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Archive name: bigbang.txt (MF, oral, mast, anal, sci-fi)
Authors name: Marcia R. Hooper (marciar26@aol.com)
Story title : Big Bang Theory
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Copyright 2003. As the author, I claim all rights under
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Big Bang Theory (MF, rom, oral, mast, anal, sci-fi)
by Marcia R. Hooper (MarciaR26@aol.com)
***
Gerry discovers more than a meteorite when she tracks
down a shooting star. Based on a sci-fi story written
back in the thirties--I'm sure the author never
invisioned his hero transforming into a heroine, and
having sex and getting back her boyfriend while saving
the world--this is my very favorite story.
***
This is a work of fiction and is not meant to portray any
person living or dead, nor any known situation. It is
meant for adults only and is not to be read by person's
under the age of 18, or the legal age in the
county/state/country in which the reader resides.
If you would like a Microsoft Word or Wordperfect version
of this story (a much easier read), please contact me at
MarciaR26@aol.com. You can also visit my website at
http://hometown.aol.com/marciar26/ to read the rest of my
stories. If that doesn't work, which it doesn't half the
time, try http://members.aol.com/_ht_a/marciar26/myhomepage/
Note: This story is adapted from the short story, "The
Accursed Galaxy" by Edmond Hamilton. It was originally
published in the July, 1935 issue of Astounding Stories.
About two months ago, my husband handed me a book of
short stories called: Before the Golden Age, by Isaac
Asimov and dared me to try and make any of them modern
enough to read. I laughed, thinking who would ever want
to read something written 67-68 years ago, and science
fiction to boot. I was wrong. Three of the stories I
really liked: "The Accursed Galaxy" and "Devolution" by
Edmond Hamilton, and "He Who Shrank" by Henry Hasse. I
rewrote all three.
This story has quite a lot of sex, so it fits nicely into
Kristen's Collection guidelines. The other two don't have
quite as much, but I hope you'll enjoy them as well. They
are: The Girl Who Came Shrink Wrapped, and River of
Screams.
BIG BANG THEORY
by Marcia R. Hooper
(MarciaR26@aol.com)
Adapted from the short story:
THE ACCURSED GALAXY
by Edmond Hamilton
First Published in the July, 1935
issue of Astounding Stories
ONE
A thin, tearing sound like the ripping of a thousand
sheets of paper grew with lightning speed to a violent
roar that brought Gerry Abrams to her feet.
"What the hell is that!" she exclaimed, running for the
cabin door. She flung it open just in time to see the
white hot (actually, it was green) sword of fire cleave
the night sky. It came down from right to left on an
almost vertical trajectory, smashing into the ground. The
noise was ear-splitting and she shook with the impact.
"Oh, my God!" she exclaimed. "Was that a meteor?"
Then all was dark and silent again.
Grabbing a flashlight from the mantle over the fireplace,
Gerry excitedly ran out into the yard, turned around
again and ran back into the cabin. Grabbing her leather
coat and the keys out of her purse, she scolded: "Christ,
Gerry! Lock yourself out!"
This time shutting the door behind her and making sure it
was locked, Gerry hustled across the yard and down a
narrow path. She directed the flashlight ahead, sweeping
it all directions. There were bear in these woods, she
knew, and bobcats too. . .she didn't want a run in, but
she did want her story.
A print reporter for the New York Daily News, Gerry was
in her fifth year in the trade. She hated the work almost
as much as she hated her ex-husband, Tom, but this was
the kind of story she craved.
"Crack Reporter Sole Witness to Giant Meteor's Fall!"
Only a crack reporter she was not and neither was the
meteor a giant. If it were, she'd probably be dead.
102
Emerging from a stand of trees, and stopping for a moment
to catch her breath, Gerry scanned the dimly star-lit
valley below for smoke or fire. She saw a few wisps
rising from the pine trees to her right, and headed
resolutely off in that direction.
"Let there be something left," she muttered, tripping
over a root. "I need a three-column picture."
Away from the path and into the pesky undergrowth, briars
tore at Gerry's pants legs and scratched at her hands;
boughs whipped and stung her face. "Ow!" she yelled, more
than once. Once she dropped the flashlight and had to go
after it on her hands and knees--momentarily it went out.
"Great! Lost in the woods!"
Here in the northern Adirondacks after fifty two weeks of
constant reporting in order to wash the stink of
slayings, scandals and corruption out of her mind (in her
ex-husband's cabin), the last time she got "lost" in the
woods, Gerry had squat down on poison ivy, going pee. The
itch had driven her crazy, finally forcing her into town
to see the doctor. What an ordeal that had been!
Before long she heard a crackle of flames and caught the
smell of burning. She emerged a few minutes later into a
hundred-foot round circle, crushed flat by the impact.
Wow, she reflected uneasily, it was bigger than I
thought.
Brush, grass and leaves, set afire by the impact, burned
fiercely around the edge of the crater, which was ten
feet wide. Smoke caught her eyes and made Gerry blink.
She coughed lightly. She hated smoke. He ex-husband
smoked. Then she saw the rock.
Only it was not a rock at all.
Half-buried in the soft earth thrown out by the impact,
the object was a glowing polyhedron. Its surface was
covered in a multitude of tiny faceted flats, perfectly
geometrical in shape. A polyhedron that had fallen from
outer space.
Gerry Abrams stared. And she was scared. Backing slowly
away, she saw a new headline blasting out:
"Reported Killed by Polyhedron From Outer Space! Earth
Invaded!"
Gerry took another step back, then a tentative step in
the direction of the object. She gulped and her throat
made a loud click. Her throat was parched.
"What the hell is that?" she muttered.
Cautiously, she took a step closer, mindful of the heat.
The ground around the object gave off tenuous streamers
of steam and smoldered in places like a cigarette tip.
The object glowed white hot, but it wasn't hot at all,
Gerry discovered. The glow was illumination, not radiant
heat.
"What the hell is this thing?" she demanded.
It was a satellite, of course. Russian, American, who
knew? Maybe even Chinese. But the truth was--and Gerry
very well knew it--that nothing coming through our
atmosphere arrived unscathed--if it arrived at all. This
thing was fully intact.
Coming to a sudden decision, Gerry backed away. It was
too big--too big for her. Way too big for any one person.
Yet she fully deserved to have her byline on this piece,
and as long as her name appeared first, that was just
fine. She needed an expert, and knew just where to find
one.
