TMA: Agent Moon Ch. 01

(Author's note: The idea for this series grew out of a writing challenge I posted on the Author's Hangout, here on Lit. It began as a basic premise of being a government agent who travels back in time to fix changes made by an unknown group called the 'Rectifiers,' and blossomed from there.

The TMA – Temporal Management Agency – is a multi-national organization under the auspices of the United Nations, operating from a hidden base in Nebraska, USA. TMA agents are charged with stopping the Rectifiers whenever and wherever they strike. For unknown reasons, the Rectifiers have targeted moments in history, changing events to suit their own unguessable plans. Little is known about the Rectifiers other than the nature of their agents. They come from the future, that much is certain; beyond that, little else is known.

The agents of the TMA utilize a device called the Temporal Probability/Redundancy Field Generator – commonly referred to as the 'Tap' – to look into and travel to the past. The Tap has several limitations: there is a limit as to how long a person can remain in the past – thirteen days – as well as a limit as to how much mass – 220 kilograms –the Tap can sustain at any certain point in time.

This series uses the premise that time travel is only possible into the past, because finding a point in time to travel to also requires that we know where in space the Earth existed at that moment. It cannot be accurately predicted where the Earth will be in the future, so traveling forward along the timestream is not feasible.

Technical details aside, this series addresses the idea of time travel and what could and shouldn't be changed, if one was able to do so. There are several other authors who have their own series of stories based upon this common idea; I encourage you to look for them in the listing of Sci-Fi/Fantasy stories.)

From the Files of the Temporal Management Agency

Agent Dylan Moon, Case #1

"Director, there's a problem."

Radha Naveen sighed as she blinked open her eyes. Too much to think that I could get away with a fifteen-minute nap, she thought. She eased up from the curved leather couch in her office – a gift from her therapist – and swung her legs to the floor. Tired eyes regarded the young Swede in the blue jumpsuit uniform.

"This better be good," she said.

The young man, impressively tall and muscular, nodded quickly. "Dr. Jasper was, um, pretty animated about it." He spoke with only the slightest Scandinavian accent.

Despite her sense of annoyance, Radha could not help but chuckle at the sentry's words. "Jasper is always animated," she commented. She pushed herself to her feet, wincing at the tightness in her neck. Rubbing the base of her shoulders, she followed the sentry into the halls. The circular tunnels, dug deep below ground, had been painted in soft hues of amber and ochre, the floor green to remind the occupants of the base of grass. Radha had always considered the color scheme of the TMA headquarters a noble, but ultimately useless, gesture.

Respectful greetings met her ears as she followed the sentry. To each salutation of "Director" or "Colonel Naveen," Radha merely nodded, or muttered a non-commital return. She was well-known for her brevity and curtness; no one was insulted by her short responses.

It took only a few turns and a single level's descent before the sentry lead Radha to Looking Glass, where numerous large screens were arrayed about a central hub. Technicians in their grey uniforms were at work upon their terminals as they monitored the flashing images. More so than usual, the activity on the screens seemed very chaotic to the Director. She flinched at the erratic display.

Darting from one terminal to another, and snapping his head back and forth from one screen to another, was Dr. Phineas Jasper. The quintessential mad scientist, Jasper was a tall, lanky man with short-cropped hair the color of a blizzard – which was the best way to describe how the man acted and thought.

"What's going on, Phin?" she called.

He shot up a cautionary hand, not looking to Radha, but acknowledging her presence. "Just a moment," he said, and snapped a few words to the technicians. It was all a ramble of techno-babble to the Director. Mustering her patience – not an easy thing for Radha – she crossed her arms and waited.

Finally, Jasper looked to her, a flustered expression on his face. For Phin, that was normal, but in the five years Radha had known him, she had learned to notice the subtle differences in the doctor's expressions. "It's a major event, Radha," he said. Jasper was one of the few within the Temporal Management Agency who addressed her informally. "We're getting total cascade failure throughout the timestream."

Her surprise was not telling upon her face, save for the raising of a single, thin eyebrow. "'Total?'" she asked.

Jasper huffed. "It's incredible! Ridiculous! Dozens of events throughout time, simultaneously changed!"

Now, Radha did show some concern, stepping forward. "How is that possible?"

"Dr. Jasper," interrupted one of the technicians, a pudgy Argentinian named Cuellar. "We're getting time-locks on every event."

