Night Skies Hotel: False Alliance free porn video

Night Skies Hotel: False Alliance By MTG and Solari Historian's note: This story is set during the "modern" era of the Night Skies Hotel. While it's not necessary to have read preceding NSH stories in order to fully appreciate this one, there are some references to characters and events from those stories. *** "So - you hear Ayrton Senna is going to pull his team out of Formula 1?" "Yeah." Ben had been in a sour mood for a while, much to Mick's frustration, though he knew the reason why. "Certainly weird that, while they were the best of their day on the race track, neither Senna nor Prost could cut it as a team boss ..." Mick's voice trailed off. He sighed; it was no use and he knew it. "Look mate, I know Jim's still missing - but you're not going to help him by moping like this." "He's not missing," Ben seethed. "He was taken!" Mick rolled his eyes "Come on ... you're not seriously still thinking that him and the rest of the Lasers got morphed into fit birds in some Somerset hotel." "Look - I showed you that buzz-mail." "It's called spam. No one actually believes that stuff - face it, you got taken for a ride!" "So what am I supposed to do?" "Move on!" "I'd like to see you try!" After finishing his beer, Ben headed for home. He was in time for the nightly news. The United Nations was in the process of handing over Iraq to a new democratic government, U.S. President Al Gore was touring the world promoting the Kyoto environmental agreement, David Backheem had won another game for Manchester United - but there was nothing about the Blue Eagle Hotel. While the world hadn't been exactly peaceful since the collapse of the Soviet Empire, neither had it been in utter chaos. So why hadn't the authorities paid attention to the reports of missing guys, reports that seemed to be increasing in frequency? That was what Ben Harris had been thinking for three months now. Frustrated, he checked his buzz-mail ... and saw a ray of hope. He clicked on the entry that had riveted his attention, focusing on the words that flashed up on his screen: Ben Harris: I read the message you wrote at the Paranormal Stories message board a week ago. I believe you and I have something in common. My name is Grant Swanton. Six months ago, Felix - a cousin of mine - contacted me from an establishment in the Navajo Desert called the Blue Eagle Hotel. He was a truck driver on a long haul and he was staying at this place - seemed to be enjoying it and was planning to stay longer. A month went by and I didn't hear from him. It was at this point that on a hunch I skimmed the Internet. I found a Web site run by Richard Kane, who you may know of. The information on his site suggested something unbelievable - namely, that Richard's son Neil, his best friend Nick, Felix and probably your brother Jim, along with his LSE Lasers paintball team, were transformed into beautiful women and had their minds rewritten to match, for some unknown purpose by a group that was referred to in a buzz-mail sent by a partially transformed Neil to his family as a "Sisterhood." I do not wish to say much more other than this. I have a plan to destroy the Sisterhood and I have organized a meeting with others who have lost male loved ones in New York City's Central Park a week today at 4 p.m. If you want a chance to help get Jim back, you would be recommended to attend. Yours, Grant Swanton Ben re-read the buzz-mail before smiling for the first time in months. A trans-Atlantic flight was certainly worthwhile if it gave him a chance of getting his brother back. *** A week later, Ben was walking through Central Park, having never felt more at peace as families played around him. He and Grant Swanton had exchanged buzz-mails for a couple of days, so Ben knew what his - Was it partner or benefactor? - looked like and vice versa. "Ben!" The voice called out from a crowded, half-circular bench - it was Grant, a fortysomething brown-haired man with glasses. With him was an older gray-haired man, a blonde woman and an Oriental man who were both about 30. Ben was, by far, the youngest of the group - he gave Grant a handshake, and the man introduced Ben to the rest of the group. "This is Richard Kane ...," Ben shook the gray-haired man's hand, "... Sue Carson ...," the only female in the group, "... and Taku Sinto." The introductions finished, Ben took a seat. The first order of the meeting was a get-to-know-you session. They had all lost someone to the Blue Eagle Hotel, but their stories were very different. Neil Kane and Nick Stark vanished while on a skiing holiday in Canada, during which time they were staying at a Blue Eagle. It was a story the others knew all too well. Then came Grant's story. Then Ben's own. Sue had lost her detective brother Carl while he was working on a case in a Blue Eagle that wasn't far from where Felix had disappeared in the desert. Taku was a Japanese businessman who had flown in from Tokyo. His business partner Ukyo Kaitan had seemingly vanished into a Blue Eagle near Mount Fuji. Grant spoke up. "OK. What, apart from the obvious, do all of our stories have in common?" Silence. "Has anyone ever