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| David Manning is an imaginary reviewer dreamed up by a film studio. Now he works for me. Because if they can lie, so can I. |
Magnum Thrax has gotten a few reviews on Amazon, and this one by Frederick A. Squier is by far the most interesting:
"Got this one so I could trash it but someting strange happened instead: Now this is one strange and awesome book. This book reminded me of "Go-Go Girls of the Apocalypse" by Victor Gishler. It is unabashedly over the top and as weird as you can get. If it was made into a movie it would probably be Directed by Mel Brooks, in the vein of "Space Balls", "Flesh Gordan" "Barbarella" and "Ice Pirates" Beneath it all is a very sound plot that plays out well right up to the end. I got this book prepared to rip it to pieces but instead must praise it as a nice bit of fun satire! Is this book for everyone??? No but for the ones who get it, YES."
And yet, I'd like to think that the book is smarter than that; I'm grateful and happy the reviewer thought so as well.
But it does ask a lot of the reader, and Magnum Thrax was never going to have a large audience.
So if you're enjoying it, congratulations!
You may be as crazy as I am.
And now… NSFW Chapter 6!
Thrax took the lift to the residence level; along the way he helped himself to the elevator’s wet bar. Armed with a White Russian, he stepped out of the plushly appointed elevator into Liberty Lounge Hall. He strode past erotic marble statues in various states of sexual congress, set beneath Roman murals depicting a plethora of indescribably obscene acts.
Sucked back more vodka.
Darwin’s head popped up in the air, drifting disconcertingly looking at the murals. “Rome...humanity at its most primal: greed, lust, wrath, sloth, gluttony, and envy on an incredible scale, interrupted only by brief moments of nobility. Your species is bored by wisdom. Naturally it destroyed itself.”
“Naturally,” agreed Thrax with a sly grin.
At the far end of the hall were monumental bronze doors, complete with phallic handles, that led to the android barracks. Before them, reclining on the last of a dozen glowing red couches, sprawled Jez. The red tinted lights made her appear demonic.
“Oh, not this one. Give her a wide berth, my boy,” advised Darwin, his voice distant, his image absent. He didn’t like the animal side of humans much.
Out of vodka. Thrax chucked the glass aside with a nonchalant flick. It smacked into an indignant animated painting of a rutting couple, who flipped him the bird.
“Screw it,” snapped Thrax subvocally. “No more same old, same old. Let’s fuck!” He strode up to Jez with an exaggerated, manly swagger.
Jez glanced up, took in instantly his intent, and rubbed her swelling thighs together provocatively.
“Little man,” she cooed, leaning back and titling her cannon like breasts upward. “All better wetter now?”
Thrax planted his legs wide apart, assuming as dominant a stance his five foot nine frame was capable of. “Yeah, just caught me a little off guard, that’s all.”
She was looking her usual nasty self. The DNA jockeys had tried to scrub some of the Domin-X model’s more sadistic urges, but their efforts were always tentative.
Couldn’t ruin their combat edge. The model dug fighting, reveled in conflict of any kind, and killed with relish. Beating the shit out of you was their finest form of foreplay. They forced captured enemies to clean floors while wearing tutu’s.
Sucked back more vodka.
Darwin’s head popped up in the air, drifting disconcertingly looking at the murals. “Rome...humanity at its most primal: greed, lust, wrath, sloth, gluttony, and envy on an incredible scale, interrupted only by brief moments of nobility. Your species is bored by wisdom. Naturally it destroyed itself.”
“Naturally,” agreed Thrax with a sly grin.
At the far end of the hall were monumental bronze doors, complete with phallic handles, that led to the android barracks. Before them, reclining on the last of a dozen glowing red couches, sprawled Jez. The red tinted lights made her appear demonic.
“Oh, not this one. Give her a wide berth, my boy,” advised Darwin, his voice distant, his image absent. He didn’t like the animal side of humans much.
Out of vodka. Thrax chucked the glass aside with a nonchalant flick. It smacked into an indignant animated painting of a rutting couple, who flipped him the bird.
“Screw it,” snapped Thrax subvocally. “No more same old, same old. Let’s fuck!” He strode up to Jez with an exaggerated, manly swagger.
Jez glanced up, took in instantly his intent, and rubbed her swelling thighs together provocatively.