"WHAT!" cried Radha in alarm.

Jasper slapped his hand to his forehead in relief. "Oh, thank God," he sighed.

Radha's flabbergasted expression was clearly readable as she glared at the senior scientist. "What the hell do you mean, 'thank God!'" she snapped. "Time-locks prevent us from heading back to correct the anomalies!"

Jasper chuckled under his breath, planting his hands on his hips. "Think about it, Radha," he said. "What is the only thing that causes time locks?"

Radha frowned, thinking. Then realization spread across her features. "The presence of an agent."

"Exactly," said Jasper. "An agent of the TMA. One we haven't taken on board yet, otherwise we would have been able to figure out who it was through a simple head count."

Radha pursed her lips. "So the Rectifiers have killed a future agent," she mused. "That doesn't make any sense. By killing him, they've erased every mission he'll ever complete. No wonder there's a total cascade failure. So many events in history changed . . . no doubt some of them contradict other events."

Jasper nodded again, observing the scenes. "Well, the good news is that we have thirteen days to find and save him."

Radha gritted her teeth a moment. "And the bad news is, if we don't find him, reality as we know it is going to end."

"Actually, it will have never happened," corrected the scientist.

Radha frowned. "I hate it when you do that," she said.

Jasper snickered quietly. I know . . . .

***

Oh, damn, this is the best fucking blowjob I've ever gotten . . . .

Watching her soft pink lips as they slowly devoured his cock was an inspirational sight, especially considering how she kept her iridescent blue eyes on his while she did it. Not even when the head of his throbbing shaft eased into her throat did Corinna show any evidence of discomfort. In fact, her lips curled in a tiny smile as they wrapped around the root of his cock.

"Jesus," muttered Brandon, stroking the blonde's short, thick hair. The massaging motions of her tongue, combined with the caressing, swallowing action of her throat made for the most sensuous pleasure the young man had ever known.

Keeping her eyes on her lover's face and his cock firmly seated in her gullet, Corinna ran her hands up and down the man's well-defined torso and thighs, lighting up his nerves. She felt his fully-laden balls draw up against her chin, evidencing a premature eruption. Too soon, the woman thought, and slid her mouth back up his shaft, leaving it glistening with her saliva.

"Fuck!" groaned Brandon, writhing beneath her. He arched his back, trying to return his cock to the warm wet depths of Corinna's throat. But with a wicked grin on her slightly-lined face, she pushed him back down, kissing the tip of his cock as it slid free of her lips. Her eyes flashed with interest as his phallus remained standing straight.

"Damn, you're really hard," she commented, fluttering her tongue all around the bulging head. "You really wanna cum, don't you?"

The young man squirmed. "Hell, yeah, I do!" he exclaimed, giving Corinna a pleading look. "God damn, baby, where'd you learn to give such good head?"

Corinna sat up between Brandon's spread legs, a self-impressed smile on her face. Her small breasts still sat high and firm on her chest, thanks to a strict exercise regime. Uncommonly fit for a woman in her late thirties, Corinna Bellew's muscular tone was obvious in her strong arms, lean legs, and flat stomach. The college-aged man beneath her certainly admired her body as his eyes drank her in.

"Well," she said, lightly stroking his slick cock with both hands. "I have been giving blowjobs for about as long as you've been alive, sweetie."

Brandon laughed, but his mirth faded somewhat as he noted the skull-and-dagger tattoo on her left shoulder. "Were you really, like, a commando and all that?" he asked.

Corinna bit her lip, cocking her head as she stroked the young man's phallus in a progressively tighter hand-over-hand motion that had him sighing in pleasure. "Eleven years active duty," she said. "Eighteen Delta."

Brandon frowned. "Eighteen what?"

Corinna winked as she bent over him again. "Special forces, baby," she whispered, then engulfed his cock once more, suddenly sucking hard and fast, bobbing her head up and down. Her hair fluttered around her head like wings, hiding her face from view. But the insistent sucking sounds of her mouth, punctuated by a series of muffled moans, were just as erotic to Brandon as watching her.

"Uhn! Oh! Fuck!" he groaned through clenched teeth, feeling his cock tingle in the woman's mouth. Sorority girls certainly never gave head like this, he knew. He felt only the tight, hot, wet pulling sensations; no teeth at all. Just erotic, velvet smoothness.

