("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text Archive name: bigbang.txt (MF, oral, mast, anal, sci-fi) Authors name: Marcia R. Hooper (marciar26@aol.com) Story title : Big Bang Theory -------------------------------------------------------- Copyright 2003. As the author, I claim all rights under international copyright laws. This work is not intended for sale, but please feel free to post this story to other archives or newsgroups, keeping the header and text intact. Any commercial use of this work is expressly forbidden without the written permission of the author. -------------------------------------------------------- Big Bang Theory (MF, rom, oral, mast, anal, sci-fi) by Marcia R. Hooper (MarciaR26@aol.com) *** Gerry discovers more than a meteorite when she tracks down a shooting star. Based on a sci-fi story written back in the thirties--I'm sure the author never invisioned his hero transforming into a heroine, and having sex and getting back her boyfriend while saving the world--this is my very favorite story. *** This is a work of fiction and is not meant to portray any person living or dead, nor any known situation. It is meant for adults only and is not to be read by person's under the age of 18, or the legal age in the county/state/country in which the reader resides. If you would like a Microsoft Word or Wordperfect version of this story (a much easier read), please contact me at MarciaR26@aol.com. You can also visit my website at http://hometown.aol.com/marciar26/ to read the rest of my stories. If that doesn't work, which it doesn't half the time, try http://members.aol.com/_ht_a/marciar26/myhomepage/ Note: This story is adapted from the short story, "The Accursed Galaxy" by Edmond Hamilton. It was originally published in the July, 1935 issue of Astounding Stories. About two months ago, my husband handed me a book of short stories called: Before the Golden Age, by Isaac Asimov and dared me to try and make any of them modern enough to read. I laughed, thinking who would ever want to read something written 67-68 years ago, and science fiction to boot. I was wrong. Three of the stories I really liked: "The Accursed Galaxy" and "Devolution" by Edmond Hamilton, and "He Who Shrank" by Henry Hasse. I rewrote all three. This story has quite a lot of sex, so it fits nicely into Kristen's Collection guidelines. The other two don't have quite as much, but I hope you'll enjoy them as well. They are: The Girl Who Came Shrink Wrapped, and River of Screams. BIG BANG THEORY by Marcia R. Hooper (MarciaR26@aol.com) Adapted from the short story: THE ACCURSED GALAXY by Edmond Hamilton First Published in the July, 1935 issue of Astounding Stories ONE A thin, tearing sound like the ripping of a thousand sheets of paper grew with lightning speed to a violent roar that brought Gerry Abrams to her feet. "What the hell is that!" she exclaimed, running for the cabin door. She flung it open just in time to see the white hot (actually, it was green) sword of fire cleave the night sky. It came down from right to left on an almost vertical trajectory, smashing into the ground. The noise was ear-splitting and she shook with the impact. "Oh, my God!" she exclaimed. "Was that a meteor?" Then all was dark and silent again. Grabbing a flashlight from the mantle over the fireplace, Gerry excitedly ran out into the yard, turned around again and ran back into the cabin. Grabbing her leather coat and the keys out of her purse, she scolded: "Christ, Gerry! Lock yourself out!" This time shutting the door behind her and making sure it was locked, Gerry hustled across the yard and down a narrow path. She directed the flashlight ahead, sweeping it all directions. There were bear in these woods, she knew, and bobcats too. . .she didn't want a run in, but she did want her story. A print reporter for the New York Daily News, Gerry was in her fifth year in the trade. She hated the work almost as much as she hated her ex-husband, Tom, but this was the kind of story she craved. "Crack Reporter Sole Witness to Giant Meteor's Fall!" Only a crack reporter she was not and neither was the meteor a giant. If it were, she'd probably be dead. 102 Emerging from a stand of trees, and stopping for a moment to catch her breath, Gerry scanned the dimly star-lit valley below for smoke or fire. She saw a few wisps rising from the pine trees to her right, and headed resolutely off in that direction. "Let there be something left," she muttered, tripping over a root. "I need a three-column picture." Away from the path and into the pesky undergrowth, briars tore at Gerry's pants legs and scratched at her hands; boughs whipped and stung her face. "Ow!" she yelled, more than once. Once she dropped the flashlight and had to go after it on her hands and knees--momentarily it went out. "Great! Lost in the woods!" Here in the northern Adirondacks after fifty two weeks of constant reporting in order to wash the stink of slayings, scandals and corruption out of her mind (in her ex-husband's cabin), the last time she got "lost" in the woods, Gerry had squat down on poison ivy, going pee. The itch had driven her crazy, finally forcing her into town to see the doctor. What an ordeal that had been! Before long she heard a crackle of flames and caught the smell of burning. She emerged a few minutes later into a hundred-foot round circle, crushed flat by the impact. Wow, she reflected uneasily, it was bigger than I thought. Brush, grass and leaves, set afire by the impact, burned fiercely around the edge of the crater, which was ten feet wide. Smoke caught her eyes and made Gerry blink. She coughed lightly. She hated smoke. He ex-husband smoked. Then she saw the rock. Only it was not a rock at all. Half-buried in the soft earth thrown out by the impact, the object was a glowing polyhedron. Its surface was covered in a multitude of tiny faceted flats, perfectly geometrical in shape. A polyhedron that had fallen from outer space. Gerry Abrams stared. And she was scared. Backing slowly away, she saw a new headline blasting out: "Reported Killed by Polyhedron From Outer Space! Earth Invaded!" Gerry took another step back, then a tentative step in the direction of the object. She gulped and her throat made a loud click. Her throat was parched. "What the hell is that?" she muttered. Cautiously, she took a step closer, mindful of the heat. The ground around the object gave off tenuous streamers of steam and smoldered in places like a cigarette tip. The object glowed white hot, but it wasn't hot at all, Gerry discovered. The glow was illumination, not radiant heat. "What the hell is this thing?" she demanded. It was a satellite, of course. Russian, American, who knew? Maybe even Chinese. But the truth was--and Gerry very well knew it--that nothing coming through our atmosphere arrived unscathed--if it arrived at all. This thing was fully intact. Coming