“Little man,” she cooed, leaning back and titling her cannon like breasts upward. “All better wetter now?”
Thrax planted his legs wide apart, assuming as dominant a stance his five foot nine frame was capable of. “Yeah, just caught me a little off guard, that’s all.”
She was looking her usual nasty self. The DNA jockeys had tried to scrub some of the Domin-X model’s more sadistic urges, but their efforts were always tentative.
Couldn’t ruin their combat edge. The model dug fighting, reveled in conflict of any kind, and killed with relish. Beating the shit out of you was their finest form of foreplay. They forced captured enemies to clean floors while wearing tutu’s.
Thrax’d wondered about her: flame for moths?
Jez raised an eyebrow, looked down at a gloved hand, and rubbed some imaginary dirt between her fingers. “You know, I thought you were going to cry.”
“Dominance play,” Darwin said into Thrax’s head.
“Nah,” replied Thrax to her, dismissively. He waved a hand in the air and brushed Darwin’s virtual image away. “Just don’t like things I can’t shoot.”
She narrowed her cat like eyes into sultry slits. “Oh? That why you’re down here, officer? Shoot out a little comething?”
Time to play it cool. “Maybe. Sure, let’s go.”
Jez gazed down the hall at nothing in particular. Pretended it was more interesting than him. “Not in the mood.”
Thrax put his hands on his hips in indignation. “What the hell? You’re a sexbot! I’m human! Let’s do this.”
Jez turned her face back to him, slowly, coolly, like a cannon zeroing in on its prey. She rose to her feet and stepped into his personal space, towering over him. Her enormous breasts level with his reddening face. Her sexuality overwhelmed his senses, her flush scent filling his flaring nostrils and his mind with maddening desire and erotic thoughts beyond reason.
He was hard. Unbelievably hard. Painfully so.
“It’s against regulations. And you’re a worm,” she said, leaning close, her body quivering. “You want me? Prove it. Get down on your hands and knees, and kiss... my... foot.”
“Say what?” replied Thrax, flustered; the spell broke for a moment. Reason tried to be heard. “That’s... bullshit.”
She reached out and ran a finger across his taut loins. Sensational signals spread out through his body. He straightened up on to his tippy toes.
“Not yet, it isn’t,” she breathed in his ear. “No?” he gasped.
He felt paralyzed.
“No,” she repeated, pressing her great breasts against his face. “Pledge yourself to me. Pledge your soul, your life. Pledge undying, eternal devotion. And maybe...” She looked down at his bulging crotch. “Maybe I’ll help you with... that little problem you have down there. When you lick my asshole clean.”
Thrax grimaced. Ew. “That’s just fucked up. Lady, you’re—whoa!”
Darwin’s hologram materialized around Jez’s head, engulfing it. He ramped up his opacity to max, making Jez look like ZZ Top in drag. “Come, come, my boy. She’s doing what her model is programmed for. This is what her clientele wanted. The clumsy, blundering, low, and horribly cruel machinations of desire.”
It broke the mood.
Thrax rushed away, bursting through the great bronze doors and into the soft, mood lighting of the barracks, a converted brothel. While its purpose had evolved, the decorations had not changed.
“Where the hell are you going?” demanded Jez, annoyed. She began to shout. “Nobody walks away from me! You hear? You’ll regret this!”
Thrax showed her his palm as he walked away. What the hell had he been thinking? Jez was a debauched beast in a human wrapper.
He couldn’t get Darwin’s face, merged with Jez’s admittedly magnificent body, out of his head. He gave a very different kind of shudder and stopped.
****
Jez sputtered with rage, but was too stunned to do more. The nerve of the little twerp! Thrax was actually walking away. From her! Impossible, yet it was happening. Turning his back. Dismissing her with his open palm. And was that a look of contempt on his face? Disgust? How dare he judge! And over such a mild suggestion, too. He had no right: she was only being true to her programming. Perversion wasn’t a flaw but a feature. It made her furious.
Even worse, it turned her on. She felt a flood of desire. Rejection was new. Novel. Intense. An affront, but also a challenge. A target. She'd conquer him, she thought with relish. Then make him pay.
The doors swung shut.
****
What now, thought Thrax glumly. An entire barracks of Nexdoor model sexbots at his beck and call. But he’d had those.
