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Dynamic Drake Goes Down at Devil’s Reef
It popped out unexpectedly when Dymanite Drake opened his packet of cereal. At first he was grateful he was alone today. He didn’t think any of his bevy of lady visitors would appreciate the sight of a fat flaccid dildo first thing in the morning.
Then he realized it wasn’t a fat flaccid dildo. Rather it was a fat flaccid bratwurst.
Even more oddly it was a fake fat flaccid bratwurst. And with so many F’s in the description it could only mean one thing—Ferocious Furball was attempting to get in touch with him.
This minor fact would explain why the cute chick at the local grocery store insisted on exchanging his packet of Crunchie Crunch cereal even though there was absolutely nothing wrong with it. And it goes a lot further to explain why she changed it for a packet of Soggy Goo Goo.
Soggy Goo Goo was one of Drake’s least favorite foods which would explain why he’d had the packet now for five weeks before even opening it. (He’d basically run out of staple food supplies in the house and was resorting to last resorts.)
Of course the events leading up to his getting Furball’s urgent message five weeks late would explain it’s rather exceedingly flaccid state. Which, though normally flaccid to a certain degree it shouldn’t have been more flaccid than a flaccid wiener, if you know what that means.
Okay, so he received the top priority highly secret message from Furball five weeks late. But knowing Furball’s tendency to worry and do things way too early it probably meant he would still have plenty of time to respond. He could read the message now but it would be much clearer if he could find his specially stale weiner bun which PIACT set aside for just such an occasion as this. (This took a little while since it had fallen off the shelf four years ago and was stuck behind a rather antiquated and very heavy refrigerator which took several hours to move.)
When he had made all the appropriate preparations Drake was finally ready to listen to Furball’s message sometime well into the late afternoon. Hey, he was already late by five weeks, surely it wouldn’t hurt to have waited another five hours?
Stuffing the bratwurst into the bun he quickly stuck them both into the microwave and switched it on. After a few moments the sophisticated micro-circuitry within the bratwurst flickered alive and activated the glass paneling in the front of the microwave which burst into life just like a computer monitor.
There, in true MCY color was an old bedsheet backlit with an antiquated anglepoise lamp with something that might have been Furball’s silhouette on it. The PIACT CTR agents had taken a few financial hits since the recent sell out—probably another reason why the message bratwurst was so flaccid. He’d be willing to bet it was QQ’s old stock going cheap.
Fortunately Drake’s second job as a marital aids salesman kept him pretty much in the money and he didn’t need that huge a salary from the Angels. Not to mention the other, uh, benefits of being a door to door seller of sex toys...
“So you finally opened the package to respond to me did you?”
Oh, oh, sounds like the prerecorded message had real-time technology attached to it. Damn. Well, hopefully it didn’t contact base to let them know when he’d opened it.
The Furball image made an exaggerated gesture of looking at his watch.
“So, what is it? Five weeks, three days and nine hours too late to be precise. And you were supposed to have been in Jamaica no later than three hours ago.”
Ooops. Maybe spending time find the special bun did make a difference.
“Well, not much we can do to make up for your stupidity. We did, after all, make sure we chose your favorite cereal to place the message in.”
Aah, yes. Drake kept quiet about that one. He’d figured PIACT Central had become a little too nosey asking questions about his breakfast tastes. So he’d put his favorite cereal last and his least favorite…
Hmmm. That would also help explain the five week delay. Okay, so maybe that hadn’t been his most intelligent decision but Drake hated it when questions got too personal.
“Still, the damage, immense as it is, has been done. By now SPLAT have probably finished building the first stage of their ‘This is going to destroy the world’ weapon. You’ll just have to go over and pick up Formidable Fox and Lightning Lynx—if they’re still there. Maybe you’ll get lucky…
“…let me rephrase that. Maybe you’ll be fortunate enough to find a way of destroying the SPLAT base before they can instigate stage two of the destruction of the world.”
“Well, where are they?” Drake asked impatiently, after all he’d been waiting five weeks for this.
“And if you’re wondering where they are you’ll probably still find them on the Jamaican beaches near to Ocho Rios. The base is submerged over there next to the Devil’s Reef.”
“Oh, good. Sun, sand and margarit…”
“And don’t dare treat this like a vacation. If I see so much as one swim suit or margarita anywhere near you in the reports, your marital aids business will be the only thing left sticking up.”