to a sudden decision, Gerry backed away. It was too big--too big for her. Way too big for any one person. Yet she fully deserved to have her byline on this piece, and as long as her name appeared first, that was just fine. She needed an expert, and knew just where to find one. 103 Turning around, Gerry struggled back through the woods to the path, then followed it up the slope. Once inside the cabin, she climbed the ladder to the loft and pulled her flight bag out from under the bed. She thumbed on her cell phone, waited for the familiar Verizon logo to appear, then hoped for a signal. She saw one bar. Taking a chance he'd be on his couch in his office at the observatory, dialing 411, Gerry gave the following information: "New York, New York. Dr. Ferdinand Peters. Manhattan University Observatory." Waiting for the attendant to pick up, she picked anxiously at her teeth. She needed to pee. She squirmed having to hold it in. When the operator thanked her for waiting, she wrote the number down on the back of her hand and then dialed it. "Hello?" The astronomer's voice was sleepy and irritated, but at least it was him and no one else. "Hi," she said. "This is Gerry Abrams." Before he could speak, Gerry went on: "You remember me, right? The reporter who spilled vodka martini all over your clothes?" Even as Gerry held her breath in a fearful limbo, Dr.Peter's said: "What do you want, Gerry? It's pretty late." "Did you like the article on your solar flares?" she asked. "It was published last month." Again she fingered her teeth. Her own color had flared and tears began to well.Why did I call him? "I remember it contained no less than thirty-three errors," Dr. Peters answered, somewhat acidly. Gerry groaned. "No." "Yes." "Your kidding." "I wanted to review it first." "I know," Gerry sighed. "I should have sent it down." There was a moment's silence, during which Dr.Peters sighed. "I'm sorry," he said. "I should have called you." You certainly should have. Aloud, Gerry said: "I found something, Pete." "Found what?" Gerry slowly explained. She tried not to sound too crazy. She tried not to sound insane. After digesting her words, Dr.Peter's said: "I'm coming up. By plane, if I can get a flight." Peter's hated to fly "You wait there and we'll go out and look at this thing together. Does anyone else know?" "If they do, I didn't tell them." "Well, it had to be seen. Most likely there's hunter's out scouring for it now." What Peters meant by "hunters" were the professional meteorite collectors. The chased down any significant fall for selling to the highest bidder. They were hated by professional and amateur astronomers alike. "We have to beat them there," Peters said. TWO In the early morning light, Gerry stood beside the small but immaculately kept runway at Lake George Lodge. Used mostly by local inhabitants, twice a year the lodge drew an influx of profession sportsmen, coinciding with the start of fishing season and the bass tournaments they spawned. Gerry had never fished, but she liked bass well enough. She waited for the plane. Jesus, Gerry, she thought. You broke up his marriage. So what, the unrepentant side of her said. If he didn't want to jump, he didn't have to. But jump he had, and Gerry and Peter's spent three incredible months fucking madly, often at her cabin in the woods, sometimes even bothering to talk. His wife has the kids. she thought. You're why his wife has the kids. Putting the argument aside, Gerry paced anxiously up and down the strip. The last time was back in June, when the first tournament had hit. They had spent three days in bed. Three days memorizing each other's skin. Three days luxuriating in the cool mountain air as precious seconds ticked by and the wife grew wise. She had not seen him since. Gerry heard the drone of a plane. Coming in from the east and circling gracefully over the lake, the yellow and red float plane came in low over the water. Throttling back at just the last moment, the pilot let the pontoons gently touch, then set the plane in the water. He sidled up to the dock. The instant the ignition was cut, Peters threw open the door and jumped out. His face was gray with strain and unshaven beard and his eyes were bloodshot. Eying Gerry walking toward the dock, he perfunctorily waved. "Hi," Gerry called, keeping enthusiasm out of her voice. He looks just awful, she thought. How do you look? At twenty-four years of age, Gerry stood five-feet-seven inches tall and weighed an unhealthy one-hundred and two pounds. None of her clothes fit anymore, and Gerry was too stubborn to buy anything new. Her bra size had shrunk a full cup and a half, leaving her to flop around in her bra's. Lately she had resorted to safety pinning them closed. She no longer looked at her chest in the mirror. I look just fine, she replied. Stepping up on the dock, Gerry waited for Peters to retrieve his bag, then make final arrangements with the pilot. She kissed him chastely on the cheek, hands in her pockets. "Hi, Pete," she said. "Hi, Gerry." They stood together uneasily for awhile, afraid to say a word. Then Gerry stepped off the dock and lead the way to her car. 104 "You're sure the thing is a polyhedron?" Peters asked. "Not just a meteorite with some resemblance to that shape?" "Wait till you see it ," Gerry said. "My car will take us almost there." Her car was 2003 Toyota Land Cruiser and it did go anywhere, almost. "Let me throw this in the back, okay?" Peters said, going to the hatch. "Its equipment I thought we'd need." His equipment consisted of various-sized pry-bars, a fifty-piece, all-purpose Craftsman tool set, a pair of Army surplus collapsible shovels, and a miniature oxy- acetylene torch. After stowing his bag in the back, Peters jumped in and they bumped and rattled their way over the uncertain mountain roads. They rode in silence, finally reaching a turnout near the site. It was the Appalachian Trail. Retrieving his pack and settling the pack on his shoulders, Peters said: "We hiked this path before." Gerry said, "Uh-huh. It leads back up the mountain, almost to my place." She pointed up the slope. "It's about halfway up, and over to the left." They left the path at a spot marked by Gerry with a red hair-bob tied to a branch--she ignored his half-smirky grin--and fought their way through the brambles. The going was much easier in the daylight, it not any less painful. When they emerged in the clearing where the "meteorite" lay, Peters let out a soft whistle. "A satellite," he said. Gerry said, "That's what I thought, at first." Peters slowly nodded. "How could it survive the impact. . ." "It couldn't." Moving slowly toward the object with his best scientific- undertaking expression, Peters walked with Gerry around the hole. Keeping his eyes fixed on the object, he said: "I should have called you, Gerry. I really should." Gerry was unsure what to say. She