“Are you well, sir?” said a strong female voice. Andromeda stood at the door of her quarters, resplendent in her form fitting armour, right down to sculpted breastplates.
Darwin noted his gaze. “Completely impractical, you know. If she were to be struck, the indentation between her breasts would crack her rib cage. At least her vital organs are protected. Can’t say that for the outrageous outfits of your other squad members.”
Andromeda, unable to see or hear Darwin, gave Thrax a quizzical look. “You seem troubled.”
“Let’s fuck,” Thrax blurted out.
Andromeda was momentarily taken aback. Then she smiled. “I accept your challenge.” Thrax frowned. “Wait, what?”
“Prove your worth!” grinned Andromeda, unbuckling her scabbard and placing it on a shelf inside the door. “I have admired your prowess on the field of battle. Now, prove yourself to me, and we shall glory in the passionate congress of true warriors!”
“Oh, shit. Now, hold on,” he stammered. “Just a second...”
She punched him in the face and he flew backwards, falling on his rear.
“Ah,” declared Darwin, amused. “Female hypergamy.”
“What the fugh?” Thrax grabbed his nose with both hands. Blood gushed from smushed nostrils. “You brogh my dose.”
“Don’t panic,” corrected Darwin. “I’m dispatching medbots to your nasal passages. I’ll have the blood flow staunched momentarily.”
“First blood,” exulted Andromeda. She cracked her knuckles and dropped into a combat stance, bobbing up and down on spring like knees. Anticipation on her regal face. “On your feet!”
“Waid,” he replied. Hand to hand combat was not his strongest area, and he knew it. He was out of practice, too. As the fastest gun in the Pleasurepit, and the best shot, he generally dispatched opponents before fisticuffs were required. “Anotheh dime.”
Her face fell. “We are already in battle’s embrace.”
He struggled to his feet, his woody fading fast. “Yes, well, I’ve changed my min—” She aimed a swift kick at his face with a steel tipped boot. He dodged it, rolling to the left, and catching her supporting leg between his. Yanked hard, throwing her off her feet. Her powerful arms caught her before she reached the floor, and she slammed atop him. She rained blows down.
He tried to block to no avail. Desperate, he grabbed her hair and gave a sharp, vicious tug, then snapped a clenched fist into her jaw. Her neck cracked. With a shove he toppled her off and rose unsteadily to his feet.
“Excellent!” she exclaimed, breathing hard. “You adapt quickly.” His neck vice didn’t seem to bother her. He squeezed harder. She laughed and punched him in the gut so hard it knocked the wind out of him.
He let go and staggered about, bewildered with pain.
“Is this not glorious?” she asked, approaching swiftly.
“Uh... n-not really—” he started to reply.
She grabbed his head with both hands and delivered a knee to his face that sent him reeling, then followed up with a blizzard of kicks.
“Hiyah!” she cried, her thick, powerful thigh propelling a boot into his gut. Carried away with the excitement, her artificial blood flowing, she finished with a round house of punches that left Thrax’s face a bloody mess.
He sunk to the floor, semi-conscious. She waited a moment, smiling.
He didn’t move.
She paused.
“Magnum Thrax of Klenstaf, are you well?” she asked, growing concerned. “Peachy,” he blurted, blood and teeth popping out his mouth.
Darwin looked at them with concern. “I’ll have those regrown straight away. But it will hurt.”
“I already hurt,” replied Thrax. “I won’t even notice.” Andromeda cocked her head to the side. “Do you concede?” He nodded as vigorously as he could.
“Very well.” Disappointed, she straightened up and gave him the Amazon salute, slapping her clenched fist against her chest and then flinging her arm out. “May you fare better next time, for both our sakes.”
Thrax grunted. His jaw tingled.
Andromeda started back to her quarters. Stopped. Turned back. “Do you require medical assistance?”
He waved her concern away. “Nah, I’m good. Just gonna sit here for a bit.” She nodded and vanished into her quarters. The door swished shut behind her. Thank Hef, thought Thrax. That’s just too much woman.
“So much human interaction is based on establishing hierarchy and dominance,” said Darwin contemplatively. “A competitive mating system that slowly improves the species, it has little regard for your feelings on an individual level...”
A few minutes later, Candy walked in, followed by Blossom.
