Fenig's Follies

The ginger-haired man shifted in the bed, rolling from side to side under the thin, pale blanket. His motion became faster until he sat up, eyes open and wide. He looked around the room, not recognizing it but knowing its type. Motor lodge. He struggled out from under the tangled blankets, rubbing his face. He patted for his glasses, blinking as he didn't find them.

He didn't need them. He looked around the room again, everything in focus. He got up from the bed and went into the small bathroom. He emptied his bladder and turned on the faucet. He looked up from washing his hands. Now, he'd been looking back at his reflection for however old he was, but he couldn't recognize himself. He couldn't put a name to the face looking back. He gripped the sink, his balance uncertain.

He wasn't going to panic. Okay, he was panicking but he wasn't going to let it get out of control. This wasn't uncommon right after... He couldn't remember after what. Just a sense that he'd experienced disorientation many times over the years; he couldn't enumerate precisely. He looked into the reflection. He had to be over thirty but younger than forty. He recognized it was the sort of face that made people consider him younger than his age. His beard was getting a bit long. He wondered where his trimming scissors were. How could he remember that or that he'd started growing his beard because he was tired of being judged a little kid in high school? And not his own name?

He needed to sit down. He went back to the bed and sat on the foot. His confusion was lasting too long. He was sure of that. Oh, he remembered things, but the sort of generic memories of playgrounds and various buildings and meatloaf night. He'd been hurt once. But that was long ago. He couldn't still be suffering amnesia, not from something that happened when he was a child. He remembered high school.

Taken. He started to shiver, and he gasped to breathe deep. They had done things to him, painful, humiliating things. They kept taking him, and no one believed him. Couldn't he have forgotten that, instead of his name? He looked for his-- it rolled away from his mind. What was he looking for? Okay, think calm. Calm thoughts. He looked around the room, trying to find whatever was his. There was a bag by the dresser.

He stood and walked over to it. He grabbed it and walked back to the bed. Being the only clue he unzipped it and carefully removed everything, making an exploded view across the top of the unmade bed. He looked around the room. Where were the clothes he came in? There were no jeans other than the folded ones he'd taken out, no used socks next to the boots he'd overlooked, also by the dresser. He walked over to them, picked them up and turned them to look at the soles.

Never worn. They were new, only half-laced like the ones stores with salesmen stocked. He set them down and looked at the clothes. These he was less certain about. He smelled them and they were clean, nicely folded to fit into the bag. The jeans weren't stiff. The shirts had no tags. Two plaid flannel, two twill, one denim. It was too much to think about. He grabbed a change of underwear, a pair of jeans and a shirt and headed to the bathroom.

There had been no toiletries in the bag. He turned on the shower and stripped off his boxers. He unwrapped the complimentary bar of soap and lathered up, washing and inspecting for any clues. The scrutiny and the hot water wound him up and his stress needed relief. Knowing the water wasn't infinite, he quickly shampooed and rinsed his hair and beard before wrapping his hand around his penis. He slid it up and down, rubbing his nipples with the other hand. He came just as the water went icy.

He wrenched the water off, sluicing off soap lather and come as he did. He toweled off roughly, trying to get warm, and dressed. He went back into the room. The clock suggested he had a few hours before standard check out. Money. There was no wallet, no driver's license. He turned the bag over, patted it, dug through the clothes pockets. He found a folded wad of bills. Crisp. They were all new bills, like grandmas got at the bank for gifts. Two tens, three fives, fifteen ones. Fifty dollars. He'd always had to pay ahead in these places so he was okay, he thought.

He put the money into his front pocket, put on socks and laced the boots up. Breakfast would make him feel better. There'd be a grocery somewhere around here. He stood. Walking too much would be a problem for a few days. At least he had clothes. He put them back into the bag. He checked around the room. Found the room key. He sat for a moment and got up. Opened the door, looking along the concrete stoop that joined all the rooms together. There was a paper in front of his. He stooped and picked it up, closing the door. Chicago Tribune. He slid down the door as he registered the date. 2004.

Twenty-first century. He'd missed 2001. Bill Clinton had just started his second term. That was as much as he recalled. Years. He'd lost years. Did he look older? He couldn't judge, not remembering his face. Somebody knew him. Who?

Somebody had checked him in. Something. Was he checked in? He'd thought he'd try to peek at the register when he left. There were no tags in the shirts. It would be a fake name. How had they gotten him in wearing only boxers? He inched up the door and pushed away, forcing himself to stand. He strode over to the bag. He'd slip out. He shouldered the strap, then thought to unzip the bag and put the newspaper inside. He wiped off the key on his jeans, holding it between his fingers. He opened the door, rubbed the inner knob with his sleeve, pulled the door shut and locked it, buffing off his fingerprints.

He dropped the keys off, the attendant not looking up from his crossword. He found the little grocery not too far down the road. He hoped inflation hadn't gone rampant. He pulled the door open and stepped inside. He got a few rolls and a small jar of peanut butter. He also got a small coffee, grabbing a plastic knife from the station. He put the purchases on the counter and pulled out the money and paid.

He wished that whomever had thought to include a hat. He sunburned badly. Why had they given him changes of clothes? He didn't think it had ever been like this before. He'd remembered who he was then, hadn't he? What had they done to him? He knew before that he'd have had a cut or other mark that he didn't remember getting. Except he did. Remember. He didn't now, but he did then. He shivered.

Where should he go? He didn't know anyone, though he must have friends, family. Less than fifty dollars wouldn't last long. It would turn cold at night. He didn't know where he was though he figured it was Illinois, or maybe Indiana. He supposed it didn't matter, without knowing where he was headed.

Except... Maybe one of the bigger college towns. He knew he didn't want to get lost in the system, but maybe an instructor would help him for a footnote in a paper. It was a purpose. He needed to figure out where he was.

He found himself riding in a short haul truck with a woman that looked like she might have built ships during WWII. Apparently the diner waitress had assumed he was from Knox and had gotten separated from his ride. He must have been exceptionally pathetic, after hours walking in unbroken boots; she'd convinced this woman to give him a lift. After a few hours he figured out that she was bored and needed the company to keep focused on the road. It was amazing the things he rambled on about. Stuff he didn't even know he knew.

She put him out at the edge of Galesburg, figuring he could call someone to get him. He didn't want her to know the truth so he smiled as she drove off. Had he even been here before? At least he'd stopped feeling his feet. He got directions and shuffled for the campus. Was probably too early for the steam vents to be warm.

He fell, skinning his hand on the sharp gravel. He picked himself up and plopped his bag in the pool of light of a street lamp. He looked at his hand. Green. His blood was green. Blood shouldn't be green. It was though.

Who was he? What was he? Were his memories, such as they were, even his? If they were fake, why weren't they more complete? That made sense. He just had amnesia. And green blood. That was freaking him out. Aliens had green blood. He had green--but he was human. Aliens didn't eat meatloaf and hit their heads as children and they didn't get abducted and experimented on. He'd been experimented on. Taken and experimented on, but always put back. Why didn't they put him back this time? He'd had red blood, he remembered bleeding from his ear and that had left red and then brown stains. What had they done to him?

"Are you okay?"

He tried to say he was okay, to act normal. He looked up. She was pretty.

"Silly question. Is there someone I can call for you?"

She pulled out a tiny phone. It flipped open like a communicator, and wasn't much bigger than a diver's watch. "No. I, just got into town."

"How about you come with me then?"

He thought this had to be the strangest thing that had happened today. "Um, you don't know me. I could hurt you."

She laughed. He stood up, too fast from the way he swayed. She caught him. She was warm and strong. He noticed that she was blonde as she picked up his bag. He hadn't noticed if she was wearing heels but she was at least as tall as he was. He fainted.

He came to sitting in a restaurant booth. He looked around. Scratch that; a restaurant-style booth. Or, one that had turned domestic. He was in a kitchen. He looked down, noticed the mug and brought it to his lips. Chicken soup. With stars. He really should go, but this was nice. There weren't many women serial killers. He really wasn't sure he could cope on the street overnight.

"You're awake. Better get those boots off. It's going to hurt."

He took another swallow of soup and shifted around. He had gauze on his hand. Okay, he'd been getting hysterical. "Thanks." He waved the hand in question. Clearly he'd been seeing things. "Why are you doing this?"

"Merit badge." She unlaced the boots and pulled them off. She rolled down the socks carefully and put his feet into a basin of warm water.

She didn't look like any girl scout he'd seen. Not with those breasts. He was punchy. He swished his feet around in the water. He had blisters. What was going on? He grabbed the mug, and drank more soup.

"My name's Betty."

Damn. "Um, hi, Betty." She might be willing to take in strays, but one that didn't know his name? She was looking at him, waiting for the normal answer. "I, um," Great, getting tongue-tied in front of the pretty Sabine, wait--

She wrapped a hand around his and eased the mug away. "You'll be better after a night's sleep." She lifted each foot and dried it. "You have a pair of clean socks?" She tilted her head to his bag.

"Yeah." He started to stand.

She held him in his seat. "Sit. I don't want those blisters popping and getting infected." She got up and headed for the bag.

Her legs were long.

"Where are they?"

He muttered something in reply, too tired to react to her pulling out a pair of boxers before finding the socks. He hoped she didn't have a jealous boyfriend. He forgot about that morbid thought as she rolled socks onto his feet. He stood again and the room spun. He found himself in her arms. He looked around as she walked through the apartment. "Very eclectic."

"I pick things up." She sat him on a bed. "The bathroom is behind that door. See you in the morning." She grabbed something out of the dresser and entered the bathroom.

This was her bed. "I can sleep on the couch."

She came back out in a few minutes. "You're closer to the bathroom this way."

His mouth was dry. She was wearing a nightgown. Sleep shirt. Silky. Skimmed over her curves, leaving too much to imagination. "Thank you."

She smiled and turned off the light. The lamp by the bed was on, leaving the room in shadow. There was no door, just a curtain. He unbuttoned his shirt and then unzipped his jeans. He skinned out of them, folded them and dropped them on the floor, and the shirt on top. He slipped under the covers. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been in a woman's bed, and didn't think that was just amnesia.

He did feel better in the morning, except for his protesting legs. He got up and did his business. He really needed to do something about his beard. He opened the medicine cabinet. He could trim it a little with the tape scissors. He wiped the sink down afterwards and washed the scissors and put them back. Sheepishly he grabbed the toothpaste and squeezed out a little onto his finger. An ersatz brush and rinse later he felt a bit more human. He shuffled back into the room. His bag was sitting beside the bed. He had to admit a day on the road left him grungy. He pulled out fresh clothes and went back into the bathroom for a shower.

Of course, this got the gauze wet. He opened the cabinet again and pulled out the supplies. He untaped the old bandage. Green. The scab was green as was the stain on the gauze. A sort of mossy green. He cut a replacement and taped it on quickly. How had she missed it last night? He had to go. He walked out of the bathroom and went to grab last night's clothes. He didn't know how he'd get the boots on, but he had to get away. They weren't there! All his money was in the jeans. He dropped onto the bed.

Betty pushed the curtain aside. "You okay?" She looked him over. "What's wrong?"

"My clothes."

"I washed them. I put the money in the pocket of your bag. Are you sure you're all right?" She stepped closer. She reached out to stroke his face. "You look better."

