Progenitor Ch. 02

Disclaimer: This is an original work of erotic science fiction. No characters were consciously modelled after any actual people, or publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. Nonetheless, anything which may be construed as such are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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I fully expected to wake up in a hospital, still dying of cancer. Instead, I reawakened into what, last night, I'd convinced myself was nothing more than a dying man's last dream.

I opened my eyes, and immediately winced as a shaft of sunlight slashed across both my eyes. I was in a very nice hotel room, funded in cash by the forgetfulness of a now-pregnant timeshare saleswoman last night. I shifted myself around to sit on the edge of the bed, still unable to believe my freedom from the infirmities of age. Glancing in the mirror, I saw the same alien-built Progenitor body I'd seen for the first time in a hologram just yesterday. Outwardly, I appeared to be just another late-20s or early-30s guy with a bald head and a slight bit of stubble, but my genes carried the human race's next evolutionary leap forward. And it was my job, given by the human race's architects themselves, to spread those genes as widely as I could.

This job doesn't come without its drawbacks, though. The human race, designed to facilitate "genetic upgrades" like me, has a number of mechanisms built into it to ensure my success. The advantages include women lusting after me and men standing aside as their women do so. However, the drawback is that no one can remember me, no matter what I've done. I'm designed so that when I'm gone, the only things I'll leave behind are countless children and these journal entries. I hope that some day, someone reads them. I suspect I'm the first Progenitor since literacy became widespread, and it will be interesting to see whether the persistence of digital media will cause my writings to be remembered forever, or if they'll simply blow away like footprints in the sand.

My stomach growled to remind me that it was 10am and I hadn't eaten. I literally owned nothing but the clothes on my back, which were technically stolen from a group of college kids who won't remember me. The women in the group will have a reminder of me in nine months, but already any memory of me as a person will have faded from their minds. The guys would only have the awareness that a hideously mismatched set of yellow swimtrunks, a mismatched pair of sandals, and a brown polo shirt were missing. I may never have been a fashion plate, but this was just a bit too hideous for me to feel comfortable in.

I resolved that my first order of business would be to get some normal clothes, then decide what exactly I was going to do with my day. I'm sure that if I asked my creators, they'd tell me to forget the clothes and go spread my genes naked. I intended to carry through with my mission, but a human's priorities are necessarily interested in obtaining security before trying to impregnate the entirety of the human race.

I stood up from the bed and put on the hotel bathrobe, then glanced at the pile of cash on the bedside table. It amounted to a little over $600, which would be enough for a few days' subsistence - but I'd need more before I could secure a car and set up an identity for myself. In the meantime, the bathroom was insistently calling me to the first real shower I'd had in my new body.

If I were to say that taking a shower with smooth, toned, unwrinkled skin for the first time in 40 years was inconsequential, I'd be lying. That, and washing a woman's juices off of my manhood was a ritual I'd nearly forgotten. I inhaled Kim's scent one last time before washing her musk off in the shower. I intended to honor her parting request and revisit her over the years, but she would by no means be the only woman to carry my genes. In fact, by my count I had sired five children yesterday already, and I was sure that I could do that several times a day without any significant expenditure of effort.

After getting out of the shower, I decided to put on my clothes (such as they were) and check out. I'd been able to convince the night clerk to let me stay with a $200 cash deposit, which I'm not sure I could've done if the clerk hadn't been a young, fertile female. I distinctly recall having debated whether or not to ask her to my room, but I'd wanted some time to sort things out last night. I'm sure that if I spent another night in the hotel, it would be with her petite red-haired body curled up at my side and a small bulge in her belly.

The clerk on morning duty was male and somewhat surprised to learn about the terms of my room, but he processed my checkout normally and I left without incident. Stepping out of the lobby and into the sunlight, I realized that my first major objective was to find something to wear other than the brown polo shirt and yellow swimtrunks.