wanted to cuss him out. She wanted to kick his ass. She almost called him a fucking cock. "I called you," she said. "Yes. You certainly did." Leaning over the object to hide his look of guilt, Peters held out his hand. "Pete--" "I'm not going to touch it," he said. He held his palm six inches from the surface. "It's not hot. But it glows." "Should have seen it last night." Peters grunted. Getting out the pair of collapsible shovels, Peters opened them both and handed one to Gerry. "Gee, thanks." Peters grinned. "This is a two man job." Gerry looked down at her body. The leather coat camouflaged her lack of assets up top, but there was no disguising her jeans. They hung on her in the best Hip- hop fashion. "I guess I'm your man," she said. Going to work on one side, while Peters worked on the other, Gerry soon uncovered something of interest. "There's a marking on the side," she said. Then looking closer: "A diagram of some kind." Peter's came around to look. "You know," he said, going down on his knees, "if this thing is some kind of metal, it's like nothing I've ever seen." Gerry thought the "tiles" looked ceramic. "No," Peter's mused, looking closely at the newly discovered outline. "Ceramic doesn't glow." "Neither does metal," she said. "Good point." Examining the pattern graven into the object's side, Peters grunted in surprise. "What?" Gerry asked. Peter's expression was bewildered. "I don't know," he said, though Gerry thought he did. Getting very close to the diagram, Gerry looked it over again. This time she saw that the swarms of tightly clustered dots forming patterns, most of them spiral, in the shape of galaxies. Then she saw the strangely formed line of icons, looking like hieroglyphics. "What the hell are those?" she asked, pointing. 105 "Writing of some kind," Peters observed. "An inscription?" Gerry envisioned the photograph now, a pretty blonde posed in the foreground for added enticement. "Crack Reporter and Scientist Crack Alien Code!" The only thing getting cracked around here, she thought, was her head. Peters could not hide his excitement. "These symbols are not any language from Earth, Gerr. At least not the language of anyone capable of this." He touched the object for the first time. Gerry saw him minutely wince. "The diagram is definitely some kind of star chart, only laid out in super-cluster size." He paused. His eyes were big and round. "Super-cluster sized," he repeated. Gerry, unsure what all that meant, said, "Yeah?" "Yeah. The central one, I think, may symbolize the Milky Way." He pointed out a spiral-armed cluster. "This," he said, "is definitely Andromeda, over here." "How do you know?" Gerry said, thinking the two clusters looked just alike. "Because it's in the right place and set in the right configuration." Gerry thought that sounded absurd, then remembered the pictures she had seen of the Andromeda cluster, and thought maybe he was right. Seen half-turned away, and from the top, Andromeda would look just what she saw on the "tiles." "But they're too close together," Peters mused, distractedly, for which Gerry took his word. "This would have been their positions," he shrugged, "maybe twelve billion years ago." Gerry hid her smile. Right, she thought. Eight billion years. "Come on, let's see what's inside." "Do you think that's wise?" Gerry asked. Anything capable of withstanding a meteoric landing was best not to mess with. At least not here. "Pete--" "Come on," he said, going around to the other side. "Let's play around." Let's play around in the cabin, she thought. Then she said it aloud. Peters looked up. His eyes said it all. "Why the fuck didn't you call?" Gerry demanded. She sat down on the ground, then began to cry. Gathering her knees up to her chest, she began to cry in earnest. "I waited until I thought," she got out between sobs, "that maybe he went back to his wife. Maybe he needed her and the two kids more than he needed me. Maybe he had to think about his tenure and the respect of his colleagues and maybe this stupid little shit just didn't deserve him at all. And then you know what!" she shouted. "Then I found out the wife and the kids were not in the house on Long Island, but in some condo upstate! And that Mister I'm-sorry-but-I-can't-make-it-up-this-weekend famous astronomer was not sick and despondent but seeing another woman! A Professional woman! Someone with stature! Someone who wouldn't ride her ass up and down on his dick and then suck him off afterwards! Someone who wouldn't let him chase her up and down the Appalachian Trail in the nude with a spanking across his knee if she's caught! And I bet she sure as hell wouldn't--" "Gerry!" he snapped. "Stop!" And that's when Gerry let it all fall out and collapsed on her side in the dirt. THREE "Are you better now?" It was some time later and Gerry lay with her head in his lap. She still sobbed with an occasional hiccup and a hitching of breath, and her chest really hurt, but the worst was done. "I do not think you're a harlot," he said. Gerry moved her head in a "yes you do" manner. She wanted to suck her thumb. She wanted to suck his dick. Peters stroked her hair. "I'm sorry," she said, finally. "I really lost my cool." "No, you didn't," he said, continuing to stroke her hair. "It was unfair." "It was the truth," he said, his voice tight and bitter. Gerry looked up. "Are you and her still...?" Peters shook his head. Gerry returned her head to his lap. "Good," she said, making them both sigh. Peters stroked her hair, tucked loose strands behind her ear. He had done that a lot at the cabin. "So," she said, "are you seeing--" "No." Gerry said nothing. She looked deep into the woods. A doe and a pair of speckled fawns stared back. That brought on a smile. Gerry raised up. "You are an asshole!" she said, and then Peters kissed her. * Some thirty minutes later, the "meteorite" wholly forgotten, Gerry lay enclosed in Peter's arms. She was semi-covered by her coat, but her rear end was bare and so were her legs. She suffered a light but continual shiver. The doe and her fawns had gone. "I'm so cold!" she chattered. Both of them laughed. "I have to get dressed." "Stay here a while." "You're not the one bare-assed for anyone to see!" she whimpered. "Stop whining. I hate it when you whine." Gerry scrunched herself more tightly into her coat. She worked her legs in between his. Peters was completely clothed and Gerry completely nude, but the truth was, she would not trade her place or this moment for any in the world. "I'm so glad you came," she whispered. "So am I." "I'm glad you fucked me," she said, bringing another laugh. "Gerry," he said, holding both the back of her neck and the swell of her rear end. "You've got to gain some weight." Gerry whined, indecipherable. "Stop that," he said. For a time they lay quiet and content, Gerry shivering happily. Peters was happy to let her. He