CHAPTER NINE
Garvin Espering awoke with a raging erection and a vague, clutching
sense of dread. He always awoke with an erection -- that was nothing new. It
was the sense of dread that concerned him.
He lay in bed on his back, eyes open and staring up into the darkness.
He ran through the events of the day, trying to determine if there was some
pressing business that he'd failed to attend to. Nothing came to mind. He had
an amazing memory, an ability to retain and compartmentalize every bit of
information he came across in his long business day. It was a skill that time
and again had saved him trouble. He went backwards in his head three days,
looking for whatever it was that was disturbing his sleep. Again, nothing. He
thought of calling his assistant, Mika, and asking her if he'd overlooked
something, but decided against it. She was on call twenty hours a day, but he
hated waking anybody up in the middle of the night. He already spent more time
with her than he did his wife.
With a grunt he threw off the covers and got out of bed. He always
slept nude, and the night air was cool on his flesh. Espering fished a silk
robe off the back of a chair -- real silk, mind you, not that faux trash -- and
wrapped it around his body. His hard penis made a tent of the material.
The console beside the bed flashed no warnings about a breach in
security, no Urgent-rated waiting messages. Espering wasn't worried about
getting murdered in his sleep -- it would take a platoon of combat-hardened
League Marines to break through his estate's defenses, and chances were that
would rouse him from even the deepest slumber. Not that he was afraid of dying,
mind you. He'd made his peace with God, and knew there was an honored spot in
heaven for him, but he wasn't ready to go just yet. There were too many things
left for him to do. He was still needed on Monsipur.
Espering slipped on some padded loafers and headed out into the big
recreation room adjoining his bedroom. It was a dark cave at night, with only
enough light seeping from hidden alcoves to keep him from tripping headlong over
furniture. The six-sided room was huge, with two of the walls giant
flatscreens. Chairs, short couches, and a handful of P-pods dotted the floor.
He paused in the dim space, looking around. He detected nothing amiss or out of
place, no strange sounds or scents in the air.
Moving carefully to avoid tripping, Espering made his way across the
room to his wife's bedroom door. It was shut, revealing nothing. He put his
ear to its surface and heard nothing. However, both their bedrooms were
soundproofed, so he would've been surprised to hear anything. It was a
custom-made door -- she could be in there screaming and he wouldn't hear a
thing.
His wife had retired earlier with a gaggle of squeakers. At least, he
hoped they were squeakers. It was hard to keep up with her ever-changing
tastes. That was why they had the separate bedrooms; Espering still loved his
wife, and even had sex with her occasionally, but he'd never get any sleep if he
shared his bed with her. Half the time she was up all night on some escapade --
entertaining herself had become her full-time profession, with no set hours.
Espering had his entire property monitored, for security reasons, by
vids, as well as sensors of every type known to man and a dizzying array of
overlapping alarm systems so complex it took a computer to sort them all out.
That included the bedrooms of his wife and daughter, although they didn't know
it. He could go back into his bedroom and access the cameras covering his
wife's quarters from the console beside his bed, see for himself what she was,
or wasn't, doing, but he dismissed that thought. Noises echoing through the
walls from her bedroom hadn't been what roused him and filled him with such a
sense of unease.
Tying the robe's belt loosely around his waist Espering made his way
across the room and pushed open the door. He strode down a short hallway and
paused at an archway and the two big doors beneath it. His daughter's living
area was more than a suite but not quite its own wing of the house. He had no
idea if she was inside; she'd gone out earlier in the day, he didn't know where.
She was a bit like her mother, always looking for a new adventure. It could be
days before she returned. He moved on after only a few seconds, stepping out
into the main corridor that ran the length of the residence.
Head cocked in thought, he strode down the wide corridor, the gentle
swish of his robe echoing off the walls. In the alcoves to either side
Espering's white statues stoically watched him rustle by, tented erection still
leading the way.
In the security command center vidscreens had flicked over to show
Espering as soon as he'd stepped into the main corridor. The entire house was
filled with heat, sound, and motion sensors, which were tied into the camera
system. The finger size cameras were programmed to follow any movement, and the
two sergeants manning the post, alerted to his presence, watched Espering stalk
down the hallway, lost in thought. When it became obvious he was heading for
the command center they straightened in their chairs and looked around to make
sure everything was as it should be. He treated his security people so well and
paid them so much money they nearly broke their backs trying to do a good job
for him. Which was exactly why he did it.
"Evening, gentlemen," Espering murmured as he swept into the room.
"Sir," they greeted him. "Having trouble sleeping tonight?" one of the
sergeants asked.
He made a face. "Maybe it was something I ate." Espering ran his eyes
over the thirty-six flatscreens displaying various locations around his
property. The views were changing constantly -- there were over two hundred
cameras in the main house alone, so the system shuffled between them when there
were no pickups in the sensors. When a sensor went off, however, the command
center's computer automatically selected the cameras that were in the area of
the tripped sensor and brought them up on the vid displays.
