This sci-fi contains sex, between a male and a female, so you have
been warned. This is mine, and permission is given for archiving,
though please don't make any money from it. Any comments are welcome, and
encouraged at lordshon@aol.com.
Deadly Rides By Shon Richards
The road tasted like Beethoven, the air was as fresh as sand and my
Ferro 1800 was riding as smooth as sour. I dodged Laughing Boy, giving him
some machine gun fire to keep him honest, and gunned the accelerator
towards Black Moon. For some reason, the idiot dropped a mine. With my
Neural-Bike interface, the mine was as easy to dodge as blinking, and
required as much thought. Professionally losing respect for him because he
wasted weapon space by carrying a mine dropper, I gave him the full brunt
of my weapon payload. Machine guns, thought guided rockets and a totally
spazzing dose of flame-throwers were each independently guided targeted and
fired by my trained reflexes. Black Moon exploded into a multitude of
colors, and my enhanced senses interpreted the colors into vanilla. The
first lap of Russian DeathDance 2012 was completed, and I already had a
kill on my scorecard. Life was good.
Coming around the next corner, I checked in with Control and discovered
I was in second place already. My KillFactor was competitive, but I would
have to increase my rate of murder if I wanted the fifty-thousand bonus.
That could be arranged: I crouched lower on my bike and thought evil
thoughts. I gripped the handlebars for support, even though my mind was
doing all the driving. The fans love it when the riders look like they
actually have to drive, it helps to maintain the illusion of style
motorcycle thugs. That's why I've been voted most popular DeathDancer two
months in a row, I have always have my finger on the pulse of the crowd.
My next target was in sight, and I had to stop myself from blowing her
away. It was BadAss Medea, and I was a second away from sending a
thought guided missile up her pretty ass. She wove in front of me, keeping
me from passing and secure in the knowledge that I wouldn't break our
truce. My imagination supplied me with the crowd's disappointed groans as I
missed three perfectly good shots. They can smeg off, Blade always honors
his agreements, no matter how fucked up they are in retrospect. Safely in
second place, I resorted to good driving as I tried to pass her.
Calming myself down so I could focus on my resources on my driving, my
thoughts lingered back to yesterday...
The seclusion of a DeathDancer is sacred. You have no idea what crazy
or illegal business a DeathDancer could be up to, especially since the
Russian government pretty much turns a blind eye to their entertainers.
That was why I was completely pissed when my manager brought in one of my
competitors to my locker. Not just any competitor, it was BadAss Medea,
the top killer this season!
"Are you drekking nuts?" I yelled at Trusty Vlad. "What the smeg is
BadAss Medea doing her?" I quickly closed my tune up case, I was in the
middle of fine tuning my eyes when the asshole came in.
"Blade, my friend," Trusty Vlad said, his usual fake friendliness
sounding like purple to my ears. "Medea's a big fan of yours, and wanted
to have a friendly chat before tomorrow's race. I don't think that's too
unusual a request?"
I punched Vlad, hard. His cyber face could handle it, and it made me
feel better. "Get out of her Vlad and spend the money she bribed you
with."
As Vlad left, I pointed Jocasta out to Medea.
"Before you try anything, I just want you to know that Jocasta is a
certified level six cyberguard. She's only thirty percent human, and could
rip your arms apart in less than six seconds. Now, if you want to die a
day early, just go ahead and try something."
I have to give BadAss credit, she wasn't fazed. She just stood there,
all six feet of her muscled body. A black bodysuit covered her body,
though there was a moving patch of transparency that seemed to just avoid
the good parts. Her shoulder length curly black hair framed her face like
a shroud, and her smile was one of pure contempt. BadAss Medea was as sexy
as three bike explosion, though it didn't take enhanced senses to tell she
wasn't a fan.
"Don't worry Blade, I wouldn't assassinate anyone who had such a weak
imagination as to pick 'Blade' as their call sign. What was the matter,
was 'Ace' already taken?" Medea stepped up to Jocasta, and actually had the
steel exhaust pipes to straighten her collar!
"My mistake," I said as I walked up to her. I did that to avoid looking
at the transparency moving across her ass, but the body language of looming
over her wasn't a bad thing to do either. "I didn't know you were here to
trash talk, I wouldn't figure you for the type to cover your fear with
insults."
Medea turned around, and I could see Jocasta snarling over her shoulder.
I do love my cyberguard, as loyal as a and much better to fuck than
anything on the market. Jocasta was just waiting for me to give her
permission to kill Medea, but I wasn't interested in trouble. The Russians
hate it when you kill someone off camera.
