MAN IN A BOTTLE
By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
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Grevor 318 thumbed the communicator button in his hyperjet. "Prometheus, this is Tango Seven returning to base. Over."
"Tango Seven, this is Promethus. Identify." came the reply.
"Authentication Four Niner Charley Foxtrot." Grevor 318 gave the call signal he'd been assigned as he had left on his flight. Forgetting your authentication code wasn't a death sentence (not in peacetime like this) but you had better have a good reason why you forgot it when you went up before the Commandant!
"Authentication confirmed. Welcome home, Tango Seven."
"Roger. Over and out."
What had been only a bright star in the star-splashed heavens began to resolve into a blob, a shape, a form, a spaceship, a large spaceship, a floating, flying fortress. Not too far behind it and off to one side was the enormous gas giant known at Colossus, it was the sixth planet in this system. The fourth planet, New France, was on the other side of the solar system at the moment. Not that he had any leave coming up, had it been within easy shuttle range. Another six weeks for that. Until then, it was the steel decks and steel walls of the Prometheus.
Grevor sighed. He didn't want the war with the Nebograbs to start up again, but it would have made life a lot more interesting in the Federation Starforce. As it was, he had to fly just to maintain his combat readiness, and content himself with shooting dummy targets and the occasional unlucky asteroid or comet fragment, and waiting with what grace he could for his next shore leave, when he could feel real earth beneath his feet again, breath air which hadn't been recycled through everyone else's lungs and bowels a hundred times over, and food which hadn't been shrunken to the size of a stingy-sized candy-bar a half hour before he ate it.
He needed some real recreation, damn it! When would the next resupply ship come along?
He docked his ship and made it outbound into the spinning part of the Prometheus, the spin giving the ship's content gravity in a dizzying sort of way. Coriolis effects weren't any fun, but you got used to them, enough that your first day back on a planetary surface, you could be identified by your "spaceman's wobble" as you readjusted to gravity that didn't come from being spun in a circle around and around, with your head a fractional hundredth lighter than it should be in relation to your feet. Sometimes, Grevor wished he had been assigned to a smaller ship, one that didn't spin, he would have had to put in hours on an exercise machine to keep his bones from losing calcium, but at least he wouldn't have this niggling urge to go "whee!"
Kemon 1427 smiled at him when he entered the locker room to divest himself of his non-grav suit. Yanking the catheter out of his dick was a sheer relief, if a bit sticky. Some precome, courtesy of more than a few errant thoughts on his long trip, dribbled out in a gray sticky blob that swung about as it reached for the deck.
"Bet you'll be glad to get that mother exercised!" Kemon opined as he regarded Grevor's prick with unabashed admiration. Grevor was used to being checked out, he swung a fair-sized piece of meat between his legs.
"Yeah, it gets to feeling neglected on these practice runs." Grevor agreed. Three days without a bit of "hand-gibberish" (to use the latest slang term) could make a fellow feel a bit...anxious. "I'll take care of it when I hit the showers, I guess."
"Well, you could do that." Kemon said a bit too solicitously.
"Huh?" Grevor said. Kemon knew better than to sexually proposition a fellow crewman, even one he knew was also gay. Relationships had sent more than one ship (all of them with much smaller crews than the massive Prometheus, naturally) into ruination borne from jealousy or rage from spurned affection. The Starforce rule was expressed in the cynical phrase. "You can fuck anybody or anything but your fellow crewmembers and the atomic pile." The grin on Kemon's face, though, wasn't one of sexual invitation. It was of secret knowledge. "Okay, what is it?"
"What's what?" Kemon said innocently. "You were about to go whack it in the shower. Go ahead, I'm sure there's one available now."
Grevor advanced with (false) menace on his fellow star-pilot. "You either talk or I beat it out of you." he growled.
"Talk about what?" Kemon said with that same air of naivete. "Maybe like what we got a supply of from the ship that docked here yesterday, maybe?"
Now that was interesting. Especially if... "They didn't?"
"They did." Kemon affirmed.
"How many?" Grevor wanted to know. "Does the Commandant know?"
"He knows." Kemon said. "Ordered them to bring them out, in fact, they say." The old "they say" was as reliable in the 30th Century as it had been a millenia before, that is, subject to the source and the information and the likelihood one had the other. "I'm told they have over twenty varieties, a case of each. Six of those are male."
"Do they have any Jeffreys?" Grevor asked.
"Jeffreys?" Kemon looked puzzled. "I though you were more of an Adam or a Edward instead of a Jeffrey."
"Do they have any Jeffreys?"
"I think so." Kemon said. "I bought three of their Marks, myself. I love the way his dimples bend around when he smiles."
"Shit, and this was yesterday?" Would the base supply office even have any at all left? He had to get there...now! "I got to go!" He yanked on a shipboard jumpsuit and raced for the door.