I noticed a bus pulling into the stop outside the hotel, with a destination placard that indicated a local mall as its destination. While I've always detested malls, they did represent a fairly easy one-stop shop for mid-range clothing. I resolved that I was going to pick up a cheap suit so that I could blend in with the business casual crowd. My objective was to reproduce with those who are fittest - mentally, physically, or ideally both. My best move would be to turn the local MENSA meeting into an orgy, then go impregnate all the womens' teams at the next Olympics. While I did intend to try that at some point, in the meantime I've determined to have a little bit of fun in corporate America, and thus I needed clothes that'd look reasonably at home in an office. I hopped onto the bus as its doors swung open, paid the driver, and took a seat. There were some very attractive young ladies on the bus, and I had to fight back the instincts telling me to go strike up a conversation with them. Unfortunately, I knew where that road would lead, and it may have lead out of my current clothes, but it wouldn't lead into a suit. Two of the girls made it really hard to resist, though - I could see them checking out my reflection, and not unfavorably. I smiled a little as one of them started to open her mouth as if to say something to me, and her friend pulled her back. If I could bottle and sell Progenitor pheromones, I'd be the richest man alive. The one who nearly talked to me was a pale-skinned brunette with green eyes, a yellow cross-hatched string bikini top, and relatively modest shorts. Her friend looked to be of Indian descent, with dark skin, a toned body, electric blue shorts and a generous bosom confined by a matching sports bra. Both looked like they were in their early 20s.

Just when I was about to lose my self control and start talking to them, the bus pulled up next to the mall and I got out, along with most of the rest of the crowd and the two girls. It was all for the best; I really did need to get situated before resuming my mission to spread my genes to the world.

Stepping into a mall for almost the first time in 20 years was a surprise. The last time I'd gone to one, there was really no such thing as a food court. Moreover, the crowds were a lot more than I was used to and there was no such think as a Montgomery Ward. Nevertheless, I was able to find my way to JC Penney's. Once there, I discovered that I had no idea what the measurements were for my new body.

I asked the nearest available sales associate for assistance, and was greeted by a broad smile. Of course, this associate was female. Mid-20s, bottle-blonde hair with darker undertones, around 5'6" tall, with gray eyes. I was pretty sure the eyes were from contact lenses, but it didn't matter - she was gorgeous. "I'll be happy to get your measurements, sir," she said. While I had no doubt she was used to plenty of male attention, she was nervous speaking to me. I was fairly sure she was getting wet already.

I inwardly sighed - there was no denying my hormones at this point, and I was definitely going to incite a riot at the mall today. I outwardly smiled and said, "Perfect. Would you care to measure me out here, or do we need to go to a fitting room?"

She blushed and stammered out, "I'll be able to get the best measurements in a fitting room, sir."

I knew there was no need for it, but appreciated the attempt at innuendo and smirked a little. "Lead the way, my dear."

I followed her, catching a glimpse of a totally shit-eating grin as she turned away from me. She lead me onward, through the men's department and into the women's... and then through a door near the women's fitting room. The room inside was relatively spacious and triangle-shaped, made up of two walls and a partition crossing diagonally. It also had a row of cloth-covered benches along both of the walls, and a series of hooks fairly high up to hang clothing on.

"This room is for fitting bridal dresses - it's the one room I know for sure there'll always be measuring tape in", she said. She coyly added, "It's also got benches to sit on in case you get tired."

I shrugged and peeled off my shirt. She let out a little gasp, and looked away with a red face. Of course, her attempt at modesty failed miserably as she saw me attack the swim trunks in the mirror, pulling them down and off of me. Her eyes got wide, then she slowly turned her head, unable to take her attention away from what she saw.

"I take it that you won't need the tape to get these measurements?" I inquired.

She stood for a moment, frozen at the conflict between her hormones and what remained of her professionalism. I stepped up and kissed her on the lips, effectively demolishing the last of her objections. She stayed rigid for a moment, then melted into me as if her knees were made of water.

I glanced down at her nametag, Claire, as she started rubbing her leg against me. "Perhaps you had better make sure no one else will walk in?" I asked her.

Claire nodded and pressed the door shut firmly and slammed the lock home, then lowered a privacy screen at the top of the changing room. "We've had pervs trying to take pictures of the dress fitting a while back, you know. Most brides do end up topless at some point in the fitting process," she said.

