Experimental Animal

It was dark, and silent. Matt was exhausted. He hadn't exercised so much in months, nor eaten so well. But he couldn't sleep. He was stupid with lust. His cock felt heavy and huge, a thick throbbing presence against his belly. The need had never been this bad before. He wondered if she was naked, in that bed. He wondered if her rape had killed her sexual desire; if she was ever hot for a man. He wondered if she'd mind jacking him off, just once, if he promised not to touch her. If he begged.

"You're not okay, are you?" she whispered.

"No," he grated.

He heard her get out of bed and knelt on the rug beside him. He kept his eyes shut. He didn't dare look at her. He didn't think he could control himself.

"I never realized how difficult it must be for you," she said softly. After a moment, she said faintly, "I shouldn't do this."

"Do what?" he whispered.

"This," she said. He felt her hands take him out of his pants; his breath hitched and his hands clenched. He couldn't move or speak or open his eyes; he lay rigidly as he felt her wrap one hand around his shaft. Her hair fell softly on his belly and thighs. A stroke of wetness - her little pointed tongue - on the very tip of his penis nearly brought him off the floor. Then her mouth opened and took him in, so slowly and hesitantly he thought he might scream.

She had never done this before, obviously. Probably wasn't even sure what she was supposed to do. She didn't bob her head or stimulate him with her tongue, just slowly sucked him in, as deep as she could. She didn't know how to take him into her throat and so stopped with half his cock lodged in her mouth, her hand wrapped around the base of his shaft.

It was enough; it was amateurish and clumsy andmore than enough. "Oh God," groaned Matt. Inevitability gripped him. "I'm going to come," he breathed. "Hold still, don't, don't -"Don't stop, he wanted to say, as orgasm roared through him in a long savage rush, almost as painful as it was pleasurable.

He lay still, stars dancing in his vision, his throat aching as though he had screamed. Maybe he had. His dick was still pulsing as she pulled back, releasing him from her mouth. He heard her swallow; she put one hand over her mouth.

"Oh," she said, sounding utterly horrified. "I can't believe I just did that."

-----

No, we have no idea why she did that. Yes, I understand that Crew G has just aborted the entire experiment. I don't know what to say. She was thoroughly briefed on her goals. She would never have been selected for this mission if she hadn't always been an exemplary agent.

-----

She curled up beside him on the rug; he wrapped his arms around her slight body and buried his face in her hair. "Thank you, honey," he whispered. "Thank you. I don't know why you did it either, but I needed that so bad."

"Did it hurt?" she asked, sounding bewildered.

"A little," Matt admitted.

She looked at him, so serious and shy in the dim light. "Can I do anything else to help?"

He hesitated. "I don't want to scare you, Trish," he said. "I don't know what you're ready for."

"I am scared," she said softly. "I don't know, either. But ... tell me what to do. If I don't want to, I won't."

He stroked her face. "You stop me if I want too much, okay?" She nodded, and he said, "Hold my balls." She cupped his testicles and he said, "Gentle. Just rub them a little, gentle. Oh yeah." Her slow massage of his balls began to ease the knot of pain and tension that had been lodged there for months. Matt lay still, his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her body. After a while, he cupped her face and began to kiss her.

God, she was sweet. He brushed his mouth against her full lips, gently and slowly, and she kissed him back. He stroked his tongue along her upper lip, and she opened her mouth and sucked his tongue. He thought of the way he'd just come into that warm mouth, and blood began to surge back into his penis, which, tirelessly, began to lift and harden. He groaned. "Trish, do you want to stop?"

"No," she whispered. "It's so interesting."

He laughed. "You act like you've never seen a guy get a hard-on before," he said.

"Do you want me to suck on it again?" she asked innocently.

He looked at her. Her eyes were dark, her cheeks flushed. Her lips were wet and full from kissing. He pulled back a little and looked down at her body; her nipples were erect, pouting against the cloth of her shirt.

"What do you want?"

She didn't answer; her face was a picture of temptation and doubt. He leaned over and kissed her again, licking his tongue deep into her mouth. Her head dropped back in acquiescence, one hand curling around his neck, the other still gently massaging his balls. He cupped her breast and stroked the nipple through the loose cotton of her shirt, and felt more than heard the tiny sound of arousal she made.

