Big Dirk Allen and the Tiny Blonde II

The expression on Dirk's face when he burst into the Secret World Security Organization's regional headquarters said it all. His first solo mission had been a success. Tina was so proud of him.

Fac-Tel had warned her it would be a mistake to send Dirk Allen on a real mission. But the super computer's specialties were remote monitoring and logistical back-up. It didn't understand the nuances of the human character. Tina knew the male-model turned agent-in-training was ready. During the previous month Dirk had studied hard and paid attention, two skills he wasn't born with. He learned how to tail a suspect, identify possible weapons based on the bulges in clothing and memorize Tina's lunch order after only hearing it once.

There were also Dirk's natural talents. His wavy, black hair, chiseled abs and glowing smile were assets, but only for aesthetic reasons. What really set him apart were his inhuman speed, strength and stamina. It didn't matter much to Tina that the origins of his powers remained a mystery. She'd had the chance to experience everything he could do and she was impressed.

Tina absentmindedly touched her breast as she remembered exactly what she had experienced with Dirk.

Yes, they'd had sex. It was a work thing. Tina didn't regret it one bit. Thousands of lives were at stake and they'd done what they had to, to save them all. Seeing Dirk naked was a work perk, as were the multiple orgasms. She'd never forget the feel of his large, rough hands on her breasts or how his scorching lips teased her sensitive flesh.

Sometimes at night when she couldn't sleep, she'd think about Dirk and touch herself. Her breath would come in long shuddering gasps as she pictured him between her legs. There was something about his face when he climaxed. His expression was so vulnerable and raw, as if what he was feeling was too intense for him to process. That expression made her want to cradle him in her arms and tell him how much she cared for him.

Which was, of course, strictly on a professional level. She cared for him the way one coworker cares for another. It definitely wasn't more than that. No way. Love was the sort of folly a secret agent couldn't indulge in. Love was a weakness, a weapon that could be used against her. Tina was forbidden by SWSO regulation 96 from falling in love. And that wasn't a problem. Not one bit.

"Agent Allen," Tina said in a professional yet encouraging voice. "Are you ready for your debriefing?"

A smile stretched Dirk's sensual yet manly lips. His sea-foam green eyes sparkled with excitement. It wasn't a particularly difficult mission, a simple reconnaissance and report, yet it was his first mission. The sense of confidence radiating off him lifted Tina's spirits. She couldn't let this momentous occasion pass without recognition.

He took a breath to speak, but Tina held up a hand to interrupt him. "Fac-Tel," she called to the air, "start audio recording for the archives."

"Fine," the AI muttered. It wasn't Dirk's biggest fan and made sure everyone knew it. "Recording, for whatever that's worth."

Tina looked back at Dirk and nodded. "Go ahead."

He licked his lips, inhaled deeply, opened his mouth and... and...

No sound emerged and a fleeting look of concern fluttered across his eyes.

"You were staking out the nightclub," Tina said, trying to jog his memory.

There had been rumors of a new player in the local criminal underworld. Middleburg wasn't the most important city in the United States, but it was the city Tina was assigned to monitor and protect. Her job was to follow every lead and hunt down every rumor. Damn it, she would do whatever it took to keep her city and its surrounding suburbs safe. Today that meant sending Dirk to scope out Basic Bitch, the hot new nightclub in the corduroy district, and catch sight of the elusive General Zero.

Now that the mission was complete Dirk only nodded. He had yet to say a single word.

"Agent Allen." Tina was starting to grow a little bit frustrated. "Report."

Dirk opened his mouth for a third time. It was obvious by the way the vein popped out on his forehead that he was trying very hard to do something. Tina couldn't for the life of her guess what that might be. Finally a sound emerged. It was less words and more a strangled moan.

"Oh God, you're choking!" She raced behind him and reached around, clasping her hands just under his sternum. He pushed her off, taking a couple deep and loud breaths to prove his windpipe wasn't blocked. "Then what's wrong?" she asked. "Why aren't you talking?"

Dirk looked around frantically and made more weird moaning sounds. Finally an air of determination came over him and in one swift motion he reached down his pants and started to masturbate.

* * * * *

Chapter 107 of the SWSO training manual states 'Bus stops are to be avoided. Only bad things happen there. The bus itself is fine. You'll be safe on the bus, but waiting at a bus stop is a sure way to compromise your mission.'

