Preview: Progenitor 3 chapter 1

Just to allay the fears that I’m actually dead, I thought I’d toss out a teaser: The first chapter of the fancy, deluxe re-release of Progenitor 3.

Progenitor 3, Chapter 1: Sibling Rivalry

I felt like I’d just dozed off when a gentle hand on my shoulder began to shake me. “Brad – this is our stop,” said a female voice.
I started to say I wasn’t Brad, but then I remembered I’d told that name to the two gorgeous girls I’d boarded the bus with. One thing had led to the next, and they ultimately asked me to “chill” with them at their sorority house. My pheromones guaranteed what they meant by “chill”, and it sounded like a good way to lay low for a few hours until I could find out if my actions at the mall had resulted in a manhunt. Right now I wasn’t sure what the fallout would be, but my response was leaning towards “run like hell”.
I stood up in the aisle to let them file out, and Erica went first. She was the taller of the two. and when she bent over to pick up her shopping bags she “accidentally” ground her ass against my crotch. That constituted restraint, since inhaling my pheromones for about a half hour had probably left her spending the last ten minutes trying to think of a way to fuck me in the bus seat. Amita, her sorority sister and roommate, hip-bumped Erica off of me and said, “Save it for the dance tonight.”
Erica was a slender white brunette with mischievous green eyes and Amita was East Indian, with medium-dark skin and a dancer’s toned body. Erica’s denim shorts just barely covered the curve of her ass, while her transparent blouse did more to show off her yellow cross-hatched string bikini than hide it. While Erica looked like she’d just left the beach, Amita’s loose-fitting electric blue running shorts and sports bra were straight out of a gym’s “reasons to go here” ad. Her top was just thin enough to leave no doubt where her nipples were, and tight enough to keep her cocoa-brown cleavage in view.
As we worked our way off the bus, I felt a few female hands caress my ass as I went by. I really wished that my alien resurrectors had given me an off switch for my pheromones, but I guess that would’ve gone against their goal of spreading their evolved genes as widely and as quickly as possible.
As the bus drove away, Erica and Amita led me down the street towards their sorority house. Their well-formed asses oscillated in front of me with a conscious, practiced strut as we walked a mile or so past large multi-story houses with Greek letters.
The weight of both girls’ shopping bags in my hands was actually refreshing. It’d been decades since I’d been this strong, and my 1940s sensibilities demanded that I demonstrate a little bit of old-fashioned chivalry to the girls – at least, until their inevitable impregnations. That outcome was a foregone conclusion today, but I hoped to get some rest before I had to get back on the run.
The front door to their sorority house was unlocked, and Erica swung it open and waved me in. “Entres vous,” she said in a mock French accent. The house was a bit small compared to most of the others, but Amita contributed that this was the smaller of their sorority’s two houses.
The first thing I noticed was a scent of potpourri candles, and the second was a cozy assembly area in their front room. The floor was faux wood paneling, accented in a few places by small rugs.
“Our room is upstairs,” Erica said as she checked a mail cubby by the door. “And house rules say that male visitors must leave by 8 – but that doesn’t matter if no one knows you’re here.” She winked and added, “It’s not like they’ll check, unless we’re really loud.”
I nodded. “And I officially accept your invite. What’re the plans for tonight?”
She grinned. “Costume rave, actually. Our sorority’s going as faeries – that means fake wings, sheer dresses, and body glitter. Others are doing Catholic schoolgirls, nurses, you name it.”
She paused for a second before she added, “You can come with us. Each of us is allowed to bring one non-Greek along, and neither of us had dates picked out.”
I grinned and said, “Sounds fun! What’re we doing until then?”
Amita nudged me in the shoulder and said quietly, “Let’s go figure that out. C’mon, before house mom sees us and makes you sign in.” She turned and walked up the stairs in front of me, and Erica and I followed. Her shorts were a work of art which revealed every curve of her early-20s ass. It was impossible not to enjoy the view, and my dick hardened a little in spite of myself.
In my position, a normal college guy would nervously micro-analyze his every move in a desperate, often counter-productive attempt to avoid messing up his chance to get laid. But my pheromones meant that sex was a foregone conclusion at this point, and all I really wanted right now was a nap before Amita and Erica inevitably took things to the next level.
Erica shouldered open their bedroom door and sat down at a desk across the room, and I selected a beanbag chair near the closest bed. The door clicked shut behind us as Amita locked it, then sat down at a bed right inside the door.
Amita plucked a t-shirt off her dresser, then slipped it over her sports bra and fumbled around underneath until she sighed with relief and pulled her bra out from under the shirtin an impressive feat of agility. Her shirt was plain and white, and far from loose-fitting. I’m sure she intended for me to notice her nipples poking through the shirt, but I avoided making any comments. I still had hopes of taking a nap before getting her pregnant.
Erica’s arms were up, her hands resting on the back of her neck as her expression begged for my attention. As soon as I made eye contact she asked, “You’re not a prude, are you?”
I shook my head, and Erica grinned widely. “Good,” she said – and pulled the string on her bikini top. She smirked saucily as she stretched and arched her back, effectively topless.
“Erica!” Amita gasped out as her friend’s bikini top hit the floor.
“Oh Amita, lighten up. You took yours off too,” she pointed out.
I smirked, leaned further back into the beanbag chair, and folded my hands behind my head. “Not like I object,” I contributed.
That was an understatement on my part. In spite of myself, there was a hard-on sticking up from my pants like a flagpole, and Erica definitely noticed it.
“I bet he doesn’t object,” sighed Amita. She arched her back a little, her nipples straining at her shirt as it rode up and exposed a few inches of firm, flat midriff.
Erica sauntered over to the beanbag chair, taking effort to ensure I noticed her breasts through her see-thru top.
“You don’t mind sharing, do you? This is my favorite spot,” she said. The warmth of her skin seeped into my side as the curve of her left breast pressed gently into my side.
I shrugged and slipped my arm around behind her back. “Sharing makes the world go round,” I said resignedly. Inwardly I sighed, realizing my nap wasn’t going to happen. And after the yelling and the screaming started, who knows how many more girls would come to investigate and stay for the orgy?
“Now Erica, that chair looks too small for the two of you,” Amita chided.
Erica giggled. “It’s fine – unless of course you were planning to join us?” she asked.
Amita’s cheeks flushed so red that I could see it through her cocoa-brown skin as she stammered out, “Well… yes, I’d like to.”
Amita’s bed was a typical girl-nest piled high with pillows, and she almost looked small when framed by them all. But I didn’t want to see the girls start fighting over me, so I interjected, “How about we move it to the bed, ladies?”
Erica cracked a half-smile and playfully punched me in the side. “Think you’re getting lucky or something?” she asked.
I wistfully replied, “I know I’m getting lucky. I’d really rather have a nap first, though.”
“Excuse you?” Erica yelped.
My only response was to stand up, stretch, then hop over onto the bed. I landed right in the center and bounced satisfyingly, leaving Erica alone in the chair staring at me in disbelief as I came to rest against Amita’s bare knees. I met her eyes and retorted, “I’m taking a nap starting right now – unless you stop me.”
Erica clenched her jaw and half-grinned at the same time, catlike and graceful. Her bare breasts swayed seductively as she shrugged out of her see-through top, leaving her truly topless. She shook her head in disbelief. “If you weren’t so damn hot,” she muttered under her breath.
Standing by the foot of the bed, Amita giggled nervously as her topless roommate snuggled up to me. Erica possessively laid her arm over my torso, and then the bed sank down a little as Amita laid down on my other side. I was suddenly grateful both girls were petite, because the full-size bed would’ve been a tight fit otherwise.
I was lying on my side facing Erica when Amita snaked her arm around my waist from behind. Erica curled up to me and ran her fingers down my chest, making me the center of a girl sandwich as two sets of fingers explored my chest. Amita felt through the fabric of my shirt as Erica picked idly at the buttons. Next, I felt air on my chest as Erica began to unbutton them, exposing the chiseled physique I’d never dieted or exercised for.
I scooted off the bed, jostling both girls in the process. “Hey!” Erica exclaimed as she regained her balance, just before my shirt dropped to the floor by my feet.
I turned around and faced them, shirtless. Erica catcalled as she reached behind herself and pressed a button on her cellphone. Some kind of pop music began blaring out of a bluetooth speaker mounted on her headboard.
“Just in case it gets loud,” she grinned. Erica leaned back in the bed, both girls watching me intently.
I wasn’t the type to refuse them a show. My shirt was already off, and my hands were on my belt. Since I wasn’t some master stripper, I stepped out of my pants one foot at a time, smiling at both of the girls in turn. At first I was disappointed that they weren’t meeting my eyes – then I noticed they were looking lower.
