Tower of Babylon

The voyage west was delayed. Sometime before midnight, the command crew sent a message that they were in a holding pattern due to a firefight spilling into their flightpath. From the observation windows, they could see the flash of light on the horizon as a battle was desperately being fought. Streaks of burning wreckage could be seen falling into the darkness below. Sometimes the bursts lit up the entire cabin of the airship and had to be dimmed by the glass.

"Threat level is only slightly elevated. The wait is only a precaution and we have not been authorized to deviate from the original flight plan to go around, though we could send a request back if you wish, Mrs. Weaver," spoke the voice over the intercom.

Annabelle responded in a relaxed tone, "No, that's fine. We are in no hurry. Maybe we'll even get some sleep." She winked at Matt who was sitting on one of the recliners. They were all taking a bit of a break after several hours of fornication. There was a fully equipped bar where Okano sat, sipping a cocktail. The bartender was one of the tallest women Matt had ever seen, or fucked, with a spectacular, and unrestrained, chest that came dangerously close to knocking over the bottles as she tended the bar. She had to duck her head to keep from hitting the upper bulkhead as well so it took some skill for her to mix drinks without disaster.

Bee seemed entranced by the light show on the horizon. She wondered, "Such a pointless waste. Why do people still fight wars? There isn't much left of the world, just sadness."

"The same as ever, there is profit in it for someone, blood and treasure. And it keeps the rest on their toes," Annabelle responded with her usual aplomb.

Okano piped in, "Why do you think the old lion sends his boys out into that meat grinder? Less competition for the brood mares like her. Life is a zero sum game to them, and people are pawns to be used or thrown aside."

"Ooh, the cat claws are starting to show," Annabelle cooed, sliding up to Okano at the bar. "I like it. It makes me horny." She brushed her fingers along the Asian woman's side. She shivered uncontrollably.

"What a psychopath," Bee wanted to say, but she managed to keep it to herself. The silver haired fox seemed to read her mind and smiled.

Bee had gotten another promotion as she had been upgraded to wearing knee socks and a corset that pushed up her exposed tits, such that she almost had a complete wardrobe in addition to her previous items. Per the rules of hierarchy, the lowest servants wore nothing at all although the bartender was allowed a comically small apron over her midriff. Okano was sporting a leather outfit that clung tightly to her body with gaps for her genitals and breasts accented by a metal choker that matched the various silver buckles of the pseudo-bondage gear. Mrs. Weaver had slipped into yet another fanciful bodice made up of translucent layers that shifted slowly, changing patterns and colors like a cephalopod that concealed nothing despite it all. When she returned to sit on Matt's lap, his hand automatically grasped her hip and the material seemed to magically slip aside allowing him to touch her skin.

Grabbing a tall glass of something strong, Bee decided to explore the airship. Despite the new clothes, she knew she was third, or even fourth, string at this point but she wasn't too bummed out, or so she tried to console herself. A hatch slid open automatically to let her through into a connecting corridor that led aft from the forward lounge.

"Damn it, I'm not supposed to care!" she said to no one in particular. She handed the half empty glass off to a male servant who had appeared conveniently from some corner. They were good at that, she thought. After he left, the long corridor seemed empty but she felt that someone would pop right out with a piss pot if she had the urge in the middle of her walk. The areas the passengers weren't allowed to enter were securely locked, so she assumed she had free reign if she found anything that wasn't. Most of the side passages led to nothing very interesting, just utility rooms that she didn't care to investigate.

After almost tripping tipsily down a narrow set of stairs to a lower level, she found herself in what she believed was the storage bay. Pallets of shrink wrapped items loomed under the dim overhead LED strips that gave enough light for her to make out. It was louder, and colder, in the cargo hold. The drone of the engines and the creak of the airframe filled her ears. Fortunately, she'd found a pair of protective slippers or she'd have torn up her soles on the rough utility flooring. Goosebumps on her exposed flesh, Bee made her way through the stacks until she found what she was looking for.

