Forced To Kill The Prince

by Hollie Hutchins

  He slid behind her, encircling her with his powerful, muscular arms. Panic thrashed inside her as she felt his iron-hard rod slip between her buttocks. His hands copped her breasts. His lips were on her ear, his breath was hot. “Do you want me to stop?”

  She heard herself moan, “No…please no…”

  He grunted and pushed, “Do you want me inside you?”

  “Yes…god forgive me…yes…”

  Slipping and sliding between her legs, he bit her shoulder and sucked hard on her neck. She surrendered to her hunger and, smiling, closed her eyes and cried out with pleasure.

  His fingers found her mouth. She sucked them and, moistened with her saliva, they searched for her nipples, circling them, wetly playing with them. They grew long and hard as he rubbed, in and out against her inside thighs.

  He moved around to her front again. She opened her legs to him and he positioned himself against her bush. Their eyes locked and they smiled. She looked savage. He took hold of her nipples and pinched, hard. She shuddered and groaned.

  “Let me go you son of a bitch and I’ll show you what pleasure and pain are.”

  “Yeah? What will you do?”

  “Come here and I’ll show you…”

  Huge and engorged, he gripped her ass and positioned her, then slid inside. She cried out, and as he came close she sank her teeth into his shoulder, and licked his neck up to his ear. Next thing he was pounding her, rattling her chains, smacking his hips against her ass, and she was screaming obscenities of pure joy.

  They came together, both shouting, both screaming, until they silenced each other with long, deep, hungry kisses.

  Then she whispered in his ear, “Have you got a bed?”

  He smiled and grunted, “You want to see it?”

  “I am ready for round two, and I want to show you what I can do with my hands free…”

  He growled.

  “I am a traitor,” she thought, “But this can’t be wrong…”

  Erickson and Stella arrived at the docking bay. There was nobody there. The cube stood alone, silent and open.

  Stella stared up at Erickson and said, “Share, dude.”

  He pointed at it. “That, is the GFART.”

  She nodded. “OK. Why?”

  “Because, because basically what he described was a nano-particle programmer, and what he said they were going to do, stimulating estrogen and dopamine, for that you would need a nano-particle programmer. And it makes sense he was planning to use it, because he has just told us we are a damn sight more aggressive than he expected us to be. Also, I think Olaf said it was.”

  She danced her head around a bit. “OK, that kind of makes sense.

  “There is another reason.”

  “Yeah?”

  “When I got trapped in there, when they caught me. I had a look at the control panel. It has a big sign on it that says ‘GFART’.”

  “That’s quite persuasive. So what do we do?”

  “When we get inside, the lights will probably go out, but I have night vision goggles and a torch – that’s a flashlight to you. The control panel is all in English. So I say we go in and see if we can work out how…”

  “How it works.”

  He smiled at her, “Yeah. How it works.”

  They stepped inside and, as Erickson had expected, the door slid closed and the lights went out. His voice spoke out of the blackness. “It’s probably programmed to do that.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Here…”

  She giggled. “I can’t see where ‘here’ is, can I? You idiot!”

  He snorted a laugh. “Here, reach out – Woah! Sorry! Was that your…?”

  “She giggled again. “Yeah, don’t worry…oh, there you are…”

  They felt each other’s proximity and held on. They were silent for a moment. Then he said, “You know, the way you handle yourself, the way you dealt with Thorvall…”

  “Yeah, what about it?”

  “You’re pretty hot.”

  She squeezed him. “And I thought you hadn’t noticed. Well Mr., that whole British accent bad-ass SAS guy thing you have going on…”

  “Yeah…?”

  “That’s pretty hot too. And you know something else…? Mmmm…”

  He had silenced her with a kiss. It was a long, deep, slow one. Then he kissed her neck and her ear, and whispered, “Let’s not waste time. Life’s too short.”

  It was not, as you might expect from two people such as these, a brutal affair. It was not bestial. Because each, in their own way, craved tenderness and gentleness in love. He stripped and then removed all her clothes in the dark. Then he switched on the flashlight and stood it on its end, so that they were naked together in its diffuse light. She lay down, languid and luxurious, making a bed of their discarded clothes as he slowly kissed every inch of her body, with infinite tenderness, taking his time, lingering exquisitely on her nipples, running his tongue slowly down her belly to gently bite her hips. She smiled and writhed. The pleasure was deep and totally uninhibited. She stroked his hair as he buried his face between her thighs, taking bug, succulent mouthfuls of her, licking her with exquisite sensitivity.

  She groaned, and her excitement began to build. His tongue probed deep and moved from long, slow, moist licks to rapid flicks. Burning tingles welled like a flood through her loins. She pushed her mound up into his face. He cupped her ass in his hands and penetrated her with his tongue. He growled and hunched his shoulders as her excitement infected him. His tongue hardened and he flicked faster. She whimpered, and between whimpers tensed her body and held her breath, feeling the orgasm mount until she spasmed violently and a wild rush of pleasure wracked her body.

