At least on one level, and perhaps the most superficial level, The Sex-Ray is a funny, sexy story about a bean-pole of a man named Detweiller, a research scientist who invents a gadget called PABWEM to help him with his disastrous love life. The girl for whom Detweiller lusts in vain is another scientist, a cool brunette named Susan, who is in love with her test tubes at least until Detweiller turns on the current.
We will not spoil this fascinating story by revealing ahead of time precisely what the PABWEM does to a girl; a preface should be devoted to more serious issues, and perhaps it would be worthwhile to spend a moment thinking about what our author, Suzanne Mellows, is saying to us on a more profound level. Among the scenes of high hilarity and fun-filled sex which make this a very readable book, Miss Mellows is making a very serious point, one which none of us can afford to overlook.
The fictitious PABWEM is a device for controlling people's minds. Science fiction? Maybe, but every day the press reports the latest efforts of the scientific community to achieve precisely this goal. Sponsored by enormous amounts of government money, teams of scientists are working all across the nation on an assortment of different projects, and each breakthrough brings us closer to the day when our minds will no longer be our own.
We are not, of course, suggesting that the government is engaged in a conspiracy with the scientific community to rob us of our freedom. Far from it! Most of the humble and obscure men and women working in laboratories around the country are putting forth their best efforts in the interests of mankind for medical purposes, for the exploration of space, or for the enrichment of our lives. But the sum total of their research brings mind-control closer and closer to being scientific rather than storybook fiction.
Recent press accounts report a proposal to "cure" criminals by treating them with certain radioactive drugs which eliminate their criminal tendencies, one unfortunate drawback of the treatment being that the ex-criminal loses the power to make decisions of any kind. A private clinic in Washington, D.C. has successfully tested a method of straightening out deviate sexual behavior by means of a special shock treatment. Great for rapists, but who determines whose sexual behavior is deviate? And finally, experiments with monkeys have proven that it is perfectly possible to control the behavior of primates by implanting electrodes in their brains. Is Detweiller's PABWEM really science fiction after all?
Of course, the hero of this story is not out to control mankind, and his only motive for building his infernal machine is to get himself into the sack with the girl he loves, but even a well-intentioned man like Detweiller has his troubles controlling the power of his brain-child. Read this book, laugh at the funny parts and enjoy the bedroom scenes, and then imagine what would have happened had Detweiller been a power-mad politician instead of a decent chap with an unsatisfactory sex life!
Funny?
Careful, reader, the next mind to be invaded could be yours.
-The Publishers Sausalito, California October, 1973
CHAPTER ONE
The vision is golden, hazy, sweet, and everywhere her succulent body is a landscape of desire, a whole new erotic geography of sensual mountains to be scaled and tempting valleys to be explored. Detweiller reaches out, his bones aching with a lust as deep as hunger, his muscles moving slowly like a man under water, but she laughs a cruel, silvery laugh and dances lightly away in total unashamed nakedness as he stumbles after the flash of beauty he had almost captured, the warm flesh-tones, the soft moist, milk-white skin, the glistening redness of her lips ... his feet are impossibly heavy, somehow, and he cannot move...
"Susan, stand still!" he pleads with her desperately, maddened by the sight of her full, high-set young breasts calling to him, just inches away from the tips of his reaching, yearning fingers. If only he were not so slow, so strangely immobile ... but she sweeps away from him again as easily as dry leaves blowing in a hot autumn wind, the heaviness of her rich ripe breasts shaking as her voluptuous body eludes his clumsy grasp. She laughs and the sound is like a mountain stream splashing icily through crystals of quartz or a kitten scampering mindlessly over the high keys of a harpsichord in an empty music hall. Detweiller is confused. After rejecting him for so long, she has now stripped away her white laboratory coat and bared the magnificence of her body to him, and yet he cannot quite ... it is all there, everything he has ever dreamed he would someday see, the treasure of her loins, the warm tantalizing triangle of her rich brown pussy hair concealing the dark mysteries of her womanhood, and her smooth full hips swaying beyond the reach of his outstretched hands...
"Det, take me!" she breathes at him passionately, her voice low and lusty as she stretches wide her arms. "What are you waiting for?"
She stops running from him now, the torment finished, and walks temptingly in his direction, her smoothly rounded hips swaying to unheard music as she moves invitingly toward him through a golden mist, her hands now massaging her breasts in hypnotic circles, and the tiny brown buds of her nipples stiffening with rampant desire. "Take me, Timothy," she murmurs as she melts eagerly into his arms. "Fuck me until I scream."
Detweiller's penis is long and hard, and he crushes her close to his throbbing body, his restless hands sweeping gratefully over the softness of her skin ... but something is wrong! Her skin has changed, still soft, but now dry and cloth-like, and her flesh is dead and lifeless as he caresses ... there is a dull aching pain in the back of his head, and he tries to focus on Susan's quick brown eyes knowing that she cannot disappear while he looks at her only to find that she is already gone, and there is nothing left but rumpled whiteness in his field of vision and a strident piercing ringing in his ears ... the hurt in his skull grows worse ... but the noise goes away as he flails blindly and knocks the alarm-clock to the floor.
It crashes, still buzzing convulsively in its death throes and then goes silent, its last loyal gesture upon destruction having been to register the face that it was now seven o'clock on a Monday morning of exceptional coldness and grayness. Timothy Detweiller experiences three acute perceptions of reality as consciousness overtakes him. One: it was all a dream a beautiful, frustrating erotic dream and had the miserable alarm clock suffered his subconscious lusts another minute, it could at least have been a wet dream. Two: he had a hangover of fearful, epic proportions, the kind of glorious hangover which should be reserved for royalty and Nobel prizewinners. And third: the shattered piece of Swiss machinery scattered across the floor was the fifth alarm clock he had executed so far this year.
Detweiller had developed a standard procedure for getting up with a hangover at seven o'clock on Monday mornings like this, and he rolled out of bed on the opposite side to avoid cutting himself on the shards of broken glass from the atomized alarm clock and fell full length on the cold marble floor. This represented a compromise between standing up which was impossible and staying in bed-which would get him in trouble with Professor Martin. There was something restful about the coldness of the floor, and he pressed his throbbing forehead against its marble coolness and tried to imagine the lustless pleasures of being dead and buried.
"Susan," he moaned to the unresponsive floor. "Why?"
But life had to go on. Crawling like an infantryman under withering enemy fire, Detweiller slithered into the bathroom and activated his clock radio which in turn switched on his coffee maker. With a Herculean effort, he raised himself to his hands and knees and dumped his anguished body into a tubful of tepid water, carefully prepared the night before. The radio played the last thirty-seven bars of some country-and-western music which Detweiller loathed, and then lapsed into a discussion of falling hog prices on the international market, signifying that it was now five minutes after seven, and he was on schedule.
He found the hog situation very restful for some reason and floating semi-submerged noted with regret the fact that his penis was still hard and twitching and with disinterest the fact that he had once again failed to remove his pajamas before immersion. The coffee maker gurgled and gargled, filling the bathroom with the blessed odor of caffeine. Without leaving the tub, Detweiller poured himself a cup of inky liquid, laced it liberally with brandy and lit a filter-tipped cigarette. The hot market situation report ended, and the announcer began detailing the early morning temperatures in the major cities of the Western hemisphere in alphabetical order.
Functioning on a purely animal level but by no means conscious in the psychological sense of the word, Detweiller drew strength from the news that it was ninety-seven in Rio and rose up out of the water like Neptune, letting the water slosh onto the bathroom floor. Brute animal instinct told him not to use his electric razor until he was dry, so he sat down on the edge of the toilet, allowing the moisture to evaporate from his skin at its own leisurely pace. The combined efforts of the coffee and the brandy in his system then permitted him to plug the razor in and begin moving it across his face. His stomach was sour, his hands trembled and both his frontal lobes were throbbing in agony, but as he finished shaving, the thought stumbled through his head that he was probably going to make it again today. Of course, he had not yet opened his eyes, but he normally recovered at least fifty percent of his vision before trying to start his car. And the first thing he would see upon entering his laboratory was the mind-bending but well-clothed figure of his co-worker, Doctor Susan Klemper, all the sensual glories of a body he had seen only in his dreams hidden beneath an all-encompassing laboratory frock.
Detweiller put his face in his hands and found that he was too weak to cry. It was the same old story all over again. On Friday night as they prepared to leave the laboratory, he had approached his desirable colleague, accidentally knocking over a tray of test-tubes on her desk. While he mopped up the mess, his face burning with embarrassment, he had blurted out that he had theater tickets for Saturday night, only to learn that Doctor Susan Klemper intended to visit her mother on Saturday night. He had inquired about the possibility of Sunday night, and she had replied, "Mmmmmnnehh," or possibly, "Mmmmmmhaahh," and then departed. Sunday night, Detweiller had set himself to call her up, drinking whiskey while he worked up his courage. By nine-fifteen he had found the necessary courage, but the bottle of whiskey was mostly gone, and his fingers were no longer sufficiently agile to deal with the mechanical complexities of the telephone. After two unintended long distance calls to Salt Lake City, he had given up in despair and finished the bottle.
By the time Timothy Detweiller parked his dilapidated old car in his reserved spot next to the garbage cans behind the Hudson Valley Research Institute, his mind was functioning fully, and his headache had declined from cataclysmic to merely agonizing. His face was ashen and his hand unsteady, but he knew he was going to make it through the day, particularly if he was not obliged to have an unsettling contact with either Susan or Professor Martin. Squinting in the pale light of morning, he put his head down and walked towards his laboratory. It was almost nine o'clock, and his monkeys would be waiting.
* * *
Professor Thomas A. Martin, Chairman of the Radiobiologic Division of the Hudson Valley Research Institute, gazed at his perfect profile in the mirror attached to the door of his elegantly carpeted office and adjusted the positioning of one errant lock of his distinguished gray hair. It was going to be a good day, he had already decided. For starters, he would kick Detweiller's ass for wasting so much time on this ridiculous experiment he was currently engaged in. Then he would have a chat with Doctor Susan Klemper and see if she could not be softened up a little, and then about nine-fifteen, his work done for the day, he would call in his extremely pliable secretary Amy and give her some dictation. His own special brand of dictation...
"You wanted to see me, professor?"
Martin jumped slightly, irritated at having been caught preening himself in the mirror, and turned to gaze upon the cold but lovely features of his research assistant, Susan Klemper.
My God, what a beauty, he thought lustfully as he smiled and adjusted his tie. If only she had Detweiller's brains and Amy 's morals! And I bet she only knows about fucking from books on biology!
Doctor Klemper did not return her supervisor's smile, knowing that Professor Martin would need only the tiniest amount of encouragement to behave in a lewd and undignified fashion. Susan was twenty-six, unmarried, brown-haired and only dimly aware that she held a fatal attraction for men, since she was completely devoted to her research. Martin, on the other hand, was forty-six, recently divorced from his third wife and constantly aware that the young female scientist was the most voluptuous creature he had ever laid eyes on. In fact, it was a continual source of regret that the only thing he had ever laid on Susan Klemper was his eyes, but he was plotting the day when she would find herself writhing nakedly and lustfully on the couch he kept in his office for just this kind of eventuality. It was pleasant banging his secretary Amy on a twice-a-day basis, but Martin liked the finest that life had to offer, and Susan Klemper was about tops as far as he was concerned.
"Ah yes," he said carefully, putting his arm around the girl's shoulders in what was intended to seem a fatherly gesture of innocent affection. "I wondered how you were coming with your glowworms?"
Susan extracted herself from her colleague's bear-like embrace as soon as she felt his fingers inching indecently toward the sumptuous swell of her right breast but without indignation, since she had long since accepted as a mystery of nature the fact that every man she met would try sooner or later to caress her mature young breasts or put his hand up between her slender thighs. Except for poor gangling Detweiller, of course, who always looked like he was about to put his hand somewhere it did not belong but somehow never seemed to work up the courage. However, Susan was a scientist, an intellectual, and had no time for men and their foolish groping and fumbling with what she thought of as her secondary sex characteristics. As a trained biologist, she understood clearly that masculine lust was necessary for the survival of the species, but surely, sex had no place in a serious place like a research institute!
"Professor, I would be making more progress if it weren't for Det's experiments," she complained crisply, putting the desk between her and the scientist. "It was bad enough when he filled the place with hamsters and then left the cages open at night so they could get loose and eat my glowworms, but these monkeys are too much! They screech all day, and this morning I found that one of them had ... uh ... defecated on my desk!"
"I'll speak to him about it," promised Martin severely, circling around the desk and putting his arm around her shoulders for the second time.
"And he has the hallway jammed with some kind of electronic junk which makes the laboratory very unsightly, very unsightly indeed."
"I'll speak to him about it the very first thing this morning."
"Thank you, professor."
"Not at all, my dear girl. We should let nothing interfere with the progress of science, should we? And how are those dear little glowworms doing?"
"Well, the ones which weren't eaten by the hamsters or crushed by the monkeys are doing very nicely, thank you. Except that I still haven't been able to isolate the substance which makes them glow."
"Well, dear, have patience and perhaps you could ask Det to take a few minutes away from his monkeys to help. I'm sure he'll come up with something."
"I won't require any assistance from Doctor Detweiller, professor, and you seem to have your hand on my left mammary gland," Susan pointed out acidly, noting that Martin's fingers had crept covertly down to rest on the smoothly enticing slope of her breast.
"Oh! Yes, of course, I was merely taking your heartbeat, my dear girl. You know how concerned I am about your health."
"Of course, professor. You will speak to Det about his wretched monkeys?"
"Send him to me, Susan, and your glowworms will never be disturbed again!"
Martin watched her depart, his fingers still tingling hotly from the recollection of how soft and yielding her breast had felt. His penis was twitching restlessly in his pants, and for a moment, he almost succumbed to the temptation to call Amy in and begin the day's proceedings, but he restrained himself. First he had to deal with Detweiller, always a painful business, and he reminded himself to handle the situation with tact. Martin was an arrogant man, and overbearing, but he was smart enough to know that his division was surviving on the basis of Detweiller's incredible talent for discovering things which the Hudson Valley marketing team could then turn into patents, sales and profits for the company. Susan was beautiful and competent to do minor jobs, and he himself was usually clever enough to see the commercial value of what his gangling awkward senior assistant came up with, but he reminded himself seriously that they were all living on Detweiller's genius.
And as long as we can keep the big jerk from realizing it, we're in business!
Ducking his head to fit his six-foot four-inch frame into a doorway built for normal sized people, Detweiller presented himself before the desk of his superior, who gazed at his elongated subordinate with poorly concealed distaste. Detweiller was reasonably good-looking and well-muscled, but his incredible thinness and height gave him the appearance of an embarrassed giraffe in a laboratory coat.
"Listen, Det, what the hell's happening with those animal experiments you've been running? The place smells like a zoo, and I keep falling over electroencephalographs in the corridor. Plus, one of your monkeys took a shit on Susan's desk, and she's fit to be tied."
Detweiller gulped like a schoolboy about to deliver a prepared speech and thrust his hands into his pockets to reduce the possibility that he would inadvertently knock anything over while he talked.
"Uh ... well, the experiment is going so-so. I sent you a report on the hamsters..."
"Yes, of course," snapped Martin, realizing guiltily that he had not read Detweiller's report which was buried under a stack of Playboy magazines in the corner of his office. "But I wanted to hear about it from you directly."
"Well ... as you know ... all organisms emit radio waves, and these faint signals vary in modulation according to the behavior or mental state of the animal at the time. I was able to measure three basic beams from my hamsters, hunger, sexual drive and aggression..."
"So what?"
"Uh, I then amplified the beam and broadcasted them back into the animal's brain which about thirty percent of the time produced hunger or a visible sex excitement or aggressive behavior, depending upon the nature of the beam."
"Det, my boy, this is all very interesting, but we don't do pure science here; we invent things our marketing division can sell. What possible commercial advantage can we get out of making a hamster hungry or horny?"
Detweiller shuffled his feet nervously and gulped again before responding.
"Well ... you see that if we can influence the behavior of animals electronically, we could do a lot of things, maybe for farmers. For example, if you had a bull which would zap him with bull-lust beams, and he would then copulate with the nearest cow and fertilize her..."
"Oh, for Christ's sake! Haven't you ever heard of artificial insemination? Nobody worries about whether a bull feels like screwing anymore. It's all done with a test tube!"
"Oh." In fact, Detweiller had not yet decided what his discovery was likely to be good for, if anything. There were a few other possible applications for the concept, but they were a trifle too outlandish for Professor Martin's present mood.
"Look, Det, try and finish it up, will you? I want you to help Susan with her glowworms. Now there's something with real promise."
"Yes, sir," the tall scientist muttered, not particularly delighted with the prospects of becoming Susan's assistant glowworm keeper.
"And get that junk out of the hall!"
"Yes, sir."
"And clean up the mess on Susan's desk."
"Yes, sir."
"And then send Amy in. I've got some dictation."
Detweiller swallowed and left, realizing that he had once again behaved with all the manly forcefulness of one of his own hamsters but grateful at least that Professor Martin had not simply cancelled the experiment altogether. He found Amy sitting in her usual place in the coffee bar, chatting with some maintenance men and told her that Martin had some dictation. Amy was a saucy little redhead with high pointy breasts which shifted freely and mysteriously beneath her sweater whenever she moved, and she grinned at him mockingly as he spoke, since Professor Martin never produced any papers or reports. Detweiller wondered precisely what it was that he dictated to Amy all day long, and he felt a flash of renewed lust as he watched the sleek-bodied secretary uncross her long smooth legs and stroll off towards the office, her pert little behind waving sensually at Detweiller and the maintenance men.
Feeling discouraged, Detweiller drank a cup of coffee with the clean-up crew, who complained about the mess his monkeys were making, and he was walking slowly back to his office when it suddenly occurred to him that, by beaming hunger-modulated waves at turkeys before Thanksgiving, it might be possible to make them gain extra weight and thus earn more money for the farmer. It was worth a try, and he decided to detour past Professor Martin's office and explore the possibility of buying fifteen or twenty young turkeys for testing purposes.
Martin's door was closed, but not completely, and Detweiller paused respectfully outside, wishing to be sure that his boss was alone before he interrupted him. A long low moan escaped suddenly from the inside of the office, and-puzzled the research scientist peered through the crack. Instantly he saw what was going on, and while he knew it was wrong of him to stand and watch this lewd scene, something glued him to the spot.
The groan had come from Amy who was sprawled on Martin's lap while the professor carefully removed her clothing. Her sweater buttoned down the front, and Detweiller's eyes glowed like two of Susan's worms as he watched the man's agile fingers lustfully unfasten the final button and pull the frail wool garment down over the girl's sensuous young shoulders, baring her high, widely spaced breasts. She had obviously not been wearing a brassiere, and
Detweiller felt his long-neglected cock begin to twitch restlessly in his pants as Professor Martin played with Amy's tiny brown nipples, tweaking and twisting each little golden bud until it stiffened with unchecked desire.
Why not me? Detweiller asked himself miserably as he watched the girl's miniskirt slide temptingly to the floor, leaving her clad only in a brief transparent pair of bikini-style panties. Why does everyone else in the world make out with the ladies except me? Even my hamsters get laid regularly!
It was true. Every time Detweiller felt impelled to try to take a girl to bed, he inevitably became so nervous that he somehow ruined everything. And with Susan, the woman he wanted between the sheets more than anyone else in the world, he became a stumbling, bumbling mass of visibly vibrating flesh every time she came into view. Why was Martin, who was so short on scientific talent, so long on know-how when it came to women? Entranced, Detweiller watched his supervisor gracefully sweep away the girl's flimsy white panties with a deft and powerful motion of his arm. Amy's pubic triangle was reddish-brown, and her pussy hair was already moist and tangled with excitement as she slid down off her boss's lap to her knees in front of him.
My God! What is she doing? Detweiller asked himself in dismay as the red-haired secretary crouched nakedly between Martin's outstretched legs in slave-like submission, a lascivious smile playing on her sensuous lips as her hands cupped the slowly rising mass at the professor's crotch. Detweiller had spent most of his life studying biology, but he was remarkably unsophisticated as far as sexual matters were concerned, despite the Master's thesis he had once written on the mating habits of the Eastern diamondback rattlesnake, or Crotalus atrox, as it is known to specialists.
He watched Amy slowly draw down the man's zipper and after a moment's fumbling, locate Martin's short fat penis, jerking visibly as it swelled to its full dimensions. Detweiller knew in his heart that it was indecent to observe the sexual behavior of humans, but he successfully convinced himself that he owed it to his further education as a biologist to watch anything which was going to happen, particularly since it was now obvious that Amy was going to do something to Professor Martin which would not have occurred to a female rattlesnake. The man sank even lower in his chair, his thickly burgeoning member jutting up from the blackness of his pubic hair like a fence post, and Amy bent over him, her hands cupping his sperm-filled testicles through the open "vee" of his trousers.
"Come on, baby; suck it good," the professor muttered obscenely, his eyes glazed with lust as he watched the girl's full red lips hovering over his pulsating rod.
"Any way you like it, honey," grinned the girl, her mouth glistening as she licked her lips in lustful anticipation. Detweiller swallowed uncomfortably as Amy bent forward, her tongue spearing out wickedly to catch a jewel-like drop of semen which was trembling at the tip of Martin's thick scarlet glans. The professor groaned with pure animal happiness as she nuzzled and licked his crazily twitching cock, and Detweiller felt his head swimming with envy.
"Mmmmmm," came a murmur from deep in Amy's throat as she sucked him eagerly up into the unnatural sanctuary of her mouth, her cheeks billowing out suggestively. Detweiller held his breath, almost certain from the biological point of view that Martin could go no deeper than he already was without choking his secretary to death. But the girl's head dropped even lower over the professor's naked loins and Martin muttered his absolute contentment as the flexible shaft of his penis glided across her willing tongue into the back of her throat.
Amy's face was now buried in the unruly mass of Martin's pubic hair, and Detweiller sighed unhappily to himself, watching her soft young breasts jiggling sensuously back and forth as she gave her employer the blow job of his life. For a long time, she sucked him slowly and methodically, bobbing her head up and down and sometimes taking his fat blood-hardened cock in her hands while she licked it voraciously like a child with an ice cream cone. Then, lingeringly, the redheaded secretary began to suck him deeper and deeper into her throat, and Martin's cock seemed to swell up like a balloon, his hands winding into her hair and his lips flexing diabolically on the chair seat. Every movement was so natural that Detweiller realized with despair that the two of them probably did this every day while he was slaving away in his laboratory trying to convince hamsters to screw under the influence of radio beams.
