pinning the girl’s
head between her thighs. Her juices
spattered across the punk’s heavily made-up face as they hit the ground. The heroine raised one hand, and with her
palm drove her opponent’s head into the ground. Which a sickening “THUNK,” the fight was over.
Standing she surveyed the
scene. Over a hundred witnesses to a
five second fight. That ought to make
the morning news, MASsy thought.
Across the club, the main
doors burst open and police, both regular and Special Tactics Units poured
in. In the split second that, in almost
perfect synchronicity, the crowd looked at the police racing in, MASsy sprinted
to the door, and dashed outside. The
chilly night air splashed against her like a bucket of water. Her nipples ached as they hardened in
response to the temperature change, and the crotch of her outfit, soaked with
her fluids felt uncomfortable cold and wet.
She still felt a twinge of the passion from before, but like some dream,
it was fading fast.
She looked around the alley
for the women. But they were nowhere to
be seen.
Off in the distance, she
heard what sounded like Cassandra crying out.
The goggles instantly switched to night vision. Several hundred yards down, MASsy saw
something she couldn’t understand. As she
ran towards Cassandra, it appeared that a monstrously huge snake had coiled
around her dark lover, and half swallowed another woman. “Lethe!”
MASsy screamed covering the distance in seconds.
As she closed in, she
realized in wasn’t Lethe in the maw of the snake, but another woman. It was a blonde woman wearing only leather
straps across her chest, connected by a gold O-ring between her large
breasts. She wasn’t being swallowed,
but rather, was somehow part of the snake.
As MASsy neared, the snake woman’s greenish yellow eyes flashed at her.
“Stay back!” She commanded. “These creatures will destroy me and corrupt your soul if I do
not stopped them now!”
MASsy realized that both
Cassandra and Lethe were entangled in the coils of the giant snake.
“Rachael!” They both called
out, “Help us!”
MASsy’s goggles, infinitely
more advanced the glasses worn earlier, flashed the “NECRONERGY” warning. Unlike before, the warning was followed by
“Undead presence detected, Vampire/Ghoul types – engaging filters”. A slight wash of colors ran over MASsy’s
view. The details of Cassandra’s
beautiful features were corrupted by a hellishly animated corpse’s face. Patches of discolored skin mottled her face
and body.
Lethe, however, remained as
alluring as before. Her blue glow was
now filtered to a white light. Her
voice no longer seemed to carry the same provocative and commanding presence as
inside the club. Her piercing green
eyes seemed hollow now, empty.
“Lamia you bitch!” Lethe screeched, “I don’t know how by
blocked my control on that club slut, but you can’t stop me!” With incredible strength, the vampire lifted
one of the giant coils of the snake and rolled to the alley floor. In a blur of motion, she leapt like a cat
from one side of the surrounding buildings to the other, and disappeared over
the rooftop. Cassandra watched in
horror as her mistress vanished into the night. A loud moaning sound rushed out of her once enticing lips. The muscular Lamia slammed a clawed hand
into the Ghoul’s chest, ripping through the decaying flesh. She felt around for a moment before
extracting a long black mass. It
swirled like a gas, trying to break free from the snake woman’s grasp, but as
mist like as it was, it couldn’t break loose.
Lamia balled the black gas
like she was wadding up paper.
Squeezing it down, smaller and smaller, she leaned back and placing it
into her stretched out mouth, swallowed it.
The Cassandra corpse shuddered then collapsed upon it self like grains
of sands. Nothing remained of the
gorgeous woman Rachael had so desired only minutes ago.
“OK, what the fuck just
happened?” MASsy demanded, striking a
battle stance against Lamia.
The snake woman held up a
finger, in a “wait a second” gesture as she forced herself to continue
swallowing the black essence. She
tucked her long blonde hair behind a slightly pointed ear. She blinked once with her greenish yellow
eyes, and after the second blink Lamia was gone. The woman remained but the giant snake body had vanished. She wore the same leather harness, but now
was covered with smooth, form fitting leather pants. At her feet was a small satchel.
Bending down she pulled a jacket from it and covered her self with it.
She coughed and
swallowed. “You got something else to
wear? I need to get a drink to wash
that foul things down with. I’ll
explain it to you over coffee.”
Bewildered, MASsy stared at
the voluptuous blonde as she turned and walked down the alley. Lamia repeatedly looked over her shoulder to
see if the confused heroine was following.
“Right hand out,” the
Operator announced, surprising MASsy with his presence. Her right hand whipped out and caught her
own backpack. Lamia looked surprised by
the precision of the catch, and the sudden appearance of the backpack. The remote disc hovered silently and unseen above
MASsy, who pulled a long coat out of the bag and donned it. “When did you get back?” she asked softly to
the Operator.
“Sent the back up disc
right after the first one went down.
Just locked onto you as you exited the club. Speaking of which, you and your new friend
had better get a move on. The
Special Tactics Unit will be coming through that door any second now looking
for you. The Biowulf Field Agents are
right behind them. I for one don’t want
to spend the might trying to deal with them…”
Rachael, switching back to
her glasses trotted to catch up with Lamia.
They turned the corner and disappeared into the night as three Special
Tactics Officers emerged out the back for the club.
Inside the club, as the
remaining officers struggled maintain order and take statements, the Biowulf
Field Agents entered the club. Three
individuals in the customary long black coats spread out around the club,
intently watching their hand units as they made sensors sweeps for any traces
of Meta human readings. The one woman,
with her long blonde hair pulled into a tight ponytail. Stopped she had stepped
on something on the edge of the dance floor.
Looking around, she turned off her scanner. Speaking into the hidden microphone in her lapel, she reported
“Bad charge boys, my scanners out.”
“Base to Agent 42, that’s a
Rodger, assist Agents 35 and 39 with their survey then report for
debriefing. Out”
Looking around again, she
inconspicuously bent and retrieved the item.
Pocketing the busted piece of the remote disc, she continued around the
room gathering other shattered parts, careful not to reveal her actions to her
colleges. “Very Interesting… she
thought to herself.