Kowalski

Mark Kowalski jogged down the highway away from his house, headed for his favorite alone-time contemplation place: a grassy meadow overlooking the Deschutes River. It was summer, dry and 74 degrees Fahrenheit, and all the plants around him were busily having sex. He could smell the pollen in the air as he ran.

Alone-time was very important to Mark, a serious introvert whose mental energy reserves were quickly depleted by having to interact with other people – especially female people. He knew that being this way didn't bode well for him in any future career, since extroverts seemed to rule the world. He didn't know what he was going to do when he finished high school but he was certain that it wouldn't involve sales, marketing, journalism, politics, or any other career where the need to constantly deal with actual human beings was an imperative.

Mark was neither popular nor unpopular at school. He was the guy that was always kind of there in the background. Not athletic enough for team sports, not smart enough to be a standout nerd, not handsome enough or dangerous enough to be a ladies' man. He did have friends: his best buddy was probably Skane, a second-string linebacker on the high school football team. Skane's influence kept most of the bullies off of Mark's back, for which he was grateful. For whatever reason, Skane insisted on calling him "Marky-Mark" which, after an Internet search, Mark understood to be a reference to Mark Wahlberg's early career in rap and modeling. Marky-Mark had gone on to bigger and better things: fame and fortune as an actor. Mark Kowalski, however, recognized the irony in the nickname, given his skinny body and his difficulty in dealing with others.

When Mark would hang out at football practice, one of Skane's coaches insisted on calling him "Mr. Kowalski". After more Internet research, Mark hoped that the coach meant Clint Eastwood's character in "Gran Torino". Because that would be cool. But one day the coach told him that Mr. Kowalski was a character in a 60's show called "Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea". Kind of a red-shirt character, he'd said. Mark never bothered to try and stream the show to find out what kind of character Mr. Kowalski was.

He passed the end of River Woods Drive, his quitting point, and knew that he had run about 4 miles. His doctor had told him that running was good for him, so he did it. He picked his way carefully across the old lava bed until he reached the spot where he could cross the Arnold Canal, then made his way through the trees to the grassy area where he could watch the water while listening to Lava Island Falls. He'd never seen anyone here, no matter the time of day. He reached into his small backpack, pulled out the large beach towel, and spread it carefully on the ground. He shucked off his running clothes and was about to take a quick, cooling dip in the river when his throat closed up.

Mark forced himself to try and breathe slowly and calmly as he rummaged in the backpack for his inhaler. His asthma was always worse in the spring and summer. He squeezed down on the little bottle and felt the healing mist enter his mouth. But when he tried to inhale it, he discovered that his lungs were too constricted to take much in. He could barely catch any breath at all.

"Fuck!" he wheezed. "Fucking asthma!" That sent him into a paroxysm of coughing, which was hell when he could barely inhale. He started to see spots before him, little stars of light, and he realized that he was about to pass out.

"I'm going to die here," he thought. "Just four miles from home. Mom won't know for a long time and when she finds me she'll..."

Shit, he was naked. He couldn't die naked. He reached for his shorts but before he could pull them on, the world went dark.

************

Marky-Mark Kowalski woke up. It took a while to realize where he was, and then a little while longer to remember how he'd gotten there. He rolled over and reached for his inhaler before he realized that he was already breathing normally. More than normally: he was able to take huge, deep breaths. The scent of the pine trees and brush around him were intoxicating. A bright humid ozone scent overlaid it all, and he understood that he was smelling the river. He rolled over on the towel to push himself up and caught sight of his own arm. It was huge. Huge with muscle. He looked down at his body. His chest, what he could see of it, was reminiscent of Schwarzenegger. His abs were flat and hard.

He stood up – easily, like an uncoiling spring. He could tell that he was taller, but not by how much. He looked down at his cock. Shit, still the same old cock. If you pass out and dream that you've woken up as Captain America, shouldn't your cock be huge?

"It will grow soon."

Mark spun around. The woman was watching him with a merry look on her face.

"I was strategic in my approach. The physical infirmities first, then the brain, then the musculature." She consulted the small tablet in her hand. "Now the sexual functions."