“P.S. if they’re not out of date yet. Your airline tickets and hotel bookings are tucked somewhere beneath the innards of your Soggy Goo Goo. And this bratwurst will self-destruct when you eat it.”
Oh great. Drake sighed. The last secret message bratwurst he’s eaten had left tiny wires stuck between his teeth for weeks and gave him the worst indigestion in like, wow-ever.
Just then the microwave sparked, and burst into flames. Some quick action with a handy fire extinguisher and a wet blanket and the situation was under control. Fortunately the damage to his kitchen wasn’t impressive, and the bratwurst was a cindered lump of charcoal.
He wasn’t too sad about throwing the piece of charcoal down the kitchen waste disposal. A feeling, going by the sound of it, which wasn’t mirrored by the waste disposal unit which burped, hiccup and made a long keening dying sound.
Rummaging around in the contents of the Soggy Goo Goo box he located a small plastic bag holding several useful bits of paper. Fortunately the airline ticket wasn’t specifically dated the provisional booking still gave him another four weeks in which he could use it. All he had to do was call the airline and book a date, provided he didn’t mind traveling by luggage class—obviously another cost cutting exercise by the financially stricken CTR Angel’s offices. Whatever luggage class was he didn’t think he was going to like it too much.
Then there was the deal about what to take. Now it was always useful to take some of his marital aids as part of his cover. Not to mention he was generally welcomed almost everywhere when he took a buzzy or two—at least by the female population and since they took up about half of the world that was pretty fair odds.
He’d have to see if Lynx and Fox would like to test out his new design, the Errant William—a two tone, multispeed vibrator with just a touch of royalty. Rumor had it the shape had been cast from a particular personage who wouldn’t be named. But then maybe the two agents wouldn’t have time between interviewing the locals for SPLAT activity.
Okay, that settled, he dropped the tickets into his wallet, called his shipping office and had them ship out a couple of cases of samples to Ocho Rios and then called the airline confirming his date and time of departure. He was rather surprised to find there was a seat vacant for the flight in two hours time. If he would just get there they’d make a space just for him. Cool! Luggage class must be rather classy after all if he was getting this kind of immediate attention.
Throwing a few essentials into a small carry-on bag, things like spare batteries, booze, bendy condoms, bathroom kits bathing suits and anything else he could think of that began with a “B” he threw the bag into his souped up Volkswagen Beetle–the classy new design–and headed for Amsterdam Airport Schiphol.
It was a sedate little ride with only about fifteen near misses with various mentally unstable drivers attempting to cross the four lanes of traffic in two seconds, but Drake eventually found himself outside the departure terminals. There he handed over the keys to his precious automobile to the capable fingers of a skinny ginger haired, freckled-face kid who looked like he was almost sixteen years old.
“I’ll tak reet gud care of ‘er.” He spoke in a very good imitation of British cockney. “Don’t ‘ee worry guv.”
As the Beetle vanished in a squeal of tires and smoke Drake turned to the young lady standing behind the Cheep Flites Airline ticket counter.
“Hi.” He smiled his winning I want to go to bed with you smile. “We, I mean, I have a reservation. The name’s Drake, Dynamic Drake.”
“Of course Mr. Drake.” The girl blushed and simpered as two young airline baggage handlers stopped behind him and opened up a fairly large sized crate. The young girl tapped a few buttons on her computer terminal. “If you would just step in here.”
“Ooof!” Drake doubled over as a punching glove shot out from the counter and struck him in the stomach. “Unh!” he added as a wooden mallet whacked him on the head and he fell backwards into the huge crate waiting for him.
“Thank you for traveling Cheep Flite’s Luggage class.” The young lady stamped his forehead with a rubber stamp. “We hope you enjoy your flight.”
“So much for Furball’s cost cutting.” Drake thought miserably just before he lost consciousness and the lid of the crate locked shut above him.
It had been a wonderful flight. He was sure of it, though he couldn’t remember one moment. He did remember waking up in the arrival lounge of a very small airport with a bunch of hairy, smelly tourists and their squalling kids. One of whom was attempting to beat him to death with a plastic baseball bat.