She was petting his beard. He felt the bed move, as she sat beside him. He needed to leave. He wanted to kiss her, and he was bleeding green. She leaned in and pressed her lips against his. He put his hands on her shoulders, stuck between pushing her away and pulling her closer. Then she was gone. Not kissing him. Still sitting on the bed, but not kissing him.

"Ready for breakfast?" She didn't wait for a reply but scooped him up again. She had a thing about that. He was developing one too. She slipped him into the booth again and came back with two bowls of cereal.

"I should-"

"Eat up. We'll go and get you a pair of Keds."

"I,"

"An off brand. You'll need to let your feet heal before going in search of yourself. It's not like you have any hot leads."

"How'd you...?" He had been eating and he scooped another spoonful to keep from saying anything stupid. More. She'd kissed him and she knew he bled green. Who was she?

"You didn't have a wallet. The hip pockets hadn't been stretched. You've got two tens and a five. ATMs spit out twenties. All of your clothes are new or nearly so. Are the other shirts missing tags?"

He nodded and continued eating.

"Brand new boots."

He waited. Then he looked up.

"You're cute. We'll figure out where you belong." She stopped talking and ate.

He set the spoon down in the empty bowl. She took it and her own away, and he heard the faucet whoosh for a moment.

"Now, you'll have to wear the boots. Think you can get them on by yourself?"

He nodded, not at all sure.

"I'll get your money."

He had one on by the time she came back. He wedged the other one on as quickly as he could. He was surprised at the kiss he got once he stood.

"Betty."

"Come on, cutie."

He followed.

After getting shoes, they had a small picnic, which was deli sandwiches and potato salad at a park. "Betty, you've been really nice, but I've got to get going. I can't abuse your," He didn't even know what to call it. She didn't know him. He didn't know him.

"Hospitality. And, you aren't. I might be abusing it, though. Let me help you. I'll try not to confuse you until you know your name. Deal?"

Did that mean no more kisses? "Um, okay." Probably did, but he'd still see her. So much for not confusing him. "This mean I'm on the couch?"

"No."

He needed to know his name quick.

She suggested he take a nap when they got back to her apartment. He agreed. There were no windows. He stripped down to his boxers and crawled into bed.

He woke up with a tongue running along his lips. He bolted upright, grabbing- "Betty?" She felt good, and this was going to be awkward. He tried to shift so the blankets wouldn't be incriminating.

"I think I found you." She tried pulling him from the bed.

"Let me get dressed."

She ran a finger up his sternum and left the room. It took him longer to get into his jeans than he'd have liked. He shrugged on his shirt and put on the canvas shoes. "Betty?"

"In here." She was at a desk made of part of an old door and some ironmongery. The computer was state of the art. Well, past the state of 199whatever; he couldn't really judge now. He looked at it, looking for the cables.

"Wireless. Encrypted. Look."

He gripped her shoulders. "In memorium, Max Fenig." Betty clicked through the website. There was video footage. Of him. Talking about alien abductions. Finally she rested on an obituary. "I'm dead?"

"They think so. You weren't on the plane."

"I was." He remembered boarding. Why had he been so nervous? He was carrying something. "The plane went down?"

"No survivors. The military shot it down. A terrible accident."

"It wasn't. An accident." He let go, and stumbled back, fell.

Betty was helping him. He heard a hiss. He was bleeding again, he'd cut his hand on a shard of mirror. Where had that come from? Green blood was dripping onto Betty, where it sizzled. He scrambled away.

"Max, calm down." She guided him to the sink, and washed his hand. She cut another piece of gauze for him and taped it on.

He looked at the blister, welt, from where his blood had struck. Watched it heal. He looked her in the face. "Betty?"

"You're going to have to trust me." She grabbed a Q-tip and pulled his mouth open and rubbed it inside his cheek. "Wait for the truth." She left him standing in the bathroom.

It wasn't just green but caustic. He was a hazard. She'd been burnt. And she'd healed. He was dead. He'd gotten on that plane and it'd been shot down. There were kids on that plane. A pregnant woman. A military fighter fired on the plane. He was on that plane. Why had he gotten on that plane? He was sitting on the bed, so he fell back. So many people. Dead. Thought he was dead. He was who they wanted and he'd survived. No survivors.

"Max."

He opened his eyes. He'd been crying and he thought it was justified. The least he could do.

"I shouldn't have shown you that. Not without warning." She pulled him up, tipped a glass to his lips. She pulled it back when he guzzled. She set the water down. "I ran some tests."

"Tests?"

"I don't think you're a clone. You are human. Were."

"Were? Clone? Betty-"

"You've been hybridized. Post growth. You could be a clone, but human ones don't decant well. Not enough stimulation." She pulled at his shirt. She swirled a finger around his navel. She pulled up her own shirt. There was just a small seam. "I'm not sure how they do that." She dropped her shirt. "I'd say you're woman born."

"Why? Hybridized? Human clones? What am I, Betty? What are you?"

"Which is more important, means or ends?"

"Huh?"

"I don't have the answers. Not all of them. There are almost 6 billion humans on this planet. They aren't alone."

"We. Betty."

"I'm not included in that select 6 billion. Homo sapiens indestructus may be recorded, if the aliens don't succeed. You're not the first hybrid. I'm glad you weren't on that plane." She reached over, stroked his hair.

"I was." He grabbed her. "I was on that plane when it took off. They wanted me. They killed them because I got on that plane, with all those people. That's why they died."

"They died because evil balks at nothing. It has no loyalty. They have killed so they could believe they'd live. Not for their lives, but for power." She held him close. Kissed him. "Clearly, you didn't stay on the flight. Where have you been all these years, Max Fenig?"

"Being hybridized."

"That wouldn't have taken years. The research did... You disappeared a year before the first one was successful. Maybe you are the first... No. Doesn't really matter."

"Why? Why me, why do they need a hybrid?"

"Hewers of wood and drawers of water. When they came there were fewer than 2.5 billion humans. Even that's more than they want. They've got a plague to liquidate the surplus. They've been taking you for years. Known quantity." She stood.

Max gripped her hand. "You said... That is, I know my name." It was lame, beyond lame. He wasn't even human anymore.

"Max." She leaned down and kissed him. She held him until he couldn't breathe and then she suckled his neck. Betty unbuttoned his shirt, pushed it from his shoulders. She rubbed her face lower.

Max slipped his hands up her shirt and fumbled with her bra. He wanted her. He cupped her breasts, hard peaks so good to thumb. Needed to see them.

Betty threw the shirt, and the bra, across the room. She pulled him in, beard rubbing her cleavage. She twisted, brushing his lips with a nipple.

Max pulled, tried to pull, at her waist. He wanted in, needed to plunge into her. Was so hard. He hissed as his zipper went down, and his jeans followed. He lost his mouthful.

Betty replaced it with her tongue, thrusting into his mouth. She moved his hands onto her breasts, sliding her kiss down his neck, rubbing against his chest hair. She went lower.

Max looked down at the top of her head, bobbing like a fishing float. He couldn't believe this was happening. Had he ever been this lucky? Close, he was so close. He wouldn't be much good to her, he tried to tell her and then he was coming. She kept swallowing, and he kept coming. He couldn't have that much in his body.

Betty turned him in the bed, laying him back carefully. A dribble escaped her lips. The skin blistered and healed before Max saw it. He reached for her. "Go to sleep, Max." She kissed him on the forehead and slipped into the bathroom.

He'd had the strangest dream. He lifted the sheet. Not a dream. He got up, wondering why Betty hadn't joined him to sleep. It was her bed, after all. He reached for a clean pair of boxers. His bag had been at the side of the bed, but it wasn't there. He went into the bathroom.

Done, he came back into the room. Last night's shorts weren't there anymore, either. He looked at the dresser and started opening drawers. He found his boxers and socks in with her lingerie. He pulled the closet curtain aside and there were his shirts, minus last night's. He lifted one out and went back into the bathroom.

Shower finished, he found Betty in the kitchen. He slipped close behind her. "I can't find my pants."

"You're doing nothing for your case." She swayed her hips against him.

Max took the spatula from her and turned her around. He could get lost in her mouth. He flipped the pancake and leaned closer. Pressed against her. He stepped, rather stumbled back.

Betty grabbed him before he could fall, reeling him back into her. She rocked against his hardness, meeting it with her own. She took the flipper from him and turned off the stove. "Can't wait until after breakfast?"

Max shook his head. She guided him back into the bedroom. He dropped onto the mattress. "I was hoping to ease into this." She unbuttoned the blouse, and let it flutter onto the bed. Betty unhooked the bra, dropping it onto the blouse. She reached behind for the zip of her pants.

She was beautiful. High, round breasts, slim waist with the puckered navel, long legs. She turned her back on him as she slid the panties down. He noticed she'd been barefoot. She did something and her hair spilled down.

Betty turned around. Max closed his eyes. Didn't keep him from seeing her projected inside his eyelids. She was perfect, all long lines and sensuous curves. Including a few that didn't belong on a woman. He opened his eyes. He looked at the extra bits and then up to her face.

"You're a natural blonde." He closed his eyes. How inane.

"Max." Betty walked to him and pulled his right hand to her breast and his left to her face. "Open your eyes, please." She sank, pushing against his right knee.

He let Betty kneel between his legs. He was getting hard again against her belly. He opened his eyes. Hers were blue. He wiped at the rising tear with his thumb. He saw another in the left eye and lifted his hand to wipe that one away. "Don't, Betty." He leaned forward and kissed her. He pulled away, shifting so he could stand to one side of her. "I'll finish making breakfast."

He had two good sized stacks finished when she came back into the kitchen, dressed. He set the plates at the table. "Where's the syrup?" He followed Betty's nod and picked up the caddy. "An IHOP fetish?"

Betty just looked at him. "Um, you said decanted. Human clones don't decant well?"

"Not full grown ones." She picked up the maple syrup.

"Full grown?" He blinked. "Tanks? You came out full grown?"

"Mostly. We're pulled out a little earlier. They didn't have tapes for everything. Some things we had to learn for ourselves."

"Why, I mean, to what purpose--" Max closed his mouth.

She touched his arm. "It's a good question. They're worried."

Max looked confused.

"They've already got Homo sapiens sapiens breeding out of control. But a woman can get places a man can't."

Max lowered his fork to his plate.

"I like mine as much as you like yours. Wanted not to startle you."

"Don't think that was avoidable." He cut more of his pancakes. "I should sleep on the couch."

"You'll stay?" She smiled, encouragingly.

"I don't really have anywhere to go." He was still dead. And he suspected that it could become a more terminal condition if he wasn't careful.

Betty placed her hand over his left.

It felt good.

When night came, Betty wouldn't let Max sleep on the couch. Nor would she the next night. On the third, Max insisted she sleep in her bed. She agreed on the condition they share.

Max came out of the bathroom surprised that Betty was wearing harem pants and nothing else. "Betty."

"'Points of her own, set way up high.' You like them, I like to sleep in the nude. Compromise."

It almost made sense. Max got into bed. Betty joined him, lying on her stomach.

They moved during the night. He woke with her chest on his chest. He needed some private time. He touched her shoulders hoping not to wake her. Instead, Betty kissed him. "I need to, I've got to, Betty."

"Let me. You liked that." She wriggled as she got up.

