Humanity 2.0 Year 028 Day 281

"Mr. Stanton. Eyes up here, please." The woman tapped her nails on the table between us.

I raised my eyes again, focusing on the woman's face instead of the unbuttoned top of her shirt – that peeked down into that nice little bit of cleavage she was showing. Her light brown hair was tied back in a small bun, and she wore a pair of square glasses. She was pale-skinned, and her blue eyes were quite clear. Beneath that prim grey jacket, white blouse, and pencil skirt was an obviously nicely shaped body. She couldn't have been older than thirty-five. The only thing about her that wasn't pretty was her sour, over-serious demeanor.

We sat together in the room they'd put me in; it wasn't the sort of prison cell I'd been expecting. Instead of a concrete box with a bunk bed and a toilet, this was more like a hotel suite – the walls were done up with a nice, cream-colored damask-pattern wallpaper, the floor was a thick berber carpet, and the furniture was mostly heavy stained wood – if looking a bit used. It was well-lit, and there was an odd smell in the air – like the sea. Perhaps we were near the ocean?

There was no doubt, however, despite appearances, that I was in a cell. When I'd first awoken here a few hours ago, dressed in only a simple pair of pants and a shirt, I'd tried to break out – first trying to barrel through the door and nearly dislocating my shoulder, then almost breaking my knuckles trying to remove one of the ventilation grates. Whatever windows had once been in here were paneled over with solid metal. I wasn't sure if it was previously an abode that had been repurposed into a prison cell or vice versa.

A few minutes previous, the door had suddenly opened, and three armed men with guns trained on me had stepped inside. They were clearly professionals, and kept me at a distance – and they were all bearing automatic shotguns instead of the small-bore assault rifles they'd carried in the past. They knew how to fight me.

I'd gone free for sixteen years, globe-hopping and shacking up with one of the girls or another. Melody and Hannah fit in well, and by then I'd also recruited Wren, Monique, and, less than a year ago, Sasha. The family was growing, and it pained me that we all remained separate. My new power had served me well; they never seemed to expect it, and even if they did, they always underestimated the power that raw lust had to control a person and override everything else. The girls, too, seemed to like when I used it in the bedroom, in smaller and more controlled doses.

I'd become confident, and quite adept at avoiding capture, and my practice in martial arts, meditation, and focus had all advanced quite a lot over the years. I was going on fifty years old at that point, though a normal human looking at me likely wouldn't have thought I was over thirty.

Despite all that, I'd been captured again – and I was still more than a little upset about it. They'd intentionally caused a riot at a major soccer game just to draw me out, and, before I went down in the chaos and confusion, I'd seen that they hit me with what appeared to be a horse tranquilizer fired from a modified sniper rifle. They'd waited until Wren was away and off buying us some food to strike. In hindsight, I'm glad; had they decided to attack while she was there, they likely wouldn't have bothered to try taking her alive.

I cracked a small smile at the woman in the room with me. "Sorry. You look great, by the way. I never got your name."

She glowered at me for a moment, then laid down a hand on the table, next to the blank legal pad on which she'd apparently been planning to write. "You can call me Miss Shields. I'd like to continue, if you wouldn't mind."

"Let's." I grinned. "Where were we?"

"The terms of your surrender." She sat back in her chair. "I'm still waiting. The committee is willing to be very generous. You've been very costly to pursue and capture, and all we really want from you is the truth."

"The truth." I chuckled. "About what?"

"You. What you are, where you came from. We have only a few parts of the story and we'd like you to fill in the blanks. In return, the committee is willing to forgive all your crimes and the damage you've caused, even the loss of life-"

"How generous, to end a fight you started, and to forgive my self-defense." I sighed, and leaned back with my hands behind my head. "Let's talk about something else."

"Like what?" She sounded testy now. "I'm only authorized to discuss the terms of your surrender. If you aren't going to talk about it, we have nothing to discuss." She stood up.

"Sit back down."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stanton. I'll be back tomorrow if you're willing then-"

Using the power came very naturally now; it was more an art than a science. A touch here, a little bit of focused interest. Adding something where there was only idle curiosity before. "Sit back down. I want to talk to you."