"I'll use simple words so your defunct cybersenses can understand me,"
Medea said as her roving transparency settled on her cleavage. Damn, was
it thought controlled? "Out of all the other contestants, you are the one
with the highest KillFactor per speed ratio. You and me are heads above
the other DeathDancers, and the only real challenges to each other. The
other DeathDancers know this, and they'll be sure to gang up on us. I came
here to offer you a longer life, let's agree not to kill each other, and
we'll let who ever can race the fastest win tomorrow."
"That's so nice of you to think of me in your time of danger, but no
thanks," I answered. Her black eyes flashed, but I held my ground. "If
people do gang up on me, then my ratings will go up the more attacks I
survive. I doubt any of them could lay a hand on me, so there really is no
threat there. I've also seen you race, and I don't think I could out ride
you, you're just too damn good. I think I'll have a better chance of
winning if I don't take you off my target list."
"You arrogant crotch rider," Medea said, rather calmly I thought. "Do
you really think you can survive FaceRipper and Tree Killer if they
gangbang you? What about Bumblebee Bonnie? She nearly scragged your ass
last week, tomorrow she'll have help. Add me to the mix, and you can
guarantee I'll be gunning for you, and it appears to me that you'll be
decorating the underside of my wheels."
Jocasta growled, but I waved her off. Medea had a way with words, but I
still wasn't convinced.
"Even if we did agree to a truce, the Russians would have a fit. This
is their biggest paying event and they are going to want to see blood.
They don't treat us like minor royalty just to run around a track."
"There isn't a single rule that says a DeathDancer HAS to kill another
DeathDancer. However, I have already bribed one judge who is willing to
testify that since we are so evenly matched, that we probably didn't fire
on each other because we were willing to settle for second rather than risk
death. With his testimony, and if we avoid each other after the race, I'm
sure no one will raise any questions or protests. Fuck, people work
together to kill other racers all the time, why the fuck can't we work
together NOT to kill somebody."
"I'll tell you why," I answered, her machine oil perfume tasting like
Madonna in my nose. "Because you don't need a rulebook to blacklist
somebody. If we don't entertain the sick smegs who pay to watch us fight,
then the promoters will simply dump us from their lineup. That means no
more money, no more nice accommodations and forget about going home,
because the United States revoked our citizenships as soon we competed in
our first DeathDance."
"Damn," I said quietly. "I like your idea, but there is too much at
stake to risk all this. Offering me a safe race doesn't make up for the
risk of losing a cushy lifestyle. You'll have to offer me more than that
to make me agree."
She toyed with the top of her bodysuit. "I guess a fuck is in order?"
"Dream on, BadAss," I said as her transparency moved to her smooth
belly. "I get plenty of action from the groupies and Jocasta here. You're
not bad for a DeathDancer skank, but your ass isn't enough to make me loose
my status in the DeathDance."
"Tell me Stud-Dud, have you ever fucked someone who was as enhanced as
you are?" Medea asked as she touched my arm with pinpoint lightness. "I've
got a Xeric 3288 processor, double redundant wire reflexes and a second
generation Thigh Gripper for those really tight turns. Tell me you've
never wanted to slam chassis with someone who can taste the same sounds you
could?"
"Jocasta stays, I still don't trust you completely," I said after a long
pause. A long pause is about two seconds, enough time to think through
thirty scenarios, and enough time to enjoy twenty-two of them.
"What ever shoots your rockets," Medea said as she grabbed my shirt.
She pulled me into a kiss, and her mouth reminded me of her racing, hard,
fast and breathless. Our tongues clashed inside our mouths, fighting for
dominance even in the act of kissing.
My hands reached around and grabbed her buttocks. You race behind
someone long enough and you find yourself speculating on how their buttocks
would feel up close. Grabbing them was like holding a harsh scream, and
there was a crescendo every time I squeezed. The bodysuit must have been
monomolecular, because there was no loss of sensation as I pressed her to
me.
Medea broke out of my grip, pushing me down to my chair. I was
disturbed that she was stronger than I, though strength never seems to be
an issue in the DeathDance. Kneeling in front of me, Medea dug her hands
into my pants and ripped them apart in 1.2 seconds. While I was still
impressed, Medea held my cock in her hands, studying me with slitted black
eyes.
"That's a surprise," she said as she took a lick of my cock. "As large
as your bike is, I would have thought your cock would be pretty small."