103
Turning around, Gerry struggled back through the woods to
the path, then followed it up the slope. Once inside the
cabin, she climbed the ladder to the loft and pulled her
flight bag out from under the bed. She thumbed on her
cell phone, waited for the familiar Verizon logo to
appear, then hoped for a signal. She saw one bar.
Taking a chance he'd be on his couch in his office at the
observatory, dialing 411, Gerry gave the following
information: "New York, New York. Dr. Ferdinand Peters.
Manhattan University Observatory."
Waiting for the attendant to pick up, she picked
anxiously at her teeth. She needed to pee. She squirmed
having to hold it in. When the operator thanked her for
waiting, she wrote the number down on the back of her
hand and then dialed it.
"Hello?" The astronomer's voice was sleepy and irritated,
but at least it was him and no one else.
"Hi," she said. "This is Gerry Abrams."
Before he could speak, Gerry went on:
"You remember me, right? The reporter who spilled vodka
martini all over your clothes?"
Even as Gerry held her breath in a fearful limbo,
Dr.Peter's said: "What do you want, Gerry? It's pretty
late."
"Did you like the article on your solar flares?" she
asked. "It was published last month." Again she fingered
her teeth. Her own color had flared and tears began to
well.Why did I call him?
"I remember it contained no less than thirty-three
errors," Dr. Peters answered, somewhat acidly.
Gerry groaned. "No."
"Yes."
"Your kidding."
"I wanted to review it first."
"I know," Gerry sighed. "I should have sent it down."
There was a moment's silence, during which Dr.Peters
sighed. "I'm sorry," he said. "I should have called you."
You certainly should have. Aloud, Gerry said: "I found
something, Pete."
"Found what?"
Gerry slowly explained. She tried not to sound too crazy.
She tried not to sound insane.
After digesting her words, Dr.Peter's said: "I'm coming
up. By plane, if I can get a flight." Peter's hated to
fly "You wait there and we'll go out and look at this
thing together. Does anyone else know?"
"If they do, I didn't tell them."
"Well, it had to be seen. Most likely there's hunter's
out scouring for it now."
What Peters meant by "hunters" were the professional
meteorite collectors. The chased down any significant
fall for selling to the highest bidder. They were hated
by professional and amateur astronomers alike.
"We have to beat them there," Peters said.
TWO
In the early morning light, Gerry stood beside the small
but immaculately kept runway at Lake George Lodge. Used
mostly by local inhabitants, twice a year the lodge drew
an influx of profession sportsmen, coinciding with the
start of fishing season and the bass tournaments they
spawned. Gerry had never fished, but she liked bass well
enough. She waited for the plane.
Jesus, Gerry, she thought. You broke up his marriage.
So what, the unrepentant side of her said. If he didn't
want to jump, he didn't have to.
But jump he had, and Gerry and Peter's spent three
incredible months fucking madly, often at her cabin in
the woods, sometimes even bothering to talk.
His wife has the kids. she thought.
You're why his wife has the kids.
Putting the argument aside, Gerry paced anxiously up and
down the strip. The last time was back in June, when the
first tournament had hit. They had spent three days in
bed. Three days memorizing each other's skin. Three days
luxuriating in the cool mountain air as precious seconds
ticked by and the wife grew wise. She had not seen him
since.
Gerry heard the drone of a plane.
Coming in from the east and circling gracefully over the
lake, the yellow and red float plane came in low over the
water. Throttling back at just the last moment, the pilot
let the pontoons gently touch, then set the plane in the
water. He sidled up to the dock. The instant the ignition
was cut, Peters threw open the door and jumped out. His
face was gray with strain and unshaven beard and his eyes
were bloodshot. Eying Gerry walking toward the dock, he
perfunctorily waved.
"Hi," Gerry called, keeping enthusiasm out of her voice.
He looks just awful, she thought.
How do you look?
At twenty-four years of age, Gerry stood five-feet-seven
inches tall and weighed an unhealthy one-hundred and two
pounds. None of her clothes fit anymore, and Gerry was
too stubborn to buy anything new. Her bra size had shrunk
a full cup and a half, leaving her to flop around in her
bra's. Lately she had resorted to safety pinning them
closed. She no longer looked at her chest in the mirror.
I look just fine, she replied.
Stepping up on the dock, Gerry waited for Peters to
retrieve his bag, then make final arrangements with the
pilot. She kissed him chastely on the cheek, hands in her
pockets.
"Hi, Pete," she said.
"Hi, Gerry."
They stood together uneasily for awhile, afraid to say a
word. Then Gerry stepped off the dock and lead the way to
her car.
104
"You're sure the thing is a polyhedron?" Peters asked.
"Not just a meteorite with some resemblance to that
shape?"
"Wait till you see it ," Gerry said. "My car will take us
almost there."
Her car was 2003 Toyota Land Cruiser and it did go
anywhere, almost.
"Let me throw this in the back, okay?" Peters said, going
to the hatch. "Its equipment I thought we'd need."
His equipment consisted of various-sized pry-bars, a
fifty-piece, all-purpose Craftsman tool set, a pair of
Army surplus collapsible shovels, and a miniature oxy-
acetylene torch.
After stowing his bag in the back, Peters jumped in and
they bumped and rattled their way over the uncertain
mountain roads. They rode in silence, finally reaching a
turnout near the site. It was the Appalachian Trail.
Retrieving his pack and settling the pack on his
shoulders, Peters said: "We hiked this path before."
Gerry said, "Uh-huh. It leads back up the mountain,
almost to my place." She pointed up the slope. "It's
about halfway up, and over to the left."
They left the path at a spot marked by Gerry with a red
hair-bob tied to a branch--she ignored his half-smirky
grin--and fought their way through the brambles. The
going was much easier in the daylight, it not any less
painful. When they emerged in the clearing where the
"meteorite" lay, Peters let out a soft whistle.
"A satellite," he said.
Gerry said, "That's what I thought, at first."
Peters slowly nodded. "How could it survive the impact. .
."
"It couldn't."
Moving slowly toward the object with his best scientific-
undertaking expression, Peters walked with Gerry around
the hole. Keeping his eyes fixed on the object, he said:
"I should have called you, Gerry. I really should."
Gerry was unsure what to say. She wanted to cuss him out.
She wanted to kick his ass. She almost called him a
fucking cock.