Matt laid her down on the floor and slid his hands up under her shirt. He pulled back from the kiss just enough to look into her eyes as he began inching the shirt up; he saw nothing but compliance in her eyes, so he pulled the shirt off over her head. Her pants followed; then he stood up, shucked off his own clothes. As he pulled off his long johns he reached down automatically to adjust his balls, and realized that he could. "Will you look at that," he said. For the first time in months, he could touch himself when he was aroused. He stared down at her supine body for a long moment, rubbing his palm up and down over his erect dick, and then lay back down beside her, smiling with happiness.

"I am obviously living in a dream world," he said to her.

"You don't think this is real?" she asked, accepting him into her open arms.

"Nope. But I don't mind."

She was as sleek and tawny as a cat, streamlined and lithe, except for those amazing plump breasts. He palmed them, rolling the sensitive nipples against his thumbs, and watched her body arch with pleasure. He sucked on them, gently first and then hard, using his tongue to press the nipples against the roof of his mouth. She moaned his name, her hands in his hair.

He didn't want to wait any more, and God knew she seemed ready. His body fit perfectly against hers, her hips cradling his, the arches of her feet cupping the muscles of his calves. He lay on top of her and rubbed the head of his cock against the lips of her pussy, stroking it through her wetness. The sensation was exquisite for both of them; her eyes closed, and she whispered, "Oh, oh, oh," as she opened her thighs. His fingers and cock were thoroughly wet as he nudged his cock against her clit. Her reaction was astonished. Matt asked breathlessly, "Trish honey, are you a virgin?"

"No, of course not," she said. "I just - It's never been quite so -"

Her previous lovers were assholes, apparently. "Hold me," he said. She wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted her knees to clasp him with her thighs. He positioned himself at her opening and thrust gently, and oh God, he slid into her so sweetly. He kissed her with open mouth, sucking her tongue against his, and pushed all the way inside her. They both moaned. He used his wet fingers to stimulate her clit as he ground into her in tiny restrained thrusts, being as gentle and soft as he could stand it. The effort of going slow and pleasing her made sweat break out on his shoulders.

And it was worth it, because she loved it. Her body moved with him, taking him deeper. She kissed him with little moans of delight, clasping him with her thighs. Her hips began snapping up to meet his, letting her body slap against his with each thrust. He wasn't going to last long if she kept doing that, but he hardly had the strength to stop her. She was right there with him: he saw the flush of arousal spread over her chest and throat, saw her body begin to writhe as she approached orgasm. "Come on, come on," he chanted as he fucked her, less gently now that his own climax was coming fast.

And she did. She was beautiful when she came, sobbing with pleasure, her body shuddering with delight.

He closed his eyes and felt a second scorching orgasm seize him; his hips bucked uncontrollably as he spurted into her. This time there was no pain, only pleasure, and exquisite relief. He collapsed on top of her.

-----

I'm beginning to understand what happened to Crew G.

It was necessary for the completion of her mission that she be accurate. She has the body of a human female; she is biologically correct, down to the last detail. She has human sexual organs, too, and with them, apparently, human sexual urges.

No, we didn't foresee that she might act upon these sexual urges. How could we? How could anyone expect that one of us might ever behave like one of them?

-----

"I wonder if it's Christmas," Matt murmured. He and Trish were cuddled on the thick Navajo rug in front of the fire, naked, content. "It feels like Christmas."

"What does Christmas feel like to you?"

"Oh," he said, "not Rudolph or Santa or any of that commercial stuff," Matt said thoughtfully. "My folks always said it was a time when wishes come true. I guess that's what it feels like. Lucky. Happy."

She smiled, gorgeously, in the firelight. "That's how I feel, too," she said.

After a moment's more thinking, Matt added in a hard voice, "I'll tell you another thing. They fucked with the wrong guy when they picked me up, Trish."

"They did?" she asked. "Why?"

"I'm army," he said. "Military police. I've been working as an investigator with the Defense Department for four years. I can have troops here within six hours of finding a phone, no matter where in the world we are. That's if I don't go back myself and start killing people myself," he added savagely. "They are dead men."

In the dimness, he could see her big dark eyes, brows quirked with concern. "You sound very angry," she whispered.