Mark looked down. He both felt and saw his cock lengthen and thicken. His balls became larger. His pubic hair disappeared. He looked like a porn star.

"I've never understood why your species has retained its superfluous hair," the woman said as Mark felt the hair under his arms disappear as well.

"Not from my head!" he cried, knowing it was a dream but not wanting to be dream-bald.

Her laugh was like the waterfall that he'd listened to since he'd begun running here: soft, merry, gentle.

"No," she said. "The hair on your head is attractive. I understand this." She looked him up and down.

"Turn around," she said. He did. And after a while she said, "I did good. This is the correct way to say this, yes?"

Mark, who had been shy and modest all his life, turned back around with his hands covering his erection.

"Why are you holding yourself?" she said.

"I'm not holding myself. I'm covering myself."

"Why?"

"For modesty's sake."

Her laugh once again moved him with its beauty.

"Modesty? You have nothing to hide from me. There is nothing that you possibly can hide from me. I am on you and in you, every part of you. Still... move your hands, because I like to look upon you with my senses."

Mark considered his options. He was either unconscious, or he really was Captain America standing in front of Captain America's creator. He dropped his hands.

"Nice," she said. Then she sat down on the towel.

"You probably have questions."

Mark laughed out loud. He couldn't help it.

"A couple," he said. "The first one, you can't answer."

"Please, I will answer any question you have."

"You can't answer it," Mark said, "because it's an existential question and no doubt has a self-referential answer. It's a logic problem."

The woman looked at him. She was stunning, he thought. White-blonde hair, beautiful face, big blue eyes, huge curves and hard nipples hugged by a tight silver jumpsuit. Not the kind of girl he was used to running into in Bend, Oregon.

"You are attempting to determine whether you are still unconscious or you are conscious and experiencing bodily changes that have no discernable proximate cause. Yes?"

"Yes."

"Let me ask you a question, Mark: before now, could you have asked the question that you just asked of me? Could you even have parsed it?"

Mark thought. Existential. Self-referential.

"No," he said.

"If you were unconscious, could you dream such a question?"

"No."

"I have increased your processing power, which was held back by a little biochemical problem. This explains why your cognitive abilities now allow you to make such an inquiry. Your IQ, as it is measured here, is now approximately 240."

Mark thought about that, and random things that he had read over time flashed across his mind.

240.

"I'm a genius now?"

"Among your people, yes."

Mark thought hard about various shit, trying to solve physics problems and prove mathematical theorems. All to no avail.

"You lack only the information that your mind has to process before you can make such deductive and intuitive leaps, Mark." She twirled her hair as she watched him. He guessed that she could tell what he was thinking by his outward appearance: his furrowed brow and genius-like contemplation.

"No, actually, I read your thoughts," she said. "I'm inside you. I'm in your mind, and in your body. Or, parts of me are."

"You're not from around here," Mark said.

The laugh.

"Good deduction. But actually, I kind of am from around here," she said. "I've been here for hundreds of solar years. Waiting. Waiting for you."

Mark stood up and walked towards the river.

"I needed someone I could fully mold, Mark. Someone who, no offense, was starting as a less than perfect physical and mental example of the human species – someone who would consider the changes I was making in his body as a gift."

"You could have asked," Mark said. As he flexed his muscles he recognized the truth in her words but he felt that some show of truculence was required, if only to put her in her place.

"You were dying, Mark. Already unconscious when I got to you. I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to change you fast enough to prevent hypoxia."

There's that, Mark thought. He remembered blacking out after trying the useless inhaler.

Two little girls rounded the bend of the canal and headed their way. Mark again tried to cover his genitals.

"They will neither see us nor hear us, Mark," the woman said. And it was true: the girls walked right by Mark's naked body without even glancing at him.

"How did you do that?"

"I will teach you."

"What is your name?"

She stood up stretched languidly under the warm sun. "You may call me Helena, or simply Helen if you prefer," she said. Then her fingers went to the front of her jumpsuit and touched something, and the front of the suit opened from her neck all the way to her crotch. With a practiced little wiggle, the jumpsuit landed on the towel and she kicked it away and looked back at him.

