Watch Your Tongue

"Don't be afraid, Alba." Geena kissed the side of her neck. "The tests have softened in the last decade, so it's mostly getting tickled and trying not to laugh."

"It was easy for me, since I never laugh at anything." Bec said. "Except the face of danger."

The trio sat up on the bed facing each other, legs folded across each other, their pussies all facing towards each other. Bec held the vibrator straight down into the tiny triangle formed between their three pussies. Alba bucked at the contact, but Geena and Bec held her in place.

"How long can you hold out, babe?" Bec taunted Alba.

Alba responded with a wet kiss as she pulled Bec in close. Geena wasn't about to be left out as the trio rubbed their tongues against each other, slinging spit everywhere. They pulled in each other closer with their off arms, the wand now held in place between their three pussies, their legs stretched across each other like a lattice-top pie.

Watching Alba's abs tense and her ribs appear from breathing so hard... the answer soon became clear: not very long. After less than a minute of kisses and intense clitoral stimulation, Alba howled, shaking like an unbalanced washer. The two agents tried to hold her still, but they lost grip of her small, slippery body. She got loose and curled into a quivering ball at one side of the bed. When her shaking subsided, Bec placed a hand on her shoulder.

"This is a bold question, even for me, but..." Bec asked. "Do you use a vibrator?"

"No..." She denied, between long deep pants. "They open your mail here. How would I get one?"

"Well, the way you took hold of it and wiggled it... it sure feels like you've used one of these before."

Alba looked mortified. She'd never had to learn how to keep cool when being asked incriminating questions.

"I thought someone of your ingenuity might've just built one." Geena said.

That thought had never occurred to Alba. How blinkered she really was, to not think to use her skills to solve this problem. The real story of her getting her little buzzing friend into the Institute... wasn't one for polite company.

"No wonder you're so sensitive." Bec rubbed a finger across Alba's bare flank. "I can't wait to harden you and make you a joyless husk like me." She menaced the shaking bulb of the wand centimeters away from Alba's pussy.

With startling speed, Alba pulled the vibrator from Bec's hand and threw it aside. It was the most effective disarming move Bec had seen... in a bed, at least. She'd like to see the tape on that one to see how Alba had done it.

Alba climbed up onto the others. She couldn't hold herself up with her arms, because both hands had found their way downward. "You agents... always looking to solve problems with gadgets... when using your well-trained bare hands should work just fine..." Alba growled as she wiggled both her hands into their pussies.

Geena's face had softened at the touch, though Bec's was still a stern mask of unexpressed emotions. But Alba's hands were strong... and quite skilled. She was known for knowing just how to manipulate tiny little bits however she wanted.

Of course, the agents had experience with this, too. Once Alba's skilled hands had broken down her walls a bit and left her involuntarily moaning and making faces... Bec brought her hand up to Alba's groin. While not delicate, Bec had trained to make her hands quite strong... and fast. She rubbed her hand back and forth across Alba's southern region quite rapidly. Her hands doubled as weapons all the time... why not also classify them as vibrators?

Alba clenched her teeth and kept up her work as Bec was rubbing her. Bec turned her head to the side and lashed her tongue out in front of her, tangling it with Geena's. The three of them held on as long as they could until they all orgasmed about the same time. The agents grunted discreetly, enjoying it no less than Alba had. Alba squealed and rolled around the bed, her limbs mostly limp like spaghetti. She came to rest like a wobbly dessert between her two new lovers, twitching involuntarily before drifting off into the most restful afternoon nap she'd ever had.

Alba was sound asleep as the two agents conferred with each other.

"So... what do you think of the new plaything we got from Props?" Bec smirked.

Geena looked down to Alba's face pressed into her breasts, one of Geena's hands woven into her blonde hair. "Oh... I think SHE'S the one with the new playthings."

---

A few days had passed since the little 'experiment' with the pheromones. Alba failed to return that day, even though she had every intention of doing so. But she was back the next day. Nobody brought up her sudden absence. Working for the Institute was a little bit like working for a tech startup in that way. There was no tyrannical enforcement of 'hours' or 'break time.' The Institute simply always selected self-motivated people who would get the work done in a reasonable time frame.

