You Only C.U.M Once (Pt. 05)

The woman on the film was indistinct -- hazy. She was standing behind some kind of curtain, and fog machines were blowing, while the bright crimson light that cast over everything had clearly come from some hastily set up store bought lamps and some red plastic sheeting. The whole thing should have come off as unbearably cheap and fake...but something in the angle, in the way the woman stood, and the presence she had...

It made it oddly effective in casting the footage in a terrible, threatening way.

I frowned as I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to look as if it wasn't working on me. Next to me, Michelle was doing the almost exact same thing and I almost burst out laugh as I realized just how similar we were.

"For thousands of years, the rich have ruled over the poor. The powerful has ruled over the weak. The evil over the good." The woman's voice was a modulated croon, masking what her accent might have actually been underneath a faint buzzing and mechanical overtone...but I couldn't help but immediately clock her as an S-treatment babe. She just had too much damn stage presence.

Oh, don't be so sure about that, a part of me that sounded remarkably similar to Amanda muttered. Remember Amanda?

Right.

The S-treatment made you better at a ton of shit. But any baseline human could beat you, if they were the best in their field. It was something that we S-Agents had to be reminded of again, and again, and again, but to be fair, it was so damn easy to forget that when you were balls deep in some cutie while her daughter made out with her. Not that I was talking from experience or anything!

The woman on the screen was continuing. "That changes. In the past week, I've taken out dozens of the power brokers that rule this world. The wealthy and the powerful, the CEOs and politicians that serve their interests, the commanders of fiscal institutions that deprive the common man of his future and livelyhood and before any of you alt-right fuckers who are listening to this get any goddamn ideas, I do not mean fucking Jews! If any of you show up, I am going to snap your fucking necks!"

"Okay, I kinda like her," I said, and Michelle chuckled, holding out her hand for a low five.

"All governments of the world, you have three days to begin the process of dismantling the corporations of the world and providing all the material resources that the poor have been deprived of...or else...the blasts start coming once more." The woman said, then brushed the curtain up and out of the way, revealing her thighs. For a second, I thought she was dark skinned, but then I realized she was actually wearing a skintight black leotard. Her bulge, though, put paid to any wonders about whether or not she was an S-treatment babe.

But...

Okay.

S-Treatments made you hot as fuck, and I have to admit, my cock game got a hell of a lot better since I started taking the hormone. But even though I was now packing a terrifying amount of sheer girlmeat to plow into just about anyone who wanted it, even I didn't have balls that glowed.

They glowed!

Right through her jumpsuit. Just seeing the faint shimmer of them made my mouth water slightly with the idea of getting down before...no! Bad Kimmy! I shook my head as the woman continued her threat.

"You can never predict who I'll have chosen. Who I will have seduced. You can't find me. You can't stop me. All you can do is fear...the Anarchsex!"

The film stopped.

"A bit forced on the name, huh?" I asked.

"Yeah," Michelle said, rolling her eyes.

"Shame about the ideological framework," Kate said, sighing quietly as she tapped off the screen. The three of us were gathered around the telescreens in the old island fortress that we'd secured. Well. Okay. That me and Michelle had almost smashed and Kate had secured. With the generators running again and the most habitable part of the base cleared out a bit, it wasn't a half bad place to settle down and collect ourselves -- and it had a communication array that had gotten us in touch with TASK, who had dropped this little bombshell on us.

"Yeah," I said, standing up and stretching, groaning as my spine popped loudly. "You can't just take all those dipshit corporations apart, right? Like, that can't work."

"Oh, no, it's not that," Kate said, drawing her legs up underneath her as she tossed her head, flipping some of her bright red hair behind one shoulder. "The issue, see, is that she has it completely backwards. Other than that, she's a hundred percent in the right and...honestly, it's a bit of a shame we're on opposite sighs." She sighed. "Cest la vi."

Michelle arched an eyebrow. "Zuh?"

Kate chuckled. "Oh. My apologies, I forgot, I'm a touch out of time..." She said. "You likely haven't done much reading on your Marx and Mao."

"Nope," Michelle said.

"I think I seduced an anarchist girl once," I said, shrugging slightly. "Though, wait, how the fuck did you read Marx in the 60s, when it was all...you know..." I tried to indicate the constant paranoia and terror of the Cold War with a pair of fingerguns. Kate took my meaning with a laugh and a shake of her head.