"Angry?" He stared at her. "Trish - I am so angry I could commit murder with my bare hands. And that's for what they did to me." He pushed her hair back from her face. "For what they did to you - setting you up to be raped - for that, I would torture them first, then kill them. How can you even ask if I'mangry?"

She hid her face in his chest; Matt realized that he was trembling with fury. He forced himself to take deep breaths and to calm down. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm scaring you. I just - I just want you to know that it's going to be over soon. The people who did this to us will pay. I promise, Trish."

She didn't say anything, didn't lift her face from his shoulder. He strove to lighten the tone. "What will you do when you get back home, huh?" he asked, nudging her a little. "What do you do for a living anyway, Trish?"

"What do I look like I do for a living?" she whispered.

He cuddled her against his chest, his cheek against her hair. "Uh, you look like a woman who doesn't want to answer questions about herself."

She stroked his chest and didn't answer.

"That's fine," said Matt. "That's okay. I was just thinking ..."

"What?"

"That maybe, wherever you're from, you could move. To Virginia, to live with me. If you wanted."

She said nothing, her face hidden by her hair, and he added, teasingly, "Think about how nice it would be. In the morning I'd go off to my job at the Pentagon, and you'd go off to your job being mysterious and refusing to answer questions. And in the evening, we'd come home and have dinner. And then I'd tell you about my day, and you'd tell me about yours. We'd walk the dog - do you like dogs? - and maybe watch a little TV. And then we'd go to bed and make love all night long, and in the morning off we'd go to work again."

"When would we sleep?" she asked, a little giggle in her voice.

"Maybe I'd catch a nap at lunch."

She didn't say anything for a long while; he thought she may have fallen asleep. He closed his eyes, and felt himself begin to glide towards sleep. Just as he was drifting off, he thought he heard her say sadly, "It does sound nice."

-----

The cold woke Matt up. He blinked around, confused, before he realized where he was. Trish wasn't lying with him any more, and the fire in the stove had burned down to embers.

She was standing in the little kitchen area, wrapped in a flannel shirt and looking out the window. Moonlight was coming in, outlining her long sweet legs with light; the shirt she wore wasn't very long, and he could see the shadowed crease where the plump cheeks of her ass curved into her thighs. Matt found that he was up for more sex. He fed wood into the stove and then went up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back against his naked body. Only then did he notice that she was crying.

"Trish," he whispered, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "What's wrong?"

"Matt, I have to tell you something. This whole situation - you know how you thought it wasn't real? Your instincts are good." She turned in his arms to face him; she was obviously anxious, upset. "This isn't a fantasy, but it isn't real, either. It's ... actually a setup. A ... a test."

He stared at her, his brow knotted with confusion. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that the people who held you prisoner let you escape. Here, with me. To see what you would do."

Matt stared at her in the moonlight for a long time, his heart beating erratically, pounding in his ears. Her face was so lovely - not classically beautiful, but pretty, soft-lipped, with large, innocent eyes. He couldn't speak. Trish went on, "They meant no harm, Matt. They didn't understand ..."

"They?" Matt asked softly. "Don't you meanwe?"

She licked her lips. "I'm one of them, yes," she admitted.

"The rape," he said. His voice came out gritty. "Were you testing that guy, too?"

"There was no rape. You're our first experimental subject - there haven't been any others yet."

"Damn you!" he roared at her, and she flinched as if she'd been struck.

"Matt, you have to understand," Trish said, pleadingly. "We're scientists -"

"Scientists!" Matt grabbed her by the arms and shook her. He shouted in her face, "You kept me in a cage, you stole months of my life, you experimented on me like a goddamn animal, you fuck me and pretend to like it, and you say I have to understand?" He shook her harder, months of rage boiling up in him like molten lava. "What was the point of this experiment, todrive me out of my fucking mind?"

"T - to see what it would take to make you lose control," she whispered.

"To see if I was a rapist, you mean?" he snarled at her. "Baby, you're about to find out."

And he picked her up and threw her onto the bed.

-----

I realize that you're concerned for Crew G's welfare. But Crew G's own lack of professionalism is what put her in this predicament. She has no one but herself to blame.

No, I think that rather than extracting her, we'll just wait and see what Subject 405 does.

