A War of Phantoms

With one last simultaneous gasp of pure pleasure, our conjoined bodies all collapsed onto the bed, cocks slipping out of wet holes and limbs becoming lovingly entangled, Natasha sandwiched between Takeshi and me. I managed to have enough presence of mind to pull the covers up over all three of us before my eyes closed and I was claimed by sleep.

***

I had a vague awareness of dreaming, half-formed images of wings sprouting from my naked shoulders and my leaping upwards into the sky, before an entirely new sensation took overwhelming precedence -- a warm mouth enveloping my hard cock.

My eyes slowly opened, and a mane of golden hair filled my view, bobbing up and down in time to the wonderful feelings I was experiencing. I let myself just soak in the sensuality of it all. She seemed to be enjoying herself, so who was I to interrupt? But as I watched her, a strange new thought arose. She was a Phantom Rider, like me. At some point, we were likely to come to blows -- real ones, not just a get-to-know-you spar like yesterday. If she wanted to earn whatever her big impossible wish was... I had to die. I'd fallen asleep in her arms, and since she woke up before me, she could have very easily killed me in this bed. Even if he'd been awake -- I could hear him quietly snoring to my left -- Takeshi wouldn't have lifted a finger to stop her, much less avenge me. She could have snapped my neck, smothered me with a pillow, slit my throat...

But she hadn't done that. Quite the opposite in fact.

I already thought of her as someone I could trust. If I hadn't, I wouldn't have let myself get balls-deep in her last night. But that realization, of what she'd chosen not to do despite having every reason in the world to kill me with minimal effort and trouble -- that's what really cemented in my mind that she was absolutely sincere about being allies. Knowing that, now I was too. I had her back and she had mine, I had no doubt in my mind.

I reached down to caress her soft hair. "Hi there."

Natasha looked up, my length falling from her lips. "Hello yourself. For some mysterious reason, I'm all sweaty and sticky." She laughed quietly and took a moment to lick across my testicles as she stroked my length. "Takeshi's still out cold, poor fellow. I think we wore him out. If you come with me right now into the bathroom, I'll have you bend me over and fuck both my hungry pussy and my cock-craving ass for a bit before we get properly cleaned up. Sound like a plan?" I loved the sound of her voice, and who could say no to an invitation like that?

"FUCK ME! GOD! YES! HARDER!" For all that last night's menage a trois was a quiet and wordless affair, Natasha was not silent this morning as she was bent over and holding the sides of the bathroom sink. After first starting right in with plowing that ass for a bit, I was now thrusting deep into her folds with wild abandon, and she gave every indication that she was loving every second of it, pushing back to meet me on every penetration and screaming her head off with delight.

"Damn, Natasha!" I slapped the side of her buttocks and drove in again. "Loving this, fuck yes!"

"Every day, Morgan! Every night! UNGH!" Her face in the mirror was one I'd never forget, a perfect picture of sexual joy. "Push that cock anywhere you want, jam it in hard! I want to feel your seed dribbling down my inner...yes, right there! ...Down my inner thighs inside my armor while we're back to back fighting remnants and other Riders!"

I reached underneath her body to pinch the hood of her clit. "Does Takeshi get to join in?"

I could feel her body shaking inside, a good sign. "Absolutely! So glad you don't seem to be the jealous type, and... UNNGH! Life's too short! I like you both, I want you both, I'll keep on fucking you both. If you've got an issue, that's your problem, not mine. YES! Right there! Harder!"

"I don't think any of us are going to have a problem with that." I paused to concentrate on her tight velvet fist around me, and as her climax hit, I let my own body go with the flow. This orgasm was a mellower one for me, less intense than last night's orgy -- ironic, considering how hard I'd been ramming her this morning. Didn't mean I enjoyed this hot fuck any less, far from it. I could get used to this.

We finally disentangled, and I climbed into the tub. "Care to join me in hygiene?"

"No no." Nathasha waved me off. "If I get in that tub with you, I won't be able to keep my hands off you, and you'll be pinning me against that tile wall with your cock in record time. Get cleaned up, I'll go after." I couldn't really argue against that logic, so I grabbed my body wash and stepped under the hot spray alone. I really was sticky all over, so I soaped up everywhere I could reach, pleasantly imagining what it would be like for Natasha to spread lather all over me with her strong hands.

