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

"Okay," Michelle said, quietly. "I'll admit it, it's all right. But it's kinda cramped. And, like, weirdly practical. Is this fucking thing even built by an S-Agent?"

"The intro said it was," I said. "But, yeah...something feels...off."

"...I think I know an answer to that mystery," Michelle purred. She flipped one of the toggles -- and I saw that the logo was that of a tiny sun. My brow furrowed -- and then the chair I was sitting on swept backwards with a whirr and click as the interior of the car folded down, the back seat smoothing out, and the chairs that Michelle and I were seated in folded down and plumped up, so that they, together, merged into a single bed, sinking down to the floor to give enough head room for a tiny disco-ball to drop from the ceiling.

Some very nice smooth jazz began to fill the room as the light dimmed to a pale pink and purple. Spots of color slid along Michelle's body and she laughed.

"There we go," she said, then lifted her hand -- right above a small circle that opened in what had once been the armrest. Sliding smoothly up came a space age looking martini glass, complete with a sparking, clear liuqid within. She sipped, then sighed. "Still good, you know?"

I laughed. "And that's how you know it's S-agent craft." I purred, then leaned forward. "Now, finish that martini."

"Oh?" Michelle took hold of the tiny olive poker that was stuck into the drink (I forgot the name because, right now, the only thing I could think of was getting my lips around Michelle's dick and my cock deep in her ass) and swirled it around as she watched me crawl towards her. "Why's that?"

"Cause I think I wanna shake you. Stir you. And have you on the rocks." I crooned.

She laughed, then downed the entire Martini and laid back, her hands going to her top. But it was while she was tugging her top open and revealed her absolutely sumptuous, perky, bouncy, perfect, S-treatment induced titties that I looked past her, at the window, and saw the submarine that was tailing us through the dark blueness of the deep, deep ocean.

***

It was hard to see the submarine -- if the interior hadn't been dimmed thanks to Mainspring's excellent, gorgeous, wonderful forward thinking brain, I wouldn't have spotted it at all. As it was, all I had going for me was my S-treatments and my enhanced perception and sheerest luck. But once I had spotted it, and once we had turned off the disco ball and the whole car had plunged into a deep, inky blackness, both Michelle and I could see it.

It was a relatively small submarine -- definitely an S-tech style jobby. There was no marking on the side, which...did make sense, it was a submarine, their whole point was that they were creepy and sneaking.

Michelle, who had tugged the combat sight off her rifle and used it as a makeshift telescope in the darkness, frowned. "No torpedo tubes, but there's an airlock on the belly -- the kind of thing you use for deploying frogmen." She glared at me. "Those are people who do aquatic attacks."

"Yeah, I know what a freaking frogman is," I said, shaking my head. "Think it's the bad guys?"

"Maybe..." She frowned. "No. No. It's definitely not. It's behind us, following us. Why would the bad guys be following us to their island?"

"Their patrol might have found us?" I suggested.

"Yeah, are we even close e..." She flipped open her com watch. "Yo, Thorton, are we close enough to the bad guy island to have hit any patrols?"

"Not according to my geoscape," Kate said, then sighed. "Oh that is some most excellent ball sucking, Lisa."

"Mmphm, thank you, Mistress..." Lisa's voice was a soft, whimpery moan, and it came up into the speakers like a taunting scent of bacon when you were fucking starving for some goddamn bacon. I squirmed a bit with my cock, trying to not grind it against Michelle or the floor, because either would drive me or her absolutely crazy. "Your balls taste so good. I'm such a good little cocksleeve, aren't I?"

"Oh, darling, of course you are," Kate crooned.

"Kate. Guhh. You're killing us!" Michelle groaned.

"Oh you're underwater in a car with a disco ball, what might be the problem?" Kate asked.

Michelle and I both exchanged a glance. We realized, then, we hadn't mentioned the submarine.

"Uhh, cause we're being chased by a submarine," I said.

"Oh! Put your camera captor to the window, lets see if I can identify it -- I've managed to acquire a linkup to TASK headquarters." Kate hummed as I got to work, wriggling around to put my com-watch up against the window. "You know, TASK and MI69 are having quite the row -- our superiors are happy that we kept Project Mata Hari out of their hands...this Anarchsex really does show the reason why we mustn't allow such a program to be birthed into the world once more..." She clicked her tongue. "And it seems that row has been inconclusive, my darlings. That's an MI69 long ranged seeker sub. Maximum occupancy varies -- but considering our distance from merry old England, I'd wager only...one."

We both exchanged a look, Michelle and I.

At the same time, we said: "De La Cruz!"

"And she's gaining on us," Michelle said.

"Awesome," I said, grinning slightly. "Kate, how long till we hit the island?"

"Twenty minutes," she said.

I narrowed my eyes, watching the submarine coming at us.

"...I think we're going to arrive at the same time," I said, quietly.

"So, twenty minutes," Michelle murmured.