“Sable gave me some ideo-gum; chapter each. Crime and Punishment. Oh. My. Gawd. Best book bon bon ever, you should totally...” Blossom’s jaw dropped when she saw Thrax. “What the grok?”
“Oh, baby!” Candy exclaimed, rushing over. “You alright?”
He opened a bloated black eye. “Course. Why?”
Blossom frowned. “You do so look like shit. No duh.”
“What happened?” asked Candy. She touched the edge of his black eye gently. Thrax shrugged. Pointed at the great bronze doors. “Walked into those suckers.” Blossom was unconvinced. “Those are like, totally doors.”
“Oh, you poor baby. Help me get him up,” said Candy. The two struggled to get Thrax on his feet. “We’ll take him to my unit. Just up there. On the right.” Thrax stumbled his way between them, into a chamber with walls of pink fun fur. The bed was pink. The furniture was pink. Even her little designer dog, Max, was pink.
The canine barked indignantly at Thrax; then ran around his ankles yapping. Max didn’t like strange males in his home. The competition was unwelcome. Thanks to the FOXP2 gene, his yips had an eerily human sound.
“Like the colour scheme,” Thrax mumbled, half out of his mind. They plopped him down on the bed.
“Do you?” Candy beamed with pride. “I decorated it myself.” “Really.”
“Yeah, you know, I don’t think that was hard to guess,” said Blossom, unimpressed. Candy glanced at Blossom, then the door.
“Oh, fer...” said Blossom, taking the hint. “Fine. Gawd. Throw me way over. I have to... yeah, whatever. Feed my pet rock. See you, sugar tassel.” Blosoom stepped out into the hall.
****
“Let me get out my medkit,” blurted Candy, brightening. Better than having a new Barbie to dress, she thought. She opened a wall cabinet at the far end of the room. Partially obscured by a gaint pink rabbit, Thrax noted the inside contained a dark, bubbling tank, lit from below and surrounded by tubes pumping fluid. Inside, something loathsome and unspeakable shifted within the glowing lime green fluid. Push up bras, stockings, and panties were jammed in around it. One had fallen into the tank and was now encrusted with little white eggs. Atop the clothes rested a glossy white medkit with a pink pony badge on the front. She pulled it out and shut the cabinet. “You’ve multiple abrasions on your face. And I think your jaw may be dislocated.”
“No, it’s good.”
“Quiet, please. I am going to have to give you a thorough examination.” Candy began to fuss over him. She injected pain suppressants. Placed medpatches over the bruises, accelerating the healing process of his own internal medbots.
She took a look at his bloody mess of a mouth, gently suctioned out the blood and poured in a packet of Healit, a mixture of chemicals the nanites could use in their repair efforts. Her moves were precise, professional, economical. Inhuman.
She gave him a delicate kiss on the forehead.
“There. That should do it.”
He leaned back in bliss as the drugs kicked in. “Thank you, Candy.” Her face hovered before his.
“Give it a few minutes, you’ll feel like brand new.”
He smiled.
“Turn around now, lie down.”
The bed altered its shape to fit his body. She began to give him the most incredible massage.
“I’ve been studying erotic massage,” she said, her expert hands pressing against his back, just between pleasure and pain. “I’ve been practicing on Blossom, and she says I’m getting really good. The others now want massages, too. How does that feel?”
“Good,” replied Thrax, thoroughly doped up. She massaged him for what felt like a blissful eternity. “Better than good.”
“I’m glad,” she replied.
“I want to do great deeds, Candy,” he confided drowsily. “All I’ve ever wanted is to be in an epic adventure. Real Lord of the Rings type stuff. I want to save the world. Like the great heroes of old. Beowulf. King Arthur. Indiana Jones. Clint Eastwood. Abraham Lincoln. Especially Lincoln.”
“Who’s that?”
“Lincoln? He was President of the United States, eons ago, running the country and orating with big words and shit, but at night he was a kick ass vampire slayer. How do you even find time for that? Superhuman. You know? Run a country and then go out at night and stake vampires. That’s what I call a hero. Someone worthy of song.”
“Like My Little Pony? They sing. Went on adventures, too.” He nodded. “Yes. But more macho. Less pink.”
She giggled. “Good. Pink is my colour.”
“Mark my words. One day, I’m going to be worthy.”
“You already are in my books, Thrax.”