tried to track down the branch of the Blue Eagle Hotel that they first knew of?" Everyone nodded. "Has anyone ever found any evidence whatsoever that said hotel had ever existed?" The expressions on everyone's faces said it all. "Exactly! Now I have a theory; namely, the buildings that have appeared on three continents that we know of were all one and the same." "That ...," Taku started, "...is impossible." "No it's not," a new voice stated. "In fact, it's absolutely correct. May I sit?" The newcomer was about Grant's age, and had curly, black hair. "Er, who are you?" Grant asked, speaking for the group. "My name ... is Gunther," the newcomer replied. "I'll get to the point: I'm from what your people call a might-have-been timeline. I am a member of the Patriarchy, the government that oversees my timeline. For ... many years ... we've been at war with a group called the Sisterhood." The group sat silent, stunned by the revelation. "I believe you are well-acquainted with them. Now ... may I sit? My feet are terribly sore." The group were more than happy to give Gunther a space on the bench as he told them about his ... their prospective enemy. The Sisterhood and the Patriarchy had once been friends, their timelines linked to one another, until the Sisterhood had invaded the Patriarchy's home timeline, called Terra, with a pathogen that transformed men into very horny women - it was passed on in a variety of ways, but the most common method was through sexual intercourse. The rest was history; the two groups had been at each other's throats across the timelines since. "The key to stopping the Sisterhood is in this pathogen that they spread," Gunther stated briskly. "I don't suppose you have any ideas on how to tackle it?" Grant hadn't been planning to reveal his plan in front of a virtual stranger, but he didn't feel that this newcomer was a threat. "In fact I do," he said. "I am a medical scientist who used to work for the U.S. government - I'm currently working for Columbia University here in New York." He paused, weighing his next words. "I have created a formula for a drug might be able to reverse the effects of this pathogen as you call it ...," he nodded to Gunther, "I already have a team at Columbia working to create the drug itself. I plan for the five of us to keep watch for the Blue Eagle when it next appears, infiltrate it and inject the drug into all those who have been transformed." Grant shrugged his shoulders. "That's the simple version of course." The rest of the group nodded approvingly, and Gunther looked happy as well. "Of course that would be the simple version!" he exclaimed. "But it is a very impressive simple version for such a inexperienced group of campaigners such as yourselves! Your endeavor is as promising as I'd heard it would be." He turned to Grant. "Do you have a copy of the formula here with you?" Grant smiled. "I do. Would you like it?" "Very much so," Gunther said. "I will present it to my superiors in the Patriarchy - and if I have my way, your group will receive the full support of the Patriarchy." He grimaced. "Trust me, you will need it." Grant gazed at his group questioningly, but from the looks on their faces he could tell that none of them felt they had anything to lose by giving Gunther the formula - his story sounded convincing enough. Grant handed Gunther the formula without a second thought. "You will not regret this," the man said gravely, "and we will be in contact again." Without another word, he stepped away from the group, vanishing into the crowds of Central Park. *** Intelligence operative Gunther C'Shard strode into the hidden outpost's main chamber and tossed the CD Grant had given him on the solid, oaken table. The disc slid to a stop in front of an imposing, broad-shouldered middle-aged man with a shaven head and penetrating black eyes. He picked the disc up and eyed it curiously. "This is it? A single disc with less than a terabyte of storage?" He tsked. "I highly doubt that any formula that crackpot Grant Swanton could have come up with is capable of neutralizing the pathogen - even moreso since his timeline is but a candle to our torch when it comes to scientific capabilities." "I thought knowledge-seekers such as yourself were supposed to be open-minded, Stanton," Gunther observed. "Have the centuries made you more, rather than less, provincial?" Eternal Scientist Stanton Zev'thun wagged his finger at Gunther. "No, but being around for more than 800 years allows a man to see a dead-end alley before plunging blindly into it." He smiled mirthlessly. "You'll understand better if you're ever cloned and have your accumulated abilities transferred each time. In other words, when you're older." Gunther ignored the jab. "You will, of course, examine the data?" "That you even dare to ask is a sure sign of your youth and inexperience," Stanton rumbled. "I am the leader of the order sworn to restore Deyvid Trion to his masculinity, in body and in spirit. I shall not rest until that day arrives." He rose and ambled over to Gunther. "In the meantime, I strongly suggest you pinpoint where the bastard offspring of the Night Skies Hotel will appear next." "It