He closed his eyes and nodded. Her mouth was on his tip and he thought he'd come at that. Apparently she knew a few things he didn't. Torture, for one. 'Willing Victim.' He clasped a hand over her hair. She spun him out for an eternity. She sucked hard.

"Betty?" She had slipped to the side, still front down, but facing away from him.

She pulled his hands to her ass. It felt good, even knowing she was jerking off. He leaned his forehead against her back. Kissed her spine. She shuddered. He noticed how he was wrapped over her, and moved off. He used the bathroom very quickly and was in the kitchen before she stirred.

"Max." She sat next to him, wrapping his hands with her own.

He turned his head and kissed her. He stroked her face, her breast, pulled her against him. "How is this supposed to work?"

"I think it's working pretty well. I like blowing you, you like being blown. You like my breasts and I like your chest."

"Betty." She kissed him. So that did work well. He wanted to make love to her though, and that never would. He cupped her breasts and pushed away. She rubbed his shoulders and kissed his neck.

She got up, leaving Max alone in the kitchen. He got up and looked in the cabinets. His stomach didn't feel too good, and he figured eating might settle it. Canned goods, boxed goods, packaged foods in the fridge and freezer. He saw a can of chicken and stars.

Betty turned around from the computer. Max was holding two mugs.

"Peace offering?" He handed her a mug. "What are you working on?"

"It's not ready. I really like you, Max."

"I like you too, but--"

"I bedded a man with a vagina." Max's eyes went wide. "He was rather surprised."

"Trans-man."

"Probably not the best example, since I don't suppose he could have ignored it long term either."

He had nothing to say to that. It was too far outside his experience. He started laughing.

"Max?"

"Just... My experience includes being hybridized by invading aliens and a trans-man and a woman with factory extra equipment getting it on seems strange." His breathing became ragged from the hysterical laughter.

"You're right, thought about that way it is funny." She pulled the mug from his hand. "I'm sorry about a lot of things, but not for meeting you."

"You're my silver lining." What a cock-up. He started laughing again. Betty held him and that was good.

After that the day had passed quietly. Betty stepped into the bedroom, looking over Max up from his bare toes, sleep-panted leg and t-shirt covered chest. They exchanged no words, Betty refusing to commit herself to the bed until Max did likewise, moving to head him off each time he went for the couch. Once it was established that they were both sleeping in the bed they sat on their respective sides.

"Max."

"Betty."

"Are you tired?"

"No..."

She lay down. "Neither am I."

Max turned. He stretched out and stroked her cheek. "You're pretty." He leaned over and kissed her. Her lips, her face, forehead, behind her ear. He suckled her throat, tonguing it, finally biting. He pulled back. His apology froze as the hickey faded like drying water.

Betty reached up and stroked his hair, stroked the flesh right behind his ear. There was a faint scar, hard to see on his pale skin. She stroked over it, worrying the slight seam. She smiled into his returning kiss.

They made out slowly, Betty's camisole and Max's t-shirt pushed and eventually cast aside. He fingered the valley of her not-navel. He pulled his mouth away from her breast.

Betty pinned Max's shoulders to the bed and kissed him hard and deep. "Let me take care of you."

"Bett--" Max was cut off by her low skimming hand. She traced back and forth along the elastic of the sleep-pants. He thought about her 'five sisters' versus his own hand. He slipped his hand under the waistband, opening a gap. He closed his eyes as Betty closed her hand.

"Open them."

She was gorgeous. He'd never had a woman this excited. He pulled her down to kiss, stroke her back. He thumbed the knobbed vertebra at the base of her neck. He gasped, arched and came.

Betty drew a heart on Max's chest and put her hand over it. She kissed him and got up. She smiled at the healing brand on her palm as she sashayed into the bathroom.

He crabcrawled up in the bed as Betty cleaned him up. "I, um, are you, I mean--" She kissed him silent.

"Works for me." She kissed him and disposed of the used wipe in the bathroom. The water went on and off. She slipped back into bed and leaned into Max. "No more talk about the couch."

He stared at the celling. The couch was the furthest thing from his mind.

Betty gave him a gift wrapped package. It was too thin for a book. "What's the occasion?"

"I got them done. Open it."

He tore into the paper. Envelope. He opened it. "This, how?" He looked at the driver's license. The holographic printing winked. "This is why you took that picture." He looked at the other papers. Birth certificate, which explained the date on the I.D., SSA letter, Po Box number, cashier's check. All of it for Maximilian MacMillian. "You can't do this."

"If you weren't dead you'd still be collecting. The check is just a portion of the unclaimed abandoned property you left. Taking all of it could be noticed. And all of your restrictions are on the card, except about needing glasses. You do have to personally pick up the box key."

Max sat down. "I don't want to leave."

"I don't want you to either. But I had to let you be able to. What you love, set it free."

He looked up. "I think this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me." He wouldn't mention Madeline. He'd avoid reading Proust.

"You'll probably want to sign up for a few things, assure yourself some junkmail. Just not MUFON or NICAP."

"Or Lone Gunman."

"That's an electronic publication."

"The guys."

"It's under new editorship. I subscribe, have the back issues." Betty typed in a few strings at the computer. "I'll make lunch."

Max sat in the booth. "They got them."

"I'm sorry." She brought him a bowl. "I'm out of stars."

Max looked at the soup. Minestrone. "That's okay."

"It was unrelated terrorists. Still happens. Since then people have tried to tie it to al-Qaida."

"Al-Qaida? In America?" Betty found her soup very interesting.

Max spent the next several weeks getting up to date on current events. "Why isn't anyone doing anything?" He sat on their bed.

"Tell a big enough lie. There are." She sat up and rubbed his shoulders. "You have to know where to look to find out about it, what people are doing. It's not only bad news that is hidden."

Max cleaved to her, kissed hard, fingers bruising. They flopped back and forth on the bed, clothes flying. He lifted up, looking at her in just her night slip. "What do you want?"

"Penetrated." Max didn't pull away, instead kissed her. Betty thumbed his ear and rolled over while shimmying out of the halfslip. She reached for the nightstand drawer. "Use this."

Max took the small jar of vaseline. Opened, scooped, put aside. He spread the stuff over his penis and lined up. He pushed and sank. He pistoned, moved his hands from her hips to under her breasts. "Perfect." He kissed along her spine, between her shoulders to the base of her skull.

Betty lifted up on her left forearm, breasts swaying in Max's hands. She reached between her legs, rolling her stones. Intermittently stroked her cock. She bucked back into Max.

Max tried to duplicate whatever made her move like that. There. He moved faster, shoving into her, balls slapping. He was going to, he was, came.

Betty felt Max tense and sped up. Her climax splattered.

Max pulled his hand out from under Betty. It wasn't vaseline on his hand. Betty licked it off.

"Ohhh."

"That's promising." Betty twisted and kissed Max. She slipped out of bed. He was still looking at his other hand. She wondered how her come had gotten onto his chest.

"It was all over you." He moaned as Betty licked him clean. Moaned at her kissing him. He didn't want this. He held her. Couldn't get enough of Betty, but not this.

Things were awkward for a couple of days. Then they slipped back into their previous ease. Weeks passed, routines formed.

Betty was surprised when Max humped against her. "You know where it is." She moaned enthusiastically as he pulled down her slip and breached her. She rocked into him, pushing him deeper. It was so good, him against her prostate. His hands stayed on her back, with forays into her hair.

It was over too soon, the splash of semen burning in her channel. "Max." Her voice was sated and husky.

"I need time. To accept, you know."

"All the time in the world." Too bad that might be less than a decade.

"Thank you." Max eased out of her and went into the bathroom. When he got out the bed had been stripped, a stack of clean linens piled on top. Betty slipped past him. He made the bed, pulled on boxers, and got in. She joined him wearing a fresh nightgown. He stretched out his arm and she snuggled close.

"I need to see you."

Betty rolled over onto her back. Her eyes dropped to Max's hand moving smoothly along his cock. "It'll be against your stomach." He nodded. She pulled up the nightgown, twisting with the friction of the fabric against flesh. Betty caught her erection and lifted her legs, bending and spreading them wide. Her hole stretched as Max slid in to the root. She let herself go and grabbed Max's ass in both hands. "I'm not going to last."

Max latched his mouth over Betty's. It was strange, this organ between them. Like and unlike his own stroking in her ass. Ignoring it meant he thought of nothing else. He loved Betty. Whatever that made him didn't change, whether he avoided or didn't avoid part of her.

Betty was right, and Max followed her climax. She'd come all over him.

"Max, get up. Before you get a chest wax." He rolled like he was on fire. Betty followed and tongued a thick patch. Max made so many different noises. Cute, hot, she liked them. "Shower in the morning?" She fell asleep on her flesh pillow.

"You do." He flushed deep. "Max?"

"I mean about the invasion. I used to track ships, try to prove abductions to people. That's what I used my checks for. I don't even have the seizures, no meds, and I'm collecting money for doing nothing."

"Consider it a vacation. I," Betty considered whether she should say anything. "I'll show it to you next month."

Max wondered what Betty was working on, but was willing to wait. She'd been patient with him.

"Okay. But I could cook more of the meals. Get the groceries. If I can use your car?"

He looked at the equipment. "You have a private NORAD." He recognized some of them as the bigger siblings of what he'd had in the trailer. Others, he had no idea what they were for. "What did you have in mind?"

"Might be good to have someone here more of the time. I'll train you on the systems as we go."

That and the next day covered a lot of information. He felt better about it after a few days. He'd been having a good dream. He opened his eyes, thinking how not to wake Betty up. He looked from one shoulder to the other. Two Bettys. Wasn't a dream. "Betty." Their stereo wake up wriggles and pats were...

"Someone's waking..." Betty looked on the other side of Max. She looked back.

Max reached down and disengaged the supernumerary hands from his tackle and headed into the bathroom after scooping up some clothes. He found them sitting on opposite sides of the booth. "What's going on? Where did you come from?"

"I've been here all along."

Max looked between them. They needed work on speaking in unison. "What do you...? I've been having sex with both of you?!"

"Off and on."

He wanted to sit, but not next to one or the other. He watched the one slide over next to the other. He sat on the vacated side. "Thank you. You've been swapping me?"

"We're sisters."

"I'm not a sweater."

"Do you like one of us better?"

"I can't tell you apart!" He got up. Sleeping with an engineered hermaphrodite assassin wasn't enough, now he was a potential Jerry Springer guest.

"We like you."

"Share and share alike?"

"Finders keepers was out the window pretty early."

"This is not my fault."

"We don't have a problem."

"You both said you were Betty."

"Why confuse you any further?"

"I need to know your name, whichever of you isn't Betty." Of course, to him they were either both or neither Betty, depending what sort of spin you wanted to put on it.

"Lisa."

"Lisa. What happened, Lisa? You forget whose turn it was?"

"International date line."

Max didn't think he could be surprised any more. "International Date Line? You've been jetsetting?!"

"The aliens aren't just in this country nor are their collaborators."

"I'm a comfort station?" It just got worse and worse. He shook his head. "Anything else? Tentacles?"

"Neither of us can be here all the time. You've been alone too much."

"This isn't baseball with a batting order!"

"Haven't you ever wanted to be with twins?"

"Of course I have." Any man that didn't was secretly pleading the fifth. "But that doesn't mean I want to be the heroine of a Lifetime movie." He watched Betty and Lisa look at each other. "Thinking I'm with one person, who's really two."