A few minutes later as I was rinsing the shampoo out of my hair, I heard a loud thump -- but it was then immediately followed by laughter, so I paid it no mind. I finished my shower, and went at my face with my razor while my stubble was still damp and relatively soft. A little deodorant and anti-perspirant, some tooth-brushing, and voila -- hygiene achieved. I stepped out of the bathroom, still as naked as the day I was born -- and was greeted by the sight of a pile of pillows and blankets on the floor at the foot of the bed, with Takeshi and Natasha rutting like happy rabbits in that fabric pile, his back to me and her legs scissored around his waist as he gave her a good old-fashioned missionary screw. I leaned against the wall as I watched with a smile, feeling my cock stir yet again.

"Takeshi, deep, yes, like that, good good good..."

"You still want me to cum in your mouth, blondie?"

"I need it, yes! Cum in my mouth, I want to taste it, I want to swallow it, I wan-MMPH!" In accordance with her request, Takeshi had quickly climbed up her body and shoved his length down her gullet, much like I'd done last night. I remembered how good that felt, to have her deepthroating me as I came, and looked down to see Natasha spread her legs open wide as Takeshi fucked her face. I couldn't resist -- I was on my knees between those thighs and had my cock back inside that lovely pussy one more time. While Natasha squealed in delight at my intrusion, Takeshi looked back over his shoulder at me. "Man, we are never going to get anything done at this rate." I laughed at that, but that didn't stop me from spending the next fifteen minutes nailing Phantom Rider Crush to the floor while Takeshi got his own shower done.

"I swear...deeper, deeper...FUCK yes... I swear I'm not normally like this."

I had her practically bent double, her ankles on my shoulders as I leaned in to give her a tender kiss, my cock still deep inside her. "Do you see me complaining?"

"I've just... it's been awhile --- ohhhhhhhhhh yeah, keep that up --- and even in my crazy college years, I've never had two men at once like that. I think I could get used to having two cocks in me, oh yes. I'm turning into some sort of insatiable sex monster."

I chuckled, keeping my pace in and out at a steady rate like she'd asked. "I beg to differ. Sex GODDESS, not monster." I kissed her again, and palmed one of her beautiful bosoms. "So you like it when I watch you fuck Takeshi, or when he watches us go at it?"

"It's heaven, almost as good as having both of you in me together. Why do you ask?"

"Because we have an audience right now. Millions of people on some other dimension that Kanzaki comes from are filming us through some hidden cameras every moment of our lives as Riders, remember? You've become a celebrity for an entire civilization, gorgeous. Can you imagine all these strangers, watching you getting your ass filled with my cum, jerking themselves off at the screams you make when you sit on Takeshi's cock? You're beautiful, Natasha -- and everyone knows it. You're a goddess, and your insatiability just makes you even more amazing. Embrace it."

Her eyes had gone wide as I said all that, the implications hitting her -- and at those last two words, she screamed with joy, clutching me to her as pussy spasmed one more time around my length.

We did eventually all get cleaned and dressed, honest. Even the horniest of horndogs eventually need breakfast.

***

As the three of us sat together in the hotel restaurant, devouring plates full of waffles, scrambled eggs (with cheddar cheese), bacon, and sausage links, Natasha and I were both fiddling with our advent phones. "Natasha, how did you find us, anyway?"

She smiled and showed me her GPS app. "There's settings on here where you can track the locations of all other riders, although it's not precise." Her screen showed a map of the surrounding area, with only two dots on it, each on marked with our respective Rider icons. "I know you're sitting right here, but according to the app, you could be as far as a mile away. No one else is around right now, but I have it set to give me a notification alarm any time a rider first gets within five miles of me. Here, I'll show you how I set that up."

As we finished up that bit of tech instruction, Takeshi wolfed down another glass of orange juice. "I think I know where Trebuchet and our local jerkfaces are going to hit." He pulled up his own phone, although his was just a regular smartphone, no alien tech. "The Emerald Fang have real issues with women. Turns out that a few blocks away there's a Women's Health Center right next door to a bookstore that specializes in works by and for lesbians and transgender women. They're both owned by the same two women, in fact."

Natasha nodded. "So you think that's where these remnants are going to hit next?"

