Tower of Babylon Pt. 07

They were three bodies in motion with Okano being the center as the two others circled around in opposition. Bee never quite got a handle on Matt's wife, or her motivations, despite Rebecca's efforts to mediate. The Bellum City project was now entering its second year as they made the penthouse suite their home.

"She's from your world. Why doesn't she just relax? Such a busy body!" Bee opined. "She's great in bed, but her mind is crazy."

"Have you thought that you might be the one overthinking things?" Okano sighed.

The two of them were watching a telenovela on the couch in the main room. Matt was at the construction site and Norma was busy in meetings overseeing the project. She was pretty much in charge now though no one admitted it openly. There were times when she seemed to disappear for days at a time as she took care of mysterious duties. Bee would joke that she was having an affair but it would fall flat.

"You're looking tight," Okano noted. "How did you score an appointment with Fury anyways? He's booked out for years."

Bee ignored the question and popped up to switch the video wall and turn it to mirror mode. She posed so Okano could see all her angles, "I also got the full endocrine package. I'm going to volunteer for the new exhibit so I need to be in perfect shape to hold my pee for a whole day or so."

Okano seemed impressed, standing up so they could compare each other. She was tan compared to Bee's platinum finish that managed to not hit the uncanny valley, but just barely. "Are you okay with becoming a pure sex object? Make sure to follow the full therapy course, not just rely on the hormone balancers."

"I made the choice when I got on that bus to get away from the slums. I mean who can beat this, we're perfect," she latched onto Okano. If they were frozen in that moment, they would be perfect sculptures to be admired by some observer, perhaps God himself.

Okano did relate to the sense of a hopeless future and the appeal of a shining city even if it was ruled by demons where compromise down to the molecular level was the name of the game. Somewhere out there, there existed a perfect self in the shapeless void, and what they carved from the unforgiving universe was some semblance of that perfection, even in crude imitation, was better than the sea of chaos that had enveloped the world.

Nothing lasted however. Okano switched the wall panel to a news feed. The rumors of a new war filled the channels. The fragile peace between the Polity and the Protectorate was on the verge of collapse, with the former making serious allegation of breaches of trust against the latter. Okano wondered if their trip had something to do with the souring of relations although the Free states were neutral territory.

Bee blurted, "I don't want to see that depressing stuff!" She sat back down, mood soured.

Switching back to the porn soap opera, Okano smiled wanly but did not argue. She did add cryptically, "I heard that the gene-sculpted human is the ideal candidate for living in space. It's the only way to overcome the intense radiation and microgravity. Space is hostile to life. Being unable to surpass that hurdle, both technically and ethically, is why we never achieved a permanent presence out there last century."

Bee just looked at her as if she was crazy.

The arts pavilion was just about ready for its debut. Norma had wanted a test run with select guests including the bas relief wall installation made up of dozens of human figures. One of them would be Bee. There would be a little opening ceremony with standing tables set around the open plaza for drinks and light snacks for the guests as they enjoyed the living art while a live orchestra played background music. Each player could be taken home for a night as a gift to the patrons.

Norma wore a fancy silk garment that was made up of nearly invisible gossamer threads that sheaved her form, embedded with subtle pattern lights that floated about her like tiny silver motes. She had come early to check the installation on the panoramic wall of simulated stone that was actually a memory material that could be programmed into different textures and forms.

Currently, it acted as a substrate to embed the living sculptures. Bee was already in its grasp, only her outthrust torso exposed while her head and extremities were inside the material. A face mask gave her air and hydration on demand. She could not see outside but the mask could feed display information to her, including video and sound but the installation expected the participants to be fully immersed in the experience.

She had slowed her breathing and was in a pleasant trance, helped by the endocrine mods. She felt fingers gently stroking her belly and breasts.

A voice spoke in her ear monitor, "Tight as a drum. Good work."

Bee subvocalized, "Gee, thanks. By the way, thanks for the referral. Even Okano was jealous."

"Knowing the right people is a privilege. Keep it up and you might make it to second wife, hon," Norma responded.

"What if I make it to first wife?"