always was the dominant half. Finally, Gerry rose up and gathered up her clothes. Sitting between his legs, she put on her brassiere, ashamed of her shrunken breasts. "Jesus, Gerr," Peters clucked. "You're skin and bones." Gerry mumbled, "Shut up." As he always did, Peters fastened her bra. "You might as well not wear one," he said. "Shut up." Stretching out her legs and then drawing them up, Gerry slid into her panties. She wiggled them onto her rear. She had not shaven in a month and she felt extremely self-conscious. She would shave tonight, even if Peters left. Putting on her flannel shirt and buttoning it up, then getting up with a hand from Peters, Gerry climbed into her jeans and zipped them closed. Peters watched with undisguised concern. "Shut up!" she warned, slipping on her coat and then buttoning it up. "I don't want to hear it." Finally donning her boots, Gerry turned to face the object. "Back to this," she said. * Two hours later, Gerry and Dr.Peters sat exhausted, humbled and defeated. The object had no doors. Their efforts to get into the mysterious polyhedron had utterly failed. "Whatever it is," Peters groused, "they designed it well." He wiped his brow. Despite the cold mountain air, he'd broken a sweat. "Who do you think made it?" Gerry asked, scraping her nails. Four of them had broken, three on the left hand. She'd have to clip them tonight. "Who the hell knows. Not us." "Do you think--" "I don't know what to think!" Peters exploded. Gerry leaned across and gave him her mouth. This settled Peters in one respect, but excited him in another. Gerry put her hand on his crotch. "Cut that out," Peters said. "This is business." "This is business too," Gerry whispered. She wanted his tongue. Fuck that. . .she wanted his cock. "Take me to bed," she moaned, pushing Peters onto his back. They made out for ten luxuriant minutes and then Peters said: "We can't." Gerry said that she knew. "We will when we get back to the cabin," Peters said. Gerry said that she knew that as well. Peters whispered conspiratorially into her ear and Gerry's eyes opened wide. Then she laughed. Then she giggled. "Oh, my!" she choked. "You will?" "You just watch me!" Gerry looked at the polyhedron. "When can we go?" she demanded. * Ten minutes later, they were back to sitting on their rear ends. Peters had his fingers steepled, tapping them gently against his lips. "You know," he said. "I don't think that's metal at all." "What is it, then?" Peters laughed. "It's what it isn't." Gerry waited. Peters ticked off his points. "It isn't magnetic. It has no metallic ring. It has not so much as a single scratch upon its surface and what we used should have put one there. When you tap on the side, there's no hollow ring. But it isn't solid. We could never have moved it if it was solid." They had rolled the thing awkwardly out of the hole and onto flat ground. It weighed almost nothing; Gerry easily could have moved it herself. Peters continued, "The surface shows no effects of atmospheric reentry. Or entry, in any case. The heat would have left scorch marks on the surface or it would be partially melted. Nothing. And nothing will stick." Rolling the polyhedron out of the hole, they were amazed to find that--even the section dug out of the ground-- that it was spotlessly clean. Examined under magnification, they'd seen no soiling at all. "Even Teflon sticks to something!" Peters complained. Gerry didn't correct him. "Anyway, what I suspect is this is not matter at all, but some kind of materialized force." Gerry stypticly blinked. "Energy that's been converted to a matter-like state," Peters explained. "But isn't really matter at all. What physicists call force-crystalization." Don't try to explain that to me, Gerry's eyes begged, and Peters didn't. 106 "Can we open it?" Gerry said. "Ever?" Peters shrugged. "If we were God." Gerry took that to mean it was something man could envision, but never achieve. Peters stood up. "Let's go back to the cabin. We'll decide what to do later." Gerry stood up fast that Peters laughed. What? her grin challenged. On the way back to the path, Gerry led and Peters followed her out. He kept her in check with a finger in her back pocket--Gerry relished the touch. Even better, Peters occasionally let his hand play over her ass, bring Gerry to a low simmer. She loved her ass rubbed. She loved her ass fucked. Tonight, she hoped, she'd get them both. By the time they made it back to the turnout, it had grown dark; hers was the only car left. Looking back up the mountain, Gerry remembered the eerie, shimmering glow the object gave off. Suddenly, the idea of materialized energy seemed not so odd. What if it blew up? As though reading her thoughts--or at least her face-- Peters said: "Don't worry. Anything capable of maintaining cohesion in such an extreme state, has to be stable. It couldn't exist otherwise." "Then no one can set it off by kicking its tires?" Peters laughed. "Remind me not to try." Back at the cabin, they cleaned up, Peters showering first, then Gerry. Not out of any sense of propriety, or situational decorum, but because the cabin had only a cramped shower stall. And Gerry wanted to shave. She came out of the bathroom feeling clean, freshly vital, and dizzy with anticipation. She tried not to let it show. The main room with the loft above took up most of the cabin; the kitchen was the size of the bathroom and almost as cramped. With a postage stamp-sized stove and an under the counter fridge--the dishwasher consisted of Gerry's two hands and a dishtowel--it was a place Gerry stayed clear of. Standing in the middle of the cabin in her white robe and a towel wrapping her hair, Gerry felt the best that she had in a year. She took off the towel and Peters watched thoughtfully as she brushed her hair. It was short now, not shoulder length as when Peters last was here. "You know that diagram?" she said. "I can't get it out of my head." 107 Peters continued watching her brush. She was brushing now just for him. "That thing is not something that visits us every day," she said, feeling her robe open slightly. "Probably not ever." "I agree." "Then we can assume its not suppose to be here now?" "Let us presume." "Then," she said, stopping to open her robe and then cinch it back tight--Peters pupils flared and his hand twitched on his leg, "we can also presume it's been sent by some superior intelligence?" Peters got to his feet. His mouth had a tentative grin, but his eyes were intent. Gerry playfully backed away. "Wait," she said. "For what?" "Later." "The future is now." "I want to cook you some dinner," Gerry protested. "I'll take it now." Crossing to where Gerry stood, Peters took her brush and threw it aside. Then he kissed her neck. Then he kissed that place in the shadow of her neck than made Gerry moan. Her heart pounded hard and her chest rose and fell. I want you