A Dirty TASK Needs Doing Pt. 01

My breasts were left bare, untended by hands or mouth, and that was itself a delicious torment, as the spittle that Tabby had left gleaming on my nipples started to cool, like sweat, drying and leaving me aching for more.

But I forced myself to look left. Even with all this sensory excess, part of my brain still...wanted too...

"Holy shit, you miniaturized the fuck out of that power pack!" I said, my eyes wide.

Tabby drew her mouth back, chuckling. "Still haven't solved the waste heat problem."

"Well, maybe we could add more D9 Ought five to the coolant units?" Alex suggested as he started to grind his cock between the cleft of my ass cheeks. His member was just as impressive as mine. Definite S-gene level dick. My shiver was all delight, all eagerness, no fear. No fear at all.

The two techs who were working on the laser pistol glanced at us. One of them coughed and said, his voice only faintly muffled by his work mask: "Hey, Ted, maybe we should add some D9.5 to the coolant unit?"

Ted sighed. "Jesus Christ, Mark..." he shook his head. "If you pretend that they don't exist, it just encourages-"

Tabby slurped my entire dick into her throat. My entire dick. One smooth motion, without a hitch, pause, gag, or even pause. My member filled her throat, making it bulge slightly as her lips pressed to the smoothness of my pubic region. Her hands fondled my balls as she looked up at me with a warm, eager expression. Alex, meanwhile, had slotted his cock against my ass. He felt lubed from tip to balls, but I had no idea where it had come from and I honestly didn't care. I screamed as he thrust into me, filling my ass for the first time in my life. Like Tabby, there was no hesitation. Like Tabby, it felt fucking divine.

"-them..." Ted finished. "Come on."

The two baselines did their work as Alex took control of the speed and movement of our fucking. His thrust would rock my hips forward, which would push my cock back into Tabby's willing throat. But as we fucked and sucked, we kept up running conversations. I was able to see the pistol pretty clearly, and I gasped out: "Ah! Hair trigger, guys! It's a gun for agents, not sport shooting!"

"Don't forget the gene lock!"

Even Tabby took a moment away from gobbling my dick to pull back and just pump her cock along my shaft. She gasped, her lips glazed with her own eager spit and my pre-cum. Her eyes were hooded, but her voice was sure: "I think maybe a secondary override for the power cell would help with the feedback issue you're having."

Then she went right back to slurping.

In the end, I couldn't last. I had once prided myself on fucking an entire cheerleader squad in nearly one, unbroken string, because I had been bored. But baseline girls didn't fuck back, or suck, with the kind of skill Alex and Tabby were unleashing. Every thrust that Alex pounded into me was perfectly timed and positioned to send shooting pleasure from spine to brain. His hands cupped my breasts and squeezed as he licked and nuzzled and nibbled in exactly the right places. Meanwhile, Tabby was doing things with her tongue that could have tied cherry stems together by the dozen. She slipped it along my foreskin, teased my glans, even tickled the tiny slit at the very tip...

I grabbed onto her hair, thrust in deep, and spent myself in a single white hot explosion. My balls almost pulled into my body with the strength of my climax. I shuddered and groaned, my jaw hanging open as I ducked my head forward. "Fu...fhu...fuck...fuck, fuck, fuck..." I hissed. "Fucking fuck."

Tabby, to her credit, drank at least half of the cum down before it started to spurt around her lips. It dripped down her chin, even came from her nose, her eyes rolling back into her head as her own brain-ripping climax shot through her. Her thighs glistened and a small puddle of her cunt-juice flowed onto the ground as she writhed. At the same time, I felt a warm rush filling my ass. It was so intense that I almost came again - instead, my body just suspended my brain in that orgasmic bliss. I floated there, trembling...

And then Alex slipped out of me. Cum dripped from my well fucked ass, soaking my balls, my thighs. Dripping. Joining the puddle Tabby had left.

Gasping, Tabby wiped at her face with the back of her head. "Ugh...next time, cum on my face, Kimmy!"

"Sorry," I said, grinning dazedly.

"Ugh, gah..." Tabby grabbed a hankie off the countertop. "Ew, gross, it's coming out of my nose." She groaned. "It's like snorting milk, if the milk was full of salt. Ugh."

I wobbled. Somehow, I didn't quite manage to feel guilty.

Alex slapped my butt. "Shall we continue the tour?"

***

"And this is your support staff," Alex said, cheerfully.