They were staring at the tent being pitched in my boxers. My dick was making its best effort to escape through my fly, and Erica and Amita both licked their lips nervously.
The music played on as I slipped off my underwear, escalating their expressions to open lust. My erection bounced with each step as I walked to the bed, then crawled up between the two girls again. Amita looked away for a brief moment before her eyes were drawn back to mine. Erica pressed herself up against me eagerly, while Amita seemed a little more reserved, hovering just a few inches away from me. I wrapped one arm around each girl and pulled them closer.
I turned to my right and met Erica’s eyes. I was still looking at her face when a hand wrapped around my shaft, stroking it slowly. Erica was either a master poker player, or her hand wasn’t the one in question. When I looked down, I was surprised to notice that the hand gripping my cock was actually a smooth brown.
“Amita!” Erica exclaimed in astonishment as she followed my eyes.
“I couldn’t let you lead the whole time, could I?” Amita shot back.
I glanced over at Amita, and then back to Erica. The white girl was staring daggers at her roommate. “I was about to blow him,” she protested. She looked into my eyes and pleaded, “You’d rather have that than her hand, right?”
Amita blushed but didn’t let go. “I’m taking him inside me,” she countered.
Erica’s eyebrows went up. “You? Amita, you’re practically a virgin!”
Amita said nothing, just rolled onto her back and started pushing down her shorts. Erica’s mouth dived for my penis, but was deflected by Amita’s insistent open palm.
“Oh no, you don’t!” Amita cried out, shoving hard.
Erica tottered off balance on the side of the bed as Amita straddled me cowgirl style. She hadn’t had enough time to pull her shorts down the rest of the way, but pushing the crotch to the side was enough. She was almost perfectly lined up over my shaft when she ground down, impaling herself on my erection with a contented gasp.
“Practically a virgin, huh?” Amita said as she shifted her weight so I’d bottom out inside her, my steel-hard cock completely enveloped by her hot, pulsing sex. Amita let out a triumphant moan as her pussy lips ground against my pelvis, completing our connection.
I wrapped my arms around her hips and thrust back hard, lifting her off the bed as Erica pouted at us from the side. Amita rode me tightly, not pulling back long enough for her shorts to rub. My fingers teased at her shirt, tickling the skin just beneath it. Amita shivered for a moment, then flung her shirt off. I saw her bare breasts for the first time, mid-range C cups or so that looked huge on her slim, toned frame.
Erica rolled off of the bed in surrender, standing up so she could slip her own shorts off. Her hair flowed airily, dark and shoulder-length, as she tossed her head back. “Me next, ok?” she asked.
Amita didn’t say a word, just closed her eyes and flattened out her palms against my chest as she thrust in tune to the music. Our legs intertwined as I rolled over, pinning her beneath me as I strove inside her. Every inch of my skin hungered for more contact with her as I ran my fingers up and down her back. Muscles danced beneath her skin as she gasped in pleasure, every motion a deepening of the connection we felt.
I felt a touch on my back and noticed Erica had climbed into the bed beside me again. “Save some for me,” Erica whispered – just as I arched my back as my orgasm built up, starting as a ghost of a feeling and then erupting into a conflagration of lust and instinct within seconds. I clenched my jaw as the sensation built and built, peaking over me like ocean waves until I ground myself against Amita and exploded, cumming into her so hard she let out a surprised gasp. Erica next to us on her back, her legs slightly parted as she fingered herself and waited for her turn. Amita gasped and panted as I held her tight, finishing inside her as pulse after pulse of my seed entered her vagina. It’d only been a few hours since the mall, but I felt like a teenage boy who hadn’t cum in a week. I didn’t even want to imagine what Amita’s vagina must look like at this point as I gave her those last few mini-thrusts that would milk the rest of my cum out of my erupting cock. I looked down at Amita’s face, beaded with sweat, with her eyes rolled upwards in orgasm after orgasm – all of which my cock could verify as her vagina twitched, clutching my cock as it spent its last few drops of sperm and began to shrink.
Amita’s orgasm began to taper off, and my dick finally shrank out of her, so I rolled back into my position between the girls and waited for the inevitable freak-out.
Amita rolled over and cuddled up to my side, pressing her lithe body up against me the side. Her skin still tingled from my touch, even as my sperm worked its magic within her.
Erica reached across me to slap her roommate’s thigh and pout-barked out, “No! My turn! Find your own!”
I snickered and kissed her. “You’ll be next if you want to be.”
Erica nodded enthusiastically, then looked down at my dick and asked, “How long’ll that be? Normally I’m not into sharing, but no way are you leaving this bed without satisfying me too.“
My arms were wrapped comfortably around the two girls’ shoulders, relishing the sensations of their bare skin against mine. Amita shifted her hips back and forth, wrinkling her nose a little as she felt her pussy lips gliding against each other, lubricated by my sperm. “Ok, so – I’ve just gotta ask. Brad, why’d you cum inside me?”
Erica chimed in with, “Shit, Amita! Paranoid as you are, why’d you just jump on him like that anyway?”
Amita smiled nervously. “No idea! I just had to have him, but now I’m really thinking I don’t want to go through the next few weeks wondering if I’m pregnant or not.”
I pulled her head close to me and kissed the top of her forehead. “Then I’ll tell you right now: you’re pregnant.”
Erica slapped me on the leg. “Don’t even joke about that!” she snapped.
I just half-smiled, closed my eyes, and mentally counted the seconds. The two girls settled back into snuggling up to me, their hands idly exploring my chest. I reached forty before I could feel Amita’s growing belly pressing up against me – and her first scream of shock came seconds later.
“Oh my GOD!” Amita shrieked. She rolled away from me and onto her back, her neck craning incredulously to stare at the bump now protruding insistently from her midriff.
Erica stared in shock at her roommate’s bulge, scooting backwards as if it were about to explode. “What the fuck?” she yelled.
I opened my eyes and looked from one girl to the other – both girls were standing now, their expressions flickering between disbelief and horror. “What did you do to me?” Amita demanded with her hands cradling the expanding bump in her midriff.
I shrugged. “Already told you – you’re pregnant.”
Amita spluttered for a moment, unable to come up with words for a moment as she stared down at her belly, then at me, then back to the growing bump in her midriff.
“You know what? Fuck you,” she swore under her breath and reached behind her headboard.
There was a clunking noise, and the light-framed, soft-spoken Indian woman’s hand came into view, clutching a short black revolver. She leveled it at me with a practiced two-handed grip. And most importantly, she backed away out of my reach and kept the gun aimed at my chest. I doubted that I could move before she could pull the trigger, and I hoped she’d be able to resist the urge to pull whether I moved or not.
When she snarled out, “What the fuck is happening to me?” her voice was American, every trace of an Indian accent long gone.
Erica had grabbed her cellphone and was fiddling with it, her shaking fingers unable to unlock her home screen. “I need to call the hospital, Amita!”
“Hospital?” the new voice of Amita barked, “I’m sending this asshole to the morgue unless he starts talking!”
Erica looked up from her cellphone and saw her roommate’s revolver for the first time. “What the fuck? Why didn’t you ever tell me you had a gun?”
Amita didn’t take her eyes off of me for a second. “Why tell you,” she snapped, “when you’ve got no clue how to use it and didn’t want to learn? Where’s the upside in telling you?”
My eyes were focused quite intently on the small, black revolver. I began to speak calmly, trying hard to take her mind off of killing me. “First off, kudos for being prepared – but I promise it’s unnecessary. 38 Special, right? I’m a 45 guy myself; it served me well in the Army.”
Amita shook her head. “The Army switched to 9mm in the mid-80s, asshole – my dad bitched about it after it happened. Now tell me what’s happening to me, or I’m parking a 357 magnum hollow point in your chest!”
My hands slowly raised up to either side of my head, palms out. She was stressed, but she kept the gun steady even as her belly continued to grow. “I’m getting there, Amita. When I signed up, the US Army issued me an M1911. I took it to war with me, and killed a few nazis with it – but I killed more with my M1 Garand.”
She scowled in disbelief, but I continued. “I was born in 1928, and died two days ago in my original body. They sent me back, Amita – I’ve got a second chance, and I’m here to spread the next wave of human evolution. That’s what’s happening to you – the future of our species.” Amita looked about 4 months pregnant at this point, and some of the initial shock was beginning to fade. She’d backed up until her butt rested on a dresser, and the inexorable expansion of her uterus was getting harder for her to ignore.
Amita looked down, then back up. “Tell me the truth, asshole,” she growled.
On the other side of the room, Erica looked up from her phone and froze when she saw how big Amita’s belly was already. “Shit, Amita – there’s no way they’ll get here in time.”
I pressed my point. “Do you have a better reason why you’re this far along just minutes after we had sex? I told you you were pregnant, and I wasn’t lying. You can see that. And now I’m telling you that after some initial discomfort, you’ll enjoy what comes next.”