Professor Martin was really going wild now, ramming his thick bludgeoning cock brutally into Amy's open mouth as if her cruelly stretched lips were merely the entrance-way to another cunt into which he could spew his churning seed. Detweiller was sure their employer was going to strangle her with this merciless savagery, but impossible as it seemed, the girl gave every indication of enjoying herself completely. Her lithe young body had come alive now, and her hips were gyrating lasciviously back and forth as some of Martin's bone-crushing lust communicated itself to her. Detweiller found the whole scene increasingly painful, particularly since the long hard shaft of his own lustfully tingling cock seemed to be making a determined effort to climb out of his pants, and this was going to be embarrassing if he encountered anyone in the hallway. But he was stubbornly resolved to see this lewd spectacle to the end.
And the end was not long in coming.
"Mmmmmm ... MMMMMHHHHH!! ! " Amy groaned suddenly, her voice distorted by the presence of the man's murderously long cock in her throat, and Detweiller observed that Martin's compact athletic body seemed to have been overcome by a muscular spasm. His knees shot up into the air, and he gasped in sheer delight as Amy abruptly began gulping with frantic abandon, her cheeks filling with warm liquid sperm.
Detweiller wiped the perspiration off his brow and watched as she greedily swallowed his cum, a few trickles of stringy white semen seeping obscenely from the corners of her mouth. Surprisingly, the secretary made no attempt to pull away from her employer now that he had deposited his hot searing semen in the back of her throat but instead continued to suck softly on his slowly deflating tool, licking and nuzzling him like a mother cat attending to her kittens, caressing him with her mouth until his cock was hard and firm again.
Exhaling gently,Detweiller backed away from the door, realizing that his headache had just returned. His penis was now massively erected, and his testicles were hurting so that he could not bear to watch another minute of this lewd amoral scene.
"Why?" he asked himself scornfully as he headed down to his own office to feed his hungry monkeys. "Why everybody else and not me?"
CHAPTER TWO
The monkey looked contemptuously at Detweiller, chortled something insulting and continued to gnaw on a banana, occasionally breaking off little pieces and throwing them with offhanded generosity to the female monkey who shared his cage.
With his fifth cup of coffee that morning behind him now and the door to his laboratory firmly closed, Detweiller concentrated on forgetting his own personal problems and tried to think about nothing but the project. For one solid week he had allowed ten pairs of chimpanzees to go about their daily lives with electrodes taped to their little skulls while he sat there patiently hour after hour hunched over his electroencephalograph recording the various brain-wave emissions from their ape minds on electronic tape. A monkey's mentality, obviously, was much more complicated than the simple hamster's, and Detweiller felt a crushing sense of impending failure hovering over him. Even his docile hamsters had ignored him almost all of the time when he suddenly beamed hunger-modulations back into their skulls, amplified a thousand times, or decided to make love when they were being programmed to fight. Would monkeys be more or less susceptible to his electronic suggestions?
A monkey was a much higher order of being, far more complex and more intelligent, more independent and less disciplined. If the experiment failed here, Detweiller knew he had no choice but to pack up his gear and move over to Susan's glowworm culture. Professor Martin had already gotten tired of the whole business, and if something exciting did not happen soon, he was going to start becoming very insistent about terminating the tests.
The monkey threw the banana peel at Detweiller, stretched and then deliberately urinated out through the bars of the cage in his keeper's direction, sending a stream of pungent yellow liquid in a high precise arc to splash on the floor at the foot of the scientist's desk.
"Okay, you son-of-a-bitch," Detweiller told the monkey. "Prepare to have your mind invaded!" The machinery was all ready and Detweiller fastened the tape containing a selection of monkey emotions to what was essentially a powerful but highly directional transmitting device. He set the power for minimum and swung the parabolic antenna around so that it beamed directly into the cage containing the insolent monkey. After a moment's hesitation, he set the tape for "violently aggressive behavior" and then stepped back to watch. The monkey scratched thoughtfully under his arm and looked at his mate as the powerful electronic beams swept soundlessly through the air, bombarding both their helpless brains with electronic hostility impulses. The female screeched fiercely at her male companion and hunkered down off the bar on which she had been perched, her lips drawn back over her sharp teeth.
With twin movements too fast for the eye to follow, the two animals hurled their small muscular furry bodies at one another, chattering with torrents of monkey rage as their sharp teeth and fingernails slashed through the air. Moving just in time to save one or both of his experimental animals from serious injury or death, Detweiller lunged, cutting the current dead and interrupting the hostility beam less than thirty seconds after it had begun. The two monkeys stumbled backwards, their acute little minds reeling under the impact of several thousand kilocycles of radio waves, and looked at each other in numbed amazement, unable to comprehend what had started the fight or why it had so abruptly ended.
"Pee on my desk, will you!" snarled Detweiller gleefully as he fumbled with the controls. "Try this on for size!" with a deft flick of his wrist, he switched the tape to position number four, "violent defecatory urge," and watched with delight as both monkeys grunted, retreated to separate corners of the cage and excreted profusely, filling the laboratory with the unpleasant odor of monkey shit.
"And now that you've emptied your bowels, my friends," Detweiller whispered to his confused pets, "you get your reward!"
Turning the dial forward, he located the section of the tape which contained the proper radio wave modulations for "intense sexual desire," turned the power up to full and let them have it.
The female monkey had been fussing over a slight cut on her forearm, but she nearly fell over when the electronic waves plowed soundlessly into her. Chirping lustfully, she swung her furry body around as the male bounded towards her from the other side of the cage, raising her rump in what must have been, at least to another monkey, an indecent invitation. The male's oversized penis shot up like a mechanical toy, the scarlet organ protruding obscenely from the foreskin, and he leapt gleefully on the back of his mate without so much as an instant of monkey foreplay.
Detweiller watched, happy that his experiment seemed to be a success, but distressed by the notion that everybody else in his immediate vicinity seemed to get sex drives satisfied at his expense. While Detweiller did all the work in the division, Professor Martin screwed Amy, and while Detweiller cleaned up monkey shit, the monkeys got their rocks off with one another. And what did Detweiller get out of it?
Nothing.
Glumly, the scientist completed a systematic series of tests which occupied the rest of the morning. All of the other monkey pairs reacted approximately in the same fashion, indicating that at least this species of African ape was remarkably susceptible to electronic suggestion. Giving way to the scientist's chronic urge to experiment, he varied the theme by placing two masculine monkeys in the same cage and then beaming them "intense sexual desire." Both animals immediately grew enormous erections and then sat there motionlessly looking at each other with expressions of great perplexity. Relieved that at least he had not been giving food and shelter to any queer monkeys, Detweiller then revolved the intensity dial slowly, distorting the electronic emissions which were being beamed into the clever little animals. Slowly they reacted to the impetus of these slightly out-of-tune waves, moving cautiously towards one another. Then Detweiller stepped up the power, and the two male apes merged into a clumsy embrace, each groping inexpertly for the other's naked genitals.
The young scientist switched off the machine and sat down heavily in his chair, satisfied with the results of his morning's work but still wondering about the practical applications of this invention. He could control behavior in apes and even provoke perverted behavior by distorting the beams. He could make a monkey mad, happy, sexy or queer merely by twisting a dial. And Professor Martin's inevitable question was already ringing in his ears. So what?
Was it good for anything?
Would it make any money for the Hudson Valley Research Institute?
Or, on a more personal level, would it get Timothy Detweiller into bed with Susan Klemper?
No.
Or even, hell no!
Detweiller opened a window to alleviate the smell of sexually excited monkeys, then stepped inadvertently in the pool of yellow monkey urine on the floor as he paced the length and breadth of his laboratory, putting all the scientific talent and genius at his disposal into a detailed consideration of his most pressing personal problem. Inventing new and more exciting techniques and gadgets was obviously getting him nowhere. Professor Martin inevitably stole all the credit, and while Susan was mildly impressed with his cleverness, her feelings towards him remained very much at the intellectual level.
"Goddamn," he muttered miserably to himself. "You've invented a marvelous and useless machine for making monkeys want to screw. Why the hell didn't you concentrate on something to make girls feel the same way? If Susan were only a monkey, I could..."
He stopped, suddenly struck by a notion so strong and so obviously criminal that it staggered him. Radio beams had little effect on hamsters who had small and simple brains but overwhelming effects on monkeys with fairly complex brains ... was it possible that the same technique could be used with humans? And how would one go about collecting the necessary tapes?
The telephone rang.
Detweiller picked it up, still dazed by the enormity of what he was thinking.
"Det?" barked Professor Martin. "I've just read your hamster report, and maybe we do have something interesting here. How did you make out with the monkeys?"
Detweiller concentrated hard, beads of sweat standing out on his forehead as he wrestled with his conscience. He hesitated and then spoke the fatal words, his conscience having fought gamely and lost.
"Noooooooh ... nothing, I'm afraid, boss ... monkeys didn't react at all ... another blind alley, I guess..."
* * *
Susan Klemper looked up from her breeding tray of glowworms as Timothy Detweiller walked out of his laboratory, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the door frame.
"Uh ... monkeys'll be gone in the morning," he told her with no apparent remorse. "I'll be helping you with the glowworms."
The female scientist nodded, perplexed at her colleague's abrupt change of mood, but grateful that his brilliance would now be added to her diligence for an all-out assault on the privacy of glowworms.
II he only weren't so wishy-washy and so totally lacking in self-confidence, the young brunette researcher told herself as she bent back to the task of catching a glowworm in the tail with a hypodermic needle he could be a first-class scientist!
* * *
At two-fifteen that afternoon an excessively tall, slender man walked out of the train station carrying a large bulky suitcase as if he had just arrived in the big city and was a trifle staggered by the noise and excitement. He walked to the taxi stand, looking nervous, and folded his long lanky frame into the back of the nearest cab.
"Where to, Bub?" inquired the driver politely, assuming that he was in the presence of a country yokel.
"Uh ... take me ... that is ... I want to ... uh..." the man stammered, too jittery to form a coherent sentence.
"Hey, calm down, fella," the driver reassured him. "Jes' tell me what's on your mind."
"I ... uh ... want to get a little action," the young man finally blurted out.
"You mean a card game?"
"Ah ... not exactly, in fact, ... not even inexactly. I want a ... a girl ... if you know what I mean."
"Yeah, I know what you mean, kid. They don't call this place Fun City fer nothin', ya know. But you look a tad on the nervous side, if ya don't mind me saying so. Sure you don't want a good poker game first just to settle yer nerves?"
The young man was quite sure that he did not require a mid-afternoon poker game, and the driver obediently spun him off to a pleasantly decorated establishment on the East Side where the pleasures of the flesh were available at all hours. The country yokel insisted upon bringing his suitcase into the brothel with him, but he tipped the driver handsomely and sent him on his way.
"What's your preference, sonny?" said the madam sympathetically as she made the gawky youth comfortable in her spacious living room and handed him a crisp cold whiskey to settle his obviously shattered nerves. "We got 'em tall and short, white and black, skinny and plump, and there ain't a customer in the house 'cepting you."
Suddenly the young client seemed to become more sure of himself and, consulting a notebook which he drew from his suit coat pocket, he stated his desires in clear scientific terms.
"I want a young woman of about twenty-five in good health who enjoys her work, someone who genuinely-likes ... uh ... having sexual intercourse ... and I will need her services for the remainder of the afternoon."
"You better have some dough, baby. What's the chick hafta do to you?"
"She doesn't have to do anything to me. I only want her to ... uh ... make love to her boy friend, or anybody she feels like making love to."
"Why not you?" said the madam incredulously.
"I will be busy," the young man explained brightly. "I have to operate the controls."
"What controls?"
"The controls of my electroencephalograph."
"The controls on your ... I'd better call Rosa, honey, this looks like a specialty case."
* * *
After the consumption of another glass of scotch, Detweiller began to feel much more confident about the entire project and he had set up his apparatus around the bed with great care by the time the famous Rosa came in. By a stroke of good fortune, Rosa turned out to be approximately the same size and weight as Susan Klemper, with heavy, lust-provoking breasts swaying sensuously beneath the translucent peignoir she wore to conceal her nakedness. A vivid bottle redhead, she gazed quizzically at the nervous scientist, seeming remotely puzzled by the whole idea.
Her boyfriend and part-time pimp, Tony, looked quite at ease, however, puffing casually on a cigarette as Detweiller outlined what he had in mind.
"The way I get it, Doc, is that you get your kicks by watching other folks get theirs, right?" he analyzed the situation as Detweiller fastened an electrode to his forehead with a piece of tape.
"Uh ... er ... not exactly, Tony. I want to measure your brain waves. And it is important that you feel really excited, since if you just do it mechanically, nothing will register on the electroencephalograph. Uh ... do you feel like ... uh ... fucking?"
"Doc, I always feel like fucking!" declared Tony firmly as he slipped out of his pants, revealing a long thick penis already stiffened with sensual excitement. "How 'bout you, honey?"
"I dunno," his girlfriend muttered dubiously. "Are you going to help, Doc?"
"Help?" questioned Detweiller. "I'll help by attending to the controls on my machine here ... uh ... how else could I help?"
"Well, you know what they say about two being company but three being really fun," the girl quoted, standing up to remove her peignoir, baring the most exciting body Detweiller had seen since his last wet dream about his reluctant co-worker.
"You mean..."
"Yeah, it'd be kinda fun and Tony never minds a little free-for-all. It's hard to get all fired up with you standing there in that white coat."
"Well, would it help if I took off my coat?" Detweiller groaned internally. After a lifetime of girls who did not want to sleep with him, he was finally confronted with one who did, when all he wanted out of her at the moment was to be perfectly faithful to her one true lover.
"Look, I don't think I can cum unless you get naked with me and Tony," she added contritely. "I'm sorry, Doc, but we girls got our delicate feelings too."
"Whatsamatter, Doc, ain't my Rosa good enough for you?" asked Tony resentfully as he removed his socks and hung them neatly over the back of a nearby chair. "Why, she's the best-looking hooker in all of New York City. Look at them tits!"
"Ah ... they're very nice," affirmed Detweiller awkwardly, his eyes widening with desire as he surveyed the redhead's voluptuously full breasts. "Really, uh ... the nicest I've ever seen."
"And they're natural, too," added Tony with lewd enthusiasm as he cupped one of Rosa's enticingly rounded breasts in his hand, caressing it until the dark brown circle of her nipple began to harden with pleasure. "None of them injections! Here, take a handful and see! You can't tell nothing about a tit jus' by lookin' at it."
Detweiller could sense his face positively glowing with embarrassment, but he accepted Tony's friendly invitation, deciding that it would certainly do no harm and anything which helped get Rosa turned on was a giant step forward in the progress of science. His hand was trembling wildly with excitement but he managed to close his fingers over the girl's tenderly yielding flesh without making a fool of himself. Tony had been absolutely right. It was the warmest, softest, and most touchable object he had ever held in the palm of his hand. He stroked it happily for a moment, deciding that when his tests were over, possibly Tony could be delicately invited to step out of the room and leave him alone with the fair Rosa for a few minutes. After all, this afternoon was costing him a small fortune and he owed it to Susan to get into practice.
"Boys, I'm having trouble getting into the mood," announced Rosa dully, sitting down on the bed and leaning back to allow the two men to continue caressing her reluctantly stiffening little nipples. "Come on, Doc, get out of your duds so I don't feel so damn inhibited."
Detweiller was embarrassed about the dimension of his body, but he realized that the prostitute was perfectly sincere about her request. He turned his back and undressed quickly, wishing that his penis would adopt a properly scientific attitude about the business at hand and stop twitching about so violently. There would be time for this later! For now, the important thing was getting those measurements taken.
"Good God!" drawled Tony reverently as Detweiller faced them naked, his long pole-like penis dangling lewdly in a half-erected state between his legs. "Excuse me, Doc, but I don't think I ever saw a cock that fuckin' big before."
Detweiller flushed, still embarrassed, but unable to resist being pleased at this crude compliment. In fact, the scientist's sexual equipment was perfectly in proportion to the rest of him. It was just that the rest of him was so huge!
"Uh ... I think the machinery's ready if you folks are," he stammered hesitantly as he sat down at the dials of his electroencephalograph.
"Well, my machinery's ready too," announced Tony gleefully. "What about you, honey?"
"Mnnnnnh, I dunno, Tony. I just feel like an animal in a laboratory," the girl complained, her face petulant and unhappy as she sprawled on the bed looking aimlessly at the ceiling.
Detweiller activated his instrument panel and studied a small television-like apparatus which transformed brain waves into visible signals. There were two lines on the graph, one bounding and throbbing powerfully, which was Tony, and one flat and listless, which unfortunately meant that Rosa was telling the truth. The girl was not the slightest bit excited. Detweiller gazed at her with irritated attention, wondering how it was humanly possible for such a lust-provoking creature to remain to blandly unlustful herself. Of course it was not the girl's fault, since she was obviously cooperating to the best of her ability, but unless she got steamed up eventually, he was going to lose all the money he had paid to the madam to rent the pair of them for the afternoon, and get nothing for his pain.
"Come on, Tony," he urged the girl's uncertain lover. "I thought you were the greatest stud in town since Joe Namath left. Turn her on!"
"I'll do my best, Doc," the young man promised sincerely. "Sometimes Rosa gets in these funny moods, but I kin usually get 'er started."
Rosa obediently spread her legs as her lover crawled onto the bed between them, his fat thick cock stabbing fiercely out of his hairy loins like a spear. The truth of the matter was that Rosa did not particularly love Tony. He was singularly stupid, and it was often tiresome to be obliged to satisfy his ardent lusts after she had spent a long hot night satisfying the burning desires of her paying customers. But a girl in her profession needed some protection, and besides, Tony could fuck like a madman when she really needed it and he never got jealous of her paying clients, like most pimps did sooner or later.
It was just that ... well, Rose was not exactly a virgin after three steady years of whoring, and the madam had been right when she had declared that the brassy redhead was one call-girl who really liked her work, but ... there was something disturbing about having this mad scientist sitting there nakedly hunched over his electronic contraption, his massive half-erected penis hanging lasciviously between his legs. He was glancing up at her expectantly every so often, and Rosa knew there was no point in faking sexual arousal as she sometimes had to do with a customer. Those electrodes taped to her skull would give her away. It was just that there was something perverse about his demand that she get excited, just like that! She would be perfectly happy to fuck for him, any position he wanted and any number of men, because it was all something she had done before, and she usually got plenty excited before her professional sessions were over. But then she was only renting her voluptuous young body to a stranger for money, which is what prostitutes were supposed to do. But this tall skinny man with the gigantic cock was invading her mind, trying to buy part of her which had never before been for sale. And he did not seem to want her himself, which made Rosa burn with resentment. Something deep within her normally agreeable nature rebelled, and she decided that today Tony would have to work for his reward!
But Tony was working, and her hips twitched involuntarily with pleasureful anticipation as the heavily muscled young pimp knelt over her submissive body and bent to torment her tiny brown nipples with his moistened lips. Her mind a jumble of conflicting emotions, she closed her eyes and relaxed as her lover began shifting his talented mouth from one ripely turgid breast to the other, leaving a path of lewd wetness across her gently heaving chest as he bit and tickled her slowly expanding nipples.
"I think we're beginning to get something," commented Detweiller, his eyes glued to the graph as he busily took notes on the characteristics of Rosa's brain waves.
Damn, thought the irritated young prostitute as she felt a certain familiar tingling sensation dance across the surface of her stomach. You can't hide anything from that guy! Up between her parted legs, Rosa felt the first stirrings of heated moisture in her experienced little vagina and her cuntal lips were starting to swell open with undeniable desire, a fact the scientist himself would be able to see if he would just tear his eyes away from his electroencephalograph!
Tony was beginning to throw himself into the project with a vengeance now and Rosa felt her resistance drop by another notch or two as he sucked powerfully on one throbbing breast, taking as much of her honeyed flesh into his mouth as he could and lashing the lust-provoked little nipple with his tongue. Rosa moaned faintly, hating herself for this display of weakness, and writhed helplessly on the mattress as her lover's lips began to trail wetly down across the flat smooth surface of her tummy, causing her hips to shift in restless response as he neared the sensitive brown triangle of her pussy.
"I'll eat her cunt a little, Doc," Tony reported cheerfully to the scientist, making Rosa blush with shame. "That always gets her."
Detweiller managed to tear his eyes away from the wonders of his electroencephalograph as Tony's muscular body slid into place, his face disappearing down between Rosa's lithely inviting thighs. For a moment, the scientist was almost overcome with envy. Never in the course of his sporadic and unsuccessful love-life had a sumptuously erotic woman stretched out on a bed before him and opened her legs willingly for the touch of his lips. And this idiot got to do it every day if he felt like it!
Detweiller closed his eyes in agony, trying to imagine the pleasures of running his mouth hungrily over Susan Klemper's throbbing hot cunt, but the image refused to form in his mind, and he reminded himself that he had never so much as seen Susan's cunt, throbbing or otherwise, except in a horribly long series of tantalizing erotic dreams.
In the meantime, the brain-wave emissions from Rosa's skull were growing more rapid and irregular as her excitement mounted involuntarily, and Detweiller set the tape running, realizing that these were precisely the kinds of electronic signals he was looking for. The girl's warmly sensuous body was jerking and twisting with painfully obvious lust as Tony's torturing lips invaded the curly-haired slit of her quivering cunt, his tongue flashing out serpent-like to lash at the rapidly dilating inner walls of her vagina.
Oh Christ, the young prostitute moaned to herself, you sure didn't hold out long that time, sweetheart! She sucked in air desperately, her hips rising up off the mattress in an instinctive movement designed to give her boyfriend the fullest access to the secret flesh of her womanhood. Tony was using his hands on her now, his fingers probing restlessly into the flower-like pinkness of her seeping vagina, and with a quick gasp of surrender, she pulled her knees back so far that they touched the lust-tightened tips of her breasts, now wanting to give it all to him, whatever he wanted to take.
The young pimp, who was something of an expert in these matters, opened her up carefully, massaging the faintly trembling little tab of her clitoris, and then evilly concentrated his energies on the defenselessly puckered circle of her rectum. Ignoring the babble of protests which broke from her anguished lips, he carefully inserted the stout shaft of his middle finger up into the moistly clasping hole of her anus, slowly working it back and forth as he teased her overwrought young body with a deliberate passion.
"No, Tony, no..." she groaned, knowing that it was useless to protest, but unable to accept the indignity of having her anus ravaged while a scientist sat at the edge of the bed and took notes. In fact, Rosa seldom allowed a client to touch her there and the sexual use of her rear passage was strictly reserved for Tony, on nights when he felt in the mood for something special. But doing it in front of someone else somehow seemed indecent, obscene...