She peered back at me quizzically, then turned and finally sat back down, looking down at the table and seeming a little confused. "If you insist."

"I don't want to call you Miss Shields. It's boring. Give me your first name."

"It's – umm – Vanessa." She seemed flustered all of a sudden. Good. She was very receptive to the power; she probably had some repressed desires, just waiting to have some life breathed into them. I reached out with the energy again, this time letting it work within her body; within moments, her attraction to me was making her wet, and her nipples were getting hard under her bra. "I should go. I shouldn't be here if we're not... umm..." She seemed to lose her train of thought... probably because I was hijacking it.

"That doesn't look like a comfortable spot... come on over here." I stood up, offering a hand outward. She reluctantly took it, and followed behind me as we went into the far room and I sat down on the bed. She made as if to sit in the chair opposite me, but I grabbed her by the waist and yanked her back toward me – with a yelp, she suddenly plopped onto my lap, sitting upright, and inches away from my face. Wide blue eyes stared into mine.

"We shouldn't be doing this..." She sounded very unsure now. I reached out one more time, giving her mind a final push towards readiness. Lust was flooding her rigidly controlled mind, overriding everything and forcing her to lose control. It was always the most fun to do this to the really repressed girls; I kept my powers in check, generally, and had only gotten to have this particular kind of fun a couple times over the years. The more repressed they were, the more fun it was to crack the shell and let out the animal inside all of them - and the more ferocious and hungry they were for my cock when they emerged.

"We shouldn't be doing anything else." I slid one hand down her leg, and the other up her back. Pulling her closer, I kissed her deeply. She resisted for a few moments at first, then she began to melt. I felt the heat of her body with my free hand – the one that was sneaking up under her skirt. The dampness of her panties was immediately apparent. Finally, I broke our kiss, and let my upper body fall back onto the bed. "Ahhh... isn't that much better? This is a much more comfortable way for two people to communicate, don't you agree?"

"It... it's been a while, for me..." She bit her lip, now seeming reluctant again. I had to keep it going before she had a chance to surface her self-control again.

"How about you get more comfortable?" I nodded toward her jacket. "It's a little warm in here for that."

"Okay." She idly began to unbutton it, then neatly folded it and placed it on the bedside table. She blinked a few times before her hand left it, staring at the thing and seeming perplexed. Suddenly she looked over at me. "Wait – this is wrong, I'm sorry, I have to go." She stood up, grabbing her jacket again.

She was going to take a little more strength than the average sorority girl. I focused myself for an instant, then let a surge of the energy seep directly into her mind, drowning out any other thought. Within seconds, the only thing in her mind was pure animal instinct – to find a cock and help make it hard, and let it plunder her body. The outline of my semi-erection under my pants caught her eyes, which went wide. The jacket fell out of her hand and she shuffled over toward the bed, open-mouthed and looking utterly vulnerable.

I saw then; she was ultimately a very insecure person, who kept that veneer of discipline over herself to hide how inexperienced and weak she felt. Sometimes, letting loose someone's inner animal turned them into an aggressive fuck machine, be they male or female – and it wasn't always the people who were normally alpha personalities. Similarly, a controlling manager-type persona like Vanessa's sometimes hid a weak and submissive core. She was staring me in the eyes, filled with both lust and fear of judgment, hoping she was good enough and looking to me for guidance.

I took both of her hands and pulled her on top of me, kissing her again. Pulling her to one side, I undid her skirt, with halting assistance from her, then unbuttoned her blouse. She kept glancing at my clothes, wondering if she was supposed to do the same for me. Not yet. I wanted to see her naked in front of me. She needed to spend a little time on the precipice, afraid of my judgment of her... eager to be satisfactory for me. It would make her all the more motivated when I finally decided to fuck her.

Tossing away the blouse, I found her simple white cotton bra and unsnapped it with a motion I'd practiced thousands of times, and with another movement I knew well, tugged off her panties with a free thumb. She wasn't expecting the last, and seemed to abruptly realize that she was bare-ass naked on the prisoner's bed, the man she was supposed to be making surrender.