-----

Months of wild, ugly fantasies about vengeance boiled through his brain as Matt shoved Trish, hard, face down onto the bed. Her upper body was covered by the flannel shirt, but her round ass and thighs were bare; as she fell, her face pushed into the mattress, and the lips of her pussy were exposed, red and slightly puffy from the sex they'd had earlier. He was panting with rage and lust; his cock was as hard and heavy as a hammer. He pushed her legs roughly apart and rammed himself inside her.

She cried out. A savage, vicious satisfaction howled through him - not just sexual pleasure, although that was there, but wild delight at having one of his tormentors right where he wanted her. He pumped his hips, pistoning into her helpless body, his teeth bared in a grin of fury.

Beneath the satisfaction, though, a tiny part of his conscience pinged: he was a rapist now.

Trish cried out again, and again, her hands clenching rhythmically on the bed's down coverlet. Matt belatedly realized that he wasn't raping her. He was about to make her come.

He pulled out, sharply, ignoring her moan. He closed his eyes and pressed his face to her back, trembling as complex emotions swamped him. Hatred - desire tohurt her - conflicted with an unwilling masculine appreciation of her sexual receptiveness.Damn she was fine. He wanted to please her, hated her, hated himself for wanting her. Every breath he took, trying to steady himself, was full of the smell of her desire.

Matt reminded himself of the months of aching fear and boredom in that cell, and imagined her watching him with scientific interest.

"Scientist," he said bitterly. "You're not a scientist, bitch. You're nothing but a hot cunt. Get up on your knees."

He smacked her thigh, and she got up, kneeling on the bed, her back to him, head bowed. He pulled the shirt off her, tearing it along one seam, and throwing it away. "Crawl up to the headboard and hang on," he said, getting onto the bed behind her.

"Matt -"

"Shut up and do as you're told."

She crawled up to the top of the bed and put her hands on the headboard. "You keep your hands there," he said. "Spread your legs wider so I can see. Yeah," he said, looking down at her ass, her splayed thighs, her dark wet hole. "Just a hot dripping cunt, aren't you? Say it."

"Matt, please -"

He gripped her ass in his hands, pressing his thumbs between the lips of her pussy. Her voice stuttered to a stop; hot liquid squeezed out of her, making his thumbs shiny. "You like that?" he whispered.

She moaned her agreement. He dragged one thumb slowly over her clit; her whole body jerked. He rubbed her clit with one thumb while pressing the other into her, fucking her with it, and she writhed, clawing the headboard, her breath coming in rapid pants. Matt was panting, too. He kept it up, masturbating her mercilessly, and when she was on the verge of orgasm, he pulled both thumbs back and just held her hips still, hard, his fingers leaving bruising imprints on her pale flesh.

She whispered, "Please, Matt, please -"

"You want to come, baby?" he crooned. "Is that it? You want me to fuck you 'til you come?"

"Yes!"

"Then say it," he told her harshly. "Say, 'I'm not a scientist, I'm just a hot dripping cunt.'"

"You don't understand," she cried.

"I understand better than you think," Matt said. He put one hand in her hair, clenching it into his fist, dragging her head back. With the other hand, he gently, gently brushed his fingers over her mouth, teasingly stroking her own juices onto her lips, letting her taste her own need. "You're nothing but a dripping cunt right now, are you? Tell me."

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes."

"I'm not a scientist," he coached her. His mouth was against her straining neck. He dropped his hand to her groin and his fingers circled her swollen clit, not touching it.

"I'm not a scientist," she said, her body squirming in rhythm to his finger's motions. "I - I -"

"You're nothing," he coached.

"I - I'm nothing - but a hot -"

"Dripping," he hinted.

"A hot dripping cunt," she said, all in a rush. "Oh Matt, please -"

"Please what?"

"Please touch me," she said. "I never knew what it was like. Touch my cunt, put it inside me, please," she begged.

"No," he said.

-----

Besides, the data coming back is quite interesting.

-----

Matt wanted to push away from her, to leave her there, mortified and aching on the bed.

But he found he couldn't do it.

"This is what you did to me," he whispered. "Imagine the way you feel now. Needing it, the way you need it now. For months without end. Imagine it, Trish."