so bad, she thought. So very, very bad. Picking her up and carrying her to the surprisingly large couch, Peters lay Gerry down and lay down upon her. He opened her robe and he opened her legs, and taking her wrists, held her hands up above her. "Ohhhh, God, " she moaned. She ground her clitoris against his hardened cock. The bulge of it spread her lips, grinding hard against the flesh between. Inflamed by the rush of blood and the outpouring of hormones, her flesh grew molten. "Oh, God! Oh, God!" she choked, sucking in breath. Her orgasm began and began to grow stronger. Peters put his hands in her hands and entwined their fingers, and Gerry raised up, arched like a bow. And still Peters maddened her with his pent up cock. "Fuck me!" she begged. "Please, Peter! Fuck me!" Peters removed his cock from his trousers and put it into her vagina. Gerry began to fuck like a maddened dog. Her hands went to where Peters had held them against the armrest and clutched the armrest tight. They dug in like talons. Raising until only her feet and her head touched the couch, she exploded in astounding brilliance as sperm erupted inside her. Every woman deserves consideration at a moment like this, and Gerry will get it. * It was four hours later. Spent, aching, mentally as well as physically drained, Gerry lay outstretched on the floor. Her chest rose and fell in a smooth, not-quite- effortless rhythm. Her heart beat visibly beneath her chest. Her small breasts, sporting a number of bite marks and bruise-colored hickeys, were tipped with small silver clamps. They ached, but Gerry enjoyed the pain. Just to be in it was enough. A similar device was between her legs, but instead of a small silver clamp, the nub of her clitoris and the surrounding tissues were encased in a clear plastic hood. This in turn was hooked to a small vacuum pump which, humming softly, had her captured flesh florid with blood. Gerry reacted with a low, continual shudder. "That's enough," Peters said. He turned off the pump. Gerry pleaded, "Noooo!" Peters removed the plastic hood. He marveled at the effect. Gerry had been in continual orgasm since seven o'clock. Or so it seemed. Gerry moaned again. "Peter!" "I said, no more. This isn't a healthful thing." Grinning with her eyes closed, Gerry said, "My life in a nutshell." Peters examined her over-used and raw-looking pussy. Tomorrow, he knew, she'd have a stiff-legged gait. If she could walk at all. And what he had done to her ass. . . Rising to a sitting position, Peters removed the clamps from her nipples--she again moaned in protest--and drew Gerry up. She could barely stand. "My God," she said, putting a hand to her forehead. She stood slightly bent, her rear end pushed out and her knees hobbled like those of a newly born foal. Peters covered her up with her robe. "Put this on," he said, threading in her arms. He cinched her up in the front and guided her over to the couch. Her movements were uncertain, as though unsure where she even was. "You okay?" he asked. She laughed shakily. "No." "Something to drink?" She laughed again. "Other than your sperm?" Going into the kitchen, Peters returned with a Samuel Adams beer for them both. He screwed off both caps. "Here," he said, putting the bottle against her brow. Gerry moaned thankfully and leaned in against him close. He'd used a cold bottle on her before, but not on her forehead. "Thank you," she murmured. "Ay-yup." For a time they just sat, Gerry draped on his shoulder. Her vagina ached and her rectum ached even worse. Tomorrow. . .well, tomorrow would be a challenge. "Carry me up to bed?" she murmured. That couldn't be done, of course, not with the loft, but Peters got her drift. Picking her up in his arms, he carried her to the base of the stairs, and then assisted her up. He then assisted her out of the robe and into her feety-pajamas. Peters loved Gerry in her feety-pajamas. They slept until seven a.m. FOUR They were halfway down the path when Gerry remembered something Peters had said. "That diagram. . .you said it corresponded to when the universe was young?" "Yes," Peters said. His breath came out a fine mist, drifting back over his shoulder. A cold front had moved in overnight, leaving a light frost. Gerry winced with every step, her gait awkward and slow. Her face that morning had stayed mostly a glowing red, her words a bedeviled, "Stop it!" or an exasperated "No!" or a "Cut it out!" as Peters roasted her over her condition. He had really worked her out. "You didn't mean the thing was made back then?" she asked. "Did you?" Peters looked caught by surprise. "No," he said, though a troubling look flicked over his face. "It's just, you know, you couldn't get much detail onto something that size if it was made to scale." "The universe has expanded then?" Gerry said. "Well, of course, it's expanded, dummy," Peters said, laughing. "Everyone knows that." Gerry gave him a crusty look. "That's not what I meant." Peters apologized and went on: "The other galaxies lie at enormous distances from our own. The nearest one is more than a million light years away--Andromeda--and the others are much farther still. Most, but not all, are moving away. We've been able to determine through spectral shift which ones are receding the fastest, and are therefore the farthest away. It's called spectral Red Shift." I know what it's called, Gerry wanted to say. I'm not illiterate. "How far is the farthest?" Peters stopped at Gerry's red hair bob. "About thirteen billion light years," he said. "Hubble just found the most distant one yet. It's rate of recession relative to us--" Peters worked his way gingerly through some briars, "--is almost the speed of light." Despite herself, Gerry wanted to whistle. "Then, it's just a coincidence," she said, "that the groupings are so close together." "Like I said," Peters remarked. "If it were set to scale, the thing would have obliterated the Earth." 