The baseline girl sprawled on the bed grunted in response without looking at me as she fiddled with the Nintendo Switch she had held above her head. I heard the quiet gasps and shouts of Link swinging his sword. The girl was fucking fine. She had orange-red hair, cropped short to her head in a jagged, fierce pattern, while her belly was flat and taut and covered with muscle. She looked like a spring, loaded and ready to fire out into the air, but her TASK jumpsuit was mostly shucked off, leaving her in the leggings and the tank-top, which hung loose around her mostly flat chest. She was also all fucking attitude and I wanted my dick in her. Like. Yesterday.

"Hello!" the other girl who spoke up was as different from the first as it was possible to be. Where Orange Hair McAttitude was skinny, Nice Cushgirl was all curves, with plump titties the size my head and enough belly to use as a pillow without actually making her fat, per-say. She had long black hair and thick glasses that perched on a tiny, adorable button nose. Her face was rounded and her eyes bespoke her Asian heritage, but I couldn't quite place an accent beyond Chicago in her voice. She held out her hand to me.

"Woods. Kimberly Woods," I said.

"I'm Marcy Thubold Horton Doomslaughter Fong," she said.

I blinked. "Did you say...Doomslaughter?"

Marcy chuckled. "Mom married an S-gene girl named Dr. Doomslaughter. It didn't last, but they never could decide which last name to have, so they just were the Doomslaughter-Fong's until the divorce."

"Dr. Doomslaughter is a theta level threat," Alex said. "We have her in the hotbox for a plan involving making deadly nerotoxin using some kind of exotic orchid, right?"

Marcy shrugged. If she had issues about her Mom...or...Dad? Dadmom? Futadad? Fudad! being a supercriminal, she hid them pretty well under all her cheerful bubbliness. "I think it was something like that. I haven't visited her in a few weeks, but she was saying that she was planning to escape."

"She probably will..." Alex muttered. "I'll have to check and make sure the new security routines are going in."

"Uh, so, I don't mean to be rude..." I said.

"You're wondering why we're not big dicked girl freaks?" Orange Hair McAttitude asked, tapping a few buttons. I could hear a loud swish and thunk and a scream of a dying enemy from her Switch.

"Well, yeah, but I was going to drop the word freak. So prejudicial," I said, smirking. "I prefer aberrations against God and Jesus."

"Disgusting mutants?" McAttitude suggested.

"Perversions of Nature!" I said, beaming.

"Total fuckin hobags..." McAttitude muttered under her breath.

"Amanda O'Neill is our finest pilot," Alex said, kicking the bed roughly as he looked at me, his voice firm. "And the reason why O'Neill and Fong are both baselines is simple: There are only ten S-Genes in the whole of TASK, and roughly a hundred around the world. A few are snapped up by local governments, lots go independent. Of those that go independent, most try and take over the world once they get too bored manipulating the stock market or seeing how many wives of the rich and powerful they can fuck." He sighed. "So, we don't have enough S-genes to have your support staff also be S-genes. Besides..." He smiled. "Don't ever get cocky. A good baseline can beat an S-gene."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Think of it like this," Alex said. "An S-gene is unique because of a combination of intelligence and physicality. But while you're better at everything, you're not the best at everything. So, if a baseline is one of those baselines who is world-class at their thing, whether that thing is chess or martial arts or piloting, they'll kick your ass."

I snorted. "I fucking doubt it."

Amanda chuckled. "Oh. Oh, oh, oh!" She hopped to her feet, tossing her switch casually aside. Marcy scrambled to catch it before it hit the ground and shattered. "You wanna go, thick dick?" She asked, glaring at me. I stepped closer to her, smirking.

"Just saying, I don't want a pilot whose not as good at me," I purred.

"I got fifty combat kills!" She smirked. "Fifty. And I'm only nineteen!"

I scoffed. "I took down a school shooter with a ballpoint pen. A pen I turned into a grenade."

"I've been flying jets since I was fourteen!" Amanda growled back, clenching her fist.

"How long since you stopped crashing them, then?" I asked, making a guess from the way she was getting turbo defensive.

"That only happened five times!" She shouted back.

"Ladies!" Alex said, his voice rebuking. Then he gestured. "Continue!" He stepped backwards, looking as if he was counting the seconds until we were fucking on the bed. I looked back from him to Amanda, who was smirking.

"Lets settle this like jocks," she said. "Flight sim, full immersion force feedback, in ten minutes."