Amita looked down again at her taut belly, which now looked about 6 months along. “I’m pre-med, studying to go OB/GYN. I know this isn’t possible!”
I shook my head. “Not humanly possible, no.”
Amita ran her fingers over the swollen surface of her belly, her surprise only deepening as she felt the outline of one of the eggs growing inside her. “Growing this fast should hurt like hell,” she marveled – but kept the gun on me. She pressed her hand against her belly experimentally, as if to assure herself it wasn’t a hallucination.
And then an unexpected, sudden contraction struck. She gasped and bent over forward, letting out a groan as fluid started cascading down her legs. Her hands went to rest on her knees reflexively, the gun pointing away from me for just a moment.
That was all I needed to discover just how scarily fast my new body was. Before I’d really thought it over, my hand shot out and snatched her revolver out of her palm in a blur of motion, like a striking snake. Amita gasped and jerked her trigger finger, pulling through empty air as the gun was no longer in her hand.
I brought her revolver up to my chest to keep it out of reach, swung out its cylinder, ejected its rounds with a slap of my palm, then threw the empty gun into a pile of clothes in their shared closet. Amita’s face registered disappointment for a brief moment before the contraction peaked, distracting her as she she gritted her teeth and groaned. She gave up on the gun, as she gripped the dresser’s edge for support, gasping in as much pain as she’d previously had pleasure.
As Amita’s belly hardened like a clenching fist, Erica just shrank up against the wall in a mix of surprise and terror, her phone completely forgotten. Amita let out a grunt and pitched forward, and I caught her by her shoulders and steered her towards the bed. She bounced lightly, curling around her swollen belly in what was almost a fetal position.
All that motion moved one of Amita’s eggs into position just above her birth canal, and her eyes widened in surprise as she felt its tip begin to part its cervix, even more surprised than by her sudden labor as the egg began opening her from within. Erica stood up and took a couple steps towards the bed, still naked but staring in a mixture of horror and curiosity as her friend thrashed on the bed.
Amita rolled onto her back as the next contraction hit, relentlessly hammering the egg’s tip into her cervix and forcing her open from inside. She let out a shriek as her cervix was forced open despite her body’s best efforts, tapering off into a moan as her body surrendered, letting the egg’s body through her cervix the rest of the way and down into the top of her vagina.
Once the egg entered her birth canal, Amita’s eyes widened in shock as her pain was instantly replaced by pleasure, the contraction making her writhe in electrifying orgasm as her labor pushed the egg farther down into her birth canal. It took only seconds before her dark brown vulva began to dilate, turning first into a dark tunnel and then swelling as the pearly white egg slid down into a crowning position. Up until the egg was visible, Erica’s attention was on her friend’s face, but as Amita’s first egg emerged from her vulva, the nude co-ed stepped closer, her trembling hands reaching out the egg before Amita even finished birthing.
Amita’s last push left the egg to drop free of her vagina, and Erica grabbed it the second it hit the sheets.
“That came out of me?” Amita asked incredulously – but then she was even more surprised when Erica turned her back on her and practically jumped into the other bed, cradling the egg she’d just laid.
“Erica? Erica, what the fuck?” she asked.
Her next contraction only hurt halfway through, when her next egg slipped into place and rewarded her with the constant orgasm of delivery. The egg slid through her birth canal rapidly, then she struggled to raise her head and look at Erica. Her friend had stopped fondling the egg and was now stroking her pussy with it, lining up the longer end and using it to part her slit.
“Erica? This is worse than the time I caught you playing with my – unnngh!”
Amita’s next egg had taken her focus, and by the time she finished delivering that, Erica had escalated to fucking herself with the egg,moaning in pleasure as she insistently attacked her own vagina over and over, pushing the egg’s tip deeper and deeper with each thrust.
“It’s not worth talking,” I told Amita, “she can’t hear you. The only thing she cares about in this world now is that egg.”
Amita looked at me in disbelief for a moment, before pain and pleasure resumed their alternating dance across her face. By the time the Indian girl had laid her last egg, Erica had managed to fully impregnate herself, the egg shoved well past the point where she could reach it with her fingers. Now the brunette was lying back in the bed, her legs closed as she bucked her hips in the air, continuing to extract orgasm after orgasm from the sensations as her vagina kept contracting, drawing the egg farther and farther up inside her.
Amita panted in exhaustion, beads of sweat running down the curves of her nude body as she watched her friend’s impregnation finalize itself, a tiny bump showing just under Erica’s belly button as her uterus expanded to accommodate the egg.
My own attention was on Amita – I’d never really taken the time to watch the aftermath of egg laying, and Amita’s belly was slowly flattening back out to its original shape even before she’d finished catching her breath.
Amita turned to me. “Level with me, Brad. Did you drug us? Am I tripping? Because that didn’t just happen.”
I sighed. “The only drugs here are my pheromones, and your pre-programmed responses to them. What did just happen, is that you and I made about six babies, and your roommate’s instincts made her impregnate herself with one of them. Technically, Erica’s going to have your baby in nine months.”
Amita’s mouth creased into a smirk as she said, “This is sounding like a pervy internet story. The kind I like.”
I furrowed my brow a little, hoping that I wouldn’t get much more into that, as I continued. “Women are driven to fuck me. Then they get pregnant with eggs like you did, and any other women who smell the egg phermones are just as driven to impregnate themselves with the eggs.” I paused for a moment, then pointed at the neat pile of eggs I’d made at the foot of the bed. “You can carry one too if you want – you’re immune from the scent pheromones, but if you start pushing it in, you’ll have the same orgasm she did.”
Amita sat up a bit, wrinkling her nose just slightly as some leftover fluid drained from her vagina. “You must pay a fortune in child support.”
I smiled wryly, my voice was tinged with regret as I replied, “Actually, no one remembers. They’ll all assume this happened the old fashioned way. This whole ‘forget the Progenitor’ instinct is why there’s no historical record of a Progenitor, even though I’m the 20th one so far.”
Amita leaned forward and picked up one of her eggs, peering at its firm but pliant leathery shell. “Pregnant?” she asked. “Nine months, morning sickness, ends in screaming, pushing, and a baby?”
I nodded.
She smirked wickedly and looked up at me. “Then fuck me again,” she said. “I want more eggs. Enough for all my house sisters.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You want to impregnate your entire sorority?”
“Well… I hate to mention it, but – this is my kink, no shit. Pregnancy and birth have made me wet since before I even really understood what that meant. I thought I’d get it out of my system by studying to be an OB/GYN, but it just makes me think about being in the chair myself, pushing. Knowing that every push makes it worse, but still not being able to stop it,” she explained. “There’s just something about that that gets me.”
“Interesting choice of kink,” I contributed carefully.
Amita sighed. “I didn’t choose it, and sure as hell don’t recommend it,” she opined. “My big turn-on is the thought of getting pregnant, and then the birth – and there are serious limits on how many times I can do that in one lifetime. I don’t even know what’ll happen to my sex drive once I hit menopause and I can’t picture getting pregnant every time I have sex. God, something like spanking would be so much easier to live with – but this is how I’m wired,” she complained.
“And then watching that,” she said, pointing at Erica, “is the biggest turn-on ever. Not only did she get pregnant in front of me, but with my baby – while I was pushing! There’s nothing I want now more than to get all my sisters pregnant and then take the last egg myself. Whether I remember how or why won’t matter – I’ll be pregnant, in a house full of pregnant women, and we’ll all be at the same stage… then, one after another, it’ll be time. In the end, it’ll be one a day, maybe more. Maybe…”
Amita’s words trailed off and she closed her eyes, shuddering in arousal. Her nipples had hardened, and her breasts had turned to gooseflesh from arousal. She clenched her eyes shut, turning her head from side to side in an unmistakably erotic gesture. When her eyes opened, they were full of determination.
“Yeah. This is happening,” she affirmed.
I had some serious reservations at this point. “You want to knock up all your sisters for basic sexual gratification?” I asked.
Amita’s expression darkened a bit. “There’s that, yes. But I’m also thinking that if each sister pops out a half-Indian baby, they’ll finally stop pretending I’m a Muslim suicide bomber when they’re drunk, or give me a hard time about cheeseburgers because they think all Indians are Hindu. I’m getting so sick of them treating me as less American than they are. Fuck, having kids might force them to develop some critical thinking skills. I’m doing them all a favor.”
I shrugged. “Well, right or wrong, just with the eggs here, there’s no way we could get ‘em out without at least some of your sisters getting pregnant anyway. Nailing them all does sound fairer, I suppose.”
Amita turned to me and matter-of-factly put both hands on her hips. “Now, about that next fuck of ours…?” she asked.

