You Only C.U.M Once (Pt. 07)

We were going to need a lot, considering how many people were running IG here.

One of the referees gestured me to a table and across from me, I saw I was facing off against a stern faced African gentleman -- I recognized him from the dossier as the owner of a major cobalt mining concern in the Congo. He looked deeply un-amused. "I find this entire thing beneath me," he said, his voice stentorian and rumbling. "but if this is what it takes to impress Mr. Etan, I suppose we must dance for him."

"Come now, Mr..." I said, setting my army case down on my chair.

"Kweku," he said, dryly, as onlookers started to gather around as other tables were being set up for their matches.

"Mr. Kweku," I said, as if I hadn't researched him in his totality. "It's quite an enjoyable game, if you have the funds to spend upon it."

"Hurmp," he said. "I have hired a proxy for my match."

A nervous white guy with huge, thick glasses stepped up and waved shyly. He was dresse din a suit that was clearly a rental, and he looked as if he was about to faint just looking at me. I gave him my best little smile and I swear to god, his face turned as red as Amanda's hair.

"I-I'm running, uh, Space Marines," he said.

"A classic," I said.

"Y-Yes, well," the proxy said, glancing at Mr. Kweku, who was standing aside and frowning at the two of us as if every second of this was wasting his time. "My employer asked for the b-best results. Space Marines remain the most competitive."

I chuckled. "We'll see about that."

The first match went as I had expected -- my army was focused upon mobility and ranged combat. I baited his assault marines into charging, fell back, and shot them to pieces with enfilade fire. The only difficulty was that the proxy had brought a land raider and I had insufficient heavy guns to take it down easily. Fortunately, the fucking thing was as slow as it looked, and I was able to capture several important control points on the battlefield, then run out the clock while the Land Raider was trying to take down the survivors of my second platoon. It was closer than I would have preferred, but it still ended with my victory. I shook hands with the proxy, but he looked grimly aware that he was about to get fucking fired.

After the first round of the tournament wrapped, I took a moment to take a sip from a glass, wink at a few pretty ladies, and spot Rose and Kate in the crowd. Rose, the dear, was already sitting beside one of the spouses, who was giggling and blushing as Rose murmured to her.

"Our dear is growing up," I whispered into my collar.

"Oh, man, Rose is fucking demolishing pussy tonight," Michelle said. "She fucked a mom and daughter combo in the bathroom while you were playing keep away with the Land Raider."

"Noice," I whispered. "Remind me to give her a fucking high five. Holy shit."

"...and were they either of them approached by Anarchsex?" Mike asked, sounding unsure.

"Huh?" I paused. "Oh, right. Were they?"

"They were clean, and they're inoculated." Michelle said, chuckling.

Right.

The mention of the word inoculation caused my own balls to ache faintly. During the week of preparation, we had dug up every scrap of information we had on Project Mata Hari, and we'd analyzed the survivors of both bomb blasts. Well, I say we, it was mostly the nerd squad. And they had produced an inoculation. The fact said inoculation had involved sticking a needle of any size (let alone the massive size that it actually was) into my balls still made me wince and squirm.

The basic way it works is thus: Your cum will now bond with the formula in Anarchsex's and transform it from a bioexplosive with a primer to a bioexplosive with an inhibitor. Normally, the detonation is exponential in its propagation, building on and feeding on the bodies of other human beings, but with the inhibitor, the waveform will collapse even if it is exposed to another living human being, was how Tabby had explained it. Then, seeing my look, she had added: It will go boom, but it'll only hurt people in a five foot radius, not in an entire freaking building!

"Lucky bitch," I said, softly.

"Hey, Mommy Daughter duos aren't that hard to wrangle," Michelle said as I noticed that my next table was going up against a gorgeous blond nerd girl who was named Rebekah Sharpe. She was the heir to a huge pharmaceutical business, but she also looked as if she actually knew how nice and fun it was to just cut loose and play some 40k.

"It's not that," I murmured as I started towards my table as the refs announced that the new round would be starting soon. "It's the fact Rose got to inoculate them with a strap on. No needles for Rose."

"Yeah..." Michelle groaned.

I came to the table and smiled at the woman across the way from me. She gave me a shy smile back. "Rebekah," she said, holding her hand out to me. I took it and then leaned down, kissing her knuckles.

"Woods," I said. "Kimberly Woods." My eyes didn't waver as I looked up into hers. Rebekah flushed, then giggled nervously.