"Ooooooooghhhh ... yes..." she found herself babbling as the man's extended finger slid all the way up into her vainly protesting anus, exciting her sensitive nether flesh which lay hidden deep inside the darkness of her rectum while his lips nibbled and teased the throbbing little button of her clitoris until she thought she was going straight out of her mind. She could take no more of this, she realized with a pang of regret. She was becoming far too excited and before long would start behaving like an absolute idiot, screaming and begging to be fucked the way she sometimes did when on of her clients proved to be too much of an expert. This was why Rosa was the most popular girl in the madam's house, and Rosa herself knew that she had the lowest boiling point in the history of prostitution. God, how she needed it!
"Tony," she whispered, trying to speak in a soft controlled voice, despite the fact that her massively over-stimulated body was quivering like a leaf. "I'm ready now, honey. Come on and fuck me good!"
"Okay, baby," Tony responded, lifting his face from her moistly flowering pussy and grinning obscenely up at her. "Hang on, 'cause yer boy is ready for a real ride!"
"No!" said Detweiller, his own cock quivering with the incredible lust which seemed to be filling the room but determined that the experiment would be conducted according to his rules. "Not yet!"
"She's ready, Doc!" protested Tony, bewildered.
"I want her going out of her mind before you satisfy her," directed Detweiller, his voice husky with rampant desire. "This is the essential part of the experiment."
Tony grinned, not understanding the scientific logic involved but sadistically delighted by the idea of sending Rosa up the wall with lust before he got down to business and fucked both their minds out.
And his redheaded girlfriend was no longer sufficiently in control of herself to object to any bizarre scheme the scientist chose to come up with. Her long, finely tapered legs splayed out obscenely and she rocked back on her shoulders as Tony seized her roughly by the buttocks and lifted her loins bodily into the air with pure brute strength. She thought he was going to go back to sucking the tiny pulsating bud of her clitoris, but instead his fingers dug cruelly into the fragile white flesh of her ass-cheeks as he speared his wetly quivering tongue deep into the tightly-clasped ring of her anus.
"Aaaaaggggghhhhh!! ! " her anguished voice filled the room and the girl's tormented body jerked as if she were a patient receiving electro-shock. "Nooooooohhhhhhh!"
"That's it!" cried Detweiller excitedly. "Keep it up! My God, she's going off the graph! Not even my monkeys got this turned on!"
"You wanna see 'er really hit the roof?" asked Tony lasciviously, his own level of sensual arousal close to the maximum. "What really drives this chick insane is a poke in the ass!"
"No! Nooooohhhh!" screamed Rosa as her lover's words pierced the sensual fog she was floating in. "Not in front of him, Tony, please! Please!"
Detweiller's hands were trembling, but his scientific presence of mind did not desert him now, even in the frenzy of the moment, and he carefully observed that the moment Tony introduced the idea of anal intercourse, the brain-wave pattern indicating Rosa's state of excitement had gone wild, leaping across the machine as if his instrument panel were having a nervous breakdown. Rosa might be saying no with her mouth, but both her frontal lobes were screaming yes!
"Go ahead, then," he ordered tersely. "And make it good!"
"Oooohhhh," Rosa's mind shattered completely as Tony rolled her quickly over onto her stomach with her head facing Detweiller and her knees tucked beneath her so that the tenderly tempting half-moons of her buttocks were waving obscenely in the air. "Oh fuck it, Tony," she was crooning, now half out of her mind with the unquenchable desire which had destroyed the last vestiges of what little self-control she had started with. Tony's thick, blood-hardened cock would hurt as he bludgeoned his way up into her anal intimacy, but she wanted that hurt to cool her feverish mind, to punish her hotly aroused flesh for the way she had lost control over her emotions. A really good professional should be as cold as an iceberg, she told herself bitterly, and you're erupting like a volcano!
Tony was enjoying himself, knowing from experience that Rosa was fundamentally an anal-erotic, despite the fact that neither one of them could have pronounced the word. Slowly and torturously, he caressed the smooth taut warmness of the crevice between her buttocks and watched the puckered little circle of her anus flexing wildly in instinctive response. He fingered the tiny bud obscenely, chuckling as she reared back at him, her hips twitching with an unmistakable plea, the warmly pulsating furrow of her anus begging to be invaded by the hardness of his blood-engorged penis.
Sadistically, the man ran the scarlet tip of his cock up and down over the wetly quivering flesh of her anus, feeling her voluptuous body trembling with anticipation of the pain and the pleasure his rigid impalement would bring. The man knew that she wanted it here, no matter what she said, and his eyes widened with carnal joy as he watched her anus dilate, the soft pink inner flesh of her rectum pulsating outward with rampant desire. The urge to fuck her there was now uncontrollable and he could not have stopped himself no matter what orders Detweiller had issued from behind his electroencephalograph. But the scientist seemed to be past the stage of issuing orders. His own cock was rigid now, every last lust-swollen inch of it, and the big man was sitting on the edge of his chair, ignoring his gyrating instruments, his eyes trained on the savagely obscene drama being enacted before him. Tony chuckled and poised his aching member at the very entrance to Rosa's wildly convulsing rectum.
"Ohhhhhh!" she groaned. "Yes, my darling, do it to me there. In my ass ... yes..."
Rosa ground her teeth, waiting for the cooling which would calm her fevered body and feeling her lover's massive cock pressing hotly into the narrow furrow between her finger-spread buttocks. She relaxed her muscles, yielding to him submissively, and the next thing she knew, his enormous blunt cock-head was worming its way up into her wide-stretching young anus! She was taking it all, the entire desire-thickened girth of him, with one stroke, and there was no pain. Inside her lewdly distended anus, she could feel his surging member twitching and flexing, but there was not the slightest twinge of discomfort. She was too excited!
"Fuck me," the skewered young prostitute said, her voice deep and husky with yearning. "Fuck me till I scream!"
She opened her eyes as Tony began slowly working his way in and out of the dark moist passage of her rectum, discovering that the scientist had moved his chair even closer to the bed and was no longer paying any attention to his instruments or even taking notes. He was watching, his eyes wide with evident desire, and Rosa felt a surge of carnal triumph as she saw that his incredible cock was waving lewdly in her face. She had gotten through to him after all!
Rosa was in a funny mood, and she realized with what little was left of her mind that the very thing which had been turning her off before the presence of this tall bony scientist with the impossibly long penis was now turning her on! She grunted with perverse sensual pleasure as Tony's super-hardened shaft of male flesh slithered lustfully in and out of her offended nether opening, but her eyes were focused on Detweiller's lust-provoked cock, bobbing obscenely only a few feet away from her. The man was conscious that she was watching him, and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, embarrassed about the size of his erection.
So he's the timid type, huh? thought Rosa, with a plan in mind. He doesn't mind arranging for me to freak out while I'm taking it in the ass, but it upsets him to admit he's human too. Well, Mister Scientist, maybe we can really make your day for you!
Suddenly the sensual young prostitute felt overpowered by an inexplicable desire to touch that magnificent cock. Despite the fact that she had been to bed with thousands of different men in her highly successful career, she had never before seen a cock which remotely compared with Detweiller's massive masculine equipment and the more she looked at it, the more she wanted it!
"You ... " she grunted as Tony pushed deeply within her inflamed anus. "Come here."
"Me?" asked Detweiller in alarm, his blush deepening to a scarlet hue.
"Yeah, you! Come here, and bring that goddamn battering ram with you! If you can carry it!"
Detweiller looked around desperately as if he were contemplating making a break for freedom, but in fact the young scientist was mesmerized by everything which was happening to him this afternoon. He had envisioned himself sitting coldly next to his electroencephalograph, draped in his neat white laboratory coat, and conducting this obscene experiment with scientific objectivity and detachment. And then Rosa had insisted that he take off his clothes. And after that, his penis had disobeyed his precise instructions to stay out of sight. And now this sinful woman was calling him, entreating him to join her and her happily rutting boyfriend on the bed where the two of them were screwing like a pair of demented rabbits. What had happened to his famous scientific attitude? And what exactly did she want to do with him, anyway?
Rosa opened her mouth wide and wiggled her tempting pink tongue out lewdly at him as Detweiller stumbled to his feet, all his questions abruptly answered. It was only a few faltering steps to the bed and he eased himself down in front of the girl, lying on his side and wondering precisely what he ought to do.
She touched him with her hands, and Detweiller's body trembled with an urgent desire, stronger than anything he had ever known before even wilder than when he'd watched Professor Martin being sucked off by his secretary! This was going to be a new experience, he reminded himself, and he tried to remember to observe scientifically just what she did and exactly what physiological reactions it produced in him, but the moment she began softly caressing him, he forgot all about taking notes. Her fingers cupped the sperm-filled sack of his testicles and with a slow, torturously deliberate pressure of her other hand, Rosa deftly slid back his foreskin, revealing the bright crimson knob of his glans, quivering only a few lustful inches from her waiting mouth.
Tony was watching with amused interest, his hips flicking slowly in and out as he drove his lust-hardened cock jubilantly into the moistly churning softness of his girlfriend's welcoming rectum. And Detweiller's eyes widened with desire and confusion as the girl leaned forward, the small pink tip of her tongue darting out playfully, and planted a warm sensuous kiss of lust on his hotly bulging glans.
"Oh God," he muttered as a spasm of pure animal pleasure rocketed through his elongated body. He came within inches of ejaculating right then and there, right into her passion-contorted face, but he controlled himself by mentally reciting the alphabetical list of all the chemical elements together with their atomic weights and numbers. When he arrived at molybdenum, a silver-white malleable metal which burns to form molybdenum oxide at temperatures above 600 degrees Centigrade, he felt sufficiently under control to open his eyes again. Rosa was panting heavily, like a bitch in heat, studying his rigid penis like a biology student preparing for an examination on the subject. Then, moving maddeningly slowly, she tugged him forward, bending lower to pass the softness of her tongue-moistened lips over his lust-swollen cock-head.
Detweiller groaned. Never in his life, even in his wildest erotic dreams, had he known a sensation as soft and blissful as this. Her mouth was like melted butter, like liquid paradise, and he could feel her tongue working sensually on him, washing lewdly back and forth across his lust-sensitized flesh, before probing hard into the tiny cum-filled slit on the tip.
Rosa listened to the tall, gangly scientist groan and mutter in delight above her head, and she thrilled with the joy of victory. So she wasn't the only one who sometimes got a little over-excited! And if there was one thing she really knew how to do in her profession of prostitution, it was this.
Normally, of course, she did not really enjoy sucking a cock. It was humiliating to kneel below a man, accepting his long punishing rod deep into her throat, and then of course there was the horrid moment when the customer came, spilling his hot thick seed into the back of her mouth, usually forcing her to swallow its sticky warmth.
But once in a while, when she was really, really excited, and the cock in question was very big, she wanted it in her mouth more than anything in the world. And today was one of those days, one of those moments when Rosa felt she could suck cock until the cum came pouring out her ears.
"Ummmmmh," she gurgled, feeling Tony stab extra deep into her cruelly violated anus. With agile fingers, she fed Detweiller's over-long rod of perversely stimulated male flesh slowly up into her ovaled mouth, accepting him inch by inch into the warm wet depths of her throat. After a certain amount of practice, the uninhibited redhead had found she was able to take a man deeper than would normally seem possible for a human being, and between her lips and tongue and the muscles of her throat, she could exert an incredible pressure on his sensitive cock. It had taken lots of practice to develop this bizarre technique, and she was proud of it.
And now she decided to use it on Detweiller until he begged for mercy! This was the biggest, hottest cock she had ever sucked, and she worked over him like a madwoman, nibbling and tasting, licking and teasing until she felt the man's hips begin to jerk involuntarily back and forth as his desire increased by leaps and bounds. With an agonizing slowness, she bathed the length of his pulsating manhood with heated saliva, gently playing with his sperm-laden testicles and feeling his excitement grow to an impossible level.
So he could treat them like laboratory animals? Join the monkey cage, Dr. Detweiller!
"Oooooooohhhhh!! ! ! ! " moaned the scientist in pure unadulterated happiness, feeling the velvety texture of her tongue lashing tirelessly across the wildly tingling nerve centers in his cock, bringing him closer and closer to the crucial moment. He considered trying to slow himself down by picking up the list of elements at neodymium and going right on through to zirconium, but the sensual pressure would have been too much even for Einstein at the moment, and he could feel his balls positively aching with lust. He could not stand it much longer! Something had to give!
It gave.
Rosa groaned in ecstasy as she felt her reward bubbling forth from Detweiller's overburdened testicles and come storming up the length of his pounding cock into her welcoming young mouth. The taste of hot searing cum filled her with an incredible frenzied desire and she sucked him dry with the mindless carnal fury of a lunatic, pulling him deeper and deeper into her gurgling, cum-filled throat. The young scientist gasped at the maddening contractions of her throat around his spending member, and his hands clung to her head as if he was afraid she were planning on ruining it all at the last moment by pulling away from him.
But Rosa had no intention of backing out now. Greedily, she gulped his raging semen, her Adam's apple bobbing wildly as she drank his life-seed deep into her cock-filled belly. Behind her, she could feel that the fire was rapidly spreading. Tony was plunging his burning cock hard into her cruelly stretched anus as if this were going to be the last thing he ever did on earth and he had to make it good.
Another second went by and the world began to spin for the young red-haired prostitute. Detweiller was still cumming endlessly into her mouth, and as the white-hot semen poured violently down her throat, Tony exploded behind her, sending thunderbolts of lust searing up her backbone as his boiling sperm invaded the moistly pulsating depths of her rectum.
"I'm cumming," she suddenly groaned, her deep alto voice distorted by the presence of Detweiller's wildly ejaculating penis still lodged obscenely in the back of her throat. "God, how I'm cumming!"
Her nostrils flared wildly and the three of them seemed to spasm off into simultaneous orbit. The room was filled with groans and cries and the sound of Tony's loins slapping viciously against his girlfriend's tender buttocks as the young pimp emptied the fruit of his loins into her savagely violated rectum.
Then for a moment there was silence.
A crackle of static electricity from Detweiller's electroencephalograph broke the spell and a thin blue haze of smoke emerged from beneath the instrument panel.
"We seem to have blown a fuse," he commented contentedly, withdrawing his slowly deflating penis from the young whore's wetly cum-smeared lips and sitting up, a deep and abiding sense of well-being pervading his soul.
CHAPTER THREE
The odor was terrific, but Detweiller reminded himself that the pursuit of scientific wisdom was likely to involve certain inconveniences and he was rearranging his long legs in the narrow compartment of the men's room of the YMCA when John F. Willinski came in with his friend, Kenneth Turner. Both men had just dined in the YMCA cafeteria. Both men had diarrhea.
"This one's locked," announced Turner as he tried the door to the stall where Detweiller was hidden. "Some other poor bastard must have eaten that plum cake."
"Man, I'm gonna explode in a minute," groaned Willinski in pure abdominal agony as he let himself into the toilet compartment to the right of Detweiller's command post while the other plum-cake eater occupied the stall to the left. There was the sound of zippers and pants falling to the floor.
"OOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!! ! ! ! " the two men chorused simultaneously.
It was like Hiroshima, crossed with Dresden, buried in camel turd for a light year, and then mixed with swamp gas and rotten eggs.
Detweiller repressed a gagging sensation and tried not to breathe, his face white with nausea as he checked the dials on his electroencephalograph to make sure that the readings were being properly recorded.
They were. As soon as Willinski and Turner had staggered out, fastening their belts and swearing off plum cake for the remainder of eternity, Detweiller packed up his instruments and left. He did not know precisely why he had bothered to collect this particular variety of human brain wave, but he had half an idea that it might come in useful some day.
You never can tell, he told himself, smiling grimly.
* * *
"Excuse me," said the tall pale young man with the extravagantly large suitcase under his arm, "but you must be the Manager's mangier ... I mean the Mangler's manager."
"You tryin' to be funny or something?" said the short pugnacious man with the luminous red nose who was baring the way to the dressing room. "Get yer ass outa here! This ain't the men's room!"
"Yes ... uh ... tell me, is the Mangier expected to win tonight?"
"This ain't a bookie joint either! Whaddaya want anyway?'
"I'm a scientist," explained Detweiller earnestly, talking as fast as he could in effort to get his message across before the Mangler's manager lost what little remained of his patience and slammed the door in his face.
"Hot shit! So yer a scientist! This ain't the Mayo Clinic!"
"I want to run an experiment on the Mangier when he wrestles tonight. Do you think he'll lose his temper?"
"How the fuck do I know?" exploded the manager, his bald head turning crimson red. "This ain't a shrink's office!"
By this time, Detweiller had gotten one foot and the edge of his electroencephalograph into the Mangler's dressing room and the Mangier himself looked up from a table where he was being given a rubdown. He was as tall as Detweiller and weighed about three hundred pounds, of which two hundred and ninety-five appeared to be solid muscle.
"Oh Rodney, don't be such a bore," he said without irritation. "Scientists fascinate me, especially when they're good-looking. Come in, dear boy, and tell me about your experiment."
Detweiller noticed that the Mangier spoke with a distinct lisp, but Rodney stepped unwillingly aside and allowed the scientist to enter.
"This ain't a meetin' hall," he said bitterly, but he was running out of gas and he knew it.
"Excuse me ... Mister ... ah ... Mangier," Timothy began, "but I wondered if I could possibly fasten this electrode to your skull tonight before you wrestle. I'll be sitting in the front row cheering for you, naturally and recording your brain waves..."
"Why, Rodney says I don't have any brain waves," giggled the wrestler, waving a singularly limp wrist at Detweiller. "But you can fasten anything you want to my skull. Perhaps we could have dinner after the match?"
"Uh ... well...."
"Listen, this ain't a Lonely Hearts' Club," raged Rodney, offended since he was normally the Mangler's dinner partner. "What's this all about?"
"Well, at my laboratory, we're doing some research on ... uh ... anger, and I've heard that sometimes the Mangier here ... uh ... loses his temper in the ring."
"When he's not too busy feeling the other guy's balls," grunted Rodney. "Which ain't likely tonight."
"Uh, why not tonight?" inquired Detweiller, a little perplexed.
"Tonight, he's meetin' the Masked Monster and the Masked Monster don't like havin' his balls felt up in public. The Mangier had better lose his temper or the Monster'll wipe up the auditorium with him."
"Rodney, he's a very nice man, the Monster is, and I wouldn't dream of feeling his balls," the
Mangier retorted, sounding hurt at the accusation despite the earnest effort he was making to feel Detweiller's balls. The scientist dodged around to the other side of the rubdown table and quickly fastened the electrode to the base of the Mangler's skull.
"You better get your ass outa here, kid," said Rodney, taking a long, vicious-looking whip out of a suitcase. "It's two minutes before the bell, and I gotta see if I kin rile him up a little or he's gonna get murdered out there."
"Not the whip, Rodney!" begged the Mangier, sinking to his knees in abject terror as Detweiller collected his instruments and edged towards the door.
"You dirty faggot!" snarled the manager, who was five foot two inches tall, swinging the whip over his head. "Hate! Kill! Blood! Murder!"
* * *
The Mangier, who was basically a very friendly man, kept his temper while the Masked Monster butted him in the stomach, wrapped him in the ropes and kicked him in the shins, pounded his head into a corner post and then threw him bodily into the air, karate chopping his kidneys as he fell.
In the second round, the Masked Monster sadistically rubbed the Mangler's face in the canvas, knead him in the testicles, twisted his arm behind his back, gouged his left eye and loosened one tooth, but the Mangier did not lose him temper.
Detweiller looked at the depressingly flat line on his electroencephalograph and felt despair sinking over him. Despite the carnage, the Mangier was as happy as a three year old making mud pies. The third round was about to begin when the Mangier peered down at Detweiller who was hunched over his equipment in the front row and grinned lecherously.
"Don't forget, blue eyes. We're having din-din later, just you and me."
A wave of inspiration swept over Detweiller. Cupping his hands over his mouth to be heard above the roar of the crowd, he screamed back.
"Not tonight! I've accepted a date with the Masked Monster!"
"Who?" shouted, the Mangier in rage.
"Him!" retorted Detweiller, pointing at the mystified Masked Monster.
The bell rang.
Regrettably, the Mangier lost his temper. Detweiller managed to get his electroencephalograph out of the auditorium just before a battalion of riot police with nightsticks and tear gas came in to break it up. The brain waves were beautiful, and Detweiller had a very good idea of what he was going to do with them.
* * *
Detweiller called in sick to the Hudson Valley Research Institute and was gratified to hear how upset Susan was when she learned that he was not coming in that day to give her a hand with her glowworms. In fact, Detweiller had never felt better in his life, despite the fact that he had worked all night on the invention to which he was now putting the finishing touches. The wiring was intricate and complicated, a miracle of miniaturization, but the finishing was perfect and from the outside, the apparatus resembled a normal-sized attache case. It was, in fact, the first known version of what Detweiller called a Portable Amplifying Brain Wave Emittor Module, or PABWEM, for short.
What the PABWEM did, in layman's terms, was to amplify and broadcast select human brain waves at anyone whose skull Detweiller wanted to invade. At one end was a magnifying directional transmitter, which targeted the electronic signals into a powerful invisible beam, and at the other end, disguised as a lock, was a tuning device, which selected the desired modulation of the brain wave. There were four positions on the selector:
I. Violent Aggressive Behavior
2. Intense Sexual Desire
3. Distorted Sexual Desire
4. Irresistible Defecatory Urge
Detweiller was tense as he walked through the city, knowing that he had to test the PABWEM on his unsuspecting fellow citizens. Of course it would be easy enough to finish his experiments at the research institute, but if the PABWEM did what it was supposed to do, it was strategically important that neither Susan Klemper or Professor Martin should know about it at this stage. They would find out in due course, when it was too late, since Detweiller had fairly specific plans for both of them.
The young scientist turned into the City Park, enjoying the warmth of the sun and looking around for potential test subjects. At this hour, most people were still at home or on their way to their offices and there was hardly anyone to be seen. Detweiller eventually found a party of Japanese tourists taking photographs with their Nikons of a large bronze statue of George Washington, which was almost entirely covered with pigeon-shit. The condition of the statue gave Detweiller an idea and he thought about Pearl Harbor and sneak attacks in general as he maneuvered himself up behind the statue and casually set the PABWEM on the pedestal, pointing towards the tourists. Expertly, he adjusted the dial to the setting he wanted and turned the power up to medium, not wanting to cause any heart attacks or riots this early in the morning.
The PABWEM purred into life and the man who had been describing George Washington in
Japanese for the benefit of the group suddenly stopped talking and started looking distinctly uncomfortable. In fact, they all began looking decidedly unhappy and an ominous silence fell over the group. One man put his hands in his pockets and gritted his teeth. Several women pressed their fingers to their loins and gazed longingly at a nearby clump of trees. One elderly gentleman grunted softly and began strolling off towards some high grass, attempting to look casual.