Norma laughed, "Good luck, though I'd say you're moving up fast." She patted Bee's pubic mound. She jerked reflexively.

Bee let herself relax into the evening as various hands stroked and prodded her. Only one person actually fucked her as the position was pretty awkward. Still, she let the hormone tap put her in a good mood. When someone pinched her nipples, it sent pleasurably shock waves through her nervous system, tuned to trigger at a low threshold. She came multiple times.

The evening petered off and it was clear that the event was over but the hours passed until morning, only interrupted on occasion as someone, maybe a janitor, passing by rubbed her perfectly sculpted body.

Matt had attended for a short moment to show his face. Norma beamed, sliding her arm through his. "How do you like it?"

"Amazing, as always," he praised. "I think this place suits you more than me." He had come to a decision but maybe this was the right moment to make the announcement. She pressed a finger to his lips.

She pointed to the wall, "Guess which ones are our two friends." Okano had also volunteered. He immediately recognized her ass, splayed with her entire body otherwise embedded in the pale memory stone. They'd powdered her tan skin to match the rest of the wall but the shape was unmistakable.

He patted it gently and Okano clenched her butthole in response as if saying hello.

Bee was a bit harder but he'd traced each of her well defined abs over the past few weeks and he finally settled on the outthrust torso, shimmering globes of her breasts tipped with subtle pink against the silvery skin. He nibbled them, wondering if she recognized his tongue.

Pastor was in attendance with his wife, Caria, as plus one. Matt had never actually met her before, she was a tall woman with brunette hair tightly pleated down her back and Slavic features. She wore tasteful high heels and made Norma seem overdressed. As a good host, she was making sure to let the guests overshadow her own assets.

"A fine exhibition," Pastor praised. He was a bit red in the face and already quite drunk. He gazed absently at the fake sky of the display canopy that enclosed Bellum City. "I might option one of the suites myself. Fine addition to the bottom line, I must say. The figures look impressive for the condo development in Bellum City. This might be a good place to retire, offsets the maintenance cost of a private mansion."

"Shush, sweetie," his wife gripped his arm to keep him steady. She distracted him by loosening the fly on his trousers, bringing out his half-interested member. After picking out a wall sculpture, another half-torso that stuck out of the wall with legs splayed and tip-toes on the floor tiles, she made sure he planted himself there for a few minutes.

"He'll be fine," she smiled. Norma switched to hooking her arm into Caria's so the three of them could move to a table. Matt grabbed a plate of cheeses as the two talked. He couldn't help but look for where Bee was. He found that he spent more and more time thinking about her these days but had been avoiding admitting the truth to himself for a long time. Before he could think further, Norma nudged him. He weighed Caria's breasts as a formal greeting: it was common courtesy after all. These social customs could be rather tiresome, he thought. Norma considerately offered herself to Pastor. Swapping wives was another such custom. The party wound down and he took Caria back to the penthouse while Norma did what she did best.

When a shooting war finally broke out, the project finances ended up in trouble, so things slowed down as economic uncertainty tanked the markets. Gladstone had to expense for more security forces around the megaplex as well as Bellum City as a precaution. There were partisans in the populace who might foment sympathetic strikes at any moment according to the analytics so they had to have a show of force. Flights were cancelled and tourist revenue dried up. Construction was put on hold and the existing pavilions were put on reduced operating hours.

Matt had little to do although Norma proceeded with endless logistics and planning sessions, including contingencies in case of the worst. Annabelle came down to visit from the Tower, her heady scent overpowering the penthouse. Bee grumpily murmured to Okano, "Why the hell is she here?"

Perhaps she had overheard but Annabelle smoothly announced, "I'd like to stay for a couple nights. It's not very fun over there. Everything is locked down."

Matt had his arms crossed, skeptical despite the fact that Annabelle was fellating him at the time, "They probably think you're a spy, which you are, by the way."

"I'd like to think I am a diplomat, of sorts," she made petulant moue as she paused her ministrations. "It's just as well as I didn't continue on to the Polity or I'd be a hostage. I may still be, depending on how Gladstone throws its weight."

