The erection in his hands didn’t even flag. And then his conscious mind lost control and the soldier with his guts hanging out suddenly stood up and pushed the bleeding mess back inside with one hand while unbuttoning his pants with his other. They fell to the ground and Tony saw the golden triangle of the blonde goddess below the ruptured belly. The soldier rubbed his face and her ice-blue eyes and pink lips were suddenly speaking to him.
“Come to me Tony, cum in me.”
Tony rolled over and began to cry.
* * *
When 9 a.m. rolled around Tony was in his chair at the office, but Tony was not in. Black circles ringed his eyes and his right hand lay useless and twitching at his desk. His left hand was in his lap.
“Report coming along OK, Tony?” Bob asked from across the hall. He hadn’t seen Tony move since he’d stumbled in a half hour before.
“Uh-huh,” came the answer. But the man still didn’t budge.
When afternoon arrived and Tony didn’t seem any more aware, Bob sent him downstairs to the corporate doctor. There was a wet spot on the man’s pants which left Bob praying silently that his key employee was not sicker even than he looked.
* * *
“Well Tony, your blood pressure is low today,” Dr. Regsic chirped at him. “Let’s get up on the scale.” The meter flashed 156 lbs and she looked down at her chart.
“You’ve lost almost 20 pounds over the past couple months, Tony. Have you been on a diet?”
He shook his head no.
“Exercising?”
No.
She shook her head.
“Get up here on the table and unbutton your shirt.”
He did as she asked.
“How did you get those?” she frowned and bent towards him for a closer look. He hadn’t noticed this morning, but there were 10 red trawls down his chest, starting with a weak red glow at his shoulders and turning dark purple as they narrowed to converge in a single thick corridor at his bellybutton.
He was silent for a minute, and then offered: “My wife gets, um, excited.”
“Drop your pants, Tony.”
She didn’t sound like she’d take an argument, so he stood and undid his belt. His pants slid down immediately, revealing first, that he’d somehow forgotten underwear this morning, and second that the purple bruise led downwards from his belly to the tangle of hair beneath.
The doctor gasped at the sight. Tony thought she was impressed with his size—he was, of course, still erect. But her eyes did not look lustful, rather, they were disgusted. He focused on the object of her stare and saw that it too was red and purple—and swollen to twice its normal size.
“Look, Tony. I don’t want to tell you what to do in your bed, but if your wife is responsible for this—I’d consider divorce. I don’t even want to know how this happened, but you’d better rule out sex for the next week or two. I’m going to give you an antibiotic just in case you’ve got that infected.”
She walked over to the white cabinets across the room and pulled out a tube.
Instead of a dumpy fortyish woman in an overly long lab coat, Tony saw the bronze muscular buttocks of the goddess crossing the room, the dark lure of the crack between her legs led his hand to his lap. Her stride was lolling, casual. Her hips swayed suggestively, the ripples in her back and across her waist invited his tongue. She looked across her shoulder at him, flipping a mane of bleached hair over her shoulder. Her eyes touched his with electricity and she winked.
“Come to me, Tony.”
She turned around to show him all.
“Cum in me, Tony.”
* * *
“God, what is wrong with you?”
Dr. Regsic stood in front of him, her jaw hanging open.
“I’m not going to say anything about this Tony, but I am going to recommend a counselor.”
She reached over and pulled a paper towel from a roll on the wall.
“Here. Clean yourself up and go home. I’ll leave a prescription of antibiotic for that—you better hope it doesn’t scar—and some ointment as well. Come back tomorrow, I want to see how you’re doing.”
* * *
She was there again at 9, just like before.
“Who are you?” he asked again, as his jeans bunched around his ankles. Still she would not answer, but her hands were hot tonight, full of rhythmic lust. He felt a sticky wetness on his leg. With the rest of himself, he felt only her power. Her fingers blazed trails of ice and fire across him, but it was her mouth that centered her magic. As she pulled him inside her, the pleasure radiated back into his body, a feedback of ecstasy. He knew now the purple trails across his chest were her conduits of pleasure, he could feel every pulling sensation electrify those paths with heat. It could have been the intoxication of the moment, but a dull cobalt illumination seemed to leak from the weave she worked upon him, growing brighter and dimmer with the waxing and waning of her pressure upon him. And as she reached up to carve another channel on his chest, he saw why she insisted on darkness. Her left hand was maimed. The thumb and pinky fingers were whole, their long red-capped nails raked his flesh as any woman’s. But the middle three fingers lacked nails—in fact, they seemed to lack flesh as well. It looked as if she’d dipped her hand into a radiation soup. That would explain the hard coldness he had felt the past three nights as she first cupped and cajoled his loins. With cold bony fingers …
But her skill made up for any deformities. Again and again she brought him to orgasm, he groaned and begged her to suck him dry once more. And every time she did. Again the night ended with his losing consciousness in the throes of release. Again he awoke to find her gone, and spent the remaining hours tossing in his bed. And the next two nights were the same.
On Friday Bob put him on report and turned the Web project over to another department. Tony went back to Dr. Regsic.
She tried to keep the alarm from reaching her voice, while noting that his blood pressure had dipped dangerously low and he’d somehow lost another 10 pounds since Tuesday. But when he removed his clothes, her breath hissed with disgust. The purple bruising covering his torso looked like a gridmap. And it all led to a penis the size of a cucumber. Not an overly healthy looking one at that. She handed him the name of “a good doctor” at the hospital scribbled on her business card.
“Go there. Now,” was all she said. It was three in the afternoon, but he went.
Not to the hospital, though, to the hotel.
As he pulled into the parking lot—for the first time in daylight—he saw how truly decrepit the place was. Weeds sprouted everywhere through cracks in the asphalt. A “For Sale” sign was tacked on below the big Redroom Hotel placard above the main office door—which was boarded shut. Apparently the Gentech Government Laboratories, whose fence butted up to the back of the hotel property, weren’t bringing in enough business to support a hotel. Or maybe after the outcry a few years ago about GGL’s genetic testing program, they had steered business away. The hotel windows that weren’t covered in graffitied plywood were broken, ragged glass massaged gently by shredding curtains in the low breeze. Yes, this hotel had been closed for awhile, he supposed. So how had there been lights on in some rooms the other nights? And how long had She been there? This was probably a prostitution pit even when it was open for legitimate business, he guessed, wondering if his goddess had plied her strange trade here even then. Were there others like her in the other rooms? Could the cold blue lights he had seen night after night have been the flares of others undergoing the same consuming pleasures as himself, not the glow of cathode ray tubes? He found that he no longer cared, and strode unerringly towards 112. Closed or not, he knew of one room that had a vacancy.