Espering stared at empty offices and meeting rooms, closets and
bathrooms and long corridors stretching into the distance. A dozen different
views of the exterior of his residence. The killing zone outside the front
gate, the underground garage for those employees that didn't take the rail in,
the storage room filled with the estate's synthetics, the Loomy corral. Shots
of the vacant Powerball court and the occupied cells above it. He saw hardly
any movement; other than a couple cleaning bots circling through the second
floor offices, and the two night-shift cooks arguing about sports in the
kitchen, the only activity was in the cells by the Powerball court. Pringler
was strapped to her bunk and violently twitching -- enjoying one of the radical
feelies he'd proscribed for her, no doubt. He wasn't sure what was on her
module this night -- there were so many on her long, busy schedule, and his team
kept coming up with new behavior altering programs they wanted to try on her.
She'd already done three Dane pack initiations, the Health Department's
thirty-two-part how-to sex education series, not to mention every amateur
instructional chip that had merit, plus the classified military grey-screen
psyche altering chips. Maybe it was that experimental prisoner training chip
they'd gotten from the Department of Corrections last week. The Chief Warden
had said it featured the famous punishment and reward approach he'd developed
over many years for use on female inmates with discipline problems. The
technology that gave the world artificial chips (although they still weren't
widely available to the general public) was amazing -- what his female prisoner
would experience as several months of regimented, physically demanding, and
ultimately fulfilling sexual servitude would only take seventeen hours to play
through her head, and was a completely man-made creation. Once every single
type of nerve impulse had been recorded, catalogued, analyzed, and diagrammed --
colors, sounds, sensations, everything - it was only a matter of time before the
computer geniuses were creating their own special feelies out of whole cloth.
As Espering understood it, the possibilities were limitless. The only
artificially-created chip he'd tried so far had been quite impressive. A short
chip, with the user assuming the identity of a jacked-up woman in a crowd of men
that had a vagina where her mouth should be in addition to the one between her
legs. They'd told him it was one of the first arty chips ever created, simple
and very crude, but the sensations he'd experienced had seemed totally
authentic. As a side note, the Chief Warden, an old friend of Espering's, had
told him in confidence that as a final test of the program he'd helped develop
he'd tricked his wife into plugging it into her machine, and the feelie disabled
the cutoff switch of any machine it was in. The Warden couldn't recommend the
program highly enough, stating that while she acted the same around family and
friends, his wife obeyed him instantly and acted like a jacked-up pulatrita
whenever they were alone, and seemed unaware things had ever been different.
If the woman's cell number wasn't in the corner of the screen he
couldn't have guessed who she was, so radically had her appearance changed. He
made a mental note to ask for a progress report from his Special Projects Team,
although he was very pleased with what he saw.
The only other person awake in the pods was the female in the cell just
off the lift. The reason for her presence escaped him at the moment. He did
remember she'd been given a big dose of TrigGrr, but anyone could've figured
that out just by watching her. If she hadn't been locked spreadeagled onto her
bunk she would've already hurt herself.
"Anything happening?"
"Well, a wild Dane pair caught a shrike just beyond the outer ring. You
should've heard it squeal. Then they spent half an hour mating before moving
out of camera range. It's amazing how well the new SID 4 cameras work."
"Looked like daylight," the other sergeant agreed.
SID stood for See In the Dark, and the SID 4 cameras were the latest
generation of night-vision technology. All the estate's cameras had just been
upgraded with it, and now the pictures were so good they needed an on-screen
cursor just to tell whether or not the camera was filming in darkness or
daylight -- the pictures were identical.
One sergeant gestured at the vidscreen showing the two cooks arguing.
"They've been at it for an hour," he said in exasperation. "I can't believe
they're such wizards with food; I've met Loomies that were smarter."
"Everybody's good at something," Espering observed. "We've all got a
purpose in life."
"I guess."
"How many on duty tonight?"
"Twenty-two total, sir, including us. Two at the front gate, and two
more roving inside the residence. Two more assigned to the outbuildings. Four
on the inner ring, and four on the outer ring of sensors, two to a vehicle.
Plus six more on the roaming sensor detail, on foot."
"The what?"
"We're still trying to duplicate that sensor glitch we had beginning of
last month. They've been checked and rechecked, but all of them tested fine.
Captain Van derMeer thought he might be able to reproduce the problem, so every
night we've been sending out men to wander the likely areas that the woman
entered the property. She couldn't remember exactly which route she took in.
All the men have locators on, so we know where they are. So far none of the
sensors they've come in range of has failed to pick them up."
"Tell the Captain to call me when he gets in in the morning," Espering
told them. "I've got a hunch about this. The girl wandered in during the day
-- we should be running these sensor tests during the day. Maybe heat or UV
rays are somehow reducing their effective range."
"Will do."
"I'm heading into the bubble," he told them. "Have someone run me up a
Loomy, will you? Wake up one of the wranglers; I know you're not supposed to
leave the command center. The Captain would have my head if he knew I sent one
of you out on an errand." That got them smiling.