Detweiller grinned sadistically and then gave them full strength. The tour group scattered. Most of them made it to the nearest group of trees, but some of them unfortunately did not. A passing school teacher with a flock of third-graders out for a nature walk saw a half-dozen dignified Japanese gentlemen dropping their pants and excreting profusely at the base of the statue of George Washington and one gray-haired old lady defecating heartily next to a bird bath. The horrified teacher began screaming for the police as the third-graders all started to giggle and point. Detweiller, who was quickly becoming an expert on evacuating the area just before the riot broke out, quickly switched the PABWEM off and left.
He was feeling good, a god-like sense of power and well-being suffusing his body, and he strolled happily through the greenness of the park, looking for more experimental people. It was scientifically interesting to know that he could make people want to go to the bathroom whenever he flipped a switch, but this would not help him with his problem with Susan and the real test lay ahead of him. The batteries in the PABWEM were good for only about thirty minutes at full power and he knew he was going to have to choose his experiments carefully.
He saw the hippie couple sitting on the bench as he emerged from behind some tall bushes, and noted immediately that in back of their bench was a clump of very suitable trees in which a mad scientist might conveniently conceal himself. There was no one else around, and the hippies seemed too engrossed in their conversation to notice. Detweiller circled carefully around behind them, watching his step to avoid crunching dry leaves or twigs which would betray his presence. After a minute's maneuvering, he found a position a few feet behind the park bench from which he could blast them with amplified brain waves to his heart's desire and observe the results.
They were an ideal couple. The boy was skinny with a scraggly beard barely covering a fresh crop of teenage pimples and a face only a near-sighted mother could love. He was wearing a pink translucent shirt with peace signs hand-painted on it, and a string of beads around his neck and his hair was dirty and tied in the most unattractive ponytail Detweiller had ever seen on a member of either sex.
"But Gloria," he was entreating, his voice high and quivering. "I ... I understood you were, like, super-cool about screwing..."
Gloria was much easier on the eyes than her male companion. She was about twenty years old and wore steel-rimmed granny glasses over limpid blue eyes and her hair was long and blonde, falling freely to the small of her back. She was wearing a shapeless full-length skirt which concealed her hips and thighs, but one glance at the top half of her suggested a warmly sensuous figure below. Her blouse was nearly transparent like her friend's and as she moved, Detweiller could see two tempting dark spots which danced up and down beneath the thin material, revealing that like most hippie girls, Gloria had no particular use for brassieres.
"Man, I don't wanna lay it on you heavy, baby, but there are limits to being super-cool," Gloria was telling him severely, drawing her skirts around her as she edged away from him on the bench. "But you and me don't groove you dig what I mean? The vibes are very heavy, Luke, terrifically heavy."
Detweiller felt sorry for the young man, remembering numerous incidents in his own past when beautiful women had felt obliged to explain in great detail precisely why it was that they would not go to bed with him. But Luke was not persuaded.
"Jesus, I mean this is really uncool! That night we had the pot-blast at Stevie's, you got stoned and made it with Stevie and Fred and
Maxwell and Linda and Stevie's German shepherd. What's a fucking German shepherd got that I haven't got?"
The girl blushed angrily.
"You would bring that up, wouldn't you? I suppose you've been telling everybody you know that Gloria makes it with German shepherds!" she snarled at him. "I was zonked, that's all, you know what I mean, freaked out of my skull on that groovy Lebanese hash. And then the lights went out and this dynamite male was doing it to me from behind and it wasn't until afterwards that I realized that it was Stevie's dog. Luke, a mistake like that could happen to anyone and I wish you'd stop thinking about it. The damn mutt couldn't make me cum anyway and I'll never see him again."
"He was wagging his tail like mad," grumbled Luke bitterly and Detweiller began positioning the PABWEM, determined that this human tragedy would have a happy ending, or at least a decent chapter or two. On his own, poor Luke was going to get nowhere with this chick. But if Gloria could go for Luke with some electronic assistance, then Susan would go for Detweiller in the same scientific way.
Warm 'em up slow, Detweiller instructed himself, his scientific caution asserting itself as he activated the machine and directed it so that the beam would pass silently through both of their heads simultaneously. Poor Luke did not really require assistance from a bombardment of electrons, but it was important that both hippies be operating on the same wave length.
He set the beam on low and watched from his place of concealment as the young people shifted nervously on the bench. Gloria seemed to have moved slightly closer to her scorned and rejected lover.
"I've hurt you, haven't I, baby?" she inquired, her voice noticeably softer. She reached out tenderly and stroked his hand.
"It ain't easy, y'know, playing second fiddle to a German shepherd," groaned Luke, tears in his eyes. "I tried to pull him off you and the son-of-a-bitch bit my hand. I spent the rest of the night with a bottle of iodine."
"Poor baby," she whispered sincerely, her voice thickening as Detweiller's lust-beams invade her frontal lobes. "I wish you had ... y'know ... gotten through the crowd to me that night. I was really flying and it would have been beautiful."
Somehow Luke's hand wound its way around the girl's supple waist and their faces were close. Detweiller strained his ears to hear.
"Really? I ... I had this incredible urge to fuck you that night and ... I've got it again right now!" he muttered obscenely in her ear. "I'd like to do it right here! Right here in the park!"
Gloria seemed to be sobbing, or perhaps panting, but it was impossible to tell since their lips merged at that point and as nearly as
Detweiller could tell from behind the tree, Gloria's tongue was either intruding into Luke's mouth of its own free will or being sucked there by Luke. It amounted to about the same thing and the scientist nudged the dial on the PABWEM a little higher, wanting to give the unsightly Luke all the help he could handle. The boy's hand soon found its trembling way to the softly rising fullness of the girl's unbrassiered left breast and she purred with excitement as he stroked her thinly covered flesh. Her hand, in turn, seemed to creep into Luke's lap to fondle the steady rising shaft of the young hippie's penis.
Detweiller could barely believe his eyes! The PABWEM was still set on low! What would it do to them on medium? One way to find out. With a deft flick of his wrist, Detweiller stepped up the power.
"I feel so strange," the girl reported breathlessly, her fingers struggling with the zipper on Luke's faded blue jeans. "I can't explain it, but there's this far-out feeling in my stomach ... blowing my mind..."
"Your breasts," gulped Luke in sheer burning desire as his hands roamed hotly over the surface of the girl's transparent blouse. "God, how I love your breasts!"
"Oh, unbutton me, please! Touch my nipples!" Gloria begged him as she unzipped his pants and pushed her fingers into his open fly in search of his hardened adolescent cock.
Luke complied immediately with her lascivious request, simply ripping the buttons off her blouse one by one and pulling the fragile garment down over the smooth cream-whiteness of her shoulders. They were mouth-wateringly beautiful breasts, Detweiller observed, high-set and firm with tiny rosy nipples now stiffening with rampant desire. The scientist found himself envying Luke and even Stevie's German shepherd for the pleasures they could take with this sumptuous young lady.
Luke's cock appeared suddenly from nowhere, enclosed thickly in Gloria's fingers and Detweiller noticed that the aroused teenager was fully and adequately masculine, despite his pimples and shaggy beard. The blonde girl began tugging on him desperately, caressing his long pulsating shaft with her hands while Luke occupied himself with sucking each of her lust-provoking little nipples into an excruciating state of hardness.
"Oh Christ," Gloria gasped as she came up for air. "Whose place is closest? I've got to have it, baby! I need it inside of me!"
"No time," muttered Luke passionately, pulling her blouse off entirely and then attacking the buttons on her skirt, a process which was complicated by the fact that Gloria had chosen this precise moment to plunge Luke's burning cock deep into her open mouth, sucking on him fiercely. Their position on the bench became untenable from a structural point of view, but the young man managed to yank her skirt and panties down over the lushness of her full white thighs as they rolled on the ground, a difficult maneuver since his rod-like penis was still embedded deep in the young girl's wildly sucking mouth.
What the hell, thought Detweiller as he switched the PABWEM from medium to high. You 're only young once.
"Oh, fuck me, baby, fuck meeeeeeeeh!" Gloria groaned, releasing Luke's rigid instrument from between her lips only long enough to make this impassioned request. "I don't care who see us!"
Nor did Luke particularly care who saw them. There was a growing pile of discarded clothing on the ground next to them and the young man's blue jeans landed on top of Gloria's full-length skirt as the two of them got naked with a speed which would have astonished a professional stripper. As soon as she was free of her garments, Gloria stretched out submissively on her back, her legs instinctively spreading apart as Luke hovered over her lustfully, his long skinny cock protruding from his thinly-haired loins like an anti-aircraft gun on a battleship.
Things were happening too fast now for Detweiller to follow. Out of one corner of his eye, he saw the policeman several hundred yards away stop and stare, but the young scientist could not tear his eyes away from the incredibly sensual scene in front of him long enough to worry too much about the possible arrival of the forces of law and order.
Gloria's sensually full hips arched upward to meet the young man's spearing loins in an entrancing display of naked lust, the soft blonde triangle of her pussy hair already quivering moistly with irrepressible desire. Shimmering with the reflected light of the mid-morning sun, the girl's tiny jewel-like clitoris glistened pinkly with the sweet moisture of her arousal, and the policeman must have seen it as well. Breaking into an angry trot, he stormed up to the happily rutting couple with his nightstick at the ready.
"I'm gonna fuck you inside out!" Luke growled passionately down at Gloria as the scarlet glans of his elongated cock found its way into the fleshy pink furrow of her loins and the girl's tempting thighs spread even farther apart to accommodate his forcefully invading member.
"Oh, screw me till I scream," beseeched Gloria in absolute ecstasy as Luke's lust-driven penis plunged homeward, impaling her like a butterfly on a pin. "Fuck me everywhere! My mouth, my ass, my cunt...."
Detweiller, his own swollen penis threatening to break through the confinement of his pants, considered the dynamics of the situation for a moment. His own position was not dangerous and if questioned by the policeman he could plausibly claim to have been passing by on legitimate business and to have stopped, as any normal man would, to observe this unusual bit of public affection. However, he was worried about Luke, for whom he felt a certain sense of kinship. The cop, a great red-haired Irishman, was only about twenty feet away now and coming on hard, his nightstick raised with the obvious intention of laying it smartly along the back of the young hippie's head. To be beaten to a pulp by a policeman while in the midst of fucking the girl of one's wet-dreams was not likely to be a pleasant experience, and the scientist considered ways of forestalling this tragedy.
Moving quickly, he narrowed the beam in order to concentrate its power and shifted the suitcase so that the electronic signal was aimed straight at the oncoming representative of the law.
The policeman was fundamentally a very decent man named Gillespie, and he stopped short, a puzzled expression on his face and the nightstick slipping from his fingers as he stared in astonishment at the two wildly copulating teenagers at his feet. Neither Gloria nor Luke paid any attention to him at all, and Detweiller adjusted the beam again so that he got all three of them simultaneously with maximum power.
"This is against the law!" the policeman managed to stammer, looking down at the rapid rise and fall of Luke's naked white buttocks as the young man delivered one cunt-plumbing blow after another to the ecstatic young blonde beneath him. Gloria's finely tapered legs were wrapped obscenely up around the small of her new lover's back and their bodies glistened with sweat, grinding together like well-oiled gears.
"Article forty-seven ... uh ... of the civic code ... prohibits lewd or obscene behavior ... " His mind reeling under the massive bombardment of lust-modulated electronic signals, Gillespie dropped to his knees next to the oblivious couple, his eyes focused on Gloria's right breast, the tiny little nipple now hard and stiffened with urgent desire. "I'm gonna hafta bring you in fer ... uh..."
"We love you, officer," panted Gloria, reaching out with one free hand and stroking the policeman's troubled face.
Detweiller had to admire Gillespie's internal fortitude. Even as he seized Gloria's hand and pressed it passionately to his lips, he kept on trying to enforce the Municipal Public Park Code, which, among other things, prohibited fornication on the grass.
"I love you kids too," he conceded, his voice heavy with desire as he stroked Gloria's tempting right breast, taking the turgid little nipple and rolling it back and forth between his trembling fingers. "But you ain't supposed to ... God, you're beautiful, girl ... are you gonna cum, kid?"
"Any minute ... now..." gasped Luke, out of breath from his exertions. "Christ! I love you too, officer!"
Patrolman Gillespie was having some difficulty enunciating properly, but his body was making the proper responses and he stretched out full length next to the ecstatically screwing couple and let Gloria undo the buttons on his fly. With one hand, she fished his hardened cock out so she could stroke it while Luke reached his climax.
"I'm sorry we've been tough on you kids during demonstrations ... and uh ... if you wanna smoke a little grass once in awhile ... it's okay with me," Gillespie told them sincerely. "Yeah, like that, honey. Harder."
Gloria was milking him furiously now, her hand a blur of motion around his thick red penis, and Gillespie's hips were jerking convulsively back and forth. Luke's body was obviously raging out of control, as his hips battered brutally between the upturned thighs of the voluptuously supple young woman groaning spastically below him on the grass.
"And we're sorry we've called you nasty names, like Fascist Pig," Gloria apologized just before fastening her mouth over Luke's and stepping up the lewd rhythm with which her hand was pumping Officer Gillespie's turgid cock. The girl's tawny young body was slippery with sweat and from where Detweiller was watching, the three figures seemed to be gradually merging into one as the patrolman inched closer.
"I'm cumming!" groaned Luke in a high agonized voice as his body seemed to go into an epileptic fit.
"Oh cum, my darling," thrilled Gloria, wrapping her one free arm tightly up around his neck.
"Atta boy, cum fer all yer worth!" enthused Gillespie, patting Luke on the buttocks as the hotly steaming semen rushed inexorably from the depths of the overtaxed boy's testicles and shot deep into the uppermost reaches of Gloria's quivering belly.
"Oh God, it's so good!" raved Luke happily as the orgasm swept over him, but surprisingly his glistening cock showed no signs of becoming soft or flaccid. Detweiller noted this fact on a pad, observing carefully as the young man withdrew his still rigid instrument from the churning depths of Gloria's passion-inflamed cunt, a little amazed at this unexpected prowess.
"I need it some more," groaned Gloria desperately, seizing Luke's retreating penis as if she were afraid that it was going to be permanently removed from her life.
"We've got a guest, baby," he reminded the girl and then turned generously to the waiting Gillespie. "Go ahead, Officer," he invited him sincerely, "you take her for awhile. Got to get my breath back."
* * *
When Detweiller left them fifteen minutes later, the three of them were passing a reefer back and forth while they rested up for another round. Gloria had started to cum the moment officer Gillespie entered her and she came seven more times before he was finished. Then Luke had gotten back into the saddle and pushed her personal world record up to twelve.
But the batteries of the PABWEM were running dangerously low, even if Gloria's seemed to be inexhaustible, and Detweiller did not want the responsibility of keeping them at it until the patrolman had a heart attack or they were discovered by some puritanical pedestrian who would call Gillespie's superiors and turn him in. But the mood did not seem to pass immediately, even when the current was discontinued. Detweiller had half-expected them to revert immediately to their original roles and start hating each other again, but all they did, in fact, was come to their senses enough to get their clothes on, and then make plans to meet in Gloria's apartment for more of the same as soon as Gillespie got off duty. The patrolman was going to bring his wife, and both Gloria and Luke announced that they would love her as passionately as they loved Gillespie himself.
Detweiller wandered off, bemused. The PABWEM obviously had great potential for doing good in the world. Of course, there were a couple of channels he had not yet tested, but the defecation-modulation could be used to treat people with chronic constipation, and the intensive sexual desire wave length had a million uses, most of them beneficial to mankind. The young scientist envisioned himself showing up discreetly in court at a bitter divorce case and beaming the feuding couple with full power just as the judge was about to pronounce them no longer man and wife. Couples with marital problems could report to clinics once a week for therapeutic treatments and...
"Just stand back, buddy!" said a tough-looking security guard who seemed to have materialized out of nowhere. "Or you're gonna get in trouble!"
Detweiller looked up in amazement as the guard put a hand in the center of his chest and shoved, pushing him roughly backwards.
"What's ... what's happening?" he stammered, realizing that he had walked to the edge of the park and was standing in front of a large and impressive church. There were uniformed security guards scattered around the courtyard of the church and a large crowd of curious passersby behind a roped-off enclosure. Absentmindedly, Detweiller had been walking directly toward the steps of the church.
"Don't you read the papers?" snarled the guard nastily." Senator Bumble's daughter is marrying Leonard Fauntroy-Perkins. Now get yer ass outa here, okay?"
Irritated, Detweiller retreated behind the rope and waited with a group of photographers. He had never liked Senator Bumble's crooked politics and the Fauntroy-Perkins family had made all their money in the thirties by foreclosing mortgages on poor farmers and then made even more after the war by getting government subsidies in exchange for not growing whatever there happened to be an overabundance of at the moment. The evil genius in Detweiller slipped out and he covertly adjusted the control on the PABWEM for violently aggressive behavior just as Senator Bumble appeared at the church door with his daughter on one arm and the youthful heir to the Fauntroy-Perkins fortune on the other. The Senator was smiling broadly. So was his daughter. Fauntroy-Perkins was looking a trifle ill, since the former Miss Bumble was as ugly as napalm, but he needed the Senator's political protection and he was gamely going through with the marriage.
Craftily, Detweiller waited until the three dignitaries reached the center of the grassy clearing, followed by maids and matrons of honor as well as best and second-best men. Then he zapped them with violent aggressive behavior, full-power.
"On this happy and propitious day..." the Senator began his speech, stepping inadvertently on the hem of his daughter's two-thousand-dollar Pucci bridal gown.
"Get off my dress, you stupid old fart!" screamed the former Miss Bumble, flying inexplicably into a rage.
"Don't talk to me like that, you little slut!" the Senator flared. "If it weren't for me, you'd still be sodomizing with my chauffeur in the back seat of my Lincoln Continental!"
"Better your chauffeur than this rich faggot you had me married to!" the girl bellowed back, squaring off and doubling her fists. "God knows what he-likes to do in bed!"
"With you, baby, not a goddamned thing!" snarled the handsome bridegroom, slapping his new little wife smartly across the face.
With an agility surprising for a man of his years, the Senator skipped adroitly backwards and kicked his new son-in-law in the ass.
"You're finished, Fauntroy!" he screamed as the young man bit him furiously in the ankle. "I'm turning state's evidence and your whole family's going to jail for that soybean caper!"
"You'll never live to see it, you old baboon!" screeched the once and future Miss Bumble as she made earnest and nearly successful efforts to scratch her father's eyes out. "When the Grand Jury gets a load of what I know about your campaign finances..."
His soul at peace, Detweiller switched the PABWEM to distorted sexual desire and beamed it at the high-society minister who had performed the ceremony and His Honor the Mayor, both of whom were standing at the foot of the church steps watching with horror as Leonard Fauntroy-Perkins blackened both of his new wife's eyes before collapsing as his father-in-law throttled him into unconsciousness.
There was only one photographer who was not busy taking pictures of the Bumble-Fauntroy-Perkins carnage, and he later sold for fifty thousand the photograph of His Honor the Mayor passionately kissing the Right Reverend John Q. Stansworth of the Second International Church, catching the scene just as His Honor unzipped the Right Reverend's pants.
The batteries went dead, and Detweiller exited through the police lines with ease, the sound of ambulance sirens ringing in his ears.
It was all clear now. He was the king of the world. Nothing could stop him.
Susan Klemper was as good as laid!
CHAPTER FOUR
The phone in Doctor Susan Klemper's laboratory rang very insistently, and the female research scientist put down a recalcitrant glowworm and answered it, irritated that she should be disturbed in the midst of her labors.
"Doctor Klemper here!" she said crisply.
"Doctor ... I mean ... Susan..." came Detweiller's familiar stammer. "This is ... ah ... Det."
"Oh," said the girl, becoming a little anxious since her male colleague seemed more nervous than ever. "How are you feeling, Det? Better, I hope? Those glowworms are waiting, you know."
"That's what I called ... uh ... about," explained Detweiller haltingly. "I think I may have found the answer ... laying here in my bed of ... uh ... pain..."
"Oh, are you terribly sick?" the young brunette researcher asked, now genuinely concerned. The fact of the matter was that Doctor Susan Klemper liked her co-worker at the institute as much as she could like anything higher in the animal kingdom than a glowworm. She considered him her best friend and was delighted at the prospects of their working together on a project. Nor was Susan really frigid in the clinical sense, no matter what the maintenance men said behind her back. It was merely that she regarded sex as a biological function, like eating and sleeping, and it had never occurred to her that it could be as entertaining for a biologist as it seemed to be for a glowworm. Plus, she was a serious-minded girl, and serious-minded people have no time to indulge their animal instincts. Or at least that was how Susan felt about it.
"Oh, it's nothing, really," Detweiller said heroically. "I have a hyper-hydrated fibula in my left knee, and I have to stay off my feet for a few more days."
"Oh dear, that's terrible! And how are you managing? I mean with food and all that?"
"Oh ... uh ... no problem," Detweiller the long-suffering assured her. "I can still get around on my belly, and whenever I'm hungry, I just ... uh ... crawl into the kitchen and open ... well, there isn't much left to open, but ... uh ... I'll think of something. Now, about the glowworms..."
"Now Det, don't worry about the silly glowworms," Susan said firmly, realizing that she was going to have to help her poor tormented colleague in his agony. "I'll stop over there tonight after work and bring you some food, and we can talk about the glowworms then, okay?"
'Oh really, Susan ... I mean ... I couldn't ask you to ... I mean, coming to a man's apartment alone..."
"Now Det, don't be ridiculous!" she reprimanded him severely. "You just crawl right back to bed and stay there, understand?"
"Yes, Susan," said the scientist weakly, "whatever you say."
In fact, Susan Klemper knew perfectly well that Detweiller's lower animalistic emotions were very close to the surface, despite his massive intellect, and under normal circumstances, she would never have gone to his apartment since Det had a terrible tendency to lunge awkwardly in her direction whenever they were together. But this time, obviously, she would be safe. Why the poor man could barely move...
* * *
Detweiller replaced the telephone on the receiver and then leaped into the air, clicking his heels together three separate and distinct times before touching ground again.
For a few moments he was too elated to do anything more creative than pace excitedly back and forth, rub his hands together lasciviously and contemplate the sexual wonders which were soon to be his.
"Tonight, Doctor Klemper,' he announced to the empty room. "Tonight you will be mine!"
Dizzy with the notion of caressing her soft proud breasts or even he blushed at the thought running his hungry lips over the sparse delicate curls of her golden pussy, his eyes glowed with lewd anticipation. His penis flexed and hardened at the mere thought, but he reminded himself not to become too aroused just yet. There were still four or five hours before Susan's arrival, and he decided to occupy himself by checking to make sure that his technological tender trap was in order.