will be done," Gunther said automatically. "When will your analysis of Swanton's formula to be complete?" "Three days. It'd be sooner, but there's related research going on in other timelines that I need to keep an eye on," Stanton explained. He grinned wolfishly. "Three days. That's what you have to track down the Blue Eagle Hotel and ingratiate yourself further with Swanton's group of crackpots." Gunther nodded. He watched silently as Stanton moved to the far end of the chamber - which was empty of any furnishings - and subvocalized a command. A small whirlpool of energy coalesced in front of him and, without a word, the scientist stepped into the maelstrom and vanished from Timeline 0576. *** "Your orders, sir?" the twin flight captains ask in unison. "Per the wishes of Eternal Scientist Stanton Zev'thun and the Council of Champions, you two are to keep your fourteen Stingrays on hot standby," Gunther said mildly. A holographic global map of the Earth in Timeline 0576 hung motionlessly in the air behind the operative. It was spattered with a number of red dots - each the site of a known or suspected manifestation of the Blue Eagle Hotel - with one dotless location highlighted in blue. "If the formula fails to neutralize the pathogen and undo its effects, you're to jump into battle at my command and destroy the hotel complex before it has a chance to escape into the void or another timeline." "There will be no attempt to retrieve the target's Infinity crystal?" one of the twins asked. Gunther shook his head. "The mission's primary objective is to see if the formula engineered by this timeline is effective. If it is, we shall use it to snuff out the remnant of the Sisterhood once and for all. And if it isn't ... well, that's where you enter the equation." The twins saluted smartly and filed out of the main chamber. Gunther returned his focus to the hologram, his mind tuning out the hubbub of activity throughout the base, which was housed in an ancient, jungle-shrouded pyramid complex in what this timeline called the Yucatan Peninsula. Another blue dot appeared, and was soon followed by a third as the AI continued to pinpoint possible locations where the Blue Eagle Hotel would show up next. Gunther looked on idly as some of the blue dots vanished, only to be replaced by others. The red dots continued to expand as the AI acquired more data from Patriarchal espionage assets scattered across the planet. This timeline had been infiltrated years ago - which accounted for the extensive, if hidden, Patriarchal presence - but hadn't yet been conquered. Developments in Timeline 0576 had piqued the interest of the Council of Champions, and now it was possible the Patriarchy was about to hit paydirt. And if we don't, Gunther mused, there's always the fact that we're now next-door neighbors to Swanton's timeline ... and can claim it by brute military force anytime we want. There was a soft chime; Gunther swiveled around in his chair and, a moment later, a predatory grin split his face. A yellow dot glowed brightly in Appalachian Mountains of Tennessee. The AI had pinpointed the location where it believed the Blue Eagle Hotel would materialize next - there was a second chime, and Gunther's grin widened as realization dawned: The hotel, according to data feeds, had just popped up only a few miles from where the AI said it would. "This particular branch of the Sisterhood is so utterly predictable," Gunther said gleefully as he made his way out of the main chamber and into a smaller side chamber. "The dumb bitches are feeding in the same spot they've been to at least seven other times over the last ten years or so." He snorted. "Must be crewed by gullible women ...," his voice trailed off for a moment as he considered another possibility, " ...or a bunch of crafty bitches intent on luring us into a trap of their own." Gunther eyed the chamber's contents for a moment before selecting six golden medallions and a twister gun. The medallions - which were fully powered - would protect Gunther and Swanton's group from the feminizing effect of just being in the hotel for a period of time upon their activation. The twister gun - which fired bursts of incredibly compressed air capable of crushing just about any target they hit - would be his personal weapon. If it came to violence, a weapon known for inflicting horrendous damage on its victims would be a very good thing to have. The intelligence operative exited the side chamber and strode down the corridor. Base personnel parted before him as he entered a hangar bay and made his way over to a smaller, two-seat version of the deadly black ovoid attack craft that had played a key role in the conquest of Timeline 0575 some months ago. The Panther-class ship rose into the air with an eerie drone and, an instant later, leaped down the flight corridor and out of the pyramid complex, where it literally became invisible. After all, it wouldn't do to be detected by the natives just yet, damn the power drain on the Panther's systems. Ten minutes later, the invisible attack craft settled down into an isolated part of Central Park in New York City and powered down. Gunther kept the