Goliath 7

A Note from the Author: This story takes a little inspiration from the Twilight Zone pilot episode "Where is Everybody?" I pay a little respect to its creator at the end.

There's a little bit of fun porn logic at the beginning, but with good reason.

All players are consenting adults well over the age of 18.

I hope you have as much fun reading as I did writing!

Goliath

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Part 1: Single Blind

Brad Bennett heard the birds chirping through his open window and kept his eyes closed for a few more minutes. A lazy Saturday had to start somewhere. He could smell the impending spring in the air, made electric by the sterility of the fading winter. A lawnmower droned in the distance, but it was not unpleasant. Finally, he opened his eyes. Time to get the show on the road.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and made sure to simultaneously touch both feet to the ground. It was important to be symmetrically grounded first thing in the morning. Standing up, he made a mental note of his raging morning wood and dismissed it on the way to the toilet. Brad regarded himself in the mirror, half-bent and being careful to keep the stream centered. He was happy with his appearance; his time in the gym had molded his six-foot frame with athletic contour. Not bad for 34. Mussed dirty blonde hair covered his sleepy brown eyes. His triangular bicep tattoo jiggled as he gave his penis precisely three shakes. Brad made a note of the dripping faucet and headed to the kitchen.

On the way, Brad stopped at the front door and paused. Something was supposed to happen today. He mumbled, "Crap. What was I supposed to...?" He opened the door and saw the package on the porch. "Right, right, right."

As he closed the door, he noticed a single orange flower had bloomed near the porch, and Brad smiled to himself. Spring was springing.

The origin of the package read "Goliath Industries, Ltd." and was utterly nondescript. Brad used a knife from the wooden block on the kitchen counter to slice the tape. Just as he began to lift the packing material, his phone rang.

Brad grimaced. "Damnit it's fucking Saturday morning you fucking assholes."

The call originated from his lab. Sighing, he answered, "Yeah. What's up?"

Brad listened to his lab assistant recount the status of the experiment and was glad his days of lab checkups over the weekend were behind him. He idly handled the box while he listened, nodding absently.

"Ok. Gotcha. This kind of thing happens, Jerry. It's pretty typical. We need to either make the mixing more aggressive, gently increase the temperature, or both. Just make a note of whatever you do, and don't get too carried away with the heat. That sample is thermally labile."

The voice on the phone continued and Brad was glad to have a trustworthy hand in the lab. Jerry was a smart kid, but knew when to ask for guidance from a senior researcher. This weekend's experiment was running single blind, so Jerry didn't know the identity of the materials or the overall purpose. He was right to request instruction. The motto in Brad's lab was, "The Test of All Knowledge is Experiment," and Jerry was on board. Brad usually just needed to point him in the right direction and then stay out of the way.

The package. Brad hung up and opened the box. He had read about the device online and his curiosity had gotten the best of him. With Laura gone, the Goliath seemed like a fun distraction until he was ready to hit the dating scene again. Brad didn't have the stomach for one night stands anymore and his heart was still mending.

He lifted the device from the package and turned it over in his hands. Slick, black plastic and some type of silicone covered what looked to be a visor with dangling tentacles. Each tentacle was covered with the same black silicone, but Brad could feel the heft in each of the appendages. He guessed there was some kind of flexible metal cable inside, and wondered if each tentacle could extend. A single card with a QR code dropped out of the visor. Brad looked at the clock on the stove and, noting that he had nothing but a sudoku and crossword puzzle on the books for a few hours, decided to proceed. The dripping bathroom faucet could wait a bit.

The QR code opened a website that contained a little pictogram which indicated that Brad should remove his clothes, wear the visor, and remain standing. To Brad, it looked as though the little androgenous cartoon person was standing in some kind of box. Fully clothed, he shrugged, donned the visor, and felt along the right side for a tiny bump in the silicone that activated the device. Inside the visor, Brad saw a boot screen and then nothing.

"What the fuck?"

A single phrase appeared in the visor, white text against the black background.

[Initiating Session 1]

He felt the tentacles vibrating as the device ran some diagnostic or startup routine. The visor emitted a pale orange light, but was otherwise idle.

"C'mon. What the fuck? Are you stuck in a boot loop or what?"