"I-I'm, uh, running, uh..." She gestured down to her models, set up in the ready area, not deployed.

"Tau," I said, quietly. "An old favorite."

"I think they're nice," she said, holding up an expertly painted Commander Farsight model that looked as if it had been modified to make the normally male figurine into a feminine one. "I kitbashed a trans Farsight for this!"

"I see you have excellent taste in many things," I said, winking at her as I began to open my Elysian's box.

Rebekah's cheeks burned and she gave me a shy smile as I set my models out, carefully. The coin flip went to Rebekah and she began to move her troops, measuring out the movement of her squads of Fire Warriors and her sleek Hammerheads. As the deadly array of long ranged firepower began to sweep across the map and take up advantageous positions, I watched Rebekah's face with a wry little smile. I held my own tape measure in my hand, rolling it between my palms, as she finished setting down her last figurine.

"So, might I ask, what you hope to get out of the afterparty?" I asked.

"Oh, a chance to rub elbows with the famous Marcus Eton?" Rebekah asked, laughing quietly. "Well, that and my father is hoping to get some business deals done there. I'm going to filling in for him -- he's not exactly a gamer." Her tongue darted along her lips. "Your move."

I smiled, then picked up several of my figurines, then started to prowl around the table. My hip bumped against hers and my breath swept along her neck. I could almost feel the goosebumps flickering up along her skin as she stood perfectly stood, her eyes widening as mine met hers. "I believe I'm going to deep strike my droptroops here," I crooned and Rebekah shivered. Her nipples were hard against her top as I set the models down on a choice piece of terrain.

"Risky move," she whispered.

"I play dangerously, Miss Rebekah," I crooned.

My hand glided along her spine, grazed along her ass, then reached past her to pick up some of her dice. I purred. "Mind if I roll these?" I asked, already tossing them as she bit her lower lip, watching as the sixes and fives started to show. I grinned at her. "Sorry for stealing some of your luck. Firing Phase?"

Rebekah's back shifted and pressed against my palm again. I quietly, subtly cupped her ass as she blushed and murmured. "Y-Yeah, I think we are going to get some firing on."

***

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

Rebekah's legs scissored around behind my back, her ankles hooking against the small of my back as my girldick slammed into her again and again and again. Her hotel room was just a smidge bigger than the one that we had rented for me and the rest of the TASK team, and the window that I was pressing her up against made up the entire northern portion of the wall. Fucking her against it made me feel a raw, visceral, voyeuristic thrill, and the way that Rebekah's hands squeaked along the panes of glass as she tried to find purchase just inspired me to dick her harder.

Giving up on supporting herself from behind, she cupped the back of my head, clinging to me as I kissed along her neck, biting down on her throat and wringing a 'hnnn' from her throat.

"Kimmy..." Michelle's voice spoke over the radio in my ear. "We have lost eyes on Kate, and I can't raise her on the line."

I grunted, then thrust again, letting myself cum right then and there. Now, normally, I tried to pull a few extra orgasms out of any lover I was fucking, but I settled on just the three I'd managed with that last burst of hot, thick, translucent girlcum. I slid out of Rebekah as she panted and whimpered, then laid her down on the bed. Her thighs flopped open and my cum oozed from her well fucked, puffy pussy lips, her eyes completely dazed. The cum, I noticed, was fluorescing faintly, as the inoculation within it started to work into her body.

I tucked my cock away, then murmured a soft. "Now that's what I call multiple, simultaneous and devastating deep strikes..." to myself.

I stepped to the door, then paused, my hand on the knob. Something twigged at the back of my mind -- I wasn't sure if it was the warning that Michelle had given me, or some subtle clue that my senses picked up...but I hesitated in opening the door a fraction. I took the knob, twisted it, opened the door -- paused...then thrust hard, just in time that the goon who leaped to bag me took the door in the face and stomach and balls, all at once. He stumbled backwards and I stepped out and kicked him hard in the belly before he could recover.

The other goon, though, was free to thrust at me. He was holding a syringe in his hand, and I jerked aside, catching the needle on my jacket and shirt before it could penetrate skin. This twisted it from the goon's hand and I grabbed his wrist, then threw him over my shoulder. He fell and I kept my hand on his wrist, twisting it around with a wet pop. His face went ashen and I knelt down, drawing and planting the barrel of my pistol against his throat.

"Eton or Anarchsex?" I hissed.