invisibility screen active and set the AI to give bad vibes to anyone other than him who got too close to the craft. The operative glanced at his watch - This timeline has such antiquated timepieces! he thought - as he made his way to a recreation trail. "Time to catch a cab and pay Swanton a visit at Columbia University," Gunther said to himself. "For I am the bearer of glad tidings ..." *** Grant was in his office reading the progress report from the team working on the drug that he planned to use to counteract the pathogen, as Gunther had called it. His phone rang. "Dr. Swanton?" It was the department secretary. "Speaking." "A man called Gunther is here to see you." "I'll be right down!" The pair met in a reception area before Grant took the Patriarchy agent to his office. "So, Gunther," he asked, "what's the news from the Patriarchy?" "To be honest ...," Gunther started, "... my superiors were a bit skeptical to start with. Bear in mind that the CD ROM you gave me is very primitive compared to Patriarchal technology. They simply weren't sure whether to take you seriously or not." "Yeah, but ..." Gunther held up his hand, cutting Grant off. "They're looking it over - if it's a go, they will allow me to help you on this little adventure." Grant's eyes lit up with enthusiasm, which secretly amused Gunther to no end. "Great! So what happens now?" "I'll have word from my superiors in three days." Grant showed Gunther the report he'd been reading. "According to this, the drug will be ready in two." "Then I suggest you get a flight to Tennessee booked for two days time for you and your crew." Gunther took the report and wrote down some coordinates on it. "That's where the Blue Eagle Hotel has manifested itself." *** Richard received a phone call from Grant later that night in his hotel room. Heading downstairs, he found the rest of the team in the hotel bar. "So," he asked, "you heard the news?" "Yes. Something about a trip to Tennessee in a couple of days time?" It was Ben. Richard nodded. "Apparently the Blue Eagle just turned up there, although we'll have to wait there a day of so before the Patriarchy decides whether to help out or not." "And if they do not help us?" Taku asked. "Then we're back at square one, according to Gunther." Richard sighed. "Apparently we risk going the same route as every other male who's entered that place if we go in there unprotected. Fortunately for us ...," Richard smiled, " ...the Patriarchal operative has given some 'toys' to Grant that are supposed to protect us from the hotel's effects." "What if I went in solo?" Sue asked. "Normal women wouldn't be affected by the pathogen, would they?" Richard shrugged. "I haven't a clue. But why risk it? Gunther has given us a means to avoid being transformed." A voice of caution sounded. "Surely we're relying too much on this Gunther fellow, aren't we?" Taku pointed out. "Is that such a wise thing to do?" "If you want to do this without help from the Patriarchy, it's your life on the line," Richard shot back. "I think they've been pretty useful so far." *** Two days later, a Dalton Airlines flight touched down at the Memphis airport. On board were five nervous people. Their plan was to get a taxi into town and then catch a cross-state train to the town that was closest to the Blue Eagle Hotel. If things went according to plan, they would stay one night at an ordinary hotel before the mission would begin. They all knew in their hearts that make-or-break time was drawing near. *** "Damn. I should've studied this timeline's lunar phases more closely," Gunther muttered. He was sitting in the dark, a mile or so from where the Blue Eagle Hotel stood, its parking lot mostly filled with all types of vehicles - cars, trucks, vans and motorcycles, mostly. Outside the distant glow of the hotel, the night was pitch black, speckled only by distant points of stellar light. "It figures tonight had to be the night of the new moon this month." The intelligence operative discarded the spy scope - technology native to Timeline 0576, it needed a source of outside light in order to function properly at night - and focused on the hotel with his own nanite-enhanced eyes. So much for trying to blend in 100 percent with the natives, technology-wise, he thought ruefully. Oh, well. The mission comes ahead of everything else. The first thing Gunther noticed about the Blue Eagle Hotel was its size. It was much, much smaller than the infamous Night Skies Hotel. Secondly, it had only two levels and one parking lot. If anything, the hotel looked more like a drab economy-class outfit than a hedonistic luxury-class utopia. Yet its parking lot was nearly full, attesting to something unearthly about the place that was attracting men like moths to a flame. "Probably the pheromones given off by the women within," Gunther said aloud. Seeing no security whatsoever, the operative glanced one more time at his watch - not the antiquated timepiece he'd worn earlier, but his own kind of timepiece, which was also a miniature AI whose capabilities were years beyond anything this timeline could offer - and was relieved to see an all-clear symbol. The timepiece's sensors hadn't