"Yes Sir, we'll have someone bring it right up."
The Bubble was what Espering liked to call his command center inside the
command center. It took a voiceprint and retinal scan just to open the door on
the small room. Inside was a smaller version of the command center. A more
modest bank of vidscreens above a computer terminal that gave him complete
access to the entire security system, including parts of it the two sergeants
outside didn't know existed.
Upon his entry the lights flicked on and the terminal hummed to life.
He had to submit to another retinal scan before the terminal would obey any
commands, a double safety in case the door was somehow opened by someone other
than him or Van der Meer.
Every camera on his property had a number assigned to it. Where several
cameras covered the same area one number brought up all of them. The terminal
would accept voice commands but he preferred to use the keyboard tonight. He
punched up his wife's bedroom and four vidscreens flicked to life, showing her
bedroom from three angles, her dressing room, and her private bathroom. There
she was, asleep in her bed. With the lights on? No, there was the SID cursor,
glowing faint in the lower right corner of all the screens. Amidst a tangle of
sheets he spotted the forms of three squeakers in bed with her. At least one of
them was female, but it was so damn hard to tell. And either one of them had
only one leg or his wife had been -- and still was -- enjoying her PCA. How she
could sleep like that Espering had no idea. She was on her back, half covered
by a sheet, legs spread wide. It looked like she'd fallen asleep while playing
with herself.
In her bedroom his daughter was asleep too, her nude, tanned body
facedown on the big raised bed. There was a form on the floor at the foot of
the bed, and it took Espering a while to make out exactly what he was looking
at. A woman, that much was clear to see, probably just some treat his daughter
had picked up in FunTown. Her body was a fleshy arch on the expensive rug.
Sylphie had bound her elbows to ankles, and somehow the woman had fallen asleep
like that, shoulders and knees on the rug, taking the weight, knees splayed
wide. Her big breasts and wide mound were covered with fresh red marks that
would probably turn into nasty bruises.
The intercom beside the door beeped. "Yes?"
"We've got your Loomy, sir."
Espering got up and hit the button. The thick door slid open with a
hiss and he peered out. A sleepy-looking wrangler was removing the Loomy's bag.
He carefully disengaged the catheter tube from the valvesleeve, slid out the
rectal drainage tube, and ran a Redi-Wipe between her cheeks. He gave a sleepy
wave and headed for the door.
After years of successful testing in laboratories, in computer
simulations as well as on human test subjects, Lumiprod 13 was put on the market
by Strathcon, one of GUP's subsidiaries. Designed to increase a child's innate
intelligence when administered in utero to the expectant mother, the drug seemed
to work miracles, and was a sure moneymaker.
It was the biggest failure of Espering's charmed life. Instead of
making unborn children smarter, the drug instead produced children that were
severly deformed, both physically and mentally. Uniformly born without limbs,
these children also were so mentally handicapped they were near vegetables,
incapable of speech or real comprehension. Espering's experts still weren't
sure what went wrong, but he did. The head doctor performing the majority of
the tests had been falsifying his results, pocketing his research funds instead
of putting them to use. Espering, when he found out the truth, had had the man
quietly kidnapped and taken deep into the desert. Espering had been there when
Van der Meer cut the man's limbs off and roughly cauterized the wounds. They'd
left him in the blazing sun to die, surrounded by his severed arms and legs.
However, that didn't help the thousands of children, "Loomies", affected
by the drug. With no limbs and almost no mental ability, they were a big drain
on Monsipur's human resources. Each Loomy required specific care and attention,
although one person could look after quite a few of the unfortunates. But with
nearly two thousand Loomies just in the greater Garshak area, that was a lot of
wasted man-hours.
Espering had simplified the problem by insisting the Loomies be equipped
with AG harnesses, to facilitate moving them around. As head of the Council of
Twelve he also had the power to direct the publicly-employed medicos to equip
each one with a black Plastex body bag, complete with its own rectal drainage
tube, urethral catheter, and airtight waste compartment. Each Loomy was fitted
with a urethral valvesleeve that blocked all flow of urine except when the
catheter was in place. The bag was just that, fitted with a simple seam that
ran from the collar in front down to the bottom of the Loomy's legless torso.
Espering had discovered only one task Loomies could perform that helped
balance out their drain on society, but as yet there had been little public
acceptance of his idea, and quite a lot of protests. Ignorant traditionalists,
as usual, blocking another of his farsighted ideas.
He grabbed the Loomy by a strap and pulled her behind him into The
Bubble, taking an extra second to secure the door. He pushed her in front of
him into the center of the room. She was a little pudgy, her white skin doughy
and amazingly soft. Her face was round and, as was typical, completely devoid
of expression. She looked young, but then they all did. He knew how old she
had to be, Lumiprod 13 had only been out on the market for eighteen months. He
knew the dates by heart. It had taken that long to track down the source of the
deformities. Still, this one looked young. Maybe it was because she had a
little extra fat on her body. Her black hair was in a short bowl cut,
convenient to take care of. That was what it was all about with the Loomies,
convenience. It was why none of them under Espering's care had teeth -- they
lived on NutriBlend anyway, and teeth were just one more body part that needed
maintenance. They were depilated as a matter of course.