"Maybe they'll have a Cedric or two left over you can get." Kemon shot after him. The Cedric was an exotic variety meant for those who preferred older, chubby men as lovers. Grevor grimaced. Surely they wouldn't have put a case of Cedrics into the limited stock of a supply ship...would they? And there were twenty-four bottles to a case....
The supply officer was an older man who practically undressed Grevor with his eyes. "May I help you?"
"Yes, I wanted to know if you have any Jeffreys left?"
"I have four Jeffreys." the supply officer admitted. "Almost the only ones I still have. But I can only sell you two of them. We've had to institute a ration in order to make them last until the next supply ship. But I still have plenty of Orvilles and don't have to ration them. Would you like a couple of them to help tide you over?"
Grevor considered it. The Orvilles were red-haired and freckled, a bit on the bony, lanky side. Another case of the company that made them trying to cater to all appetites. "Well, all right, two Jeffreys and two Orvilles." He could make do with an Orville, their red hair was a bit intriguing, he wondered if it was all over the Orville's body?
He authorized the credit to his shipboard account with a thumbswipe over the reader, and the supply officer set four bottles on the counter. Two were taller and thinner than the others. Grevor swept the four bottle to his chest in a mood akin to reverence. "Been a long time since I've had one of these. Beginning to wonder if New France was ever going to accept the technology."
"Some people have scruples." the supply officer said with an air of having discussed it all before...often. "Enjoy their matrixes while they last."
In his room, Grevor set the extra Jeffrey and the two Orvilles in a drawer so they couldn't fall off and break. The remaining Jeffrey, he placed gently upon his small work-table and got undressed. He still smelled raunchy from his five-day flight, and really should get a shower. Later, he would, he decided. Let the Jeffrey have a good whiff on him!
Nude, he reached out and flipped the toggle on the bottle. It would spray in front of itself, that would put the Jeffrey right beside the table.
Stood back and watched it. The matrix was fascinating. Sparkling rays of light fanned out from the bottle, and in their wake, as like so many spider webs, moved out to take pre-chosen places. Building the framework. To them was added layer upon layer of solidifying mist, that first filled and then coated the framework with a skin-like substance. Upon that was laid--pure magic!
Grevor stood and watched as a man was built right before his eyes. Not with bones and blood and organs and skin, but with a matrix of specialized materials that would do much the same.
The bottle finished its job by laying on a head of dark brown hair. It looked just as real as Grevor's own, thank God! The early versions had been plastic-like, as if you were holding and making love to a life-sized child's doll. This....
The blue eyes blinked, and then looked about, puzzled. Fastened upon Grevor, and smiled. "Hello." the Jeffrey said.
"Hello, Jeffrey." Grevor said in his turn. His hand pumped up his cock without thinking about it.
Jeffrey looked down and made an appreciative face and sound. "That's a beautiful cock you have on you. What is it, nine inches?"
"Nine and a half." Grevor bragged.
"Nice." Jeffrey said. That little smile was Jeffrey's special trademark, just a touch worldly-wise but still able to be impressed. The Martin, now, you couldn't surprise the Martin with anything. But Jeffrey was looking at Grevor's prong like he had never seen anything just like this, and wasn't sure he could take it...but wanted to try.
"Want to give it a try?" Grevor invited.
"It's why I'm here." Jeffrey agreed. He knelt (the movements were so human-like, it was like having a real man bending over his prick.
Jeffrey inhaled luxuriously. "The smell of man." he said. "Nothing better in the entire universe."
"You got that right." Grevor said. "Why don't you suck it now?"
"Don't mind if I do." Jeffrey obliged by grabbing hold of Grevor's dong and when he lifted it to his lips, Grevor gave a hunch of his hips to drive it home.
"Gh-mph!" was all Jeffrey said as the 9 1/2 inch rod was rammed into his mouth. Nothing about the inside felt fake in any way to Grevor. He might as well have stuck his dick into a real man...which was the entire point, of course.
"Yeah, Jeffrey, come on, suck it hard and suck it fast." Grevor grunted. "I haven't gotten off in six days and I haven't washed it in that long, either. Taste that hot, funky man-bar and gobble down the smegma for me."
"Mmh, mm-mmphh!" Jeffrey mumbled as Grevor shoved his prong in and out of the hot, pliable mouth. Grevor could feel his cock shoving into Jeffrey's throat, the hot damp craw bending the tip of his fuckpole over and down. Not quite human, this...the damn tool fit! But God, it did feel good!
"Ahh, ahh, uh, shit, yeah!" Grevor moaned. "Come on, Jeffrey, suck me faster, come on, suck it hard, yeah, fuck, yeah, hard!"
Jeffrey sped up as per command and Grevor threw back his head and groaned, his hands came up and grabbed Jeffrey's ears, hard! Jeffrey was going to get a bitch-fuck that would strain his matrix, yeah, Grevor though, I'll bust this Jeffrey wide open, make it spew all over and know that I broke it, broke it in two by fucking it too hard. Test to destruction, maximum punishment, yeah!