A full minute passed and Brad took off the visor and set it on the kitchen table. Did it need charged or some kind of authentication? The thing wasn't cheap and Brad mourned the days of clear instructions.

Brad looked around the kitchen. Something was off. The lighting in the room was strange and he wondered if there was smog in the city air this morning. "Weird for a Saturday," he absently said aloud. He couldn't imagine what else would cause the faint orange tint. He moved to the window and caught sight of a woman walking from the sidewalk to his front porch.

"Fuck. Saturday fucking morning!"

Though he had no intention of answering the door, he continued to watch as she approached the house. The brunette was short and very cute, and he estimated she was mid-way through her twenties. She wore a short but respectable skirt, sandals, and a blouse that revealed just a bit too much. Brad felt his neglected cock stir in his shorts.

He moved toward the door and checked his hair in the hallway mirror. Chuckling, he said, "Fuck it. Let's at least make it interesting."

The doorbell rang and he waited a prime number count of seven before opening the door with an innocent smile.

She beamed at him. "Hi! Umm, this is a little embarrassing, but my car just stopped working out front. I think it's either the battery or alternator. Could you please give me a jump so I can sort it out? I have cables." She pointed at a beat-up Honda Civic in the street and fully blushed. Brad found her automobile troubleshooting strategy respectable and her blush positively adorable.

"Sure thing," he said with this warmest smile, "Let me back my car out. It'll just take a minute."

She smiled back and looked him up and down. Brad suddenly felt a little like a prime piece of meat, and it didn't bother him in the slightest. It had been a while since Laura looked at him like this. The woman ran a finger through her bobbed hair and demurely balanced her left foot on her toes.

"Thanks! I'm Gretta."

Brad wondered what Gretta had under that little skirt. "Gretta. Cool. I'm Brad." He paused and reciprocated her top-to-bottom assessment. There was mutual heat. He usually preferred leggy blondes, but Gretta was beautiful, and standing right in front of him. It had been so long.

"Hey Gretta, do you want to step inside while I put on some shoes?"

She stared directly into Brad's eyes and said, "I've always been told not to enter a stranger's house because they might do something terrible to me. You're not going to do anything terrible to me, are you Brad?"

The suggestive note in her voice was enough to awaken his erection. She smiled at him but never broke eye contact. "You're a nice guy, right? No reason to think you're going to have your way with me."

Brad stuttered, "Haha right, it's pretty safe in here unless you drink the coffee. It'll strip the paint from your Honda."

Gretta walked in past him and scanned the inside of the condo. She nodded in approval. "Nice place. Well kept. Cute owner."

Now Brad felt his face flush. He replied, "Thanks. I don't get a lot of beautiful visitors, but here we are." He congratulated himself on his smooth operation.

Gretta didn't say a word. She just stared at him and Brad wondered if he had crossed some invisible flirt threshold into the wasteland of cringe. His confidence began to plummet and he cursed his asinine attempt to endear himself.

Then she walked toward him and shocked him with a kiss directly on the mouth. Her left hand stroked his stubbly cheek and her right hand rested against his chest. She was standing on her tiptoes. Brad nearly recoiled from surprise but composed himself.

He thought to himself, "Jesus this is fucking fast. Jesus this is really fucking FAST."

But he went with it because Gretta was very attractive and Brad was, in fact, very horny. The drama with Laura was weeks in the past. His resistance faded.

Gretta's right hand moved over the growing bulge in his shorts and she began a rhythmic caress. Her tongue touched his and he marveled at how warm it felt to kiss a woman after the dearth of companionship.

She broke the kiss, but her eyes stayed fixed on his. "I know you're thinking this is a bit forward. It is. I need this and I know you need this. Let's just have a little good clean fun."

Brad nodded and leaned back into her, running his tongue on her smooth lips. She moaned softly and began to stroke him more aggressively over his shorts. His hands found her breasts and he used his thumbs to gently circle her nipples through her top. Even with fabric barrier, he could feel their hard outline.

She whispered into his ear, "Like it when I jerk you off? I can feel your cock twitching. It's making me fucking

wet

." The last word was delivered at a nearly guttural tone, and Gretta followed it with a gentle nip at his earlobe.