Espering took off his robe and tossed it into the corner. The Loomy's
eyes never moved. She stared straight ahead, her eyes unfocused and watery.
Her drooly mouth hung open slightly, revealing pink gums. She wore a small AG
backpack with narrow, padded straps. The straps over her shoulders had a
tendency to slip so they were kept in place by two other straps, one running
above her breasts and one below. Her breasts were big and hung pendulously down
between the straps, which pressed them together attractively. The AG drive was
set to zero her -- she wouldn't rise or fall unless physically manuevered.
Her legless torso hung a meter off the floor, her bulging white pudenda
with its center notch its lowest point. Espering never got used to how strange
that looked, a torso with no legs attached. The male Loomies looked just as
odd, with their penises dangling down into space. He grabbed her soft breasts
in his hands and squeezed. They were like warm dough, freshly risen, and she
bobbed slightly in the air as he kneaded them. Then, using her breasts as
handles, he pushed her down until she was resting on the floor in front of the
console.
It was quickly discovered that the Loomies retained the infantile
sucking reflex. They sucked on anything that was placed in their mouth. And if
they couldn't swallow it, they kept sucking. They also demonstrated a poor gag
reflex, or none at all. That was why Espering's solution made so much sense to
him and many others.
Espering sat back down in his chair and scooted it forward. With a hand
on the back of her head he guided her mouth to his throbbing cockhead. As soon
as he was past her lips she began sucking, and sucking hard. Her fat tongue
twiched spastically against his flesh.
"Good girl," he said, patting her head. He knew she couldn't understand
him, but he believed in the power of positive reinforcement.
He moved his hands back to the keyboard and punched in the most secret
of his camera codes. One by one all nine screens lit up, showing him
still-lifes of the canyons that covered the far west edge of his property like
varicose veins. There were dozens of them, all interconnected, and they covered
a surprising amount of ground. Twenty to as much as a hundred meters deep, with
sheer rock walls, the picturesque canyons were impossible to climb out of
without the proper equipment.
The branching canyon complex was dotted with SID 3 equipped cameras,
programmed to focus on movement. It didn't take him any time at all to locate
the woman. She was just outside the big cave at the south end of the canyons.
It wasn't a cave, really, more like a sheltered area under a big overhang of
rock. He was surprised at the amount of activity in the canyon, then remembered
the Danes were nocturnal.
For some reason as he stared at her Espering just couldn't remember her
name. Some sort of temporary mental block. He certainly, however, remembered
why he'd dumped her into the canyons -- treason wasn't something he was likely
to forget.
He'd dumped her into the canyons with just the clothes on her back what,
nine months ago? Something like that. It had been a simple task for his
specialists to insert a false memory into her head. It was a fanciful story
wherein she'd escaped during her sentencing, stolen a speeder, crashed somewhere
in the middle of the Pak desert, and then fallen into the canyons while
traveling at night on foot.
She'd opened her eyes the next morning with a terrible headache, in a
canyon on a patch of sand beneath a fifty foot tall sheer rock wall. It
occurred to her she was lucky to be alive. Never one prone to self pity, she
quickly set out to explore the canyons and in short order discovered a natural
spring. Using it as her base she slept during the scorching mid-day heat and
spent the rest of her time trying to find a way out of the canyons. It was on
the third night that the first members of the pack found her.
Danes. Sixteen in all, fifteen males and one female. She didn't have
any experience with wild Danes and knew nothing of pack behavior, but she didn't
think they were supposed to be dangerous. However, when the pack circled her
and began growling and snapping and showing big white fangs she realized in an
instant her knowledge of the species was woefully inadequate.
She could barely see them in the dark canyon, lit only by faint
starlight, while they had perfect night vision. She backed herself up against a
rock wall and began yelling and kicking, but that only seemed to encourage them.
She managed to keep them at bay for seven hours, almost until dawn, by screaming
until she was hoarse and swinging her fists and feet. The animals just seemed
to be playing with her, lunging and snapping their teeth but never really
drawing blood. She was terrified nonetheless, certain that she was going to be
eaten. Espering watched it all as it happened from inside the Bubble.
Finally her legs just gave way and she toppled to the sand. The Danes
were on her in an instant, but instead of killing her they began tearing at her
clothes with their teeth. Soon the women was bleeding from a dozen minor bites.
The animals were in a frenzy around her and she was terrified, not understanding
what was happening. She was tossed this way and that, hopelessly outnumbered
and too tired to put up much of a fight.
The Danes rolled her over and over on the ground, tearing at her, until
her clothes fell away from her body. Bleeding from dozens of tiny bites the
woman found herself on her hands and knees on the canyon floor. It was then
that the Danes' intentions became clear, and it brought forth a new will to
struggle in her. The woman fought her way to her feet and staggered off in a
faltering run, but in the dark she couldn't see and tripped over a small rise.