Chapter 108 gives the following advice, 'Family is the figurative anvil tied to your feet before you're thrown into a polluted river. They will only drag you down, down, down to the muddy depths and eventually drown you. Disown your cousin. Forsake your sister. Ignore your father at public gatherings if you have to. And for goodness sake, if any of them approach you at a bus stop get the hell out of there!'

Unfortunately, Dirk had only read up to chapter 3.

He had staked-out Basic Bitch for nearly 12 hours, dancing and drinking and snorting different colored powders before finally laying eyes on General Zero. No one knew what the General was up to, but Dirk was confident Tina would figure it out once she learned what he had seen.

While he waited for the bus back to SWSO headquarters, he went over the events of the day in his mind, just as he had been trained to do. The protocol, Tina had explained, was to do this in the car while driving back from the mission, but Dirk didn't own a car. He didn't need one. He could run faster than any sports car and with less than half the green house emissions.

Only he learned the hard way not to run at night. He didn't have headlights and bicyclists were not easy to see. The Middleburg Municipal Bus was safer. Or at least that's what he thought.

He thought he could relax, enjoy a gentle summer breeze, and bask in the satisfaction of a completed mission. Little did he know that his mission was about to be compromised.

"Dirk Allen," a voice called from the darkness. "How come you never call me?"

"Dad?" Dirk turned around to see a middle-aged man emerge from a large puff of smoke.

Alan Allen was Dirk's adopted father and, as usual, he wore a purple velvet cloak with gold stars painted on it. Alan had earned his wizard's robes and he made sure everyone knew it.

"I'm not surprised you don't recognize me," the older man said as he approached his son. "It's been so long since you've laid eyes on me."

Dirk sighed. His father could be so passive-aggressive.

"I'm sorry," he said and he mostly meant it. "I've been really busy these past couple months, you know, with work and all."

"I wouldn't call it work," Alan grumbled. "You're a male-model. My son would pick the one career where women make more than men."

Technically Dirk was still a male-model. Tina insisted he keep the job as a cover so no one would suspect he was a secret agent. Apparently "secret" meant he had to keep it a secret. It also meant he had to keep hidden the one thing that might actually make his father proud.

"How long are you going to even have that career?" Alan leaned against a nearby dumpster and made a show of examining his fingernails. "It's not like you're getting any younger."

"I'm in my mid-twenties," Dirk reminded him.

"Tic toc, tic toc." Alan looked up, meeting his son's eyes with a hard, unforgiving glare. "I want grandchildren."

"Right now?" Dirk looked around them. They were alone on a deserted street in Middleburg's corduroy district. A greasy ground fog hugged the cold pavement and echos of lost hope rattled through the night air. "Even if I had an agreeable partner, this isn't an ideal place to make a baby."

Alan's upper lip curled into a snarl. "Ridicule me all you want, but I demand the Allen blood be passed onto the next generation."

"Allen blood?" Dirk scoffed. "I'm adopted."

His father stopped short, his mouth gaping. "You think that makes you less my son?" Tears pooled in the corner of his eyes. "Do you think that makes me less your father?"

"Of course not." The guilt weighed heavily on Dirk, so heavily he couldn't lift his eyes to meet his father's gaze. "I know you love me. And I love you too, Dad."

Alan reached for his son and pulled him into a hug. "That's right." He thumped Dirk on the back. "And you're going to love the grandchildren you give me."

Dirk pried himself from the older man's embrace. "Sure, someday I'd like to have kids, but right now I have to put my work first. Speaking of which..." He glanced down at his watch. "The bus should be here soon. I'm glad we had the chance to talk."

"I don't accept that," Alan said. "No. You'll get started on a baby this week, and to make sure you do--" He pointed one finger straight up and swirled it in the air until a glowing green mist started to form around it. "-- I'm putting a spell on you. You won't be able to speak or form words unless you have an erection."

"That's a little extreme," Dirk started to say, but he was cut short when his father shook his finger and flicked the green mist at him.

Dirk's mysterious powers had always been a burden to him. Sure they came in handy during daylight hours, but they made him feel less than human. Now, at this moment, with his father's totally inappropriate spell racing toward him, he'd never been happier to have inhuman speed. With one swift step he moved out of the spell's way and watched as it wafted harmlessly into the wall behind him.