The living room was okay, basically clean but with a touch of bachelor disorder in the form of scientific books scattered carelessly around. Soft music waited on the record changer, ready to play and able to be activated by means of a hidden switch in his bedroom. And the bedroom, yes, that was the important place! Detweiller rushed in to check the PABWEM. This time there would be no problems with the batteries running down since he had adjusted the instrument to run off normal household current. The emitter was cleverly disguised behind a ventilation duct, aimed directly at the bed, and a hidden switch under the nightstand contained all the controls. And Susan would be expecting to find him in bed, so she would obviously have no hesitation in entering his bedroom. Everything was perfect, and...
The doorbell rang.
Detweiller froze in irritation. Could Susan have come early? No, he glanced at his watch and did a quick mental computation. She could not possibly have made it over here that fast, and it would be unlike Susan to change her plans. It would have to be someone else.
Unwilling to have his happiness disturbed by anyone but the lovely Doctor Klemper. Detweiller reluctantly opened the door. There was a girl standing before him, about seventeen years of age and carrying a satchel full of magazines.
"Good afternoon!" she said cheerfully. "My name is Marge, and I'm from the Universal Periodical Distribution Company. We have a very attractive offer to make you, Mr. Detweiller, and I know that once you've seen..."
Marge somehow managed to slip sideways past him into the apartment, accidentally brushing his chest with her taut young breasts as she passed him, and then began spreading magazines out on the floor. "You'll be signing a contract with Universal. Tell me, Mr. Detweiller, do you ever find yourself at a cocktail party talking with exciting and well-informed people and discover that you have nothing interesting to contribute to the conversation?"
"Uh ... well ... ah ... that is..." said Detweiller clearly, reduced as usual to bumbling idiocy whenever he found himself in the presence of an attractive woman. Marge was very young, possibly below the legal age of consent, but she was a very fetching teenager indeed. Her long soft blonde hair danced over her shoulders, and beneath the light cotton dress she was wearing, Detweiller's scientific powers of observation told him there was a saucy, foxy little body, high firm breasts, a long slender waist and buttocks it would take a poet to describe accurately.
"Of course it happens to the most intelligent people, Mr. Detweiller, and I can tell you that you certainly are a very intelligent person," the young salesgirl continued her recitation of what was obviously a memorized spiel, dropping to her knees as she spread out a variety of magazines on the rug before him.
"Now, on the special six month trial offer, Mr. Detweiller, we can provide you with the kind of lively, up-to-date magazine which is guaranteed to transform you into a sparkling conversationalist! For example, here's the American Legion Magazine, Atlantic, Harper's, National Geographic, New Yorker, Dairy Goat Journal, Rotarian...."
Detweiller looked at her knees, protruding temptingly beneath her dress as she knelt on the floor before him, displaying her magazines. He wrestled with his conscience. Marge's legs were smooth and tanned, long and athletic. Detweiller wondered if she were a virgin. He struggled with his conscience some more.
" ... Plus, there's House Beautiful, Ebony, Reader's Digest, Sexology, Hi-Fi and Stereo Review, Opera News, Ingenue, and American Gospel Appeal!"
She leaned forward to point to a particularly attractive photograph on the cover of Arizona Highways, and Detweiller lasciviously took the opportunity to look down the front of her dress. Her breasts looked medium in size and exceedingly well-rounded. She was wearing a pink lace brassiere which just covered the tiny points of her rosy little nipples Detweiller assumed they were rosy and the scientist felt himself losing the battle with his conscience. It had not been much of a battle.
"And of course we have also some men's magazines like Adventure, Argosy, Cavalier, The Reckless Climax, Monthly Nudist Bulletin, Fling, For Men Only, and Super-Lust," she added nonchalantly, shifting her position on the floor so that her skirt crept unconsciously higher on her tantalizing thighs. Detweiller's conscience threw its hands up and surrendered.
"Uh ... yes ... well I'm sure that ... " he stumbled, trying desperately to think of a way to get her into the bedroom where he could destroy her adolescent morals with electronic brain waves. "I'd like some magazines ... yes ... ah ... lots of magazines ... I was just thinking the other day that what I needed was ten or twenty subscriptions ... so that I'd ... ah ... be more interesting at cocktail parties ... now ... if you'll just bring your order book into my office, I'll write you a check..."
The girl followed him dubiously into his bedroom, looking around her warily. Selling magazines was a tough racket for a girl, and she had learned that selling to a bachelor was tougher than usual.
"This doesn't look much like an office," she said suspiciously, looking pointedly at Detweiller's double bed.
"Oh, it's where I do all my ... uh ... best work," explained the scientist feverishly as he ducked in front of the nightstand and quickly activated the PABWEM under the pretense of looking for his checkbook.
"Mr. Detweiller, I think it is only fair to warn you that I have a police whistle in my hand, and I'm a certified brown-belt karate expert," she told him seriously, the false sophisticated smile disappearing as she acutely recognized the early signs of lust in her customer's erratic behavior. Besides the fact that he was breathing heavily, there was a significant bulge in the front of his pants, and Marge knew precisely what that was likely to mean.
"Why ... of course ... uh..."
"Ah, which magazines did you want, exactly?" she inquired pointedly, wanting to complete this sale and get out. This tall skinny man did not look particularly menacing, but for some reason she was suddenly feeling very strange. There was a burning sensation gnawing at her belly, and the soft flesh of her inner thighs, and her nipples seemed to have gotten inexplicably hard and were rubbing maddeningly against the inside of her brassiere.
"Ah ... lots and lots of magazines," muttered Detweiller, thanking his lucky stars that the girl had inadvertently positioned herself directly in the path of the electronic beams. There was a faint layer of perspiration forming on her upper lip, and her hands were twitching strangely.
It's working! Det told himself jubilantly. It's knocking her off her feet!
"Good heavens! I feel very . . .very strange, Mr. Detweiller," Marge complained, suddenly finding her mind invaded by a swarm of lewd and obscene sexual fantasies. What was happening to her? "I wonder if I could sit down a moment."
"Why, you do look faint," said the scientist with an air of great concern as he walked across the room and took her elbow respectfully. "Just sit on the edge of the bed for a moment."
The girl sat down heavily, her tender young breasts jiggling as she moved, and she did not become alarmed when Detweiller sat down next to her and took her hand. In fact, in Marge's eyes, the tall gangling scientist seemed to have changed dramatically in the past few seconds. Before, he had been just a potential customer, someone to sell magazines to, but now he had become an intensely attractive male, bubbling with wanton animal sensuality. Marge was not exactly a virgin, having been inexpertly perforated two months before by a pimply teenager named Ralph in the back seat of his father's Chevrolet, but she was hardly a woman of the world, either, and this sudden wave of violent desire was a new and uncomfortable sensation for her.
"I feel so hot," she said in a tiny voice, barely conscious of the fact that Detweiller was not writing a check for her magazines but was in fact affectionately stroking her long blonde hair.
"It is warm in here," purred Detweiller in her ear, "and speaking as a professional biologist, I would say that your garments are restricting your pulmonary action which is reducing the flow of glucose to your cerebellum which is making you feel faint."
"Oh ... " Marge was not sure why the reduced flow of glucose to her cerebellum should be filling her mind with the most obscene thoughts in the world, but her brassiere did seem to be unusually tight, particularly since her breasts appeared to be expanding in some mysterious way.
"Ah ... let me loosen your blouse, my dear," offered Detweiller in his most fatherly fashion, and the girl leaned back to let him do it, knowing that something very strange was happening, but unable to understand precisely what it was. She suddenly found herself possessed of an enormous desire to be naked, stark naked, and let the soft breezes cool her fevered body. Detweiller unbuttoned her dress to the waist, pushing the frail cotton back over her trembling shoulders. His hands seemed cool and dry, and Marge took a deep breath of pleasure every time he touched her.
"My bra..." she gasped desperately, slowly losing what little remained of her self-control, but lighting hard to fix the thought in her brain that she was here to sell magazines. At all costs! "My bra is killing me!"
"That's not a problem, my dear," Detweiller assured her. "We'll simply remove it."
"If you don't mind," she stammered unhappily as she leaned forward to permit him to unfasten her garment. His fingers were smooth and deft, and her chest tingled with pleasure as he moved his hands around to either side of her rib cage, softly caressing her swollen breasts as he lifted the skimpy pink brassiere away from her skin.
"That's better," Marge groaned, falling back on the bed and wishing that Detweiller would continue undressing her without forcing her into the humiliation of asking.
But the scientist seemed to understand instinctively what her problem was, so she raised her hips willingly, even eagerly, to allow him to slip her dress and pink panties down over the sleekly tempting curve of her thighs. Detweiller threw her dress on the floor as she kicked off her sandals and stretched out before him, spread-eagled and naked, defenseless and totally happy.
"It's very strange," she muttered, wishing her mind were not so cluttered with obscene fantasies. "We hardly know each other, and ... here I am completely undressed on your bed, and I'm not embarrassed at all."
Detweiller found it difficult to think of anything to say at the moment. Naturally, the same erotic mind waves which had destroyed Marge's will to resist were swarming through his own brain cells, rousing him to a fever-pitch of burning physical desire, but Detweiller had passed so much of his life burning with desire that he was accustomed to the sensation. Jubilantly, he surveyed the high-breasted young body which was shortly to be his plaything.
The girl was a young Venus, a marble Greek goddess turned into soft warm female flesh, and the man's eyes glowed with intense lust as he studied the high-set, widely-spaced mounds of her breasts, each tipped with a turgid brown nipple, swollen to the maximum by her machine-induced desire. Below, her stomach was flat and smooth, and then her love-stricken body expanded into full rich womanly thighs. Her pussy-hair was blonde, only a tiny bit darker than the golden hair on her head, and the softly quivering flesh between her unconsciously spread thighs was already moist and flowing with the sweet liquors of sexual arousal.
She's ready to be fucked, Detweiller assured himself, observing with lust-dilated eyes that the tempting pink lips of her cunt were already flushed with blood and spread temptingly open, ready for the inevitable invasion.
"It feels so good to be naked," Marge panted as Detweiller's hands roamed obscenely over the softly rising mounds of her breasts, teasing each tiny nipple into an insane attempt to grow even harder and fuller. "Why ... I'm going crazy or something ... why don't you get undressed too?"
"Certainly, my dear," Detweiller reassured her with a warm kindly tone of voice.
"You are going to buy lots of magazines, aren't you?" she managed to recall that her original purpose in coming here had been connected with the sale of periodicals.
"My family fortune," Detweiller promised solemnly, "is going to the Universal Periodical Distribution Company."
The girl's sumptuous right breast struck his imagine at that moment, and he leaned over hungrily to suck it, his cheeks billowing out as he swiped the tiny little bud lustily with his tongue. "How did that feel?" he inquired lasciviously, trying to test her.
"Oh ... I know this is all sinful, Mr. Detweiller," the girl stammered, her confused mind thrashing back and forth between her girlish conscience and her womanly sexual needs, now so powerful and so demanding. "But it felt ... real good. Do it some more, okay?"
"Of course, little one," Detweiller said accommodatingly, and he commenced to suck her neglected left breast, quickly bringing it to the same state of pulsating rigidity and turgidness.
But Detweiller reminded himself that it was time to get serious and find out precisely how powerful was the effect of his intensive sexual desire beams. It was obvious that the bewildered blonde was feeling exceptionally lusty, and she did not look like the kind of girl who jumped out of her clothing at the first invitation. Detweiller was hardly an expert in such things, given his own lack of experience, but Marge's moistly throbbing little pussy looked tight and almost unused. Perfect for the purposes of his experiment! Banging some tired old whore who put out for anything in pants was hardly much proof of the effectiveness of his invention. This girl was precisely what he needed, and if he could conquer her completely, dominate and subdue her, then he was ready for Doctor Susan Klemper. But his conquest had to be total, so Detweiller decided to go to work.
Feverishly, the scientist divested himself of his clothing, allowing his pants and shirt to fall in a heap on the floor next to the bed, and the magazine girl gasped with some imprecise emotion as her widened eyes took in the true dimensions of his blood-engorged penis, now fully erected and throbbing with intense desire. For a moment, Detweiller feared that she was about to protest, to object that no teenage girl with limited experience could be expected to negotiate with that battering ram, but Marge merely closed her eyes with a sigh of what sounded like slavish resignation and turned her head away.
Moving slowly, the way he customarily did with a timid laboratory animal before an important experiment, Detweiller allowed his hand to drift down from the girl's softly sensuous young breasts, trailing lasciviously across the flat smoothness of her trembling stomach and coming to rest on the light blonde "vee" of her pubic triangle. She groaned slightly, her eyes still closed, but there was no sign of protest.
Marge's body quivered as Detweiller's hungry fingers began to work their way into the soft damp hairs which concealed the entrance to the mysteries of her loins, but she did not protest or try to turn away. Slowly and sensually, the scientist fingered the tiny jewel of her clitoris, feeling the miniature bud of flesh come alive beneath his lewd caress.
Detweiller smiled sadistically to himself, feeling a new mood of self-confidence and boldness sweeping over him as he saw that the PABWEM was doing its work. With the aid of that gadget and a few volts of electricity, no woman in the world was safe from him now. He could have any of Europe's princesses, or all of Hollywood's stars and just about any other woman he cared to tackle. But for the moment, little Marge was going to be just fine. She was perfect for sharpening up his technique, and in fact, Detweiller's technique was seriously in need of refinement, since in his pre-PABWEM days, he could count his sexual victories on some of the fingers of one hand.
He expected her to cringe away from him in fear or disgust as he pressed his trembling fingers into the satin-like softness of her waiting pussy, but instead Marge merely groaned and began to caress her breasts by herself, and Detweiller felt a shudder of happy lust sweeping over him as his delighted fingers stroked the soft moist flanges of her vagina. Her legs splayed out indecently, presenting him with a blissful vision of total white-fleshed nakedness, a jungle of sensual hills and tempting valleys for him to explore.
"Oh, Mr. Detweiller," the girl gasped, her mind reeling under the violent impact of several thousand volts of magnified, amplified and intensified lust. "What's happening to me? Why do I feel this way?"
"It's chemistry, Marge," he explained throatily. "Obviously we were right for each other, and our bodies knew it the moment you walked in with all those National Geographies. "
This explanation seemed to satisfy the passion-crazed teenager, and a faint croon of happiness broke from her parted lips as an emboldened Detweiller pressed his middle finger lewdly up into the tender adolescent sanctuary of her cunt, stroking in and out of the moistly quivering walls of her womanhood until she looked as though she were about to lose her mind.
"Oh God! It's scary," she muttered hazily, trying to focus her eyes. "I've never felt like this before ... I can't understand it ... I feel so strange as if there's a big hollow inside of me, and I've got to get it filled, no matter what."
There is a hollow inside of you, my chickadee, thought Detweiller licentiously. It's not very big, which is okay with me, and rest assured that it will be filled very shortly.
Marge writhed licentiously on the bed, her hands roaming over Detweiller's naked chest as if she were seeking protection. Rational thought was becoming difficult now, and she tried to concentrate on some fixed point in the room as a way of fighting back the waves of overpowering physical desire which were sweeping insistantly over her electronically prostrated young body. But it was no use! Her soft young breasts now felt swollen to almost double their normal size, and her tight brown nipples were throbbing with rampant lust. Worse still, up between her legs a fire seemed to be raging out of control, and she rubbed her thighs together in a desperate attempt to ease the incredible sensation Detweiller's busy middle finger was arousing in her. This proved to be useless. The fire raged on.
Detweiller bent down and kissed her full on the mouth, feeling her ardent young lips part instinctively and her tongue come spearing hotly into his mouth as she arched her back to thrust the tiny pebbles of her breasts up against his chest. Her passion was so obvious, so naked and so helpless that it began to ignite his own, and Detweiller kept asking himself if this were merely another one of his wretched erotic dreams. Would he awaken in a moment to the sound of an alarm clock, feeling the throb of a hangover in the back of his neck?
No, this was real, and to prove it to himself, he mounted the girl, loving her for the way her finely tapered legs scissored automatically apart to grant him access to the moist tender mysteries of her loins. She was quivering helplessly out of control beneath him now and his cock seemed to be jerking up and down spasmodically as the scarlet glans brushed erotically across the warmly welcoming flesh of her vaginal lips. For a moment, he toyed with the temptation of taking her right then and there, of quickly and brutally ramming his hardened rod of flesh far up into the depths of her freely-offered femininity, but something in the back of the scientist's mind held him back.
No, this was meant to be an experiment. The real thing would happen when Susan arrived, but this was merely a trial run. He had to experiment further, to find out precisely how far one could go with a girl under the influence of lust-modulated amplified brain waves. Was there anything she would deny him in the state she was in? Or were there limits? He had to find out!
One thing was perfectly clear: She needed it now and she needed it badly. As he poised over her, planning his next move, Marge's hand snaked down between their two tensed bodies and her fingers closed desperately over the long, desire-enlarged shaft of her cock. Slowly, she began tugging on him, pulling him desperately toward her open cuntal passage, and blushing with shame as she revealed precisely how powerful her need had become.
That settles it, thought Detweiller, feeling her thumb and forefinger tighten around the tip of his throbbing instrument, torturously pushing back the foieskin to bare the scarlet glans. First we play a little! The Universal Periodical Distribution Company won't mind.
Marge lay restlessly on her back, little sighs and sobs of wanton desire escaping from her throat as she watched the long, lanky figure of the scientist hovering menacingly over her. Every few minutes a sane thought or two would penetrate the mist and haze floating inside her brain and she would ask herself what on earth she was doing here. Who was this man and why was she letting him make love to her? And his penis was too large! He would split her in two!
And then the lust would intensify, and rational thought became impossible as she faded off again into a never-never land of mindless sensuality where logic did not exist and reason did not matter. What difference did it make who he was or why she was stretched out naked and spread-eagled beneath him on his bed. He was a male, the most massively masculine male she had ever seen or dreamed of, and she wanted his long thick cock up inside her! Now!
But strangely, the man was delaying. The long tawny body of the potential customer named Detweiller was in motion now, moving lasciviously up over her outstretched form with that impossibly long cock leaving a wet trail across her fluttering stomach. What did he want? Why wasn't he coming inside her? Didn't he know how badly she needed him there?
"Please ... please ... I'm so ashamed..." she muttered. "Could you fuck me, please, Mr. Detweiller?"
"All in good time, my dear," the calculating scientist assured her, kneeling up over her like a tower with his lust-heavy cock waving obscenely in her face. "But first we have to run through the repertoire, don't we?"
Marge had no idea what he was talking about, her eyes trained on his mind-boggling sexual equipment like a bird mesmerized by a viper. The man's testicles were absolutely enormous, hanging beneath the cannon-like shaft of his penis like two baseballs. Involuntarily giving way to an indecent urge, the panting blonde teenager reached out hesitantly and cupped them with her trembling hands, feeling the weight of the sperm churning hotly inside as Detweiller inched even closer, bringing his loins up so that the flushed red tip of his cock was dangling only inches from her open mouth.
He moved closer and the lust-shattered girl found herself unable to take her eyes off his wavering member as it neared her frozen face. A struggle broke lose within her mind as the last vestiges of sanity fought with the overpowering desire which was throbbing rampantly through her system. She found herself wanting desperately to do something she had never dreamed of doing to a man, and the idea compelled and revolted her at the same time. What if she were to lean forward and ... and take that awesome cock between her lips...
Detweiller seemed to be waiting for something now, and Marge glanced timidly up at his face, hoping to find a message there, some instructions, anything! But all she could read on his features was lust, and the desire to dominate her. The rest was up to her. He was waiting.
With a muffled sigh of abandon, the girl's blonde head darted forward and she planted a warm moist kiss on the blunt bulbous tip of his glans. Then she let her head fall back on the pillow as if she had been exhausted by this one overwhelming effort.
Detweiller's mind spun with delirium as the lurid sensation of her heated lips echoed through his entire body. It had been one thing to be blown by Rosa, who was a professional prostitute and had performed the same vile act on thousands of customers before him. But this girl was different. She was young and chaste and her mouth was surely virginal. This wasn't something she did every day to earn her living. If she went ahead and did it, it would prove that she was completely out of her mind with lust, hopelessly consumed with electronically-inspired sexual desire.
He looked down on her full sensuous lips, wet and moist as her tongue flickered temptingly around the edges of her mouth, and knew that he had to have her there. It made no difference at all if a lightning bolt struck them both dead an instant after it was all over. For the moment, he wanted this more than anything else in the world. And it was obvious that she wanted it as badly as he did!
He adjusted his position a little so that his buttocks were resting lightly on the full sensual swell of her breasts and his knees were placed on either side of her neck. His testicles, filled to the brim with hot thick semen, rested obscenely against the tip of her chin. She was under a spell, he knew, and spells were spells whether or not they were electronically induced, so he moved carefully like a man trying to capture a frightened forest animal. One false move might destroy the mood he had so carefully created, and he fought back the temptation to seize her by the head and drive his crazily palpitating cock straight down her throat whether she liked it or not. No, it was essential that this be voluntary. She must do it to herself.
There was a moment of silence, and Detweiller could feel the soft breeze created by the young salesgirl's breath as she panted lustily beneath him, apparently gathering strength for the critical moment. Then suddenly her lips fell open and she raised her head slightly from the pillow, just enough so that the gleaming tip of Detweiller's penis penetrated inside of her warm sensuous mouth. The action took him almost by surprise and the scientist gasped for breath as he saw the tightly rounded oval of her lips closing lovingly around the aching hardness of his penile shaft.
Marge had never done this before, but she had read articles on the subject and she knew what was expected of her. Despite the fact that her mind was not functioning too well at the moment, her instincts were true and she began swiping the hardened flesh of his cock with her tongue, teasing and biting him lightly as she sucked his pulsing thickness even farther into her mouth. Detweiller sighed happily, feeling the tingling sensation spread from the tip of his ecstatic penis up through his loins to the rest of his body. If only Susan could see me now! He thought lasciviously, pushing his cock a little deeper into Marge's willing mouth.
* * *
Doctor Susan Klemper was proud of her scientific attitude, but for some reason this afternoon, she could not concentrate on her glowworms and several times she fnund herself wandering over to a mirror which hung discreetly behind the laboratory door to gaze at herself with distaste, wishing she had been to a beauty parlor recently.
"What's getting into me?" she wondered aloud, as if one of her glowworms might sit up in his cage and explain what the cause of her restlessness was. The truth of the matter was that she missed having Detweiller around. Of course whenever they were together, she abused him, scorned his attempts to take her out on dates and complained about the mess his monkeys were making. But then on the other hand ... he was the only man in her life. Her intelligence and strong-mindedness scared most men off after a few tries, and only her bumbling co-worker kept on asking her to go out with him.
