tagSci-Fi & FantasyBride of Kong 03

Bride of Kong 03

byHypoxia©

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Or is it? All characters herein are imaginary. Or are they? All events described here are fictitious. Oh, really? All locales described here are real and actual. If you had been to the unnamed places, you would recognize them. But this story is not to be taken seriously. Or is it? All sexual activity depicted here involves more-or-less human persons at least 18 years old. Really. Some host-mothers were only slightly harmed in writing this story. Pray for them.

This is the corrected chapter three. If you have not read the previous episodes, you will not get this one.


--10-- (2000)

Linda Myers awoke in a strange bed in a strange room. It was not as if this had never happened before. Random awakenings were not exactly rare occurrences in her life. But this was much stranger than the old revolving bedroom scene she was used to.

The room looked like a whitewashed adobe monk's cell, without religious symbols or icons. Just bare walls, minimal furniture, the narrow bed, a narrow wood door with no knob, and a translucent glass-brick window.

The other circumstances were stranger. She was alone. She was not naked, nor hungover.

She felt thin cotton pajamas on her slim twenty-five-year-old body. Her chestnut-topped head swung around, her eyes taking in her surroundings. Before she could sit up, the wooden door opened, a small dark woman wearing white Mexican peasant garb put a covered tray on the thin wooden table, then dashed back out, closing the bare door. It clicked behind her.

"Hey!" Linda yelled at the closed door. Then she muttered loudly, "Yeah, hey, well... oh damn."

Linda pulled off the bed covers and sat up, feet on the floor. She found herself dressed in loose light blue pajamas, white socks, and a silver chain around her neck, nothing more. No bra or panties. No rings or studs -- her piercing ornaments were gone. The silver chain seemed to be inscribed with faint digital tracings. For tracking?

Linda stood, stepped to the door, maybe of heavy oak or ironwood, and gave it a tentative push. It did not move. Would pounding on it be futile? She felt her panic level rising. She forced herself to control the panic, to re-focus it into anger and strength. She clenched all her muscles.

"HEY SHIT-HEADS, OPEN THE MOTHERFUCKING DOOR!!" she bellowed, kicking and slamming against the door. The thick door was solid, and firmly attached; her efforts didn't yield much sound. She pounded and yelled for more minutes than she could count. She finally slumped to the floor, panting, sweating, almost crying.

Linda huddled into herself but kept from rolling into a fetal ball. She felt washed-over with panic-driven stress. After another unmeasured time, she pulled herself together, slowed her gasping breaths, and chanted her Zen mantra to calm herself down. She stood when she felt her pulse rate approaching normal.

Linda walked to the table. Next to the covered tray was a two-liter glass water bottle with a metal cup over its top, and two small folded towels. She pulled the cloth cover from the tray, revealing a cup of coffee, a tumbler of orange juice, a bowl of granola, a plastic spoon, and a small carton generically labeled MILK - LECHE in block letters.

"I'm a fucking prisoner," she thought, "and this may be my last meal. Fucking granola! What a bummer."

Linda sighed. She sat in the stiff cane chair and breakfasted without pleasure. Her mind swirled. She tried to work out just what situation she was in, how she got there, and how she could get out.

What had happened to her? Was she at a party last night? She never missed her Friday get-togethers with friends and lovers and fuckmates. Why could she not remember it? She remembered getting off work, and then... nothing, just waking up here. Wherever 'here' was -- she had no idea of her location.

How and why was she here? What were her options?

Linda was a logical person. Shit, she was a fucking software engineer! She could navigate complex logic mazes better and easier than most people count their pocket change. But truth tables and structured hierarchies and object-oriented models weren't of much use now. She just did not have data to work on.

Linda felt inevitable pressure on her bladder. What to do? She looked around the room, looked under the bed, and found a bedpan and a bucket.

"Oh, this is just fucking great. I *don't* even want to think about shitting," she thought.

Linda sat on the bed. She sighed again, suppressing her rage and fear and frustration. She was reaching for the bedpan when the door opened. A tall slender woman in sports shoes and a long yellow dress stood in the doorway, short hair a little lighter than Linda's chestnut tresses, deep blue eyes regarding her.

"Good morning, Miss Myers. We have better toilet facilities available. Please come with me."

The woman turned and walked down a whitewashed hallway. Linda padded after her.

"Hey, wait, what the fuck is going on here, why am I...?"

The woman, maybe ten or fifteen years older than Linda, held up a hand.