"I called you," she said.
"Yes. You certainly did." Leaning over the object to hide
his look of guilt, Peters held out his hand.
"Pete--"
"I'm not going to touch it," he said. He held his palm
six inches from the surface. "It's not hot. But it
glows."
"Should have seen it last night."
Peters grunted.
Getting out the pair of collapsible shovels, Peters
opened them both and handed one to Gerry.
"Gee, thanks."
Peters grinned. "This is a two man job."
Gerry looked down at her body. The leather coat
camouflaged her lack of assets up top, but there was no
disguising her jeans. They hung on her in the best Hip-
hop fashion. "I guess I'm your man," she said.
Going to work on one side, while Peters worked on the
other, Gerry soon uncovered something of interest.
"There's a marking on the side," she said. Then looking
closer: "A diagram of some kind."
Peter's came around to look. "You know," he said, going
down on his knees, "if this thing is some kind of metal,
it's like nothing I've ever seen."
Gerry thought the "tiles" looked ceramic.
"No," Peter's mused, looking closely at the newly
discovered outline. "Ceramic doesn't glow."
"Neither does metal," she said.
"Good point."
Examining the pattern graven into the object's side,
Peters grunted in surprise.
"What?" Gerry asked.
Peter's expression was bewildered. "I don't know," he
said, though Gerry thought he did.
Getting very close to the diagram, Gerry looked it over
again. This time she saw that the swarms of tightly
clustered dots forming patterns, most of them spiral, in
the shape of galaxies. Then she saw the strangely formed
line of icons, looking like hieroglyphics.
"What the hell are those?" she asked, pointing.
105
"Writing of some kind," Peters observed. "An
inscription?"
Gerry envisioned the photograph now, a pretty blonde
posed in the foreground for added enticement. "Crack
Reporter and Scientist Crack Alien Code!"
The only thing getting cracked around here, she thought,
was her head.
Peters could not hide his excitement. "These symbols are
not any language from Earth, Gerr. At least not the
language of anyone capable of this." He touched the
object for the first time. Gerry saw him minutely wince.
"The diagram is definitely some kind of star chart, only
laid out in super-cluster size." He paused. His eyes were
big and round. "Super-cluster sized," he repeated.
Gerry, unsure what all that meant, said, "Yeah?"
"Yeah. The central one, I think, may symbolize the Milky
Way." He pointed out a spiral-armed cluster. "This," he
said, "is definitely Andromeda, over here."
"How do you know?" Gerry said, thinking the two clusters
looked just alike.
"Because it's in the right place and set in the right
configuration."
Gerry thought that sounded absurd, then remembered the
pictures she had seen of the Andromeda cluster, and
thought maybe he was right. Seen half-turned away, and
from the top, Andromeda would look just what she saw on
the "tiles."
"But they're too close together," Peters mused,
distractedly, for which Gerry took his word. "This would
have been their positions," he shrugged, "maybe twelve
billion years ago."
Gerry hid her smile. Right, she thought. Eight billion
years.
"Come on, let's see what's inside."
"Do you think that's wise?" Gerry asked. Anything capable
of withstanding a meteoric landing was best not to mess
with. At least not here. "Pete--"
"Come on," he said, going around to the other side.
"Let's play around."
Let's play around in the cabin, she thought. Then she
said it aloud.
Peters looked up. His eyes said it all.
"Why the fuck didn't you call?" Gerry demanded. She sat
down on the ground, then began to cry. Gathering her
knees up to her chest, she began to cry in earnest. "I
waited until I thought," she got out between sobs, "that
maybe he went back to his wife. Maybe he needed her and
the two kids more than he needed me. Maybe he had to
think about his tenure and the respect of his colleagues
and maybe this stupid little shit just didn't deserve him
at all. And then you know what!" she shouted. "Then I
found out the wife and the kids were not in the house on
Long Island, but in some condo upstate! And that Mister
I'm-sorry-but-I-can't-make-it-up-this-weekend famous
astronomer was not sick and despondent but seeing another
woman! A Professional woman! Someone with stature!
Someone who wouldn't ride her ass up and down on his dick
and then suck him off afterwards! Someone who wouldn't
let him chase her up and down the Appalachian Trail in
the nude with a spanking across his knee if she's caught!
And I bet she sure as hell wouldn't--"
"Gerry!" he snapped. "Stop!"
And that's when Gerry let it all fall out and collapsed
on her side in the dirt.
THREE
"Are you better now?"
It was some time later and Gerry lay with her head in his
lap. She still sobbed with an occasional hiccup and a
hitching of breath, and her chest really hurt, but the
worst was done.
"I do not think you're a harlot," he said.
Gerry moved her head in a "yes you do" manner. She wanted
to suck her thumb. She wanted to suck his dick.
Peters stroked her hair.
"I'm sorry," she said, finally. "I really lost my cool."
"No, you didn't," he said, continuing to stroke her hair.
"It was unfair."
"It was the truth," he said, his voice tight and bitter.
Gerry looked up. "Are you and her still...?"
Peters shook his head.
Gerry returned her head to his lap. "Good," she said,
making them both sigh.
Peters stroked her hair, tucked loose strands behind her
ear. He had done that a lot at the cabin.
"So," she said, "are you seeing--"
"No."
Gerry said nothing. She looked deep into the woods. A doe
and a pair of speckled fawns stared back. That brought on
a smile. Gerry raised up. "You are an asshole!" she said,
and then Peters kissed her.
*
Some thirty minutes later, the "meteorite" wholly
forgotten, Gerry lay enclosed in Peter's arms. She was
semi-covered by her coat, but her rear end was bare and
so were her legs. She suffered a light but continual
shiver.
The doe and her fawns had gone.
"I'm so cold!" she chattered.
Both of them laughed.
"I have to get dressed."
"Stay here a while."
"You're not the one bare-assed for anyone to see!" she
whimpered.
"Stop whining. I hate it when you whine."
Gerry scrunched herself more tightly into her coat. She
worked her legs in between his. Peters was completely
clothed and Gerry completely nude, but the truth was, she
would not trade her place or this moment for any in the
world.
"I'm so glad you came," she whispered.
"So am I."
"I'm glad you fucked me," she said, bringing another
laugh.
"Gerry," he said, holding both the back of her neck and
the swell of her rear end. "You've got to gain some
weight."
Gerry whined, indecipherable.