I looked at her. Our eyes met. We both nodded.

"I top," we said at the same time.

***

"Best twenty out of thirty," I said as the water sloshed away from the XI and three things happened at once.

The first was that the beach batteries that peppered the upper edge of the hill that rose above said beach opened fire with a roar, causing a pair of blossoming flowers of pure fire to rear up to either side of our Ferrari.

The second was that the submarine carrying Agent De La Cruz burst out behind us on a set of six articulated spider legs, with a pair of clacking, clawed, mechanical arms that reached down towards our Ferrari.

The third was Michelle snarling: "Fuck no, I won the contest!"

"I mean, is it really a contest?" I asked as I threw the XI into a higher gear, slammed down on the accelerator, and swung us to the left, evading another pair of explosions as the beach guns fired -- I could see them, they were automatically rotating turrets that were covered under with tiny little brushes that bloomed out green fronds to cover everything up. Made them hilariously cute. The beach itself was basically one long narrow strip of white sand that ran alongside a hill that went nearly vertical near the spot we were at, and was studded with scrubby trees and small brushes. I saw that there was a possible route up to the turrets and deeper into the jungle down the beach.

I drove straight forward, but the submarine was shockingly fast on its legs. It started to careen after us, clattering and clicking, while explosions roared ahead of us with a flare of fire and smoke. I drove through it, and Michelle popped the side window, leaning out and opening fire with her M16. The rifle rattled and clacked as sparks flew from the submarine.

"Oil slick?" I asked.

"Nah," she said as I jinked hard to the left with a squeal of sand -- evading the chomping claw of the submarine as it started to bring said claw down on where we are. The tires really did have an astounding ability to grip and release sand -- I felt as if I was driving along a fucking normal ass road while the sand swept out behind me in a spray. The submarine stepped into where we had been going, skidding as it tried to come after us -- and that meant the turrets fired and the shells slammed into the submarine.

I finished our loop around the submarine, still spinning us around, and saw that the submarine had unfolded like it had been hit by a can opener. Smoke roiled from it -- and then flipping through the air came Agent De La Cruz. She landed on the hood of our car and slammed her fingers into said hood, her glove puncturing through the metal with a squeal.

"Hey!" I shouted. "Watch the paint!"

Michelle pulled her Glock, aiming it up at the roof.

"Wait," I said putting one hand on her hand -- my other hand still gripping the wheel as we roared down the beach. "De La Cruz! HOLD ON TIGHT!"

She grabbed onto with her other glove -- and god, she was still dressed in her impeccable fine pressed suit, the only thing about her looking even faintly mussed being her black hair. She ducked low against the roof as I jinked to the right, then to the left as more shells roared down. Shrapnel pinged off the windows and side of the car, like rain rattling against a corrugated roof, but then we were through it and approaching the jungle. A pair of jeeps rolled down and out of the beach, with goons in the same uniform as we had seen back in London -- though they were wearing slightly doofier helmets.

They also had machine guns on their jeeps.

"Shit," I said, reaching for the machine gun -- but before I could flip the toggle, De La Cruz had yanked her right hand free and flicked her wrist in a curving arc. The lower edge of one of her mono-whips slashed the ground and sent up a spray of dust and dirt -- but it made it clear where the rest of her whips were whistling. The men on the jeeps cried out as the roof of one ripped clean off, sliding away and crashing to the ground, while the machine guns popped off their mountings, their bottoms glittering.

I threw the gearing down -- going into first as I threw the car into a skid, spraying a bunch of men with enough dirt and sand that they threw up their hands. I slammed down my palm on the decoy button and shot up the road.

The men cried out in alarm as the sand faded and they saw what looked like, for a moment, an entire platoon of TASK marines. The fact they were wearing uniforms out of date and carrying weapons from more than sixty years ago, didn't seem to register for long enough for us to bank around the corner and hit the jackknifing jungle road that lead towards the entrance of the island base.

"So!" I shouted up to De La Cruz. "Truce?"

"Truce," she shouted back down to us. "For now."

"Hey, that's who gets to top!" Michelle said, grinning as she slapped a new magazine into her M16.

"Hmm?" I looked at her, then back to the road. We hit another corner and almost ran slap bang into a jeep coming down to reinforce the beach. I cut hard to the left, sheering past them, and De La Cruz flicked her hand behind us. In the rear view mirror, I saw the entire rear axle of the enemy jeep come off with a CLUNK and the Jeep skidded forward a few feet before grinding to a stop, the men leaping off it to gape at what a well wielded collection of weighted, peizo-electrically controlled monomolecular finger whips could do.

"The first to get De La Cruz's pants down gets to top the other," Michelle said, nodding.

"...or, alternatively..." I said. "We both top her."

"I beg your pardon?" De La Cruz said, sounding shockingly refined and posh for a lady gripping to the roof of a car from the 1960s while driving through a jungle being hounded by an as of yet unidentified collection of evil goons.