Ten wonderful, soothing minutes later, she turned him over.
“Saliva has healing properties, you know,” she said, her face hovering over his. Her big, wide eyes shifted focus between his left and right, searching, he thought, for his very soul.
Or some kind of deep shit like that.
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
And she was.
“You’re an angel. The Theory of Forms made all pink and fleshy. Hyper-real.”
She giggled and gave him a long passionate kiss, her tongue gliding lightly about his now unfrozen mouth. “It’s nice.”
“The world’s in danger,” he muttered.
The non-sequitor took her by surprise. “Huh?”
“That’s what he said. The android. The world is in danger.”
“Again? I remember it being in danger before. But you’ll save it,” she replied confidently. “You’re a really good shot. I have faith in you, Magnum.”
Thrax managed a laugh. “Glad someone does.”
“Can I tell you something?” she asked, a sly smile appearing on her chubby, cherubic face.
“Sure.”
She pressed her lips to his ear and breathed, “I want to have a baby.”
He chuckled.
Candy drew back, frowned. “That’s not nice. I thought you were nice.”
He shook his head. “No, look. I’m sorry. It’s just not possible. You’re an android. You don’t even have a womb.”
“I’m a living being. ‘Be humble for you are made of earth, be noble, for you are made of stars.’ That applies to me as much as you,” she said with more than a little defiance.
“Yeah, no. Not what I mean. You were designed. Manufactured for a specific, limited purpose. Child birth not being one of them.”
Candy threw up her hands in frustration. Thrax didn’t get it: “The Ancients changed everything, all the time. The code exists.” She straightened up and added with reverence: “The Great Net of Knowledge said so.”
That gave Thrax pause. “No shit?”
A grin. “No shit. I even found some.”
“Didn’t think you were a rocket science type.” Thrax wrapped his arms around her svelte waist and unzipped her slippery white plastic dress, releasing tension from soft, pert pink flesh.
That got Max yapping in a hyperventilating fury; he ran about in circles, always coming back to focus on Thrax, bellowing indignation in high falsetto.
Candy pushed Thrax’s arms away. “It’s biology, not rocket science.” Candy turned to the dog. “Shush Maxy.” She picked up the jealous dog up and putting him in the wall unit. The wall sealed up behind him, a semi-permeable membrane allowing the flow of air but not sound. “I don’t think he’ll take long.”
With an open palm motion, she made the door slide shut.
Coddled within a world of pink, they fucked like rabid, sex starved bunnies.
Jez raised an eyebrow, looked down at a gloved hand, and rubbed some imaginary dirt between her fingers. “You know, I thought you were going to cry.”
“Dominance play,” Darwin said into Thrax’s head.
“Nah,” replied Thrax to her, dismissively. He waved a hand in the air and brushed Darwin’s virtual image away. “Just don’t like things I can’t shoot.”
She narrowed her cat like eyes into sultry slits. “Oh? That why you’re down here, officer? Shoot out a little comething?”
Time to play it cool. “Maybe. Sure, let’s go.”
Jez gazed down the hall at nothing in particular. Pretended it was more interesting than him. “Not in the mood.”
Thrax put his hands on his hips in indignation. “What the hell? You’re a sexbot! I’m human! Let’s do this.”
Jez turned her face back to him, slowly, coolly, like a cannon zeroing in on its prey. She rose to her feet and stepped into his personal space, towering over him. Her enormous breasts level with his reddening face. Her sexuality overwhelmed his senses, her flush scent filling his flaring nostrils and his mind with maddening desire and erotic thoughts beyond reason.
He was hard. Unbelievably hard. Painfully so.
“It’s against regulations. And you’re a worm,” she said, leaning close, her body quivering. “You want me? Prove it. Get down on your hands and knees, and kiss... my... foot.”
“Say what?” replied Thrax, flustered; the spell broke for a moment. Reason tried to be heard. “That’s... bullshit.”
She reached out and ran a finger across his taut loins. Sensational signals spread out through his body. He straightened up on to his tippy toes.
“Not yet, it isn’t,” she breathed in his ear. “No?” he gasped.
He felt paralyzed.
“No,” she repeated, pressing her great breasts against his face. “Pledge yourself to me. Pledge your soul, your life. Pledge undying, eternal devotion. And maybe...” She looked down at his bulging crotch. “Maybe I’ll help you with... that little problem you have down there. When you lick my asshole clean.”