As if intentionally placed under a glowing overhead lamp, the tank holding Matt's new wife was strapped on its pallet amidst all the other bulk items. Bee pressed her face against the side to peer at the woman's face. Her delicate features were not quite as beautiful or perfect as Annabelle Weaver's but not far removed either. Bee knocked on the glass, curious if the occupant would take notice. The woman didn't blink inside the suspension gel.

"You're not special. You're not," Bee said, hoarsely. She didn't know if she meant the woman inside or herself.

A voice sounded in her ear, almost startling her. Like the snake in the Garden, it asked, "Do you want to be special?"

After a short pause, Beatrice nodded.

***

Interregnum: Norma

Her time in the suspension gel was far more than it appeared. The smart fluid's nano particles constituted a complex interface array that meshed with every part of her that was enveloped in it, linking her nerve endings to an intelligent feedback engine that was able to analyze her reactions, body chemistry, neurological patterns, and multiple other metrics to dynamically create a pleasure-loop that practically drove her insane. From the moment she was suspended, it worked to stimulate her to a series of unbelievable orgasms that she could not control or stop. To the outside observer, however, it appeared almost nothing was happening.

After the initial handshake sequence, the intelligence engine could directly interact with her nervous system while her normal metabolic processes were suppressed. The fluid had a limited recycling feature and nutrient supplies, so it wasn't as if she could eat and shit in it indefinitely without exhausting its resources. Originally developed for astronauts for deep space hibernation, the gel had been modified for this unapproved use as well as for interrogation and psyops by intelligence agencies. It was far more advanced than the crash fluid used in mech suits.

For Norma, it was both an unending heaven and hell. Her brain had melted into a pure white hot light of eternal climax and fall as the intelligence engine reached its min-max cycle of stimulation. It was the perfect lover, except that it did not care in any way what she wanted. Time became meaningless as her mind flew apart.

It took what seemed like a thousand subjective years for her to regain her senses although the pleasure loop never actually stopped. However, she could piece together rational thought, enough so that she could look back at her memories and experiences with photographic ease. It was like the ultimate psychedelic trip mixed with delusions of grandeur or the meditative powers of a Zen master, as if she could know every molecule of her being and fine tune it.

Another eternity passed. She became curious if she could do anything more than float in the gel enduring the erotic pressure. After much experimentation with slight, imperceptible, twitches of her fingers, she triggered a support feature of the intelligence engine running the box. An assisted reality information HUD resolved into her line of sight. It was originally designed as a backup for the pilot or astronaut to operate the spacecraft during high-g maneuvers and whoever had modified the software had never closed this loophole.

There were no actuators or thrusters to fire so she had no ability to move or escape the container but she was able to hack into the local security camera network. Consequently, she was able to observe the activities of the crew and passengers. It seemed like her new husband was having a good time. He seemed like someone she could get along with. She amused herself by studying each person and enjoyed their fornication, which reminded her that the pleasure loop was still running in the background. She couldn't turn it off entirely but she could adjust its parameters to suit her own wants and desires.

She became a connoisseur of all varieties of pleasure, jacking off to the people in the cabin as a godlike voyeur. Perhaps this was what Mr. Weaver did to amuse himself. But she also realized that she craved the real thing. Disconnected as she was, she wanted to be back out there desperately, skin to skin. In preparation, she studied everything about her future lover, his desires, his habits, his needs. Maybe it was some secret algorithm in the intelligence engine that inspired the notion, but no matter, she would rebuild herself for him. No, scratch that, for everyone.

She spotted someone who seemed lost. Poor, broken, girl. A new thought arose. She would remake this one in her best image. Yes, Norma was an angel, sent down to guide the way so the poor heathens would join their loins with hers in the perfect image of the godhead. Her plan formed as she waited to be released from her Promethean chains.

***

"You seem a bit...drained. Please sit down and relax," Pastor observed hands in a steeple as his usual pose when Matt arrived at his office once again. Pastor continued, "In consideration, I've cancelled the usual formalities."

Matt held back a wince, recalling the previous time with the secretary.

"An unexpected honeymoon..." he managed to explain.

"Ah, you're a married man now, congratulations. And we didn't even have a bachelor party for you, so we'll have to set that for another day. New wife must be a handful."