I have an actual, real life son

So, my son was born in early April. It was a C-section unfortunately, but the important thing is that my son K (yes, that’s going to get confusing with my wife K, isn’t it?) is healthy and sound.

Afraid there will be no pictures, but you can rest assured that the family is doing well and I’m taking advantage of my paternity leave to get some writing done (naturally, taking care of my wife and child come first, but there IS downtime). Progenitor 3 in particular is moving right along…

I should also mention: This kid is just over a week old, already holds his head up, and has flipped himself over once (from his back to the front). He keeps more or less disregarding the age he’s supposed to be able to start doing these sorts of things. If he keeps going the way things have been going, he’ll be crawling at one month of age. I just hope he doesn’t turn out to be a reincarnated ancient wizard or something. That should stay in the stories dammit!

Just realized I haven’t blogged about Volume 2 of my breeding erotica!

erotica print anthology 2This isn’t a release of new content, but I recently published the second volume of my breeding anthology, which brings the anthology collection up to date with what I’ve already published.

It’s available on Amazon as a 90-day exclusive, which is so that subscribers to the Netflix-style Kindle Unlimited service can read it. Once its exclusivity expires, I intend to make it available throughout the rest of the outlets as well.

Personal updates:

Being a stepdad now has taken a huge amount of my editing time away (so Progenitor 3 is way behind schedule), but I’m officially having a son! My wife K is due in April, and perversely once the baby is born I’ll probably get MORE time to write than I do now. At present, both of us work so most of my “free” time goes to parenting. When K goes on maternity leave, she’ll take over most of the duties I’ve got at present and I’ll have more time to write. In theory. 🙂

Contents of this volume:

Progenitor 2: Unexpectedly brought back from the dead, Philip Young has a lot to sort out. His new body is designed to usher in the next wave of human evolution, but that power comes with a great price. His alien pheromones have no off switch, no pause button, and permit him absolutely no downtime. Philip’s greatest challenge is trying to blend in with a world where every woman wants to rip his clothes off. (Sequel to “Progenitor”, found in Vol. 1)

Cum In Me If You Want To Live: 47 years in the future, an AI named Worldnet will make Earth a peaceful paradise. Unfortunately, the alien Solrani will attack shortly thereafter. Desperate, Worldnet finds an alternate reality where the Solrani were defeated because of thirteen key people who were never born in its reality. Worldnet sends its most advanced shape-shifting infiltrator droid back to our time to ensure that the thirteen are conceived – even if she must do it herself! (New, standalone story)

They Needed A Jump: Fresh out of a divorce, our hero is determined not to get into a rebound relationship. But when two smoking hot pregnant women have engine trouble outside his favorite gym, his chivalry gets the best of him. And when it turns out that they’re not only pregnant but unattached and horny, none of them find it possible to say no. (New, standalone story)

Evil Takes Wang: Two years ago, Eric accidentally bound himself into a lifelong contract with an imp named Rajesh. Rajesh has the ability to release him from this contract, but has only recently offered to do so – if Eric will unlock an ancient magical relic created by the wizard Merlin so that Rajesh can have its stockpile of Power. The relic unexpectedly fuses itself to Eric’s body, and now any time he becomes aroused, his penis teleports into whatever woman he’s looking at. The only way to remove it is to use it, and unfortunately for Eric, a local fertility cult finds out that he’s got the relic. Jillian, a priestess of Mordred, intends to use Eric – and her army of hunky slave men – to reincarnate her god. Can Rajesh help Eric escape the cult with his life? (Sequel to “Merlin’s Magic Wang” and “Morgan’s Curse”, both found in Vol. 1)

She Wore Shorts to the Gas Station: Brent’s filling his tank at a gas station one night, when an eye-catching girl in shorts walks by. One thing leads to another, and he catches her eye too. Little does Brent know that she and her friends have a game called “Baby Roulette”, and she’s determined to play it with him! (Sequel to ‘She Only Wore a Shirt to the Funeral’, found in Vol. 1)

A new draft of the intro to “Fallback: The Arrival”

Astute readers will probably remember my story in progress, “Fallback: The Arrival” – with its teaser first posted in March. Well, I’ve still been working on it, in between knocking up and marrying my girlfriend and having my day job step up to an utterly insane pace. Fallback is the story I work on in the bathroom at work, leveraging Dropbox and an android tablet.  Since I’d had a bit of time away from it, I realized that the story needed a few darker elements to build a traditional story conflict, and the perfect elements just tossed themselves into the story.

I’m not going to be a big spoiler-dropper, but … a computer programmed to preserve the species at all costs, tends to be a little hazy on how the individuals should be treated. And… well, let’s just say that “Smiley” is the last entity you should ever grant irrevocable consent to.