She hit the ground with a grunt, then was up like a shot and moving only to be
brought down again by two Danes, running into the backs of her knees. She
landed hard on hands and knees, and was immediately mounted by the pack leader.
The first thrust of his massive pink and black organ missed as she tried
to crawl away. The circling of snarling, snapping teeth couldn't scare her any
more than she already was, but the leader weighed more than she did, and was
much stronger. When he wrapped his forelegs around her waist and yanked her
backwards she might as well have been made of feathers.
His penis was twenty-five centimeters long and rather thick. On his
second thrust he managed to wedge it against the opening of her sex, but her
folds were as dry as the sand she knelt on. That didn't stop the Dane, who used
brute force and a series of violent thrusts to force himself deep into her.
Even well-lubed he would have been a tight fit, and her screams of pain and
outrage echoed off the canyon walls.
As pack leader it was his place to go first. Since she was a strange
female in the pack's territory he had to make his authority known. He barked at
her and snapped at her bare back even as he thrust, hunched over her. She tried
to lay on her stomach, to pull away, but he would just yank her hips right back
up. His forelegs were wrapped around her abdomen and with his wide paws he
could control her entirely. His back legs were planted in the sand to either
side of her knees, giving him the needed leverage.
The leader rode the strange female as hard and as long as he could, to
demonstrate his strength and power. Danes could last a long time if they wanted
to -- as small as their brains were, Danes were very sophisticated sexually.
The mewling wet sounds she was making only encouraged him, and after a while she
stopped struggling altogether. Finally he could hold off no longer and
climaxed. The woman felt his organ throbbing in her raw channel, felt his
copious seed pooling in her. Then he jumped off, leaving her sex gaping and
bloody. A stream of semen ran from her and darkened the sand between her knees.
The woman remained on her hands and knees, for the moment still too stunned to
make another escape attempt. Crucial seconds ticked by, and the pack recognized
her behavior as that of a strange female wanting to join them. The
second-ranked Dane mounted her with one swift, practiced motion, and thus began
the pack initiation.
The sun was over the rim of the canyon by the time they had all taken
their turn with her. Bloody and covered in semen, the woman lay facedown in the
sand, semi-conscious. Her insides were on fire after more than three solid
hours of intercourse. One of the last Danes to mount her, a young one, had
inadvertently taken her anally. By then she was curled into a fetal ball, knees
to her chest, face in the sand. Her entire backside was so slick with semen and
sweat that the young Dane's narrow tool had popped right past her sphincter on
his first poorly aimed thrust. She was so dazed and battered it took several
minutes for her to notice he'd opened a new door.
Gradually she became aware of the animals pushing at her with their
noses. She was so disoriented that she didn't notice they weren't acting
aggressive toward her anymore. They pushed and nosed at her until she staggered
upright, then, directing her with growls and nudges, herded her up one of the
winding canyons. Blood and rivulets of semen ran down the inside of her thighs
but she was past noticing such things. She felt detached from her own body,
unconcernedly looking down at it as it staggered along.
After what seemed like hours she realized they'd reached a dead end.
Beneath an overhang of rock there was a large flattened circle of dirt, shaded
from the sun and cool. The whole area reeked of Dane. The woman stumbled
inside, ducking to avoid the stone lip, and was asleep before her body hit the
ground.
For close to two days she barely moved. She just lay in the shade in a
strange state of semi-consciousness, unaware of the heat during the day or the
cold at night. The males brought her fresh kills and laid them next to her
head, but she took no notice. The Danes kept their distance, not knowing what
was wrong with the new female but instinctively shying away in case she was
diseased.
Finally, near nightfall of the second day, the woman awoke from her
fugue. Always a fighter, she'd decided to live: she was too strong-willed and
stubborn to just let herself die in the desert. Before her lay a small striped
four-legged furred animal, gutted and freshly dead, the latest food offering.
After nearly three days without food or water she was ravenous, yet still could
hardly bear to look at the tiny animal they obviously expected her to eat. Its
cute little body was floppy and torn, the fur streaked with blood. As a
lifetime vegetarian, she was horrified. However, as a realist, she realized she
had only two choices, and one of them was death. It took her forever to skin
that first creature, using only her bare hands and teeth, and the raw meat was
so tough and foul she vomited most of it up almost immediately.
With practice, however, she became very proficient at skinning the
little shrikes, using small rock shards. She even got used to their taste,
pungent as it was. She learned not to eat the entrails, and found she liked the
taste of the liver best of all.
She also used the rock shards to cut her hair as it grew annoyingly
long. It hurt a lot; she really had to saw at it That and the lack of any
hair-care products convinced her to cut it as short as she could manage.
Luckily she'd had her body depilated when she was seventeen. She couldn't
imagine how hideous she'd look with hairy legs and armpits.
The harsh sun eventually turned her dark hair a sandy blond, and her
pale skin gradually took on a deep coppery glow. With her strict diet of red
meat and water the fat melted from her slender frame. Between walking on the
loose sand and chasing the Danes around her thighs became corded with muscle.