“Leave the drunk alone, Matt,” His mother scolded. “Goodness knows what diseases he carries. We’ll have to sterilize your bat now.”
Groggily Drake grimaced and shook his head to good effect. The kid went screaming back to his mother who’d turned rather pale when she saw Drake move.
Not that he moved too far. His head felt like a mule had kicked him. Nah, it was just jet lag. He felt the lump on his head carefully—jet lag with a kick like a mule.
Collecting his carry-on, someone had rifled through it and dumped it on the floor beside him. A quick check reassured him that nothing was missing except the bendy condom and good luck to them if they tried to use that. He made his way to the airport exit. Fortunately he still had his wallet, and what little he had in Jamaican currency. It should be enough to get him to the Hotel Whadawhopper. A huge modern edifice named after Helios Bigdicker, Jamaican’s famous porn movie star.
He didn’t quite get as far as the taxi rank before he went on full alert. Two well endowed bikini clad women arrowed toward him from different parts of the arrival lounge. So perfect in looks and sex appeal they had to be part of SPLAT’s infamous droid clones.
As unprepared as he was he needed to escape before they could climax him to death.
Slipping into a nearby phone booth he rummaged in his carry-on for the bouncy beard and brushed moustache. Sticking them on his face he quickly reversed direction, secure in the knowledge that no one would be able to see through his disguise.
He’d made it as far as the second taxi cab before he felt two bodies appear at his side, each one slipping an arm around his as they directed him to a less populated part of the airport.
Drake swallowed. What would it be like to be doomed to an endless bout of orgasms? Would he get a chance to take a rest between sessions? Who did these lovely androids work for? Would Furball ever forgive him? Why did his cock have to be rock hard just anticipating all of it?
“Look natural and just do as we say,” The delectable lady on his right whispered. “We think they may be watching.”
Drake watched the top of her perfect globes as they bobbled and bounced ready to fall out of her bikini top.
“Erk!” he agreed.
“Yes,” the delicious lady on his left confirmed. “Danger is everywhere.”
With about three square inches of her lickable flesh covered by bikini Drake could only nod, mesmerized, as they began to walk him away to the parking lot in a nearby goat field.
“Uhn. Uhn. Uhn.” Drake answered, eyes going up and down with each bounce of the girl’s upper endowments. He was totally and completely doomed if he couldn’t get away from these two lethal temptresses.
“UhnUhnUhnUhnuhnuhnuhnuhn.” He repeated as the first droid hopped over a small ditch, bouncing as she landed.
The sight was such a shock to his system that he failed to see where he was walking and tripped, landing face first in what smelled like a latrine ditch.
“Marvine! Oh, Marvine! There you are! Now, I warned you about going wandering off before I got here. Aren’t you lucky I found you before you’d gone too far?”
“What? Ah, yes, yes very lucky.”
Saved! Drake couldn’t tell if it was Lynx or Fox who’d come to his rescue but the raven haired beauty who was lifting him to his feet was worth every second he spent looking at her.
The two droids looked somewhat alarmed and upset to see him taken out of their clutches. Well, yah boo shucks. Tough luck. He, Dynamic Drake, aka Marvine, was outta here.
“Thank you!” Drake almost hugged his savior as she led him to a red Porsche she had tucked up around the back of the airport. “I think you saved my life.”
“You’re welcome.” She stared at him, smiling sexily. “So far they’ve taken every available man in this dump. I had to save at least one for myself. And when I saw you put on that silly disguise to try and avoid them I knew I had to come and get you.”
“Uhm, silly disguise?”
“That black moustache and white beard really don’t match your brown hair.”
“Oh,” Drake scratched his fake beard thoughtfully. “I hadn’t considered that.” Maybe he should have gone for the brown beard and moustache, but where was the fun in that?
“Here, let me take them off.” The woman reached out and gently pulled the offending articles away, somehow her touch promised a thousand sensual delights with such a simple and innocent movement.
“Ah, thank you.” Drake shifted uncomfortably trying to get something into a comfortable position. “And thank you, again, for rescuing me. My name’s Drake. Dynamic Drake.”
“Nice to meet you Drake. I’m Kitty Klaws.” She licked her lips and looked at his crotch in a way that let him know she knew exactly why he was wriggling like he was and that she knew exactly what she wanted. She looked rather pleased as she stared at the lump in his pants. “So what are you doing in Ocho Rios?”