I came up atop her, kissing her twice more, then looking down at her body. She was toned; she probably ran a lot, judging by her legs. C-cup breasts adorned with small red nipples slumped only a little bed to each side as she lay on her back; I licked at both, suckling and nibbling at each. One of my hands played around her folds, never quite teasing her clit. She had a small patch of hair there, trimmed; I had gotten fairly used to hairless pussies – natural for our kind – and finding one with a little hair was an interesting delicacy at times.

Sliding two hands under her ass, I watched her eyes go even wider as I let my tongue descend into her folds. My own memories of 15226's life as a human female were but one part of a very long and varied history of sexual adventure in my life now; I had licked more than three dozen women to orgasm by then, I think. Four of them had never orgasmed during sex before – that was an unfortunately common occurrence in the previous species.

She gasped, and her small hands found my short hair as I ate her pussy. My tongue worked through her, my lips teasing her clit as I tried a repertoire of maneuvers, seamlessly moving from one technique to the next, trying to get a feel for what my newest lover's tastes were. It seemed apparent she had no idea herself, as all of her reactions were almost equally surprised and lustful.

It was only by my own experience and her own lack of restraint that I was able to put my finger on it – literally. My index finger, strumming her clit repeatedly, along with an exploring tongue in her pussy and the other finger poking in and out of her depths. Her thighs worked up and down wildly next to my head, her whole body losing the control her mind had already been robbed of – it might have been mistaken for some psychological break or an odd kind of convulsions had someone else been looking at her orgasm when it began.

I felt it coming before she did; there were small twitches in the muscles lining her pussy, almost undetectable. I didn't deny her – I pushed her rapidly instead, strumming her clit hard and covering her pussy with my mouth and tongue, attacking twice as hard just before she came. I was rewarded with her repeated wails of passion.

By now, I knew my plan was working – my guess that they'd soundproofed the cell to prevent the guards outside from learning anything above their clearance seemed to be holding up. They hadn't come in to interrupt our little party. It meant I could advance things to our inevitable pillow talk. That, of course, was my real goal – for me to interrogate her, not the other way around, and to do it in the unique Ben Stanton style.

I'd mined all sorts of useful intelligence from female enemy agents over the years, manipulating and then fucking them silly after flooding their minds with affection and lust. They'd stopped using women in their field operations after a few years, almost certainly because they kept coming back confused and having spilled the beans on everything in exchange for the night of their lives – so all of my intel was fairly old.

When she finally had come down from her orgasm, I slowly crawled up her body, positioning myself atop her and kissing her again. Her reaction was much less reluctant now – she met my lips eagerly, though she still seemed submissive and took my lead. I waited for a while until her body was less sensitive, then moved again. As we kissed, I let the power flow out into her again – this time, instead of the figurative fire hose I'd used just previous, I instead let it seep up from below, in a more natural way, like the rising waters of a flooding river... sweeping away everything gradually but inexorably.

At first I'd just wanted to get her into bed quickly, before she could think, but now that I had her, I could afford to take my time and do this right. Letting the lust rise up from inside took longer, but it was the most like natural desire, and the resulting orgasms usually left them shuddering – and their minds were usually so churned up afterwards that they were willing to tell me anything.

We made out for a while as I let her body make itself ready again. Juices began to flow, and I smelled her body's wetness making itself known a second time. I suckled on her breasts some more, and kissed my way up and down her pale skin. Her coos of pleasure and the playful happiness she was now showing were utterly unlike the woman who'd first walked in the door. She was positively giddy now that she'd been accepted as my lover. My guess was that she'd been jilted badly once when she was younger and had never recovered her self-image afterward – though her longing for it had only gotten stronger over time. People become surprisingly easy to figure out once they're in bed with you, if you knew what to look for.

When I knew it was time, I came up briefly, and spread her legs wide apart. She somehow seemed to not expect it, even though she was good and ready for a hard fucking and she must have known I'd not yet been satisfied. My cock had been leaking pre-come through my pants over her belly for the past ten minutes. I came up, pulling my shirt off over my head, then letting my arms go slack at my sides – and staring at her expectantly.