"Know thy enemy," she crooned. "That's what got me to read Milton Friedman!" She chuckled. "See, that's..." She shook her head. "Nevermind. A silly jape. Now, the answer is that the corporations that she rails against don't have even half the power that the governments that she is trying to intimidate do have. Corporations have no nuclear weapons or armies or diplomatic apparatus. Well. Okay. They do have mercenaries, but you can surely see the difference between Blackwater and the United States Marine Corps, yes?" She smiled as we both nodded. I took my seat next to Michelle, and Michelle unconsciously leaned against me. "The reason why it seems that corporations run America is that the American state has the same interests and goals as those corporations -- but the true power is with the government, which sets the policies and dictates the economic structures that allow those corporations to work. She is quite literally railing at the hand, and not the heart or the head." She tapped her temple.

I laughed, softly. "Also, lets not forget...she's turning totally innocent ladies into bombs." I glanced over at Lisa, who was curled up on the sofa in the rec room we were using for out little briefing.

"Hm. Yes." Kate sounded a bit less than concerned. She picked up a martini glass from where she had left it before hitting play. I wasn't sure where in the base she had found some fine fixings for drinks, but they all tasted great, and went down fantastic after all our little adventures. "TASK is stretched for agents -- we don't have enough people to check over every pretty relation or servant of every wealthy man on the planet. And our superiors are refusing to convince the governments of the world to work with Anarchsex's entirely reasonable demands...so..." She paused. "What do you think we should do, Kimberly? Michelle?"

The two of us thought for a moment -- I no longer felt the burning need to be the first person to throw up my hand and impress teacher. Instead, I wanted to actually have the impressive idea!...to impress teacher.

"Find the plane," Michelle said, nodding. "Anarchsex has goons that are helping her out -- but we don't know where she's hired them from, or what her base is. Since they shot us down, we should get some revenge, and maybe find a way to track her down."

"Problem," I said, and to my shock, it was because I had actually thought of a problem, not because I wanted to show up Michelle. She snuggled against me more with a grumble, even as I lifted a finger to indicate I should be allowed to go on. "Problem: We have Lisa. She's tuckered out and definitely not up for an attack on an island base. But we can't just leave her here."

Kate nodded, slowly, then rubbed her finger along her chin. "It seems to be, we have a solution. This base has enough radio communication devices that I could...heh...handle you from here, taking care of Lisa, while you and Michelle make an attack on the enemy fortifications. And this means, furhtere, you two can both demonstrate your abilities without me riding your butts the whole time."

"Yeah!" I said, grinning, while Michelle wriggled free from her snuggles to stand.

"I'll get more bad guys," she said.

"No, I will!" I said, playfully, then shot a little smirk at my mentor. "And another advantage to this plan is you get extra time to, shall we say...fuck the hell out of the aristocrat?"

"I admit, the Scotts in me does rather find the idea of training a English aristo to be a proper cocksleeve rather appealing..." Kate crooned, her voice holding a dangerous edge of almost seriousness -- which she shattered with a gay laugh. "Oh, but that would be cruel. I'll merely teach her the proper art of etiquette and deportment when spending time with S-agents."

"And that's different from being a cocksleeve how?" Michelle asked as she stretched her arms above her head.

"Why, my dear Michelle," Kate said, her voice a dangerous croon. "Cocksleeves never retire."

***

"What was Dr. Ice's or Dr. Frost or whatever's whole gimmick?" I asked as me and Michelle hauled open one of the armory doors. Another massive set of firearms -- all of them rusted over and salt encrusted thanks to a less than perfect seal. A cute crab scuttled around the corner, blinking its crabby eyes at the two of us as it stood in a beam of bright white sunlight. "Was it frost?"

"Dunno," Michelle said, frowning as she swept her flashlight -- a heavy duty clunker that looked like it had come straight from the 60s, which she had salvaged from another part of the base -- around the armory. Nothing shone back but rust, rust, and more rust. "Fuck. Some of these are M16s, with the underslung grenade launcher -- old school, but still nice." She shook her head. "This place is a bust. Next armory?"

"She must have been gearing up for something huge," I said. "...you ever wonder how many S-treatments get into the bodies of megalomaniacs? You'd think that TASK would lock that shit down, right?"