"Now that you know, how about having us together?"

Her sister spoke. "Won't always be like that. One of us will have to leave from time to time."

"I'm going for a walk."

He'd been gone for several hours, mostly sitting under a tree, when he spotted her. "Betty. Lisa?"

"You were right the first time. Mind if I sit?"

He shrugged assent.

"We're sorry. I don't want to lose you and neither does Lisa. Consider who trained us to be human." She stood and offered her hand.

Max accepted it and let her half pull him up. He liked Betty. And Lisa. Did he love both of them, or half-love each? He was too confused for such questions.

It was a somber meal they shared. He used to like Chef Boyardee. He let his spoon clink in the empty bowl. "I think I'll go to bed." There was only the one couch.

"We won't guilt you into sleeping with us, but we'd really rather sleep with you."

"Lisa?" The other one nodded. He was going to have to try harder to keep them straight. "Okay, but you figure out which one is sleeping on what side." He went into the bedroom pulling out the sleep-pants, a t-shirt and even a pair of socks. Dressed, he got into the bed. He flipped the covers back on either side. Why was he feeling debauched? He pretended to be asleep when Betty and Lisa came in to change.

"Night, Max." She kissed his cheek.

"Sleep well, Max." She kissed the other cheek.

"Good-night, Betty. Good-night Lisa." He should have told them to tell him which side they picked. Sleep came hard.

Morning arrived early. He caught the hands teasing just under his shirt-hem and waistband. He rose into the kiss from the left and was tilted into a kiss from the right. Max freed their hands and slipped his arms around Betty and Lisa. Somehow two mouths could be in more than twice as many places as one. He let his hands follow them around.

He dropped them and pushed up. They were both mouthing his nuts and nuzzling his cock. Max fell back. He couldn't watch that way. He cricked his neck and quickly wadded the pillows behind to prop him up. He moaned as one gave up, only for the other to take him in her mouth to the root.

"It's okay, Max." She kissed him in time with and in counterpoint to her sister's labors.

It was fantastic and over too fast. "Which--" It was hard catching his breath around someone else's tongue. "you is which?" They just smiled at him. The one by his legs got up and went into the bathroom. "I'm keeping an eye on you."

They waited him out, not letting him know which was which until he'd been distracted. "I'm going to know when you do that again."

"Guess we just won't then."

Max looked at them. Lisa was having him on. He looked to Betty to relent. He looked back at Lisa. "I'm on to you. This is a feint."

He kept with one or the other all that day, knew who was on which side when they went to sleep and did the same the next day. Lisa blew him the following night.

He was lying between Betty on her back and Lisa half under him on her front the next night. He moved onto his side. "Betty, may I have you?"

"Always."

Max reached over her. He got the jar out of the drawer. "Like this." She pulled him down for a protracted kiss. He greased up, breaking the kiss to get in position. He thrust in slowly, aware of Lisa watching. Nuzzling his shoulder, stroking his side. He was still holding the jar. "Lisa." He rested his forehead against Betty's. "Take me."

He found his head tilted toward her, being given a slow kiss. The jar was taken. He focused on Betty, but tensed at the pressure at his hole. Finger. Just a finger. He pumped into Betty, the finger slipping a bit deeper or shallowly in turns. He pushed it deeper a few times with his out strokes. It moved easily.

Bigger than a finger pushed him back into Betty. Pulled out drawing him from Betty. Two pairs of hands were at his hips, guiding him in and on. He only moved between his knees and midspine. And his jaw.

Excruciating pleasure built and burst from deep inside. It shot into Betty and clenched around Lisa. He couldn't tolerate, he craved, the tattoo Lisa beat on his ass. He was never going to get his dick back from Betty. Max passed out.

He was alone when he woke up. He rolled over. "Shouldn't have done that." As he got used to it, Max moved to feel the twinge again. Sitting up was a more uncertain proposition. He attempted it when he smelled, or rather heard, food. Eggo's.

As it was, they came to him. "Lisa?" He looked between them, still unable to tell them apart.

"Can't we both be Betty this morning?" She smiled at him.

"You might be sore at Lisa." She was sympathetic.

"From Lisa. I'llwanttodoitagainbutnotreallysoon."

"Then we're both Lisa." She smiled at her twin. They both kissed him.

Max shook his head, and ate a bite of waffle. "You won't say that when I'm ready." Felt good to joke about that. He would be in a few days.

He resumed learning about the sensors. They'd found a new equilibrium. A little odd, but then what was new? He looked at the bank of readouts that hadn't been mentioned. They appeared to be registering medical data. Strange. He went back to the ones he knew best.

When he got home he was surprised to find only one there. "Lisa?" She smiled. He was getting better. "Where's Betty?"

"Mission."

"Ah." He really didn't want to know much about that. Probably couldn't stay that way, but while it lasted he was willing to leave it at that. "I'll make dinner."

The whole evening felt off, and it was even stranger turning in. He didn't know what made them individuals. Now it seemed wrong going to bed with just one.

"Max?" She sat on the bed, very close to him. "You know it's going to be just one of us most of the time. I thought that's what you preferred?"

"Just seems like cheating."

"It's not a game. Betty wants you to be happy, regardless which of us is or are here." She got up and went to the dresser.

"Lisa. About sleeping in the nude, that go for you too?"

"You wouldn't mind?"

"You've had everything I've got to offer. Barndoors and horses."

She stripped. It still amazed him how beautiful she, they both were, was. All of her, them. He'd had that inside him. He didn't think he could do that, on its own.

"Max?" She touched his arm. "Going to join me?

He stripped. Fair was fair. He got under the covers. Somehow he ended up in her arms, pressed full length against her. Length to length.

"Good-night, Max."

"Good-night, Lisa."

He didn't stay asleep, though he was maybe only half awake. Kissing was good, soft skin was good. He kissed and was kissed. His hips rocked and there was responding friction. Strange, but good too. He held her tight, pulled her breasts and hips close. So good. She was strong.

Max was close and getting closer. He thrust faster, ran his hands from her head, down her neck, clutched her shoulders. He rubbed his face between and over her breasts. Close. Needed this, needed her. She wanted him. How she wanted him! She tipped over, and with just a few more thrusts he gave and gave.

The hair stroking was nice. He didn't want to move. It was early. There was, what was that smell? A faint noise. Max untangled himself and turned on the light. "Lisa!"

She had sizzling wounds spread over her chest, round and oval in stripes. He looked around, confused for a course of action. He tugged on her hand.

"Max?" She looked down at the burns, smiling slightly. "I'll wash up. Stay put." She got up and turned at the bathroom door. "Right back."

Come. They were come trails and they'd eaten into her flesh just like his blood. They'd been swallowing that shit, and he'd been pounding it into their recesses. Max hugged his knees to himself on the bed.

He flinched when she touched his shoulders. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Max. This is nothing. Not nothing. Look at me."

The spots were shiny and pink, coins of healing skin. Some from a mad minter. He traced around the edge of one, it looked like a perfectly formed heart. What were the chances? He lifted his eyes to meet hers.

"Only because they're from you are they not nothing. I've taken bullets. I'll take them again. Let me get you cleaned up."

Max hopped off the bed. He stared at her chest. Now the marks were white, just tint on tint with her skin, like old scars.

"They don't last. Take your shower." She kissed him and stripped the bed.

He scrubbed himself hard, almost raw. "Should have known. Should have figured." Finally he turned off the water, got out and toweled off. He really could have hurt someone. What was this doing to water quality? He opened the door. "You should have said something."

"Examples? I, Betty, like you any way we can have you. Down our throat, up our ass or splattered across our chest, we want you. Love stings and that's how you know you're alive, not just someone's killing machine."

"Isn't there something--"

"You don't need to fix this. It's transitory, and we like it."

Max's eyes went wide.

"Humans have been eating chili peppers and playing with melted wax for as long as they've had either. Don't worry about it." She kissed him, pulling him into an embrace when he didn't resist. Stroked up the backs of his thighs, the swell of his ass and along his spine.

Max surrendered. One hand rubbed over the jutting vertebra while the other lazed over her curves. Maybe things didn't need to make sense any longer. He had twin engineered invasion soldiers that loved his caustic hybridized spunk. He loved her breasts, their breasts. He nudged his pelvis into hers. He was getting used to that. He'd taken it, he'd take it again. Betty's first.

He was tipped into the bed. She wanted him. He lifted into the kiss, his lips tracing up her cheek and into her hair. Max arched into her mouth on his nipple. He dropped when she abandoned it, only to rise from the other side. He was filling. So good. "You just changed the sheets."

"That's why I'm..." Her sentence ended with her mouth around Max's cock. She stroked his belly, held him down and took her languorous time.

He should stop her. He should. He couldn't. She was going to assimilate his cellular diversity and resistance was futile. He wanted it. He wanted to shoot. He knew it would burn her and he didn't care. He shouldn't want it. He loved her and he wanted to come. It was starting, he could feel it in his balls. So hard. He should pull her away. His hands clutched her head. He came.

"Lisa?" She was leaning over him, hand at her mouth.

"Hurts so good." She lay down beside him, the hand from her mouth over his head, the other on his chest.

"I should--"

"I saw, I swallowed, I came." She stroked his chest like it was a cat.

He reached down and found sticky proof. Not very different, from before that was. He put his fingers in his mouth before he could think about it. Gross, but he'd live. He looked down. That would take some time. She turned off the lamp and he went to sleep.

In a few days it was Betty he came home to. He knew he owed her, but without Lisa to be lost in he couldn't imagine taking it up the ass. He sat on the bed early, figuring she deserved an explanation with the raincheck. She followed him in.

"Max, are you feeling okay?"

"Ican'tgiveyoumyass." Why couldn't he be more subtle than that?

"That's all that's bothering you?" She kissed him. "I don't want it until you're ready." She undid one of his buttons. "Use mine instead." She undid the top of his jeans.

He clutched her wrists. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Max. You couldn't hurt me." She kissed him. "Not unless you said no."

He leaned his head on her shoulder. "Which way do you want it?" Did he want to watch her, searching her face for pain, or on her knees, pretending he wasn't hurting her? "From behind. Can I have you from behind?" She pulled him from the bed, kissed and stripped him. He was hard and leaking when she let him go and stretched out on the bed.

Max got out the jar. He unscrewed the lid and scooped out a good glob. He got the lid back on and smeared the vaseline over his dick. He was sick, but he got on the bed, straddling her long legs. He smoothed his still oily finger over the pucker. It slid in with only a little pressure. He circled inside.

He was stalling. He pulled his finger out and replaced it with his dick in a single long stroke. He watched himself pull out and slide back in. It was hypnotic, the sounds Betty made were entrancing. Betty. He covered her back, kissed her neck, the tops of her shoulders. He slipped his hand under hers and clasped her cock. He synchronized the motions.

He wanted it to last forever. He didn't want her burning inside. It was too much, too much heat and friction. He was too eager even with knowing. His balls drew up, and his seed rushed out, spreading inside her. "Sorry." He whispered it over and over.

She held his hands, nuzzling the higher one. "Don't be, Max. Shhush, shush." She murmured to him until he fell asleep.

He'd felt her get up earlier, unavoidably since he had still been balanced on her back. He grabbed some clothes and went into the kitchen.

"You're up." She slid a pancake onto a stack.