Not one to take an insult even while shuddering, I snapped back "That's
funny, as butch as you are, I wouldn't have thought you could suck cock."
She stroked my cock without saying a word, though her cheeks did flush a
brilliant shade of strawberry. Her lips were adorned with black lipstick,
and they quickly surrounded my pointing cock. Her tongue reached five
hundred revolutions a minute yet never once came close to giving me
friction burn. I placed my hands in her hair, feeling the mint texture
under my fingers as she at my groin. She was regulating her
breathing as she buried her nose in my pubic hair and managed to get all of
me down her throat.
"Oh yes," I moaned, "there are definitely advantages to having an
enhanced lover."
Jocasta stood her vigil across from us, her blue eyes never betraying
any emotion. It was odd to have my part time lover watching me like that,
I idly wondered if she had any objections. Does a cyberguard have emotions
like jealousy or betrayal? I didn't know, and as Medea's tongue lapped at
the base of my cock, I decided I didn't care. The only thoughts I had for
Jocasta at that point was I wondered what her view of Medea's ass looked
like.
Medea stood up in front of me, the memory of her mouth still fresh on my
cock. Reaching for an invisible clasp at the top of her suit, I laughed as
the bodysuit simply vanished. There she was, as nude as the day she came
out of the cyberhospital. Six feet of muscled power and deadly
coordination, with only a little strip of fur down by her sex.
"A holographic suit? What will they think of next?" I said dumbly.
Most of my cognitive power was going towards preventing my from
occurring too fast, I didn't have time to access my witty remarks folder.
Anyway, while Medea was standing there, I decided to take advantage of
her offer. I slid off the chair and dropped to my knees in front of her
admittedly gorgeous body. Her sex wafted to me, smelling like the
smoothness of silk, and I found it very erotic. I approached her sex on my
knees, and reached around to once more hold on to her lovely ass. With her
sex before me, I feasted on her nether region. My tongue delved in her
treasure, my lips melding with her lips. The tastes of silk, cotton and
satin rolled into my mouth, and I drank her juices deeply with my questing
tongue. The clit provided me with a soothing texture, and I rolled it in
my tongue like glass. I felt her fingers claw at my shoulders, and I
turned off my pain receptors as her fingernails drew blood.
Finally having someone who could appreciate my abilities, I felt free to
experiment. Medea whimpered beautifully as my tongue lashed at her sex
with barely feather light strokes. I had to hold on to her hips when she
thrashed at my tongue delicately darting at individual centimeters of her
inner sex. My tongue reached a speed of sixty licks a seconds, and I knew
Medea was aware of each one. When she orgasmed under my tongue, her juices
tasted like a trumpet's blast, and her moans sounded like chocolate cream.
When her buttocks had quit shivering under my hands, Medea dropped
lazily to the floor beside me. Her six foot body did a perfect slow motion
collapse, her muscles making the fall last as long as possible so I could
enjoy the show. BadAss Medea had an uncharacteristic smile on her face as
she placed my hand on her breasts. It's amazing how good sex can take the
edge off of even the most cold blooded killer.
Touching her was what I had expected. They were beautiful,
round, buoyant, and very artificial. That's ok, my chest was bio-sculpted
too. I could tell that she paid the extra money for the soft gel implants,
as her gave little resistance when I dug my fingers into them. Her
nipples were erect and easy prey for my flicking tongue. Holding her
nipples between two fingers, I alternated back and forth between her
abundant spheres. It's almost sad, no matter how advanced our technology
gets, I'm still a sucker for a large pair of tits. Medea endured my
obsession with her easily, allowing me to get my fill of her
expensive surgery.
"Enough of that, leave something for the fans to admire," Medea said as
she pulled me down on top of her. I willingly complied. Medea was on her
back with her long legs spread in the air, inviting me to do what so many
fans have long masturbated about. There was no need to guide my cock;
superior muscle control kept it still as I pushed into Medea's lovely
vault. I mounted her with supreme satisfaction while her legs and arms
wrapped tightly around me.
The power of her hips rising to meet me was awesome, kind of like riding
my bike over speed bumps at ninety miles an hour. It was a good thing both
of us had thigh armor, or else we might of ended each other's careers that
night. Confident that we both could handle it, we each let loose with our
passion. Medea crushed her legs around my hips, kicking me with her heels
to go deeper into her. I, however, was holding myself above her by
standing my hands on her breasts. Her soft buoyancy under my fingers would
shift would each thrust, and I enjoyed touching first hand my effect on her
body. There was a feeling of mutual abuse between me and Medea, but that
was to be expected. You can't expect two people who often fire missiles at
each other to put aside their differences just because we were getting our
turbos off.