"Just wait a bit and all your questions will be answered. I am Lorraine. Here is your bathroom."

Lorraine indicated an open door. Linda somehow choked-off her anger and shrugged tightly. She went inside and closed the door. She saw an ordinary-looking sink, toilet, and shower. A thin white robe hung from the wall, with a pair of soft white slippers on the floor.

Linda peed, washed, donned the robe and slippers, and returned to the hallway.

"Come this way," Lorraine said, leading her down the hall and into the middle of a cavernous room.

Large-mesh wire screens divided the room into thirds. On the left side were a half-dozen *large* apes, downsized Kongs. On the other side were a dozen people dressed in Mexican peasant whites, half men, half women, all seeming... not quite right.

The apes and the people all looked at Linda with interest. They all started moving towards the screens. They all seemed to be drooling slightly.

Linda stood stock-still in shock. What the fuck? Lorraine grabbed her wrist and tugged her back into the hallway, closing a door behind them. She heard grunts and muffled voices beyond the door.

"We just needed to see if you had the same effect awake as you did asleep. Now follow me and learn."

Lorraine led the silent and dazed Linda to a plain sitting room containing a few pieces of upholstered furniture and a low table. Lorraine gestured to one chair and sat in another. Linda stood, crossed her arms below her breasts, and growled.

"Who the fuck are you, where the fuck am I, what the fuck am I doing here, and why the fuck have you kidnapped me, dipshit?"

"I told you my name. We are on an island off the Mexican coast. And you are here because you are special," Lorraine responded calmly.

"People who tell me I'm special usually bring me flowers or candy or XBox games or something. They don't fucking KIDNAP me! What is this shit?"

"Miss Myers, I'll give you the short version. You are special because you are Ann Darrow's granddaughter. You have her DNA. The Darrow line is genetically unique. Your body chemistry is unique. You, your mother, her late sisters and mother, are the only known people who produce certain specific hormones, of a type called pheromones.

"Pheromones stimulate physiological and behavioral responses in beings of the same or similar species. Pheromones are like scents, but more so, because they trigger vivid reactions deep within the receiver's body. Pheromones extend beyond the body's usual [b]aura[/b], the thin invisible cloud of chemicals and microbes that surround a body. In open air, pheromones can be sensed even many miles away."

"And just what the fuck do my DNA and pheromones mean to you? And to me? And to whoever kidnapped me?"

"You know a little something about your family history. You know your grandmother was pursued by Kong. Your grandmother was the only person Kong would respond to sexually. Her pheromones drove his reactions. My employers have produced a number of clones and hybrids of Kong. I just rough-tested you with some of them. They respond to you, and only to you, whether you are asleep or awake. And no other known primates respond to your family's pheromones."

Linda worked to absorb all this. Biologically unique? What the fuck!

Loraine continued, "My employers are trying to develop others with your DNA, to grow breeding populations of these clones and hybrids. You, my dear, have a large place in future human history. You could be one of the most important humans who ever lived."

"Wait, clones and... hybrids?" Linda's mental gears spun and smoked as she feverishly attempted to process Lorraine's words. "Those people?"

"The hybrids are products of our research program. They are mostly human, more human than any natural primates. They carry enough Kong DNA to have Kong's strength and endurance but not his size or intractable violent temperament. In many parts of the world, they would easily fit into human communities. And before you ask, I'll just say that my employers believe they can profit from producing Kong hybrids and clones."

"Holy shit! Super strength? Docility? Are you trying to breed perfect slave laborers?"

"No, my employers have other applications in mind. I can't discuss those now. Nor can I tell you who my employers are. But I must tell you -- it will be some years at least before others with your DNA are mature and ready. My dear, YOU and you alone will be the mother of a new race!"

Linda jumped up and shouted, "What, you're going to pimp me out to a bunch of monsters? Fuck that..." just as two large men grabbed her from behind, stuffed a gag in her mouth, and carried her back to her cell. They forced her inside and closed the bare door. Linda pulled out the gag and screamed.

"That will do you no good, lady," said a soft voice behind her.

Linda whirled. From a corner of the cell stepped the small dark woman who had brought her breakfast tray. The woman held up her hands.

"Please, calm down. Sit, please. We can talk. My name is Nona."

Linda collapsed on the bed. "What the fuck has happened to me?"

Nona sat beside Linda, put her arms around her, held her close.