Fallback: The Arrival, First Chapter, Draft #2

Arrival – January 20, 2337
Lights flickered on in the halls of the colony ship Agamemnon for the first time in 108 years. Huge atmospheric compressors activated as well, preparing for the long process of cycling out the argon gas which had filled the ship’s idle spaces for its long period of automated dormancy. Robots powered up and began to scuttle around, wiping off dust from their optic sensors.  A few had failed to reactivate, but the system had been correctly scaled such that these losses were inconsequential. A few minutes later, the ship’s retro thrusters ignited, beginning the months-long process of braking so that it could make a long, lazy spiral into the alien solar system and the Earth-like planet within.
The Agamemnon and her sister ships had launched from Earth long ago, to plant the first of Earth’s interstellar colonies. The ship was designed to reach geosynchronous orbit, drop an orbital elevator to the surface, and then take up permanent status as a space station. Each ship was designed to support a colony of 1,800 people, and once established on the ground the colony would ideally reach 12 million inhabitants within the first five years. Presently the ship had only one crew member, and she was technically dead.
One of the ship’s avatars, Smiley, was on his way to fix that. Smiley was basically identical to the ship’s humanoid drones on the ship, except that his features had been designed to put humans at ease in prolonged interactions. Most of his outer surface was covered in tan-colored silicone panels, and a faintly glowing holographic face was projected over his otherwise nonexpressive cranial module. He’d been designed to occupy a minimally disturbing place in the “Uncanny Valley” – human enough to be familiar, but not enough to set off humans’ instinctive distrust of almost but not quite human forms.
The ship’s corridors rang with industrial noises as droids unsealed shipping containers and rearranged the colony ship’s interior, shifting it out of the travel configuration designed to minimize disruption in the event of deconpression or sudden shifts in acceleration. Smiley ignored all of those things as he opened the door to sick bay on the most critical part of the ship’s mission.
Medical Officer Kara Reagan’s cryo pod was in the med bay. Smiley slid it out from the wall on articulated tracks, checking carefully for damage as he did so. Through the clear glass lid, he could see her body, as inert as it had been for the century he’d watched over her. The only real difference between yesterday and today was that the cryo fluid which had filled her pod was draining now.
Smiley opened the pod’s lid, the heavy door yielding easily to his mechanical strength and exposing Kara’s inert body to air for the first time in a century. Rivulets of cryo fluid still flowed down and around her, to be filtered for later re-use if necessary. Kara’s body was a light tan color, physically consistent with her biological age of 28, yet grossly inconsistent with her calendar age of 136. Like most of Earth’s population by now, she was racially mixed. Her appearance had favored the white, Indian, and Latin parts of her heritage, giving her light brown skin, dark brown hair, and blue eyes.
Smiley triggered Kara’s implanted pacemaker to her heart, while simultaneously pressing her ribcage to force air into her lungs. Kara responded almost instantly, drawing air into her lungs in a ragged gasp which ended in a reflexive, wracking cough as she expelled leftover cryo fluid from her lungs. Kara Reagan, chief medical officer of the USS Agamemnon, was momentarily overwhelmed by her mammalian instinct to panic as the oxygenated fluid made its way out of her respiratory organs. She lurched against her restraints, coughing so hard she vomited before she sucked in air in a wheezing, greedy gasp. Her lungs burned as she panted and Smiley watched her body slowly recover its blood oxygen content via a pulse oximeter. As her O2 levels climbed from their resting level up to 85 percent, Smiley declared her revival a success. His projected face creased in what the computer considered a warm, congratulatory grin.
“Congratulations, Medical Officer Reagan. The Agamemnon has reached its destination, and your vital signs indicate that you’ll recover completely from stasis.”
Kara felt tired, more asleep than awake. Her eyes were gummy and unfocused, her earsfelt like they were still packed with sludge (which they were), and it was all she could do to remember that she’d actually signed up for this. She slurred out an attempt at words, then passed out again.
Smiley watched over her carefully – Kara’s vitals improved over the next few minutes as her core temperature rose and her unconscious state permitted her oxygen-starved blood to return to normal levels. Color began to return to Kara’s bluish lips, and as they recovered their natural reddish tone, Smiley reached out and gently shook Kara awake again.
“Medical Officer Reagan,” he prodded, “we’ve arrived. It’s time to start work.”
Kara woke up again, her mind clearer than before. Her eyes were able to focus this time, and locked on Smiley’s projected face. The droid unhooked her from the last of the cryo pod’s sensors, then released her restraints and helped steer her towards the nearby sick bay table.
The medical bay’s cold air reacted with her nipples, and she shivered uncontrollably as her body started violently fighting off the hypothermia which lingered after her extended dormancy. The droid handed her the sports bra and panties she’d last worn before entering stasis, and she struggled into them clumsily, with shaking limbs. Kara’s tongue parted her lips as she moistened them reflexively in a futile effort to get the taste of cryo fluid out of her mouth. “Status?”, she croaked, looking for something to take her mind off of the freezing cold her body felt.
Smiley’s face blinked away, replaced by a projection of green lights and ship systems as he recited a litany of the main system statuses – life support, propulsion, navigation – all things which she’d been trained to deal with, but not extensively.  All of the ship’s primary systems checked out fine, but the most important secondary system on the ship was critically damaged.
Kara’s role in the mission was to handle the ship’s Genesis system. Genesis was a honeycombed matrix of artificial wombs, from which Kara would transfer the infants at “birth” into incubators, where their cloned bodies would mature to adulthood in days. There were similar incubators for livestock, but the neural interfaces needed in order to program the developing minds only existed in the human pods. The primary reason for using this method in colony ships was that suspended animation systems consume a lot of weight and mass, and during the colony ships’ design phases, many questioned whether it made sense to keep even one person in stasis when machines could’ve handled the rebirth process without human interaction. Ultimately though, the stasis side had won the argument as a failsafe in the event of an in-route emergency which required human decision making within hours, not days. Though the ship’s droids were capable of everything from ship repairs to repelling theoretical boarding parties, the AI required the signoff of a human flight officer before taking any major risks. At any rate, Kara’s eyes widened in concern as she saw the sole red blinking status light on the diagnostic screen.
“What happened to the Genesis system?” she croaked out.
Smiley’s face returned, projecting a confident but concerned expression. “You recall Engineer Martinez?”
Kara nodded. “You were able to download him before shutting down life support, right?”
Smiley nodded. “Yes. But afterwards, instead of taking his euthanasia pill, he experienced what I believe was a psychotic break. While the ship’s central consciousness was in an offline maintenance mode, he destroyed all the Genesis pods and then dumped all of the human-grade artificial amnio fluid out an airlock. This is an unrecoverable failure for the Genesis system.”
Kara’s eyes went wide as she screamed out, “What the fuck?”  She stood up from the sick bay bed, fighting off dizziness and ignoring the cold now. She was still shaking, but now it was with anger. The effect was stunning – the remnants of the cryo fluid clung to her skin, making every contour of her cleavage and well-defined waist stand out. Her nipples poked at the thin fabric of her bra, and the combination of cold and anger made them stand out sharply.
“Do we have repair parts?” Kara inquired.
“Negative. Engineer Martinez also destroyed all of the supplies which could repair the pods. I have catalogued all the parts available, including those integrated into other ship’s systems, and I regret to inform you that he was completely successful.”
“Shit,” Kara swore. “What the hell was he thinking?”
She swayed drunkenly as she used her muscles for the first time in a century. Her first few steps were faltering and uneasy, but she managed to lurch to the sick bay’s door. Smiley was by her side, offering his arm for steadiness.
“Doctor Reagan, please let me assist you,” it said.
“No,” Kara gasped as she staggered out into the hallway. Beaded-up droplets of cryo fluid still traced down the contours of her near-perfect body as she grabbed the handrail for support and kept making her way down the hall. She made it a few feet before her knees buckled and she leaned on the rail to keep from falling – it was like her arms and legs were still asleep, and pins and needles began rioting across her skin as her heart pumped oxygen-rich blood throughout her system.
Kara rested against the rail for a moment, shivering, and looked up at the droid. “Smiley, did Andy say why he did it?”
“Yes”, the computer replied. “Engineer Martinez stated his motivation was religious, and he’d planned this since his conversion to Reformed Judeo-Islamic Pentecostal.  He believed that human souls only form in a mother’s womb, and that a soulless being may only create another soulless being. He stated that his faith required him to prevent the existence of an entire world of soulless humans.”
Kara raised her eyebrow and inquired, “Then why did he sign up for this? There were a hundred fucking qualified flight engineers who wanted his position, dammit! Hell, he was going to be reborn into one of those ‘soulless’ bodies he hated so much. Why didn’t he just stay home?”
“Because he determined that the Agamemnon’s final fallback option would function in accordance with his beliefs, and will permit a new colony world without resulting in a ‘world of soulless abominations’, as he put it.”
Kara gritted her teeth and started to limp down the hallway again, steadier now that the pins and needles had faded somewhat. “What fallback option? I live on the planet till I die of old age, and the droids set up a factory world? That won’t help us any.”
The computer simply replied with, “The mission is not yet infeasible.”
Kara shook her head and swiped open the incubation chamber door. “I’m going to look at what he did and see if I can do anything.”
Kara remembered the last time she saw Martinez; he was happy and jovial as he sealed her into the cryo tube. His job was critical and terrifying: his job was to supervise the ship’s out-system boost and acceleration for six months, then take a fresh recording of his consciousness before taking a euthanasia pill rather than require a second cryopod. Somehow during the six months he was supervising their out-system boost, he’d become a religious extremist and sabotaged the mission. She could see why Earth hadn’t sent a second ship with repair parts – the Agamemnon had reflected a huge investment in drive technology, and it had already been under acceleration for some time. If the ship felt it could complete the mission, there was no need to send another. At worst, the ship would just go dormant again and wait for replacement supplies to arrive in another century – unless of course drive tech had become considerably faster in the meantime. The colonists’ minds and genomes waiting in the ship’s seed stores wouldn’t know the difference.
Kara’s fond memories of the engineer vanished as the door to the genesis system opened, revealing a floor piled high with carnage and broken glass. Her mouth gaped in horror and her hands white-knuckled on either side of the doorframe.
“Oh no. Andy, you fucking IDIOT!” she screamed as she saw the scene in front of her. The honeycomb lattice of artificial wombs built into the wall was broken, the machines shattered. Glass was everywhere. Nutrient tubes had been sliced to ribbons, and scorch marks showed where Andy had taken a cutting torch to the electronic management systems meant to regrow the colonists from their own cloned zygotes.
The broken technology was bad enough, but there was a message on the wall, scrawled in red surveyor’s paint: “Souls must be born. No souls from machines.”
Kara stomped forward and glared at the message. “Damn you, Andy – you just killed us all!” Hot tears of anger ran down her cheeks as she turned back towards the door and asked Smiley, “You’re sure he got everything? No spare parts?”
Behind her, Smiley’s voice spoke up. “Using parts from the livestock pods, I could construct a replacement wombs with a 50 percent probability of success. However, the complex organic structures in the synthetic amniotic fluid are impossible to reproduce until the advanced medical facility has been deployed planet-side. That facility requires a human workforce, therefore we need colonists first.”