"Betty."

"We'll talk over breakfast. Take the syrup in?" She smiled as Max grabbed the carrier, then ferried juice and glasses. She added the final pancake and brought the two plates to the table.

"What did you want to say?" She looked at Max, buttering her pancakes and pouring syrup.

"I can't do this anymore. I can't inflict that on you. I should go."

"I miss you when I have to be away. Worry, despite knowing my sister is looking after you. You'd take that comfort from me. You'd deny me your body and your kindness. That's what you'd be inflicting. I don't fear pain because it doesn't last. It's inconsequential. Your leaving would always remain."

Max cut and stabbed at his pancakes. "Damned if I do, damned if I don't."

"They seem worse to you than they feel to me. I have no proof to give you, Max. Hickeys!"

Max looked up in confusion.

"Have you ever given or received a hickey?"

"That was Lisa." A bit louder he said, "Yes."

"Why? You like them?"

Max smiled, lost in contemplation. "What?"

Betty stroked his hand. "They're bite-induced hematomas, localized blood pooling."

"But--"

"More transitory, but still done in passion, with love. Means matter, Max. Sometimes they justify the ends." She set to eating in earnest.

Max chewed it over with his breakfast. He thought about it while he checked sensor logs. He was still uncertain that evening.

"Betty?" She turned from the stove, anticipatory, encouraging.

"I'll stay. I don't want to go. I just, I can't, I need more time."

He turned in early after supper, dressing as completely for bed as he could. He was still wide awake when Betty slid in beside him, grunted as she rubbed his shoulders.

"You're tense." She worked at his knots through the fabric. Betty guided him onto his front, continuing the massage. She turned him when he was loose from nape to Achilles', and sat on his pelvis. She massaged one and then the other arm from fingertip to elbow.

Max struggled to shift her off, finding it only gave certain parts of him the wrong idea. He moaned as she stroked his neck, dug into his shoulders, gripped his biceps.

"Can I take off your shirt?"

He nodded, mouth too dry to speak. He was not getting aroused. He rolled his hips involuntarily. He wasn't. She rubbed his chest and sides, then dismounted. He moaned in loss.

Betty worked over his feet, finding nerves he didn't even know about. Calves, further and further up his thighs, inching back over him. Her hands were so far up that if he weren't hard she'd be touching his dick. Instead Max just wanted her to stop ignoring it. He was not going to come. Not on Betty.

She sat on the very tops of his thighs and leaned over him, lips less than an inch from his ear. "What if I do it? If I take you in my body, ride your penis until you come. You'd only be watching. Just an observer."

He worried the hem of her nightgown, stroking the pale thigh. He shouldn't. He was going to come. One way or another he would. He bit his lip, closed his eyes and assented. She leaned over and he got a good display of her breasts.

She crouched and skinned off Max's pants, before she kneeled up and stripped out of her nightgown.

Max didn't understand how she'd slicked and sunk down on him so quickly.

"Breathe, Max. In, out. In, out." She demonstrated as she spoke.

Was anything as sexy as her breathing, deeply impaled on him? He didn't think he'd survive it. She was hard. He couldn't ignore that in this position, with it right there where he could see. He'd touched it before. In his throes, in the dark.

Betty moved, lifting from his dick only to slide back down. She bobbed with the motion, breasts and cock swaying slightly with their inertia. She felt good. He wasn't hurting her. Yet. He wouldn't until he came.

She went rigid and his tension melted. She did it again, and again. It fascinated Max.

"You do that to me." She rolled her hips from side to side, back and forth. She started to rise and sink.

Dying. Max was dying because nothing could be this intense and not be fatal. He couldn't keep from looking at her cock; no matter how many times he looked away he came back to it. He would take it in his ass. He owed Betty that. Would mean fucking Lisa. He wanted to kiss her, but she was riding him erect, like she was taking fences. Especially exciting jumps. He was making her look like a book cover illustration. He was losing it. She was beautiful, writhing on him. He wanted to kiss, wanted to move, wanted to stroke her to completion. He braced his hands on her thighs. He was about to come and he needed to see, needed to watch her.

She made him come, and he poured up and up into her. Her head thrown back at an exceptional angle, her breasts heaved. Hot wet splatters hit him on the chest, chin and belly. He expected tears but she was arched back like a bow, nipples arrowed at the ceiling. Coming. He reached for Betty's cock and milked it, spurts spilling low. He studied it, its texture, the play of skin.

Betty leaned over him, kissed him. Finally. He clutched her head, kneaded his hand in her hair, holding her to him.

"Am I getting that back?" She eased Max's hand from her softening extremity and pulled his lax arm up. Eye contact established she licked each of his fingers clean, riding the aftershocks.

Max felt his jaw fall but couldn't figure how to shut it. When did his fingers get crosswired with his dick? That he was still inside Betty might contribute. He should pull out but she had him pinned. "Bett."

"You're not hurting me. Could you see that?" She gathered him close, kissed away his tears. "It's okay, Max, it's okay."

Two days later they were joined by Lisa. Max was ambivalent about that. He loved her, he knew he loved them both desperately. He hadn't premeditated giving his ass the first time, and it made him nervous now. He still wasn't sure how he felt about filling her with his caustic spew, even after Betty's demonstration. The combination had him feeling unwell.

He was surprised when lunch was chicken and stars. He looked between them, wondering which of them had thought of it. They'd kept mum about who had been whom before they'd ended up in bed with him simultaneously. He smiled when they sat across from him and ate. They smiled back. It would work. In all its genre-bending, improbable weirdness it worked.

Afternoon passed quickly into evening, Betty and Lisa working on the computer and him cooking. They could be Madison Avenue's perfect consumers, based on the pantry. He looked around the kitchen. Or poster girls for the Greens.

Somehow during dinner they slid from being across from him to sitting on either side. Imperceptibly. He could have sworn he'd started on the left. They finished eating and he found himself the baton in a kissing relay. He sat up, realizing they had made it to the bedroom and he'd been lying down. Wow.

He looked between them, uncertain which was Lisa and which Betty. He knew that largely had to do with the weeks they'd swapped back and forth without his knowledge. Honestly, it excited him. Shouldn't, but it did. He was going to do it tonight. "Betty, Lisa, IwanttogiveBettymyasscanIcomeinyouLisa?" Smooth.

They resumed kissing him, working him out of his clothes and shedding their own. Apparently they didn't care about subtlety, or score down for its lack. He latched onto one and then the other and back again. He pulled back for breath. "Which of you is Lisa?" Embarrassing. He let himself be pulled forward.

"I am." She lay back on the bed in display, lifting her legs like a 1950s pinup, one straight and the other bent. She ran the bent one up, bending the other. She lifted her hips and did the splits.

Betty closed Max's mouth and fisted his cock with vaseline. Coated he moved forward, fitting between Lisa's legs. He reached down and pressed against her hole. He wasn't even in all the way before Betty slid a finger into him. Then he quickly was.

She pulled back and he followed, then pumped back into Lisa. He tried not to overthink Betty behind him and focused on Lisa, rocking in and out. Betty's cock replaced her fingers on the in stroke, shoving him deeper and pitching him forward.

Lisa caught him, kissing him slow and long. Betty pulled him back and slid almost-out, slid back into Max and pushed him into Lisa. They oscillated with a smooth two-part stroke. Intense. The friction flowed, into his ass and down his cock, up his cock and out his ass. Molten. Breasts fore and aft cushioned him, heat and pressure enveloped him in a sexual cocoon.

He needed more. Too measured, too easy; Max burrowed into Lisa as Betty pulled back, reared out as she pushed forward. He roiled between them, churned. Slapping, pounded, he was tossed on building dissonance, surging higher and deeper. Couldn't last. Needed it, tried to hold on. Was dragged, thrown into climax. Flumed.

He sprawled on Lisa, docked between her folded legs. Betty was stroking into him still, jerky, jagged thrusts pushing him tighter into Lisa. He felt the hitch of Betty's completion, her weight as she foundered along his back. Last time he hadn't been aware when Lisa finished.

He felt them rolling, the skin of his chest pulling unstuck from Lisa's. Her legs dropped from his sides.

She kissed him as she sat up, lifted and dismounted. Max squirmed with loss and Betty wrapped her arms around him.

"Be right back." Lisa flipped on the bathroom light and closed the door.

Betty was still in him. It wasn't bad but intensely weird, lying pillowed on her breasts, with one of her hands ghosting over his balls. He was more than half asleep when Lisa returned to sponge him off and curled against his front. He felt Betty pull out and get out of bed but never heard the shower.

He woke alone. He got out of bed ignoring the aches of hard loving and made his morning ablutions. He dried after his shower and pulled on pants and shoes. He wondered where Lisa and Betty were. There were no sounds coming from the kitchen. Maybe only virgins rated breakfast in bed.

Max sat in the booth, dropping harder than he would have liked considering the night before. He still had his head on the table when a hand landed on his shoulder. He popped like a springloaded weasel.

"Just me, Max." She sidled beside him and draped her arm over his back.

"Lisa? Betty?"

"She had to go for awhile. You okay, Max?"

"Probably not. Which one are you?" He wasn't in the mood for their game.

"Betty."

"I liked it. Too much."

"That's good, isn't it?" She held him when it was clear it wasn't. "Max."

"I shouldn't like getting fucked that much. I do. I'm going to want to do it differently. With Lisa; it's going to be a three-person endeavor still. I felt you come."

"I'd hope so." She kissed him. "Can you explain the problem?"

"No." Max shook his head against her shoulder. "Where'd Lisa go?"

"Better if you don't know. It may be awhile before she's back." She let him go when he turned, and got up. She brought back bowls of cereal.

Max didn't take sensor readings that day, instead trying to lose himself in a book. It didn't work well, and he wasn't sure what the storyline was even by page 100. He was surprised when Betty came in and changed into a nightgown. "Is it late?" He didn't bother with a bookmark.

"What do you need, Max?" She got on the bed, tracing a line on the flannel shirt he'd put on.

"I need to be human again. I need there to not be an alien invasion." He sank into her offered arms. "I love you, love you both. I never expected this. I want to go home but I'm dead and have been for seven years. So much has happened. What all did they do to me?"

She held him, stroking his hair.

The next day was better. Max figured that everything had piled up and, since so much was out of his control, he'd fixated on something he could. Not really, since he had no intention of leaving Betty and Lisa. Loving them was loving them, so whatever they did or didn't do couldn't change who he was. It felt good. He could admit that. He wanted to do it again. He did want that. Imagining doing it with just Lisa or Betty however freaked him out.

He smiled when he saw Betty in the doorway, breath hitching at the sultry stance she took. His blood pooled in readiness. She walked towards him, leaning down once she reached the bed. Anything. Was never leaving.

"I should check that swelling." She slowly moved in for a kiss, savoring Max's mouth. His neck was next. She undid one and then another shirt button as she moved further and further down.

"Swelling?" He could hardly speak for the suction she was applying below his ribs. His hips moved trying to attract attention. He fell back on his arms when she finally found his zipper. Max arched into the heat and pressure. He concentrated and threw a leg over her shoulder.

An eternity, an instant passed while she took him with her mouth. Thorough, slow drags and torturous slides wound him past breaking point and kept sending him higher. He wanted to come, he wanted it to last forever. He got his desire and he spilled, gushed, pumped into her.