There was enough standing water at the spring for her to wash her body properly
every few days, although soap was just a vague memory. She used sand to scrub
away any caked-on dirt.
The Danes hunted at night and slept most of the day, in the shade if
there was any to be had. She quickly learned their routine, and Espering would
often watch her in the afternoon sleeping underneath the overhang. She also
spent a great deal of time crying during those first few weeks. He couldn't
imagine how she must feel, thinking herself stranded nearly a thousand
kilometers from any human settlement, trapped in the canyons with the Danes.
The male Dane has a very strong sexual drive, one of the strongest ever
recorded in nature, on any planet. The females are always, at the least,
willing, and the males are always eager. It was a fact the woman discovered
soon after her recovery. A young male brought her a fresh kill, and as she
began to eat he attempted to mount her. The first few times it happened she
resisted as best she could, but they were aggressive and unrelenting, and
quickly wore her down. There were too many of them, all stronger than her, and
they were too insistent.
If given the opportunity an adult Dane, depending on his age and
physical condition, will copulate three to ten times a day, at least in
captivity, each mating lasting an average nine minutes. That's if there's no
female in heat nearby. And any female will do, as the species is not
monogamous. With just her and the one female Dane for fifteen males, the woman
found that she spent half her waking hours on her elbows and knees. Partly that
was due to Espering; he'd handpicked the members of this pack from over two
hundred wild males animal control officers had captured inside the city limits.
His criterion for selection had been age (young), overall physical condition
(excellent), and organ size (large).
One afternoon, after about two weeks living with the pack, while being
mounted by the number four male, the woman was surprised and horrified to
discover that she was enjoying the sex. Not just enjoying it; she was wet,
really wet as the Dane pounded her, and realized she'd been that way before he'd
even entered her. Espering would've been surprised if it hadn't happened --
biologists had discovered over fifty years previous that long term close contact
with Danes produced a measurable increase in sexual appetite among humans of
both sexes. Pheromones, they assumed, although they'd never been able to prove
it definitively, pheromones that could cross the species barrier. The woman,
however, wasn't a biologist, and hadn't read the findings, which were still
classified. It took a week for her to come to grips with her desire. At first
she tried to rationalize her actions and psychoanalyze herself, look at her true
fears and motivations and desires and the part stress played in it all. But
after spending hour upon hour on her knees underneath the animals, and loving
every minute of it more and more each day, the reasons why seemed less and less
important as time went on. Soon she couldn't remember a time when her clitoris
wasn't erect and throbbing, her vagina wasn't swollen and leaking, or when it
took more than just a few minutes of thrusting for her to climax.
The female Dane had birthed three litters since the woman's arrival. Of
the thirteen pups nine were still alive, seven males and two females. The three
oldest pups now weighed over fifteen kilos and were beginning to show an
interest in the opposite sex. Their clumsy attempt to mount her legs just made
the woman laugh. Espering hadn't been prepared for the pack to grow -- the
canyons were only so big. It was a huge oversight on his part. Luckily,
though, they still seemed to be able to find enough game in the canyons to
survive. He never would have imagined there could be so much wildlife in
something that looked like a barren wasteland.
Every ninety or so days the Dane female would go into heat. The woman
knew when it was coming, because she felt a corresponding rise in her own
arousal. For three days the Danes wouldn't eat, wouldn't sleep, and wouldn't
drink. All they could do, or think of doing, or try to do, was mount a female.
It was during the first such cycle that the woman, on her knees being furiously
speared, and surrounded by another half dozen fully aroused thrusting males,
introduced oral sex to the pack. She hadn't planned it, at the time she was
half-crazy with desire, but when she found herself nose-to-nose, so to speak,
with a raging erection . . . . None of the Danes complained, although she could
tell they preferred mounting her rear because it put them in control.
In time the woman managed to explore every centimeter of the mazelike
canyons, and came to the correct conclusion that she was stuck; without rope and
climbing equipment, or even shoes -- hers had long since fallen apart -- there
was no way for her to scale even the lowest rock face. She tried, but the walls
were all vertical or nearly so, and completely devoid of handholds. She refused
to give up hope, but once she'd admitted to herself that things were out of her
hands, she became much more relaxed with the pack. During the day she'd lie in
the shade surrounded by their dusty bodies, her nostrils filled with their
strong musk. She slept half an hour or an hour at a time, however much she
could fit in-between mountings. Thick calluses built up on her knees and elbows
from the hours of mating each and every day. At night she would wander the
canyons far behind the lightning-quick males as they hunted for food. In time
she noticed that each animal had its own distinct personality, and that the pack
had its own social structure. Soon she could tell just by how she was nudged by
a nose whether the male wanted to mount her or just wanted her to move over.
She chased the pups around, yelling and laughing at their squeals, and came to
understand most of the pack's signal barks and growls. When two newborn pups
died in a freak rockslide she'd keened and cried over the bodies alongside their
mother.