detected any unusual energy signatures whatsoever in or near the hotel. Gunther activated his medallion and set off toward the hotel. "Time to make non-permanent living arrangements with the Blue Eagle," he cackled. *** "Give me the best accommodations you have," Gunther instructed the raven-haired, emerald green-eyed beauty across the countertop from him. "Six of us are coming here later today to unwind and celebrate the successful unveiling of a new pharmaceutical drug!" "Really?! What is it?" the woman asked cheerily as she confirmed Gunther's financial information and handed his credit card back to him. "A cure for cancer?" "You could call it that," the operative said cryptically. "I'm trusting you will keep quiet about this? I meant it when I said my friends and I are here to get away from it all for a while." "Rest assured, sir, we shall do everything in our power to make your stay a comfortable one," the receptionist said. "We may be a small hotel, but size doesn't take away from our amenities and professionalism." She gave Gunther a pamphlet. "As you can see, we have an Olympic-size swimming pool, a small casino, a good restaurant and ...," her voice lowered conspiratorially, " ...a bar that serves some wicked drinks." A slight pause. "And if that's not enough, we have, well, let's just say we have employees who are more than willing to see that the guest gets his or her money's worth." Gunther smiled as he took the key cards from the woman. "Ma'am, I certainly look forward to my time here. I'm sure my fellows will as well." He nodded at her. "I bid you adieu." The receptionist stared after Gunther's retreating form, a warm wetness filling the slit between her legs. "I'll see you again, handsome," she called out softly, "and when I do, you'll be well on your way to becoming a gorgeous, Capri 120-smoking slut." She pulled out a long, white pack from under the countertop and tapped out a superslim cigarette. "Just like me." *** Gunther hadn't been in the suite more than a minute when his timepiece chimed. Glancing at its screen, the operative realized it was Stanton. "My liege, isn't it a bit risky contacting me while I'm deep in the shit, so to speak?" "You're giving these bitches too much credit," the eternal scientist snorted. "Their only claim to fame is being a young offshoot of the Night Skies Hotel." He coughed. "As we suspected, the formula doesn't work. We synthesized it and tested it on a hundred of the bitches - including at least forty who were once male - we took as prisoners of war during the conquest of Timeline 0549." "And?" "They got upset stomachs, Gunther, and their skin turned blue. They were back to normal within a day - normal women of the Sisterhood, that is." "Schit." Stanton nodded. "My thoughts exactly. What's more, we noted one change, and it sure as hell won't benefit us." His eyes narrowed. "The bitches were more aggressive afterward. And not berzerker aggressive. Intelligent aggressive." "Double schit." "This formula cannot be allowed to fall into the Sisterhood's hands," Stanton hissed. "The gods know what the bitches could do with it, what with their ability to mess around with genetics." Gunther sighed. "I know what I have to do, my liege." "Good. Let us know the instant you're clear of the hotel." Stanton ended the transmission, his face grim. Gunther laid back on one of the suite's beds, thinking. A few minutes later, he placed a phone call to the hotel where Grant and his team were staying. It ringed three times before being picked up. "Grant here." "The operation is a go." The lie came easily to Gunther. It wasn't the first time the Patriarchy had perpetrated a double-cross in order to achieve the greater good. "I've got a suite in the hotel. Be here by noon, and don't forget to activate your medallions!" *** The op was a go! Grant gathered his team around him. "OK," he announced, "the plan is pretty much this: Gunther has booked us into the Blue Eagle for a few nights. Once there, we will be patient and wait for an opportunity. The Sisterhood's history suggests that the 'staff' will be wanting to fuck us not long into our stay." He looked at Sue. "Apart from you that is. You're just going to have to play it by ear." Addressing the entire group again, he said, "The objective is to change back employees at the rate of one a night. According to Gunther, the only way to tell the difference between staff members who were transformed and those who weren't is that the new women are extra horny." His gaze grew hard. "That's where we have to start. Once their masculinity has returned, they'll have the memories of who we should target next. Is that clear?" "Clear!" a chorus of voices resounded. "Good. Now, I have acquired some walkie talkies. This is the deal: You are to check in whenever you rescue someone or if you get caught, preferably before you get turned. Got it?" Heads nodded vigorously. Grant smiled reassuringly. "OK ... let's do it!" The team scattered, making frenetic preparations to meet up with Gunther. A sole figure stayed behind in the room with Grant. It was Taku. The Japanese man eyed the scientist, then spoke up. "I wish to ... keep an eye on Gunther