  She collapsed, gasping, and he rose over her. Her legs parted and she dilated, still pulsing, groaning with desire. She reached down and held him, hard as stone, and guided him. He slide inside her. He bent down, biting her nipples, sending shards of exquisite pain piercing into her. She arched her chest to him, rubbing her breasts with her own hands. She whispered, “Lick me…”

  He gripped her small waist in his powerful hands and ran his tongue from her chest to her neck and bit hard. She cried out. He withdrew and entered her again. She contracted on him and he groaned and did it again. Then he began a steady driving rhythm. She felt him growing bigger and harder as he pushed and withdrew, then pushed again, deeper, growing faster. The sting of friction of their moist, perspiring skin rubbing and slipping together caused an intoxicating tingle that was almost painful, but she wanted more. She cried out. He held her face and smothered her mouth with his, sucking her tongue, driving into her, feeling his hips pounding her buttocks. His face grew savage. His neck swelled. His speed grew to a frenzy and suddenly he was roaring like an animal. She was clawing at his back. They were grappling, clinging to each other. She wrapped her legs about him as wave after wave of orgasms shook their bodies.

  Then they lay in exquisite, moist, throbbing silence. He was still inside her, pulsing gently, and they kissed, long, deep, intimate kisses. Licking each other’s perspiration from their necks and shoulders. Inhaling the intoxicating smell of each other’s bodies. She whispered in his ear, “You are a fucking animal…”

  He kissed her.

  “Good. We can be animals together.” He kissed her again. “Now, you sexy little killing machine, I think this world of ours needs a god GFART…”

  And they laughed, tangled in each other’s perspiring limbs.

  Thirteen

  Thorvall lit a Camel with his battered, brass Zippo, inhaled deeply and blew smoke at the ceiling.

  “This gig is over,” he said.

  Alvarez took the cigarette from his fingers and took a drag. She said, “Erickson is like that, man. You know, he is like, ‘I’m gonna do this,’ and maaan… He won’t stop. He just keeps-on-going…”

  “It’s a shame. It was a sweet gig.” He was quiet for a bit, thinking, “You know? I was born in Oslo, but I was taken to Flarve when I was ju
st six. I was just a poor, barefoot white boy in the backstreets of Flarvox. I couldn’t get a job, couldn’t get a house, couldn’t get nothing!” His voice turned sour. “Because I wasn’t green! You don’t get shit if you’re not green! But when I was fourteen I jumped a ship going to Ephnae, made myself useful, learned how to play the Green Man, you know…?”

  “I hear you.”

  “And here I am, governor of Earth. You know what I did? I got on board their Seeding and Expansion program and sold them…nothing!”

  “You did it, man…”

  She handed back the cigarette. He took it, “Thanks, Babe. It was a beautiful scam …” he wheezed a laugh and she laughed with him. “You know how big this ship is?”

  “Three miles…?”

  He shook his head, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “It’s an old Schzlürg transport ship” He was puce and helpless with laughter. Alvarez smiled but said, “Doesn’t mean a lot to me.”

  He waved his hand at her, tried several times and failed and finally said, “It’s a one hundred and fifty foot sphere…!”

  Alvarez gaped. “You shitting me? What about the others?”

  “There are no others!”

  “You held the whole goddamn planet to ransom with one, small ship?”

  He nodded, still helpless, wiped his eyes and took a rueful drag on his cigarette, then handed it back to Alvarez who was regarding him with unconcealed admiration.

  “It’s the GFART. It’s my own invention. It’s a nano-particle programmer, and it can generate the most realistic holograms you can imagine. Two thirds of my troops are holograms. But the best part,” he said, “I had those green Flarvoxian bastards paying me billions in Galactic Credits to set up the Earth operation, and I had Earth governments providing the troops to enslave themselves, by promising them wealth and power they already had! Flarve provided the money, Earth provided the troops, I provided a hologram and a dozen mercenaries like Olaf! Hahahaa! All holograms! And now I am now a very, very rich barefoot white boy.”

  Alvarez looked worried. “Still man, you sold people. That ain’t cool.”

  He looked at her like she was crazy. “You kidding? I saved their lives! You know how long this planet has left before it croaks? You know what happens when eight billion people have kids? You get sixteen billion people. You know what happens when sixteen billion people have kids? You get thirty-two billion people. You know what happens…”

  “I get the idea.”

  “The maximum this planet can sustain is ten billion and that would be an unhappy planet. And with your CO2 problem, you are on the highway to Hell, baby.”

  “So where did all those women go?”

  “To colonize other planets. That is what the Flarvoxians do. I wasn’t kidding about that.”

  “And they are green?”

  “Yeah, they are pretty reptilian.”

  “So what happens now?”

  She handed him the butt of the Camel and he crushed it out in a black ashtray. “I guess I’ll GFART the planet, call in an emergency, get the Flarvaxians to evacuate most of the population and the Earth will start again from scratch, like last time. They will be pretty pissed. It’s taken them fifteen thousand years to get you where you are, and they were looking forward to moving in. This is a rare and lovely planet.”

  “Last time?”

  “Yeah, when Atlas fucked up and the ice caps melted.”

  “I think Erickson probably already went ahead and GFARTed.” She sniggered like a school kid.

  Thorvall shook his head.

