12/21/08

The Legend of The Seximillion Dollar Man: The Virus Ends Here!

It seems that every time it is passed on, it gets stronger. Randal, as he was formerly known, became the unfortunate recipient of the Splotchy Story Virus (V3) one too many times, by my own hand I am afraid to say. We may all be sorry for what we have done, as he is now... The Seximillion Dollar Man!

Here's what I would like to do. I want to create a story that branches out in a variety of different, unexpected ways. I don't know how realistic it is, but that's what I'm aiming for. Hopefully, at least one thread of the story can make a decent number of hops before it dies out.

If you are one of the carriers of this story virus (i.e. you have been tagged and choose to contribute to it), you will have one responsibility, in addition to contributing your own piece of the story: you will have to tag at least one person that continues your story thread. So, say you tag five people. If four people decide to not participate, it's okay, as long as the fifth one does. And if all five participate, well that's five interesting threads the story spins off into.

Not a requirement, but something your readers would appreciate: to help people trace your own particular thread of the narrative, it will be helpful if you include links to the chapters preceding yours. (Yea, but I'm ending it, unless either Splotchy or Randal has Super-Ambition™ to do otherwise with it.)


The bus was more crowded than usual. It was bitterly cold outside, and I hadn't prepared for it. I noticed that a fair number of the riders were dressed curiously. As I glanced around, I stretched my feet and kicked up against a large, heavy cardboard box laying under the seat in front of me. (Splotchy)

I couldn't believe my eyes. Surrepticiously, I tried to establish, without giving it away, if anyone else had seen what I had. For ten years I had been looking for that box. What looked like an ordinary cardboard box to most contained something most precious. Only by the small golden "P" was I able to identify what I was looking at. (Freida Bee)

How the box got here, or how I happened to be on this bus with it now--these questions were immaterial. I just had to get that box. The bus slowed to a stop, so I steadied myself. Just as I was about to make a grab for the box, however, it moved. Someone else was picking it up to take it away! I had to stop her! (Dguzman)

What? This couldn't be happening--to get this close and watch some quick-footed little dwarf just up and snatch it away from me...no! I got up and just as I did the sweaty hillbilly in front of me stood up and stepped into the aisle. Moving like a bad mime imitating a man in a box he extended his arms and stretched, looking up at the ceiling as he did so. The dwarf with the box--I couldn't be sure if it was a man or a woman, but something about her seemed feminine--slipped out the front door and off the bus. I took a deep breath and slumped back down into my seat. (Bubs)

I sized up the chances of getting bodily fluids on me for a few seconds before I decided to risk it. I needed to get that box back.

"Sir, do you think I could get past you?" I ventured, standing stiffly, hoping to move near the front door to catch a quick exit at the next stop.

"Ah's gettin' off a' tha nex' stop," he said as he wiped his brow and placed his hand squarely on my shoulder.

"Well, fuck," I thought, getting more and more irritated each second his residual touch seemed to burn itself permanently into the fabric of my sweater.

"I need to ask the bus driver about the next stop, really quickly. Do you mind?"

I could see he was challenged. His size alone made the bus an unfortunate place for him to endure, but I was concerned I would not be able to catch up with the thief who stole my box this time.

"Sir, I really just need to be ready to step off the bus as soon as it stops," I said irritatedly now, as the bus jerked to a stop in its typically abrupt manner.

I fell forward smack dab into his chest, catching a whiff of a strange smell that simultaneously made me gag and feel groggy only moments before I felt my head spinning as he caught my fall, grinning knowingly.
(Freida Bee)

A maelstrom, an undulating circle of dwarven moustaches twirling faster and faster, was the last thing I saw before I passed out. Or at least that's what I seemed to recall upon waking up -- and it had to be the truth for I hadn't taken a hit of acid since the Great Acid Scare of '78, which later became a major made-for-television event starring Christopher Plummer, Fred Gwynne and a young and vivacious Halle Berry.

Upon regaining my sense of direction, I directed my eyes directly around the room. I saw neither the ordinary cardboard box with the golden "P," the miniature thief nor Halle Berry.

What I did see in the wretched gloom that would have otherwise been black as pitch if not for the faintest light whose source I couldn't locate despite using the entire repertoire of my faculties was a series of immense, framed images on the wall whose dull sepia tones were so reminiscent of a daguerreotype yet were obviously painted -- painted with violent, erratic strokes as if applied, not by a brush, but with a quivering tentacle.

I also saw that I was lying on my back on something large, flat and comfortably plush. And that I was tied up. And that I had been stripped of all my clothes.

"Admiring the Order's past presidents, are we?"