"Stop that," he said.
For a time they lay quiet and content, Gerry shivering
happily. Peters was happy to let her. He always was the
dominant half.
Finally, Gerry rose up and gathered up her clothes.
Sitting between his legs, she put on her brassiere,
ashamed of her shrunken breasts.
"Jesus, Gerr," Peters clucked. "You're skin and bones."
Gerry mumbled, "Shut up."
As he always did, Peters fastened her bra. "You might as
well not wear one," he said.
"Shut up."
Stretching out her legs and then drawing them up, Gerry
slid into her panties. She wiggled them onto her rear.
She had not shaven in a month and she felt extremely
self-conscious. She would shave tonight, even if Peters
left.
Putting on her flannel shirt and buttoning it up, then
getting up with a hand from Peters, Gerry climbed into
her jeans and zipped them closed. Peters watched with
undisguised concern.
"Shut up!" she warned, slipping on her coat and then
buttoning it up. "I don't want to hear it."
Finally donning her boots, Gerry turned to face the
object.
"Back to this," she said.
*
Two hours later, Gerry and Dr.Peters sat exhausted,
humbled and defeated. The object had no doors. Their
efforts to get into the mysterious polyhedron had utterly
failed.
"Whatever it is," Peters groused, "they designed it
well." He wiped his brow. Despite the cold mountain air,
he'd broken a sweat.
"Who do you think made it?" Gerry asked, scraping her
nails. Four of them had broken, three on the left hand.
She'd have to clip them tonight.
"Who the hell knows. Not us."
"Do you think--"
"I don't know what to think!" Peters exploded.
Gerry leaned across and gave him her mouth. This settled
Peters in one respect, but excited him in another. Gerry
put her hand on his crotch.
"Cut that out," Peters said. "This is business."
"This is business too," Gerry whispered. She wanted his
tongue. Fuck that. . .she wanted his cock. "Take me to
bed," she moaned, pushing Peters onto his back. They made
out for ten luxuriant minutes and then Peters said: "We
can't."
Gerry said that she knew.
"We will when we get back to the cabin," Peters said.
Gerry said that she knew that as well.
Peters whispered conspiratorially into her ear and
Gerry's eyes opened wide. Then she laughed. Then she
giggled.
"Oh, my!" she choked. "You will?"
"You just watch me!"
Gerry looked at the polyhedron. "When can we go?" she
demanded.
*
Ten minutes later, they were back to sitting on their
rear ends. Peters had his fingers steepled, tapping them
gently against his lips. "You know," he said. "I don't
think that's metal at all."
"What is it, then?"
Peters laughed. "It's what it isn't."
Gerry waited.
Peters ticked off his points. "It isn't magnetic. It has
no metallic ring. It has not so much as a single scratch
upon its surface and what we used should have put one
there. When you tap on the side, there's no hollow ring.
But it isn't solid. We could never have moved it if it
was solid."
They had rolled the thing awkwardly out of the hole and
onto flat ground. It weighed almost nothing; Gerry easily
could have moved it herself.
Peters continued, "The surface shows no effects of
atmospheric reentry. Or entry, in any case. The heat
would have left scorch marks on the surface or it would
be partially melted. Nothing. And nothing will stick."
Rolling the polyhedron out of the hole, they were amazed
to find that--even the section dug out of the ground--
that it was spotlessly clean. Examined under
magnification, they'd seen no soiling at all.
"Even Teflon sticks to something!" Peters complained.
Gerry didn't correct him.
"Anyway, what I suspect is this is not matter at all, but
some kind of materialized force."
Gerry stypticly blinked.
"Energy that's been converted to a matter-like state,"
Peters explained. "But isn't really matter at all. What
physicists call force-crystalization."
Don't try to explain that to me, Gerry's eyes begged, and
Peters didn't.
106
"Can we open it?" Gerry said. "Ever?"
Peters shrugged. "If we were God."
Gerry took that to mean it was something man could
envision, but never achieve.
Peters stood up. "Let's go back to the cabin. We'll
decide what to do later."
Gerry stood up fast that Peters laughed.
What? her grin challenged.
On the way back to the path, Gerry led and Peters
followed her out. He kept her in check with a finger in
her back pocket--Gerry relished the touch. Even better,
Peters occasionally let his hand play over her ass, bring
Gerry to a low simmer. She loved her ass rubbed. She
loved her ass fucked. Tonight, she hoped, she'd get them
both.
By the time they made it back to the turnout, it had
grown dark; hers was the only car left. Looking back up
the mountain, Gerry remembered the eerie, shimmering glow
the object gave off. Suddenly, the idea of materialized
energy seemed not so odd.
What if it blew up?
As though reading her thoughts--or at least her face--
Peters said: "Don't worry. Anything capable of
maintaining cohesion in such an extreme state, has to be
stable. It couldn't exist otherwise."
"Then no one can set it off by kicking its tires?"
Peters laughed. "Remind me not to try."
Back at the cabin, they cleaned up, Peters showering
first, then Gerry. Not out of any sense of propriety, or
situational decorum, but because the cabin had only a
cramped shower stall. And Gerry wanted to shave. She came
out of the bathroom feeling clean, freshly vital, and
dizzy with anticipation. She tried not to let it show.
The main room with the loft above took up most of the
cabin; the kitchen was the size of the bathroom and
almost as cramped. With a postage stamp-sized stove and
an under the counter fridge--the dishwasher consisted of
Gerry's two hands and a dishtowel--it was a place Gerry
stayed clear of.
Standing in the middle of the cabin in her white robe and
a towel wrapping her hair, Gerry felt the best that she
had in a year. She took off the towel and Peters watched
thoughtfully as she brushed her hair. It was short now,
not shoulder length as when Peters last was here.
"You know that diagram?" she said. "I can't get it out of
my head."
107
Peters continued watching her brush. She was brushing now
just for him.
"That thing is not something that visits us every day,"
she said, feeling her robe open slightly. "Probably not
ever."
"I agree."
"Then we can assume its not suppose to be here now?"
"Let us presume."
"Then," she said, stopping to open her robe and then
cinch it back tight--Peters pupils flared and his hand
twitched on his leg, "we can also presume it's been sent
by some superior intelligence?"
Peters got to his feet. His mouth had a tentative grin,
but his eyes were intent.
Gerry playfully backed away. "Wait," she said.