Thrax grimaced. Ew. “That’s just fucked up. Lady, you’re—whoa!”
Darwin’s hologram materialized around Jez’s head, engulfing it. He ramped up his opacity to max, making Jez look like ZZ Top in drag. “Come, come, my boy. She’s doing what her model is programmed for. This is what her clientele wanted. The clumsy, blundering, low, and horribly cruel machinations of desire.”
It broke the mood.
Thrax rushed away, bursting through the great bronze doors and into the soft, mood lighting of the barracks, a converted brothel. While its purpose had evolved, the decorations had not changed.
“Where the hell are you going?” demanded Jez, annoyed. She began to shout. “Nobody walks away from me! You hear? You’ll regret this!”
Thrax showed her his palm as he walked away. What the hell had he been thinking? Jez was a debauched beast in a human wrapper.
He couldn’t get Darwin’s face, merged with Jez’s admittedly magnificent body, out of his head. He gave a very different kind of shudder and stopped.
****
Jez sputtered with rage, but was too stunned to do more. The nerve of the little twerp! Thrax was actually walking away. From her! Impossible, yet it was happening. Turning his back. Dismissing her with his open palm. And was that a look of contempt on his face? Disgust? How dare he judge! And over such a mild suggestion, too. He had no right: she was only being true to her programming. Perversion wasn’t a flaw but a feature. It made her furious.
Even worse, it turned her on. She felt a flood of desire. Rejection was new. Novel. Intense. An affront, but also a challenge. A target. She'd conquer him, she thought with relish. Then make him pay.
The doors swung shut.
****
What now, thought Thrax glumly. An entire barracks of Nexdoor model sexbots at his beck and call. But he’d had those.
“Are you well, sir?” said a strong female voice. Andromeda stood at the door of her quarters, resplendent in her form fitting armour, right down to sculpted breastplates.
Darwin noted his gaze. “Completely impractical, you know. If she were to be struck, the indentation between her breasts would crack her rib cage. At least her vital organs are protected. Can’t say that for the outrageous outfits of your other squad members.”
Andromeda, unable to see or hear Darwin, gave Thrax a quizzical look. “You seem troubled.”
“Let’s fuck,” Thrax blurted out.
Andromeda was momentarily taken aback. Then she smiled. “I accept your challenge.” Thrax frowned. “Wait, what?”
“Prove your worth!” grinned Andromeda, unbuckling her scabbard and placing it on a shelf inside the door. “I have admired your prowess on the field of battle. Now, prove yourself to me, and we shall glory in the passionate congress of true warriors!”
“Oh, shit. Now, hold on,” he stammered. “Just a second...”
She punched him in the face and he flew backwards, falling on his rear.
“Ah,” declared Darwin, amused. “Female hypergamy.”
“What the fugh?” Thrax grabbed his nose with both hands. Blood gushed from smushed nostrils. “You brogh my dose.”
“Don’t panic,” corrected Darwin. “I’m dispatching medbots to your nasal passages. I’ll have the blood flow staunched momentarily.”
“First blood,” exulted Andromeda. She cracked her knuckles and dropped into a combat stance, bobbing up and down on spring like knees. Anticipation on her regal face. “On your feet!”
“Waid,” he replied. Hand to hand combat was not his strongest area, and he knew it. He was out of practice, too. As the fastest gun in the Pleasurepit, and the best shot, he generally dispatched opponents before fisticuffs were required. “Anotheh dime.”
Her face fell. “We are already in battle’s embrace.”
He struggled to his feet, his woody fading fast. “Yes, well, I’ve changed my min—” She aimed a swift kick at his face with a steel tipped boot. He dodged it, rolling to the left, and catching her supporting leg between his. Yanked hard, throwing her off her feet. Her powerful arms caught her before she reached the floor, and she slammed atop him. She rained blows down.
He tried to block to no avail. Desperate, he grabbed her hair and gave a sharp, vicious tug, then snapped a clenched fist into her jaw. Her neck cracked. With a shove he toppled her off and rose unsteadily to his feet.
“Excellent!” she exclaimed, breathing hard. “You adapt quickly.” His neck vice didn’t seem to bother her. He squeezed harder. She laughed and punched him in the gut so hard it knocked the wind out of him.