Max limply let her pull him fully onto the bed, content when she stretched out beside him. More than content when she kissed his face. Boneless. His hand darted for hers, stilling it on her length. With difficulty he rolled and slithered halfway down the bed, lowering his face onto her belly. It was hard, her cock, hot against his face. He slipped his tongue out, touching the tip to hers. Pressed a kiss to it. Licked tentatively. She was vibrating with tension and it was intoxicating, inspiring. He closed his lips around the head, surprised as it slid deeper and deeper inside. He swallowed. It jerked and he scrambled away.

He looked at it, then up at Betty, her eyes screwed shut. He looked back down, gulping. He leaned down, glancing up and taking the head again. His mouth filled with her and he started to bob. Belatedly he thought to roll his lips over his teeth. He moved his tongue experimentally and her hips jumped. He put it together. His mouth filled and he swallowed desperately, unable to pull away.

Max found himself being kissed. Something tasted weird in his mouth. Betty. He pushed her back, trying to look at her. She just kissed him again. He must have done okay.

The next time he thought he did better, more like they blew him. He felt bad that he didn't miss Lisa more, that he spent so many nights being blown, taking or blowing Betty. It was like it had been at first, though he knew they'd both been Betty then. He'd let Lisa have him. Might do it a few times if Betty didn't have to go right away.

Lisa came back. He found them both huddled around the computer. He looked between them. He really should be able to distinguish between them by now.

"Lisa." He smiled when she looked up and he walked over to her. Max leaned down and kissed her in welcome. Tonight. He'd be getting it tonight. His ass clenched in anticipation.

Lisa held his hip, thumb teasing Max. "You're happy to see me." Her thumb kept moving. "Or is that a rabbit in your pocket?" She looked at him in confusion when he started giggling.

Max tried to regain control. "Normally, rabbits are pulled from hats, not asses."

She smiled, still confused. "People pull ideas out of their ass."

"Plans. Plans are pulled out of asses." He smiled at the easy inanity.

"What if I have plans for your rabbit?"

Max tried not to think of a pink bunny with a drum. He failed. He shook his head, the mood lost. He chewed his lip. "I was thinking more your rabbit, my ass." He tensed as her hands slid to cup his backside. He sighed as she stood, pulling herself against him. He moaned into her mouth. He added, when she broke the kiss, "I've got another trick I'd like to show you first." He looked at Betty. It'd been different last time. Now he was making the first move, and only on one.

"She's earned it, Max. Give her hell."

He laughed at the misused quote. Couldn't place it, or figure out where Betty had heard it, but there was no way it meant this. He was surprised when Lisa picked him up and started walking.

She put his feet back on the floor in the bedroom. "What trick did you want to show me?"

Max licked his lips and thumbed up the hem of her top. He slid his hands up her sides and pulled the sweater from her arms. He smiled at the confectionary bra as he kissed the tops of her breasts. He stopped her hands behind her back. "Leave it on."

He dropped his hands to her waist and guided her beside the bed. He unbuttoned her slacks and went down on his knees. Max kissed her thighs as he eased the fabric down, and then at the insides of her knees. She stepped free and kicked the clothes aside. He looked back up, at the vein framed in her cleavage. He swallowed, rose and folded his lips over his teeth. He went down on her.

Lisa's hands clutched his head and she dropped onto the bed. Max struggled to follow fast enough. He frantically pulled back for air, but he couldn't budge her hands. He swallowed, fighting to breathe. Her hands freed him and he flew back gasping. He glared at Lisa.

She was utterly lost. He swallowed, aroused by her abandon. She tilted her head down blinking at him. Max clasped her hands and put them on the bed one after the other, leaning his weight over them. Aroused but not stupid. He dove and took her into his mouth again, sliding up and down mercilessly fast. He sucked voraciously and Lisa came.

Lisa hauled Max onto the bed, kissing sense back into him. He blinked as she drew back, now braless. He arched as she slurped down his dick. Max streamed into her. He dropped back to the bed as she let him slip free, spent.

"I liked your trick." Lisa toyed with Max's hair. She smiled as he traced over her breasts. She rolled and straddled him, giving him better access. She threw her neck back at the attention to her nipples. She looked down when the stimulation ceased. She kissed his forehead. "Sleep tight." Lisa lay down on him and closed her eyes.

Max woke up, wondering what he was doing in bed half-dressed. He heard the shower turn off and looked at the door in time to see... one of them, come out drying her hair.

"Hungry?"

He looked at the bedroom door, where the other one stood. He glanced back and forth between them slowly. He hadn't really paid much attention to what Betty had been wearing and couldn't tell if it was the same.

"Need to keep up your strength." The naked one folded her towel into a turban and slipped on a robe. A very short robe with a deep neck.

Max got up and followed them. The Ricearoni he recognized, but it took him time to determine it was deviled ham she'd added. He fell into easy flirting with both of them, for the moment not concerned with which was which. He figured that didn't matter until one of them was about to take his ass. Which he planned on after dinner.

They were both stroking his inner thighs just above the seam of the jeans. He shifted, trying to get a bit more room for developments.

"Who's the rabbit for?" They said it in unison, and Max moaned. He scrambled to eat the last bites on his plate. It was time for some serious relocation. Betty and Lisa took their time finishing, stringing him along. Finally they got up, the dressed one pulling him along while her sister bussed the plates.

They kissed while stripping. The other one joined them in the bedroom, dropping her robe and pressing against him. They turned him back and forth between them. He grabbed one around the waist, the one that had come out of the shower. Her hair was nearly dry; he wouldn't have been able to tell that way much longer.

"What's your name?"

"Betty."

He kissed her deeply. "I thought I'd let Lisa have me first if I can give it to you."

"Take me anytime you want."

They didn't get into bed right away, though he wasn't sure how he was able to stand, with the way they caressed and laved him. They slid around him, sucking his cock for just a stroke or two, dipping slick fingers in his ass. He hardly noticed getting on the bed and being coated. He sank into Betty, her legs hooking over his back.

Lisa penetrated him. He kissed Betty as Lisa kept sliding in with one protracted stroke. He was sandwiched between them, breasts on his back and under his chest. She withdrew and sped up on the return. Max tried to move, but Betty held him tight. He sank into being fucked.

"Yes!" Lisa had hit something and Betty couldn't stop him from thrusting. Lisa kept doing it and he kept pistoning. She was hard under him, arching, clenching around him, shoving up at him. It was chaotic slamming, him into Betty, Lisa into him. It couldn't last, it had always been, it was fantastic and beyond belief.

He came first, shooting hard into Betty. Lisa pulled him back, muscles loose though he was still hard in Betty, and took him with fast staccato thrusts. She came, Max feeling the contractions in her cock, and slumped over him. Betty came in thick stripes and Max was falling.

He tried, after an an eternity of receding pleasure, to prop himself up. Lisa and Betty resisted and he relented. They kept shifting just enough so that he and Lisa stayed hard. He drifted in a sensual haze.

He woke to a very slow loving that resolved all too soon as Lisa and then he came again and she finally slipped out. He gasped at the loss of Lisa against his shoulders, sighing as he was rolled onto his back, wearing Betty. He could feel they were stuck together.

"I want to have you this way. On your back, watching you getting it."

Max groaned just thinking about it. Watching Betty as she took him, the idea was searing. Lisa returned with a hot washcloth and managed to uncement them. She leaned down and kissed Max, getting into bed beside him.

In the morning Max found himself in a very cramped shower between Betty and Lisa. He still couldn't figure out Betty's idea, given that he wanted both of them when he was fucked. Lisa riding him while Betty took him put them too far from him. He wondered if he could be fucked from behind while lying on his back. Still different, but Betty riding him had been great.

"This for me?" She looked up from toweling his legs. She kissed just the tip, wrapping her lips around it.

He had a sudden thought of being pushed against the wall and fucked while the other kneeled and sucked him down. He got harder, hips jerking. He slid into the wet mouth.

He whimpered when the heat was removed and moaned when he looked down, another mouth descending on his dick. They were taking turns, revving him closer, spinning him out. Max roulette.

He went off. The other quickly stood and kissed him hard. He wanted to be fucked, like this, sucked, plundered and put to the sword. He kept coming, and his mouth was tonguefucked. He found himself being laid down on fresh sheets. He fell asleep wanting to do something about the hard cocks against his sides.

It was hard to know how long he'd slept as there was no clock in the bedroom and he'd never bought a watch. He sat up and got a pair of loungepants out since he was only going to be undressed sooner or later. He found them in the kitchen making- it had to at least be brunch. He carried what was ready to the booth and put out plates.

Both kissed him when they came to the table, kisses of comfort and not incitement. One sat next to him and the other across. "Betty wants something tomorrow but I'm not sure how to give it to her." He drank from his juice.

"Unsure?" "I want Lisa too, but not between us." He didn't address it to either, uncertain which was which.

"How does Betty want you?" The one next to him asked.

"On my back." He missed their exchanged glance.

"I'll tell you my idea tomorrow."

Max woke early and spent hours wondering what Lisa had in mind. "I think we better do this sooner than later."

"You sure you want this, Max?"

"Nothing that I don't do to you." He relaxed into the double-sided hug. "Lisa?"

"Right behind you. I'm going to hold you while Betty slides into you. Cock and breasts against your back while you look at the ceiling."

Betty said nothing and they went back into the bedroom. Clothes were stripped off and fingers probed into him. He wanted it, wanted to be fucked, didn't care which did the honors. They could tagteam him. He was on the bed, on Lisa, trying to scoot up and impale himself on the heat against his back. Betty grabbed his legs and hooked them over her shoulders, sliding deep fast.

He wasn't going to last, Betty was slick and plunging into him. Would have moved him halfway up the bed without Lisa holding him. She was hitting whatever it was that made him feel so good, Lisa's fist pumping him in counterpoint. He came hard.

He tried to move when he smelled it, legs slipping from her shoulders. "Betty!" She had burns from one cheek, down her neck, between her breasts and past her ribs. He noticed Lisa was also marked on her arms wrapped around him. "Lisa!" Max couldn't believe he'd forgotten about this. His burning jizz.

Betty leaned down and kissed him. "You're glorious."

"Sorry, Max. I know you don't like seeing it." Lisa still held him tight. "It just doesn't mean what it would if we were simply sapiens."

He thought they should at least be flushing the wounds with water. "This is why you don't kiss me after a blow job." He wanted to puke. He fought it, pinned to Lisa and Betty's cock still in him.

Betty wiped at the come marks, revealing nearly healed flesh. The edge of her hand bubbled until she wiped it on her thigh. "A little smelly. Untidy." She pulled out carefully. "Am I going to have to settle for seeing that only when my sister is deep in you?" Betty kissed him thoroughly and got off the bed.

Lisa slipped out from under Max and gently repinned him by the shoulders. "I know it smells and looks worse, but consider it as an option, Max." She got out of bed.

Max accepted, reluctantly, that he couldn't deny them just because it reminded him of what he'd been doing to them all along. No more than he'd been able to give them up when he'd first realized. He could stand the smell and sight of it from time to time. Lisa and Betty didn't call him on it, and for that he was grateful.

He was surprised that they'd both been with him for such an extended time. He hoped he wasn't compromising the fight against the future, distracting them with his angst. At least he had spent most of his brooding time checking readings.

