You Only C.U.M Once (Pt. 08)

"Annnnnnd there we go!"

Michelle and I were both leaning over a tracking program, displayed on the laptop that TASK had so kindly given us for this operation. Modern laptops could do that freaky thing where they could fold themselves in half, to turn from regular laptops to tablets, and every time they did, I always saw the mental image of folding a sexy gymnast in half and got lowkey horny. Like, I'd never fucked a gymnast that could fold herself in half, but man, it seemed like something I should get knocked off my bucket list.

More like knocked up on my bucket list, I thought and smiled to myself, while Rose and Michelle both had similar smiles. Though, uh, prolly not for the same reason I did.

The tracking dart I had managed to put onto the getaway stealth plane of what had to be Anarchsex had kept up the tracking, all the way from Monte Carlo to a distant landing site in the Alps. I tapped the location with my finger. "We've got a base, any intelligence on that site?"

"It's not near any known S-villain bases," poor, put upon Mike said. The baseline operative looked like he was doing his best to keep up with the mission going radically off plan, and he was doing a fairly good job of it. Only mild frantic light in those brown eyes of his. I made a mental note to give him a commendation. "I'll see about getting a spy satellite over it, see if we can't spot anything."

I nodded, then turned to Michelle. "Get us a plane," I said. "Rose, you inoculated all the other girls, just in case?"

Michelle frowned ever so slightly at me, but took the tablet and began to unfold it again -- while Rose gave me a wicked little grin. Our little former TERF was growing up, getting all confidently sexy about her sexy trans booty. I almost wanted to tear up and give her a hug. "Every single sexy girl here has been inoculated. I, um...might have gone a smidge overboard, though." She coughed. "The, ah, help has been inoculated as well. And, ah, a few twinks."

"Nice," I said, my voice a soft purr. "Obliterating some twinks for Queen and Country."

Rose snorted and punched me in the shoulder as Michelle cursed. "Fuck. Every fast flyer and stealth unit in TASK is busy." She shook her head, tapping her fingers on the keyboard more. "Not getting any intelligence on why -- something big's going down and we're on need to know basis."

I frowned and my stomach clenched with a sudden flare of worry. Amanda was the best pilot in TASK. Was she caught up in this? Or, worse...was she back at headquarters, frustrated and grumbling and strangling a pillow, and needing a girlfriend to cheer her up while I was out here, having an adventure? I shook my head, trying to put the image out of my mind and focus on the mission: "Okay, other options?"

"MI69?" Michelle asked.

Rose blushed. "Not...exactly on best terms with my agency. They're working with TASK for this mission, but...grudgingly. I can ask, but..."

"Don't expect much," Michelle said.

"We could borrow a local plane?" Mike suggested.

"That's all baseline tech, though," Michelle said. "It'll get spotted. Shot down."

"Borrow a local plane and modify it?" Rose tossed out.

My brain was beginning to fire off an idea. "No, wait! Wait, Mike is right. How many planes fly over the Alps every day?"

Mike shrugged. "Switzerland has a lot of traffic, a lot of tunnels, a lot of air-flights. So, like, lots. Lots and lots of planes." That sparked. "Wait, yes! Yes! We just need to find a flight that's going approximately near the base, parachute out of it, then make the rest of the way on skiis!" He paused. "Shit, wait, none of us are alpine trained, are..." he trailed off, seeing our expressions.

Slowly...he sighed.

"Right. Forgot. Silly question." He sighed again. "Fucking S-agents."

"Hey, don't be too upset," I said, ruffling his hair. "You get to stay here and screw the hottest maids."

Mike didn't look particularly mollified.

Rose, trying to be helpful: "I have some, uh, suggestions. If you want some. For the maids, I mean."

Mike looked slightly more mollified.

***

Michelle swung open the container and we both looked down at the supplies we had. TASK's resources were pretty fucking extreme, but there were limits to what we could get in this amount of time -- we had pistols, ammo, bulletproof vests, a few girlification pills (always pack a few, just in case) and some skis that looked like they'd been borrowed from an outfitting shop, nothing high tech about them. Michelle clicked her tongue. "If she's got the gadget edge..."

"Then we just need to be more badass," I said, grinning and swinging the container shut. I sat myself down on it. "So, while Mike and Rose get the plane tickets, we have one thing we have to deal with."

"Oh?" Michelle asked, arching an eyebrow at me.