The next time he asks me, I'll say yes, just for the heck of it, she promised herself. He is such a smart man and not bad-looking really, if he only wouldn't bump into things all the time. And he's so ... so wishy-washy! like Charlie Brown in those comic strips, but all grown up and working in a scientific laboratory, he always assumes I'm going to say no even before he asks me and he mutters and stammers and looks at his feet. If only he were more forceful, more dominating!
How can any girl fall in love with a man who lets himself be pushed around by a third-rate scientist like Professor Martin?
Susan glanced at the laboratory clock, seeing that it was only three-thirty and the laboratory was not due to close for another hour and a half. And in the meantime, poor Det was lying in bed, perhaps writhing in agony or slowly starving to death! Surely this qualified as an emergency?
Without delaying another instant, Doctor Klemper patted her smooth brown hair into place before the mirror and applied some light pink lipstick. Surely in his bed of pain, Det would appreciate seeing her a little more attractive than she normally was around the office. Susan had learned early in life that if she wanted to go about her business undisturbed by panting males, she had to dress down, covering the sensuous curves of her supple voluptuous body with grim formless business suits, and going without make-up helped uglify her as well. But poor Det was helpless with his knee so there was no particular reason to hold back today. Daringly, she opened the top button on her blouse, exposing just a hint of the tempting white valley between her breasts.
She shopped methodically in a nearby supermarket, stuffing nourishing foods into her cart, but really thinking hard about her future. Last Saturday night at Mom's, the "get-married" propaganda had been laid on pretty heavily, so much so that Susan was beginning to feel guilty about denying her parents the pleasure of having grandchildren. All right, suppose she decided to get married, who would it be? Most men rather frightened her with their burning desires, grabbing her roughly or backing her into a corner the way Professor Martin always did, and covertly trying to get their hands on her lust-provoking young body. Detweiller's eyes burned as brightly as anyone's but he did not scare her particularly and when he grabbed he normally miscalculated the distance and missed. Should she marry Det?
She thought it over. It meant, of course, going to bed with him, unless she could convince him to give her grandparents a child by means of artificial insemination. Susan was not adverse to the idea of sex as a general biological theory, but somehow she had never quite found a man she really wanted to do it with. Detweiller would be all right, she supposed, but she was always waiting for him to take the initiative, and he never exactly did, with that damnable shyness of his. If he would just grab her someday and do it, then maybe she would like it. Who could tell? Det's monkeys did it from morning to night, and even her glowworms seemed to get a kick out of it, lighting up like mad whenever they had an orgasm.
She had never been to Detweiller's apartment before, naturally, but she had the address written on a piece of paper and she found the place easily enough and lugged the groceries up two flights of stairs until she located the door to his apartment. It was open, and with a sigh of relief, she pushed her way in, and set the groceries on the studio couch.
There was a moan, a long low meaningful moan from the direction of Det's bedroom and for a moment, Susan felt her flesh crawl. He's really sick, she told herself, feeling guilty for having wasted most of the day at the laboratory instead of rushing over here immediately. Well, she was here now and as a trained biologist, she was certainly qualified to decide whether or not he needed to be taken to the hospital. She took off her jacket and walked towards the bedroom door, feeling like Florence Nightingale marching toward the front.
And then she saw the battlefield!
Detweiller was lying flat on his back and since he was stark naked, Susan could see both of his knees and her powers of scientific observation informed her immediately that there was nothing particularly wrong with either one of them. What she could not see, on the other hand was his genital equipment, since Det's long rigid cock was buried obscenely in the willing young cunt of the blonde-haired teenager who was sitting astride his loins and riding him like a horse.
"Oh yeah ... yeah ... fuck it like that!" Susan heard the girl mutter thickly as she lifted the tawny half-moons of her buttocks up in the air, revealing for a second to the scientist's astonished eyes the glistening shaft of the man's enormous cock.
Rage boiled through Susan's brain like molten lava, and for a moment the lewdly depraved scene before her went red as if somehow a crimson filter had been placed before her eyes. So he was sick, was he? Lying in his bed of pain! He was a dirty filthy, monstrous lecher and that girl could not be a day over seventeen, which meant that besides being a pervert and an obscene bastard, he was also a criminal, since the state age of consent was eighteen.
For an instant, Susan had almost decided to turn on her heel and march out of this disgusting den of vice and sin, but she realized that both her colleague and his teenage companion were far too involved in screwing each other silly to have noticed her presence. Detweiller's glazed eyes seemed to be focused fixedly upon the girl's high-set little breasts which jiggled provocatively as she writhed and gyrated on the impaling rod of flesh skewering deep into her cruelly stretched young vagina. Both of them were covered with a light Filmy layer of perspiration which hinted that they had been at this lewd game for sometime now. And worst of all ... the lady scientist strained her eyes ... on the girl's rosy lips there were traces of a sticky white substance which could only be ... one thing! Detweiller had not contented himself with ravaging the tender young pussy of this helpless adolescent, he had violated her mouth as well! This was too much!
For a few minutes, Susan contemplated calling the police and placing a complaint against her co-worker for statutory rape, but then she thought better of it, wanting to preserve the good name and dignity of the Hudson Valley Research Institute. In a few days the Board of Trustees would be making their annual tour of the laboratories to assess the year's work and it would be disastrous if their leading scientist were in jail awaiting trial on charges of indecently assaulting a girl below the legal age of consent. No, she would wait until they were finished, and then she would dismiss the girl and have a long serious talk with Detweiller, trying to make him see that he was a sexual monster who was not fit to associate with decent people. He must go away, resign his post quietly, and consider isolating himself in some way from the world.
But no, there was something about that solution to the problem which struck her as wrong. Susan was a scientist, accustomed to looking at things logically and it suddenly occurred to her with a horrifying shock that she might be just a tiny bit jealous! In point of the fact, Detweiller had done nothing to her at all. He was not even expecting her to arrive until after six o'clock. He was, however, doing something very wrong to this fragile young girl, this poor violated adolescent, this ravished child...
"Aaaaggghhhh!! ! ! " groaned Marge, the poor ravished child, now half out of her mind with anguished lust. "I'm cummmming!" Agaaaiiiin! How gooood!"
Susan's eyes bulged as she watched the sleek lithe body seem to rise up off the bed as the orgasm ripped inexorably through her inexperienced nervous system and the lady scientist found herself biting her lip with resentment.
Okay, he isn't doing her any harm either, Susan admitted. He's driving her slowly nuts, but she's loving every moment of it. . .
She stopped, realizing that she was panting wildly, almost audibly, and was unable to decide whether it was passion or anger which was upsetting her so. She had no legitimate cause to be outraged at Det. He had made it quite clear in the past that she was the girl he wanted and she had always spurned him. So he had found himself another chick, and whose fault was that? He was a normal man who needed some healthy affection.
A tear made its way across the softness of Susan's cheek. Would they fall in love? Would Det forget about her forever, now that he had found this teenage whirlwind who could make him happy? She knew she should leave, gather up her groceries and drive around, coming back when the place was cleaned up and she was expected, but somehow she could not quite make herself move from her concealed position behind the half-closed bedroom door. She was miserable!
Detweiller, on the other hand, was feeling no pain whatsoever. Covertly glancing at his watch, he noted that the afternoon was waning and that Marge was only supposed to be a trial run before the big test, which would start as soon as Susan walked in the door. He also realized that it was probably not a good idea to tire himself out too much before the girl of his dreams arrived, but the PABWEM seemed to give both male and female untiring sexual energy. He had already cum three times and he had lost count of Marge's orgasms, since she seemed to float from one to the next with hardly a break in between. They had done just about everything two people could do to each other on a reliable mattress. He had taken her lasciviously in the mouth, watching with amazement as she greedily gulped his white-hot sperm, and they had worked their way through all of the lewd positions he could think of. And each time she went sailing off into one of her mind-bending orgasms, the tight velvety walls of her hardly-used little cunt seemed to clamp down on his sensitized cock with the most heavy pressure he could imagine.
He had to have it one more time. In the missionary position, just for old time's sake, and then he would buy some magazine subscriptions, get her telephone number for future reference and send her on her merry way. Powerfully, he rolled the girl over onto her back without pulling his penis from the desperate clasp of her cunt, knelt up over her and took his elongated cock in his hands. It was still super-hardened, despite his three orgasms and he knew that this exceptional firmness was due to the electronic stimulation being beamed at him by his loyal PABWEM. Better living through chemistry.
"Oh fuck me some more, Det!" Marge cried deliriously. "I can't get enough of it. Fuck me anywhere you want, but do it to me now, before I go mad!" Her body arched lasciviously towards him, her legs spraying apart with the plainest invitation Detweiller could ever recall receiving and for a moment the scientist imagined the joy which would soon be his when his beloved Susan raised her adorably voluptuous body to him in this same fashion and pleaded with him to fuck her anywhere he wanted. And it was going to happen within a matter of hours!
"Okay, kid," he grinned down at her lewdly. "One more for the road."
There was no longer any need to work his way painfully into the raving blonde teenager's passion-inflamed vagina, since Detweiller had fucked her so hard and so long that her cunt was open and visibly palpitating. He dawdled a moment, using the bulging scarlet head of his penis to part the sparse blonde hair of her pussy and then without a moment more of hesitation, he rammed his tireless penis all the way home. There was no longer the slightest resistance, since the inside of the girl's lustfully trembling cunt was smooth and well lubricated, and she clasped him with the tantalizing interior walls of her vagina, wrapping her long slender legs automatically up around his back.
"Come on, baby," she urged him obscenely. "Fuck me till I cum again. GO!"
Detweiller went. She was moaning and singing as he plunged it into her even deeper, feeling the blunt turgid glans of his cock bulldoze recklessly against the softness of her cervix, and her body was jerking and twitching with wild abandoned desire. The man could feel her rigid little nipples digging into his chest like buttons on a coat as she thrust herself against him, stricken by an overwhelming sexual hunger which could not be satisfied as long as her brain was being radiated with lust-modulated instructions.
With all the immense power in his long lean body, Detweiller screwed down into the young girl's open loins, the momentum for each powerful lunge coming all the way from the tips of his toes. His massively expanded cock skewered savagely up between her jackknifed legs, again and again, each time bringing a fresh cry of animal desire to her moist red lips. Her nostrils flared wide and her eyes seemed to be staring blindly at the ceiling as if she were no longer capable of focusing on anything.
Susan watched, her own brown eyes glazed with a confusing mixture of conflicting emotions. What was this strange feeling she had in her stomach? Could it possibly be that this lewd unnatural scene of animal rutting was having an effect on her? Her eyes narrowed as she realized that the two of them were going to cum again, simultaneously and suddenly the female scientist found herself wishing half in a daydream, that it was her body buried between Detweiller's massive frame, her cunt being fucked into happy oblivion.
"Oh, I'm cumming..." squealed Marge, her face tightening into a mask of undisguised ecstasy as she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. Detweiller was cumming too, and Susan leaned forward to see it all, watching as her colleague's muscles stiffened and the spasm took possession of his body. It was difficult to see properly from where she was standing, and to get a better view, Susan stepped up on a chair, supporting herself on the half-opened door....
Detweiller had been planning to fix that chair ever since the Winter of 1969 when he had first noticed that the back legs were weak, but somehow he had never gotten around to it. His brown-haired co-worker was not a particularly heavy woman, but her weight was more than the back legs could bear. Just as she was in the act of straightening up and Detweiller was in the middle of ejaculating wildly into Marge's upturned pink cunt, the back legs gave up the ghost and crumbled. Susan suppressed a girlish cry of fright, but the law of gravity had its inexorable effect and she crashed against the door, knocking it wide open and tumbling onto the bedroom floor.
The naked scientist looked quickly over his shoulder and observed Susan Klemper sprawling on the floor on her face and got the message quickly that perhaps everything was not going to work out as smoothly as he had planned. Marge paid no attention to the interruption if she was even aware of it showing every sign that she intended to go on fucking until she dropped. His mind moving quickly, Detweiller correctly surmised that he had a crisis situation on his hands and that everyone's mind would work better without electronic lust. Susan was getting to her feet as he slipped his hand quickly into the drawer of the night stand and deactivated the PABWEM.
"You filthy skunk!" he heard Susan screaming behind him and beneath him Marge's body slowly relaxed enough for him to draw his gradually deflating penis from her ravaged little cunt.
"You sex maniac! You criminal!" Susan continued at the top of her lungs. Det grunted unintelligibly and rolled off the dazed young magazine salesgirl who continued to lie sprawled nakedly on the sweat-soaked bed, too far gone to bother even closing her legs.
"No, Susan," he stumbled, covering his loins with a pillow. "I can explain everything ... this is an old friend of mine..."
"What happened to me?" said Marge as she came out of the PABWEM daze. She raised herself up on her elbows and looked around uncomprehendingly. "I can't understand ... it seems like a dream..."
"You drugged her!" spat Susan, now in a towering rage. "You fed this poor innocent child some vicious drug and then abused her sexually. I can see it all now!"
"No ... I didn't drug her."
"I can't understand it, Mr. Detweiller," said Marge in the same dreamy voice. "I never saw you before and then all of a sudden ... I was naked and you were on top of me..."
"So you didn't drug her?" accused Susan triumphantly as she marched over to Marge's side of the bed, took the girl's head in her hands and examined her eyes. "Her pupils are dilated and you say she hasn't been drugged."
"If you just got through cumming thirteen times, your eyeballs would be dilated too," pointed out the scientist, correctly guessing that his female colleague was out of her mind with jealousy and resentment. Of course she had a right to be upset. She was expecting to find him in bed, sick, and it was obvious that he had lied to her. And how wrong everything was going all of a sudden. What could he do? Susan hated him, and before long she was going to have Marge convinced that he'd drugged her and then ravished her. It was even possible that the two of them would go to the police! Detweiller remembered having read somewhere something about hell having no fury like a woman scorned, and now he was seeing it before his very own eyes.
"Did he hurt you, my dear?" Susan was bending solicitously over the naked Marge, taking her pulse.
"I feel so strange," the girl moaned, shaking her head as the tears began to fall. Detweiller put all his strength into thinking. If he let Susan walk out that door, it was unlikely that he would ever be able to think of anything brilliant enough to make her walk back in again. He had to act now! But what?
The PABWEM? The idea was bizarre, but he quickly realized that it was the only way out. He could reactive the PABWEM and blast both women with high-powered sexual desire. He would then have to fuck Susan in front of Marge, and perhaps Marge in front of Susan, which was not an ideal solution, but possibly it was the only chance he had.
Letting his hand drift down behind him and hoping desperately that Susan would not see that he was fiddling with a hidden control panel, Detweiller let his fingers roam over the instrument in a frantic search for the proper setting. Was intense sexual desire the third or the second position? He shook his head, trying to remember and decided that it had to be the third. The bedroom lights dimmed imperceptibly as the machine started to suck power and the scientist turned the PABWEM on high, flooding the room with electrons.
As soon as the machine was operating, he got to his feet, still holding the pillow modestly over his loins and made for the door. He would give his own brain a relief from the radiations by getting out of the room for a minute while he planned his strategy. In the meantime, the two women would be getting the full treatment and by the time he was ready for them, they would be ready for him, both of them rendered absolutely helpless by the power of the PABWEM. He was not defeated yet!
Susan looked up startled as Detweiller bolted from the room, wondering what she ought to do now. The girl may or may not have been drugged, but she was not really in any danger since her heart was already slowing down to normal and her eyes had lost their dreamy gaze. And she is a beautiful girl, thought the female scientist, brushing some lint out of Marge's long silken hair. No wonder Det wanted to make love to her.
"Are you feeling better, dear?" she asked in a kindly tone of voice. "My name is Susan."
Marge looked up, her brain once again reeling under the fresh onslaught of hyper-powered electronic waves from Detweiller's PABWEM.
"I was feeling normal for a moment there," she confessed, "but when Det left the room, I ... I started feeling all funny again."
"In what way, exactly?" questioned Susan, who was beginning to notice that she too was feeling distinctly on the funny side. There was a tiny feathery sensation which seemed to be tickling its way up and down her backbone and she was suddenly conscious of an irrepressible heat between her thighs. She looked down at Marge's perky young body and observed that the teenage girl seemed to be suffering from the same disturbing symptoms since her long slender legs were twitching restlessly.
"Well, when I first walked into the bedroom," Marge explained, the words tumbling rapidly from her lips, "I was suddenly ... well, struck by this incredible urge to make love to a man, to Mr. Detweiller."
"And you want to again, is that it?" asked Susan sadly, fearing that the answer was going to be yes.
"No!" the magazine girl groaned, shaking her head wildly. "Right now the idea of sleeping with a man disgusts me, but I'm having these funny sensations anyway ... and my breasts feel so hot and tingly..."
Susan looked down at Marge's widely-spaced young breasts and verified that it was all true. The girl's tender nipples were once again turgid and distended as if begging to be caressed. Absentmindedly, the lady scientist took one firm little breast in her hand, feeling the girl's nipple tighten under her palm as she stroked it gently, thinking how pleasant a woman's body could be...
"You're so good to take care of me like this," said Marge, impulsively leaning forward and kissing Susan on the cheek. "Do you think ... we could be friends?"
Stretched out on the couch in the living room, Detweiller was listening to this strange conversation and he wrinkled his brow, a little perplexed. And what was this all about? The PABWEM was supposed to be getting the two of them all steamed up for his benefit and yet they were in there talking like a pair of lesbians!
He got unsteadily to his feet, dropping the pillow on the floor since his erection seemed to be gone for the time being and walked to the door of the bedroom.
Marge and Susan were embracing! The brunette lady scientist his brunette lady scientist had one hand on Marge's trembling little breast, bending over her naked body on the bed as their lips touched hotly! What did this mean?
Suddenly he understood. The PABWEM was set at the wrong frequency. In his haste, he had tuned in distorted sexual beams, the kind that produced homosexual tendencies in normal people. It was a mistake which had to be remedied immediately. Detweiller stepped quickly into the room, but as he moved, he exposed himself frontally to the rays from the PABWEM. He stopped, his back against the wall, almost fainting as the deviate waves pounded into his helpless brain.
How disgusting women's bodies are, he found himself thinking, looking with genuine distaste at Marge's shamelessly bared body. I ought to find myself a nice young boyfriend ... God, what's happening to me?
Gasping for breath, Detweiller dashed back out of the room, too weak to try to adjust the PABWEM. He felt the homo-waves decline and disappear as soon as he got something solid between himself and the machine, but the enormity of the situation settled on him like a cloud. He could not get to the PABWEM without turning temporarily queer, and he found his big body already trembling from the one dose of radiation he had gotten. Who could tell how permanent the effect would be? He could not risk exposing himself again, and that meant there was no way of retuning the PABWEM to do what he wanted done.
Without moving from behind the door, he could survey the bed and the two women, neither of whom seemed to be paying the slightest attention to him. Their lurid soul kiss had broken off and the two females were gazing at each other fondly.
"I'm sorry I kissed you like that," Susan was blushing as she apologized. "I'm not a lesbian or anything, but all of a sudden I just had this incredible urge to..."
"Oh Susan, don't explain," Marge beseeched her new friend desperately. "I don't know what's happening to us, but I just ... want to hold you in my arms ... Can I ... unbutton your blouse?"
Detweiller gulped as Susan nodded and Marge unbuttoned. At last he was going to see those fantastically deep breasts he had dreamed of for so long. But it was not going to be his hands which unfastened the brassiere nor his mouth which kissed her delicious nipples, it was going to be Marge! He was being cheated out of his moment of triumph and there was nothing he could do about it!
Susan's blush deepened as the blonde girl's hands busily undid the front of her blouse and even though she knew that this was absolute madness, she somehow could not bring herself to break away. Her breasts were longing for the sweet feminine caress of another woman's hands and her loins were aching to be thrust against Marge's hot little pussy. This was a sexual perversion far worse than anything Det had ever done, but she could not help herself. She had to have it!
The silken material of Susan's blouse slid sensuously down off her milk-white shoulders and the aroused lady scientist turned her back submissively to allow the young magazine girl to undo the straps of her brassiere. Her mature womanly breasts had been straining passionately against the restraints of her brassiere and she sighed with pure animal happiness as the cooling air swept over the heated surface of her skin.
"Susan ... you're so beautiful," gasped Marge as she ran her hands lustfully over the other woman's ripely voluptuous breasts, squeezing and caressing the dark-puckered nipples until they popped forth enthusiastically. "I never realized a woman's body could be like this!"
"I don't know what to say," stammered the confused brunette, aware that she had fallen under some kind of strange erotic spell, but unable to do anything about it. "I never felt quite this way before about another girl." Her fingers trembling, Susan unfastened the buttons of the side of her modest skirt and hooked her thumbs inside the tight elastic waistband of her panties. "Do you mind if I ... I take off my clothes?" she asked, her voice quivering with emotion.
"Oh please, I'd feel better if you were naked too!" enthused the magazine salesgirl happily, putting her hands on the richly heaving mounds of Susan's breasts and squeezing them in pure carnal joy. Susan lost not a minute more, shoving her last remaining garments down to the floor and stepping out of them as she climbed onto the bed and stretched her long-legged body out next to Marge's slender form.
Detweiller watched from the door, staying well behind the panel of wood so that he would not be exposed to the same vicious rays which were destroying the moral sensibilities of his two tortured women. The young inventor kept telling himself that he was going to be treated to a sight which few men were ever permitted to enjoy, the vision of two nakedly full-breasted women making love to one another. The girls did not seem really conscious of his presence, or perhaps they were simply so involved with one another that they had completely forgotten about him, but he could not shake off the worry that he had ruined everything for himself, or that the effects of the distorted lust rays might well be permanent. He would never find himself in bed with Susan if she turned out to be a lesbian as a result of the PABWEM'S brutal radiations.
Certainly neither of the two females was presently acting as if she would ever have need of a man again. Susan and Marge were lying on their sides now, facing each other as their lips merged in a prolonged kiss of desire which seemed to go on and on without any visible sign of ever coming to a reasonable conclusion. Despite the passion bubbling unchecked through her sensually trembling young body, Susan's mind was still a turmoil of doubt and apprehension. She was being driven forward by desires stronger than anything she had ever known before. Her lust-maddened body seemed to have conquered her mind, but in the tiny part of her brain which was still sane, she knew that this was not right. Something very strange was happening here, but the power of the PABWEM prevented her from bringing her formidable analytical mind into focus.
Quite naturally, she fell into the feminine role while Marge, sensitized by her previous high dosage of sex-rays, became aggressively active, rising up over the scientist on her hands and knees without ever breaking off their profound soul-kiss. Susan could feel the young girl's gentle fingers caressing the helplessly quivering flesh of her inner thighs and brushing now and then through the moist brown curls of her pussy hair. She jerked away, knowing that this was insanity, but the girl became bolder by the moment, and before she knew what was happening to her, the lady scientist was forced to groan as one of Marge's feverishly exploring fingers invaded the lust-swollen lips of her vagina, making maddening feather-light strokes over the moistly fluttering opening and then moving in deeper to caress the hypersensitive walls of her throbbing cunt.
