by Mimi Riser
Stored behind its white bulkheads, in hidden recessed cabinets, were its controls, computer and generator, along with tools, emergency rations and other supplies—everything a castaway space traveler would need to find, reach and survive on an alien world. It was connected to the mother craft only by that single passageway—a towline, more or less—that would break away if the pod were launched. The problem was it couldn't be launched while they were in hyperspace, which was another dimension, so before any escape could be wrangled, they'd have to bump the ship back into their home dimension of space-normal.
Sam's eyes bugged at what that would require.
"How many orgasms?” She jerked back with the squawk.
Heavy grunting and panting poured through the intercom system, shaking the hovering glo-globes, signaling the melon orgy was in full swing and the dwarves, in all likelihood, wouldn't notice anything she said aloud, but Deuce still pulled her down flat against him. The action cautioned silence.
::It'll take about seven, I'm guessing,:: he mind-spoke. ::At present, this ‘orm is powered by a wireless connection to the ship's generator. When we climax, it apparently sends a backlash of energy through the system, which creates a power surge that boosts the ship's speed—speed we're going to need to break out of hyperspace. According to Totto, our first climax knocked us into hyperspace early, but the ship was already nearing entry-velocity then, and it requires more force to exit the dimension than it does to get in. What the dwarves call ‘hyperspace’ is what your scientists might call a ‘black hole.'
::Just like with a real hole, it's easier to jump in than jump out. The only way we can manage it from here is to increase the speed in increments—quickly, so the power builds without dissipating between surges. One rapid string of orgasms should create enough thrust to push us free. The moment we're back in space-normal, I can launch this capsule with a voice command and have us out of range of the dwarves before they realize what's happened.::
::Providing they stay busy enough with their orgasms to miss what ours are doing.:: Sam shivered. Fear coiled like an over-wound spring inside her at the dangers involved.
Deuce's arms tightened around her. ::And providing we don't die in the process.::
He wasn't joking. The way the ‘orm linked their energies, magnifying every sensation, that first orgasm had nearly given them strokes. Repeating it seven times in rapid-fire succession quite possibly could kill them—burst their veins, rupture vital organs—assuming, of course, they could even manage seven encores so fast, a Herculean feat in itself. Sam knew all that, but she also knew what awaited them if they didn't escape now. And she had to admit, there were worse ways to die.
::I'm willing to try it if you are.:: She lifted her head to meet his gaze, beaming love into his eyes with the silent words. “I'd rather end my life now in your arms than live the rest of it as a slave."
Fear still filled her, but determination and desire filled her more. Most of all, Deuce filled her, his erection pulsing between her legs and his spirit wrapped around her with his physical embrace—his body steady as a rock beneath her and his open mind a beautiful thing to behold. And wonder of wonders, she was the key that had opened him. He'd shared the dreams in her mind—tarnished and hopeless as those poor dreams had seemed—and realized for the first time since his awakening that he was allowed to dream, too, that mankind was made to dream, to reach high, and even if people never grabbed their goals, the reaching itself was still worth the effort.
She let him read all that in her mind, their thoughts flying back and forth faster than they could blink, one last light-speed communication. There was still so much in him she wanted to explore and this was their last chance to talk before the escape attempt got down and dirty. If the attempt failed, it would be their last chance, period.
She stared down at him, hoping they were doing the right thing. Risking her life was grisly enough, but Deuce ... Sudden doubt struck her. He was something unique, beyond precious, not just to her, but the whole human race. How could they chance losing him?
::Hey, love, I've just discovered free will. Let me exercise it, okay? If I want to risk my life, that's my decision and I've made it. I don't want to be a slave any more than you do. Besides, I'm the one who came up this plan, aren't I?:: He chuckled.