I smiled and wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her to me. "I can imagine you'd look spectacular wearing only the bottom half of a dress," I said.

She smiled demurely and began to unfasten the buttons on her blouse. "Is a skirt close enough?", she asked. I watched as she shed her coat and blouse, then dropped her bra to the floor as well. She stood before me, arrayed in a full D cup glory with a slender waist and just a few freckles scattered across her upper shoulders and chest. Claire smiled broadly as she snaked her arms around my torso. "Enjoying the view?" she purred.

I cupped my hands around her buttocks and lifted until our waists were touching. Her breasts pressed against my chest, and I kissed her as she started to grind her hips against me. My earlier theories were correct - as her skirt rode up, I could feel her wet sex through the pantyhose she was wearing. I set her down for a moment, and she read my mind - in one fluid motion, the pantyhose and panties were in a wadded heap on the floor, and she jumped back at me like a spider monkey.

It was frantic at first - her dry humping was making me sore, as she rubbed her skirt up and down trying to fish my penis under it and into her vagina. I held her with one arm and lifted her skirt with the other, and felt my reward as her smooth, superheated flesh touched my own. She slid up and down now with slow, determined movements. In a few seconds, I felt my penis pressed up against her wetness. As soon as she felt that we were lined up, she thrust hard and impaled herself on my shaft.

I would be lying if I said I could last long. Claire was absolutely, mind-meltingly hot, and she wanted me badly. I knew what would happen shortly after I came, but frankly I didn't really care too much at this point. This is what I was here to do, and it's what every fiber of Claire's being wanted too. No protection, no pulling out, just wet thrusting and questing until I release my entire load of sperm inside her.

That was my plan, at least. As things moved along, we shifted positions - first I was doing her against the wall, then we went to the floor with her on top. Just as I was about to release, someone started banging on the door. "Claire," called a plaintive British female voice, "you know I've got this room reserved from 2pm onwards!"

Claire could do nothing more than moan, her words escaping her entirely.

"Is she all right in there?" I heard someone ask.

"I'm sure she is, I saw her walk in here a moment ago with a man to take measurements."

I saw a bit of motion at the crack in the door, and winced as I realized they could see in if they got up at the crack. The privacy screen may force pervs to be more obvious and more likely to get caught, but it didn't strictly guarantee privacy.

"CLAIRE?!?" the voice shouted in disbelief.

Claire chose this moment to come to her senses and realize that she was straddling a man she'd just met at work, fucking his brains out.

"Oh my GOD!" she shrieked as she looked down at her skirted regions, "what are we doing?!?" Just as I was about to climax.

I heard a gasp from behind the door and a male voice piped up, "Son of a BITCH!"

Three things happened at once, as if they were in slow motion.

1. Claire's already tight pussy spasmed, clamping down on my shaft and pushing me over the edge so that I shot my first load into her.

2. I saw a gray-haired but still massive man in his late 40s smash his way through the flimsy fitting room door.

3. I got a view of the bride-to-be, two of her bridesmaids, and Claire's British co-worker, all gasping in astonishment.

The man - whom I assumed was the father of the bride - placed his hands on Claire's shoulders and pulled her away as I shot another load of semen, part of this one arcing through the air and still mostly landing inside Claire's still-eager pussy. She may have come to her senses, but her body still knew exactly what I was and was begging for my children. My penis, on the other hand, was pretty annoyed to be cold all of a sudden as I slipped and fell, my butt squarely hitting the ground on top of our discarded clothes.

Now that I was uncovered, the man - who was built like a retired boxer - glared down at me with a look of sheer disgust and contempt. I didn't exactly blame him, considering the lowlife he mistook me for. For that matter, I'm not really so certain that I'm not one at this point. But my body was still doing what came naturally, and I was still oozing sperm from my retracting penis onto my pubic region. He raised his foot, and I was sure he was about to stomp on me - then slowly put his foot back down with a bewildered expression. I raised my head experimentally, and watched as he backed off to the corner of the room and stood there. I looked over at the shocked girls, and noticed they weren't looking so shocked anymore. In fact, they were starting to look very interested in what was going on.