once we're in the hotel." Grant returned the businessman's gaze. "You don't like the guy, do you?" "I do not trust him. It is as simple as that." "That leaves only four of us to drug the staff. We'll be hard-pressed to use up the supply in three nights." "So be it." "OK ... it's your call. But for God's sake, man, make sure Gunther doesn't realize what you're doing. If he's been honest with us and is offended by your surveillance, we might very well end up with a supremely pissed inter-dimensional superpower on our hands." "I will take precautions, so do not worry," Taku said, shaking Grant's hand. *** The team entered the Blue Eagle Hotel one minute past noon. Gunther greeted them in the lobby, and jovially introduced his friends to the staff. His eyes gleamed as he practically dared the staff to fuck the male members of the team. They, however, were not so easily lured in by the operative's brazen baiting, and remained completely professional. "They're in more control of themselves than I initially gave them credit for," he whispered to Grant as the six of them made their way to their suite. "I suggest you choose your targets with great care." *** It was evening now. Gunther knew the basics of the team's plan. He knew he'd timed it so that the team, now scattered throughout the hotel, had a sense of security, but maybe - just maybe - had not had enough time to use the formula on any of the women. In some ways it was a pity that Grant's plan wouldn't work. But pity or not - bottom line, Grant's team was doomed - maybe someone in the Patriarchy would appreciate the sacrifice they made while trying to turn their misguided plan into reality. The operative skulked along an empty, darkened corridor. Quickly Glancing around to make sure no one was in earshot, he touched his timepiece and began whispering into it. *** It seemed a ninja camp Taku had attended as a child hadn't proven to be a waste of time after all. True to his word, he hadn't been seen by the man he suspected of setting up the entire team for a fall. And now his patience and diligence paid off. His instincts had been correct. Perfectly hidden in the shadows, he overheard Gunther in a deserted part of the corridor asking - no, ordering - someone to "send in the Stingrays." Heedless of his own safety, he instantly alerted Grant via the walkie talkie. "Grant! Grant ..." His voice and the crackle of the device had given his position away. "Not so quick, Taku." The Japanese man turned in the direction of the icy voice and stared as Gunther withdrew a wicked-looking weapon, pointing it in the businessman's direction. "It's time you left this mortal coil!" How the hell can he see me?! I'm hidden in the shadows! I'm ... Taku tried to take flight, but his body was frozen in place by a sudden, unexplainable fear. He felt was a horrible, crushing pressure squeezing his heart and tried to scream, but it was too late - all that came from his mouth was a crimson spray of blood. Taku was dead a moment later, his chest crushed flat like an empty, aluminum can. *** Ben, at long last, had found a suitable target. The two of them were naked and she was definitely ready to fuck. Ben knew that he couldn't afford to have his medallion removed. It was now or never. He withdrew the drug-filled syringe from behind a pillow and plunged it into the woman's right thigh. She screamed in agony, instinctively ripping the half-emptied syringe from her body. Enraged by the violation of her body, she launched herself at him, ripping off his medallion. Ben fell back on his boxing skills, landing an upper-cut that knocked her out cold. Ben quickly replaced his medallion, breathing heavily at his close brush with danger. He stared, perplexed, at the raven-haired, emerald green-eyed beauty as splotches of blue mottled her skin, then faded away. Her breathing deepened, and a low growl filled her throat. Ben paled. "Something isn't right here," he muttered as he shot out of the bed. *** Grant was hanging out at the hotel bar, getting chatted up by members of staff when he received a pair of messages on his walkie talkie. The first was from Taku - "Grant! Grant ..." - but it was cut off in mid-stream. The second one came from Ben. "Grant! Something went wrong. I just tested the drug on one of the women. It didn't work. I repeat, it didn't work. I had to knock her out to stop her from having her way with me!" Grant twitched. An instant later, he heard an eerie, unearthly drone overhead. He saw a few women rushing by the bar's entrance. Their numbers increased as he watched. Aircraft! the scientist thought, finally placing the sound. Something's gone terribly wrong! I have to contact the rest of the crew! "Guys! Meet me in the lobby - we're in deep shit!" *** The pain lanced through Trissa's head like a lightning bolt. She stifled a gasp and focused on its source - it was a newly initiated sister. The woman's memories, dream-like, flooded her own mind. There was a male on the bed with her. He had some sort of syringe. There was a familiar, blinding flash of agony. Her sister was pulling the syringe free from her flesh. The male punched the enraged woman. Blackness. Utter blackness. A