"She was and still is." The time in the suspension gel had apparently built up her frustrations, as she'd jumped on him as soon as he'd had it unsealed. Her hedonistic appetites rivalled Annabelle.

"And how are you settling in?"

"Quite well but moving and taking care of the missus has taken up all my time recently." His triumphant return had netted him a spectacular upgrade to a full floor of the tower in an executive grade suite. Even though it had been short, he missed the time in his cozy flat. There had been little opportunity to rest with the flurry of activity. He had applications for staffing that he was far behind in processing, especially since his stock in the pet trading pool had shot up.

He'd hired Okano on as a full time assistant. He'd been relieved that she had readily accepted and she was currently conducting one on one interviews in her assigned loft. Bee would be the leader of the squad once Okano had vetted their bona-fides, intimately, of course. Annabelle was busy entertaining high flying visitors and supplicants in her floating palace, now semi-permanently moored to the top of the main tower. In a way, Matt was relieved to be out of her succubus enchantment, though it seemed he had fallen into a new one with Norma.

"As for our honored guest, I haven't had a chance to make the acquaintance yet. I'm amazed that you brought back such a prize, you're on track for the top floor. I had a feeling you might surpass me, but not so quickly."

"I really didn't do much." Matt was being totally honest but Pastor ignored it.

"No need for self-deprecation, son. I've got a new project in mind for you, one that will eclipse anything else Gladstone Group has ever financed. We've got a massive influx of outside funding thanks to your efforts but the bones of the concept were already in motion. Here, take a look at this map. The property has been purchased and we have security forces clearing out the slums as we speak." Pastor beamed as he threw up a set of plans onto a wall display. A large chunk of the barrios surrounding the Enclave was outlined for something called Bellum City.

"We've worked out permitting for the world's biggest ero-vid production set, so everything will be nice and legal. It will be a 24/7 live broadcast center and adult theme park the likes of no one has ever seen. A true, neo-Babylon, so to speak. You will be the lead manager. I've already assigned your old team to it but you'll need more hires to fill out the ranks. A list of candidates will be sent to your inbox. As you know, your excursion to the Protectorate was to inspire the model for Bellum City, the shining new star of a brighter future. I expect good things, run wild with it. Everyone will be watching." He narrowed his eyes, as if the last part was a threat, the implication being that failure would not be tolerated.

Matt sank into his chair. All he'd wanted was a modest life but circumstances had now gone beyond his control.

----

The next few months were intense with almost no down time as the project went into full swing. He barely had time to even explore his new suite in the tower before he had to move to the project site where he had an office with its own living quarters. He couldn't wallow in despair, not when confronted with the spoils of his upwardly mobile life. Including Norma, who had surprisingly become his best confidant and life partner as if she was always meant for the position. Annabelle's glamour was a distant memory.

There was something, someone, else he kept forgetting during that time, but it wasn't until later that he noticed he had missed her.

----

The bald sun was setting across the shambling broken back of the infamous boulevard as the quad-copter beat its way through the overheated air. It circled over the maze runs of Griffith Park where mercenaries practiced for various insurgencies with live fire exercises, passed the Chavez Ravine prison complex, and finally settled into the friendly airspace of Bellum City, bisected by the artificially rejuvenated Los Angeles River. The glittering assembly of buildings was a stark contrast to the bleak slums that festered like the sludge on the back of a neglected red-eared slider, somehow staying stubbornly alive despite the rancid conditions.

The copter homed in on the landing pad on top of one of the high-rises. It wasn't the Tower, but it was his. Matthew pondered how his life had come circle, back to the place of his childhood, now transformed into a faux paradise of earthly pleasures. The sealed passenger cabin of the aircraft was furnished with wood trim and double-wide leather seats. Okano sat facing him in the opposing chair, legs crossed, as fabulous as ever in her skintight gloss suit. Glued next to him was one of the pets they had taken along for the VIP tour, one of the endless formalities he had to conduct as the project head. Investors had to be coddled, buttered up, and stimulated to continue fronting the money required to finish the build. It was years away from making back the initial outlay which they had blown through within the first six months of construction. Things had been tricky until the early access program had been launched.