  “Nah, he won’t be able to. He doesn’t know where the GFART machine is, or how to work it. I’ll do it in a minute.”

  Alvarez frowned. “So what would happen if you both GFARTed at the same time?”

  Again she was reduced to schoolgirl giggles.

  He rolled his eyes. “It would get real cold You’d get an ice age with ice caps going right down to San Francisco, Spain, Iraq, northern India…”

  “Wow, pretty cold, huh?”

  “All trace of this civilization would be wiped out.”

  “Cool…”

  She rolled on top of him. “So where you going to go? What you gonna do…?”

  He slipped his arm round her and stroked her waist and her ass.

  “I’m going to buy the best cruiser on the market. There are whole sectors, millions of light years across, in this galaxy that have not been explored yet. I think I’ll go and explore them, and give the Flarvoxians time to cool off a bit.” He kissed her long and slow. “You wanna come?”

  “You mean come with you in your explorations, or just, you know, come…?”

  “Both…”

  “You bet!”

  Only about thirty yards away, up and to the left, Bernie found himself in absolute darkness. He was not claustrophobic, so he wasn’t too worried about that, but he did have the feeling he had been going in circles, or perhaps squares, for a long time and he was getting bored. He knew there were several chairs in the room because he had fallen over all of them. He also knew there were banks of what might be computers. But they all seemed to be switched off.

  Eventually he had found the light by a pure fluke. Bernie was not claustrophobic, but he did have a phobia of flying insects. In one of his many exploratory circuits of the room he had passed beneath a ventilation shaft, which had blown a wisp of his tousled and unruly hair across the back of his neck, making it feel as though a small insect was crawling there. The feeling had triggered an automatic response from his autonomic system and he had slapped his neck.

  The noise of the smack had switched on the light.

  He swore eloquently, exploring the genesis of the engineers who had designed the craft, and the frequency with which the canine species had intervened in said genesis. It was a largish room, and along one wall there was indeed a bank of computers. All dead or sleeping. Ranged in front of them was a line of black chairs. He dropped into the centre chair and stared at the blind screens. He thought of the clap that had switched the lights on and clapped again. Not surprisingly the lights went out.

  He clapped again. They came on.

  He thought of Star Trek and said, in resonant Shakespearian English, “Computer, switch on the computers!”

  They came on and he jumped around the room, laughing and punching the air. After a minute he sat down again and stared at the screen in front of him. He had no idea what to do, but shrugged and spread his hands and said, “Voice activated… It’s voice activated, right? So…it’s voice activated…” he coughed and brought Captain Jean Luke Picard to his mind again, imagined himself bald and said, “Computer, interface with GFART!”

  “Interface activated.”

  There was a bleep from the console and a different voice said, “What would you like to do?”

  “That easy, huh?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t understand the instruction. What would you like to do?”

  Bernie racked his brain for information about CO2 levels, what they were and what they should be and what they had been. He remembered that 400 ppm was bad, and that was where we were. He remembered, or he thought he did, 280 ppm was where we had been for ten thousand years until the industrial revolution. He was suddenly gripped by uncertainty. Any drop would have to be good, right? He blurted, “Reduce the earth’s atmospheric CO2 levels by one hundred parts per million!”

  The voice said, “Reducing…”

  He grinned. That would bring it down to 300 ppm. That might be enough. “Cool.” He waited a bit. “So what else can you do?”

  “There are approximately two hundred and fifty thousand things that I can do, speaking in general terms. I can create tactile holograms, I can…”

  “Wait, wait, wait! Tactile holograms? You mean a hologram I can feel?”

  “Yes. That is correct.”

  “O – kaaaay… So if I say to you, Gal Gadot, do you know who I am talking about…?”

  Far below, in Central Park, Clay lay on the b
ack seat of the Jeep gazing up at the billions of stars that lay carelessly strewn across the infinite void and wondered at the immensity of it all. Everything was just so…immense…

  He inhaled on his third joint, dragged it deep, held and closed his eyes. Immense… a cold breeze made him shudder…

  Fourteen

  In the GFART cube, by the dim glow of the flashlight, Erickson and Stella had managed to open the control panel. But that was where they had got stuck. They had spent half an hour pressing buttons, cautiously at first, but with increasingly reckless abandon. None of them did anything.

  In frustration Stella slid to the floor and said, “You’d think in a ship as immense as this, and as sophisticated, they would have voice recognition activated.”

  A voice said, “Voice recognition activated. What would you like to do?”

  Stella buried her face in her hands and giggled helplessly. Erickson stared at her and said, “If we weren’t in such a hurry, I’d shag your brains out all over again.”

  He glanced at the various screens that had come to life.

  “OK, let’s see what you can do…”

  “There are approximately two hundred and fifty thousand things I can do.”

  “Jesus! OK, well lets start with just one, for now. I need you to reduce the CO2 parts per million in the atmosphere of the planet. Can you do that?”

  “I certainly can. Thank you for asking. How much would you like me to reduce it by?”

  “Shit…”

  “That is not a percentile I am familiar with. Can you express the figure in a number?”

  Stella stared at him. She said, “We tipped over four hundred parts per million a couple of years ago. I know we were at three hundred in the fifties and sixties last century…”