Drake adjusted his position again, making her smile even wider. “I’m, er, drumming up business I hope.”
“Oh, what do you do?”
Drake hesitated for a moment, not too sure if he should reveal his trade under the circumstances. It had been known to have sudden effects on certain women. “I sell…marital aids.” He finally admitted.
Kitty’s eyes practically glowed. “Sex toys! Ooooh. You and I will have to have a long talk. Damn!”
That last expletive was fortunately directed to her cell phone which had begun to ring.
“Kitty here, what do you want?” She snapped.
There was a rather long monologue from the other end of the line which Drake could almost hear but not enough to understand what was being said.
“Okay, okay.” He could sense the disappointed groan in her voice. “I’ll get my scuba gear and I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
She shut down her cell phone and turned to him apologetically. “I’m afraid I have to go to work. Which hotel are you staying at? I’m very interested in your toys. Maybe we can meet up later for a little more…business?”
Drake felt everything swell bigger as she trailed a crimson nailed finger up his now beardless chin. Where she was patting him in consolation really didn’t help matters at all.
“Oh, definitely yes.” He nodded, noticing the hard bullet-shaped nubs of her nipples showing through her top. “I’m staying at the Hotel Whadawhopper, room 69a.”
“How appropriate!” She smiled, then licked her lips in a way that made his cock tingle. “I’m in room 69b. Connecting doors, hmm, we’ll have to connect later for a meeting of…minds.”
Drake nodded, unwilling to speak while it was hard… uh, he meant, hard to think clearly.
“Well, here we are.” She stopped the car before a fairly modern but a little rundown six storey hotel. “I’ll send you a message just as soon as I finish with this little bit of work.”
“Thanks!” Drake stumbled out of the car, clutching his carry-on in a way that would conceal his rather delicate condition. “I’ll be waiting.”
“Good!” She blew him the perfect kiss from a pair of cherry red lipstick covered lips that looked just, well, perfect. And with that she zoomed off leaving him with an erection capable of holding up the Eiffel tower and an imagination fired up with more images of coitus excessus than he’d even been able to conjure up in his teenage years.
When he entered the hotel lobby and cleared his room booking with the reception clerk, the first thing he noticed was two hot heavy breaths on the back of his neck.
Without even looking he turned casually toward the hotel elevator and began to walk quickly in that direction. Just before he reached it he turned a sharp right and ducked into the gentleman’s restroom and ran straight into one of the empty cubicles.
He dumped his carry-on on the unused commode. There, that should throw the droids off his tail.
“At last, we have you in private.”
Drake swallowed nervously as the female thing spoke, and the door lock clicked shut behind him.
He turned to face his two fiery opponents as they glared at him angrily.
“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing driving off with the leader of SPLAT when we’re trying to get you to safety?”
“You could have been killed, raped, or just plain raped and killed and we’d have known nothing about it.”
“Hang on a sec.” Drake took his favorite blue water pistol out of his carry-on as heavy ponderous steps entered the rest room. He squirted it over the two girls. One of them squealed in little yelps of protest while the other grunted heavily in surprise. The entering footsteps fled the restroom. “Hey, you didn’t explode.”
“Of course not stupid.”
“You mean you’re not one of those awful, mean, horrible, deadly female SPLAT droids?”
“I think Furball sent us an idiot,” Delectable confided to Delicious.
“More like an imbecile,” Delicious answered. “Shall we just dunk his head in the toilet and leave him?”
“Hang on, hang on. If you’re the CTR Angels…Are you the CTR Angels…?”
“Ferocious Fox,” Delectable said.
“Lightning Lynx,” Delicious added.
“Okay, if you’re the CTR Angels, who rescued me from you?”
“You don’t happen to mean Kitty Klaws, do you?” Lynx gave him the “Idiot” stare. “One of the top ten ranking SPLAT agents and key to the Devil’s Reef Death Machine.”
“Kitty Klaws is the bad guy, well gal. Yeah.”
Several dozen feet tip-toed back into the rest room.
“I’m screwed,” Drake moaned. “Well, I’m gonna be screwed. She’s coming back for business tonight. She said she wanted to buy some sex toys, but I think she wants a little more than that—“
“Whohoo! He’s cracked it.” Lynx did a little dance which bounced certain things around a lot and didn’t do much for making something else go soft.