She didn't. ::But you never even considered escaping before, did you?::
::I never had much reason to, or much time to ponder it. I've only been cognizant since my egg was found and sold to the prince. He formed me for a particular purpose, and since I had nothing to compare that purpose to, I took it for granted it was my destiny to fulfill it. I had to see slavery and freedom from your perspective to understand the difference between the two.::
Yeah, she realized that—and still wasn't sure how she felt about it. Proud or guilty? He shouldn't be influenced into such a serious risk by what he'd read in her. She had a long history of making bad choices, a lifetime of chasing rainbows. And tripping over them in the process.
::But always picking yourself up and trying again. That's what I've read in you: Courage. And I didn't need to enter your mind to see it. It was obvious from the moment you appeared on the bridge, rattled but ready to fight.:: He raised a hand to smooth back the hair from her face. ::You don't influence me, love. You inspire me. You're a survivor—a most spirited lass, as I believe I've mentioned before.::
More likely a stupid one, if she was inspiring the man she loved to his death.
::Ah, no, you're a genius.::
Ha-ha.
The tone of his thoughts turned wry. ::So is the prince, unfortunately. He's brilliant really to have figured out what the egg was and how to activate it.::
Also evil, Sam mused. Though no worse than a lot of businessmen on Earth, the kind who threw ethics and ideals out the window when profit margins were at stake. What the prince really was, she supposed, was a grand opportunist, but a little lacking in vision. He'd had a cosmic miracle dropped in his lap, and all he could think to do with it was add another “ride” to his theme park.
Deuce chuckled again, but with little amusement. ::Well, he did need that ‘ride’ since none of the three clones intended for it had ripened to his liking. Frankly, I consider myself lucky he didn't need an Elvis Presley. He's got half a dozen of those already—the full quota of clones, plus three impersonators he took a fancy to, and I understand they're all quite eager to play the King for the prince. Go figure.::
::I'd rather not, thanks.:: She'd rather know who the egg's creators were ... where it had come from ... why ... and how exactly the prince had shaped the raw material inside it into the specific image he wanted, then activated the egg so it breathed life into the figure. But none of that was in Deuce's mind. His memory didn't start until he took his first breath and stepped into existence a full-grown man (who looked like a famous actor, but that was beside the point).
::All that happened just over a year ago, going by your Earth's time-reckoning,:: was all he could tell her. ::Until then, I was just a featureless clay model of a man lying on a slab under a transparent dome.::
One of two domes, in fact. The other one had covered a female figure, Sam guessed—or, rather, the remains of one. The second dome had cracked at some point during the egg's long wandering through space and the clay beneath it had dried to dust.
Poor Deuce. He must have felt so alone when he'd awakened solo. A genuine original Man, possibly the only one left in the universe. No wonder he wanted to discover mankind's origins. He could very well be an integral part of it, the last of a fleet of prototype humans sent out eons ago to people the galaxy. Adam might have been a better name for him. Though, in his case, it was Adam without an Eve.
"Not any longer. I've found her.” He said it aloud, his gaze locked onto hers, his eyes holding her firmer than his arms. “Ever since my waking I've felt a hollowness inside, like a hunger, but I didn't know how to feed it. The prince gave me a purpose and the training to accomplish it. I ate, slept, read his libr
ary, studied his film collection, bedded his harem ... but I couldn't see much meaning in any of it. I couldn't see much meaning in me. I existed, but I didn't feel truly alive till your spirit filled me and I saw what I'd been lacking. A soul. Only loving and being loved can give a man that.” He smiled with the statement, sounding so sure of what he said, so wise.
And he was. She'd sensed it in him before and sensed it even stronger now—an age-old wisdom that must have been implanted into the very clay from which he'd been formed. Probably all humans—all creatures—held the same wisdom deep inside, passed on from parent to child, on and on down the line from the very beginning. It was the god-spark, perhaps, that created life and linked everything together. But it was purer in Deuce, cleaner, more powerful, because he was the beginning. In him, the wisdom was untainted and undistilled.
"You've always had a soul,” she whispered. “You just needed to see yourself through my eyes to recognize it and realize how brightly it shines."