But Jeffrey was handling it all, even still. Even Jeffrey's ears, being mauled by Grevor's hands, were still keeping their shape, bending and warping only as much as regular ears are meant to. Damned fine production values on this one, fuck yeah!
Jeffrey's tongue began to play over the bottom of Grevor's prong and Grevor gasped. Shit, he didn't think the bottled creation could have had it in him!
"Fuck, man, enough of this." Grevor growled. "Get up and bend over, and I'm going to ram it in you but good!"
Jeffrey let go and said, "Come on, big man, lay that fat rod on me. Rip me a new asshole with it, come on!" And Jeffrey lay over the desk, exposing his ass for Grevor's pleasure.
Grevor just got it up to Jeffrey's asshole and with the cockhead in position, he rammed it in. Jeffrey jumped a bit as the long pole invaded his butt, but he only let out a long moan as Grevor began to pull it out and shove it back in again. Oh, God, they really designed Jeffrey perfectly! God, Grevor felt the hot wetness of Jeffrey's experienced but tight bunghole clutching his shaft, milking at him as he fucked, Grevor was making the work-table squeak where it connected to the wall. Yeah, break it all, tear a hole in the ship by ramming Jeffrey all the way through it with his cock! Yeah, fuck, yeah!
"Oh, God, uh, gah, uh, gah!" Jeffrey muttered. "Oh, God, man, I'm going to come, I'm going to come!"
"Don't you shoot that spunk on my floor." warned Grevor. "You hold it back until I tell you you can come, you hear me?"
"Oh, God, oh, God, oh, oh, oh, God!" Jeffrey gasped. "Oh, I'm coming, I'm coming!"
"Don't you squirt that on my table!" Grevor cautioned. "You shoot it and you'll lick it all up, you damned fuck-toy, damn you, don't you dare come!"
"Oh, God, oh, oh, oh, UH-GUH-HNNNHHH!" and Jeffrey clutched the table tightly as his face wrenched up in pleasure and in pain.
"You bastard, you rotten little bitch!" Grevor snarled and then his own climax clawed at his skull. "Oh, AH, GUH, UH, HUH-NNNNNHHHHHGGUHHHH!"
His cock exploded into Jeffrey's innards with the power of a hyperjet's laser cannon. Blast after blast of hot salty spunk peppered the construct's bowels. Grevor slammed his cock in and out of Jeffrey as he came, no reason to be gentle, none at all, fuck this bastard, coming on his table, on his floor, when he told it not to! Shit, fuck, hell, FUCK!
"Ah-hah, ah-hah, ah-hah!" Grevor clung to Jeffrey with both arms around his waist, lying upon him without consideration or care. If Jeffrey broke under his weight, he did, that was all.
"Oh, man, you were hot." Jeffry moaned. "I splattered everything under me, God, yeah!"
"I told you not to come." panted Grevor. "Dumb shit."
"Not to worry." Jeffrey said. "It'll all clean up."
"So clean it up." Grevor ordered as he went over and lay on his bunk. His cock flopped obscenely on his thigh as he lay down.
Jeffrey cleaned up the mess he had made, Grevor noted with a small cloth of some sort. Had it taken that from his things, or made it himself? Probably made it.
"You want to rest a while before we go again?" Jeffrey asked Grevor.
"Yeah, but you get over here and lick me while I'm waiting." Grevor said. "I'm sweaty and after that many days in a hyperjet, I stink like a sonuvabitch."
Jeffrey smiled and went to the task. That tongue was damned talented. Grevor felt his cock twitching as Jeffrey finished with the second armpit and began on one ample breast-nipple.
Then Jeffrey straightened up. "My time is near an end." he said. "If you wish to continue, you must decant another of my variety. Although, comparing your performance against my specifications, may I suggest you try a Virgil next time?"
"What's a Virgil?" Grevor said. Hadn't heard of that one.
"A Virgil is young and ready to be trained by you." Jeffrey said. "He is completely inexperienced and trembles as he obeys your every whim. The Virgil was designed by the Matsumo Corporation in conjunction with...."
"Okay, shut up." Grevor should have known the Jeffrey would end with a sales pitch. "You going to end now, go ahead and end, damn it."
"As you wish." Jeffrey agreed and closed his eyes. And melted down onto the floor. The framework appeared briefly, only to collapse in upon itself. By the end of it, the Jeffrey was nothing more than a smallish blob that looked like it had been wrapped in a lot of white twine. Easy enough to slide this down the nearest disposal chute.
Grevor lay back on his bunk when he'd disposed of the Jeffrey. "A Virgil, hm?" He mused. "Maybe I will ask about them the next time around."
He really ought to take a shower, he decided. But sleep stole upon him before he could act upon his decision.
THE END
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