Some distant part of Brad's mind registered that this was the most intense handjob he'd ever received, despite the presence of his shorts. He swore he could feel his balls growing heavier and found his hips working in tandem with her strokes. He wondered if the intensity was the product of the unexpected intimacy, or the fact that a stranger was jacking his cock in the foyer of his neat little condo. The front door was still open.

Brad slid his right hand under Gretta's top and worked under her sports bra. She had handful-sized breasts as smooth as he had ever felt, but her nipples were swollen and rock hard. She paused long enough to peel off her shirt in one smooth motion. Her right hand returned to his cock while her left hand pulled the back of his head toward her chest.

"If you don't give my nipples some attention right now, I'm going to lose my mind."

He obliged, flattening his tongue and pressing against their stiff center, before moving the tip of his tongue in slow circles around her soft areola. Finally, he attached to her nipple and gave a tentative suck.

Gretta nearly purred. "Mmmmmm. That's it. That's it right there."

Brad noticed that his ears were unusually warm and faintly ringing. The lighting in the room was still faintly orange. These sensations were quickly overwhelmed by the intense urge to cum. This was not a regular, run of the mill, pedestrian orgasm brewing. No, this was to be a roiling fountain of liquid fire, an oceanic release originating from his animal core. His body felt electric as she methodically jerked him. Overcharged.

"Cum for me, Brad. Shoot that steaming load."

Something wasn't right but he didn't care. She had just gotten started and hadn't even touched his bare flesh. Worse yet, he hadn't reciprocated her masturbation, and Brad prided himself on being a generous lover. His skin was warm all over, too warm. He broke into a heavy sweat and Gretta licked his ear, whispering, "Let it all out for me, Brad. Give it to me and watch what I do next time."

Next time? Brad almost had time to register confusion when he convulsed and began to violently climax. His brain felt as if it were circling a drain, accelerating into a bottomless hole of pleasure. Then he was in the freefall of pulsating orgasm. He spewed pump after steaming pump of cum directly into his shorts, producing so much semen that it felt as though he'd wet himself. His breath caught in his lungs and for a split second, he thought this was to be his best and last orgasm.

Gretta smiled brightly and hissed, "Yessssssss! Fuck yes!"

And then Gretta blinked out of existence. She was there smiling one moment, and gone the next. Brad gasped and the room went black. Out of the darkness, white letters appeared and floated in the air in front of his eyes.

[Session 1 Complete. Preference database updated.]

Brad reached up and felt the visor, still in place, at his eyes and began to panic.

"Oh what the hell? What THE FUCK?"

He ripped the visor off and found himself standing in his kitchen, exactly where he stood when he first put the visor on. The room lighting was normal. The front door was closed. Brad looked at the clock and 12 minutes had passed. His shorts were literally dripping with cum. The floor beneath him was slick with droplets of pearly white fluid.

He sank into the kitchen chair and chanted, "What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck was that?"

Brad looked down at the visor in his hands and back at the little pictogram on his phone. It had instructed him to take off his clothes and he'd ignored it. Now he realized the little androgenous cartoon person wasn't standing in a box, but a shower. Realization struck.

"Holy shit."

Brad marveled at the visor, turning it over and over in his hands. On the front of the visor was merely printed the word "Goliath" in neat white letters. On the bottom, Brad could just barely make out another bit of text.

Brad read aloud, "Made in Asia." He chuckled and said, "Very specific. Might as well say 'Made of Matter'."

His phone rang again and Brad saw that it was Jerry calling from the lab. He answered and Jerry told him that the increased stirring and heat were ineffective.

Brad sighed. "Ok. Right. Let's try putting the samples in the..."

He frowned. The word escaped him. He continued, "In the. Uhh. The thing that vibrates at high frequency. You know?"

There was silence for a beat and then Jerry spoke. "You mean the sonicator bath?"

Brad's face flushed and he was glad that Jerry couldn't see him. "Yeah. That's what I mean. Put the samples in there for a bit but don't let them get too hot."

Jerry acknowledged and hung up. Brad sat thinking about the Goliath device. Gretta had seemed real enough that he had been totally fooled. His body had certainly responded. He looked at the inside of the device and couldn't see a single feature.

Brad the Scientist was trained to be skeptical and curious. The thing had a murky origin and unknown mode of operation. How did it work? Was it dangerous? What was the preference database and how had it been updated?