"Please lady, calm yourself. I will tell you what I know. All that I know is that they said they brought you here to love us, to love my people. We don't know what love is. I know you are not like us. You smell so good, you look so good. I feel like I want you in some way. My body wants you. Is this what love is?"

Linda tried to pull away, but Nona kept her arms around her. Nona was immensely strong. Strain as she might, Linda was unable to break the iron-tight embrace. Linda felt herself start to weaken, but she braced herself and struggled further, fruitlessly.

Nona nuzzled Linda's neck. "Oh lady, you smell so good."

Nona's tongue reached out and licked Linda's face and mouth.

"Oh lady, you taste so good, like nothing I tasted before."

Nona licked down Linda's chin and neck. She pulled off Linda's robe and started unbuttoning her pajama top. Linda grabbed Nona's wrists and tried to pull her strong hands away but was unable to budge them.

"Nona, stop, this is wrong, this is wrong," Linda sobbed. She felt ripped apart inside, torn between her desperate desire to be back home and free, and her uncontrollable pheromone-driven sensual responses to Nona's attentions and her very presence. Worn and forlorn, Linda wept.

Nona's hands stilled. She looked up into Linda's flowing eyes, alarmed.

"Wrong? This is wrong, lady? Smelling, tasting, touching, loving you is wrong? If loving you is wrong, I don't want to be right."

"Nona, this isn't love! Love is when we both want it. If I don't want it, it's not love, it's rape!"

Linda's tears had a strange effect. Nona's sexual feelings for Linda dropped to nothing. Now, instead of lust, Nona felt tenderness, concern, empathy. Linda's sobbed words brought Nona to the brink of anxiety.

Nona frowned sharply, "Rape? They taught us about rape in our classes. Rape is wrong, very wrong. This is very serious. Over and over, they told us: Don't kill. Don't steal. Don't rape. Don't lie. Don't violate."

Nona released Linda and stood up, stepped back, looked anxious, almost terrorized with guilt.

"Lady, I am so sorry, I never wanted to rape you. I can't rape anyone. Rape is a violation."

"But I was kidnapped! Stolen from my home! I've already been violated!" Linda cried even more.

Nona looked deeply disturbed by Linda's ourburst.

The bare door opened, and stayed open, as a short dark stocky man entered the room, a man looking much like Nona, also dressed in peasant whites and open sandals.

"Nona, how are you? Has the lady loved you yet?"

"Oh Pedro, the lady can't love us, and we can't love her. If we try, we would only rape her."

"Oh no Nona, not rape! In our classes, they taught us that rape is wrong, that we must always respect others, even those who aren't our betters. We can't rape her. Lady, we are very sorry. We must go now."

Nona and Pedro walked away, almost shamefully, leaving the door wide open.

Linda sat on the bed a few moments, stunned into immobility. She jumped up and strode toward the door. Lorraine appeared in the doorway, blocking her exit.

"Well, that was interesting, and a bit disappointing. No, VERY disappointing, for my corporate masters anyway. It seems you can control your level of attractiveness from the hybrids. You can turn them off too easily with your tears and words. We might be able to fix that if we keep you drugged, but my orders don't cover that option. You might not be suitable to mother a new race after all. Well, we have enough tissue samples from you already. We don't really need you here. We'll have to decide what to do with you."

Lorraine slapped a medication patch onto Linda's neck over her carotid artery. Linda flinched.

"Hey, don't kill me..." and then Linda collapsed.

-----

Your eye is a magic camera lens.

You drop from orbit, descending over the Sea of Cortez, your vision closing in on a small semi-desert subtropical island floating between the Mexican mainland and the Baja California peninsula. Armed boats bearing no insignia patrol around the island. These guards, and sinister buoys, warn away intruders.

Dusk shadows stretch as the sun nears the western horizon. Your vision tightens. You see silhouetted shadows of fences, towers, barracks, industrial buildings, enclosed compounds, warehouses in a small freight port complex. The parade fields, truck gardens, airfield, and cemetery cast few shadows.

Your magic eye floats toward a secured barracks, in through a barred window, down a wide hallway to a large common room. A score of small dark people in white peasant garb mill about, agitated, chattering nervously. What is driving their anxiety?

Your eye drifts through another, smaller, barred window, down another, wider, hallway, into a much larger common room. A score of large ape-like beings mill about, agitated, grunting and squeaking nervously. Do wafting pheromones bear chemical messages between these two groups?