Espering sat back in the chair and watched her up on the screen. As he
figured it, she'd been down in the canyons closer to a year than nine months. A
standard year, at that. He wondered if she'd even recognize herself if given
the opportunity; her altered appearance was just a small part of the change
she'd undergone.
The woman was just outside of the overhang where the pack slept, resting
her weight on her knees and one hand. In her other hand she held the carcass of
a shrike and gnawed on it. Espering turned up the speaker. Except for her
repetitive moans, muffled by a mouthful of meat, she seemed rather oblivious to
the young Dane that was energetically thrusting into her.
Espering marveled at how lean the woman's body had become. She was all
ribs and whipcord muscle, looking, he realized suddenly, a lot like a Dane
herself.
The young Dane finished while she was still gnawing on the shrike. He
stiffened against her, then dismounted and sniffed between her legs once or
twice before wandering off. Another young Dane trotted into view. He was the
largest of the pack, although he wasn't the leader, not yet. He sniffed at the
woman, who still hadn't moved from her knees, and began licking between her
legs. Espering watched the beast's organ unfurl beneath his belly. It was
truly monstrous, thirty centimeters long and as big around as Espering's
forearm. He knew Dane organs were big, bigger than the average man's, and he'd
handpicked the most well-endowed Danes he could find as a special treat for her,
but still he was impressed by this youngster. After a few more minutes of
licking, the animal moved close to the woman, then raised himself up and
clumsily wrapped his forelegs around her waist. She looked over her shoulder as
her elbow nearly buckled under his weight.
"You're going to kill me with that thing, Thumper," she told the Dane,
setting the shrike down so she could use both hands to brace herself. "Oh
krikes!" she gasped, as the Dane wedged the end of his shaft into her. It was a
tight fit, but she was in no danger of tearing. After nearly a year of oversize
organs her sex was permanently stretched, and usually gaped open if she lay a
certain way. As the big Dane built up speed her moans increased in tempo and
volume, until her gasps and yowls were echoing off the rock. She arched her
back and thrust her ass back to meet his massive tool.
"You've truly become a pack bitch," Espering told the screen. And a
real moneymaker, he added silently. For her headache that first day hadn't been
caused by any fall into the canyon; Espering had had his people implant a
send-capable FeelReal master chip into her head. An extensive underground
antenna system surrounded the entire maze of canyons and recorded her every
sensation, every hour of the day or night, since she'd entered the canyons.
The fifty-seven-hour rutting marathon that had been the woman's first
exposure to the Dane bitch's mating season was still the highest selling
extended-length FeelReal program in history. Not bad for something that was
technically illegal (Danesex) and had to be distributed surreptitiously and sold
on the burgeoning feelie black market. That was just the first program he'd
released, through a cut-out cut-rate chiphouse; they'd followed it up with
others. A new extended-length feelie hit the marketplace every ninety days or
so as the woman fornicated her way through another Dane mating cycle, although
none of them had sold as many copies as that first program. A feelie chip could
only hold about five hours of real-time; the extended length ones were actually
a series of chips linked together in a standard size casing and programmed to
run as one.
Espering had been intrigued to learn that over the past year the woman's
chips had acquired a cult following among middle-class professional women.
There were dozens of rumors about who the woman in the chips might be. One had
her a disgruntled civil servant who one day had just wandered into the desert
and joined a feral Dane pack. There was no way for anyone to know, either --
the canyons had no mirror for her to look into, all that could be seen in the
feelie was the front of her body whenever she looked down.
Besides the four extra-long-length nonstop mating frenzy chips there
were eight or nine shorter chips that only ran about fifteen hours each. They'd
been handpicked by the people Espering had monitoring her head unit's
transmissions. Each detailed a day in the woman's life, exposing her every
activity from one dawn to the next, with only her short naps during the day
edited out. They revealed the simpleness of her life as she slept, ate, and
played with the pack. The days selected had been chosen mostly because of the
vast amount of time spent those days by the woman on her knees being taken by
the males of the pack, although there were other highlights as well. Her
wrestling with pups, or running full-speed down the narrow canyons after the
pack males as they chased a big shrike.
As head of the Council of Twelve Espering was privy to the data produced
by the military/intelligence satellites in orbit around Monsipur. Just outside
of Prelak, a big mining colony four hundred kilometers or so west of Garshak,
the satellites had picked up signs of a huge Dane pack. This gigantic body had
actually turned out to be more than a dozen smaller packs that roamed the Yasmin
Plateau, an arid grassland that stretched for over a hundred klicks to the
south. These packs totaled more than five hundred Danes, so it was only natural
this area was often the destination of biologists wishing to study the animals.
This year the biologists reported a record eighteen human females living among
the packs as full-fledged members. Their acceptance as members of the pack
meant that each of the women had undergone the same initiation rite the woman in
Espering's canyons had endured -- forcible rape by every single male in the
group -- and still decided to remain with the animals. He supposed it was
different for them than his female prisoner -- they'd known what they were in
for, and in fact had gone out looking for it. Which, he supposed, meant that it
hadn't been rape, it'd been an inter-species gang-bang.