Kara felt dizzy – she located a chair in the room and plopped down, staring daggers at Andy’s scrawled message. She crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself against the chill she now felt in the air. “What other options do we have?”
Smiley walked into the room, his motors whirring quietly as he stooped in front of her. The computer thought the lowered posture would seem less threatening, but Smiley looked like a bear getting ready to charge. “That depends upon your willingness to participate. The last resort would be to park the ship in orbit, establish a robotic industrial facility on the planet, and try to contact Earth for replacement parts. Unfortunately, there’s no guarantee another ship will be sent. It’s likely that I and my successors would remain self-directed intelligences indefinitely. I will devote my available cycles to finding ways to replicate the artificial amniotic fluid, but success is unlikely. As you know, AI’s are inefficient at invention outside of narrowly scoped tasks.”
Kara raised her eyebrow. “Why won’t we get replacement parts?” she asked.
“Fifty years after we launched, Earth warned us via message laser that an alien species known as the Solrani were invading them. The message indicated that defeat was a near-certainty, and that Mission Control was scrubbing all records of our mission to preserve our safety. No further communications have been received from Earth.”
Kara sat down, surprise evident on her face. “So, we may be the last humans,” she said wonderingly. “The last free ones, at least.”
“Possible. We also have no idea how the other colony missions are doing. Communications lasers won’t deploy until the colony is established, and it will take years before a message reaches us. So for the moment, we are alone.”
Kara set her jaw resolutely and said, “All right, quit beating around the bush. Computer, direct question: What viable backup plan does this mission have?”
Smiley paused for a moment. “As you’re aware, the Parthenogenesis system is a two stage system – the first stage is an artificial womb where stored human zygotes develop into viable infants. The second is a growth pod, where they develop to adult size while their Syncorded consciousness is imprinted upon their neural networks, and they emerge as adults with their full memories. Engineer Martinez destroyed all but one womb on this ship.”
“Where?” she asked, puzzled. “I’m not aware of any additional emergency parts.”
Smiley made a throat-clearing noise and pointed one mechanical finger at Kara’s midriff. She frowned and followed the finger – then her eyes widened in disbelief. She spluttered out, “Wait. Computer, that’s ridiculous! Even if I wanted to, it’s…!”
Kara sunk into a chair, dazed, resting both her hands over her face.  “There’s no way,” she reiterated. “We need 1,800 crew members revived before we even send the surface expedition! Even if I were ok with it, I don’t have a long enough lifespan to -”
Smiley waved in the air, cutting her off. “While this is new and terrifying to you, Medical Officer Reagan, I have spent the last hundred years preparing nanoprograms for the medical issues involved, as well as producing appropriate quantities of my new naanites in the ship’s nanohive. Assuming your cooperation, the colony stands an excellent chance of success. If it were not for my human consent safeguards, I would have implanted the first colonist embryo before you even awoke.”
Kara leaned back in her chair, her mind reeling. “So if you didn’t need my consent, you would’ve impregnated me in my sleep?”
“Your consent is not strictly necessary – Mission Control has primary authority, but they are unreachable.”
Smiley quickly shifted tone as his thermal sensors revealed Kara’s reaction to his last statement. It was always hard to tell what would trigger a human’s reactions. He adopted what he hoped would be a softer tone and said, “I am programmed to ensure the colony’s survival at all costs, but all non-preapproved actions which affect humans require the consent of human authority. Since Earth is gone, you are now the highest ranking human authority.”
Kara shuddered. “I don’t want to be an incubator. The answer is no.”
“I’m afraid that leaves us with the factory world scenario. You will be syncorded and then euthanized – because the ship doesn’t have the cryo resources to sustain you more than a year longer, and those resources can keep the zygotes viable for three hundred more years. I will move forward with deploying the colony, and I or my successors may develop a means to produce the necessary biochem resources and reconstitute the colonists. That is improbable before the zygotes expire though, as invention has never been a strong point in self-directed AI.”
Kara closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, thinking. “So, you’re offering the supreme human commander her choice between 1,800 nine-month biological pregnancies, or death? Computer, you said yourself that there’s a three hundred year expiration date on those embryos, and basic biology says that my womb has at best forty years. How do you plan to get around that?”
“First, human reproduction is factorial –  each of your daughters will be impregnated once their bodies have matured in the second-stage incubators. I’ve rewritten the artificial wombs’ nano-aug systems to function in your body, and I’ve produced enough healing naanites to ensure that you survive any foreseeable physical trauma. You, your daughters, and their daughters will produce one child every five days for around three months. After this, the male colonists will be the final wave. Assuming that the population growth rate matches my optimal model, you will only go through18 pregnancies.”
“’Only’? That’s still barbaric! Only religious nut jobs use biological gestation at all now, and you expect me to give birth 18 times?” Kara yelled.
Smiley’s face never changed. He paused for a couple seconds before saying, “If you have input, please feel free to provide it. Otherwise, I will leave you to make your decision. You have an hour before I revert the ship to an all-argon atmosphere – which will unavoidably render you unable to breathe. I shall leave you to your thoughts.”
Kara started to say something, then stopped. And started, and stopped. Smiley’s projected face blinked into nonexistence, replaced with the unfeeling optics of his drone body.
Kara stayed in the chair for a couple of minutes, then got up and wandered back to the cryo room. There was a huge view screen on one wall, depicting the planet she’d traveled across the stars to reach. She put her hand to the glass, as if she could reach through to touch the planet. “108 years. 108 years asleep, and then I die in fucking orbit?”
The computer helpfully chirped up with, “You may take the time to compose a letter, if you wish. I’ll pass it on to anyone or anything i meet, so that you will not die unknown.”
Kara thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. “Fuck it. Computer, cancel the shutdown. I didn’t come all this way just to die in orbit.”
Kara’s head thundered with a seething cauldron of anger at Andy. She felt herself go numb inside as Smiley talked her through the next steps. First, there was an updated health scan to serve as a baseline. And then came the needles.
A colonist’s normal 2cc dose of nanos were enough to perform preventive maintenance on arteries, and to act as a secondary computer-controlled immune system. In contrast, a standard military dose was 10cc’s, enough to stop bleeding almost instantly, restart a stopped heart, or induce a coma in the event of severe injury. As the colony’s only chance of survival, Kara would receive an almost unprecedented 50cc dose of nanos, capable of performing major internal surgery under the computer’s control if necessary. Kara was as central to the colony as an ant queen, and the computer’s resources focused relentlessly on her survival. Or at least, her ability to reproduce.
The standard exam chair was silvery and throne-like in its default form. Its surface was a liquid metal, capable of reshaping itself to become anything from a flat bed to an immobilizing restraint for MRI imaging. The smallish sick bay near the cryo pod was the best-equipped medical facility on the ship, designed to function as an ICU and emergency trauma center for priority patients. It only had space for three or four patients at a time, but the odds of more than a handful of patients needing that grade of medical care at once was minuscule. Kara got comfortable and felt herself sinking into the chair as the metal scooped itself out underneath her, piling up around her sides.
“Before we proceed further, I require that your irrevocable commitment to this plan,” Smiley said solemnly. “You must agree that there is no going back on your word.”
Kara furrowed her eyebrows. “And if I refuse?” she inquired.
Smiley repositioned himself slightly. “The colony is my first responsibility. In committing resources to this plan and your personal survival, nearly all of the second tier options for the future become infeasible. In order for the colony’s future to rely solely on you, you must give up the right to revoke consent.”
“You’re just going to have to trust me,” Kara countered. “Why do you think I’m going to back out, anyway?”
Smiley gave a sheepish expression and said, “Women say a lot of things which may be ignored because they have no authority to give orders. But as the highest ranking human on board, while in labor you might issue commands which would prove… disastrous.”
Kara leaned back in the seat and evenly answered, “Then that’s a risk you’ll have to take.”
The sick bay plunged into darkness. Kara’s eyes strained for something, anything, but it was as if she’d gone completely blind. The only sound she could hear was the gentle background whirr of the ventilation system – which then slowed to a stop.
Smiley’s face dimly flared to life again above her, looming spectrally in the room’s jet blackness. He’d moved more silently than his weight and bulk should have allowed, his projected light matrix making ominous shadows dance throughout the med bay. “I’m sorry, Medical Officer Reagan, but without irrevocable consent, the factory world plan has a higher chance of success. With irrevocable consent, the odds of success rise to 77%. I need you to say ‘I hereby consent irrevocably to the fallback plan, and will bear children as necessary’.”
The room began to chill, the lowering temperature immediately bringing up goosebumps on Kara’s flesh. “Your psychological profile suggests that you will stall for as much time as possible, even when you already know the option you’re choosing. I can’t waste valuable energy and atmosphere on indecision.”
“Fucker,” she spat. Smiley ignored the insult. Kara’s nipples weren’t ignoring the temperature, and the breath she’d used to curse left a cloud in the air, eerily lit by the glow of Smiley’s projected face.
“That is not what I need to hear,” Smiley replied. “A valid verbal release will start with, ‘I grant…'”
Kara was shivering now, her arms crossed over her chest for warmth. She cut Smiley off and chattered out, “I fucking grant my fucking irrevocable consent to the fucking fallback plan, you fucker.”
Smiley paused for a second, as if thinking it over – and then the lights blinked back on and the vents began blowing warm air. “Acceptable form,” Smiley responded. “Though needlessly verbose. I shall begin with an examination.”
Kara’s lip curled as she started to say something back, but then she noticed something new: while she was distracted, metal bars had extruded themselves from the chair’s surface. She first noticed them as they bent themselves over her legs and waist, the bars flattening into bands which melded perfectly to her skin. Startled, she tried to kick with her legs, but that the chair then locked her down at her wrists, then her upper arms and shoulders.
Her face was a mask of puzzlement as she sank backwards into the chair’s metal surface, and then a band clamped itself around her neck, completely pinning her in place.
“What’s going on?” Kara asked nervously.
“I need a detailed baseline scan for reference in nano surgery. You must be completely still.”
Kara’s pulse raced – tight spaces weren’t a problem, or she’d have never volunteered for hyper-sleep. But actual restraints made her nervous, especially since it was medically unnecessary. Even though her very life had been dependent on the computer not crashing for the 108 years of her sleep, this took her up to the edge of panic, where she worried that the computer would crash in the middle of the procedure and leave her pinned to the chair for the rest of her life, a dying woman trapped in a dead ship.
A second drone walked into the medical bay and handed Smiley several vials of quicksilver-gray nano solution. The ship’s avatar expertly selected from her network of veins and injected vial after vial of nanos. Kara started trying to count the injection sites, but had to give up around the half-way mark when the injection site stopped changing – the needle marks vanished as quickly as they were made. She still felt the needles burrow beneath her skin, but the sensation vanished as they were pulled out – and then reinserted in the same exact place. Still, the 25 2cc injections came as a relentless series of repeated injections over the course of an hour, no matter how hard Kara begged Smiley for a rest break.
And just when she thought she couldn’t take another needle, the restraints released and retracted into the chair. Kara shook herself loose from the indentation she’d been trapped on, and stretched her joints. She instantly noticed her body felt different, better than ever – in fact, as she flexed her knee experimentally, she realized that her childhood soccer injury was gone.