"I think some of them are escapees," Michelle said. "I mean, you were almost a super-genius villain, weren't you?"

"I was...cloooooooose," I admitted, grinning. "Senior year of high school got so boring. You?"

"I ran away from home when I was sixteen and my hobby was toppling Central American cartels," Michelle said as the two of us came to the next armory. This one opened with a rush of air -- gushing in past us both, enough to cause our hair to rustle. Both of us looked at one another. Then what Michelle had said penetrated.

"Dang, girl," I said, laughing, as we stepped into the vacuum sealed room and there, we both whistled the exact same low wolf whistle.

The room was stocked.

Fucking...

Stocked.

Not just with guns, though there were racks of M16s, XM-174 grenade launchers, Dragunov sniper rifles, L7 machine guns, HK2 light machine guns, sleek pistols that ranged from Makarovs to Glocks, and oh, heaven help me, there were so many nice looking guns. But they took up half the room. The other half of the room had a sleek looking...bright red...brand new looking 250 GTO Ferrari that looked like it had rolled out of the 60s just as fine and fancy as Kate fucking Thorton. There was a micro-helicopter, a jetpack, and what looked like two racks of harpoon guns, with harpoons and a skintight armored scooba suit.

"What the fuck was this lady's deal?" I whispered.

"I wanna meet her and fuck her and fucking thank her and thank her...by fucking," Michelle said, walking over to the car, putting her palm on it before I could call out to her.

Her fingers touched the car and the entire thing sparked. White lightning flashed on it and Michelle was flung back and away, crashing into my body as I hastily got behind her, flinging my arms around her, holding her as her body went completely taut, then sagged limp. Smoke roiled from under her hair and, slowly, she groaned. "Fucking ow..." She whispered, her eyes closed tight as I helped her to her feet.

"How did you know that was going to happen?" Michelle grumbled.

"Guessed," I said, shaking my head, then looking around the room, I pointed. "Come on, there has to be keys that work in those misc goods."

We both hurried over to the corner of the room where several very chic looking white tables that were all swoopy, overlapping circles. On them rested watches, pens, and strange oblong objects. I picked one of those objects up -- and realized it was heavy and glittered with a silvery sheen. I frowned and eyed it, then pocketed it, while Michelle picked up the clunky looking watch in the middle of the table, tapping it.

"What the hell is this?" she asked.

The watch flickered and Kate's face appeared on it. "Ah, you've found a functioning comm watch, excellent," she said. "I haven't seen these since I was on ice."

"Kate!" I said. "What the fuck was this lady's deal?"

"I believe that The Ice Queen, also known as Dr. Cold War, also known as Elisa Cryo, also known as the Sixties Mistress...was a bit of an aficionado for my era of TASK," Kate said, her eyes darting to the side, as if she was reading off a page beside the screen in her headquarters. "I've found her documents -- the surviving ones. It seems the majority of her time was spent in rebuilding these old gadgets and gizmos and trying to avoid being arrested by TASK."

As she spoke, I latched my watch on. "Wait, she wasn't trying to take over the world? Why was TASK going after her?"

"I mean, how can you tell the difference between an madwoman trying to take over the world by stockpiling shit and a fucking loser ass nerd who thinks this shit's cool?" Michelle asked, picking up a pen and fiddling with it. The pen squirted out a spurt of greenish goop against the wall, which began to hiss and bubble before, shortly, a hole was burned straight through it. Michelle gaped at the wall, then squealed. "This is so-" She saw my expression. "...fucking...shitty...retro..." She grumbled.

"Going to take off the comm watch then?" I asked, adjusting it.

"No, fuck you!" Michelle said, then laughed.

I shouldered her, then picked up more of the silver bits, pocketing them until I could figure out what the fuck they were for. Michelle took the acid pen, a red pen of similar construction, and picked up what looked, for all the world, like a yoyo. I grabbed onto a little set of jangling car keys with the letters IQ on the side. I grinned, held the keys up, whispering to them. "Thanks Cryo."

I turned back to the car, then turned the key on it. The door opened and I slid in, smelling the fresh, new car smell, vacuum sealed and preserved over all these years. I slid the key into the ignition and turned it, and heard the quiet purr of the engine coming to life. As I did so, the wood paneled dashboard whirred open with a sudden flurry of motion, revealing a flat paneled screen and a pair of heavy duty speakers. A pair of rotating lines went back and forth along the upper and lower edge of the screen, and there were toggles, switches, and buttons beneath the screen.