"Not cool, Dad!" he shouted. "Not cool at all!" Then he turned and ran all the way back to headquarters where Tina awaited him and the important information he had gathered. Yes, it was a dangerous thing to do, running at top speed at night, but he was a secret agent-in-training. Wasn't it his job to court danger?

It was at headquarters that he found out his powers hadn't saved him. It didn't matter how fast he'd moved, his father's boner curse had gotten on him. If he was going to give his report, if Tina was going to stop General Zero, then Dirk needed a stiffy.

* * * * *

Dirk's biceps flexed and contracted as his arm moved in long strokes up and down the front of his pants. Tina tried to be shocked and appalled by his actions, but the part of her that controlled lower brain functions found it mesmerizing.

"What are you doing?"

"Switching on video recording," Fac-Tel said. "I'm sure we'll want this for the archives."

"I was able to identify General Zero," Dirk said, his arm keeping its slow, steady pace "and follow him--"

"Dirk. Dirk!" she interrupted. "Why are you... " The shadows shifted on the front of his pants as a shape began to emerge, the shape of something large and thick. Tina licked her lips. "Why are you touching yourself?"

"It's a long story. I don't want to get into it."

"I think you have to."

He looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. "I told you about my dad, right?"

"Yes," Tina said. "He's a magician."

"A wizard," Dirk corrected, "and for reasons that are unimportant, he put a spell on me so I can't talk unless I have a hard-on."

She took a moment to absorb the information. "And I thought your relationship with your mother was weird."

"I should probably be in therapy," he agreed, his hand still down the front of his pants. "Back to my report. I followed General Zero from the nightclub down to the docks, where he met with a short man in a parka and then... Tina you're drooling."

"Oh, sorry." She wiped the back of her hand across her chin. "Remind me again what your mission was. I'm drawing a blank."

"Is it because I'm jerking off?" he asked.

She nodded. "It's a little... a little... actually it's a good size." She tore her eyes away from his pelvis. "Maybe you can write out your report."

"Okay," Dirk said. "I need a pen and a piece of paper."

"Wash your hands first," Fac-Tel said. It made no attempt to hide the disdain in its machine generated voice.

By the time Dirk's hands were clean, Tina had placed a pen and notebook on her desk and pulled out her chair for him to sit.

"It's much easier to think when you're not, you know, doing that," she said.

He only nodded and silently began to write.

It took several minutes for him to fill up the page, but once he was done he handed her the notebook and sat back, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"Your handwriting is atrocious." Tina scanned the page. "What does this say? Tiger print motif?" She tossed the notebook back on the desk. "I can't read this. We're going to have to add penmanship to your training. In the meantime, use the computer and type your report."

"Did you clean underneath your fingernails?" Fac-Tel asked.

"Never mind that," Tina said. "We'll disinfect later, just type."

If only it was that simple. Dirk's skill set as a male-model didn't include touch typing. He pecked at the keyboard with his middle fingers. Laboriously, one letter at a time, the words began to form. Tina paced the floor behind him, drumming her fingers on her thighs.

So little was known about General Zero. They didn't even have a good description of him. If Dirk's report was thorough enough, they'd finally be able to fit together the pieces of what was undoubtedly an evil plot. Only then would they be able to formulate their own plan to stop it.

She was peering over his shoulder to see how far he'd gotten, when he started to hit the backspace button.

"No," she gasped. "Don't do that."

Dirk rocked back and forth, grinding his crotch against the desk leg for a minute before saying, "I misspelled corduroy."

That morning if someone had said to Tina, 'Tonight you're going to rip open your blouse and shove your coworker's face into your cleavage,' she would have laughed at their preposterous prediction. Now, in a moment of desperation, she did just that.

"Does this help?" she asked while she pushed Dirk's nose between her breasts.

"A ribble bi," he responded, his voice muffled by her bountiful flesh.

She pushed his head back to prevent suffocation. "Keep your eyes on these." She pointed to her boobs, certain that Dirk would be able to make out her nipples through her lacy black bra. "Fac-Tel, record audio and disable video," she called to the AI. "I repeat, disable video."

"Fine," Fac-Tel intoned. "Whatever. It's not like I get off on this sort of stuff."

Tina ignored the Artificial Intelligence and studied Dirk for a moment. "Are you going to be able to continue with your debriefing?"

"I guess," he said. His words were slow and not well articulated.