"For what?"
"Later."
"The future is now."
"I want to cook you some dinner," Gerry protested.
"I'll take it now."
Crossing to where Gerry stood, Peters took her brush and
threw it aside. Then he kissed her neck. Then he kissed
that place in the shadow of her neck than made Gerry
moan. Her heart pounded hard and her chest rose and fell.
I want you so bad, she thought. So very, very bad.
Picking her up and carrying her to the surprisingly large
couch, Peters lay Gerry down and lay down upon her. He
opened her robe and he opened her legs, and taking her
wrists, held her hands up above her.
"Ohhhh, God, " she moaned. She ground her clitoris
against his hardened cock. The bulge of it spread her
lips, grinding hard against the flesh between. Inflamed
by the rush of blood and the outpouring of hormones, her
flesh grew molten.
"Oh, God! Oh, God!" she choked, sucking in breath. Her
orgasm began and began to grow stronger. Peters put his
hands in her hands and entwined their fingers, and Gerry
raised up, arched like a bow. And still Peters maddened
her with his pent up cock.
"Fuck me!" she begged. "Please, Peter! Fuck me!"
Peters removed his cock from his trousers and put it into
her vagina. Gerry began to fuck like a maddened dog. Her
hands went to where Peters had held them against the
armrest and clutched the armrest tight. They dug in like
talons. Raising until only her feet and her head touched
the couch, she exploded in astounding brilliance as sperm
erupted inside her.
Every woman deserves consideration at a moment like this,
and Gerry will get it.
*
It was four hours later. Spent, aching, mentally as well
as physically drained, Gerry lay outstretched on the
floor. Her chest rose and fell in a smooth, not-quite-
effortless rhythm. Her heart beat visibly beneath her
chest. Her small breasts, sporting a number of bite marks
and bruise-colored hickeys, were tipped with small silver
clamps. They ached, but Gerry enjoyed the pain. Just to
be in it was enough.
A similar device was between her legs, but instead of a
small silver clamp, the nub of her clitoris and the
surrounding tissues were encased in a clear plastic hood.
This in turn was hooked to a small vacuum pump which,
humming softly, had her captured flesh florid with blood.
Gerry reacted with a low, continual shudder.
"That's enough," Peters said. He turned off the pump.
Gerry pleaded, "Noooo!"
Peters removed the plastic hood. He marveled at the
effect. Gerry had been in continual orgasm since seven
o'clock. Or so it seemed.
Gerry moaned again. "Peter!"
"I said, no more. This isn't a healthful thing."
Grinning with her eyes closed, Gerry said, "My life in a
nutshell."
Peters examined her over-used and raw-looking pussy.
Tomorrow, he knew, she'd have a stiff-legged gait. If she
could walk at all. And what he had done to her ass. . .
Rising to a sitting position, Peters removed the clamps
from her nipples--she again moaned in protest--and drew
Gerry up. She could barely stand.
"My God," she said, putting a hand to her forehead. She
stood slightly bent, her rear end pushed out and her
knees hobbled like those of a newly born foal. Peters
covered her up with her robe.
"Put this on," he said, threading in her arms. He cinched
her up in the front and guided her over to the couch. Her
movements were uncertain, as though unsure where she even
was.
"You okay?" he asked.
She laughed shakily. "No."
"Something to drink?"
She laughed again. "Other than your sperm?"
Going into the kitchen, Peters returned with a Samuel
Adams beer for them both. He screwed off both caps.
"Here," he said, putting the bottle against her brow.
Gerry moaned thankfully and leaned in against him close.
He'd used a cold bottle on her before, but not on her
forehead. "Thank you," she murmured.
"Ay-yup."
For a time they just sat, Gerry draped on his shoulder.
Her vagina ached and her rectum ached even worse.
Tomorrow. . .well, tomorrow would be a challenge.
"Carry me up to bed?" she murmured.
That couldn't be done, of course, not with the loft, but
Peters got her drift. Picking her up in his arms, he
carried her to the base of the stairs, and then assisted
her up. He then assisted her out of the robe and into her
feety-pajamas. Peters loved Gerry in her feety-pajamas.
They slept until seven a.m.
FOUR
They were halfway down the path when Gerry remembered
something Peters had said.
"That diagram. . .you said it corresponded to when the
universe was young?"
"Yes," Peters said. His breath came out a fine mist,
drifting back over his shoulder. A cold front had moved
in overnight, leaving a light frost.
Gerry winced with every step, her gait awkward and slow.
Her face that morning had stayed mostly a glowing red,
her words a bedeviled, "Stop it!" or an exasperated "No!"
or a "Cut it out!" as Peters roasted her over her
condition. He had really worked her out.
"You didn't mean the thing was made back then?" she
asked. "Did you?"
Peters looked caught by surprise. "No," he said, though a
troubling look flicked over his face. "It's just, you
know, you couldn't get much detail onto something that
size if it was made to scale."
"The universe has expanded then?" Gerry said.
"Well, of course, it's expanded, dummy," Peters said,
laughing. "Everyone knows that."
Gerry gave him a crusty look. "That's not what I meant."
Peters apologized and went on: "The other galaxies lie at
enormous distances from our own. The nearest one is more
than a million light years away--Andromeda--and the
others are much farther still. Most, but not all, are
moving away. We've been able to determine through
spectral shift which ones are receding the fastest, and
are therefore the farthest away. It's called spectral Red
Shift."
I know what it's called, Gerry wanted to say. I'm not
illiterate. "How far is the farthest?"
Peters stopped at Gerry's red hair bob. "About thirteen
billion light years," he said. "Hubble just found the
most distant one yet. It's rate of recession relative to
us--" Peters worked his way gingerly through some briars,
"--is almost the speed of light."
Despite herself, Gerry wanted to whistle. "Then, it's
just a coincidence," she said, "that the groupings are so
close together."
"Like I said," Peters remarked. "If it were set to scale,
the thing would have obliterated the Earth."
108
109
Nearing the crash site, Peters suddenly faltered in his
step and halted. Gerry, following close behind and intent
on the sticker bushes attacking her legs, bumped right up
against him. She staggered back.
"What's the matter?" she asked.
Peters rubbed his brow. "I don't know," he muttered
slowly, "I just got..."
"Got what?"
Peters's eyes were unfocused and his mouth hung dully
open, scaring Gerry a little.