“Maybe he’s not such an idiot after all.”
“He’s managed to make contact and infiltrate the dome within a day of arriving.”
“Not to mention he’s half way to disabling the female droid staff.”
“And also in a position to get into the dome and open the doors for us.”
“And in the perfect position to have sex with the boss lady and render her helpless until the BLAST squad can come for her her.”
“Huh?” Both agents turned to look at Drake as if they just realized he was there.
“You want me to do what? Sleep with the Devil?”
“Oh, no, nothing as serious as that.” Lynx grinned. “You just have to go down at Devil’s reef.”
Drake knew he didn’t understand when both of the girl’s began to laugh.
“He doesn’t know about going down.” Lynx gave him her cute look.
“Come on.” Fox unlocked the cubicle door and dragged him out, shocking half-a-dozen men standing by the urinals with their whangers out, all listening intently to their conversation. “Let’s go show you what we mean.”
Drake followed Fox and Lynx out of the restroom. If looks could kill their jealous stares would have eviscerated him.
Drake felt distinctly uncomfortable as he watched the young lady writhing in ecstasy on the bed. Not uncomfortable that he was watching it, but that he was watching it in the company of two very attractive women who weren’t in the least bit interested in him.
Trying to hide the effect the video had on him was proving to be extremely uncomfortable.
“Oh God, oh God, oh GOD!” The lady in question, well droid actually, removed the vibrator just at the critical moment. In spite of that she still appeared to enjoy the effects of a super-duper robot orgasm.
“She didn’t explode?” Drake who’d read a little of PIACT’s earlier reports on SPLAT remembered that detail very well.
“Kitty Klaws has been developing a female droid capable of limited orgasm.” Lynx explained. “It seems she wasn’t pleased with the effect Lethal Lion had when he went on his penetration mission. These droids are capable of taking pleasure right up to the point of orgasm. Provided they can remove the source of pleasure milliseconds before climax they fail to explode.”
“And since most of the droid guards in the undersea dome are female, and somehow protected against water, we need some way of deactivating them. We can work on the male guards because there are so few—we’ve tested all the local population.” Fox licked her lips. “And none of the males around here are droids. So we can handle the five or so down in the dome.”
“So, er, how can I help?”
Lynx pulled a wicked looking three prong device out of a suitcase. “With the use of Neptune’s Trident!”
Drake shuddered as she flicked a switch. The two outer prongs of the device began to vibrate while the middle one contorted in diverse convulsions.
“A double dong penetrating clit vibrator.” Fox elucidated. “Guaranteed by QQ to provide enough pleasure to explode even these protected droids. Included in the design are powerful electromagnets to help fasten them to the droids metal bodies. Plus you have to encourage them to use this.” She produced a tube of Sticky Lube. “The world’s first genuine feminine lubricant-come-superglue. One dab of this super slick liquid will ensure those Neptune’s Tridents aren’t going anywhere but in.”
“So you want me to…sell these to her for her droids?”
“That’s part of it.” Fox agreed.
“What’s the other part?” Drake dreaded to ask.
“You, ah, have to keep her entertained while the droids are exploding so she can’t prevent it happening.”
“Me?” Drake squeaked.
“It’ll be easy.” Fox patted his knee. “Just remember she like’s to have the O to get the big O.”
“That’s right, no f/f or m/m, though she’s partial to a little m/f/m.”
“Definitely O, yes, though a little C&A works too but avoid the BDSM she can get somewhat vicious with that.”
“You got it boy.” Lynx and Fox slapped him on the back and marched him to the door. “So go out there, do your job and make sure she gets her O’s.”
The door slammed behind him and Drake found himself alone in the corridor on the second floor of the Hotel Whadawhopper staring at the door which had just slammed shut behind him.
It was just past midnight several days later when the dreaded knock came on Drake’s hotel room door. He wasn’t too surprised to be greeted by two rather large men, droids of course. They said nothing, simply passed him a scuba diving set while maintaining their stony expressions.
“Hi.” He tried some pleasant conversation but they ignored him and lifted him by the elbows. It was a matter of moments for them to carry him down the hotel stairs to a small truck just outside the hotel parking lot.