108 109 Nearing the crash site, Peters suddenly faltered in his step and halted. Gerry, following close behind and intent on the sticker bushes attacking her legs, bumped right up against him. She staggered back. "What's the matter?" she asked. Peters rubbed his brow. "I don't know," he muttered slowly, "I just got..." "Got what?" Peters's eyes were unfocused and his mouth hung dully open, scaring Gerry a little. "Pete? Ferdinand?" she said, shaking his arm. Gerry only used Peters's given name when agitated or as a tease. "What's the matter?" "I just had... I just had a sudden insight on how that thing would open." Gerry's looked went from concerned to skeptical. "You did?" "Yeah, like right out of the blue. Something to do with barium oxide, phosphoric acid, and phosgene gas." "What are those?" Gerry inquired. Peters gave her a blank, bewildered stare. "I'm not really sure." 110 Moving on in silence, they emerged into the clearing where the enigmatic polyhedron sat glowing. Suddenly, Peters burst into laughter. "Of course!" he cried. "I know how to open it! It's simple as hell!" Gerry stared at him opened mouth. Now she really was sacred. "How can you know that?" she demanded. "I just do," Peter's answered with brisk confidence. Rubbing his hands together, he said: "I need to order some supplies. Get my note pad out of the bag, will you?" he said, striding off toward the object. "Yes, sir," Gerry grumbled. She felt like snapping off a salute. But she watched Peter's inspection of the polyhedron's facets with something akin to dread. He touched that thing, she suddenly thought. The memory was as clear and as hard as a diamond. He touched that thing and he grimaced. She remembered his sudden expression of. . .what? Disgust? Fear? "Pete," she said, hurrying over and taking his arm. "I want you to do something," Peters almost ignored her. He ticked away at one of the groups of dots with his finger. "What?" "I want you come with me back to the path." 111 "What the hell for?" he demanded. "I want to get this thing figured out and opened." "I want to get it opened too," Gerry lied. "But this is important. Come with me, will you?" The look Peters flashed her verged on contempt, but Gerry was too scared to be hurt. "Come on," she urged, taking his hand. "Humor me." Peters let loose an exaggerated sigh. "Women! Damned fools, every one." But he let her lead him away. "I'll tell you what," Gerry said, pulling him along behind her into the trees. "If what I'm thinking is wrong, I'll let you come in my mouth." Peters was momentary shocked, but instantly recovered. "I did that last night," he gibed. "If you don't remember." Despite her fear, Gerry turned a bright cherry red. An abashed grin took over her face. "I remember," she muttered, remembering also where it been just prior to her mouth."But I'll do it right there on the path--naked- -and this time I'll swallow!" Peters broke out in a laugh. "Please, God!" he exclaimed, steepling his hands and looking toward the heavens. "Let her be wrong! Please! Let her be wrong!" Arriving back at the path, Gerry still bore her glow. She fidgeted from one foot to the other, while Peters just stood there and grinned. Cut it out! her crooked eyebrows said. Smugly, Peters said: "So, what was it you wanted to show me?" Gerry said, "Do you still know how to get into the polyhedron?" "Of course I know how to--" He stopped abruptly and abruptly blinked his eyes. He looked almost panicked. "I don't understand," he mumbled, looking back and forth up the path and then back toward the crash site. "A few minutes ago I was completely damned sure, now I don't even know exactly what I was thinking." "I thought so," Gerry said softly. A sudden chill ran up her spine. "When you're at or near the polyhedron, you understand a process that's beyond human science. But as soon as you're a distance away, the knowledge goes away. Do you see what that means?" Peters' face showed reluctant comprehension. "You think that something--something in that thing is telling me how to get it open?" Gerry slowly bobbed her head. "If something is inside that thing Pete, it's something that can't open it from the inside." She emphasized her next words. "I think it would be a really made mistake to do its bidding, don't you?" Gerry suddenly remembered an episode of the old Outer Limits television show that she had seen as a child. A space ship carrying banished alien prisoners had crash- landed on Earth, setting free a bunch eight-legged freaks in an isolated stretch of desert. A cross between foot- long ants and Gilligan of Gilligan's Island, the creatures were finally wiped out by their human prey, but not before wrecking havoc. She never forgot the Zanti Misfits, nor their horrible human-like faces. 112 "We'll go back," she said, almost in a whisper. "And if you know how to open than thing up, we'll know we were right." For a number of seconds they stood silent in the cold morning sunlight, smelling the pine trees around them and the faint smell of burnt grass. Then they walked silently, hesitatingly back toward the site and its cryptic polyhedron. The hair on Gerry's' neck arose and, entering the clearing, she wanted badly to run. Peters suddenly turned a white face toward Gerry. "You were right," he said, gulping. "I'm back here and suddenly I know how to open it up again." He turned his white face toward the object. "Something inside there-- something that was locked up inside, ages ago--is telling me it wants its freedom." Gerry felt a sudden alien terror. "We have to get out of here!" she whispered, in a terror-shaken voice. "This thing is absolute evil!" Four steps they backed away, then suddenly Gerry broke and run. She let out a low keening yell as Peters scrambled to catch up. "Gerry, wait!" Nuh-uh! No way! Gerry thought, shaking her head, but she couldn't ignore the sudden, heart-stopping command that exploded in her head: "WAIT!" Gerry screeched to a halt and got knocked flat by Peters. "What the hell was that!" Peters shrilled. Staring back at the object from the ground, Gerry didn't want to know. All she wanted was to get back on her feet and run. "Wait!" The word, a desperate plea, was much softer now, but stronger than any spoken work. Gerry looked at Peters who looked at the polyhedron that had talked to them both. "This is fucked," Peters whispered. "Hear me out," the mind-voice begged. "Let me at least explain!" "Let's get out of here while we still can!" Gerry hissed. "Whatever's in that thing, whatever is talking to our minds, Pete, it isn't human. . .it isn't even from our space." Gerry was sure of this--as sure as she was that her mother and father had brought her kicking and screaming into the world. A world that was now on the verge of disaster. But Peters was looking fascinatedly back at the object, his face twisted with conflicting emotions. "I'm going to stay," he said, "and listen to what it has to say." "Pete! No!" "If you were a scientist you'd understand." Peters said. He walked slowly back toward the object. "If you weren't a scientist, you would understand," Gerry pleaded. "Now, please! Let's go!" Peters kept walking forward. Gerry, torn between her terror and her love for the man, slowly got up and brushed herself off. Her short was torn. "This is a big mistake," she muttered. Then she called: "At least don't do anything until we decide what's inside!" Peter's nodded his agreement. 