"War is bad for business so my guess is they will do whatever makes it end quicker," he said darkly. It was true though, the C-suite executives would sell them all out if it made a profit. It was practically part of the Gladstone charter. At least they didn't have to contend with the same level of violent industrial espionage a pure tech company had to contend with. Some of those blossomed into undeclared wars of their own, mercenary teams mysteriously written off the books due to sudden "reorganization" or some other euphemism.

Bee was now somewhat inoculated against Annabelle's pheromones yet she still responded when beckoned. Annabelle's hands worked her over expertly sending stimulus feedback loops straight to her spine. When the woman squeezed Bee's nipples, her legs turned to jelly.

"Splendid uplift," Annabelle exclaimed. "What about your physical stamina including lactic acid management? ATP pumping should be standard..."

Bee bragged, "I can hold a rigid posture for several hours, no sweat."

"In that case," Annabelle clapped her hands. Some assistants cleared the living room floor and brought out a glass panel that was conveniently procured. Matt observed with some bemusement. Okano and Bee positioned themselves in parallel but opposite facings, lying supine with their knees folded back so their feet were at their buttocks and slightly arching their backs so their torso became the base of a table, breasts flattened under the glass. Bee slowed her breathing and emptied her mind as the attendants set up silverware on the surface. She recalled that this was the original job she'd been hired for when she went to the Tower: furnishings.

A multi-course dinner was served for Annabelle and Matt by the attendants who, as a group, retired to the bedroom to finish with a minor orgy as a digestive. Someone shut off the living room lights.

Bee let out a brief chuckle. Okano said nothing. This was a challenge they were both willing to accept. She was curious to see who would cry uncle first so Bee settled in for the night. They were like springs under load but they did not snap as the hours passed.

Somehow, Bee dozed off and on until the light of dawn began creeping through the balcony windows. A pair of attendants, yawning, came out to make breakfast, noticed the two still in their pose and removed the glass top. Bee winced, expecting pain as she unfolded but instead, a great endorphin high flooded her. Okano must have felt to the same, as the two immediately tumbled into each other to relieve the pent up energy. Their orgasms were spectacular.

Bee gasped, "I think I found a new fetish."

It became a long, but very satisfying weekend.

After that visit, Annabelle was unable to return for quite a while as her status changed for the worse, her heavy lifter confiscated. Matt managed to get a video call connection through security. She didn't seem too concerned despite being under house arrest, "My accounts are all frozen, so the airship is collateral for my expenses and they refuse to waive the docking fees. The interest alone has essentially bankrupted me, bare faced robbery. The curse of this lifestyle is that the bills add up, especially to support my staff. Dear me, I may have to sign a contract with Gladstone as a video star. Having you as a producer would be ..."

"What about your husband?" Matt interrupted.

"I don't know. He's never been out of contact for so long. The news out of the Protectorate is heavily censored, but the worst may have happened." For the first time, Matt saw what seemed to be actual worry leaking through her perpetually cheerful façade.

He'd heard through the rumor mill that the war had split the Protectorate into an internal schism, led by an upsurge of reactionary inquisitors who wanted to walk back the heresies to an earlier time. As if to distract herself, Annabelle asked, "How are the two doing with the toys I left them?"

"I'll check to see how they are marinating."

They were both in a suspension rig, fully wrapped in skin tight leather that covered both of them head to toe, sealing them together while they were planked one on top of the other. They could not move except against each other in an ongoing edging battle of the smallest twitches. The rule was they could not be freed until the first one climaxed. Matt swung them by the chains until he could pull an ear flap open on the mask. He asked Bee as sweat dribbled out, "Are you done yet?"

It had been almost two full days and counting. There was a muffled reply. He unzipped the mouth hole. He imagined steam coming out as she gurgled, "Not yet. A little more and I think I have her. Stop touching me or I'm going to lose it." Matt was tempted to end the game by unzipping their fuck holes but decided against it.

"This isn't dangerous is it?"