After such an adventure, one might think Alba would have a new demeanor, or maybe even a new wardrobe to show off more of the body that had been deemed so worthy by two sexy ladies. Break out the garters and the push-up bras! She'll make the company calendar next year for sure!

Alba did not do that. The only thing new about Alba's personal setup was a brand new pair of ear-covering Bluetooth headphones. Sometimes, she'd put on music or a podcast... but mostly, they were just there to protect her ears from other sounds in Props... or anything flying towards her ears.

Alba wasn't even set significantly back by her afternoon off. She was right back on schedule, poised at her desk over a new watch product. She set each miniature screw in each hole, turning them each a few turns at a time to set everything evenly. She took the body of the watch in her hand and snapped the bezel in place on the back. She inspected her work with her loupe and wiped the product with a soft cloth to remove her fingerprints from the glass face.

She was very satisfied with her work. It was just as perfect as a picture in a magazine... except this one would create a miniature fireball to ignite someone standing nearby (when loaded with the proper fuel). Alba personally thought the tiny butane torch had more utility, but that was better for cutting rather than actually starting fires. Of course, she'd have to ask some agents which they thought would be more useful.

The lights on her cubicle flicked to green. Alba looked up, taking off her new headphones and setting them on a hook near her monitor. Speak of the devil, she thought.

Geena and Bec had come to visit her in Props. Most of the other engineers were staring at them. Most agents got accompanied by the quartermaster when entering Props, mostly to stop them from carelessly breaking something that took six years and millions of dollars to engineer.

"Hey." Alba said softly. "What's up? What brings you out here to Props?"

"We're hungry." Geena said. "Do you want to get some... lunch?"

Alba checked the watch that she was working on. She always made sure they were set to the right time, unless they didn't have their battery installed. It was about one-thirty, a bit past lunch time. Perhaps this was embarrassing for the watch specialist to admit... but Alba had lost track of time.

"Sure thing." She locked her computer with a quick key combination and stood up from her chair. She reached for her lab coat that was across the backrest of her chair.

"Oh, you don't need to bring that." Bec said with a wide smile that made Alba's heart race.

"Sure, don't get mustard on the coat." Geena coaxed her away from her desk.

"I'd rather get it on my coat than this sweater..." Alba said as they tried to whisk her away. They were halted in their tracks by someone standing between them and the exit.

"What are you doing in here?" Taylor asked, standing in their way, holding her hands at her hips. It was as if she was offended by the notion that she was no longer the most beautiful person in the room.

"We're the security detail assigned to one of the Institute's most valuable assets." Geena said, putting her arm around Alba's shoulders. "We heard someone was bullying her, so we're here to make sure she doesn't miss out on her lunch date."

"Yeah. AND we sex her up on the regular." Bec said, slightly louder. "Let's not leave that unspoken." Bec finally eyed up the tall brunette standing near. "Nice work on that pheromone stuff, Tay-Tay." She teased. "That really scrambled my brain. I'm not even straight anymore!"

Taylor stared at her. "That... that was just a prank." She confessed. "There was nothing special in that tube! It was just Obsession for Women. Pheromones don't really work that way. They can't just turn you gay! We've known that since the Cold War!"

Alba stood up and got in Taylor's face. This was the part of the movie where the young geek decks whoever had bullied them, thus accepting the use of the violence that they had once faced at the hand of her tormentor.

Despite making a variety of things that effortlessly kill people, Alba still didn't like violence. Besides, Alba's punch would probably bounce off her like a marshmallow. Thus, she took a different approach.

Alba brought both hands up to Taylor's cheeks, took hold, and pulled her in for a long kiss. Taylor whimpered as Alba slowly closed her wet lips on hers, a few much softer moans only heard (really, felt) by Alba alone.

"I forgive you." Alba whispered with her lips and nose still pressed against Taylor's.

Alba stepped back, and left Props with both agents walking on either side of her, putting their hands on the small of Alba's back.

Taylor was left behind, flustered and disoriented, with everyone in Props staring at her. She thought she understood chemistry, but had no explanation for what had brought on Alba's reaction.

"It... it was a prank..."

---

"So, what do you want to do for lunch?" Geena asked as they strolled down the concourse.

"I'd like real food this time, instead of a pretense for sex." Alba said. "I'm actually really hungry."