Takeshi flipped through a manilla folder from his briefcase. "It fits their style. They shot and killed six and injured a dozen more at a women's poetry group in St. Louis two months ago, and two months before that, they made a bomb threat against a gay bar owned by a lesbian couple in Chicago. Two months before that one, they walked into a health food store in Cincinnati and shot the place up with energy sidearms using Diamond Throne Armada tech, which is what got them on our radar to start with. They hit a target, scatter and hide, take a few weeks to get their bearings, recruit new fodder, work themselves up into a misogynist froth, and then hit the next target. Lather, rinse, repeat. We managed to catch one of 'em in St. Louis, and he spilled that Galena was the next prearranged hiding spot. It's been two months. They're due."

"Makes sense." Natasha took another bite of her waffle. "So why don't I have my own Plex agent? What makes Morgan so special?" She shot me a wink. "Not that I mind your company at all, Mister Wakamoto."

Takeshi slipped his folder back into his briefcase, and with a tap on his wristwatch's screen, the briefcase disappeared the way my motorcycle did when I was done with it. "We had more information about Morgan, since he's ex-military, and knew that he was someone we wanted to support. We got notice from Kanzaki several days later right after he recruited you, and our intel team hadn't yet made a determination about you."

She leaned forward, deliberately flaunting her scoop-neck blouse's display of her gorgeous cleavage as she whispered. "Are you going to get in trouble for repeatedly and expertly fucking me?"

Takeshi laughed, and playfully tossed a wadded-up straw wrapper right down her shirt, which made her lean back and fish the piece of paper out while making a mock-annoyed face. "No, it's fine. I'll get ribbed about it from some colleagues, but to hell with them, I don't regret any of what we did. I want to be there for both of you, as much as I can -- and aside from the joy of your company, the three of us are going to be an amazing remnant-hunting machine together."

I was looking over the "phantom flyer" app, and found a customization menu for not only the bike, but also my helmet and motorcycle leathers. I could add numbers, images, colors... An idea started forming. "We want to keep this battle off the street, and we want to hit them before they attack. Do these guys know what Phantom Riders are?"

Takeshi shook his head. "Not that I know of."

"Okay. I think I've got an idea on how to get them to lead us right to their hideout." I dabbed at my lips with a napkin. "On that subject - what's the rules of engagement regarding these cultists?"

"Give them a chance to surrender. If they lay down arms, then the FBI -- who are on their way to clean up after us -- will take them into custody with the help of local law enforcement, once we've confiscated their weapons. If the Emerald Fang opens fire on you or any civilians, we are fully authorized to use lethal force. If you can disable them without killing them, that's always good. But quite frankly these are domestic terrorists who have murdered civilians before and will again. Don't give them a chance to kill anyone else. That goes triple for Count Trebuchet, who will stand out because of his blue-tinted skin and weird gold-purple hair. If he so much as picks up a weapon, you take him out immediately."

Natasha sighed. "It's funny. I spent seven years as a mercenary, with all that entails, hoping to learn what I needed to make things right. I had given up and gotten out of that game when Kanzaki found me and gave me one last chance. I didn't expect I'd be drawing blood again, but here I am."

I put my hand on hers. "What needs to be made right?"

She squeezed back and looked down at her plate. "To be blunt, there's a certain woman I need to kill. She hurt my mother, all but destroyed everything our family was and had, and all the good mum had done and worked so hard for. Because of that woman, we were forced to leave our home in Australia and move here so many years ago. But that bitch is protected. There's no way I can get to her - not through the law, not through anything else. But if I survive this Rider War, I will have carte blanche to walk right through her army of guards in my bulletproof Phantom Rider armor and make her pay for what he did." She took a deep breath. "And you?"

I reached into my wallet and pulled out a photo. "This is Morris, my little brother. Without Kanzaki's help, he'll die a slow and painful death from a brain tumor. He's a good man -- better than me. He deserves a chance at a real life." I looked up into her eyes, and I could see in that moment that we both remembered one simple truth about this situation: before long, one or both of us was going to die. At best, only one of us was going to get what we wanted. One of us might have to kill the other to do it.

My jaw clenched -- and suddenly Natasha stood and pulled me up into her arms, holding me tight with her cheek against mine. I could feel her tears - or were they mine? "We'll figure this out, Morgan." She whispered. "I promise. I promise."