"What do we fly?" I asked.

"Whatever you fucking want," she said.

I rubbed my chin. Then I smirked. "Fine. I know exactly what I want to fly."

Amanda looked cocky.

"Sopwith. Cammel."

Amanda jerked back as if I had slapped her in her face.

Then she grinned, fiercely.

"You're on thick dick."

***

I thumbed through the flight manual that Tabby had gotten me, my finger flicking the pages. My eyes zipped past the words at the fastest I could go. I had a pretty good speed reading skill, but there were lots of diagrams I had to commit to memories. As I read, Tabby affixed the feedback helmet to my head.

"Are you sure this is wise, Kimmy?" she asked

"Yeah!" I said, nodding. "How can I work with someone who is a total C-bag?"

"I mean..." Tabby bit her lip. "You can be a bit arrogant too."

"Yeah, but I'm allowed to be arrogant. I'm apparently a freaking super-spy," I said, shrugging. "Besides, holy shit, you have full force feedback simulation VR tech! That's rad. I'd have wanted to try this even if Amanda was as cuddly as Marcy is."

"Right..." Tabby stepped back.

I was dressed in a skintight black outfit covered with tiny plugs and sockets that ran along my back and my shoulders. My cock bulged against the fabric, perfectly outlined. It was weirdly comfortable, honestly. I looked down at my breasts, which fitted the outfit as if it was painted, not just tight. Tabby walked around me, rubbing her chin.

"You look good," she said.

"Yeah!" I grinned. "And hows the VR gear?"

"It's good too," she said, smiling. "Just...be careful. Dying in VR won't kill you or hurt you or anything. But it can be totally jarring and kind of nauseating. Sometimes, it can make people upchuck!"

I smirked. "Hey. Just get the vomit bag ready...for O'Neill."

Tabby looked worried.

The VR chair itself was actually a sphere of plastic that was suspended above a circular pit of pale white light. It faced across from another, identical sphere. I could see Amanda, looking so freaking cocky as she swaggered into the VR room, flanked by two of her friends. She wore her gear as good as me, but she didn't glance my way as she walked to the VR sphere and swung herself into it. But I couldn't take my eyes off her. Like, Jesus, why are women so freaking pretty?

Tabby slapped my butt. "Get in, you doofus."

I rubbed my butt, then grabbed onto the swinging arm that let people slide into the VR chair. Once I was settled in, small tubes connected to the sockets and the chair swung shut, then slipped down. My head buzzed and my vision faded...and then came back into focus. I was seated in a leather contraption - a thing of wood and canvas and bits of metal. It was a Sopwith Camel, one of the British fighting planes of World War One. I quickly checked the controls, making sure that I had it all. Then I noticed I was wearing thick flight leather, complete with a scarf and goggles. Like I was Snoopy!

The plane was set out on a dirt track that might have been a runaway if it had been given five, six years of hard labor and plenty of concrete. A man stood beside my prop, dressed in field gray. He grinned and gave me a thumbs up, then swung the prop. I quickly jabbed out with my thumb and the propeller roared to life, the engine spitting and coughing. The plane started to jounce forward as I tried to remember everything the manual had said.

I tugged back...

And the Camel leaped.

And crashed back down. The wheels jarred and I clicked my teeth together. But we were still gaining speed and when I tugged back, the wings caught and soared upwards - shooting into the heavens. Soaring through the sky in my own little biplane, I took a bit to marvel at how real this felt. Biting cold? Check. Deep, slashing wind? Check! The suffocating feel of the scarf around my lips? Checkety check. The fact that if I pulled back too hard on the stick, I'd smash my ladybulge into it? Uh. Check. And noted for later.

A sudden roaring sound filled my ears. Instincts surged through me and I jerked and yanked back on the stick and clocked myself right into the girl nuts. My eyes bulged behind my goggles, but I took the shocking, shocking pain that having a pair of big fat balls smacked by a chunk of wood and metal had over being shot down in the first few seconds of the match. Amanda's plane shot past me, painted with bright red circles on her wings. She looped under my wing's belly, then shot away, waggling her wings playfully.

I scowled and forced my pain aside, gasping heavily as I swung my Camel around. The propeller groaned and the wings shuddered and jerked and I realized I was banking too hard. I slowed down - but it was okay, I had gotten on her ass. Amanda waggled her wings again and I grinned.

"Fine, lets see how cock you are now," I hissed.