"A little bet, involving improbable accuracy..."

Michelle snorted. "Fucking hell, Kimmy," she muttered, but her knees were already bending. Rather than kneeling down, she crouched, her legs folding up under her with effortless, athletic grace. Her hands slid along the container, moving up to my hips as she looked up at me through her short brown bangs. "You really want to get it now, and not as a victory after we win?"

"After we win, we're going to be screwing Anarchsex," I said, with casual confidence. "And Kate."

Michelle snorted, then leaned forward. Her nose pressed against my bulge and she breathed in my musk, shuddering slightly. Her eyes closed as she kissed the fabric of my dark dress pants, her lips soft and eager. She whispered against me, her voice husky. "Damn, Kimmy, you really do have a nice girldick." She kissed her way up along my zipper, her lips leaving damp little impressions against fabric and metal until her warmth and her eager teeth found the front tip of my zipper. She took hold of it, then slooooowly began to tug it down, inch by inch by inch, each moment filling the air with a raspy rrrrzip noise. My eyes half closed as my member began to ease out of my pants, brushing against Michelle's silky cheek. I looked down at her, remembering when we'd been the world's biggest rivals.

The urge to gloat was...almost overwhelming.

Somehow, I managed to keep it under wraps as Michelle turned her head, planting kiss after eager kiss against the side of my dick. My hand slid along her hair, ruffling it gently as she kissed her way up to the tip of my cock. She kissed, sucked on the tip, swirled her tongue around my glans, then drew back, her breath soft. "We better make this quick, huh?" she crooned, then closed her lips against my cock, pressing her tongue down against the bottom of her mouth. Her hand brushed her hair back, so that I could clearly see her face as she closed her eyes, then pushed forward.

She took...

My...

Entire cock.

In one quick, slurping gulp. Her throat bulged faintly and she let out a soft grunt as her lips bumped against my hips, but before I could even recover from the feeling of her throat clenching around my entire dick, she pulled back, so that her lips were around the tip of my dick and my shaft was left gleaming and glittering in the small arms locker adjoining to the hotel room...and then she pushed down again, with a rough grunt. Her throat took me and her nose flared as she took me, and the groan she let out vibrated through my cock and my body.

"Holy shit, Michelle!" I groaned, gripping her hair. With the permission of two quick throat-fucks, I grabbed her head with both of my hands and began to rock my hips, bouncing her head against my hips as my balls swayed free from my pants, slapping her chin with a meaty plap plap plap sound. Michelle took me with eagerness and groaning, her eyes closing as drool dripped down her chin, her lips sliding against my cock with every fuck. Her throat bulged and slacked in time with my thrusting and I found my orgasm rushing towards me, faster and faster and faster.

There was no way I could resist.

I thrust deep, gripping the back of her head, gasping and shuddering. My fingers twined through her hair as I panted and whimpered, my eyes closing, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip as my balls twitched and thick, heavy cum began to paint her gullet, filling her belly. Michelle didn't even need to gulp, I was so deep in her throat. She just had to ride out the pleasure of it, her eyes rolling back into her head as I grunted and grunted and grunted again -- each one almost a word. Hnn! Hnn! Ha... and then I was done -- my cock softening, my balls throbbing with the afterglow, and my whole body tingling and buzzing with the delirious pleasure of a girl's orgasm.

I slid my dick out of her mouth, and it was just...a complete mess. Dripping with spittle and my own cum, it was too much of a treat for Michelle to resist. She took a deep breath, then leaned forward and began to gently kiss, lick, and nuzzle my cock, cleaning it moment by moment as I tried to get my own breathing under control too.

"G-Goddamn, Michelle," I said, laughing raggedly.

She didn't speak until my cock was mostly spotless. This also got her a chance to get her breathing working properly as well -- and when she was done, she looked up at me and purred. "Once we save Thorton and beat up Anarchsex, I got another bet for you. Most goon kills gets to use one of those girlification pills on the other and absolutely destroy them."

"Agreed," I said, a confident, cocky grin spreading across my features.

The door opened and Mike stuck his head in. "Hey, we got the tick-" he stopped.

We both smiled at him.

He sighed. "S-agents."