Your eye moves out of the barracks and into a low building filled with offices. You glide down a long door-lined corridor and into a large conference room centered on a long table and its padded chairs. A few people (including Lorraine) of various gender identities wearing tropical linen suits sit around the table.

The image of the aging muGen CEO who never looked anything like Dicky Attenborough glares down from a big video screen. He is not happy. The video conference is not pleasant. Many options are discussed, few of them entirely legal in most jurisdictions.

Finally, tough decisions are made. Orders are given. Asses are kicked and kissed. The video screen goes dark.

Your magic eye drifts from the conference room, through the office building, to a medical wing. Your eye sees a small clinic. The woman known as Linda Myers lies unconscious on a hospital bed. More stick-on medicated patches are visible on her arms emerging from light cotton pajamas.

Two medics roll Linda onto a gurney. They wheel the gurney outside and slide her into an ambulance which then drives quietly to the island's airfield. She is loaded onto a small corporate jet bearing the muGen logo. The plane taxis and departs northward.

Your magic eye returns to the secured barracks. All the small dark people and all the large ape-like creatures are still agitated and vocalizing. Is the inside air filled with tension, or with pheromones?

Your magic eye closes again.

--11-- (2000)

Linda woke in her own bed, stretching, refreshed, naked and a bit horny as usual, a little lonely right now, but otherwise feeling pretty good. Wait, wasn't she supposed to have been at a party last night? She never missed her Friday get-togethers. Never ever!

She shrugged. Some dim half-memories came to her. Jeez, what a weird dream! But she did not feel like she had consumed any of the usual mind-bending drugs. She shrugged again. Yeah, whatever.

Linda crawled out of bed. She walked bare-assed to her familiar bathroom. She peed and washed, then threw her robe on. She started the espresso boiler and grabbed a cup of peach yogurt from the fridge.

She sat at her computer and clicked for her usual YAHOO NEWS home page. She mouthed a cool spoonful of yogurt while the page loaded. She looked at the date and jumped. What the fuck? Monday? It couldn't be Monday, yesterday was Friday, right?

Linda's little Nokia 2G cellphone rang. She saw that she had over a dozen voicemails, mostly from Dolores, her hot dark little former roommate and still a close fuckbuddy. This new call was from Dolores too.

"Hey girl, where you been? I've been trying to reach you all weekend. Did you have a real hot date and turn your phone off? I mean, I had a fun time too, but at least I didn't switch off. You know, you might want to get to your office sometime today. They'll probably expect you to show up for work."

"Work? Isn't this Saturday? No, can't be, the computer says it's Monday. Dolores, all I remember is getting off work Friday afternoon, then waking up here just a few minutes ago. Isn't this Saturday?"

"What, you been in a time warp or something? You must have done some *powerful* shit, chica. Yes, today is indeed Monday, a working day. Maybe we should do lunch and talk about this. Tony's at noon, okay?"

"Uh, yeah, okay, I'll see you at Tony's. If I'm late, order me a BLT on sourdough, right? See you then."

"You got it, chica. Don't fall into any time machines on your way over, now."

Linda slurped her espresso, work-dressed quickly, and made it to her desk only a little late.

Linda did not accomplish much work that morning,. She just managed a few minor tasks on autopilot. She mostly sat hunched in her chair, staring blankly at her workstation monitor's abstract screensaver patterns, the shifting moires triggering memories, almost a hypnotic induction.

Linda's weekend experiences slowly came back to her in a dim tide of recollection. She shuddered silently as the ordeal fell into place. Could it all have really happened?

Dolores only had to impatiently wait ten minutes for Linda at the sandwich shop. Linda dashed in, spied sultry Dolly, plopped herself down at the small table, and started devouring her waiting lunch.

"Hey chica, what's been going on? Are you okay?"

"Wait now, I missed breakfast, I'm starving, I'll tell you in a minute, ummm..."

"Yeah, whatever," Dolores said, nibbling her lip, "but you gotta start answering your phone more regular."

Linda finished her sandwich and sucked-down the Polish pickle Dolly had left on her plate.

"Okay, here's what I pieced together. I thought I'd had a real weird dream, but maybe not. Remember back at Berkeley when I had that pile of Kong's hair, and then it just disappeared? I think it was stolen by a biotech firm and they cloned some Kongs. They also used its DNA to make hybrid ape-people. And there's something about the DNA and body chemistry of my grandma and mom and me that's special for the apes.

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byHypoxia© 3 comments/ 10529 views/ 1 favorites

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