Medea kicked me harder with her heels, and her sex clenched me tighter.
I could read her face and skin temperature as she orgasmed, the pleasure
rippling across her body as I shifted to faster thrusts. Medea's mouth
opened wider with each thrust until finally, her head tilted back and she
emitted a low frequency growl of pure elation. Under my fingers I could
feel her speeding heart underneath her massive breasts. I released my self
control, her sex was contracting and rippling with her orgasm, and I let my
cock enjoy those sensations to the full. My own orgasm ignited, and the
thrill was almost greater than when I won the DeathDance Christmas Special.
Almost...
My mind replayed that hedonistic night in the span of half a second
while I trailed behind BadAss. Vlad was screaming in my earpiece, and I
tuned his protests out. Medea and I navigated the jumps easily, though she
still stayed ahead of me. For a moment, while we were in the air, I was
tempted to launch an attack. What bothers me is that I held back not
because of our truce, but because I didn't want to imagine those dark eyes
of hers widening in shock. Smeg! I had fallen for the BadAss, mean
attitude and all.
My loverboy mentality was blown away, literally. Yojimbo was meters
behind me and he was raining his shuriken catapult at me. I took a few
hits in the back, and I felt my tire reseal from a puncture. My rear
machine guns almost got a bead on him, but then TreeKiller entered the
fray. His multi-laser burned me bad, and I lost one of my on board
targeters. I was just grateful that all my attacks were from behind, I
didn't stand a chance if Medea was against me.
Up ahead, Medea's bike slowed down, and my skin felt the unmistakable
tingle of a targeting system locking on to me. Three missiles came pouring
out of her backside, their deadly exhaust roaring like onions in my ears. I
curse Medea for her betrayal, calling her a slut, a cyberdip, whore, a
missile skank, a bitch, a fanfucker and smeghead. I was too pinned down by
rear fire to dodge, and I steeled my body for the impact.
My surprise was intense when the missiles deftly missed me, but I
overcame it quickly. Watching Treekiller skid out of control and smash
into the razor wire, the smoke of the missiles still burning on his bike
like sherbet, I decelerated like a cheap borg. Yojimbo was still trying to
compensate for the blast of Medea's missiles, and didn't notice me till I
was parallel with him. standing on my pedals, I lashed out a kick with my
right leg, and his head flew from my perfect strike. His headless body
drove straight into the safety wall, and I let out a warcry at my
unexpected survival.
BadAss Medea won the race, with me a close second. The other
DeathDancers kept a respectful distance after the deaths of Yojimbo and
TreeKiller, I'm sure they didn't know what the smeg was going on, and they
weren't willing to find out. The crowd gave us a half hearted cheer as we
crossed the finish line, and I hoped Medea bribed her judge well.
"You have abused the spirit of the DeathDance with your behavior," the
Supreme Judge spat at us. Medea's judge wasn't present, and there was no
explanation offered for his absence. Vlad was there, but seeing my manager
on his knees didn't give me any confidence. We were royally fucked.
"Chill Supreme Judge, it's just part of our new merchandising campaign,"
I said. The Supreme Judge's anger was visible on three different
spectrums, but I wasn't worried. I grabbed Medea around the waist and
pulled her close to me.
"You're looking at the first DeathDancer Love Team!" I said as I grabbed
Medea's ass. Her elbow in my stomach didn't stop my pitch. "Not only do
we race together, working together as a team, but we also plan to have a
full line of posters, T-shirts, marital aids and maybe even a few videos.
The crowd loves a love story, and we'll give them one they haven't seen
before with the usual DeathDance eye to marketing."
Even Vlad was quiet after that speech. The Supreme Judge recovered
first.
"We'll demand sixty percent of sales, and your wedding has to be before
DeathDance WinterCarnage," The Supreme Judge commanded.
Vlad recovered next, "The honeymoon can be televised on pay-for-view if
you grant us the right to double license the two to their sponsors."
"Honeymoon? Martial aids? A smeging wedding?!" Medea screamed, and I
kept a perfect smile as I dragged her out of there.
"Sorry BadAss, but it looks like we have to get if we're going
to keep racing," I said as I dodged a jab from her.
"Asshole!" she said as she grabbed my hair and pulled me for a kiss. "I
knew fucking you would be a mistake. You're already scheming for seconds."
"Yeah, but now you'll get paid for it," I said as I returned the kiss.
The End.
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