I jerked back on the machine gun trigger. The machine guns didn't make the brrrapt roar that they would in a modern plane. Instead, they went more like chugga chugga chugga as the bullets zipped through gaps in the propellers. Don't ask me why they didn't just put the guns on the wings, cause I sure as fuck didn't know. But the bullets had thick glowing tracers mixed with the shooty shooty kill kill ones, and those let me see where I was shooting. Amanda banked left, then right, then left, then right as I hosed down the area she was in, scowling slightly.

This...was not as easy as it looked while reading. But I was getting closer and closer with every-

A sudden, billowing white fog of complete invisibility whumped around me. I blinked, looking around, and realized that Amanda had flown directly into a cloud bank, one that had been way closer. I strained my ears, trying to hear the roar of her engines. But the wind, the cloud, my own engines, all of it seemed distant and muted. I scowled.

Then my plane burst from the other side of the cloud bank.

No Amanda.

Immediately, I craned my head upwards, looking for her. There she was, soaring down at me from out of the sun, her plane rattling - not just canvas in the wind, but with the chugga chugga chugga of machine guns. I put my plane into a tumbling, spinning dive, careful to not smash my own nuts again as I gritted my teeth and yanked back hard. The plane heeled and whirred around - and then the engine guttered and died, flaming out as I deprived it of oxygen. This turned my plane into a heavy kite, but also screwed up Amanda's guess on where I was going. Her shower of machine gun bullets stopped zipping past me and started to fill the air ahead of me.

I pulled the trigger and started to tip the plane forward again as fast as I could. A spray of machine gun fire intersected with Amanda where she shot past. Then I was falling and focusing only on trying to get the engine to restart. Which it did, thank god. It roared and growled, and then we were flying again. Save for the fact that my rudder wasn't working so good anymore. I looked back and saw that a few bullets had shot away a chunk of my tail. Fuck.

But as Amanda swung away, I saw she was trailing smoke.

I laughed.

"Yes! Gotacha, bitch!"

But then Amanda pulled her own plane around in a twisting arc that made my eyes boggle. She swept, banked, then came right at me. Her machine guns flared. I jerked on the yoke, but the rudder wouldn't respond. Bullets made loud chump noises as they tore through the canvas. I tensed, but none of them tore through me. Then Amanda was banking to the side. Smoke poured from my engine as I grabbed the strap and undid the buckle.

I timed it just so.

Her plane shot past as I leaped out of me. My arms grabbed onto the edge of her wing and I dug my fingers in. My shoulders screamed and my legs were dragged out behind me, but I clung on and clung on hard. Amanda's plane canted to the side with the unexpected weight as she looked at me. Even behind her goggles, her eyes were wide. Behind us, my plane spun, burned, and exploded as it hit the ground.

I grinned.

Amanda might be the better pilot.

But I was the goddamn S-gene.

Amanda looked back forward, then hit the accelerator. The plane, still going pokey slow by modern standards, hummed and roared forward as she banked down towards the vast green carpet of grass that we were flying over. Soon, we were skimming low towards some of the bits of scenery the VR simulation had - some barns. As she shot towards them, I shouted over the wind.

"What are you doing!?"

"Showing off!" Amanda shouted. "Lets see who blinks first, thick diiiiiiiiick!"

The barns had been small a few seconds ago. They were getting awfully big. Every instinct in me screamed that we were going to hit them. I squeaked, then threw myself backwards, tucking and rolling. I hit the grass, tumbling and rolling and rolling, then coming to a stop. And as I pushed myself up, groaning, my whole body feeling like one big bruise, Amanda was...soaring up, shooting away. She had threaded through the open barn doors like a string through a needle, or my tongue seeking a girl's G-spot. She wheeled away, waggling her wings the whole time.

I tugged off my flight goggles, and laughed.

When the VR door opened, Amanda and I both staggered out. But neither of us upchucked. People did cheer and slap Amanda on her back, but she pushed them away, walked over to me.

"You put a machine gun round into my engine," she said, grinning slightly. "While falling backwards and when I was diving at almost a hundred miles an hour. And you've never even flown a plane in your life."

I shrugged. "I still can't drive."

Amanda snorted, then punched my shoulder. I grabbed her hand, grinning at her. My cock was achingly hard. I was about five seconds away from just...throwing her down on the floor and fucking her brains out - and I could see she was super down for that from the way her nostrils flared, her breath caught, her nipples hardened against her VR suit.