"How about now?" She started to bounce up and down on her toes. It was a subtle movement, but it was enough to send her breasts jiggling.

"Yes." His voice was strong and clear. "That is... very effective."

"Good." Tina continued to bounce. "Let's start with a description of General Zero."

Dirk happily obliged. "He's about 5'6" and approximately 165 lbs."

"What about facial features?" she asked. "Were there any identifying scars or tattoos?"

"Not that I saw?"

"How about hair and eye color?"

"Nah." His words were starting to slur. "He wore a hoodie and mirrored sunglaffies."

Tina lifted higher on her toes and dropped faster, causing her breast to bounce more. "What about skin color?"

"It was dark in the club." Dirk regained his enunciation. "The flashing lights made it hard to tell. Honestly, I'm not certain General Zero is a man."

Tina tried to nod her understanding, but it got lost in the bounces. "Until further notice Zero's pronouns will be 'they,' 'their' and 'them.'

"I followed Zero down to the docks," Dirk continued, "where they met with a short man in a parka. I know he was a man because of the unkempt facial hair and tacky fedora."

"It's midsummer," she said, thinking out loud. "Why was he wearing a parka?"

"I ohn't gnow."

Without putting much thought into it, Tina began to bounce even harder, but by this time her movements were so violent Dirk actually pushed his chair back and put his hands up to protect his face.

"Fine, fine." She stopped bouncing and spoke in a calming voice. "We'll try something else." Then she reached behind her back and undid the clasp on her bra. The straps slid off her shoulders and the bra fell to the floor, leaving Tina quite topless. She could feel her nipples harden as an air-conditioned breeze brushed passed them. "Did Zero and the parka man do anything other than talk?"

Dirk tilted his head from one side to the other and a dreamy smile spread across his face. "Yeah. Crates were being offloaded from a ship onto a truck. Parka man opened one of the crates for Zero to inspect."

Tina placed her hand on the desk and leaned forward. "Now we're getting somewhere."

"We certainly are," Dirk sighed. "Can I touch them?"

She rolled her eyes. "Keep it professional, Agent Allen."

"Sorry." He sat up straight and clenched his hands into fists in his lap.

"Were you able to ascertain what was in the crates?"

"Esh, des amps"

Tina rolled her eyes again, then she grabbed Dirk's hands and not so gently placed them against her breasts.

* * * * *

The weight of Tina's breasts settled nicely onto Dirk's palms. There was something so pure about squeezing her soft, warm flesh. It was calming, yet stimulating. It sent him right to his happy place and definitely helped him pop a chub.

"The crates," she said.

"Right." Dirk said, his words mumbled more from shame than anything else.

He was ricocheting back and forth between euphoria and embarrassment. If he didn't have to think about why he was cupping Tina's boobs, then he could really enjoy it. Yet, when he thought about what his father had done to him, how ashamed and infuriated he felt, well, it was enough to squash any man's pocket rocket. Still, he was an agent-in-training and he had a duty.

"Desk lamps," he said. "There were desk lamps in the crates. High quality, I think. There were tiger stripes on the lamp shades."

She straightened her back slightly, forcing Dirk to extend his arms a couple inches so he could keep hold of the goods. "You really did write Tiger Print Motif?"

He nodded. "I'm working on making my vocabulary... you know..."

"Bigger?"

"That's it."

"But why the lamps?" Tina shifted her weight from one hip to the other. "And why the man in the parka?"

"Can you stop squirming so much?" Dirk asked. "It's hard for me to cop a feel."

She gave him one of her disapproving stares that made him shrivel inside. "I can't think if I have to hold still. I need to pace back and forth to figure this thing out." She took a step back, pulling away from his grasp. "It's better if you stay quiet for right now."

Dirk's hands felt cold and empty, but at least he still had a nice view. Tina hadn't remembered to put her blouse back on and she was wearing a pair of finely tailored black pants. They hugged her thighs and stretched across her plump ass. The farther she moved away from him, the more of her he could take in at once.

"We don't know much about General Zero," she was saying as she moved across the floor in her knee high boots, "just that they're raising funds for some dastardly plan."

His eyes traced the curve of her spine, from her shoulder blades down to the dimples peeking out of her trousers' waistband. Dirk appreciated the slope of her hips and the radiance of her pale skin. He found himself nodding in agreement to every step she took, as if her very movement was a statement of fact that couldn't be denied.