"Eton!" he groaned. "C-Christ, he didn't...ah...Jesus Christ!"

"Eton you dick," I hissed.

"Well, to be fair, we did blackmail him, beat him up, and kill a load of his other goons," Michelle said. "But to be even more fair: Eton, you fucking dick!"

I stood and holstered my pistol, leaving the goons were they lay. I started forward down the corridor, my heart hammering. Eton was making his move against TASK? But he had to know that that was suicide -- we had enough dirt on him to fuck him over and throw him in rich white guy maximum security prison for the rest of his life. Shit, we had enough dirt on him to throw him into the actually shitty prisons, if we wanted. I frowned as I returned to the main room, looking about myself for Rose and Eton.

I saw Rose, sitting by the bar, keeping a focused watch on the place. She put her finger to her ear, murmuring in my ear with her ear piece. "I don't have eyes on Kate or Eton -- I'm sorry, I was keeping an eye for anyone who might fit Anarchsex's profile."

"It's fine," I said, quietly, then speed-walked to the announcer.

"Hey, have you seen Mr. Eton?" I asked.

"I believe I saw him stepping out to his private quarters during the tournament intermission," the announcer said, quietly. "He should be back before the final round."

I nodded, then turned away, starting out of the room at an unhurried pace -- though, honestly, I was hitting the very edge of what could be considered a normal walk. When I emerged, I found that there were several more goons in suits, waiting for me. They had no weapons, but they were standing in my way, looking serious. I frowned. "Where the hell did Eton even find you guys?" I asked, then shook my head. "You know what, forget I asked, this is Monte Carlo, they can buy you guys off the corner shelves. Listen, I'm very annoyed with Eton right now, and I am more than happy to take it out on all of you. Alternatively, you can get the fuck out of my way, and keep all your limbs intact."

"Nice," Michelle whispered in my ear.

One of the goons -- a whippy Northern African gentleman with a body that looked like it was made for gymnastics and beating the shit out of people -- stepped forward and adjusted his collar. "Mr. Eton wishes to keep his privacy," he says. "If you would please, head back to the tournament."

"Alternatively, fuck you," you say.

"Mr. Eton has informed us, you would not want police or hotel security's attention," the goon said, his voice wry. "I assure you, we can hold our own until either or both have arrived."

I rolled my shoulders, slowly. "No. You can't."

I stepped forward.

They stepped forward. I snapped my fist out, catching the leader in the throat. He made a choking noise and the man to his right opened his mouth to speak, but I grabbed onto his long, thick blond hair and smashed him, face first, into the solar plexus of the third man. The third man's back hit the wall and the air rushed from his lungs in an almost silent whuff as his chest muffled the second man's shout of alarm to an almost silent mmph! The fourth man snarled and swept a haymaker that could have shattered my jaw at me -- but I ducked low, came up, punched him in the stomach so hard that he folded in half, then shoved him into the knot of his friends. All four of them collapsed to the ground, groaning softly and I stepped over them hurriedly, then went around the corner and started for Eton's room.

"Left, right...right," Michelle said, her voice soft as she guided me. I came to a double set of doors.

No one was guarding it.

I paused, then drew my pistol from behind me -- and then pushed the doors inward.

There was no one in the room. Just an open, waving curtain and the cooling breeze of the Monte Carlo evening. I stepped forward, then lowered my pistol as I looked out the window. I swore I could see the faint, dimming lights of engine contrails and hear the soft whine of a stealth engine zipping away from me. I dropped my magazine, slapped in the tracking bullets, then put my pistol up and sighted on those receding lights.

"...if you do this, I am sucking your cock," Michelle said in my ear.

I sighted at the distant target.

Lifted the barrel.

Considered the wind ruffling my hair.

Pulled the trigger.

The the tracking dart whuffed out and my glock bucked in my hands. I lowered my pistol and watched intently, even if I wasn't going to see shit. I watched, and waited.

Then..

"Goddamn, you're lucky your cock tastes so fucking good, you fucking maniac," Michelle said, laughing. "The dart hit something. And it's beginning to break away from Monte Carlo. We have her! We fucking have her!"

"And she has Kate..." I said, quietly, holstering my pistol. "And-"

The words died on my throat.

Because I saw, then, laying on the ground, concealed by one of the sofa's in the room, was Marcus Eton.

He laid on his back, with his throat sliced down to the spine by the unmistakable wire of a garrote.

TO BE CONTINUED