***

I had thought that getting a civilian flight that would leave from Monte Carlo and arrive at the point where we could parachute out over the Alps would be tricky. But, as it transpired, I had forgotten that Europe was basically all one place. Don't tell Europeans that, but it was true. Unlike America, where getting anywhere from anywhere would involve hours upon hours of flying, or driving around a car, or three different stops, Europe was the heavily populated scrunched up tissue paper of the globe -- and thus, we were able to get onto a small Cessna Skyhawk that was going to be flying from Monte Carlo to Munich.

The pilot was some German expat or another that didn't speak a single word of English, didn't ask a single question, and didn't offer to help us load up the dinky little single prop plane. He just watched us as Michelle and I effortlessly tossed the luggage we were carrying into the plane. It thunked ominously.

"Are you sure this thing can carry us over the Alps?" I asked.

The pilot didn't respond. Instead, he just held out his hand as Mike counted out euros into his hand.

"Are you sure this thing can carry us over the Alps?" I asked, in German this time.

The pilot nodded.

"I'm full of confidence," I said, turning to Michelle and Rose.

As the plane was fully loaded and fueled, Mike did step over to us, handing us a tablet that showed some grainy spy-sat footage of the area in the mountains that we were examining. "I did some cross referencing with all the old security maps, and I'm pretty sure the only thing anywhere near the landing site is an old bunker built up there in the forties." He tapped the tablet. "Not sure by who, but there was some T.A.S.K activity there in the sixties. So, it may even be some of Kate's old stomping grounds, right?"

"Yeah," I said. "Thanks Mike, you've done a great job."

"Good luck," he said, then paused. "And, uh, as a note? There's no terrain in that area that could easily put down a stealth plane. That means either VTOL capability or a concealed runway. Either is bad."

I nodded, slapped his shoulder, then turned to my friends. Rose was zipping up just the most adorable white parka that would keep her nice and toasty the instant we were in the Alps but, for the moment, was likely beginning to cook the dear. "Why is that bad?" she asked. "The VTOL, I get, since it means they might launch it and come after us. But the runway? Runways are nice?"

"If the bunker has a deployable, concealed runway, then it means the base is really advanced for a bunker in the forties," Michelle said, reaching down and smacking Rose on the butt and giving her a big smile. "That mean's more fun for us."

"Ah. Charming." Rose murmured.

We clambered into the Cessna. The pilot finished looking dour. He got up, stretched, pocketed his euroes, and then got into the airplane. He spoke rapid fire, extremely shitty French over the radio to the traffic control of the bustling airport. I was fairly sure that this was some kind of sketchy smuggling operation that we were taking advantage of -- but nothing tried to stop us as the tiny propeller buzzed to life and the entire plane took off into the air with a jolting lurch, then cruised up and away from Monte Carlo.

I looked out the window and watched the lights begin to dim away into the distance.

I sighed.

"Please be okay, Kate..." I whispered.

The plane roared through the skies of Europe, and the Rose, Michelle and I kept our watch out of the windows as the cities peeled away, moving into what finely sectioned pieces of wilderness remained. Foothills loomed there in the darkness and moonlight, and if the pilot was worried about flying into a mountain range at night, he had clearly been paid enough to reconsider it. We watched as the time ticked down, drawing closer and closer to when it was time to jump. As the letters on my watch flashed red, I shot the pilot a smile.

"Thanks muchly," I said, as Michelle flung open the side window. We were all wearing hearing protection, but the noise went from abysmal to apocalyptic. Still, I saw the pilot giving us a thin wave, as if he had strangers ride halfway to Munich or whatever and then bail out in the mountains every damn day. Then all I had time to focus on was my jump.

Parachuting was dangerous.

Parachuting at night was more dangerous.

Parachuting at night into the mountains was essentially the same thing as tying steaks to yourself and jumping headfirst into a tank full of murderous shark-girls. You may notice, though, that in this comparison, I specified shark girls. Anthropomorphic shark girls. Because, like many things in life, if an S-agent was dunked head first into a tank full of murder shark-girls while covered in steaks, you know what would happen?

A load of very happy, cum-stuffed shark-girls and one very un-eaten S-agent.

Thus was also true of parachuting at night into the mountains.

My vision had night adapted fairly quickly from the dark interior of the Cessna to the darker exterior of the great wild yonder. There were no clouds and no storms, but the wind was fierce and cold and the silvery moonlight that hung overhead illuminated the mountains in a confused, jagged array of snowy peaks and valleys. Shadows and light intermingled to create a terrain I did not so much try to understand as rather...intuit. My gut instincts, guided by dozens of drops and my own natural S-agent enhanced reflexes, made me adjust my posture in the air, directing me...there...