"Pete? Ferdinand?" she said, shaking his arm. Gerry only
used Peters's given name when agitated or as a tease.
"What's the matter?"
"I just had... I just had a sudden insight on how that
thing would open."
Gerry's looked went from concerned to skeptical. "You
did?"
"Yeah, like right out of the blue. Something to do with
barium oxide, phosphoric acid, and phosgene gas."
"What are those?" Gerry inquired.
Peters gave her a blank, bewildered stare. "I'm not
really sure."
110
Moving on in silence, they emerged into the clearing
where the enigmatic polyhedron sat glowing. Suddenly,
Peters burst into laughter.
"Of course!" he cried. "I know how to open it! It's
simple as hell!"
Gerry stared at him opened mouth. Now she really was
sacred. "How can you know that?" she demanded.
"I just do," Peter's answered with brisk confidence.
Rubbing his hands together, he said: "I need to order
some supplies. Get my note pad out of the bag, will you?"
he said, striding off toward the object.
"Yes, sir," Gerry grumbled. She felt like snapping off a
salute. But she watched Peter's inspection of the
polyhedron's facets with something akin to dread.
He touched that thing, she suddenly thought. The memory
was as clear and as hard as a diamond. He touched that
thing and he grimaced. She remembered his sudden
expression of. . .what? Disgust? Fear?
"Pete," she said, hurrying over and taking his arm. "I
want you to do something,"
Peters almost ignored her. He ticked away at one of the
groups of dots with his finger. "What?"
"I want you come with me back to the path."
111
"What the hell for?" he demanded. "I want to get this
thing figured out and opened."
"I want to get it opened too," Gerry lied. "But this is
important. Come with me, will you?"
The look Peters flashed her verged on contempt, but Gerry
was too scared to be hurt. "Come on," she urged, taking
his hand. "Humor me."
Peters let loose an exaggerated sigh. "Women! Damned
fools, every one." But he let her lead him away.
"I'll tell you what," Gerry said, pulling him along
behind her into the trees. "If what I'm thinking is
wrong, I'll let you come in my mouth."
Peters was momentary shocked, but instantly recovered. "I
did that last night," he gibed. "If you don't remember."
Despite her fear, Gerry turned a bright cherry red. An
abashed grin took over her face. "I remember," she
muttered, remembering also where it been just prior to
her mouth."But I'll do it right there on the path--naked-
-and this time I'll swallow!"
Peters broke out in a laugh. "Please, God!" he exclaimed,
steepling his hands and looking toward the heavens. "Let
her be wrong! Please! Let her be wrong!"
Arriving back at the path, Gerry still bore her glow. She
fidgeted from one foot to the other, while Peters just
stood there and grinned. Cut it out! her crooked eyebrows
said.
Smugly, Peters said: "So, what was it you wanted to show
me?"
Gerry said, "Do you still know how to get into the
polyhedron?"
"Of course I know how to--" He stopped abruptly and
abruptly blinked his eyes. He looked almost panicked. "I
don't understand," he mumbled, looking back and forth up
the path and then back toward the crash site. "A few
minutes ago I was completely damned sure, now I don't
even know exactly what I was thinking."
"I thought so," Gerry said softly. A sudden chill ran up
her spine. "When you're at or near the polyhedron, you
understand a process that's beyond human science. But as
soon as you're a distance away, the knowledge goes away.
Do you see what that means?"
Peters' face showed reluctant comprehension. "You think
that something--something in that thing is telling me how
to get it open?"
Gerry slowly bobbed her head. "If something is inside
that thing Pete, it's something that can't open it from
the inside." She emphasized her next words. "I think it
would be a really made mistake to do its bidding, don't
you?"
Gerry suddenly remembered an episode of the old Outer
Limits television show that she had seen as a child. A
space ship carrying banished alien prisoners had crash-
landed on Earth, setting free a bunch eight-legged freaks
in an isolated stretch of desert. A cross between foot-
long ants and Gilligan of Gilligan's Island, the
creatures were finally wiped out by their human prey, but
not before wrecking havoc. She never forgot the Zanti
Misfits, nor their horrible human-like faces.
112
"We'll go back," she said, almost in a whisper. "And if
you know how to open than thing up, we'll know we were
right."
For a number of seconds they stood silent in the cold
morning sunlight, smelling the pine trees around them and
the faint smell of burnt grass. Then they walked
silently, hesitatingly back toward the site and its
cryptic polyhedron. The hair on Gerry's' neck arose and,
entering the clearing, she wanted badly to run.
Peters suddenly turned a white face toward Gerry. "You
were right," he said, gulping. "I'm back here and
suddenly I know how to open it up again." He turned his
white face toward the object. "Something inside there--
something that was locked up inside, ages ago--is telling
me it wants its freedom."
Gerry felt a sudden alien terror. "We have to get out of
here!" she whispered, in a terror-shaken voice. "This
thing is absolute evil!"
Four steps they backed away, then suddenly Gerry broke
and run. She let out a low keening yell as Peters
scrambled to catch up.
"Gerry, wait!"
Nuh-uh! No way! Gerry thought, shaking her head, but she
couldn't ignore the sudden, heart-stopping command that
exploded in her head:
"WAIT!"
Gerry screeched to a halt and got knocked flat by Peters.
"What the hell was that!" Peters shrilled.
Staring back at the object from the ground, Gerry didn't
want to know. All she wanted was to get back on her feet
and run.
"Wait!"
The word, a desperate plea, was much softer now, but
stronger than any spoken work. Gerry looked at Peters who
looked at the polyhedron that had talked to them both.
"This is fucked," Peters whispered.
"Hear me out," the mind-voice begged. "Let me at least
explain!"
"Let's get out of here while we still can!" Gerry hissed.
"Whatever's in that thing, whatever is talking to our
minds, Pete, it isn't human. . .it isn't even from our
space." Gerry was sure of this--as sure as she was that
her mother and father had brought her kicking and
screaming into the world. A world that was now on the
verge of disaster.
But Peters was looking fascinatedly back at the object,
his face twisted with conflicting emotions. "I'm going to
stay," he said, "and listen to what it has to say."
"Pete! No!"
"If you were a scientist you'd understand." Peters said.
He walked slowly back toward the object.
"If you weren't a scientist, you would understand," Gerry
pleaded. "Now, please! Let's go!"