He'd expected to have the last bank of sensors explained eventually, but having mastered the others, these still hadn't been mentioned. This much he did know; whatever they tracked had been changing over the months.

Betty left for a time and returned and then Lisa went away. It took time for him to adjust to just having one of them around.

He was checking readings when Lisa came back. Twice. The first one had come in, inquired how things had been going, looked at the unexplained sensor bank and walked out. The next one appeared about an hour later, dressed differently and just as unfamiliar with what he'd been doing as the first.

He looked at the sensors and back at Lisa. He was being paranoid, but they were clones. "What's that bank for?"

She smiled. "Surprised it took you so long to ask. Want to see?" She held out her hand.

Max took it and stood. He'd just misunderstood. Or, Betty was playing some sort of game. He was led out the way the 'first Lisa' had gone. There was a door that was flush with the wall; he couldn't see it until she opened it.

The room inside was a very bright yellow. He noticed that it wasn't one flat color but was built up of sections that ran around the room in bands. The floor was set with a number of brass drains. There were three large ovoid cylinders about eight and a half feet tall and four feet in diameter.

The other Lisa stepped out from behind the furthest cylinder. She greeted her sister, "Betty."

She seemed surprised to see him. Max wondered which was playing the game. "What are they?" He stepped closer to one of the tanks. There was a band of readouts at about a meter up, that looked similar to the ones in the other room. Awkward to read. The tanks were laced with circuitry and tubes. He circled this one, staring at the opened shutters. Inside there were red sacks, about eighteen inches across, bobbing in clear fluid. Something was moving inside the bags. He looked at Betty and Lisa.

"Wombs with views." The one that had been working closed the shutters and stepped to another cylinder. She opened the shutters on that one, smiling at Max.

Max started over, confused, when the door opened again. He was staring at Betty. He watched her expression as she saw the two Lisas. He looked between the three. "What is this room and how many of you are there? What are you planning?" The sacks were red. He kept repeating that to himself in his head.

"They're our children."

Max was relieved that she seemed only to be including her sisters in that 'our'. He strode over to the tank with open shutters.

"These are the youngest." Inside, eight melon sized, dark pink sacks floated.

"Eight?" He looked at the three supersoldiers. "How many of you are there? Is this how you started?"

The second Lisa answered. "We came out of a much larger tank. They sluiced us with cold water after decantation. We could hardly stand."

Eight. There were eight placentas in the tank. He hadn't been able to count them in the first one. If they were twins...

She caught Max before he could fall. His eyelids blinked open.

"How many of you are there?" He watched them look at each other. "I want the truth. The whole truth this time." He knew he'd been making love with them, doubted that they weren't sharing him. He curled up.

"Eight." They'd perfected speaking in unison.

"Eight?!" Max sat up, struggling to stand. "How many of you've had my ass? What are your other names?"

"Libby, Beth, Etta, Bella, Elsa, Liz. I'm Bess." She was the one standing nearest the door.

"That's nine."

"We're all Betty."

Max made it to his knees and struggled to stand. "One for all and all for one. I'm not Maid Marian!"

"We're Betty. We didn't used to have personal names."

Max looked between them and the tanks. "Children? With an invasion coming?"

"They're not leaving without a fight. Now is the time to prepare."

"Just where do I fit in your preparations? Eight of you! You didn't think I'd have a problem with that?!"

"Not in front of the children."

Max was abashed and let himself be guided from the 'nursery' and back into the control room. "What have you been doing to me?"

"Loving you."

"After the reaction I had to Lisa... Are either of you Lisa?"

"Liz." The first 'Lisa' answered.

"Elsa."

Max dropped his face into his hand. "Are you the most recent Betty?" he asked Bess.

"Neither of them are?" Bess looked at her sisters.

"Fubar and snafu all around. Liz came in saying she was Lisa; Elsa didn't say she was, but clearly she wasn't supposed to be Betty; the one that's been with me Bett-- She's not been the same one the whole time she's been 'back', either," he realised suddenly.

"True."

Max looked at Bess suspiciously. "Who's had me?"

"I've not." Elsa replied.

The other two smiled knowingly. One added, "Libby didn't get back until Bella left."

That wasn't helpful. A suspicion came to him. "You don't know." Max searched for a chair while keeping an eye on the three. "You're passing me around like smokes and you don't even know which of you have fucked me."

"Max," Bess reached for him and thought better of it. She half-sat instead. "We've just got back. If we knew everything, Lisa would never have overlapped with Beth in the first place." Then she did reach for Max, clasping the back of his hand.

Max tried to pull his hand free but he couldn't. He shrugged his head away when Elsa tried to stroke his hair. It just delayed her touch.

"I'm sorry Max. If I'd known she was in there--"

"Don't apologize for getting caught!" He shook them off and stood. "Who's the current Betty and is she still in the apartment?"

"I don't know and yes. Unless she's running errands." Bess unfolded from her crouch.

"If Bess hadn't made three, what would you have thought, Max?"

Max stared at Liz. "I'd have thought you were back to the shell game. That one of you was Betty and just pretending to be Lisa." They'd slipped up and still he'd have believed. He wanted to be deceived. "What about you, who would've played Betty? Would you have flipped for it?"

"Possibly. Or I might have dropped into a pocket."

"To be pulled out of my ear later. I'm going back to the apartment."

"Max."

He looked at Bess. "You come with me." Max looked at the others. "You stay here."

He ignored her as much as he could during their walk back. When had she had him? How many times had he had her come in his ass? Max knocked the snow off his boots as he entered, hung up his coat. He wanted to get this over with.

"Max." 'Betty' got up from the computer and went to embrace him. "Lisa. There's time for you to take a hot shower, Max, before dinner."

Max closed his eyes and hung his head. He'd have let them fuck him. "Have you had my ass?"

Bess answered her sister's questioning expression, "He knows. Liz and Elsa were in the nursery with him when I walked in."

"Have-you-fucked-me?"

"I've had you, Max. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I've only been fucked by seven supersoldiers. Potentially. What's your name?"

"Lisa. Max, we love you."

"You pass me around like soap. You've fucked me, Liz has fucked me, Bess has fucked me too. Who else? Have you all fucked me except for Elsa?" He was shaking and he couldn't stop it.

"Max." She hugged him again, releasing Max when he struggled. "Etta's had you. I don't know about Bella, Libby or Beth." She looked at her sister. Lisa asked Max, "Were you fucking us?"

Max whipped around, eyes wide.

"You've taken all of us. That's why I showed up too early and ended up absofuckinglutely last. I wanted you to make love to me. It was worth the wait, Max."

Max stormed into the bedroom and slammed the bathroom door. He scrambled to open it and puke in the toilet. He slumped on the floor until it was clear he had nothing more to vomit. Max turned the sink taps, rinsed his mouth out and cleaned his beard.

He saw them in the door mirror as he exited, peeking through the bedroom curtain. Max turned off the light and lay on the bed, acknowledging neither Bess nor Lisa.

He woke later- at least he thought he'd slept- as the mattress sank. "Haven't you done enough?"

"Max, it's Libby. Talk to me."

"Have you?"

"Max?"

"Haveyoupoundedyourfleshintomybody?"

She smiled wistfully. "No, I haven't had that pleasure."

"Wonder if Beth has. Suppose you and Elsa were going to have me next."

"Possibly. Max." She lay beside him without touching. "We don't huddle trading favor futures. You might not be so hurt if we did."

"Et tu, Libby? Apologizing for getting caught. I'm not the Watergate Hotel."

"I'm sorry we protected your feelings so poorly. You adapted."

"What choice did I have?" He scooted up to sit against the headboard. "I found that I was sleeping with two people not one."

"And now that's cubed."

Max looked at her.

"The only thing that's changed is your perception. There were eight of us when you thought there was one, there were still eight of us once you thought we numbered two. None of us can be here full-time." Libby got off the bed. "Consider it, please, Max." She passed through the curtain.

Max found that after the first night it was strange sleeping alone. As was their new habit of declaring their name anytime he seemed to be looking at them. Finally he left the apartment and went to confront the future.

"Is Elsa still here?" Four of them were stationed around the control room. "Libby?"

"Someone's in the nursery." One of them got up. "Etta." Etta escorted him into the lab and left.

"Hey, there." Maybe this wasn't the best idea. Max shifted his feet nervously. "They thought you might be Elsa or Libby. Don't you keep track?"

"Elsa. Not really." She went to the third tank. "Want to see them?"

Max stepped closer. These were not nearly so round. "Aren't they rather large?" They flexed quite a bit, but they were probably double the volume of the first ones he'd seen. "When are they due?"

"June." She looked at Max. "Are you still going to be here?"

"I'm thinking about it. Elsa, I don't know if I can do this."

"Do this?"

"There are eight of you."

"Always have been."

"I know about it now. And no, that doesn't mean you were right to keep me in the dark. I just-- Have you figured out where Beth is?"

"She's in the other room, why?"

"Beth's the only one Idon'tknowifshe'shadmyassalready."

"Max, do you have something in mind?"

"They're not going to be babies." He looked at the tanks. "You came out of a larger tank."

"Four meters tall and two meters in diameter." She looked at Max's face. "They won't be as cramped at the end."

He was avoiding things. "I'm willing to see if I can accept this. Can you leave?"

"Go talk to Beth. I've got a few things to finish up."

Max went back into the control room. "Beth, may I talk with you?" It was disconcerting to be looking at four identical women and not know which he was addressing. She stood and joined him in a far corner. "Haveyouhadmyass?"

She smiled lopsidedly. "No. How are you, Max?"

"Lonely. Confused. I thought you, Elsa and I could talk."

"Talk."

Max smiled sheepishly. "I'm willing to be convinced this can work." Beth stroked the side of his face with curled fingers. Was there such a great difference between five and eight?

A few hours later they were all three at the apartment, Bella having left in Elsa's coat. Max sat between Beth and Elsa on the couch. Each took one of Max's hands in hers and faced him.

"You said something about talking." Beth leaned in and kissed Max gently. She sat back.

"It's going to work much as it has." Elsa kissed him more lingeringly. "You'll just know who's come back."

Beth kissed behind Max's ear, on the faint scar. "You might be able to have two of us around more often. If you want that."

Max considered that, unable to adjust his jeans with both hands held. "How many of you are generally in town?"

Elsa caressed Max's bearded cheek and turned his head to her. "Right now is anomalous. Occasionally four, two or three is more normal." She kissed his mouth and then his neck. "We've been waiting for your decision."

Max lay back, welcoming Beth's attentions. "You don't feel strange sharing?"

"We can't be around enough individually. You're nice to come home to."

"This way we know you're being loved when we can't be here." Elsa traced along the buttons of Max's shirt. "Let us love you." She kissed him, deepening it when he didn't resist.

Max freed his left hand and turned and cupped Beth's face, pressing a firm, plundering kiss to her mouth. He gasped as Elsa started unbuttoning his shirt, flicking a finger against a nipple. He followed when they got off the couch, letting them guide him into the bedroom. They stripped him, and he tried to free Beth and Elsa from their clothes.

"What do you want, Max?" One of them caressed his thighs and nuzzled the back of his neck.

"You." He opened his eyes. "You." He stepped closer to the bed, looking back at both. "I want you." Max sighed as they pressed back against him, taking him down onto the mattress. Elsa and Beth were stretched along him, swapping his mouth, each undulating on a hip. "I want to be taken." Max paused, thrumming with sensation. "I want to be entered, loved, and only then slide inside." He looked between them, realizing he'd lost track of them again. "Your choice."