low growl filled her mind. The tattooed and painted manager of the Blue Eagle Hotel - once an intelligence operative for the Patriarchy - shot to her feet. The hotel has been breached! I repeat, the hotel has been breached! she thought, focusing her mind on those of her sisters. Trissa projected the image of the offending male and, moments later, new information swamped her synapses. The male - Ben - hadn't come to the hotel alone. This from one of the receptionists. Other sisters chimed in mentally, but it was growing harder and harder to maintain the energy-intensive mental link among them. The group link faded as women were mentally exhausted by the effort and dropped out, but not before they knew their targets' names and what they looked like: Ben Harris, Grant Swanton, Richard Kane, Sue Carson, Taku Sinto and Gunther C'Shard. "Security! Neutralize and capture the targets," Trissa commanded into the comsig on her wrist. "The bastards have answers to questions I have, and they're going to answer them ...," her voice grew menacing, " ... one way or another." A woman's uniformed visage nodded. "Squads have already been dispatched, ma'am." She tilted her head, listening to a status report. "It seems Taku Sinto has been found. Quite dead, I'm afraid, and not at our hands." "Then whose? His own compatriots?!" "Ma'am, something isn't right here. Call it a Prime Guardian's instincts, but I suggest we fully power up the Infinity crystal and ..." Trissa stiffened as an unbidden image popped up in her mind's eye. Its sender - a woman on the hotel's periphery - couldn't keep her surprise from leaking into the link with Trissa. Surprise that quickly turned to confusion and fear as, in the distance, black dots grew inexorably larger, a low drone heralding their approach. The image faltered, then faded, its sender having lost her focus. But Trissa had seen enough. "Shitfire!" she exclaimed. "Those are Stingrays! How did the Patriarchy ... ah, hell, it doesn't matter now." Her eyes flashed angrily. "Energize the Infinity crystal!" she shouted simultaneously into the comsig and over the mental link she shared with her sisters. "Prepare for emergency departure! Patriarchal craft are inbound! I repeat, Patriarchal ..." *** Gunther shot the last bitch standing in the lobby; he smiled smugly as she crumpled to the floor, gasping for air that would never come, her emerald green eyes locked disbelievingly on her crushed chest. The large, heavy black gun slipped from her grasp, thudding to the floor next to the body of another tattooed woman, her head a pulped mass of pink and red flesh. The newly fallen Guardian's fading eyes stared accusingly at the Patriarchal operative as he strode by her - he looked back at her prone form, and casually fired a second burst from his twister gun. "This was almost too easy," he muttered, turning away from the newest corpse. There was a commotion in the distance behind him, but the operative paid it no heed as he exited the Blue Eagle Hotel, stepping out into the broad daylight. He looked up at the menacing shapes of the Stingrays as they swooped in. "Come and get 'em, boys!" he crowed triumphantly. Fourteen Stingrays ripple fired. A curtain of twenty-eight hellish bolts of crimson energy reached hungrily for the hotel ... and slammed into the energy shield generated by the Infinity crystal as it powered up for an emergency transition. Gunther scowled, but the twin flight captains - undaunted by the shield - came in for another pass with their flights. Once again hellish energy tore into the shield. Then thrice. The shield flickered ever so briefly. The Infinity crystal - a small one compared to the Night Skies Hotel - struggled to maintain the besieged shield long enough for it to safely generate a gateway to a refuge timeline Trissa and her sisters were attempting to focus on. "Throw some missiles into the mix," Gunther ordered into his timepiece-cum-comlink. A cold, shark's grin split his face. "A bottle of the best 800-year-old Gaian wine and two sex slaves await the man whose weapons deal the death blow to this offshoot of the Night Skies Hotel!" Sure the reward was extravagant. But then again, it wasn't every day that the Patriarchy had the opportunity to destroy another piece of the Sisterhood's remnant. *** Chaos. Complete and utter chaos. Grant shoved his way through the undulating mass of women and looked back - he'd lost his pursuers somewhere in the crowd, and was thankful for that. The scientist picked up his pace, making his way toward the lobby and, hopefully, the rest of his team. A minute later, he strode into the lobby - and froze in horror. There were bodies everywhere. At least a dozen of them, all women, and some of them wearing what appeared to be military uniforms. The rest of his team stood amid the carnage, looking at him. "Did ... did we do this?" Grant mumbled, his eyes drinking in the sprays of blood, the pulped heads, the crushed chests. "No." It was Sue. "They were like this when we got here." Richard retched. "Oh my God, oh my God. What have we gotten ourselves into?" Grant steadied himself. "Where are Gunther and Taku?" "We were betrayed," Ben