"No, you are my soul, my completion. The prince gave me full run of his harem so I could learn how to manage the sex required for his purposes, but I needed you to teach me love, to show me my true mission ... which still involves sex, by the way.” A devilish gleam lit his eyes and his smile went wicked. His hips, which had never ceased rocking, increased tempo, turning the tiny, teasing motion of the erection inside her into real thrusts. Real noticeable.
Sam melted into slag as his hand slipped around the back of her head and drew her down into a kiss that blistered her lips.
::It's a big mission, you know,:: he mind-spoke. ::And I need you for that as well. I can't do it alone, love. I need you to help me accomplish what I was created for.::
Lord have mercy ... did he have to mention that now?
::Deuce, any fertile female could help you accomplish it.::
His kiss suddenly became ravenous, sucking the breath out of her. ::I don't want ‘any’ female, damn it. I want you!::
::All right, already—:: She gasped against him, fighting for air. ::I was just checking, for God's sake.::
::Check this.:: His hold hardened and he swiveled, reversing their positions within the circle of the ‘orm's straps, trapping her beneath him and nailing her in place with a smooth, solid strike straight up her center alley.
::There's more where that came from,:: he mentally warned her.
Sam didn't doubt it, but a sudden, other doubt arose. She clutched his shoulders and moaned as he claimed her fore and aft with lips and hips. His mouth ground down and his rod rammed in again ... and again ... furious to possess her. She felt his need, but couldn't help feeling a new fear with it. He was made for what lay ahead of them if they escaped, but what about her? He might be right in a way about not needing just any female. An original man might need an original woman—and she was definitely only a copy. Was she big enough for this job? Good enough? How the hell had Eve handled it anyway? Let's face it, Adam had the easy part.
::I hope you realize your mission is going to mean an awful lot of work for my body.:: She shoved the thought into his head to make sure he got it loud and clear.
He kissed her harder. ::If I had the physical equipment to do that work for you, I would. But as it stands, all I can do is promise to love, honor, cherish, help and support you in every way I can. From this time forth, your body is mine, and I intend to take very, very good care of it. If you don't want to do this, I won't make you, and I'll still love you just as much—even if we scrap the whole mission. But if you're game to try, there'll be no pressure. We'll take things one step, one child at a time, and see how it goes. How does that sound?::
Like heaven, that's how. Sweeter than music, more beautiful than a marriage vow—the best thing she'd ever heard, even if she didn't hear it with her ears. Her heart heard it, which made it sound even better.
Pure joy bubbled up in her, coming out in muffled laughter against his mouth. ::Okay, I'll accept that. Hell, I've always wanted a big family anyway.::
"Good. Then let's ‘blow this joint,’ as they say on your Earth, so we can get started making one."
Sam wrapped her arms around his neck, bracing herself for the coming cataclysm. And she did mean coming ... and coming ... and coming. ::Ready when you are, babe. I'm with you all the way.::
::You bet you are.:: He deepened the kiss, matching the thrusts of his tongue to the rhythm of his hips, leaving her nothing to do but hang on for the ride.
The first of the needed orgasms struck like a dump truck, rocketing pulses and rattling teeth. The second slammed in on its heels, whirling the ‘orm about in a dizzy spin, and the third, a near heart attack later, shook the entire ship.
"Uh-unh-oohhh...” Notto grunted over the intercom. “Did you feel that?"
"I felt it, I felt it!” Xotto exclaimed. “Best bloody wank I ever had. Gimme another melon—quick! I'm on a roll here!"
"So am I,” Deuce panted out, and started pumping to produce the fourth.
Beneath him, Sam quivered and groaned, all her nerve endings crackling like short circuits. “I'm glad one of us is. I've gone blind."
"Try opening your eyes, love. It worked for me."
"I can't. My eyelashes fried on the last one and my lids are seared shut."
"Never mind,” he comforted. “Maybe this one will pop them open again."