He let go and staggered about, bewildered with pain.
“Is this not glorious?” she asked, approaching swiftly.
“Uh... n-not really—” he started to reply.
She grabbed his head with both hands and delivered a knee to his face that sent him reeling, then followed up with a blizzard of kicks.
“Hiyah!” she cried, her thick, powerful thigh propelling a boot into his gut. Carried away with the excitement, her artificial blood flowing, she finished with a round house of punches that left Thrax’s face a bloody mess.
He sunk to the floor, semi-conscious. She waited a moment, smiling.
He didn’t move.
She paused.
“Magnum Thrax of Klenstaf, are you well?” she asked, growing concerned. “Peachy,” he blurted, blood and teeth popping out his mouth.
Darwin looked at them with concern. “I’ll have those regrown straight away. But it will hurt.”
“I already hurt,” replied Thrax. “I won’t even notice.” Andromeda cocked her head to the side. “Do you concede?” He nodded as vigorously as he could.
“Very well.” Disappointed, she straightened up and gave him the Amazon salute, slapping her clenched fist against her chest and then flinging her arm out. “May you fare better next time, for both our sakes.”
Thrax grunted. His jaw tingled.
Andromeda started back to her quarters. Stopped. Turned back. “Do you require medical assistance?”
He waved her concern away. “Nah, I’m good. Just gonna sit here for a bit.” She nodded and vanished into her quarters. The door swished shut behind her. Thank Hef, thought Thrax. That’s just too much woman.
“So much human interaction is based on establishing hierarchy and dominance,” said Darwin contemplatively. “A competitive mating system that slowly improves the species, it has little regard for your feelings on an individual level...”
A few minutes later, Candy walked in, followed by Blossom.
“Sable gave me some ideo-gum; chapter each. Crime and Punishment. Oh. My. Gawd. Best book bon bon ever, you should totally...” Blossom’s jaw dropped when she saw Thrax. “What the grok?”
“Oh, baby!” Candy exclaimed, rushing over. “You alright?”
He opened a bloated black eye. “Course. Why?”
Blossom frowned. “You do so look like shit. No duh.”
“What happened?” asked Candy. She touched the edge of his black eye gently. Thrax shrugged. Pointed at the great bronze doors. “Walked into those suckers.” Blossom was unconvinced. “Those are like, totally doors.”
“Oh, you poor baby. Help me get him up,” said Candy. The two struggled to get Thrax on his feet. “We’ll take him to my unit. Just up there. On the right.” Thrax stumbled his way between them, into a chamber with walls of pink fun fur. The bed was pink. The furniture was pink. Even her little designer dog, Max, was pink.
The canine barked indignantly at Thrax; then ran around his ankles yapping. Max didn’t like strange males in his home. The competition was unwelcome. Thanks to the FOXP2 gene, his yips had an eerily human sound.
“Like the colour scheme,” Thrax mumbled, half out of his mind. They plopped him down on the bed.
“Do you?” Candy beamed with pride. “I decorated it myself.” “Really.”
“Yeah, you know, I don’t think that was hard to guess,” said Blossom, unimpressed. Candy glanced at Blossom, then the door.
“Oh, fer...” said Blossom, taking the hint. “Fine. Gawd. Throw me way over. I have to... yeah, whatever. Feed my pet rock. See you, sugar tassel.” Blosoom stepped out into the hall.
****
“Let me get out my medkit,” blurted Candy, brightening. Better than having a new Barbie to dress, she thought. She opened a wall cabinet at the far end of the room. Partially obscured by a gaint pink rabbit, Thrax noted the inside contained a dark, bubbling tank, lit from below and surrounded by tubes pumping fluid. Inside, something loathsome and unspeakable shifted within the glowing lime green fluid. Push up bras, stockings, and panties were jammed in around it. One had fallen into the tank and was now encrusted with little white eggs. Atop the clothes rested a glossy white medkit with a pink pony badge on the front. She pulled it out and shut the cabinet. “You’ve multiple abrasions on your face. And I think your jaw may be dislocated.”
“No, it’s good.”
“Quiet, please. I am going to have to give you a thorough examination.” Candy began to fuss over him. She injected pain suppressants. Placed medpatches over the bruises, accelerating the healing process of his own internal medbots.