Half-expecting -- for when can one fully expect anything when faced with a frightening yet alluring oddity such as the situation I found myself in -- that broken voice spewing forth its hideous patois, deeply stirred were my loins when I heard instead the sultry sound of a woman.

The nauseating stench of greasy, sweaty hillbilly was nowhere to be sniffed either, in its place a lovely, yet understated perfume reminiscent of wildflowers on the steppe.

"Ouch!""Oh, so sorry dearest," said the sultry voice from an unseen mouth in the darkness engulfing everything save the taper of a single finger and its radioactively neon nail drawing blood from my bare chest.

I blinked. And there she was, her unnaturally green eyes piercing me, her breath rolling over my mouth as she moved to speak, causing me to shiver despite its warmth; whether from fear or arousal, I was afraid to know.

"You really must save every last drop of strength." Her lips brushed against mine as she languorously formed each syllable, moving away as quickly as they came. A kiss from this strange woman, for that is what I now wanted, along with an answer as to why, would have to wait.

"For the wild, cosmic sex orgy?," I nervously deadpanned in a feeble attempt to avoid solving my unspoken query.

"You watch too many made-for-television movies. If you had watched too many made-for-cable movies, my sweet, sweet morsel, you'd know that you're destined for something much greater."
(Randal Graves)

With that she approached me, naked, bound, and vulnerable, and had the gall to tell me to relax.

"Would you relax if you were in my position?" I inquired. I wasn't sure why, but I wanted this woman as my ally, likely because she seemed to be in charge, but there was something about her....

"I have been in your position," she said reflectively and sighed. "You'll get through this, but the more you resist, the more painful it will be. I suggest you relax to whatever extent you can. It's going to be a long week."

"A week!?!" I started to protest just before she leaned forward slowly enough to give me pause.

She kissed me earnestly and whispered, "Shhhh. It's going to be fine." And then, she gagged my mouth against my protests.

"I can't think with all this noise, and you do not want my administration of the formula to go wrong, I can assure you of that."

She proceeded to mix up some sort of concoction that turned neon instantly, like those glowsticks I used to play with in my childhood. She worked for a while behind my back where I could not see her for a really long time, before she was again standing beside me. I pleaded her with my eyes to remove the cloth covering my mouth, but she only smiled as she injected the neon poison, no doubt, directly into the vein in my arm.

And then she left the room.

What happened next is a big blur, but I know I began to feel like I was sinking into myself, into the plush table and vanished into a dreamlike state.

After a long period of complete, pitch darkness, she approached me.

"Am I dreaming or is this real?" I asked her.

"What do you mean by real?" she mocked. "Do you always question your destiny?"

"Are you going to answer all of my questions with questions?" I asked, feeling more desparate to get back to the library. I was only on my lunch break. I hoped that the fellow I had recently hired to cover some shifts while the employees were on vacation would be alright on his own.

"Are you merely going to worry about those petty matters? she asked pointedly, assuring me she knew exactly what I was thinking.

Of course, it was then that I noticed that she was wearing next to nothing.

"You would see me that way," she said accusingly even as she approached me. "What is it that you want?"

We stood there for a very long time. As I thought of what the answer to her question might be, my mind reeled. I saw my life flash before me. I saw the love, the injustices, the missed opportunities. All of it. I felt my breathing deepen and speed. I felt my heart thumping in my chest so hard it woke me up to the room.

The restraints were digging into my arms and legs more deeply than I'd previously recalled, and I was again aroused.

I felt something tickle my abdomen. "What is that?" I wondered. It felt nice.

I moved it.

It was me.

"My penis did not do that before." Am I growing a tentacle?"

I started to panic.

That was when the pain began. I felt as though acid (and not the kind from the Great Acid Scare) was coursing through my veins. It started in my arm and traveled through my entire body. My entire body burned and I started perspiring perfusely. My sweat stung my body. When I felt the burning race through my brain, it was so tortuous that I ripped my arms right out of their restraints.

And, it stopped.

I looked around again. Though the room was dark, I was able to see everthing in it in the clearest of detail. That is when I saw her standing in the darkened part of the room.

"What now?" I asked.

I had been anxious to leave, but the urgency diminished every second I was free.

"What is your name?" I asked the woman.

As she approached me, she pulled some sort of robotic eye out of her head. I am Lindsay Wagner. The Bionic Woman. Have you heard of me?"

"You're gay, right?" I instinctively asked, instantly regretting it.

"Do you know who you are?" she asked expectantly.

"I guess that would make me Lee Majors, The Six Million Dollar Man." I quipped sarcastically.

I started to think that this woman was a lunatic... until she pulled out the box with the "P" on it.

"How did you get the box?" I asked her accusingly.