The Garshak City Council had recently been forced to publicly admit the
existence of such a movement. The number of otherwise respectable women who had
left their jobs and headed out into the desert, hoping to join a Dane pack, just
couldn't be covered up anymore. Apparently there was just something so magnetic
about life among the pack, as experienced by these women through the chips
Espering had been distributing, that certain individuals couldn't ignore the
call. Some of them died in the desert, and others turned back -- but not all.
Espering knew about women joining Dane packs; it had been happening since
Monsipur had been settled, that's how he'd gotten the idea in the first place to
toss his prisoner in with a pack. The DaneLovers were just a warped
manifestation of the same weird biological need women had that the Danes somehow
satisfied.
The three hour and forty-seven minute real-time feelie of the woman's
chain-rape pack initiation had been very useful to Espering. Since he'd
obtained it there had been four high ranking female secretaries in his many
companies who'd been caught embezzling or just outright stealing from him.
Espering despised thieves, but wasn't heartless. He'd met personally with each
woman and given them an option -- termination with criminal charges and certain
jail time, or they could sit through the less than four hour program as
punishment and keep their job. He even described what happened in the feelie to
them, but he knew his description could never capture the intensity of the
actual events. All of the women opted to sit through the program.
After experiencing the Dane pack rape initiation, one of the women had
marched out the door and gone straight to the police. The police had, of
course, dismissed her wild story out of hand; to think the head of the Council
of Twelve would even be capable of such a thing was absurd. Besides, even if
her story was true, no one was sure if there were any laws broken; she had
voluntarily sat through the feelie.
The woman suffered a massive psychological breakdown and after several
attempts, finally succeeded in killing herself. The other three women had
returned quietly to their jobs and became model employees. Espering's
investigators learned that one of the secretaries had, two months later, bought
her own pet Dane. They installed and monitored vidcams in her apartment
briefly, just long enough to verify that yes, she was having sex with the Dane.
Quite often, in fact. Espering marked her file for early promotion, and put
her name on the short list for the GUP Executive Training School.
On screen his woman was, for the moment, alone again. The big Dane had
finished up and then wandered off. Espering watched her stretch and shiver as
the glow from the rough sex wore away. She'd become multi-orgasmic, and the
secluded surroundings let her feel free to vocalize. The Danes had grown used
to her screaming and shaking, her grunting and gasping, although it had taken
them a while. She shakily got to her feet and walked away from the overhang.
The cameras were programmed to recognize her shape and follow her, so Espering
had but to watch. Fifty meters or so away from the sprawl of Danes the woman
dropped into a squat and urinated into the sand with a sigh. As she sat on her
heels her stretched vagina gave a wet sloppy blat and thick gobs of semen
belonging to half a dozen males dropped into the sand. She scratched her knee,
and when her bladder finished emptying she swept away the few semen strings
still clinging to her folds and stood up. She kicked dirt over the wet spot.
Not a care in the world, Espering marveled. Not exactly what he'd
planned for her when he'd dropped the woman into the canyons, but apparently God
had other plans for her. He thought about her situation, and that of the woman
he still held in the cell above the Powerball court, and how their lives were so
much better since they'd met him. It was amazing just how much he'd done for
both of them.
"I don't think anybody really realizes just how big a humanitarian I
really am," he said to the room. He looked down at the Loomy between his legs.
She'd slowly sucked his whole length down her throat and was now gumming the
base of his shaft, swallowing repetitively. Her tongue swirled randomly.
Espering couldn't figure out how she managed to get enough air to keep from
passing out, what with his substantial length down her trachea. Her eyes were
open, unfocused, while her jaw and tongue worked robotically.
"I think we've added enough protein to your diet tonight," he told her,
smiling kindly. He'd forgotten what he was capable of, given enough time, since
he'd undergone what was euphemistically referred to as product enhancement.
With enough stimulation the semen just trickled out of him in a constant stream.
He shut down the console and vidscreens, realizing that he'd put off for
another day making a decision about the canyon woman's future. It had already
been a year. Should he leave her in the wilds indefinitely, until she could
remember nothing but pack life? Or should he let her in on the facts of her
situation, tell her she was just a prisoner of his whims? His plan had been to
punish her for her crimes, but had he? He just couldn't decide, and hoped for
some sort of sign.
He disengaged the Loomy and stood up, hooking her harness with a
fingertip and pulling her up to head height. He grabbed his robe and shrugged
it on. The ache in his loins had diminished, and his erection slowly folded to
half-mast, but the desire never faded completely.
"Well pretty girl, let's see if we can't find your minder," he told the
moon-faced female. Her juicy mouth hung open and she blinked slowly at him.
"Get you tethered down for the night." He lightly slapped the side of one of
her big breasts and watched them sway side to side.
"What a pair." He pinched one of her puffy nipples and used it to tow
her behind him to the door. The nagging unease that had originally roused him
from his bed was now just a faint memory. Probably just something he ate.