Brad the Lonely, Horny Man dismissed all those questions and wondered if the sex could get even better. Regardless of its origin, Goliath had given him the most powerful orgasm of his life, and done it in 12 minutes. Brad grabbed the device, locked the door, and headed for the shower.

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Part 2: Longitudinal Study

Brad had repurposed the sex swing that his friends had given him as a gag when he had started dating Laura. It sat in the middle of his bedroom, all of the other furniture pushed to the perimeter of the room. Underneath, Brad had spread a plastic tarp and on it sat a shallow gray bin. He could lay naked in the swing and use Goliath to his heart's content. The bin collected his bodily fluids, of which there was a shocking amount. He cleaned the bin fastidiously. At first.

His stubble was more properly a short beard now. Brad chugged water from the kitchen faucet and vaguely recalled something about a faucet that needed to be fixed. He shrugged and glanced outside. The planters out front were filled with orange flowers now and Brad realized he hadn't been outside in almost a week. He headed back to the swing and donned the Goliath visor.

[Initiating Session 29]

Brad had just enough time to think that 29 was one of those special numbers before the woman walked into the room. The room itself was stark white, the only furniture a low table. A faint orange light permeated the space. The woman was tall, blonde, blue eyed, and dressed to fuck. Brad thought her sleek, black bodysuit might be made of pure rubber or latex. It stretched from the woman's ankles to high on her slender neck. She wore black stiletto heels. Her thick hair was tied into a meticulous, tight ponytail.

She smiled at him through ruby red painted lips. "Hey baby, I'm Gloria. What's a nice guy like you doing in a weird little room like this?"

Brad gave Gloria the come-hither finger motion. "Come over here and find out."

Gloria approached him and a Brad fought the strong instinct to simply pounce on her. He reached up and felt her generous tits, packed tightly into the latex garment.

She grinned at him and said, "Bad boy. Not so much as a kiss before you feel me up?"

He smiled back at her and licked the tight, black material over her nipples. She responded and said, "That's nice baby, but we both know that's not why I'm here, not what you really want."

Gloria was correct. Though Brad had experienced 27 distinct scenarios using the device since Gretta, all had been devoted to various acts of foreplay, ex-girlfriends, and one involved a celebrity. Each had resulted in a mind-numbing orgasm. Today he wanted to try something that Laura had resolutely denied him. Goliath, in the guise of Gloria, would accommodate.

Brad spun Gloria around and she leaned over the table. He placed his hands on her latex-encased buttocks, pulling them apart. Running down the ass crack of the bodysuit was a zipper, just as Brad had fantasized. His cock was already at full attention, quickened by anticipation. His fingers hovered over the zipper.

Gloria looked over her shoulder at Brad and said, "That's a zipper for a very bad boy. Better be sure."

She held a smoldering stare, slowly licked her upper lip, and simultaneously moved her ass in a tiny circle in his hands. He was quite sure. A long string of drool fell from Brad's mouth and landed on the zipper. He slowly pulled the shuttle down to reveal Gloria's sphincter.

Brad knelt and marveled. "It's so fucking perfect. Perfect color, perfect shape, perfect size..." His voice trailed as he regarded the prize.

Gloria turned to speak to him, her tight ponytail gliding over her shoulder. "But Brad, what about the perfect taste?"

With that, he dove in. The tip of his tongue flicked the very center of her asshole, tasting her. Brad's eyes rolled back in his head, and he began methodically rimming her. His hands held her buttocks apart, easing his access, but his left forefinger began to creep towards her hole. Brad extended his arm over Gloria's shoulder and she turned her head to accept the finger in her mouth. She thoroughly licked and sucked the finger before Brad returned it and began to gently tap it on her asshole. He then began to apply steady pressure.

"That's it. Finger fuck my asshole while you rim me, Brad."

He slowly inserted his finger into her ass, stopping at the first knuckle. Gloria was perfectly tight. Perfectly hairless. She moaned as Brad leaned in and carefully licked all around his inserted fingertip.

"Deeper."

He pushed his finger to the second knuckle and felt precum drip from his own throbbing cock. He knew that it was only a matter of time before his cock was buried in Gloria's hole for very bad boys.