"Patricia asked me to give it to you just before she died. It was me who handed it to you at her funeral"

"That wasn't you."

"Yes, it was, before my own transformation."

She opened the box and reveavled what looked like a Halloween costume of some sort with an "S" on the front.

"Are you telling me I'm Superman, now? Woman, you are a lunatic."

I started for the front door, half-way hoping that I might actually have some super powers after all I'd been through.

"If you leave now, you will not be able to complete the work Patricia started, the work she asked me to finish."

I stopped and turned to her.

"You have been transformed into The Seximillion Dollar Man. Do you think I would do such a thing for no reason?"

I noticed that, as she neared me, my arousal became more and more pronounced. She plugged her Bionic eye back into its socket and took off the robe that, as she got nearer, I noticed was the very same one I'd seen in that Victoria's Secret catalogue I'd stolen out of my neighbor's mail slot the week before.

She opened my pants to reveal my penis. I tried not to stare when I noticed how much longer and fuller it seemed. She made that easy to do by easing the entire thing into her mouth and down her throat like only a bionic woman can.

She led me to the plush table and tied me back up. "Kinky," I thought, as I laid, awaiting my "fate." I chuckled as I thought of my previous aversion to the word.

"Stay focused, Seximillion Dollar Man," Lindsay said as she slipped her amazing Bionic Cunt down onto my newly Sexified Cock and fucked me slow and hard until I once again melted into the table with a more amazing orgasm than I had ever even fathomed was possible.

As I came to, I noticed I was back in the pitch darkness. Lindsay was there, but this time she was stading next to a hideous, though admittedly sexy, creature and Patricia!

I felt such a mix of happiness and guilt. I had missed her so much all those years.

"Stop with your sentimentality," she snapped. There was no doubt that this was her. She was such a scientist, a pragmatist. Tears of joy came to me.

"You were always such a romantic. Don't you see what's going on here?"

"Uh. No. Not really. Can you explain it to me?"

"When you thought I died, I really wasn't in a car accident. I was trying to develop a DNA formula that would enable women to be able to reproduce without male sperm."

"Oh. Why would you want to do that?" I asked, starting to feel a little nervous that I hadn't been paying more attention to the hideous creature standing next to her than I was.

"Cthulhu here is a Mormon and he is the most powerful creature in this part of the galaxy. He has been working for over 2000 years to try and make all human women immortal, and able to genetically reproduce for him, so that they can, all of them, be his wives. He was really close long ago, but Jesus turned out to be male. He mastered the science of Diety/ human reproduction, but it has taken him this long to insure that all of his offspring would be female."

Lindsay then added, "Patricia volunteered to be the one to take in the formula experimentally, back in the 70's and it did work to make her immortal, but she was not able to reproduce. We have been working here in Cthulhu's lab ever since perfecting the formula. We think we have."

Patricia placed the male formula in the box with the "P" all those years ago, but was not allowed to administer your alterative formula wastefully. Since she made the formula specifically to match your DNA, we had to use it on you, but she was not allowed to see you all this time, as there is no way she would have been able to resist the temptation to administer the formula simply for the sake of pleasure."

"Yes dear, Cthulhu has not allowed his wives to have sex for pleasure, except with him... and each other. Lindsay and I have been lovers for many years. That is why I wanted her to be the one to take the new injection and carry your Super Sperm."

"My Super Sperm?"

"Yes, the injection altered your DNA and you will now be our modern day 'Adam.' According to our calculations, if you are kept alive until the age of 150, you could impregnate about 100,000 bionic women at a rate of 3 a day," Lindsay informed. "But, Cthulhu will only allow you to fulfill his will, as a favor to Patricia, if you are compliant in the matter and do not try to alter the course of history he has set into motion."

Patricia looked at me hopefully. As much as I hated to be a part of the extinction of the males of the human race, I really didn't see that I had much choice in the matter.

6 comments:

Utah Savage said...

Now that's a great ending. I have scared the hell out of a lot of men by predicting their almost total extinction and us ruling females to select one or two breeding specimens, as they produce so many potential little women in one squirt, we won't need many of them. Oh the horror I see in their eyes. I say, they've had their chance as masters of the universe and have fucked it up so bad, we now need to take over.

But whatever you do Freida dahllink, kill this fucking virus now.

Randal Graves said...

Bloody hell, that's ingenious. Wait, you're going to kill all us dudes off. Wait, I'm the Seximillion Dollar Man, I don't care.

M.Yu said...

More, more!

I see an HBO series in the making...

Anonymous said...

I love your genius storytelling skills.

Splotchy said...

I predict much soreness for the protagonist.

Don Snabulus said...

Easy cum, easy go.