The one on his left propped Max up and pulled him to his knees. "Beth should have you." She kissed him, clutching his ass. Elsa took the jar of vaseline from her sister.

Max leaned into Elsa as she prepared him, slid her finger into him and slicked him. His hips were pulled back from Elsa's and Beth's hand squeezed the base of his cock. Elsa stretched him, stroked his prostate. Beth's hands left him and she grabbed the jar.

Elsa pulled out her fingers and Max felt Beth's cock nuzzle against him. He tried to relax, and he looked Elsa in the eyes. Beth pressed forward, rolling at the resistance. Max kissed Elsa and Beth pushed into him slowly.

So slow. He pushed back, slid her in deep. Pulled away as she drew back, met Beth on the return. He rocked, from Beth's and his own motion. Her slick hand wrapped around his cock.

Elsa smiled at Max and kissed him again. She caught his hand and lay back, her cock pointing hard to her heaving breasts. "Got something for me, Max?" She lifted her long legs past her head.

Max slicked a finger from the jar and slipped it into Elsa. Beth had his cock weeping. He replaced the finger with his cock. He moved fast, thrust back and forth, lost himself to pleasure. He'd miss this. Max wanted this. He had it and wasn't letting go. He plunged faster, deeper, pulled almost all the way out, stroked harder into Elsa and slapped Beth against him.

Elsa was beautiful, so very close to her climax, her cock twitching between them. Max thrust into her raggedly, coming, unable to hold on. Spent, he gripped her in his hand.

Beth pumped into him madly. She froze and then plastered herself against his back, going still. His hand clenched and Elsa spurted between them, coating their chests.

Beth was still hard in him and he was still hard in Elsa. Beth lifted up. "Don't," he said. "I like your weight." She sank back onto him and Max sighed. He started to move and Elsa caught him by the neck for a kiss.

"I like yours." Elsa kissed him again. "You're gorgeous when you're taken." She arched her neck as he shimmied in her. "Will compliments get me everywhere?"

"Flattery." Max was very tired, distracted from sleep by the kisses along his spine.

"Not when it's the truth." She bent her knees and dropped her feet onto his back. Max knocked into her a few more times before softening. Elsa kissed him, smiling at his sleepy sounds. She moved her feet and lifted Max, getting her legs out from under him.

Beth held Max, pulled out and laid him on the bed.

Max woke up with two armfuls of Betty. He kneaded his handfuls of cheek. Surprisingly, he wasn't concerned which was Elsa and which was Beth. He'd give himself to Elsa before she had to leave, and he hoped Libby would return soon. Beyond that... Strange. He looked from one to the other. He should feel different. He might feel different once he'd been with each of them as individuals. Now, he was just content.

Max wriggled one arm free and kissed the left-most Betty deep and slow. Pulling his left arm out from under her, Max rolled onto his right side and kissed that Betty awake. He moaned when kisses on his back trailed onto his chest and he was rolled back.

"Beth." She claimed his mouth again. "I like your ass."

"I liked you taking it." Max tipped Beth on her back. He froze at the sudden suction on his neck.

"Max. Go ahead, talk to Beth." Elsa resumed her ministrations.

He swallowed. He sprawled more completely over Beth. What's your ETD? Who's leaving soonest?"

"Etta and Liz already have. I will day after tomorrow."

Max turned his head. "Elsa?"

"I have to check. Might be decoying."

Max tried to look at her, twisting his shoulder around. He found himself flipped over, still lying on Beth. Elsa settled over him, her cock hard against his.

"Not for a couple of days."

Max sank into the hands rubbing his shoulders.

Max woke up alone. Beth had left nearly straight from bed, detouring only for a quick shower and gargle. There hadn't been any taste of dissolved flesh when she'd kissed him on the way out. He got up, used the toilet and started the shower. He thought back to riding Elsa, stroking his flesh as he filled. Beth had kissed and nipped his chest before sucking him off just as Max came. He spilt again, the water carrying it down the drain.

He rinsed, turned off the water and toweled down. He stepped into the bedroom. Betty looked up from making the bed.

"Libby. Max, you look good enough to eat. Someone's started on you already."

Max flushed, having noticed the hickies already. They looked old and deep from their greenish cast. "How long are you staying?"

"Several days." Finished with making the bed, Libby walked over to Max and kissed him. "How about getting dressed? I'll make breakfast." With that Libby slipped from the embrace and through the bedroom curtain.

Max followed in a few minutes, still buttoning his shirt. He found her, surprisingly, making french toast. "How are you, Libby?"

She turned after lifting an eggy slice into the skillet. "Much better now that we still have a chance with you." She returned to tending the food. "Are you happy?"

"That you eight deceived me, no." Max stepped closer. "That you found me, yes." He pressed against her and wrapped his hands around her. "That you want me, yes. Yes. Eight times." He moaned as she rolled her hips. "Very happy."

Libby slipped her left hand into Max's back pocket. "Take the fork." Utensil handed off she put her right into his other hip pocket, pulling him tight against her. "You make me happy too, Max." Eventually she took the fork back. "Set the table while I finish."

Max was amazed he survived breakfast; Libby wasn't content just to play footsie with him but also gave him footrubs under the table. Finished, she pulled him from the booth.

"I'd thought we'd go for a walk, but now I'd rather ride." She propelled Max towards the bedroom. She stripped him out of his clothes slowly, kissing him sporadically. Shoulder, rib, forearm. Thigh, knee, navel. She retreated when Max started being too rough with her clothes.

Max fell onto the bed, bouncing. He looked to the end of the bed, swinging his legs up. Libby stripped. Teased. Hinted. Revealed flesh beneath fabric, only to hide it again by her pose. She lowered her angled leg, finally displaying her turgid cock.

Max pulled up his legs, then thought better of it and started rolling to his knees, until Libby captured one. She kissed him deep and lingeringly.

"I want to ride." She sat and then her mouth was working Max's cock.

He didn't have a chance. Too much wetness, heat, pressure and he was pouring down her throat. It took time for him to be able to speak. "Thought you were going to ride."

"Slow. Slow ride and the mount's got to last."

Max went glassy-eyed. Libby licked his shin, sternum, elbow. Whole-body fellatio. He threw his head back, awash in sensation. He ignored, as best as he could, her nuzzling around his refilling cock. Her much cooler hand made him open his eyes. Just in time to see her sit, taking his flesh inside her. She moved slowly, inch by inch, centimeter by centimeter. Movement so velvet-smooth he thought even the out strokes were in.

Max skimmed his right hand up her thigh, heading for her cock. It was intercepted and relocated to her breast. That was so good he pulled her down onto his chest, earning him several hard strokes against his pelvis.

Even having just come, Max had difficulty holding back. Libby sat back up, pistoning on his cock. Too close. He was going to come again. She was beautiful, breasts heaving, cock waving. Shooting. She was streaming spunk and Max felt his own climax flow.

"Ooohh." Libby was licking him clean while Max tried to pull her down into the mess. He had no success, if getting a post-coital tonguebath while still rooted in Libby could be called unsuccessful.

The walk came after a well-deserved nap. They rambled together, enjoying each other's company. Finally alone in an open field, Max spoke. "They'll be children."

"Yes."

"A lot of children." He wondered when the other sixteen would join the eight of June. "Do you know anything about raising kids?"

"I know how to get them." Libby kissed Max.

Max took her meaning as having gotten the technology, she could figure out the results. Overheard, it would just sound like an invitation. He had more questions, but this was hardly a secure location.

"Do you?"

It took him a moment to process the correct question. "I was one." Libby squeezed his hand gently. He smiled back at her. Okay, that made one of them.

"Will you stay?"

"Be the father of your children?" Twenty-four? Libby caught him as he started to sag. She looked at him questioningly. "Yes, I'll stay." She beamed. A patriarch. Max thought of more questions he couldn't ask here. They continued their walk.

"Do you want me?" Max looked at Libby. They'd had a nice couple of days, and yet he knew it couldn't last. She'd be back to the fight, and he'd be discovering how a rotational relationship really worked.

"In every way, Max." She drained the pasta, colander in one hand. She shook it dry and poured the pasta back into the pan. "What do you want?"

He'd known, once he'd found that three Bettys hadn't had him prior to him learning the full truth, that this might happen. "You're the only one that hasn't had me yet." That he might have a one-on-one situation.

Libby kept working on the alfredo. "Do you want it?"

"I like it. I want you." Max knew he needed to say a bit more, considering how he'd behaved. "Finding I was getting it... That more than the two I believed... It's sorta taboo and with the other stuff--" Max stopped, knowing he wasn't making sense.

"And you still want me to give it to you?" She turned off the stove and turned to him. "I love you, all eight of you and I don't want that sort of distinction between us." Max paused. "I want you to take me."

"After dinner." She turned back to the stove.

Max barely tasted the food, though he could tell it was pretty good. He was panicking a bit, hopefully not so she could notice. He wanted to be fucked. He'd probably want it from the next Betty that came home too. Maybe not every time. He'd be alone with her. They finished their meal.

"Max?" Libby held him loosely within her arms. "Do you still want me?"

"Yes."

"How do you want it?" She rocked against him slowly. She stilled. "How?" She twisted him in her embrace. "I'm going to press into you. Have you. What way should I take you, Max?" She was grinding against him.

Max couldn't speak. Most of them had taken him from behind. Never alone. He'd been sunk in the other one he was with, or sank into her quickly.

Libby turned Max to face her. "I want to watch you. May I watch you?"

Max nodded. He just wanted her doing him. Dazed, he couldn't help her undress him. Max lay back on the bed, aware that she was nude. He thought of them all being nude. He felt her squeeze the base of his cock and he focused.

"I'm going to prepare you." Libby dipped two fingers into the jar and kneeled closer to Max. She leaned down. She licked the tip of his cock and wrapped her lips around the crown. Pressed a finger into Max, restrained him from thrusting deeper into her mouth.

Libby slid further down his cock as she stretched Max. She withdrew, swallowed him again. She pulled the two fingers out and swiped her ring and pinky fingers through the vaseline. Libby sucked Max as she slicked her cock. She let him fall from her mouth and pressed into him.

Max thought she was beautiful fucking him. Her breasts heaved, pleasure and concentration played on her face. Libby started slow, went deep, slid out further and further before plumbing deep again. She leaned forward.

Libby thrust into Max, and back out much more slowly. She braced her hands on the mattress to either side of his hips, bent down and took him back into her mouth, eyes still on him.

Max almost came, even when Libby used her lips to apply pressure at the base of his cock. She was watching him. She was fucking him, sucking him off. Watching. He wanted it to last forever, he wanted to come. He wanted to kiss her. "Libby. Kiss me."

She released Max's cock and stretched up to take his mouth.

He was going to come. She was hitting his prostate with every stroke, her belly was against his slick cock, and their tongues were dueling. Libby pulled away from the kiss.

She swallowed Max. He came and she swallowed. She stroked in and out of him, ragged and fast. She came.

Max pulled her up from his stomach, her forehead hard. He sighed when she slipped out. He kissed her jaw and her closed lips, hugged her tight. He followed her into sleep.

The Future Comes Tomorrow