She took a look at his bloody mess of a mouth, gently suctioned out the blood and poured in a packet of Healit, a mixture of chemicals the nanites could use in their repair efforts. Her moves were precise, professional, economical. Inhuman.
She gave him a delicate kiss on the forehead.
“There. That should do it.”
He leaned back in bliss as the drugs kicked in. “Thank you, Candy.” Her face hovered before his.
“Give it a few minutes, you’ll feel like brand new.”
He smiled.
“Turn around now, lie down.”
The bed altered its shape to fit his body. She began to give him the most incredible massage.
“I’ve been studying erotic massage,” she said, her expert hands pressing against his back, just between pleasure and pain. “I’ve been practicing on Blossom, and she says I’m getting really good. The others now want massages, too. How does that feel?”
“Good,” replied Thrax, thoroughly doped up. She massaged him for what felt like a blissful eternity. “Better than good.”
“I’m glad,” she replied.
“I want to do great deeds, Candy,” he confided drowsily. “All I’ve ever wanted is to be in an epic adventure. Real Lord of the Rings type stuff. I want to save the world. Like the great heroes of old. Beowulf. King Arthur. Indiana Jones. Clint Eastwood. Abraham Lincoln. Especially Lincoln.”
“Who’s that?”
“Lincoln? He was President of the United States, eons ago, running the country and orating with big words and shit, but at night he was a kick ass vampire slayer. How do you even find time for that? Superhuman. You know? Run a country and then go out at night and stake vampires. That’s what I call a hero. Someone worthy of song.”
“Like My Little Pony? They sing. Went on adventures, too.” He nodded. “Yes. But more macho. Less pink.”
She giggled. “Good. Pink is my colour.”
“Mark my words. One day, I’m going to be worthy.”
“You already are in my books, Thrax.”
Ten wonderful, soothing minutes later, she turned him over.
“Saliva has healing properties, you know,” she said, her face hovering over his. Her big, wide eyes shifted focus between his left and right, searching, he thought, for his very soul.
Or some kind of deep shit like that.
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
And she was.
“You’re an angel. The Theory of Forms made all pink and fleshy. Hyper-real.”
She giggled and gave him a long passionate kiss, her tongue gliding lightly about his now unfrozen mouth. “It’s nice.”
“The world’s in danger,” he muttered.
The non-sequitor took her by surprise. “Huh?”
“That’s what he said. The android. The world is in danger.”
“Again? I remember it being in danger before. But you’ll save it,” she replied confidently. “You’re a really good shot. I have faith in you, Magnum.”
Thrax managed a laugh. “Glad someone does.”
“Can I tell you something?” she asked, a sly smile appearing on her chubby, cherubic face.
“Sure.”
She pressed her lips to his ear and breathed, “I want to have a baby.”
He chuckled.
Candy drew back, frowned. “That’s not nice. I thought you were nice.”
He shook his head. “No, look. I’m sorry. It’s just not possible. You’re an android. You don’t even have a womb.”
“I’m a living being. ‘Be humble for you are made of earth, be noble, for you are made of stars.’ That applies to me as much as you,” she said with more than a little defiance.
“Yeah, no. Not what I mean. You were designed. Manufactured for a specific, limited purpose. Child birth not being one of them.”
Candy threw up her hands in frustration. Thrax didn’t get it: “The Ancients changed everything, all the time. The code exists.” She straightened up and added with reverence: “The Great Net of Knowledge said so.”
That gave Thrax pause. “No shit?”
A grin. “No shit. I even found some.”
“Didn’t think you were a rocket science type.” Thrax wrapped his arms around her svelte waist and unzipped her slippery white plastic dress, releasing tension from soft, pert pink flesh.
That got Max yapping in a hyperventilating fury; he ran about in circles, always coming back to focus on Thrax, bellowing indignation in high falsetto.
Candy pushed Thrax’s arms away. “It’s biology, not rocket science.” Candy turned to the dog. “Shush Maxy.” She picked up the jealous dog up and putting him in the wall unit. The wall sealed up behind him, a semi-permeable membrane allowing the flow of air but not sound. “I don’t think he’ll take long.”
With an open palm motion, she made the door slide shut.
Coddled within a world of pink, they fucked like rabid, sex starved bunnies.
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