Corinna slurped her mouth off his cock, sitting up once again. Her mouth was wet, her face flushed with arousal and the effort she was making. Her eyes blazed with lust as she pumped Brandon's cock rapidly.

"Do you wanna cum, baby?" she asked.

He moaned and managed to croak out a response: "Please!"

Corinna grinned mischievously. "Oh, yeah?" she purred. "And just where do you wanna cum, baby? Where do you wanna shoot your load?"

Brandon trembled at Corinna's dirty talk. He humped his hips up, watching the woman's wet fists pumping up and down. On each upstroke, her thumb rubbed the underside of his crown, making him flinch. "Oh, God," he mumbled, feeling the pressure build.

"Come on, sweetie," cooed Corinna, lowering her head slowly, keeping her eyes on his face. She licked her lips slowly. "Tell me where you wanna do it . . . ."

Brandon huffed, his body tensing, vibrating. "Y-y-yes, do it like that," he said hurriedly.

"Like what?" she whispered hotly, smacking her fists up and down. Her mouth hung open just over his cock.

"Oh, Jesus!" groaned Brandon, arching his back. "Suck it, baby! I'm gonna cum!"

Corinna grinned, loving the way this young man capitulated to her, the way he so desperately needed her to bring him pleasure. He was at her mercy, she knew, and there were times when she loved to draw out the torture, really make them beg. But at the moment, Corinna wanted Brandon's orgasm just as much as he did.

"Uhmm," she moaned, wrapping her mouth tightly around the straining head, stroking the shaft rapidly with one hand while gently kneading his taut testicles with the other. She lashed her tongue around the slit of his cock and kept up a steady stream of yearning moans, all of which heightened Brandon's release to the fullest.

There came an initial warm spurt of musky fluid, and Brandon slapped his hands to the mattress as he cried out in ecstasy. His back arched deeply, but Corinna stayed with him, keeping just the head of his cock in her mouth. She savored the bittersweet flavor of him, then moaned again as a near-torrential flood of thick sperm filled her mouth.

"Oh God oh fuck shit yeah yeah yeah!" babbled the young man, shaking in pleasure. His face held a pained expression as he watched Corinna devouring him, and with the way she sucked and tugged on his now incredibly sensitive cock, the sensations were made exquisitely intense. His cock began burning as Corinna stopped her stroking and massaged the head and first inch with her lips and tongue.

"Stop baby stop baby," he pleaded, reaching for her head with his hands.

Corinna laughed softly through her nose, glowing with pride at how she had reduced this gorgeous Adonis beneath her to a begging, squirming mass of complacent meat. She sat up once more, softly stroking Brandon's softening cock. A long trail of whitish fluid dangled from her pursed lips, then hung off her chin. She didn't wipe it away as she swished Brandon's cum in her mouth, letting it soak into her cheeks. Eventually, the strand snapped, falling onto her upper thigh.

Brandon panted for breath, watching his lover with dazed interest. He had been a little hesitant about letting an older woman pick him up earlier that evening, but now he was incredibly grateful for his good fortune. He doubted he could go back to giggling, inexperienced college girls after this night.

"Shit, you're a kinky babe," he muttered, then laughed drunkenly, letting his head fall back. His vision was blurry, his ears plugged with fluid. He heard little more than the relentless pounding of his own heart, slowly receding with the passing moments.

Corinna laughed through her closed mouth again, then tapped his abdomen to get Brandon's attention. Wearily, he lifted his head, giving the mature beauty a questioning look. Locking his eyes with hers, Corinna made a show of sucking in her cheeks and swallowing the young man's cum. It slithered warmly down her throat, and Corinna sighed, smacking her lips. She stuck out her tongue as further proof that not a drop remained, and grinned wickedly.

Brandon swooned. "Oh, fuck . . . ."

Corinna giggled, then crawled up over the young man, leaving small, soft kisses from his balls to his neck. She didn't try to kiss him on the lips; 21-year-old college kids, in her experience, were none to fond of the taste of their own semen, however slight it might be on her mouth.

"Mmm, that was nice, baby," she whispered in her young lover's ear, brushing his skin with her lips.

"That was . . . incredible . . . what it was," Brandon said with a euphoric laugh. "I'm spoiled for life." He brought up lazy hands and clumsily caressed Corinna's slender body.

She lifted her head and smiled on him, brushing her hair back behind her ear. "Well, I hope you're not done, yet, big boy," she said. "'Cause now you owe me."