***

An hour later, I was sitting at an outdoor café directly across the street from the "Artemis & Aphrodite Women's Health Center". My phantom flyer bike parked in front of me had been altered by the app to a grey color with black accents, sporting an "iron cross" logo I'd found by googling "Panzer Tank". My riding leathers and helmet now sported the same grey/black color scheme, the helmet resting on my table in front of me next to a plate of steak. The helmet (which was now connected to Takeshi and Natasha's phone and the Bluetooth bud in my ear) also had one other addition -- the numbers "88" in large digits on each side, a dog-whistle among neo-fascists to show reverence for a certain historical asshole named Adolf. Putting that on my gear made me want to vomit, and I was going to get rid of all that fascist crap the very instant I could -- but for now, it was necessary.

I set down my can of "Monster" energy drink and made a show of looking across the street and shaking my head as I flipped through a paperback of "Atlas Shrugged" I'd picked up down the street.

Takeshi's voice in my ear laughed as I took a bite of my steak. "Laying it on a little thick, aren't you?"

I muttered under my breath in response. "You said they were recruiting. I knew guys like this in the service. Big displays of uber-masculinity are what it's all about, and radical incels go hand in hand with fascists. It's pathetic, honestly."

"Nice ride, man. That a Harley?" That was a voice to my left. I slowly turned to look at the speaker. Five foot seven, built but not jacked. Pasty white kid, early twenties, blonde hair buzzed short. Poorly concealed shoulder holster under his denim jacket, knife on one of his boots. Army surplus urban camo pants. Green wolf-head embroidered patch on his left breast, SS lightning bolt insignia on his shoulder. Jackpot and Showtime.

I took a slow sip from my can and set it down, staring right between his eyes. "Damn right that's mine. Custom job. You breathe on it, we'll have serious words."

"It's cool, it's cool -- I'd never touch another man's ride, just saying you got good taste." Fang-boy was nervous, but looked eager. Good.

"Of course I do." I glanced at his shoulder, gave him a nod. "Nice jacket." I turned away, projecting an air of indifference.

"I, ah... I think we've got stuff in common, you know?" The kid circled around to stand in front of me, but at a respectful distance, shoulders slouched.

"I bet you'd like that." I cut myself another piece of meat from my steak.

"I'm serious! I'm an Alpha, like you! People like us, we're supposed to be in charge, not..." He glanced over his shoulder at the Women's Health Center, and a pair of black women walking up to the center's front door. "Not them."

I looked him right in the eye. "You, an Alpha? You've got a good eye, I'll give you that, but you're not on my level. But hey -- ambition's good."

The kid's cheek twitched, and he jutted out his chin. "Maybe Alpha was... presumptuous. But I'm part of something bigger. Something powerful. A pack. We live by the fourteen words, and we strike at our enemies in the holy war that's already started. My name's Tim. The alpha of my pack would welcome someone strong like you."

I nodded with approval. "Fourteen words. Good, Tim. Very good. Call me Panzer. Maybe we do have something to talk about." The 'fourteen words' bit was another neo-fascist dog whistle that turned my stomach to parrot -- but this subterfuge was my idea, my role to play. "I was just passing through this town of tourists and soyboys on my way to some real action in Chicago, but maybe there's something worthwhile here, real men who know what's right." I dropped a hundred on my table and grabbed my helmet. "Let's see this so-called pack of yours, and see if they measure up."

Takeshi was practically giggling in my ear. "The moron actually BOUGHT all that? And now he's going to lead you right to Trebuchet? Jesus Mary and Buddha, Morgan. I can't believe you pulled that stunt off. Okay, Natasha and I will trail from a distance, and the FBI has been warned about what we're about to do, and will wait from a distance."

I followed Tim's car to an old farmhouse on the outskirts of town. I could see a couple dozen men gathered outside -- mostly in their late teens or twenties, but I saw a couple older fellows in there as well. They were all doing some sort of training. Half were paired off for sparring, while others had cans or other rocks set up on fence posts for target practice -- but those weren't any guns I'd ever seen. They looked like something off a movie set -- and they fired bolts of purple light. I relayed that to Takeshi, who swore like a sailor when I told him how there were at least ten of those guns.

I walked past Tim and into the crowd of Emerald Fangs like I owned the place. "So which one of you cucks claims to be the alpha around here? Are any of you actually able to fight, or are you just a bunch of pissy bitches?"