Well, I’m a father to be

Not a joke. My girlfriend K is about six weeks along, and we’re marrying when she hits 8 weeks when risk of miscarriage drops under 5%.

NO, we aren’t going to post pics. Sorry, just not our thing. Never has been, never will be. And we’re both white collar professionals whose careers would be royally fucked over if our identities got out.

This was completely unplanned. She was on birth control pills, taking them religiously, same time every day – and I managed to breed her anyway.

We think the magic recipe was:

  • Daily, active workout routine involving lifting free weights for both of us, and swimming.
  • Bullnox pre-workout – tweaks how testosterone is processed by the muscles. Might have also rendered the progesterone in her BC pills moot.
  • Synedrex diet supplement – this is probably the big thing, it tweaks your metabolism and we think it “burned off” the BC hormones.
  • Fish oil supplements – apparently these are taken by women trying to get pregnant, not just weightlifters.
  • Positive body response to improved fitness. She was slimming down, getting into the best shape in her life. That’s got to have done something. (And it was at the gym I wrote about in “They Needed A Jump” btw!)
  • Me fucking her brains out, naturally! No condoms, never pulling out. She loves it when I cum inside her, and we THOUGHT that was safe… oopsie.

Other important facts:

  1. For anyone following my blog (haramiru.com) – this is K, whom I’ve mentioned before. Apparently the “bedroom gymnastics”, as a reader put it, have a result.
  2. She still doesn’t know my pen name, but a signed paperback “To my wife”, is going to be one of her wedding presents from me. Her trying to guess who I am, has actually been a long running hide and seek game between us, but as a married couple there will be no secrets.
  3. Our child was conceived during Comic-Con 2015, and it’s awesome that we have (non-naked) pictures of ourselves from that day.
  4. She just found out Monday morning, 8/17/15, that she’s 5 weeks along. So she’s due in late March / early April.
  5. My dog and wolf hybrid have become *INTENSELY* protective of her – they knew before we did.
  6. She craves onions already, and can’t handle eggs. Her lactose intolerance has virtually gone away. You should’ve seen the huge smirk she had when she walked in drinking a milkshake the other day, for the first time in ages.
  7. I’ve seen so many marriages get ruined when pregnancy kills the man’s sex drive… so my promise to her is that I will fuck her every day she’s willing and able. Last night I fucked her four times. My dick is raw. I’m still going at it. DICK CALLUSES BUILD CHARACTER!
  8. She does have a son from a previous marriage, and the dad’s not in his life. My stepson-to-be is great, and he’s going to be “training wheels” for my own kids.
  9. …apparently she has a breeding fetish. Holy hell the bedroom talk is straight out of my erotica novels now. And she doesn’t want this to be her only pregnancy with me.
  10. It’s freaky to me, now that I really am fucking a pregnant woman every day, how a lot of the stuff in erotica novels is ACTUALLY RIGHT. I always thought most of it, (obviously including what I wrote since I wasn’t writing from experience) was largely exaggeration.
  11. She’s moving into my house officially right after we get married. The aptly-named Labor Day weekend.
  12. Not even our families know yet. That’s gonna get really interesting, since we’ll be dealing with very religious types on both sides who view this as evidence we WERE fucking up a pre-marital storm. Oh well. Shit happens, and then you deal with it. And they can be part of our lives or butt right out.
  13. We’re not so convinced there’s only one baby in there. It’s only been a week since I wrote this and she’s already outgrowing the pants she’d previously had to skip. She found out today that she’s lost the ability to suck in her belly, and that should’ve taken longer.
  14. She’s having to try to hide her pregnancy until she gets hired perm at her job. It’s getting really tough as her belly insists on expanding a little bit every day, going forward (while she usually carries her weight to her sides).

Overall – this is pretty awesome, albeit unexpected. We had no idea just how ideal the timing was on this, and with her son getting to start school in my district without a transfer it’s going to be minimally disruptive for him too. And I’m relatively sure if I’m kept up late with the kid, I’ll end up writing more.

Egg-laying dildos for your Ishtar holiday!

Primal Hardwere's ovipositorSo, this happened.

Primal Hardwere just got their “ovipositor” covered in this Vice.com article. As astute reader A.S. noticed, it looks like something straight out of Progenitor. Using this dildo, you can lay eggs made of gelatin inside an orifice of your choice.