She finally figured it out after a few seconds – and tentatively reached up, finding the hem of my pants, then pulling. It took three attempts, but she got my pants down, and my cock sprang free. A dollop of pre-come flung off its length as it bounced once and settled heavily, pointing slightly downwards; the clear, sticky pre-come plopped down onto her chest, just below the collarbone. She glanced at it, took a dab onto her finger, and tasted it. Her eyes went wide, and she grabbed my cock – her fingers unable to wrap around it completely – and brought it to her open mouth.

She wouldn't truly be able to please me this way; I was simply too big. It didn't stop her trying; I let her greedily lick up all of the copious pre-come that had smeared all over my cockhead, then simply basked in her affection on the head of my pole for a while. Eventually, my desire to fuck got the better – and I put my hands on her shoulders, pushing her back down flat and coming onto all fours above her. I lined up my cockhead with her center, rubbing it up and down a few times, familiarizing it with the pussy it was about to invade. Tight, inexperienced, probably a little more fragile than I was used to – I would have to take my time. I pushed, letting my spear in the first two inches.

Vanessa gasped, her arms instantly clasping behind my head. I withdrew briefly, then went in the same distance again – plus less than a quarter inch. My strokes were deliberately slow and graceful, letting lots of her wetness and my pre-come gather up and slicken her walls, and giving her body time to adjust with each agonizingly slow thrust. Her moans soon went silent, and my only indication was her wildly varying expressions as I fucked her. Excitement, passion, energy, and submission all worked rapidly across her face, and I felt her small fingers and sharp nails digging into the skin of my back, my wrists, and anywhere else she gripped me. Her legs remained spread wide, not trying for a second to stop me, and out of the corner of my eyes, I could see all her toes were curled tightly.

When I sensed she was utterly lost in the experience, I pushed further – I supported my weight on one arm and let the other strum her clit again. She gasped, her closed eyes suddenly opening and meeting mine. I pressed hard, playing her like an instrument. I wanted to feel her unrestrained orgasm around my cock. It didn't take very long; not even a minute. I was staring right into her eyes as she came; she pressed her forehead to mine and gritted her teeth as she moaned over and over, bucking her hips and meeting my thrusts.

As she came down, before her body could become too sensitive, I pumped hard, focusing myself. My cock was rampant and had been denied for nearly half an hour now. My discipline in the bedroom had advanced over the years as well; I could hold off, or summon, my own orgasm – not quite on demand, but close. When making love to women like Vanessa, lovers who simply melted and submitted to my needs, I could control myself completely – but my girls seemed to delight in seeking out new and interesting ways to force my focus to shatter, making my cock erupt before I was quite ready. I felt the rising energy in the base of my cock, and did nothing to stop it.

The pleasure blasted up from inside, and my cock dutifully pumped hard and filled her body with gooey come. I had restrained myself from producing the retrovirus in Vanessa's case – I didn't want to recruit her, just fuck her. My balls churned and I felt rope after rope of my stuff filling her pussy. I pulled out, and let the last of my semen dribble up her body and between her tits – and the last few drops onto her chin. Somehow I knew she would love that, and it would make her feel closer and more special to me. Her dim expression of delight confirmed it; she looked down on herself, and on the line of shiny love-stuff coating her skin, and took the dab of it on her chin and licked it off her finger.

I collapsed at her side, pulling her close to me – letting her head rest in the crook of my arm. She cuddled up tightly, pressing her body and well-fucked sex to me – I could feel the heat of her still-wet folds against my thigh. I rested, catching my breath; it was always good to let them stoke for a little bit afterwards anyway. Interrogation was like cooking that way; after heating, let the recipe cool and set for a few minutes before serving. My power didn't let me read minds, of course, but I knew roughly how her mind was settling at that point; she felt primally satisfied, more womanly and desirable than she'd ever felt before. She likely wouldn't feel like holding much back.

"See...?" I said, after a few minutes of silent cuddling. "This is a much better way to communicate than what we tried at first."