"Wow," Mark said. She was completely nude and looked better than any model or porn queen he had ever seen. She was short, quite a bit shorter than he (although, with a start, Mark realized that he no longer had any idea how tall he was), but she was perfectly proportioned as far as he was concerned. Somewhat lean, except where it counted: her narrow waist expanded downward into hips that were wide and lovely, which further tapered down into fine, toned legs. Her breasts... My God, her breasts, he thought. They were huge and full but somehow managed to ride high on her chest as if defying gravity. Perhaps she can control that as well, he thought. They were capped with small dusky areolae and small nipples – just the way he liked them. Her mons was hairless and her slit was just that: a slit, with no protruding lips. Again, just the way he liked it.

Mark wondered what she looked like from behind, and she twirled around as though she were reading his mind. He mentally kicked himself: of course she's reading your mind, idiot. Helen chuckled.

Her ass. Her heart-shaped ass was the stuff of sculptures: round and full, muscled but soft. He realized that it, like her breasts and her mound, showed no sign of tan lines even though her skin appeared lightly colored by the sun.

An all-over tan must be easy to achieve when no one can see you, he thought. She turned back around to face him. Her breasts jiggled from the motion.

"Oh, sometimes I let people see me. It depends where I am. I'll admit, I get a little thrill out of exposing myself to people when they least expect it."

"Is that why you're naked now?"

She walked slowly towards him as she answered.

"No. Well, yes, but that's not the only reason. I removed my clothing because it makes having sex much easier."

"Sex?" Mark gulped. He had never had sex. At least, not with another person present. Well, that wasn't entirely true, either. His mother had caught him masturbating enough times at night or in the mornings when she came in to wake him for school, to the point where one morning she had simply sat down on the bed and asked him to continue as it would save her money on porn DVDs.

But this was quite different. Helen's gaze was hungry as she advanced on him, and as she looked down his eyes followed her gaze and he realized that his (now) large cock was fully erect and pointed straight at her.

"Why are we going to have sex?" he said. It sounded stupid as he said it.

"Why not? Your body seems to want it, and I definitely do. It has been a long time for me. A very long time. And, if I do say so myself, I've made you quite attractive." She finished her stalking and Mark felt her breasts and her legs and every part of the front of her pressed up against him. His penis was trapped against her tummy, and it felt wonderful.

Helen took his hand and kissed it, then slowly pulled him down onto the towel on top of her.

"I don't know what to do," Mark said shamefully. This woman deserved a better lover.

"I'll teach you," she said. "Start by doing the first thing you want to do."

Mark kissed her. He pressed his lips softly to hers, and opened his mouth just a little, and they kissed. She squirmed under him and he felt her tongue against his lips, then in his mouth, then touching the tip of his own tongue. In seconds, they were locked in a passionate embrace, tongues exploring each other. Mark's hand moved to cup her full breast, and when he rolled her small nipple she squealed into his mouth.

"Yes," she panted. "Pull my nipples." Mark obliged, using both hands now, and she squealed again. Then he realized there was something else he could do, so he moved lower and captured a nipple in his mouth and sucked while his hand continued pulling on her other breast.

"Oh, gods, yes," Helen panted.

Mark broke contact long enough to say, "I love your t... breasts, Helen, they are beautiful and perfect and huge!"

"And sensitive," she said. "And it's okay to call them 'tits'. It's what they are. And lovers should be able to say anything to each other."

Mark knew that the next step required him to go down on her, yet another thing he'd never done. He'd watched it in porn before (once, embarrassingly with his mother, during the process of the 'birds & bees' discussion) so he knew in concept what to do, but actually doing it - and being good at it – was a daunting prospect.

"No," she said. "Well, yes, definitely yes, but another time. Right now I want you in me." She emphasized this by spreading her legs and reaching down to grasp his cock and line it up with her core.

"Just push," she said. "Push and you'll be inside me. I'm so ready for you." She rubbed the tip of his cock up and down her slit, and he could feel the wetness. He pushed.

"Nnnngg!! Yes! Deeper!!"

It was a very tight fit, but Mark pushed deeper. Inch after inch of him sank into the – alien? Goddess? He didn't care. He was determined to get his whole cock buried into her as deeply as he could. The pleasure was incredible and like nothing he could have imagined.