113 As she neared the glowing polyhedron, feeling as though the ordinary sunlit day were perhaps the last of her life, the thoughts from within the object bore more strongly into Gerry's mind. "I am thankful that you have stayed. Please come closer to the polyhedron. It is only through immense mental effort that I can penetrate the shield." Numbly, Gerry followed Peters to the side of the object. She felt like Stephen King's proverbial, "cow in the slaughterhouse chute." "Remember," she whispered hoarsely to Peters, "no matter what it tells us, no matter what it promises, don't open it up!" The scientist nodded unsteadily. "I'm just as afraid of it as you are, Gerr." The mind-voice said: "I am a prisoner in this contrivance, as you have guessed. For a time almost longer than you can comprehend, I have endured this imprisonment. Now I am upon your world and need your assistance to escape, but I sense that you have great fear. If I disclose to you who I am, and how I come to be here, you will not be so afraid. I wish you to know these things." Gerry felt as though she stood in the nightmare world of Freddy Krueger. She could almost imagine the tines of his sharpened blades penetrating the case from the inside. "What I wish to convey to you will best be understood by the use of visual pictures, as well as by spoken words. I do not know the capacity of your minds for reception of such pictures, but I will attempt to make them clear. "Do not attempt to think about what you see," the mind- voice cautioned. "Merely allow your minds to remain in a receptive condition. Hopefully, you will understand some of what I show you; my thoughts will accompany the visual impressions." Gerry felt sudden panic as the world disappeared beneath her feet. The polyhedron, the sunlit scene, the ground and the blue sky were replaced by the black vault of space--a lightless, airless void. 114 Below her--far, far below--there floated a colossal cloud of stars. In the shape of a softly compressed orb, its stars could be counted only by the billions of billions "This is the universe as it was," the voice informed her, "fourteen billion years ago. The stars you now identify as individual galaxies were gathered together in a super- cluster, a mere million light years across." Gerry rocketed downward toward the mighty swarm at a mind-bending speed, into the cluster itself. She beheld that many of the stars had planets orbiting around them and that many of the planets were inhabited.The inhabitants were sentient beings of force, each one a tall, disk-crowned pillar of brilliant blue light, immortal, the voice told her, passing through space and matter at will. They were the only sentient beings in the cosmos. The super-galaxy and all its matter and energy was entirely at their command. Now Gerry's viewpoint shifted to a world near the center of the swarm. There she observed a single creature of force engaged in a new and unprecedented experiment upon matter. The creature sought to build new variations of structure, combining and recombining atoms in infinite permutations. Suddenly, the creature came upon a combination of atoms that gave strange results. The matter moved of its own accord and was able to receive stimuli and to remember the stimuli and to act upon it itself. It was also able to assimilate matter into itself and so to grow. The experimenter named this new matter by a name that solidified itself in Gerry's mind as "life." As the diseased matter expanded and assimilated more and more of the ordinary matter around it, the experimenter became alarmed. Deciding this new form of matter must be immediately destroyed, he set about this task, only to erroneously set it free. Escaping from the experimenter's lab, this strange new pestilence of life began to spread over all the planet. Everywhere it spread, infecting the surrounding environment until, despite the force- creature's best efforts at eradication, the planet had to be abandoned. The pestilence grew worse. Spores, driven by the push of light to other suns and to other planets, spread out in all directions. The pestilence was adaptable, taking on different forms as required to live on different worlds. It propagated itself, growing always, infecting more and more of the super-cluster's non-organic life. 115 For every world the force-creatures stamped out life, it spread to two others. Always, some hidden spore escaped. Soon, nearly all of the worlds of the central super- cluster were leprous with the plague; the entire universe was at risk. A radical solution was required. A radical solution was proposed. On the advice of the experimenting force-creature--for his talents and imagination were truly great--it was resolved to apply a great rotational force to the cluster. This the force-beings did by their own radiance of life, sacrificing great numbers of themselves in order to save the rest. They set the super-cluster to spinning, accelerating it over time until the outward momentum offset the centrifical force, breaking the cluster apart. Gerry witnessed that break-up from high above, watching as the colossal, spinning cloud of stars disintegrated, sending uncountable numbers of these new, smaller galaxies free of the parent form, until at last, nothing remained but a pogrom of infected life, an immense, quarantined, blighted galaxy unto itself. And still this pogrom turned. This pogrom which bore the spiral form caused by its initial rotation. Within it now, the infestation had spread to nearly every world. And the rest of the universe watched. "I was banished," the mind-voice said with unfathomable sadness. "As unleasher of the plague, I was to be forever imprisoned within this energy shell, to wander unguided and unknown among the many stars, never to be found." 116 Gerry watched the glowing polyhedron float aimlessly through space, from one end of the galaxy to the other, drifting always at the whim of passing light, as years stretched from millennia into eons, and then into epochs. The other galaxies sped farther and farther away, while the pestilence loose in the central galaxy covered every possible world. Only this one force-creature remained, imprisoned eternally in its polyhedron-cage. Suddenly Gerry was back in the cold sunlit world, standing beside the polyhedron. She was dazed, wobbly on her feet, and seriously in need of a pee. Beside her on his knees, Peters was busy at some form of triangular- shaped contraption. It had copper piping and ebony- colored tubes, and an acrid-smelling smoke rising from a hole centered in the top. Scattered across the ground were several empty canisters, two marked with a skull and crossbones on a bright yellow field. "Pete, no!" she screamed as Peters dropped a handful of brown pellets into the smoking hole. A yellow beam leaped from the ebony colored tube, striking the polyhedron's side. Immediately, an intense flash of yellow spread across the faceted surface and as Gerry was picked up and flung through the air, the polyhedron dissolved in that saffron flare. The thing which had been imprisoned since almost the beginning of time, erupted in an eighty-foot pillar of blazing blue light, crowned by a disk of even light even brighter. It loomed in ethereal splendor in the sudden darkness, for with its bursting forth, the noonday sun had snapped