The pet, a peach blond, tried to kiss him on the mouth but he pushed her away. She'd recently swallowed a dozen loads. She pouted and fluffed up her mellow B-cups. A flash of memory struck him.

He asked Okano who had been staring into her datapad, "Where's Beatrice up to these days? She wasn't at the apartment for a while."

"What a coincidence. She's coming up for dinner tonight. But to remind you, she's been working full time fucking the applicant pool. I asked for the help a while back and you approved it."

Matt honestly did not remember that at all, but it made sense. The influx of recruits for Bellum City was massive as the desperate tried to escape the slums for a better life. Being hired meant room and board in the upscale development of shiny apartment towers, malls, shops, and luxury entertainment centers which all had to be staffed up with the ready and willing. Some of them were the very same people who had been displaced when the City had begun development.

The chopper settled on the pad, landing gear locked into place and the rotors folded away. Matt stepped through the transit tube that had connected to the side of the aircraft. Most of the City wasn't isolated yet from the surrounding pollution so the inconvenience was better than even briefly having to endure the acrid stench. He didn't recall it being that bad when he'd lived out there but then again maybe he'd edited a lot of unpleasant things from his mind.

Okano shooed the pet to the alternate entrance as the two continued into his executive suite. It was much smaller than the one at the tower but it was equally well appointed. The curated dorm section now held a dozen women that Norma scheduled for their various activities. She had a good touch for his moods. He had insisted on normal furniture as this was his only space for privacy, hence the pets had to stay in their own section underneath the penthouse apartment set at the top of the twenty story building.

He finally relaxed, loosening his tie and setting his jacket on the couch. Norma bustled in from the kitchen, a frilly apron barely hanging on to her front. A primeval feeling surged in Matt's chest, just as she'd planned with her gleaming eyes and halo of blond hair coifed just the way she knew he liked it. She clucked, "Put that away where it belongs. Dinner is almost ready. Bee's been a big help for once." Okano tried to hide a smirk as he wearily took the rumpled jacket to the bedroom closet.

"She's really getting into the housewife act," Okano mocked him, settling into the bedroom mattress. She kicked back and flipped on the screen on the wall. "I'm not hungry, you guys go ahead." She'd been staying with them after work on the longer days, which was quite often.

Matt went into the kitchen to grab a drink. Norma was chopping something on the cutting board, and practically subconsciously, she tilted her bare ass so he had to brush it as he walked past. reminding him to do his reps, a routine Norma had set up for him.

He pulled out his cock through the seam in his trunks and found home as she continued to work with reduced efficiency. He swore she was an addict, since she shuddered in pleasure almost instantly. It was like she was continuously edging.

Nearby, the other woman stirred a pot on the flat top range on the island. He didn't recognize her at first as but she had also angled her ass for easy access so he obliged by alternating between the two of them.

Bee had cropped her hair into a bob and colored it platinum white. Her eyes were silver and she wore black gothic lace accents including hip high garters that framed her thighs. It was obvious she had some work done though it was impeccable. The globes of her breasts were absolutely perfect as they sprung back and forth as she leaned over the counter. He inspected them with his hands as her pussy, tighter than he remembered, gripped him.

She eyed him, "What? You don't like them?"

He stammered, "Ah, they're great. Just a bit surprised. I thought you didn't like the skin cutters."

"I never said that."

Norma pecked him on the cheek, "I asked her to stay over. Run along now, we have to finish making dinner."

For some reason, dinner was awkward as he sat opposite the transformed Bee. She seemed haughty now, like a pale gothic elf and the complete opposite of what she had been. Even her wrists seemed thinner, more delicate. There was no question she was fantastic, but she wasn't the Bee he had known.

After dinner, they had a foursome on the bed, Okano automatically sliding into position while watching her favorite ero-soap on the wall screen. Since he hadn't seen her in a week or two, he nuzzled the space between Bee's newly minted breasts. It was an unexpected landscape that filled his vision.