"Susan..." muttered the teenage magazine girl, stricken by lust.
Despite her scientific training, Susan found that she had no willpower left at all. Indecently anxious to be stroked and caressed even more, she pulled Marge's head down to hers and once again their lips touched, the girl's tongue spearing indecently into Susan's open mouth. Their bodies crushed softly together and the scientist felt Marge's high-set breasts pressing sensually into hers, and slowly her doubts and fears began to fade. She could count the cost tomorrow; right now she wanted this girl's body and she wanted it bad!
The moment of surrender was mutual, and
Susan suddenly found that Marge had mounted her, taking her almost as a man would. Her legs spread obscenely apart and she felt the soft embrace of another woman's cuntal lips brushing wildly against the vulnerable button of her tiny hardened clitoris. The sensation was overpowering, unlike anything she had ever experienced before. Her cunt was empty, but the tingling darts of forbidden pleasure were shooting wildly into her loins, and she lifted her legs even higher, wanting to give her young female lover the maximum access to the sweet mysteries of her cuntal flesh.
"Aggghhhhh!" she moaned in ecstasy, thrashing her head from side to side as Marge broke off their kiss and lowered her moistly glistening lips to the older woman's ripe full breasts, sucking and biting each tiny nipple until the lady scientist feared she was going permanently out of her mind. The last vestiges of her self-control slipping rapidly away, Susan fucked back against Marge's yielding young body, lustfully rubbing the tiny jewel-like bud of her clitoris against the openly fluttering lips of the other girl's cunt.
"Oh God, Susan, I needed this so badly," Marge found time to gasp. "Touch me, darling! Put your fingers inside my cunt! I need it, please!"
It was a cry of distress and Susan conquered her reluctance, sliding her hand lasciviously across the smooth flat plain of the younger girl's tummy, her fingers invading the sparse triangular patch of blonde pubic hair. Marge was already moist with lust, the sex-glands inside her churning vagina actively producing the sweet liquors of desire. The moisture was practically gushing out between the girl's pinkly swollen pussy lips now, dampening Detweiller's bed beneath her squirming buttocks, and the two women clung to each other like two desperate animals, their hips thrusting feverishly back and forth as Susan's trembling fingers dug deep into Marge's fluttering cunt.
"Oh ... I'm cummmmming!" came a faint cry from the girl's glistening lips and Susan felt an absurd sense of pride and joy sweep over her as the orgasm swept madly through her new girlfriend's lust-stricken body. "I ... don't stop ... Susan!" Marge cried incoherently as her sleek young torso bucked and heaved under the passionate pressure of her climax.
"Oh Susan," she panted as the spasms slowly ebbed and died. "How hard I came! It was never that good with a man! Golly, docs this mean we're y'know lesbians?"
"I don't know what it means," responded the dark-haired lady scientist slowly, her brain far too confused to permit her to think clearly about the matter. "I'll worry about it tomorrow. At the moment, it feels ... just right!"
"I want to make you cum! Please Susan, let me make you cum! Tell me what I have to do!"
"I'm just a beginner, myself," admitted Susan shyly, blushing with happiness as the lithe young girl got up on her hands and knees, hovering lustfully over her.
"I know a way..." Marge offered haltingly. "That horrible man did it to me and I went off like an alarm clock ... let me..."
Susan saw what was coming and tried to find the moral strength inside herself to stop it, but she was helpless as the PABWEM'S electronic immorality beamed steadfastly into her skull. Moving nimbly, the teenager inserted herself in between Susan's widely spread white thighs and slipped her hands firmly beneath the scientist's full-rounded buttocks. With a tormenting slowness, she bent over, her taut-nippled adolescent breasts brushing temptingly across the velvety skin of Susan's upper thighs, her hungry mouth seeking the warmth of Susan's nakedly begging pussy.
Susan's body rippled with forbidden joy as Marge's tongue lewdly found its way into the inner recesses of her lust-tingling cuntal flesh, a long low pleading groan breaking involuntarily from the dark-haired researcher's parted lips. She had never in her entire life felt anything like this before and she looked down between the proud twin peaks of her own voluptuously heaving breasts at Marge's young face pushing its way ever deeper into the inviting pink furrow of her pussy. The magazine girl located Susan's tiny throbbing clitoris with her lips and sucked it avariciously into her mouth. Then her wet slippery tongue speared enticingly into the churning moistness of the older woman's unused little cunt, and Susan Klemper found herself writhing in something halfway between agony and pure joy. She could not bring herself to fight off the erotic lesbian feelings which had so unexpectedly taken possession of her body and soul. And Marge was sucking her furiously, completely dominated by her desire to give Susan the same soul-destroying orgasm she had experienced herself a few minutes before.
The lady scientist tried to lie back and enjoy what was happening to her, but her own lusts were too urgent, too demanding, and Marge seemed too far away and too remote. With a brisk movement of her sensually over-heated body, she swung around, thrusting her head between the teenage salesgirl's slender legs as Marge quickly adjusted her position to accommodate her new friend's desire. For a moment, the two of them lay still, clinging to each other in the classic "Sixty-nine" position, panting audibly.
Detweiller heard them groaning and peeked around the corner of the bedroom door just as the object of his desires buried her burning lips in the tantalizingly moist furrow of Marge's open cunt, and the blonde teenager repaid the compliment by doing the same thing. It was an incredible cock-lurching sight, and Detweiller found himself wondering for the first time if this invention of his was not too powerful. Suppose he changed both women into lesbians on a permanent basis? Would they revert to being heterosexuals afterward when the current was cut off, or would the effect stay with them? And how long?
And while he was on the topic, the scientist gave some thought to the difficulty of turning the PABWEM off. He knew from past experience that amplified brain waves were virtually irresistible and the two women would be driven on with ever-increasing blasts of electronic lust until they dropped from sheer exhaustion. Experimentation was one thing, but turning people into queers or killing them was another. He had to shut the machine off before the two of them fucked each other to death!
But how? There were no fuses in his apartment and the electronic wires which went to the bedroom were buried in the wall somewhere. There was only one way. He had to shut off the power in the entire building long enough to get the two women apart. Finding a pair of pants in a hall closet, he headed for the basement, screwdriver in hand.
Meanwhile, Susan was pushing her middle finger lewdly up into her young blonde partner's widespread cuntal opening, feeling Marge twitch with pain and then relax as the tortured walls of her lust-fired cunt adjusted to the brutality of this new invasion. After having accepted Detweiller's pile-driving cock into the tender depths of her body, Marge was up for almost anything by now. The girl started panting heavily, the hot stream of air from her lips tantalizing Susan's aching vaginal lips and then suddenly they were both cumming like mad, the warm wet orgiastic moisture pouring from their finger and tongue-filled cunts.
"Oh ... it's happening..." Susan found herself groaning as her body seemed to vibrate into orbit, and she pressed her red lips even hotter into the other girl's openly spasming cunt, feeling Marge's body churn into another mind-bending orgasm. It seemed to go on and on, destined to last forever, and their hotly clinging bodies pressed furiously together.
Then, suddenly, the air cleared as if a window had been abruptly opened. Susan raised her head, Marge's cum dripping from her parted lips, and looked around to see if Det was watching them. Before, she had not cared whether he saw her nakedness and wanton lesbian passion or not, but now her sanity seemed to be returning and her mind gradually began to clear.
"Oh Susan ... Susan, what happened to us?" groaned the magazine girl as she slowly disengaged her legs from around the young lady scientist's head.
"I don't know ... everything is very strange ... what happened to that monster?"
"I don't know. Let's go before he comes back ... I'm so ashamed," confessed Marge. "But ... but I'm not sorry it happened, no matter what."
"I'm not either. Come on, we can go to my apartment and talk," suggested Doctor Klemper earnestly, stroking one of Marge's provocative little breasts out of sheer habit as she talked. "We've got to think this thing through."
* * *
From the basement of the apartment building, Detweiller watched the two women depart. Then he uttered a short bitter oath, slamming his fist against the side of the cellar wall. He had been defeated, but the game was not over yet. There had to be a way!
CHAPTER FIVE
Susan Klemper put an extra dab of rouge on her cheeks, noticing that she was unusually pale. There was a mark on her neck, a tooth-mark deposited there by Marge in a moment of unusual passion, and she rearranged the scarf she was wearing in an effort to disguise this telltale bruise.
What on earth came over me? she asked herself for the thousandth time, looking in the mirror as if she were searching for the answer somewhere in her reflected image. It was like temporary insanity! And Det? What was a responsible scientist like Det doing fucking that poor innocent child?
Marge had spent the night at her apartment and the two women had embraced each other once again in the course of the night, but without much real passion. What had happened to the two of them on Det's bed had been real. Later, it had just been make-believe. Whatever strange chemical fire had made the two of them into temporary lesbians had ebbed after leaving Detweiller's apartment and could not be rekindled into a genuine fire of passion. It was all very strange. Even Marge had been confused, having known ecstatic love in the arms of first a man and then a woman, both total strangers and all in the same afternoon.
Susan applied her lipstick carefully, recalling glumly that she was now a subscriber to Time, National Geographic, Consumer's Digest, Playboy, and Eastern Texas Literary Review. Marge's business sense had come back strong over breakfast, and the young salesgirl had managed to convince the lady scientist that no one would talk to her at cocktail parties unless she subscribed to a few magazines.
Sternly, Susan shook her head, trying to clear her mind before the Board of Trustees made its annual inspection. They were going to come to her laboratory any minute now and ask her how much progress she was making on the project of extracting the active ingredient in glowworms, and she had to be ready with some convincing excuses.
Suddenly, Detweiller stuck his head into her office, a humble apologetic expression on his face. Susan was not prepared for this and she quickly remembered how this monster had stood behind his bedroom door watching while she and Marge did unspeakably obscene things to each other, writhing nakedly on his bed. How could she ever face him again?
"Ah ... Susan, I've got to talk to you..." he mumbled, his face going red with embarrassment.
"Get out!" she hissed at him furiously.
"Don't ever come near me again, you ... you beast!"
Detweiller withdrew, the rage building up in him slowly as he walked back to his own laboratory. He had wanted to explain everything, show Susan the PABWEM and confess that he had done it all out of love for her. But she would not even listen to him. And it was a sure bet that she would never let herself be coaxed into his apartment again.
"Detweiller, you ass-hole!! ! " came a stentorian voice echoing down the hall and the researcher looked up to see an irritated expression on the face of Professor Martin. "For Christ's sake, Det, get your ass in gear! Those trustees will be coming in the door any minute now! Get back to your lab and put a tie around your stupid neck!"
"Yes, sir," snarled Detweiller, suddenly realizing that he hated Professor Martin worse than anyone in the world. What he needed to do was to get rid of the arrogant son-of-a-bitch, he decided. Why should he, the inventor and sole possessor of the PABWEM, be bullied around like an office boy? Why with the power, the control he could exercise over people's lives with that machine...
A sly smile spread slowly over Detweiller's features as the evil idea formulated itself in his brain. It would be the most criminal thing he had ever done, but if it worked, Professor Martin would be out of his life forever and he would become Susan's direct superior and then ... it all depended upon the ventilation system. There was a passageway in back of Martin's office ... Detweiller got the PABWEM out of its case and went to work, a new feeling of self-confidence sweeping over him.
* * *
"Ah, Doctor Snelling and Miss Perch! And Mrs. Blundell, too! Please come in!" Professor Martin waved his arm expansively at three plush leather-covered chairs as he ushered the representatives of the Board of Trustees into his office. Martin was feeling good, secure in the knowledge that he had handled these people before and could handle them again. There was no problem, really. Since Detweiller had made that breakthrough on the nontoxic insecticide in January, and then produced that new device for increasing egg-laying in chickens in March, the department was in good shape. Of course, he would have to cover for Susan's embarrassing lack of progress and his own total lack of activity, but the department as a whole was making money for the Hudson Valley Research Institute, and money was essentially all that a board of trustees really worried about.
The radiobiology department was paying its way, and no one could dispute success. Of course, he would have to talk down Detweiller's accomplishments a little, since word was getting around that the tall young scientist was really doing all the work, but Martin planned to present him as a bright but unmanageable researcher who needed the firm hand of an older scientist to keep him on the straight and narrow the indispensable hand, naturally, being his own.
Unfortunately, these were the three worst members of the Board of Trustees and Martin knew he was going to have to give them the hard sell. Doctor Snelling was about as friendly as Adolph Hitler with a hangover, and Miss Perch, a well-preserved blonde about fifty, was a veteran board-room guerrilla fighter who enjoyed complaining about the cost of paper-clips and slashing people's budgets. Mrs. Blundell, a snappy young widow, could be counted on to smile at him sweetly and then vote to have his left testicle chopped off at the next Trustee's meeting. They were a mean threesome.
"It's been a very good year," he told them firmly, lowering his voice and looking each one of them steadily in the eye, a technique he had learned in a Dale Carnegie correspondence course on how to get ahead in business. He was looking Mrs. Blundell steadily in the eye, positively radiating self-confidence, when the beam caught him square in the back of the head, three times the usual voltage and focused so that it would strike only him and no one else.
"Scientific research here has ... uh..." he stumbled forward, knowing that something was terribly wrong, but unable to concentrate his thoughts on anything but Mrs. Blundell's sumptuously deep bosom. "The Radiobiology Division has ... made ... progress..." Professor Martin suddenly fell on his knees before Mrs. Blundell and thrust his hands up beneath her skirt. "I want your body!" he muttered thickly.
"Professor Martin! What on earth?" roared Doctor Snelling in amazement as the head of the Radiobiology Division pushed his lustfully grasping hands up between Mrs. Blumdell's soft fleshy thighs, successfully worming his index finger under her narrow crotch band and planting it in the unprepared little orifice of her vagina. The widow was too astonished to wiggle, and simply sat there staring at him in blank amazement as a second finger penetrated her cunt.
"Martin, for Christ's sake ... " she murmured, half in shock from this unexpected assault, watching the scientist open his pants with his free hand and pull his short fat cock lewdly out of his open fly. "Later..."
"I've got to have it now..." groaned Martin, finding himself overpowered by the strongest lust he had ever experienced.
"Martin, you've lost your mind!" shouted Snelling, leaping to his feet. "Take your fingers out of Mrs. Blundell's vagina this very instant!"
Suddenly everything changed. Martin looked at the woman with loathing, wondering how he could possibly have wasted so much of his life chasing creatures as disgusting as women. Breasts, vaginas, ugh! He looked up at Snelling, standing over him, his old red face burning with anger, and Professor Martin realized that he loved him. Yanking his hand free of Mrs. Blundell's offended cunt, he whirled, wrapping his arms around Snelling's waist and pressing his lips to where the trustee's belly button ought to be beneath his shirt.
"Your body!" he muttered thickly. "Give me your body!"
"He's gone mad! Get him off me!" screamed Snelling as Martin knocked him over backwards, desperately trying to unzip the trustee's fly. Miss Perch, possibly offended because of Martin's preference for everyone else's bodies but hers, reacted the fastest. Jumping to her feet, she snatched a two-hundred-thousand-word treatise on Bioelectronics from the shelf and laid it neatly along the back of Professor Martin's skull.
"Aaagggghhhh," the professor groaned as the blow stretched him out on the floor full-length. The ache in the back of his head was killing him, but the lust seemed to be gone from his mind. He staggered to his feet, wondering how on earth he could ever repair the damage he had done to his career in these two minutes of total madness. But normalcy had returned at last. With a sign of relief, he unfastened his belt and lowered his pants.
"Excuse me," he begged their permission. "I've just got to go to the bathroom..."
"Nooooooohhhhhhhhh!! ! " screamed Mrs. Blundell as she watched Martin go into a squatting position, beads of sweat forming on his brow. Suddenly, the door opened and Timothy Detweiller rushed in, a worried expression on his earnest young face and a hypodermic needle in his hand. Professor Martin looked up in confusion, finding that the urge to defecate had departed as quickly as it had come. Det stuck the needle expertly into his superior's arm.
"There, there, professor ... everything is going to be fine," Detweiller assured him gently, shooting the contents of the hypodermic into the professor's bloodstream. "Here, just stretch out on the couch, Professor, and rest...."
"Thanks, Det," Martin mumbled vaguely as he was led to the couch. He was unconscious the moment his head hit the pillow.
"What's ... what's happened to him?" asked Snelling as Det lay the needle on the desk and spread his suit coat tenderly over Martin's still naked loins.
"Poor man," Detweiller shook his head in sorrow. "Such a fine mind! I had hoped he wouldn't have one of his spells today, but the tension, you know..."
"His spells? You mean this isn't the first one?"
Detweiller shook his head sadly. "Unfortunately they've been happening with greater and greater regularity. I've tried to get him to see a psychiatrist, but, of course, he never remembers anything afterward, and always claims that it never happened."
Miss Perch gazed at the slumbering figure of Professor Martin and then turned to Detweiller with a smile on her face. "And who's been running the department since he's been in this deplorable condition?"
"Well," Detweiller permitted himself a shy boyish smile. "I've been doing what I could, of course, trying to keep the shop running..."
"We've heard rumors that you were the mainspring around here," muttered Snelling, reaching up to pat Detweiller on the shoulder. "And I think it's about time that the trustee's showed a little appreciation."
"Right!" concurred Mrs. Blundell, covertly adjusting her panties by yanking at her skirt as she spoke. "I move we appoint Mr. Detweiller acting director of the division!"
"Until Professor Martin gets on his feet again," Detweiller commented loyally.
"No, until we can have a full meeting of the Board and vote you permanent director," corrected Snelling crisply. "Martin's finished."
"Oh, he was such a good man," sniffed Detweiller. "The staff will be very upset."
"That's life," grunted Snelling. "Better call an ambulance and have this maniac locked up somewhere."
"Yes, sir," said Detweiller, noticing that he was not stammering anymore.
* * *
Phase Two. The largest, most powerful, most accurate, most awe-inspiring Amplifying Brain Wave Emitter Module ever built by human hands. Computerized remote controls. Semi-conductors and printed circuits. Space technology. Super-miniaturization.
Detweiller tipped his hat to Susan Klemper's landlady as he climbed up to the third floor of her apartment building, letting himself into the flat he had secretly rented directly overhead. Susan was at the laboratory, naturally, working on her glowworms, so there was no danger or running into her in the hallway.
The flat was unfurnished, but Detweiller did not mind, since he used it only as a site for PABWEM-II, which was several hundred times stronger than its modest predecessor. He would set the machine up now, and when Susan arrived home tonight he would blast her. With his new increased salary as head of the department, he could afford to rent this flat as long as necessary, and pay the electric bill as well, since PABWEM-II used a fearful quantity of electricity. But Detweiller did not stop to count the costs this close to his final goal. Tonight, there would be no errors! No magazine girls! Tonight he was going to score!
One last check on the controls. His hands trembling with anticipation, Detweiller removed the floor boards and peered down through a ventilation grate directly above Susan's unoccupied bed. Having observed her for three nights in succession, the scientist was now intimately familiar with his co-worker's habits. Each night upon returning from the office, she sat down on that bed and removed her stockings. Unlike the narrow, highly focused beam which he had used on Professor Martin, PABWEM-II had a wide beam which would cover the entire room. After she took off her stockings, Susan would stand up and slip out of her dress and brassiere and garter belt. Then, wearing a flimsy pair of panties, she would don a dressing gown and go to prepare her dinner.
But tonight, it would be all different!
* * *
Susan Klemper held the rest tube full of clear liquid up before her eyes and flicked off the light switch, plunging the laboratory into absolute darkness.
The test tube glowed with an unearthly light, illuminating her face and casting long strange shadows over the quiet laboratory. For a moment, she simply breathed quietly, unable to believe that it was happening after so long. They had done it! After she had painstakingly accumulated all the facts, all the data and the statistics, her new supervisor, Timothy Detweiller, had called her in for consultation. After he had listened to her collected information, Det had thought for a few minutes and then told her exactly what she needed to do in order to produce the desired results. She had followed his instructions faithfully and the test tube was now gleaming before her eyes.
A sense of bittersweet happiness ran through her body as Susan put away her chemicals and prepared to stop work for the night. She would have liked to have gone on into the evening hours, continuing her experimentation, but tonight was the night they were supposed to send her new washing machine from Sears and she had to be home to let the workmen in.
Why had she quarreled with Det? God knew there had been plenty of blame on both sides. He had raped that helpless little magazine girl and it was an evil thing to have done, but she could hardly assume a high moral position on the matter since she herself had done exactly the same thing a few minutes later. There must have been something strange about Marge ... anyway, Susan was humiliated and embarrassed, confused and perplexed, and so she had snapped at him and now things were distinctly cool between them.
Furthermore, it had been an upsetting week. First Professor Martin had had his nervous breakdown and had to be hauled off to a mental hospital, and then Det had become unexpectedly the director of the department and her immediate supervisor. And now the glowworm breakthrough! How she wished that she and Det could become friends again, the way they were in the past, when he was still a nervous gangling clumsy blushing boyish chum! Now he had changed. He was more forceful now, less nervous, and full of self-confidence, giving orders with a firm authoritative tone of voice. Now he was a man with whom a woman could really fall in love, but ... it no longer seemed possible. He had hardly looked at her twice all week.
But if he could only be here to see how successful his instructions had turned out to be! To see the test tube glowing in the dark, and then perhaps to take her in his arms, kissing her chastely on the brow and telling her that she was the most beautiful radiobiologist in the world. Susan shook her head sharply, trying to jar her brains back into functioning the way they should. She was behaving like a schoolgirl, a foolish idiot! She had had her chance with Detweiller, more than one chance! How many times had he asked her for dates, or clumsily invited her to go for picnics in the country? And she had always refused him, scornfully. And now he had fallen out of love with her. Perhaps he was shacked up with Marge again, or even with Martin's former secretary, Amy, or some other girl who knew a good man when she saw one.
Susan had a brief crying spell on the way home, but she made it to her apartment, glancing at her watch and estimating how long she would have to wait for the moving men to arrive with her washing machine. Her body felt tired, hot and sweaty and she collapsed on her bed, wondering how she had faced all the empty evenings of her life before this. She had spent most of her time reading scientific books and running a few small experiments of her own, but these things no longer seemed satisfying now and she wanted some company, desperately. She suddenly saw herself growing old and gray, alone and unloved, the spinster lady, considered frigid by her associates and ridiculed by her neighbors. If only Det would call! She would tell him how sorry she was for having been such a bitch, give him the news about the glowworms and then suggest that he stop by for some dinner. And if he got mischievous after dinner, well, boys would be boys! He was so masculine and self-assured these days, that he would probably simply take her, if he felt like it, probably without even asking permission. She would have no moral problems to wrestle with. It would be his decision...