Drake tried to console himself with the fact that somewhere in the shadows behind him there should be a Fox and Lynx watching everything from afar.
Though afar seemed way too far away to be safe to him.
As he was gently thrown into the back of the truck, one guard sitting on him to make sure he didn’t try to escape while the other drove to the beach, he wondered if this was a good thing or a bad thing. After all it had been three days ago now that he’d sent the job lot of Neptune’s Tridents to Kitty in the secret undersea base.
It had cost him triple to get USPS to go down eighty feet under the ocean since they generally didn’t deliver to an underwater zip code, but they’d eventually agreed. With an extra ten percent charge to make sure the address remained on their secret underwater base list.
The delivery had also included a bottle of Sticky Lube for each vibrator. So Drake couldn’t believe a whole dome of women—well, droid women—hadn’t even attempted to sample one of the devices yet. Surely at least one of them must have tried the lethal dildo. Which meant this was probably his call to death by uncertain means at the tender hands of a well bosomed lady called Kitty Klaws. And he still hadn’t worked out what the Oh? factor was.
Fox and Lynx had been particularly busy over the last few days retesting all the local men to ensure they weren’t part of the SPLAT droid population. And going by the squeals and screams that came from their rooms almost constantly through the days and nights, it hadn’t been an easy or forgiving task. Given the amount of sacrifice they’d made, Drake found it hard to complain about the minimal effort he’d been asked to make. Even if it did mean going down to the Devil’s Reef itself.
Down at the beach they forced him to strip, well it was a nudist beach after all, and made him put the scuba gear on. They then proceeded to pull on giant condoms with arms over their heads which they tied at the bottoms.
Suitably attired and protected from the water, they frogmarched, literally, Drake to the sea. Alas, even with the scuba diving gear he wasn’t able to get more than a hands width away from any of them.
Devil’s reef was a half mile east of Ocho Rios and they followed the gently sloping shore and sea bed until they reached the scattered reefs. Drake worked hard to avoid the staghorn coral and watched the snappers swim hastily away as he approached. It was hard to do when the only light came from a couple of flashlight that tweedle dee and tweedle dum carried with them. Every now and then the light flashed over the edge of the drop off, somewhere over there, a hundred and thirty feet down, was a sea bed Drake had no intention of investigating.
The droids took him along the edge of this drop of until…
“Well, f**k me!” Drake said.
Okay, okay so he thought it since he was eighty feet under water and it’s not too easy when you have an oxygen mouthpiece stuck in your gob. But as long as you get the impression of how surprised he was that’s good enough.
“Well, f**k me!” Drake thought with great surprise as a huge, whacking dome appeared before them. The crystalline cage lit up like a Christmas tree on Ecstasy.
As they swam nearer he could see the small figures of scantily clad women, some of them even more scantily clad than Fox. The female droids were working on some huge device in the middle of the dome which looked somewhat like a gigantic mallet with six million megawatt loudspeakers attached. Lying around the machine on the sandy floor were a hundred spongy bedrolls, the kind used in gym and exercise rooms.
There was also a very familiar figure waiting for him at what looked like an airlock of sorts, if a somewhat phallic looking airlock.
With nudges, pushes and a general grab and drag method of communication Dee and Dum forced him into the airlock’s foreskin which closed over him and began to suck the water out of the chamber beneath it.
Somehow he could imagine Kitty loving the design.
Kitty certainly seemed pleased to see him. Well, a particular part of him which couldn’t help reacting to the fact that she and all of the other female droids were now completely naked and making themselves comfortable on the gym mats.
“Come on! You’re just in time.”
She grabbed him by the aforementioned proud member and dragged him to a double sized mat close to the machine. All around them the female droids were picking up their Neptune’s Tridents and bottles of Sticky Lube.
“So, ah, looks like you gals are ready for a party.”
“Drake.” She looked him proudly in the eye. “You are about to witness the greatest moment ever for mankind.”
“Yes.” She pushed him backward until he lay on the mat. “And you have the honor of becoming Number Eleven.”
“Oh thanks!” Drake watched the Netpune’s Trident and Sticky Lube suspiciously. “Number Eleven what?”
“You are going to be the eleventh survivor of the entire human race!”