"It's fine. Close me back up." He did as asked. On top, Okano's face was hidden under her own matching mask though she had turned her blank face in his direction during the short conversation. He decided not to bother her concentration. The rig seemed to creak a bit but he didn't know if it wasn't just him letting go of the chain to allow them to hang free once more. They'd trigger the release signal when they were ready. Their vitals were also being monitored so they should be fine though he had been getting worried that they'd hurt themselves.

Hours later, Bee won by finishing second. Okano's eyes were wild as she was helped by a couple maids to the baths to wash and rehydrate, "I want a rematch. Two out of three!"

Bee, slippery with sweat as she was peeled from the suit, only raising a thumb as she still quivered from the chain orgasm. Matt was a bit jealous, enough that he was motivated to get an appointment to a skin cutter. He wanted to join the challenge at some point but he had a long climb to catch up to their level. Yet, he couldn't let Norma pull all the weight either.

Matt remotely joined the weekly project status meeting. Pastor's face seemed to have aged a couple years, "It's a global counter-revolution. Totally blind sided the analysts. It must have been brewing for a while under the surface. Did you sense anything during your trip?"

Matt shook his head. Security had been tight. If there was dissent, it had been well hidden. Or perhaps, it had to be, under the oppressive eye of the first families.

Pastor continued, "Well. These things happen, history goes in cycles I'm afraid. The serfs rose up a bit quicker than expected over there. Don't you worry, although we had to scale back, Bellum City is still a success as a final bastion if and when the Protectorate falls. We have high bidders wanting a piece as a hedge in case the rest of the world falls to this wave of puritanical madness. It was a wise choice to have the zoning set as a production venue. In fact, this whole thing will be good for business in the long run-religious prudes are the best consumers of porn."

The chaos spread to the Free states as security forces had to quell protests in the slums, fires pouring inky black smoke into the ominous sky within view of Bellum City. The Polity was throwing its weight around, insisting on reforms as part of the global revolution.

In the next few weeks, the Protectorate finally called for peace talks as the triumphant opposition had gained the upper hand in overthrowing the ruling oligarchy. The feeds were full of images of lewd artwork being defaced, women in full sackcloth and head coverings marching through the streets, breaches in the city walls, smoke puking from smashed mansions of the elite as jubilant mobs ransacked them, assisted by turncoat security forces. It was a class war as much as a puritan backlash, as the ruffians demanded equal access to women as they looted the estates of the first families.

As was usual in such things, the tide had turned when the military had thrown their lot against their masters, speed running the fall of Rome in weeks instead of centuries.

In one of the news clips, Matt could have sworn that he recognized a bloodied Jonathan Weaver being dragged along a string of naked men, his cybernetics mostly disabled before the image was cut off by a spittle-spewing inquisitor who blocked the camera sensor.

The Polity framed the war as an intervention, sending "peace" troops to assist in humanitarian aid and restore order. There were endless public sham trials where the crimes of the Protectorate leadership were read out.

The corporate Free states could not totally ignore this sea change in the global order. An emergency board meeting was held which Matt attended from his private office, Norma seated next to him. The conference room was located in the Tower but only about a third of the executives were there physically.

The current acting CEO, Malcom Stafford, announced that Milton Pastor would be announcing his retirement, much to Matt's surprise. A murmur broke out as Pastor gave a short speech, "I know it seems sudden but I have been looking forward for more personal time for quite some while. Circumstances may have accelerated the process, but I feel that the company will have the best resources to continue forward. With that, I have recommended a replacement, groomed for this day. Our future lies with Bellum City, radiant enough to shine as a beacon on this turbulent ocean."

There was an air of expectancy as he gave a dramatic pause. Matt broke out in a sweat, dreading what may come next. Could Pastor be talking about him?

Pastor's eyes seemed to glisten, "Gladstone has always had opportunity for all. It warms my heart to continue this tradition by announcing Mrs. Norma Arnold as the new Director of Operations for both Bellum City and Gladstone Headquarters. Her exceptional talents have made her invaluable, so we have expedited her on boarding to the executive level. In the next few weeks, I will be transferring my floor at the tower for her use."