Peters kept walking forward. Gerry, torn between her
terror and her love for the man, slowly got up and
brushed herself off. Her short was torn. "This is a big
mistake," she muttered. Then she called: "At least don't
do anything until we decide what's inside!"
Peter's nodded his agreement.
113
As she neared the glowing polyhedron, feeling as though
the ordinary sunlit day were perhaps the last of her
life, the thoughts from within the object bore more
strongly into Gerry's mind.
"I am thankful that you have stayed. Please come closer
to the polyhedron. It is only through immense mental
effort that I can penetrate the shield."
Numbly, Gerry followed Peters to the side of the object.
She felt like Stephen King's proverbial, "cow in the
slaughterhouse chute."
"Remember," she whispered hoarsely to Peters, "no matter
what it tells us, no matter what it promises, don't open
it up!"
The scientist nodded unsteadily. "I'm just as afraid of
it as you are, Gerr."
The mind-voice said: "I am a prisoner in this
contrivance, as you have guessed. For a time almost
longer than you can comprehend, I have endured this
imprisonment. Now I am upon your world and need your
assistance to escape, but I sense that you have great
fear. If I disclose to you who I am, and how I come to be
here, you will not be so afraid. I wish you to know these
things."
Gerry felt as though she stood in the nightmare world of
Freddy Krueger. She could almost imagine the tines of his
sharpened blades penetrating the case from the inside.
"What I wish to convey to you will best be understood by
the use of visual pictures, as well as by spoken words. I
do not know the capacity of your minds for reception of
such pictures, but I will attempt to make them clear.
"Do not attempt to think about what you see," the mind-
voice cautioned. "Merely allow your minds to remain in a
receptive condition. Hopefully, you will understand some
of what I show you; my thoughts will accompany the visual
impressions."
Gerry felt sudden panic as the world disappeared beneath
her feet. The polyhedron, the sunlit scene, the ground
and the blue sky were replaced by the black vault of
space--a lightless, airless void.
114
Below her--far, far below--there floated a colossal cloud
of stars. In the shape of a softly compressed orb, its
stars could be counted only by the billions of billions
"This is the universe as it was," the voice informed her,
"fourteen billion years ago. The stars you now identify
as individual galaxies were gathered together in a super-
cluster, a mere million light years across."
Gerry rocketed downward toward the mighty swarm at a
mind-bending speed, into the cluster itself. She beheld
that many of the stars had planets orbiting around them
and that many of the planets were inhabited.The
inhabitants were sentient beings of force, each one a
tall, disk-crowned pillar of brilliant blue light,
immortal, the voice told her, passing through space and
matter at will. They were the only sentient beings in the
cosmos. The super-galaxy and all its matter and energy
was entirely at their command.
Now Gerry's viewpoint shifted to a world near the center
of the swarm. There she observed a single creature of
force engaged in a new and unprecedented experiment upon
matter. The creature sought to build new variations of
structure, combining and recombining atoms in infinite
permutations.
Suddenly, the creature came upon a combination of atoms
that gave strange results. The matter moved of its own
accord and was able to receive stimuli and to remember
the stimuli and to act upon it itself. It was also able
to assimilate matter into itself and so to grow. The
experimenter named this new matter by a name that
solidified itself in Gerry's mind as "life."
As the diseased matter expanded and assimilated more and
more of the ordinary matter around it, the experimenter
became alarmed. Deciding this new form of matter must be
immediately destroyed, he set about this task, only to
erroneously set it free. Escaping from the experimenter's
lab, this strange new pestilence of life began to spread
over all the planet. Everywhere it spread, infecting the
surrounding environment until, despite the force-
creature's best efforts at eradication, the planet had to
be abandoned.
The pestilence grew worse. Spores, driven by the push of
light to other suns and to other planets, spread out in
all directions. The pestilence was adaptable, taking on
different forms as required to live on different worlds.
It propagated itself, growing always, infecting more and
more of the super-cluster's non-organic life.
115
For every world the force-creatures stamped out life, it
spread to two others. Always, some hidden spore escaped.
Soon, nearly all of the worlds of the central super-
cluster were leprous with the plague; the entire universe
was at risk.
A radical solution was required.
A radical solution was proposed.
On the advice of the experimenting force-creature--for
his talents and imagination were truly great--it was
resolved to apply a great rotational force to the
cluster. This the force-beings did by their own radiance
of life, sacrificing great numbers of themselves in order
to save the rest. They set the super-cluster to spinning,
accelerating it over time until the outward momentum
offset the centrifical force, breaking the cluster apart.
Gerry witnessed that break-up from high above, watching
as the colossal, spinning cloud of stars disintegrated,
sending uncountable numbers of these new, smaller
galaxies free of the parent form, until at last, nothing
remained but a pogrom of infected life, an immense,
quarantined, blighted galaxy unto itself.
And still this pogrom turned. This pogrom which bore the
spiral form caused by its initial rotation. Within it
now, the infestation had spread to nearly every world.
And the rest of the universe watched.
"I was banished," the mind-voice said with unfathomable
sadness. "As unleasher of the plague, I was to be forever
imprisoned within this energy shell, to wander unguided
and unknown among the many stars, never to be found."
116
Gerry watched the glowing polyhedron float aimlessly
through space, from one end of the galaxy to the other,
drifting always at the whim of passing light, as years
stretched from millennia into eons, and then into epochs.
The other galaxies sped farther and farther away, while
the pestilence loose in the central galaxy covered every
possible world. Only this one force-creature remained,
imprisoned eternally in its polyhedron-cage.
Suddenly Gerry was back in the cold sunlit world,
standing beside the polyhedron. She was dazed, wobbly on
her feet, and seriously in need of a pee. Beside her on
his knees, Peters was busy at some form of triangular-
shaped contraption. It had copper piping and ebony-
colored tubes, and an acrid-smelling smoke rising from a
hole centered in the top. Scattered across the ground
were several empty canisters, two marked with a skull and
crossbones on a bright yellow field.
"Pete, no!" she screamed as Peters dropped a handful of
brown pellets into the smoking hole. A yellow beam leaped
from the ebony colored tube, striking the polyhedron's
side.
Immediately, an intense flash of yellow spread across the
faceted surface and as Gerry was picked up and flung
through the air, the polyhedron dissolved in that saffron
flare.