Good God Almighty ... Deuce was right. The fourth climax exploded and her lids snapped up. But she hardly noticed, because her eyeballs rolled back in their sockets at the same moment. Then the fifth hit, rolling them forward again, and making the ship sputter and jerk as if it were having a seizure. Sam didn't blame it. She was teetering on the brink of a seizure herself, shock waves ripping through her like a chainsaw, leaving her bloody and torn in their wake—but astoundingly satisfied, she had to admit. Well, she'd have to be, wouldn't she, after five earthquake orgasms that registered off the Richter scale?
At least I'll die happy, she thought.
Deuce braced up on an elbow to look at her, sweat sheening his skin, chest heaving, and his shaft unbelievably still rock solid and ready for action. “We're not going to die. If we've made it this far, we can finish the job. Just two more should do it, I think."
"Just two? Cripes, I don't think I have even one left in me.” Bleary-eyed, she stared at him and noticed the hovering glo-globes beyond his head pulsing and swelling like balloons about to burst. They looked like she felt. “How on earth can you keep it up?"
"Because for starters, we're not on Earth. We're on a spaceship and the artificial gravity is less here, which takes some of the stress off. Secondly, not to sound egotistical, but I was created to help father the human race, so my sexual capacity may be a bit beyond the current norm. And third"—he sank down on top of her, hot male flesh pressing her deep into the ‘orm, gearing up for round six—"I was trained for this on Helle. As one of the prince's new ‘attractions,’ I'd have been called upon to satisfy multiple women in a short span. Satisfying one woman multiple times is the same thing basically, except easier because I don't have to hop from bed to bed. Also...” His mouth found hers and he finished the sentence telepathically. ::I happen to love the woman involved. You wouldn't believe how much easier that makes things.::
"Mmmm...” was all she could answer with her lips captured by a kiss, and the rest of her ravaged by the volcanic pressure of another orgasm about to erupt. What she couldn't believe was how fast he'd heated her to a fever pitch once more. It just showed you what good training could do for a man. Of course, the love certainly didn't hurt. She let the emotion carry her over the edge again, wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to him while his body worked its magic on hers. Quite a wand he had there.
Climax number six shattered the sound barrier—or one of the glo-globes, at any rate. The rest went berserk with the energy that had been built up in the ship's generator, whizzing hither and yon, colliding with each other in showers of sparks and bouncing off the bulkheads like a ravening horde of big, bloated ping-pong balls
on a rampage.
Deuce cursed, Sam shrieked, and the ‘orm panicked. It bucked under them like a bronco, dipped and dove trying to avoid the insane globes. Then it remembered its dignity—it was a class-A model, after all—and became indignant, huffily holding its ground and issuing a sharp hiss, as though ordering the globes to settle down. When that didn't work, the irate ‘orm went on the offensive, chasing the beastly things and swatting at them with its four free straps, like they were gnats. Obviously, it was damned if it would let them get the better of it. Stupid globes.
Snap—Crackle—Pop! It sounded like a bowl of breakfast cereal—only a hundred times louder—as the dizzily swaying ‘orm perfected its aim and a second globe shattered.
"Oh, God, I'm getting seasick.” Sam moaned.
"What the bloody blazes is going on in there?” Jotto yelled, his voice reverberating with the wild zinging of the intercom system it came out of.
"There? What's going on here?” Xotto screeched.
"Shit!” A solid whump blasted forth—Totto slugging his console, no doubt. “They've boosted the speed! I'll have to reset all the coordinates again. Another notch higher and we'll leap out of hyperspace!"
"That's good to know,” Deuce murmured.
"Well, stop it! Stop it!” Jotto ordered. “Flotto, throttle back on the generator!"
"I can't.” Flotto whimpered in pain. “Oooww ... Me melon's stuck. I can't move."
"Throttle back, I told you—screw the melon!"
"I did! How do you think it got stuck, you flamin’ fruit?"
"Fruit! He said fruit!” Notto gave his warthog-in-heat bellow. “Oooooh ... I need more melons—now!"
Bleggh belched.
Deuce flattened himself over Sam to shield her from a big bull globe that had broken loose from the pack and was challenging the ‘orm one-on-one, weaving in and out of the flashing, lashing straps.