"What are you?" I whispered.

"Good -- afternoon -- Miss - Cryo," a smooth, cultured voice came from the speakers -- I could hear a faint clip between each word, as if they were being strung together, word by word, to form a sentence on the fly. My ears perked and...yes, I could hear the faint reeling of a tape deck in the back. My mouth opened and closed as Michelle slid into the passenger seat, sighing happily as she set down an M16, a few pistols, and began to clip on the grenade launcher.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Good -- afternoon -- Miss -- Cryo's -- Guest," the tape player said.

"What?" Michelle yelped.

"Are -- you -- experiencing -- audio -- errors?" The voice asked.

"No, Kit," I said, without thinking. "I mean, uh, no, no, we can hear you. My guest..." I grinned at Michelle. "Just wants to hear your technical specifications."

"Very -- well -- Miss -- Cryo," the tape said, before clicking and whirring. Then, a moment later, a similar voice started to play, close enough that I could tell it was the same actor, but...it was a single, unaltered spiel, without the faint skips or stringing together of phrases and bits of sentences. "The 250 GTO-XI prototype was developed by TASK scientists led by S-Agent code name Mainspring and then liberated from storage by Miss Cryo in the year 1998. A semi-autonomous all terrain combat vehicle, the 250-GTO-XI has the following features: Forward mounted.50 caliber machine guns with two thousand round magazines, a five hundred horsepower engine with enhanced friction tires, underwater capacity with deployable propeller with a maximum speed of ninety knots, rear mounted oil slick deployment systems, deployable caltrops, deployable inflatable decoys, twin ejection seats, and an immense one hundred twenty eight megabytes storage space, dedicated to land navigation data, sea navigation data, multimedia storage, and the XI synthetic intelligence, which is capable of following up to twenty six distinct orders and preform on the fly maneuvering without direction."

The tape clicked.

"Technical -- specifications -- complete."

"Holy shit," I whispered.

Michelle snorted. "Did you say a hunred megabytes?" she asked, shaking her head. "What does this thing use, fucking vacuum tubes?"

"Absolute -- not," the XI said, and I swore...despite being a pre-recorded message being cut to pieces and replayed by a non-sentient synthetic intelligence, I swore it sounded fucking huffy. "I -- have -- the -- newest -- in -- high - speed -- transistors."

"Oh wow!" Michelle said, making a jerking off motion as I flung the car into drive, then slammed down on the accelerator. We shot from the armory and into the corridor -- I bit the corner with just enough clerance to just barely avoid scraping along the wall. The walls were right next to us, whipping past at incredible speed, and Michelle gripped her armrests, sitting straight up, her eyes wide as I grinned, then flicked my thumbs on the steering wheel, popping a pair of triggers out.

"Kimmy! Kimmy, babe!" Michelle said, her voice growing taut as we shot towards the front doors -- which we had sealed up before beginning our searching as a precaution in case we were ambushed again.

The front of the car whirred and the screen flashed green, showing a pair of gleaming wireframe indicators and ammo counts. The wire frame resolved into the view of the corridor, with a cross-hair right on the doorway.

"KIMMY!"

I thumbed down on the triggers.

The two machine guns that had thrust their blunt noses out of the forward lights, roared with a blazing screech. Flames and smoke preceded us before the door, which turned into so much rubble and scrap as we exploded out of the base and onto the beach.

"All right," I said, lifting my wrist. "Give us our coordinates, Kate and we'll see about figuring this shit out."

"Transmitting coordinates," Kate said, then laughed. "Oh this is fun. This is taking me back."

I grinned, then tapped the toggle in the middle of the controls, flipping it down from the tiny logo of a car driving on a road to a lake with a car at the bottom of it. The windows whirred as a second set of panes of glass swept up and covered them and the machine guns slid back into their slots. Michelle laughed as we hit the beach, then the water, and then the water washed over the car, roaring around us. It was like going into a car wash, and before I knew it, we were soaring through the water at a steady pace, the engine still growling softly -- behind us, a frothing streamer of bubbles sliced through the water.