I sighed and pointed at the bride. "You're first," I said.

The bride was around 5'10" - 30ish, brown-haired and statuesque, already wearing her wedding dress. This was apparently a fitting session for the bridesmaids. She hesitated for a second, then stood over me and squatted down, centering my manhood under her dress and reaching up underneath. I felt her fingers on my semen-covered manhood, which served as lubrication as she used my penis to push aside her panties and then guided me inside her. I watched her face as she bottomed out on me, driving me up inside of her as far as she could go. Claire, over in the corner, was watching in rapt fascination. I didn't know how long that would last, but I was going to make this count. I reached up and ran my hands under her dress, feeling her legs flex as she squeezed my cock. "What's your name, bride?", I asked.

"Sarah", she panted out. "Yours?"

"You can call me daddy", I answered. She started to let out a moan as she orgasmed, but I clamped my hand over her mouth. The bridesmaids were clustering around us, watching intently. "Don't worry, you'll all get your turn", I said. I reached up the back of the bride's dress and unzipped it, hinging the front down so that it slipped down her arms and her breasts spilled out. The few moments we'd been mating had produced a tremendous amount of body heat already, and her sculpture-perfect breasts shimmered with sweat. She shivered and I watched her nipples get erect as I regained my full hardness, pounding inside of her.

One of the bridesmaids let out a moan and, apparently overcome by desire, pulled down her shorts and started to finger herself. She was a mid-20s Latina, medium weight with a slight 'muffin top' showing below her midriff shirt, but certainly attractive. I could see from the stretch marks on her midriff that she'd had at least one child before. She knelt by my side facing me, waiting for her turn as she eagerly strummed her clitoris. I freed up one of my hands, reached under Sarah's dress to touch my pubic region, and slicked two fingers with the sperm that'd dribbled out earlier. I extended my hand to her, and she greedily impaled herself on my fingers, bucking and thrusting as if I had had another penis for her. The other bridesmaid, seeing this, stripped off her own capri's and then her underwear, then laid down on her side and raised her leg to offer me easy access. She was another latina, this one fiery and thin, with a well-gymed physique. I took my left hand, ran it through the remnants of the sperm, and thrust it inside her as well.

The three of us settled into a rhythm for a few seconds - Sarah bucking and thrusting her hips against me, one of her bridesmaids kneeling and embedding my right hand inside her, and the other one holding my hand and guiding it within her like a dildo. This went on for a few moments before Sarah came to her senses.

Suddenly, with both of my hands occupied within her bridesmaids, the bride herself let out a shriek. I thought she was climaxing, when in fact it was actually her noticing Claire. Claire was up against the wall, reacting in horror as her belly began to swell rapidly. I looked up at Claire, already knowing what I'd see - and then looked back down to where Sarah crouched on top of my penis, frozen in time as she saw Claire's belly and realized this would happen to her if I came inside her. Sarah looked down in horror, her eyes locking with mine as I pulled my fingers out of her bridesmaids with a sucking noise. She started to jerk upright, her vagina slipping free of my penis - but I clamped my now-free hands to her hips and pulled, toppling her back down. I shifted my weight and rolled over, pinning her beneath me and cementing our seal. I felt my orgasm starting and I frantically thrust my cock at her vulva, trying to get it back in before I came. She felt the hot splash of my hot ejaculate splash against her vulva and jerked her hips, trying to try to get away - but in doing so inadvertently placed her slick vagina just on the tip of my penis - and pushed.

"SHIT!" she screamed, as she inadvertently took me inside of her and I thrust back, bottoming out inside her as my orgasm reached its climax. Gravity ensured she got inseminated with both the rest of the sperm that had been meant for Claire and the rest I'd worked up with her. The bridesmaids saw what was happening to Claire too, but they were still deep in rut and were looking at us, just pouting that their turn hadn't come yet. At this point they hadn't reached the point right near release where they could see things normally, yet but were powerless to change their destiny. Technically though, they'd probably already had their destiny sealed when I fingered them with the sperm. I held Sarah tight as the last pulses of my sperm drained into her, feeling her magnificent breasts crushed up against me and glistening with the sweat of our endeavors.