Brandon grinned. "Gimme about five minutes, babe," he promised.

Corinna emitted a catlike purr as she stretched atop her young stud, straddling his thighs. She felt the sticky head of his cock against her protruding clit. "Would it help if I told you how I want to fuck you?" she asked.

Brandon shuddered in arousal. God damn, this bitch is hot! he thought. "Tell me."

"Well, first I wanna – fuck!" she exclaimed as she heard the muffled 'Mission Impossible' theme trilling from her jeans laying on the floor of the cluttered apartment. With a huff, she pushed herself up and scrambled off the bed, uncaring in her nudity.

Brandon sat up in alarm. "So do I, babe," he said, watching as the nude woman bent and took up her cell-phone from its pouch on the belt of her jeans. "Hey, come on, Cori. It can't be that imp—" he stopped abruptly, intimidated by the stern look of warning she gave him.

Corinna snapped open the phone and listened. She did not say a word as for about ten seconds, then flipped the tiny device closed. She sighed heavily, then took up her jeans, stepping into them.

"What!" cried Brandon, jumping to the floor. "You're leaving?"

Corinna gave the young man a sheepish look as she snapped her jeans closed around her waist. The aroma of her aroused pussy was still palpable around her. "Sorry, stud, but duty calls," she said simply, snatching up her pale blue blouse and leather jacket.

"Well . . . will you come back later?" he asked, a hopeful look in his eyes.

Corinna smiled patronizingly as she buttoned up her blouse. "Probably not, baby." She slipped her jacket around her shoulders, looked for her flats.

Brandon sputtered, genuinely hurt, blinking in astonishment as Corinna sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her shoes on. "Wh-what . . . what the fuck do you do that they gotta call at eleven-thirty at night and you just gotta go?"

Corinna arched an eyebrow. "I'm not gonna tell you, and you don't wanna know," she said.

Brandon scoffed, rolling his eyes. But the expression on the older woman's face told him she was not joking. He swallowed nervously.

Corinna smiled and stood, nearly as tall as her naked lover. She gave him a peck on the cheek, then impulsively fondled his dangling dick. With a quick squeeze upon his tumescent shaft, she grinned and stepped back. "Maybe we'll catch up some day," she said, opening Brandon's bedroom door. "You still owe me a fuck."

Leaving the young man gape-mouthed and wanting, Corinna headed through the apartment the college student shared with his room mate. There were a couple of other young men on the couch, playing a video game, yet all three abandoned the game and watched Corinna as she strode through the room. There was no doubt that they had heard Brandon through the thin walls as Corinna had pleasured him. Envy was unmistakable in their eyes.

"'Night, boys," she said with a wink, then opened the door and left.

Three pairs of eyes, and three slack-jawed faces stared at the door as it closed. No one noticed Brandon enter the room, sweat pants keeping him decent, until he spoke.

"Now that's a real woman, guys," he said, puffing his chest.

"Damn . . . ." the other three said in unison.

***

The drive from Omaha to the small town of Discovery took about an hour, long enough for Corinna to masturbate to a couple of small, yet essentially satisfying, orgasms to satisfy her insistent libido. Passing through the ghost town that Discovery (population 3,142) was at such a late hour, she finally arrived at a small building surrounded by cornfields, adjacent to a sealed-over missile silo that had been built in the sixties.

The parking lot of the 'Amalgamated Products' building held about two dozen other vehicles, the majority of them the same standard, unimpressive, commonly-seen cars such as Corinna's Celica. There was a reason for that: anonymity. The Temporal Management Agency existed because its members were so mundane on paper so as to escape the notice of anyone looking for them.

With a slightly frustrated grunt, Corinna stepped out of her car and headed to the entrance. While she understood that her life as a TMA agent meant she was entrusted with secrets and responsibility reserved for only a select few, it still irked her that her evening had been interrupted.

Couldn't they have called just half an hour later? Even fifteen minutes would have been enough! Jeez . . . .

She stepped through the revolving glass door at the entrance, knowing that hidden scanners were reading her body heat, mass, and basic molecular composition. Down a garishly-lit hallway she walked, past a security desk that was ever actually manned, to a small door at the far end.

She gripped the stainless steel doorknob, knowing that sensors within it were reading her palm print. It took a few seconds, but then the door unlocked and she found herself in a bare, ten-by-ten-foot room.