I yanked hard on the pull of my chute and was slammed backwards, my feet swinging around and ahead of me as the gull wing of my chute unfurled, caught the wind, and I felt the chill sweep around me. I adjusted my angle, swept up, then my feet crunched into snow. I disengaged the chute's connection with a quick yank of a safety cable and watched it whip away into the darkness. My breath fogged the air ahead of me as I looked up -- and saw Michelle coming down to land lightly and almost silently next to me.

Rose, though, had missed.

She was sailing down, her chute opened, and her legs were kicking out over nothingness. Michelle and I had landed on a narrow path that wound along the side of a peak, but there was nothing below Rose but spikes and jagged death. I stepped forward, a half formed plan flashing through my mind, but Rose had already reacted. Her hand snapped out and there was a thock as one of her piezoelectric monowhips slammed into the mountain right below my feet. She yanked and twisted, the chute coming off her with a crackling sound. The whip dragged her forward and she flipped, then skidded with a soft crunch of snow under her feet.

"Nice!" I said.

"Thanks," Rose said, panting, then looked around herself. "Damn it's cold."

"That's mountains for you," Michelle said, slinging her case off her back and slamming it down onto the ground. We withdrew our pistols, our spare mags, then slapped down the skiis. As we worked, Michelle pulled out one gadget that she had managed to nab: A pair of Gen-8 night vision goggles that she put to her eyes and swept around. "Annnnnd there we go. Okay, it looks like we have a pretty good skii course. There's three chasms, one fifteen meter jump, and a few death slopes, and an avalanche zone, before we reach the bunker, which is...not...seeing any guards."

"So, there's definitely guards?" I asked.

"Shut up, bitch," Michelle said, laughing. "You want to check."

"No, I trust you," I said. "There's a good chance there is something there to surprise us. But Anarchsex seems pretty much a loner. All the goons thusfar have been Eton's dipshits."

Rose nodded, then stepped onto her skis, snatched up the poker sticks (they had a name, but fuck you if I knew them) and said: "Last one to the base is a rotten egg!"

"Shouldn't you use a Britishism?" I asked as she thrust her pokers into the ground and pitched forward, skidding down the slope with a smooth, rasping sound. Rose giggled, but didn't call back -- instead, she threw herself into going faster and faster, crouching low, putting her skis close together so that they swept her down the incline. Me and Michelle followed right after and we were off!

I whipped past a tree, banked around a small boulder that looked like it had been scraped out of the ground centuries ago and left to rot here, and then angled myself to try and skid past the edge of the cliff-face, so I could cut off Rose who was taking the slightly more circuitous, but significantly safer path. Something at the corner of my eyes caught my attention -- and I hastily slammed on the brakes, turning so that my skis kicked up a cascading wave of snow, which slammed into the object that had been just about to slam into me. It now overshot and was buried in the snow for a second, before it sloughed it off and stood, doglike and feral.

In the moonlight, it glinted with a matte black finish and it moved with a fluid, inhuman grace. I caught sight of digitigrade legs, four of them, supporting a boxy, rectangular body, before my eyes took in the turreted weapon that was swiveling around to aim at me. I hastily shoved off and caught a downward slope, allowing me to sweep up and around behind a tree, which splintered with a ratta-tat-tat!

"Guys!" I hissed into my watch. "We got a fucking drone!"

Three more of the doglike drones came sprinting out of the woods ahead of me, their body turrets flashing with subsonic munitions and suppressed gunshots. The rounds whipped past me as I used my skis to put a few more trees between me and them.

"Correction, drones!" I said, as, behind me, the drones formed up and began to jog after me. I swept left and right, weaving around trees, bullets clipping the branches and the bark, splintering into the air as I looked back. The problem with skiing was that I had to keep my hands on the pokers, but I needed to get my pistol free. I swore under my breath as my radio crackled and Michelle spoke in my ear.

"Lead them to the clearing ahead!"

I threw myself into skiing faster and faster, pushing along the ground to add my own not insignificant strength to the forward motion. But we were hitting a leveled out part of the approach to the bunker, and that meant I was slowing down...and the drones were speeding up. I hit the clearing, where a bright thread of moonlight spilled down. Behind me, the drones were emerging from the woods with crackles and crashes of splintering wood. But rather than gunning me down, their turrets had retracted and secondary weapons had popped from their sides.