Then inspiration hit him. He could do two things at once. He already knew that playing with her breasts gave her pleasure, so he slid one hand under her ass to allow him to continue pulling/pushing into her while his other hand went to one tit and his mouth went to the other. He pulled and sucked while he continued to push into her depths.

"Aaaahhh, gods!! Mark, yes, YES!!"

Her body thrashed beneath him and he was thrilled that he was giving her so much pleasure. Finally, his bare mound bumped against hers and as she gasped at the contact with her clitoris, he knew that he was fully buried in her.

"Gods, give me a second, you're stretching me so much," she said, breathing hard.

"Just how big did you make my cock?"

"I honestly don't know. Just... the right size for your new body. Maybe 20, 21 centimeters..."

"In inches, please."

"2.54 centimeters per inch, Mark."

"What? I've got an eight-inch cock now?"

"Maybe more. And thick. Now, what do you say you start moving it around some? I'm ready for you."

Mark quickly discovered that, even though he had no experience with sex, his body knew exactly what to do. He pulled his hips back a bit and then plunged into her again. And again. And again. And soon he was pulling most of his length out and slamming into her hard and fast.

"CUMMING!!" she yelled, and her body tensed under him and she released with a scream and thrashed so hard that he was afraid she would buck him off of her. He grabbed her ass with both hands and pulled her tightly to him as he continued to pummel her sex.

"CUMMING AGAIN, SHIT... YESSSS!!"

Helen orgasmed over and over and Mark, feeling nowhere near his release, continued to slam into the beautiful woman. He was surprised when she gently pushed him away.

"We're done?" he asked as he watched her roll onto her hands and knees, her ass pointed back at him.

"Oh, no," she said. "As this is your first time I feel an obligation to teach you some basics. Now, mount me from behind." She wiggled her perfect ass at him, and he moved to comply.

"YESSS, SO DEEP!" she sighed as he slid into her depths. He reached around her and grabbed her breasts and pulled her nipples as he began to move within her. Soon the clearing echoed with the sound of their slapping flesh.

He grabbed her hips and held on as he slammed into her tight, wet core. She alternated between pushing back against him and going rigid as she screamed out her pleasure. He looked down to watch his massive cock (well, compared to what he was used to having...) as it appeared, pulling her small delicate pussy lips out with it, only to disappear again into her warm depths as his hips smacked against her ass.

Hmmm, her ass. Her little star was occasionally winking at him. As an experiment, he pressed a thumb up against it.

"YESSS!! Play with my asshole, Mark!!"

Okay, he thought. I will. He reached farther down and gathered some of the slick fluid that was flowing out of Helen's cunt, rubbed it against her asshole, and pushed his thumb in all the way as he continued to pound his cock into her pussy.

Helen screamed her loudest scream yet and her arms and legs gave out and she collapsed flat onto the towel. Mark continued his assault, moving his cock and thumb with the same rhythm.

The two little girls who had passed them earlier had reversed their route and were headed back the way they came. Mark wondered whether he should stop fucking Helen as they came near, but he mentally shrugged and continued slamming into her. The girls stopped right in front of him and looked around.

"Do you hear something?" one said.

"Yes," the other said. "Very faint. It sounds like someone, somewhere, is being spanked."

This is surreal, Mark thought as he continued to fuck the blonde beauty. They are maybe three feet away from me. Helen screamed out another orgasm and he resisted the urge to clamp his hand over her mouth.

"Let's go home," the first girl said, and they walked on.

"They heard us," Mark said.

"My control slipped," Helen gasped. "Your fault."

Mark suddenly realized that they had been fucking hard for quite some time and he was nowhere near cumming. He started to say so but she spoke first.

"You can cum any time you want," she said. "You can hold off cumming as long as you want or you can cum right now, your choice."

"How?"

"It's like a little mental switch. Search for it."

He did, unsuccessfully.

"I'll help you," she said. "I'll 'press the switch' for you and you'll cum, and you'll know how to press it yourself next time."

He actually felt her in his mind, and could 'see' what she was doing. He instantly felt the urge to cum begin to build. He panicked as he realized that they were fucking bareback, and started to pull out.