Her stockings felt hot and itchy, and she decided to take them off. In fact, all of her clothing felt uncomfortable, and she wondered if whatever temporary insanity had struck her that night at Det's apartment was coming back again. She threw the nylons on the floor and unzipped her dress, sighing with relief as she felt the cool air sweep over her fevered body. A second later, she slipped out of her brassiere and allowed her sensuously heavy breasts to swing free. Feeling a little wicked, she peeled off her panties and stretched out nakedly on the bed, imagining that Det was there with her.
I'm sorry, my lover, she would tell him. Do what you want with me!
* * *
Detweiller gazed with erotic delight down through the ventilation grate, studying with throbbing desire the beautiful white body which was shortly to be his plaything. She was there, naked, perhaps already feeling a little lusty even though he had not yet touched the dial on his PABWEM. He would put the machine on medium and then present himself at the door after about five minutes of gentle radiation. By that time, she would be writhing in sexual agony, no longer capable of exercising self-control, a prisoner of her own wicked emotions and he would be there to take advantage of her electronically inspired weakness.
His fingers trembling, the young scientist carefully activated the machine, this time making sure he got the kind of radio beam he wanted. The PABWEM hummed softly and the effect on Susan was immediate! Believing herself alone and unobserved, the tormented young woman ran her hands softly over the smoothly rounded mounds of her breasts, caressing herself with urgent need. Detweiller watched and grinned. It was time to get down there, and with any kind of luck, the front door would be open and he could just walk in...
Moving quietly, he left the rented apartment and made his way down the narrow flight of stairs. But just as he arrived at the door of Susan's flat, he heard a profanity on the staircase below him and looked down to see three robust men in their undershirts lugging a washing machine painfully up toward the landing. He paused, his hand on Susan's doorknob, waiting to see where they were going before he rang the bell.
"Hey, Mac, where's Susan Klemper's apartment?" the leader of the three working men called roughly, the sweat forming on his great bulging muscles as the three of them lifted the heavy machine onto the landing where Det was standing. The scientist looked at them with simple horror. They were three rough, tough and ready-for-anything moving men, and they were obviously bringing this washing machine to Susan's apartment. The experiment would have to be delayed. He would have to turn off the PABWEM or there was the distinct possibility of another disaster.
"Ah ... here ... I think ... that is, I think ... uh ... she's gone to ... Miami Beach for the summer..." he stammered desperately, stalling for time while he tried to decide what to do.
"Maybe so," muttered Freddie, the leader of the team, a short, balding man with a wrestler's powerful body. "But she's left her door open and the machine's paid fer, so we'll just put it inna kitchen. Come on, boys."
Detweiller gulped, feeling failure staring him in the face once more, and he darted up the stairs, moving as fast as his long legs would carry him. He had to turn the PABWEM off, or possibly change the setting to gentle homosexuality, anything but intense sexual desire with those three studs in Susan's apartment. . .
He yanked savagely on the door knob of his rented flat three times before he realized that the wind had blown the door shut and he had left his keys inside. Beginning to sweat profusely, Detweiller charged back downstairs, desperately trying to formulate a story for when he burst into Susan's apartment. But Detweiller was not destined to burst into anything tonight.
The door was locked!
He put his ears to the wood paneling and heard Freddie's voice, low and lusty, saying to his two assistants, "Well, boys, if that's what the lady wants, I reckon we shouldn't disappoint her, eh?"
Then there was the sound of zippers. Detweiller put his face in his hands and cried.
* * *
It seemed to have been going on for a long, long time, but Susan's head was too confused to think very clearly. There were men all around her and she tried to straighten out her brain by counting them. Three, yes, there were three of them, all naked and they had all fucked her, one after another. They were the men who had brought her the washing machine, and the moment they had walked in the door, she had known that she wanted them, all three of them, in bed with her. It was not really them that she desired, not really. It was Detweiller she wanted, but Detweiller was not here, and her vagina was burning with lust. She had needed it too badly, much too badly, and the desire had suddenly steamed up out of nowhere, blinding her with lust. She had walked nakedly to the door, tempting them with her voluptuous body, and now she was getting what she had plainly asked for.
And it was not over yet. The need was still there, undying, stronger than ever. The man named Freddie was leaning over her now, lust written across his features like a neon sign, as he bent to trail his lips wetly across her succulent young breasts.
"Oh, fuck me, please," she murmured, still bitterly ashamed of the horrid things her sex-ridden body was forcing her to do.
Freddie did not need a second invitation and he rolled over on top of her lushly tempting body, his short hard cock heading straight into the moistly gaping opening of her yearning vagina. With a grunt, he pierced her to the quick, his hips slamming forward brutally as he drove his small but blood-hardened cock far up into the greedily clutching depths of her vagina.
"Aaaaaahhhhh, deeper," she begged him obscenely, "Harder, please, I need it so bad..."
Trying to make up with frantic activity what he lacked in basic equipment, Freddie screwed into her like a madman, pounding his labor-hardened loins into the softness of her upturned loins, his rod of lust-thickened flesh pistoning into her warmly churning little cunt with ever increasing speed. Susan had cum before, but she needed it again, and she worked hard, pushing her body back up against his and trying to make herself cum by rubbing the pulsating little bud of her clitoris against his wiry pubic hair. She was almost there, and she sucked on his tongue, drawing it lasciviously into her open mouth as she fired herself into another frenzy of unnatural sexual desire. Cock, she was whispering to herself. I've got to have cock. Long, hard, untiring, frictioning cock rammed up inside my throbbing cunt. She could go on all night if they could, and if Freddie could only hold on for another minute more, just thirty seconds...
But Freddie could not. Despite the fact that Susan had gone wild beneath him, bucking and gyrating like a woman possessed, Freddie's body suddenly stiffened and she nearly cried with disappointment as she felt him grunt and, without warning, begin to spew the white-hot stream of his cum into the tortured walls of her pussy. She sobbed in frustration, cheated of the satisfaction her desire-filled body required.
"Goddamn, this chick is nympho!" Freddie declared rudely, rolling off her overheated body onto his back. "Come on, Butch, Get in there and give the lady what she wants!"
"Oh please ... I'm not nympho..." sobbed Susan, half in despair because there seemed to be no other reasonable explanation for the way she was behaving and half because she had been so close to the promised joy of an orgasm. She cried with happiness as the young man called Butch rolled on top of her, his lips hungrily searching for hers. He kissed her, long and hard, but he seemed in no hurry to thrust his long throbbing cock into the depths of her suffering cunt.
"I got a better idea," he said calmly. "If you wanna get fucked, lady, you gotta earn the privilege! Now let's see what we can do with that sweet little mouth of yours."
Susan had been dreading this moment, knowing that sooner or later one of the men would decide that he wanted to take her there, violating the virginity of her tender lips. In the tiny portion of her brain which was still functioning, she wanted to call it quits, here and now, but the fiery need down deep in the pit of her stomach was a long way from being satisfied, and she knew that she was no longer in a position to refuse the three burly workmen anything they wanted from her.
The second man was crouching over her now, the scarlet tip of his monstrous member dangling thickly only inches from her lips, and she realized that the moment of decision had arrived. He would not satisfy her until she had performed this obscene deed for him, before she made the sacrifice of her mouth, and she knew she had to go through with it. Suddenly her lips fell open and her head bobbed forward to take the veined rigidity of Butch's shaft into the unnatural sanctuary of her mouth.
"AAAAHHHHHHH, that's the way, baby, suck it like that!" Butch complimented her crudely, letting his loins sink forward as he pushed his stiffened cock even farther into her fearfully ovaled mouth. "Now we're really swinging!"
The humiliation was awful and Susan gagged slightly as she sucked the blood-engorged head of his penis into her throat, but she knew that she had to go through with it now. There was no way out and she could not have escaped even if she had wanted to, since Butch was holding her head tightly with both hands as he flexed his loins back and forth. Susan could feel the hugeness of his lust-bloated member slithering back and forth along the slippery surface of her tongue.
Butch gasped with the pleasure this perverted act was giving him, staring down with amazement at the gorgeous young woman who had so suddenly offered her peerless body to the three of them. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before in his career as a transporter of washing machines, and he was determined to take lewd advantage of the opportunity while it lasted. The mysterious young woman was obviously out of her mind with lust, and Butch saw her eyes dilating with unquenchable desire as her lips closed in a scalding oval over the pulsating scarlet glans of his cock. She was obviously not accustomed to this bizarre form of eroticism, but instinct took over and she began to nibble softly on the massive rod of flesh she held firmly between her lips.
Susan tried to pretend that this was not really happening to her, but the harsh reality of the situation forced itself home to her. There was a man's cock in her mouth, a long, hard, invading shaft of lust-impassioned flesh, and she was sucking it furiously, moaning and gagging as if she were about to die, but sucking it nevertheless. The other two men were watching, still finding it difficult to believe that all this was really true. The girl was going wild now, her cheeks billowing out like a child blowing up a balloon and small frothy trails of saliva mixed with seminal fluid were seeping obscenely from the corners of her mouth. The dark-haired girl's body was covered with a fine fragrant layer of perspiration and every muscle in her system seemed to be working as her voluptuously tormented body writhed on the bed between them.
Susan felt the man's cock go deeper, probing sadistically for the back of her throat, but she held on for dear life, cupping his sperm-laden testicles with one hand while she wound the other around his back as if she were urging him to abuse her cruelly stretched mouth even more. She could feel his penis growing longer and wider inside her mouth as his breathing grew labored and harsh. Harder and harder, he screwed down into her, his blunt bulbous glans plunging inexorably toward her tonsils, and Susan suddenly realized that she could never sink any lower than this. She had touched bottom. He was fucking her mouth as if it were merely another cunt, and when he was finished, he would pull up his pants and walk away, laughing.
Then, suddenly, it all became too much for Butch to handle. His loins collapsed on her face and Susan had to fight for breath as the warm waves of searing hot semen washed into the back of her gasping throat. The wildly throbbing shaft of his cock seemed to have exploded in the warmly moist interior of her mouth, sending streams of lust-inciting sperm flooding down into the back of her throat. The girl swallowed greedily, her Adam's apple bobbing frantically as she choked down every last drop of the man's obscene cum, her nose crushed against the flatness of his stomach. His body jerked and heaved one last time and then Butch collapsed on the bed beside her, his now limp penis slipping easily from her battered mouth.
"Not bad, baby," he complimented her crudely. "A first-class little cock-sucker!"
Susan sobbed, feeling hands swarming over her body as the men rolled her over onto her stomach. Oh, take me, take me, she was begging them mentally, but she no longer had the courage to speak. They would do what they wanted with her. She no longer had anything to say about the matter. Whatever lewd perversions they chose to inflict on her helpless body was unimportant. She had arrived at the bottom of the barrel.
Vaguely the electronically aroused young scientist became conscious that Freddie and Butch were pulling her legs apart as she lay on her stomach, and she assumed dully that this meant that the third member of the team, Larry, was going to take her dog-fashion. It doesn't matter any more, she told herself in the blue fog which was clouding her mind. Nothing matters any more.
Then suddenly the man called Larry was kneeling between her outstretched thighs, his muscular hands gripping the quivering mounds of her buttocks and pulling them slowly apart to reveal the whole length of her anal crease to his leering gaze. Susan could feel the cooling tickle of the air sweeping across her anus and then the man's finger dancing lightly over the tiny puckered entrance to her rectum. None of this meant anything to her until she heard the man's voice, chuckling lewdly.
"Looks like a nice little cherry back here," he grunted obscenely to his friends. "Think I'll have a try. What do you say, boys?"
"Go ahead, Larry," urged Butch lecherously. "Give it to her in the ass! This chick-likes everything!"
Susan began fighting back, suddenly overcome with fear as she realized the lewd sodomy the delivery man had planned for her. No, they could not possibly want to take her back there! Oh God! Why couldn't they do it in the normal place? She needed it so bad and they were wasting her time with all these games!
Frantically, she tightened her ass-cheeks as the man's thick middle finger burrowed its way forward to the firmly-clenched little hole of her anus, but the three men were all as strong as oxen and they overpowered her with ease. As Butch and Freddie held her down, Larry probed, his outstretched finger running lightly around the outer edges of Susan's small elastic nether ring. Then, with a groan of lewd pleasure, he pushed, shoving his finger up into her defenseless anus as far as the first knuckle.
"Aaaagggghhhh!! ! ! " she screamed in agony. "Nooooooohhhh, not there, pleasssssssssse!"
"Ah, sing to me, baby, laughed Larry cruelly as he moved his finger around inside the throbbing little opening, sawing back and forth in an effort to stretch the tightly contracted circle of her anus to accommodate his lust-hardened cock.
"Please, you're hurting me!" she begged him, turning her head to look the washing-machine mover in the face. But there was nothing in his eyes but sadistic need and the rampant desire to sodomize her, and she knew with one glance that she was lost. He had the physical strength to enforce his wants upon her, and he intended to fuck her in the ass. There was nothing she could do about it!
Suddenly the man moved. Yanking his fingers free, the burly, sex-driven workman smeared some of the viscous secretions from her openly throbbing cunt into the dark inviting furrow of her rectum in order to lubricate his passage, and the next thing she knew, the blunt-tipped knob of his cock was pressing hotly against the entrance to her anal sanctuary.
"Please ... it's not ... natural," she groaned, but no one was paying any attention to her. She held her breath, knowing that this was going to hurt like mad, but trying to relax her body as the hard rubbery tip of the man's pulsating thickness rubbed persistently at the tiny hairless opening of her rectum. The pressure grew intense as the moaning brunette alternated between fighting back and trying to open herself up voluntarily to him so that he could do what he wanted without tearing her in two. And then, suddenly, it began. With a grunt, Larry's loins spasmed forward and the bulbous head of his massive cock surged into her agonized rectum with a lewd pop and her body was abruptly filled with intolerable pain. Her buttocks writhed passionately in a vain effort to throw him off, but the three men all held her tightly and she could barely move a muscle. The man inched his thick cock a little farther into her nakedly thrashing body and Susan discovered that she could hardly think. They were driving her mad! By the time they were finished abusing her inexperienced young body, she would be fit to be carted off to the lunatic asylum like Professor Martin. Her loins felt as though an enormous battering ram had been mercilessly thrust up into the tiny aperture of her anus. She was pierced, penetrated, skewered and the man was forcing his murderous cock even deeper.
"Nooooooooooooh!" she breathed as he drove himself home, his loins smacking harshly into the tenderness of her cruelly spread buttocks. Then, for a moment, he did nothing, as though he were resting, and the girl felt her cruelly ravaged anus begin to adapt a little to this strange new presence. It was not exactly pleasant, but the real pain had been with his entry. Now that he was inside her thumb-spread buttocks to the hilt, it was merely uncomfortable.
With a hoarse groan, Larry began to fuck slowly in and out of the buttery warmth of her rectum as the girl tried to conquer the renewed assault of obscene fantasies which floated uninvited into her mind. She was slipping again, after a moment of semi-sanity, back under the powerful remorseless influence of the PABWEM beams, and she felt the man's hips pumping faster and faster against the ravished tightness of her cock-filled nether passage. The man's breath was now quickening as his lust increased by leaps and bounds and he gripped the quivering white flesh of her half-moons in his cruel hands, twisting and tweaking her tender skin as he pounded viciously into her offended anus.
For what seemed to be a long time, he drove mercilessly into her, and Susan lay there on the bed and took it, perversely glad in some strange way that she was being made to suffer for her sins. She had this coming, she told herself hazily. She had exposed her naked body to these three total strangers, wantonly, inviting them to play lewd sex games with her available young flesh, and now she had no right to complain if the games they liked to play were not precisely what she had in mind. And besides ... now that Larry had gone ahead and done it, she could not honestly say that being fucked in the ass was really that bad.
She could not see who it was, but one of the men was reaching beneath her loins to caress the glistening little ruby of her clitoris and a series of startlingly different sensations were beginning to build in her no-longer-virginal loins, feelings unlike anything she had ever known before. Now there was a subtle combination of pain and pleasure, of hurt and happiness boiling deep below the pit of her stomach and she found that it felt good to move her hips in time with the man's rhythmic stabs into her hopelessly violated rectum.
"Atta baby, move that sweet little ass!" crowed Larry in triumph, seeing that he was slowly conquering the girl's last line of resistance. Encouraged, Susan began to churn wildly, grunting as he skewered recklessly in between her wide-held-ass-cheeks. It seemed to get better by the moment! An incredible fire was building slowly in her abdomen and it suddenly struck her that she must not allow herself to experience an orgasm in this obscenely perverted situation ... It would be the end of everything, she was thinking, if she let them see how much she was enjoying...
Her climax hit her unexpectedly, while she was thinking about ways to avoid it, and the girl suddenly found herself howling with stark unbearable pleasure. There had been hardly any build-up, any preparation, and she knew as she sailed into anal ecstasy that she had disgraced herself eternally. A good man like Dr. Timothy Detweiller could never have any use for her now. She was a whore. Ruined. Ruined!
* * *
Detweiller awoke, stretched out on the bare floor next to the PABWEM, feeling the soreness in his muscles. Shaking his head to clear away the cobwebs, he crawled to the place in the floor where he had created a spy hole and looked down at Susan's bed. She was sleeping, her soft brown hair spread delicately over the pillows, and the tiny brown nipples on her breasts were relaxed and tender as she slumbered. She was naked, having fallen asleep immediately with exhaustion when Detweiller had finally managed to get hold of the building superintendent and get a passkey, re-enter his apartment and switch off the PABWEM. The moving men had left late, after midnight, slapping each other on the back and telling one another what fabulous lovers they were.
And what now? Detweiller felt a steely calm settling over his anguished, lust-torn body. All right, there had been setbacks, accidents, minor reversals, but with the power of the PABWEM-II at his back, he knew he would have to triumph in the long run. This morning there were no magazine girls and no moving men from Sears. There was just him and Susan, and this morning, with the assistance of several thousand kilowatts of intensive sexual desire, he would win. He no longer had any doubts. She was already his, and all he had to do now was walk downstairs and take her. His cock throbbed powerfully in anticipation as he got to his feet. It was Saturday morning and they could fuck for forty-eight hours if the current held out that long. What had happened before was not important. The real lives of Timothy Detweiller and Susan Klemper began now!
Still, he decided to take no chances. He activated the PABWEM and turned it to the highest possible power. Then he brushed his teeth, put the key to his flat in his pocket, and walked down the stairs. The apartment building was silent as his steps echoed on the steps until he stood at the door to Susan's apartment. He rang the bell.
Nothing happened.
He rang it again, but there was still no sound, and Detweiller reached up to turn on the hall light, wondering if he was going to have to do a repair job on the doorbell before he could get laid. The hall light did not work.
Furious, Detweiller pounded on the door, bruising his knuckles but successfully making a great deal of noise. Inside the apartment, he heard Susan getting out of bed, putting on her bathrobe and slippers and shuffling to the door.
"Why ... it's Det!" she cried as she recognized him. "How ... good it is to see you!"
There was no mistaking the genuine pleasure in her voice. Instead of replying, Detweiller reached out and pulled her to him roughly, kissing her long and hard.
"Oh Det," she gasped as they came up for air. "I ... don't know what to say."
"Don't say anything," growled the scientist, picking his co-worker up bodily with one arm, closing the door with his foot and carrying her directly into the bedroom.
"Did you ... come over to hear about the glowworms?" she inquired timidly as he dumped her unceremoniously on the bed.
"I came over to fuck you!" he snarled promptly, making the girl turn white with wonder. He seemed so strong, so dominant. . . "Take off your dressing gown, he ordered crisply, standing back and folding his arms. With the PABWEM blasting her brains out, he told himself confidently, she can't possibly refuse.
A strange haunted expression coming over her beautiful young features, Susan stood up obediently and undid the buttons on her gown, letting the garment slide to the floor, and exposing all the sweet mysteries of her milk-white body to Detweiller's glowing eyes. She's helpless, he congratulated himself lewdly. With all those lustful brain waves sloshing around in this room, she's a slave to my every desire!
Or was she? Driven on by his relentless curiosity, Detweiller kicked off his pants and allowed his massive erection to spring forth into plain view. Where would she draw the line? He had to know.
"Get down on your knees and kiss my cock," he ordered and then watched in silence as she knelt submissively before him and kissed his blood-hardened penis moistly on the tip.
"I'm going to fuck you in the cunt," he informed her brutally. "Is that okay with you?"
"Yes, Det," her voice was the merest whisper of feminine submission.
"And then, if I feel like it, I think I'll take you in the mouth and make you swallow my cum. Any objections?"
"No, Det, do whatever you want."
Detweiller grinned, mentally thanking the PABWEM for all its electronic assistance. He tried to imagine the fiery, strong-minded Dr. Susan Klemper behaving in this slave-like fashion without electronic bombardment. It would be impossible.
"And then, just for kicks, I'd like to fuck you in the ass," he taunted her helplessness. "Would you like me to screw you in the ass?"
"Yes, Det," the girl stammered, blushing but never dropping her plaintive brown eyes from his face. "I'd like to have you ... do it to me ... back there ... and anywhere else you think it'll fit."
Detweiller snorted with joy and ran his hands over the supple mounds of her breasts, the breasts he had desired for so long and never managed to touch before. This was the moment he had been waiting for. Completely blinded by electronic lust, Susan could refuse him nothing. He had to have everything, and for a moment he felt like a starving man suddenly confronted with a ten-course meal. There was so much, and he could not decide where to begin.
And he wanted to see everything! With an impulsive gesture, Detweiller reached out to turn on the light over the bed, since the morning was cloudy and he wanted to see all of her, every secret furrow, every tantalizing orifice, every succulent. . .
The lamp failed to light.
"What the hell," he growled. Nothing seemed to work in this apartment. It was clear that Susan needed a man around the house.
"It's the current," Susan explained throatily. "The landlady called just before you knocked to say that the whole building was out. Somebody turned on something big and blew all the fuses. Don't worry about it, lover, you can fuck me in the dark."
"The current is out?" Detweiller said stupidly, his body twitching slightly as Susan planted another warm kiss on the desire-thickened shaft of his penis.
"Right ... how beautiful he is! I want him inside me," murmured the girl, still nuzzling his naked red cock with her lips.
"Then the PABWEM isn't working!" mumbled Detweiller in the gloaming.
"Could you fuck me now, Det?" she begged him. "Please?"
"I don't need the damn thing anymore!"
"But I need it!" the girl cried in alarm.
"No, not my cock, my PABWEM," he explained quickly. "Unless we could still use it for increasing egg production."