“You mean this machine will destroy everyone but eleven of us, and that is going to be the most magnificent moment in the history of mankind?” She straddled his legs, grabbed his erection like it was a joystick and poured the entire bottle of Sticky Lube over it. “I, uh, think…”
“You think it will be a fantastic moment, yes!” Kitty sank down on his cock, penetrating herself like this moment was the soul reason for her existence.
“This orgasmatetonictron, when activated by the screams of a hundred climaxing women will send a sonic blast to the Earth’s core which will render all but a few square kilometers inhabitable to life.”
“Oh, ah, ooh, oh!”
“Later sweety,” she smiled devilishly. “I’ll have some O later.” She began a rocking motion designed to make him blast off to the moon in no less than twenty seconds flat—a condition aided and abetted by the sounds of over a hundred female droids frantically working their way up to a fevered climax.
“But only eleven, could the human race survive?”
“We’ll have children.” Kitty bucked wildly hammering her boobs into Drake’s dazed face, stunning him further. “We’ll have hundreds of children!” Amidst her screams of lust and mad dreams Drake could vaguely hear the sounds of droids exploding around him. Well, at least something worked.
“Million’s,” Drake suggested.
“Billions!” Kitty agreed. “Oh God, here I come! Don’t pull out!”
“I, er, don’t think I can…”
Around him there was a wail of orgasmic cries mingled with explosions. The orgasmatetonictron vibrated alarmingly and for a few moments threatened to slam its doomsday mallet into the ocean floor. Then the moment passed and Drake knew that he’d saved the day.
“You are amazing, absolutely amazing,” Kitty panted her way to a fifth orgasm. “I could live with you forever.”
“I’m kind of stuck on you too.” Drake admitted, wondering how long it would take Number Ten to collapse from exhaustion.
“Well, looks like you’ve been busy.”
Drake woke up to find Fox and Lynx studying him. Kitty was still straddling him and still, unfortunately, superglued to his unable to deflate manhood. Thankfully after her tenth or eleventh orgasm the evil dobadder had fallen asleep, exhausted.
Around him, looking his way as frequently as they could without appearing rude were thirty or forty members of the BLAST team.
Dang, this whole thing couldn’t possibly become more public unless…
Drake closed his eyes and pretended not to exist. The Angels new owner, always one to rake in free publicity for a job well done, had brought in a half dozen YouTube publicity men. Now his half submerged never say die whanger was going to be a star on YouTube.
Move over Warrior Wolf, your day is done.
“So, er, are you going to come to Furball’s debriefing?” Fox asked pointedly as one of the camera boys zoomed in for a close up.
“Only if you wouldn’t mind getting me out of this.” Drake picked up the empty Sticky Lube bottle and tossed it at her.
“Oh?” Lynx blushed. Drake nodded, he must have used the Oh accidentally then. “Hadn’t thought that would happen.”
“So you’ve got some solvent, quick unsticker, stuff to wash it off with?” He asked hopefully.
“You see, it’s like this…”
“No.” They both admitted together. “But, Captain Blaine of the BLAST team here. He can take you both to QQ, I’m sure he can do something.”
“Hey, no! Wait a minute!”
Several of the hunky BLAST men picked them up. The movement was enough to wake a very sleepy Kitty. She peered at Fox and Lynx for a moment then grinned.
“Mine,” she said. “He’s simply amazing. Eleven times and he’s still ready for more…”
Drake held his breath until she fell back asleep.
“If you’re going to move us, for God’s sake give her something to knock her out. Please!”
“Maybe Captain Blaine could suggest something.” Lynx licked her lips as she looked at the six foot seven mountain of military muscle.
“Sorry Drake. Bad publicity. The Boss wants this to look good for public relations.”
“Noooooo!” Drake begged as they loaded him into the mini-submersible medical transport, two of the YouTube reporters nipping in quick so they could follow up on Drake’s treatment and recovery. “Pleeeease!”
Lynx and Fox watched as the last of the droids was cleared away and the orgasmatetonictron dismantled and taken to PIACT for analysis.
“Well, should we tell him about the hidden cameras?” Fox asked the question that was on both their minds.
Lynx chewed her lip for a moment thinking hard.
“Nah. Let Furball break the news.” Fox dropped her cell phone number in Blaine’s pocket. “After all, how often do you get to be the star in your own live broadcast porn movie on YouTube?”