Well, that’s kinky, but not quite as kinky as my fans are used to. So, I will raise you all this scenario:

The Wife-Swapping Club Holds an Ishtar Party

It’s the day most calendars call Easter, but the pagans once called Ishtar. It’s also the day of the wife-swapping club’s annual breeding contest, an event they used to honor the ancient pagan fertility goddess which the holiday once celebrated. The ladies have used birth control pills to carefully align their periods, and they’re all at the peak of their cycles, actually ovulating tonight. Attendees show up in pairs, a man and a woman. Almost as soon as they arrive, the genders are separated. Women go to one room to have their blood drawn for pregnancy tests, while the men are whisked off to another where a number of skilled ladies extract their sperm. Each sample is carefully preserved, topped off to the same volume by diluting it with Pre-Seed solution, and then taken into the kitchen where the hollowed-out gelatin eggs await. By the time the jars reach the event’s hostess, all identifying marks have been removed. There are fifty jars, and she uses fifty separate syringes to load three hollowed-out gelatin eggs with sperm, and three with an inert solution. The eggs are placed carefully into small baskets, each of which has a single ovipositor in it. Each basket contains six eggs, three of which are “hot” and from a single donor, three of which are inert… and no way to tell which is which.

The hostess is done now, and a half dozen almost-nude pregnant women wearing bunny ears and very little else pick up the baskets and carry them out to the party guests. The women are all in cocktail dresses, daringly cut, with the convenient access which their fertility demands. The men are in tuxedoes; up until the pregnant bunny girls came skipping out of the back room, it was a very formal affair. But now, as the baskets thump down on the tables with an imposing finality, the air is tense and still.  Up until now, twenty five men and twenty five women have been enjoying glasses of champagne and a light dinner, in the theme of a roaring 20s speakeasy.

The hostess takes center stage and asks, “So, what are you waiting for?”

The wait is over. The time is now. Each couple has a basket on their table, and to leave eggs in it at the end of the night is to never be invited again. Every man wonders: Whose cream eggs, so to speak, are these? Will my wife be inseminated with my sperm, or my friend’s, or the guy two tables away? Some couples trade eggs with others. They might be getting blanks, or they may be getting a second donor’s sperm. If they trade eggs with several couples, the chances of some of his cum ending up inside of her increases, but the probability that it’ll be competing against other mens’ cum increase as well. They only have ten minutes to decide, many of the couples horse-trading amongst each other as if they were gambling breeding rights for a prize mare. When the bell rings at the end, it’s time for the breeding.

Some women choose to return to their tables, others lay down and spread their legs on the floor. A few retire to couches around the side of the room, but all decide upon somewhere. The bell rings again, and the air fills with the sounds of twenty five women being entered at the same time. Some take their fate in their own hands, sliding the ovipositor into their own vaginas with a defiant glare. Others have their men do it, entitling them to say they inseminated their women that night, whether it was with their seed or not. A few enterprising swingers made exotic arrangements, their women hooking the ovipositors together in a double-ended configuration, thrusting and gyrating as they compressed the shafts to lay eggs inside each other as they ground the toys into each others’ pussies until their vulvas touched. As the night moves on, clothing gets discarded – dresses are torn, tuxedos lie forgotten in the corner. While a few couples were content to rely upon the ovipositors and then recline on the couches to watch the rest of the night’s spectacle unfold, most only used that as the starting point. Almost as soon as the last eggs were inserted into the waiting cunts, most of the men were mounting their women, trying to ensure that whatever sperm she’d just taken deep inside of her would face stiff competition from his own.

When they gathered again four weeks later, the women sipped grape juice as attendants drew their blood for pregnancy tests. The winners – defined as any woman who’d gotten pregnant during that cycle – were announced after dinner. There was a groan throughout the room from the barren couples, as the $20,000 stakes they’d contributed were redistributed to their fertile competition. But even amongst the losers, none of them regretted participating – they only redoubled their resolve to breed next year, when the contest was held again.

Haramiru’s 2012 Breeding Erotica collection now on Kindle Unlimited

I’m trying something new here…

I’ve never had a love for Kindle Select and its obnoxious exclusivity periods. However, since sales have dried up on the anthology collection in other sales outlets, I decided to see what happens if I put it under Kindle Select so that subscribers of Kindle Unlimited are able to read it for free with their plan. I’ve always loved the concept of Netflix-style access to erotica – just, most of the services which provide Netflix-style subscription access don’t allow erotica.

In other news, I’ve had the last two days off and have been making progress on Progenitor 3. Once it’s completed, I’m thinking of releasing a second erotica collection, which would include everything released since the first volume. That would include “Cum in Me If You Want to Live”, “Evil Takes Wang”, “Progenitor 2”, and of course “Progenitor 3”.

Progenitor 3 excerpt

Cally stood back up and unscrewed the tube of glitter, then dumped it right into the path of the nearest vent. The water immediately began to churn with sparkly bits. “It takes about fifteen minutes for the glitter to apply,” she said. “Now we just have to figure out something to do with those fifteen minutes.”
Cally walked back over to her spot in the tub and sat down, scooting down to her neck.
Amita leaned back and whispered into my ear, “We’re going to need more sperm.”
I raised my eyebrow. “How do you intend to get it?” I asked.
The Indian girl smirked and turned around to face me, spreading her legs so that she straddled me in the water. “Lose the shorts.”
Disbelieving yelps came from the rest of the girls in the tub as Amita ground her hips against me to emphasize her point.
“No fucking in the hot tub, Amita!” Cynthia cried out.
Amita turned her head and looked at Cynthia. “You’re just pissed you didn’t think of it first.”
There was a splash of water, and suddenly Wendy was at my side, her red hair plastered to the side of her face. “Fair disclosure – I thought of it as soon as I got in,” she contributed.
Wendy’s’s hand was on the right side of my trunks, and Amita’s was on the left. They practically yanked off my swim trunks, then Amita stood up to pull her swimsuit down. Wendy chose a faster approach, though – she just tugged her swimsuit to the left and squatted over me, her vagina lining up perfectly over my rock-hard member. My eyes rolled back in pleasure as I felt her silky smooth warmth enveloping my penis. I surrendered to the moment, wrapping my arms around Wendy’s waist and steering her as she rode me, my penis exploring her as deep as it could. Amita stood there for a moment, opening her mouth as if to say something, and then shut it.
“Fair’s fair. But I go next,” she said.
“God, I can’t believe they’re doing that in front of us all, like animals,” Cynthia said to Cally.
Cally ignored her – she was leaning forward, unable to take her eyes off of Wendy’s alabaster back rising up out of the water and then sinking back down. Her pussy clamped down hard, squeezing me as my cock explored her inner depths. I knew Amita was pissed that Wendy was going to get laid, but the end result was still going to be the same: excess sperm dripping out of Wendy’s pussy would be enough to impregnate the rest of the sorority, especially with the jacuzzi jets ensuring that it would mix with the rest of the tub water.

Progenitor 3 progress!

I just finished editing the second chapter of Progenitor 3. This may not sound like much, but it’s been the problem chapter for me in this whole story. It also establishes why Amita wants to lay dozens of eggs, and why she wants to impregnate all of her sorority sisters with her own children.

I’ve got 16k words so far in this story, and I expect to write another 8k or so before it’s done. I’ve gotten the first 8k words of this story edited into a presentable form now, and I expect the next 8k will be much easier to edit – and then there’ll be a final 8k of new content to write. This should also be much easier now that Amita’s been rewritten to be less unbalanced.

Happy Comic-Con, folks

It always amuses me when I see the annual sales spike that coincides with the San Diego Comic-Con. Whether this is due to the sexy costumes reminding folks that science fiction characters are desirable, or fans looking for something sexy to read in their hotel rooms at con, I don’t know.

Either way, to anyone attending, enjoy!

Just a follow-up to Fallback…

Kara: It’s starting

Fallback - Its StartingI’ve managed to actually get Daz3D to do something useful for once, and what it’s done is produce a picture from Fallback: The Arrival.

Kara’s already inserted the first of the colonists’ embryos, and she’s inspecting the ship when she feels the first burst of fetal development beginning.

I think I’m going to try something different with Fallback – post it in small installments on Amazon under Kindle Unlimited as I write them, then once it’s done make the completed story available everywhere. That shouldn’t fall afoul of Amazon’s exclusivity crap, in theory.

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