"I like the way you think, Kimmy," Michelle said.

"Darlings, be alert, I've picked up radio traffic and, while their ciphers are complex, it's impossible to miss the sounds of-" Kate's voice came over the com watch as we swung around the next jackknife and came up onto the very top of the islands high ground. There, ahead of us, were the mountainous fastness that would be the central base of the island -- it looked like a volcanic face that had had an entire metal front bolted to it, with a series of doorways and hanger bays along the bottom.

There were also three helicopter gunships.

"-rotary blades," Kate finished.

I threw the gear to max and slammed us forward as fast as I could -- while the three helicopters opened fire at the same time. They had wing mounted miniguns that blazed with light, bullet casings clattering to the ground, and I threw the car into a jinking twisting spin, but while two streams of bullets completely missed us, sweeping past in a spreading cloud of dust, the third moved forward and intersected. The window that Michelle had hastily rolled up crackled with spiderwebs, the roof thunked, and the left tire exploded with a whoosh. The car slumped -- and De La Cruz leaped.

She used the momentum of the car dropping slightly to send herself upwards, and flicked out her hand. Her glove flashed and the five mono-whips became visible as they banded themselves together into a single loop that was just thick enough to not slice through steel as it looped around the nearest of the chopper's landing gear. The chopper was currently sweeping up and to the right, planning to flank us out.

"Fire!" I said, and Michelle got my meaning as I slammed down the oil slick. The car was prone to spinning now, and I used that, flinging us into a spin as the oil slick spurted from the back. Michelle tossed the red pen out the window and it struck and detonated with an blinding white flare. The oil slick burst into flames and white smoke filled the air.

I pounded my fingers onto the controls, imputting a few last second options before Michelle grabbed me and leaped. We sailed clear smooth of the car, then crashed down onto the tarmack. We rolled, and came to a stop with a groan.

"Ow." I whispered.

"Holy shit."

I blinked -- and the smoke parted.

One of the helicopters was already down and burning. The second was desperately pulling up, but it was too late. De La Cruz, her suit not even looking mussed, had hooked both her glove whips on the undercarrage. She flung herself upwards, then did some twisting, jerking motion to get her whips to release the landing gear. This left her free to whip upwards while backflipping -- and hit the crest of her arc right at the glass window of the helicopter, twisting and looking at the gaping pilots.

Her left hand flicked out and the whips she controlled sheered through half the blades of the helicopter, while also cutting the minigun and rocket pod that rested on the wing free. The helicopter fell from the sky as she twisted and yanked the rocket pod towards her with a twitch of her wrist. She snatched it from the air, then put it to her shoulder as she started to drop. The other helicopter was spinning around -- turning to put its spinning blades towards her, clearly hoping she'd drop straight into it.

De La Cruz controlled her whips, in part, with piezo-electric energy. That was how the gloves had managed to shock me so hard when we'd tussled the last time.

She sent that energy through the rocket pod and the rockets screamed from it, their firing controls triggering with a crackling spray of spars. They shot down and impacted the third helicopter, slamming into the roof and causing it to detonate with a roar of orange white flames. The wreckage crashed down and I stood up, gaping as I saw her fall. She spread her arms and her perfect looking three piece suit flared as it deployed a pair of wing-struts that caught the air, turning her plunge into a dive. She swooped, caught the thermal from the inferno of the third chopper, swept up, then closed her arms and dropped before us with a click of her heels.

She reached up, then adjusted her collar with her white gloved hands.

"Hurmphs," she said.

"Dibs," I whispered.

"No, I had dibs," Michelle whispered back.

"Neither of you oversexed biddies have dibs!" De La Cruz snarled, her lip curling as she glared down at me. "Unlike you TASK agents, we at MI69 don't give trans people a bad name! We are prim. Proper. Decorous. Have bottom surgery! We don't let the fact we're male socialized prevent us from acting like actual females, not...not...not...men!"

Michelle and I both looked at one another again.

"Okay," I said, quietly. "I forgot. She's from TERF island."

"Don't use that slur!" De La Cruz snapped, pointing her finger at Michelle and I as we both stood.

"Listen," I said.

"No, you listen!" she growled. "You two are coming back with me to Britain to stand for your crimes!"

"So, the truce is over, then?" Michelle asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Seems like," I said.

Agent De La Cruz frowned at the two of us, then glanced over, narrowing her eyes. In the distance, we could see men moving back and forth, vehicles being readied. "By my count, we have a few minutes until our shared enemies arrive..." She said, quietly. "So, once I have defeated you, I can dispatch them, and then end this farce."

I cracked my knuckles. Michelle rolled her shoulders.

"We beat her," I whispered to Michelle. "Then we help knock the TERFism out?"

"Sounds good to me," Michelle said. "I got your back, babe."

I turned back.

And De La Cruz leaped towards me with a flying dropkick, aimed right at my face.

TO BE CONTINUED