"Me, too." Bec slapped her back. "We are going to fill you up with protein and get you buff. Then you won't need us to come here and stop those bullies kicking over your sandcastle."

"Yeah, but after lunch, we should probably go fuck somewhere." Geena pulled Alba in closer. "Seeing you kiss Taylor like that got me all hot..."

"Yeah, me, too..." Bec leaned in, rubbing her cheek against Alba's.

"You girls can go after her if you want." Alba insisted. "I won't be jealous."

"Nah." Bec said. "I'm only interested in screwing nice women from now on."

"Well, it's a good thing I'LL still fuck bitches, because that would leave you out." Geena teased.

"Oh, whatever. You're still the world's biggest bitch."

Alba pulled her arms in close, as she always did when she was intimidated. Getting caught between these two was scary sometimes... but when they were in a more loving mood, it could be good fun. Maybe this wasn't a healthy relationship... or maybe it was very healthy. But she was happy to be part of it for now.

Before they reached the commissary, there was a noise off in the distance. It sounded like one of those electric golf-carts slamming into a potted plant, or something hitting the mostly hollow plastic facade of the soda machines...

"What was that?" Alba walked off a little faster to investigate.

The pair of agents looked at each other like proud parents. "Look who's going off on a mission..." Geena whispered.

The trio quickly found the source of the noise. The enormous agent Hamilton Blancpain had someone up against one of the Coke machines, a bit of blood smeared among the red and white surface. Hamilton's hand was about as big as the man's head, while his other hand had twisted the man's arm into an unreasonable position. Once again, cans had scattered all about the floor. At least this time, it wasn't Alba's fault.

Someone familiar with the work of the Institute would think for all the world that Hamilton Blancpain had lost his temper because the man who fills the soda machines didn't have the flavor he wanted. But even Alba knew him better than that.

"What's going on?" Geena asked, rushing close... but not so close as to be in the range of a surreptitiously hidden knife on the man.

"Need any help?" Bec got a step closer, hands held out defensively.

Hamilton glanced to acknowledge the trio of women. "I think I've got this under control, but I thank you for your continued vigilance."

The man snarled and twitched under Hamilton's stone-like muscles. He looked like a dog chewing at his leash.

Alba peered between the two agent's shoulders. "What's he got in his mouth?"

Hamilton reassessed the situation. "On second thought, Bec, could you gently pull back on his hair?"

Bec sneered. "Gently..." She muttered. She dug her five fingers into the man's hair and pulled out from him. With Hamilton's knee on his back, the man bent like a palm tree. He cried out and thrashed about like an ensnared animal, but Hamilton pulled down on the man's mandible with one hand and reached into his mouth with the other. With his giant fingers, he took hold of a back molar and pulled it out with his fingers.

Alba nearly jumped back at the sight. It was more impressive than summoning a coin from behind his ear. The man screamed in protest, but not even Hamilton was giving a sympathetic ear.

"Don't pretend like that tooth was in that tight." Hamilton said. "Or if it that really did hurt, I'm sorry, but I can't let you kill yourself. That's never the answer." He turned to the others, holding the fake tooth out with his fingers. "Would either of you have someplace to hold this so it can be disposed of properly?"

"I've got the plastic bag I put my Wheat Thins in this morning." Alba volunteered, her hand entering the pocket of her slacks to find it.

"That should work just fine." Hamilton smiled. "I don't like single-use plastic, but in this case, it works out for the better for safety." Alba pulled open the zipper-topped bag and let Hamilton drop the fake tooth inside.

In what seemed like a late response, a nearby set of double doors burst open and six security team guards armed with rifles marched onto the concourse. The security detail were clad in gray and blue camouflage fatigues, combat vests and blue berets. A pair from the security team grabbed him each wrist and folded them behind his back, locking them in unpickable electronic cuffs.

Only now that the security team had it under control did Hamilton step away from the situation, holding something gingerly with his fingertips. It looked like a commercial fitness watch.

"Had to jam this in there like a ball gag so he wouldn't bite the cyanide capsule." Hamilton said. "It's all I had to hand. I would've used my faux-leather dream journal, but I left it at the counselor's office by mistake."