The thing which had been imprisoned since almost the
beginning of time, erupted in an eighty-foot pillar of
blazing blue light, crowned by a disk of even light even
brighter. It loomed in ethereal splendor in the sudden
darkness, for with its bursting forth, the noonday sun
had snapped off like turned-off bulb. The creature
swirled and spun in awful, alien glory as Gerry and
Peters both screamed and flung their hands up over their
eyes.
117
There was a wave of colossal exultation, a joy vaster
than any human joy, an absolute triumph as the creature
flashed upward into the heavens like a lightning bolt of
blue. And as it did so, Gerry's darkening brain failed
and she staggered into blissful, thank-you-so-much-God
unconsciousness.
FIVE
Gerry opened her eyes to the bright noonday light. It
streamed through the window beside her and flooded the
cabin. Somewhere nearby, the breathless, self-important
voice of a female radio announcer blared from her alarm
clock radio. It was the only radio Gerry had at the
cabin; she had no TV. As she lay there unmoving, un-
remembering for the present time, the breathless voice
hurried on:
"As far as can be told, the area affected extended from
Montreal to the north, as far south as Scranton,
Pennsylvania, and from Buffalo in the West to some miles
out into the Atlantic Ocean beyond Boston.
"It lasted less than ten seconds," the announcer said,
"but in the affected area there was a complete absence of
sunlight and a complete loss of electricity. Every piece
of machinery in the area ceased to function. Cars,
trucks--airplanes!--everything went completely dead!"
Gerry sat up with a start, experiencing a sudden,
overwhelming feeling of dread.
"Four aircraft did crash," the announcer continued, "but
luckily, none were commercial airliners and only two
suffered a loss of life. One, a twin engine Cessna
Skyplane crashed on takeoff from Massemeequa County
Airport in upstate New York--"
Gerry swung her feet out of the bunk and onto the floor.
"--the other a Gulfstream jet came down several hundred
feet short of the runway. Authorities with the National
Transportation Safety Board say--"
"Take it easy," Peters warned.
Looking up to find him leaning out the kitchen doorway--
he had an achingly sunburned face and on his hands too!--
Gerry gasped in relief. She had somehow forgotten not
only where she was and why she was there, but that Peters
even existed. Attempting to get up, she let Peters push
her back into a seated position.
"I mean it," he said, softly but firmly. "Stay put."
Gerry realized she was sunburned as well.
"What happened?" she said.
Peters observed her carefully. "What do you remember?"
Gerry described her awful dream.
"It wasn't a dream," Peters said.
From the clock radio across the room--was Peters actually
standing there in her apron and holding a dishtowel and
plate?--the announcer finished up:
"No one yet knows the cause of this amazing event,
although some scientists say it it may be due to freak
solar activity or some sort naturally occurring
phenomena. Of course, the psychics and the doomsayers are
having a field day..."
Gerry clung to the edge of the bunk, feeling as though
she might fall off. She was unaccountably famished and
thirsty--thirsty in particular---and her tongue felt like
a sand dune.
"Why did you do it?" she demanded.
Peters did not blink an eye.
"You could have killed every person on Earth," she
accused.
Still, Peters did not say a word.
"Pete!"
"You don't know..." he said, finally.
"Know what?"
"How long you were in there."
Gerry was caught up short.
"What do you mean?"
"What day is it, Gerry?"
Gerry looked around in consternation. "Well, uh...
Wednesday?"
Peters shook his head. "Friday."
Now Gerry really was confused.
"Did you think I just clapped my hands and the
ingredients appeared?" Peters asked.
"What?"
"The piping and the chemicals and the Ebonite rods."
Gerry remembered the homemade-looking gadget. "I thought--"
"I didn't bring the stuff with me, Gerr." Peters sat
down. He put his arm gently around her waist and snugged
her up to him. "When you first disappeared--"
Gerry's eyes opened wide.
"--I almost went into a panic. I picked up a hammer and
started trying to break into the case." He laughed
bitterly. "The creature said that I might as well attack
a planet with a toothpick." Tears formed in his eyes and
then he began to cry.
"Pete," she said, taking his face in her hands. "What
happened? Tell me."
"It was going to keep you in there, Gerr," he sobbed,
expressing it with such sorrow that Gerry's heart broke.
"Until the end of time if I didn't get it out!"
Gerry suddenly understood why the world had stopped
existing beneath her feet and why it had just as suddenly
reappeared. Nothing--nothing imaginable--could frighten
her more than that.
"It said it had you inside a protective oxygen shell, but
that the oxygen would last only a short time. Once it was
gone, in order for you to live, it had to convert you
into an energy form similar to itself, and then you could
never come back. Releasing you would release your
converted energy."
Gerry tried to imagine what one hundred and two pounds--
probably not quite that much now--of Gerry Abrams
released as pure energy would do.
"I had barely twenty four hours to find the materials I
needed, and get the device built."
"Pete, it's all right," she whispered, but Peters went
on.
"The graphite and the carbon and the Reagent grade
chemicals were easy to find. But I had to fly in the
Ebonite all the way from Turkmekistan, Gerr--it had to be
a perfect grade. Then I had to hire someone to polish it
and bore out the center and if it had broke. . ."
"Pete! It's all right!" she insisted.
Hitching air into his lungs and clutching both of Gerry's
hands in his own, Peters struggled for breath. Finally,
after half a dozen deep breaths, he said: "The thing let
you out five seconds before I triggered the device. If
you had been inside. . ." Peters shuddered.
Gerry understood for the first time how much she really
loved this man. She kissed him on the mouth. "So that's
why I had to pee so bad," she joked, touching her
forehead to his.
Shakily, Peter laughed. "That's why you're not wearing
the same pants."
"I'm not wearing pants at all," Gerry said. "I'm sitting
here in my panties."
"I changed those too," he said.
Gerry laughed. Then she kissed him again. Then they made
love.
*
"So where did he go?" Gerry asked, sometime later.
Peters breathed deeply by her side. "To join his own."
Gerry looked out the cabin window into the vast blackness
of space. "That's a long way," she whispered. "A long,
long way. Do you think he'll ever succeed?"
Peters shrugged. "Eventually. He is immortal."
Gerry lay looking out the window, considering. "So
everyone has it wrong. About the universe, about the Big
Bang, about life itself."
"Yes," Peters muttered. And then, rolling Gerry atop
himself and drawing up her legs, he filled her first with
the fountain of life, and then with life itself.
THE END
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 22