off like turned-off bulb. The creature swirled and spun in awful, alien glory as Gerry and Peters both screamed and flung their hands up over their eyes. 117 There was a wave of colossal exultation, a joy vaster than any human joy, an absolute triumph as the creature flashed upward into the heavens like a lightning bolt of blue. And as it did so, Gerry's darkening brain failed and she staggered into blissful, thank-you-so-much-God unconsciousness. FIVE Gerry opened her eyes to the bright noonday light. It streamed through the window beside her and flooded the cabin. Somewhere nearby, the breathless, self-important voice of a female radio announcer blared from her alarm clock radio. It was the only radio Gerry had at the cabin; she had no TV. As she lay there unmoving, un- remembering for the present time, the breathless voice hurried on: "As far as can be told, the area affected extended from Montreal to the north, as far south as Scranton, Pennsylvania, and from Buffalo in the West to some miles out into the Atlantic Ocean beyond Boston. "It lasted less than ten seconds," the announcer said, "but in the affected area there was a complete absence of sunlight and a complete loss of electricity. Every piece of machinery in the area ceased to function. Cars, trucks--airplanes!--everything went completely dead!" Gerry sat up with a start, experiencing a sudden, overwhelming feeling of dread. "Four aircraft did crash," the announcer continued, "but luckily, none were commercial airliners and only two suffered a loss of life. One, a twin engine Cessna Skyplane crashed on takeoff from Massemeequa County Airport in upstate New York--" Gerry swung her feet out of the bunk and onto the floor. "--the other a Gulfstream jet came down several hundred feet short of the runway. Authorities with the National Transportation Safety Board say--" "Take it easy," Peters warned. Looking up to find him leaning out the kitchen doorway-- he had an achingly sunburned face and on his hands too!-- Gerry gasped in relief. She had somehow forgotten not only where she was and why she was there, but that Peters even existed. Attempting to get up, she let Peters push her back into a seated position. "I mean it," he said, softly but firmly. "Stay put." Gerry realized she was sunburned as well. "What happened?" she said. Peters observed her carefully. "What do you remember?" Gerry described her awful dream. "It wasn't a dream," Peters said. From the clock radio across the room--was Peters actually standing there in her apron and holding a dishtowel and plate?--the announcer finished up: "No one yet knows the cause of this amazing event, although some scientists say it it may be due to freak solar activity or some sort naturally occurring phenomena. Of course, the psychics and the doomsayers are having a field day..." Gerry clung to the edge of the bunk, feeling as though she might fall off. She was unaccountably famished and thirsty--thirsty in particular---and her tongue felt like a sand dune. "Why did you do it?" she demanded. Peters did not blink an eye. "You could have killed every person on Earth," she accused. Still, Peters did not say a word. "Pete!" "You don't know..." he said, finally. "Know what?" "How long you were in there." Gerry was caught up short. "What do you mean?" "What day is it, Gerry?" Gerry looked around in consternation. "Well, uh... Wednesday?" Peters shook his head. "Friday." Now Gerry really was confused. "Did you think I just clapped my hands and the ingredients appeared?" Peters asked. "What?" "The piping and the chemicals and the Ebonite rods." Gerry remembered the homemade-looking gadget. "I thought--" "I didn't bring the stuff with me, Gerr." Peters sat down. He put his arm gently around her waist and snugged her up to him. "When you first disappeared--" Gerry's eyes opened wide. "--I almost went into a panic. I picked up a hammer and started trying to break into the case." He laughed bitterly. "The creature said that I might as well attack a planet with a toothpick." Tears formed in his eyes and then he began to cry. "Pete," she said, taking his face in her hands. "What happened? Tell me." "It was going to keep you in there, Gerr," he sobbed, expressing it with such sorrow that Gerry's heart broke. "Until the end of time if I didn't get it out!" Gerry suddenly understood why the world had stopped existing beneath her feet and why it had just as suddenly reappeared. Nothing--nothing imaginable--could frighten her more than that. "It said it had you inside a protective oxygen shell, but that the oxygen would last only a short time. Once it was gone, in order for you to live, it had to convert you into an energy form similar to itself, and then you could never come back. Releasing you would release your converted energy." Gerry tried to imagine what one hundred and two pounds-- probably not quite that much now--of Gerry Abrams released as pure energy would do. "I had barely twenty four hours to find the materials I needed, and get the device built." "Pete, it's all right," she whispered, but Peters went on. "The graphite and the carbon and the Reagent grade chemicals were easy to find. But I had to fly in the Ebonite all the way from Turkmekistan, Gerr--it had to be a perfect grade. Then I had to hire someone to polish it and bore out the center and if it had broke. . ." "Pete! It's all right!" she insisted. Hitching air into his lungs and clutching both of Gerry's hands in his own, Peters struggled for breath. Finally, after half a dozen deep breaths, he said: "The thing let you out five seconds before I triggered the device. If you had been inside. . ." Peters shuddered. Gerry understood for the first time how much she really loved this man. She kissed him on the mouth. "So that's why I had to pee so bad," she joked, touching her forehead to his. Shakily, Peter laughed. "That's why you're not wearing the same pants." "I'm not wearing pants at all," Gerry said. "I'm sitting here in my panties." "I changed those too," he said. Gerry laughed. Then she kissed him again. Then they made love. * "So where did he go?" Gerry asked, sometime later. Peters breathed deeply by her side. "To join his own." Gerry looked out the cabin window into the vast blackness of space. "That's a long way," she whispered. "A long, long way. Do you think he'll ever succeed?" Peters shrugged. "Eventually. He is immortal." Gerry lay looking out the window, considering. "So everyone has it wrong. About the universe, about the Big Bang, about life itself." "Yes," Peters muttered. And then, rolling Gerry atop himself and drawing up her legs, he filled her first with the fountain of life, and then with life itself. THE END ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of the hands of children. They should be outside playing in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Kristen's collection - Directory 22