Hamilton set his giant hand on Alba's shoulder. She gasped at the sudden contact, as he gently swept her to one side, away from the other agents. They were both momentarily distracted by a half-dozen guards still struggling to subdue a single handcuffed man. Bec looked about ready to flatten the man's nose until he looked like Owen Wilson walked into a door, but she'd been instructed that hitting a handcuffed suspect was 'wrong' and 'technically battery.'

"Alba, I wanted to take you aside for a second." The soft-spoken agent spoke even softer. "I heard you say that all men are so gee-dee stupid, and that didn't make me feel good."

"I'm sorry. I was mad. And horny." Alba apologized. "I didn't really mean it."

"It's alright. I'm big enough to take it, but I definitely didn't want to leave any unresolved resentment between us." Hamilton took a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his watch clean. The enemy agent's teeth didn't seem to damage it.

"If you wanted..." Alba pointed. "I could put all that smartwatch tech in one of your mission watches."

Hamilton thought about this, bringing his large hand to his square jaw. "Nah, let's save the room for one more micro-missile or something else cool. Thank you for the offer. I know you do truly excellent work over there."

Hearing Hamilton Blancpain praise her would normally have played a substantial part in her late night fantasies. It still might. But for now, Alba maintained control and simply smiled and accepted the compliment.

Bec and Geena moved back over towards Alba, watching the guards finally start frog-walking the intruder off to parts unknown.

"Who was he?" Alba asked.

"Enemy agent of some kind. Must have compromised the Coke delivery somehow." Hamilton said.

"How did you know he was an agent?" Geena asked.

He pointed off into the distance, as security forces guided him along, his hands lashed behind his back, thumbs pointing down to the floor.

The other agents didn't immediately notice anything amiss, but a lifetime of searching for small details and a career of fashioning things for people's wrists made it jump out to Alba.

"His hands are on the wrong sides!"

---

Things don't always move quickly at the Institute. Evil forces hope that the fear and confusion from outbreaks of violence inspire irrational action. The Institute resists this, only acting quickly yet rationally when dire consequences loom.

Then again, to use the metaphor of a house... if you heard someone breaking a window and entering your home, you would not hesitate to reach for the telephone... or the firearm.

This incursion onto the Institute had lit a fire under Direction, the administration and 'heads' of the Institute. Everyone had been alerted to the danger, sweeps of the entire facility were made, and a meeting was called.

Lucky for our trio, they had time to get lunch before the meeting. But they didn't have time to have sex, much to Bec's immense annoyance. All agents on site that were not otherwise engaged were called in for a briefing at the Mainstage, the largest conference room in the institute.

Hundreds of people had turned up for this briefing. They were not divided into departments; everyone just sat wherever they wanted like a classroom. Alba found herself between her two new agent friends and with Hamilton not far off. She could not shake the feeling that she'd somehow gotten sat at the cool kid's table.

Behind the podium at the center of the small meeting room was a smallish balding man with a mustache and enormous glasses. His suit fit him, but somehow didn't cling to his form handsomely the way the agents' tuxedos all did. He certainly didn't give the vibe of a former agent... unless they let five-foot-five men become agents in the eighties so they could fit in storm drains or successfully go undercover in a Lord of the Rings cosplay contest.

This was G. Wilson Michaels, Deputy Director or Intelligence at the Spy Partnership Institute. An emergency meeting had been called for many senior staff after the intrusion of an unknown foreign agent into their secret facility.

As Michaels would explain in his presentation... the source of this was not quite so unknown after all.

"Ever hear that old cliché that some technology should not be allowed to fall into the wrong hands?" Said Michaels in his slightly froggy voice. There was no way he came from the wetworks side of the business. This guy couldn't scare a mouse. "Well, those very hands are what we're up against."

On the projector behind them, a name formed word by word as he read it aloud. The Worldwide Renegade Network of Greed, Homicide, Nonfeasance, Disorder and Sabotage. It spelled out the acrostic WRNGHNDS.

"WRNGHNDS appears to be our counterpart on the world scene. We are dedicated to opposing autocracy, conflagration and chaos. We're not always on the side of America, but those values are pretty close to what we strive for... which is why we're sometimes in opposition of them, too, when they fail to live up to those standards. WRNGHNDS believes in might making right, the end of personal freedoms and eventually... world dominion. Failing that... I'm sure they'll be satisfied to steal enough money for comfort in the world that we... hope to protect.