snarled. "That bastard Gunther lied to us when he said the formula worked. The fucker probably killed Taku." "Or the women got him ..." "No, I don't think so," Grant whispered hollowly. "Taku called me ... he had been trailing Gunther ... but was cut off." The scientist glanced up as the hotel shook beneath the furious assault of the aircraft he'd heard approaching earlier. "It seems we were nothing more than pawns in someone's chess game." Ben moved toward the entrance. "It's time to get the hell out of here. I'm willing to take my chances outside the walls of this damnable place, bombardment or not!" "What about our loved ones?!" Sue wailed. "Ben, you can't leave your brother Jim behind. And what of my brother, Carl?" She looked at Richard. "Your son, Neil, and his best friend, Nick." Her voice grew plaintive. "What of Felix?! And Taku will have died for nothing if we can't retrieve Ukyo!" Something snapped inside Grant. "It's too late for them. We have to save ourselves ... we can try again, someday!" "NONE OF YOU ARE GOING ANYWHERE." The booming voice filled the lobby. "YOU BROUGHT DEATH AND DESTRUCTION TO THE SISTERHOOD. YOU SHALL PAY DEARLY FOR THOSE TRANSGRESSIONS." The translucent form of a woman appeared, blocking the team's exit. Details filled in as she solidified - including the fact that she carried a wicked-looking, heavy black gun. Trissa scowled at the intruders as teams of Guardians - having finally gotten past the tangled throngs of their sisters fleeing deeper into the hotel - converged on the lobby. "You're surrounded," she said unnecessarily. Her eyes narrowed as the hotel shook again beneath a Patriarchal assault. Shafts of dust floated down from the ceiling. "The next move is yours, you who would defile the Sisterhood!" *** Grant and the others held their hands up in surrender. "Look," the scientist said, "we really need to talk." "About what?" Trissa asked coolly. "A lot." "Very well then." The team was surrounded and led into an office of sorts that had a distinctively otherworldly feel. The woman - who had an air of authority around her - dismissed their escorts, save for a pair guarding the entrance to the office. "My name is Trissa," she said. "I am the manager of the Blue Eagle Hotel. It took me a while, but eventually I remembered enough to realize who Gunther really was - how, you ask? Well, I was an agent for the Patriarchy before my initiation into the Sisterhood." "Whatever!" Ben said coldly. "You shouldn't be so impudent, especially after what you've done." "Look," Grant interjected, "we had nothing to do with the death and destruction! That wasn't part of our game plan!" "You allied yourselves with the Patriarchy!" "The Patriarchy double-crossed us!" "And because they 'double-crossed' you, your entire world will suffer! Why DID you ally yourselves with such animals?" Now Richard spoke. "Well, given our situation and a chance meeting in New York, what did you expect? Exactly HOW LONG did you think you could get away with mindwiping people like you do?" "It's how the Sisterhood survives." Trissa frowned. "I don't know what Gunther told you about the war between our peoples, but know this: The war should never have started. Long ago, when our homeworld was conquered by the Patriarchy, it was an attack that came out of the blue, that no one expected!" "So?" Sue shouted. "Why should we care? Why should Nick have cared? What about Neil? What about Jim? What about ..." "What about them? They're doing more with their lives now than they ever did ..." Trissa's voice vanished amid the earthquake-like rumble from another fusillade of Patriarchal fire striking the hotel's weakening shield. The lights flickered and, for a moment, Trissa looked as if she were focusing on something else, her emerald green eyes distant. Information flowed into her mind: The shield still held, but the Infinity crystal was being drained faster than it could recharge itself. Combined with the dissension among her sisters' minds - it appeared there wasn't yet a critical mass of minds focused on the refuge timeline in order for the crystal to safely generate a passage to it - and it was quite possible the writing was on the wall. If that's to be the Blue Eagle's fate, then so be it, Trissa thought, but our sacrifice shall not be in vain if I have any say in the matter. She blinked, refocusing on the captives. "Besides, I would think they're safer right now where they are and as they are. The invasion of your world has already started - assuming we can leave this timeline before the hotel is destroyed, your own best chance of survival is within these hotel walls. And ...," a small smile crossed Trissa's face, "... you are in no position to negotiate the terms of your stay." "What about me?" It was Sue. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm all woman." "We have our ways of adding uncooperative outside women to the Sisterhood," Trissa replied wolfishly. Sue didn't like the sound of that and bolted for the door, catching Trissa and the guards unawares. Richard was right behind her. After a second's hesitation, the other two attempted to follow, only to have the door slammed shut in their faces. *** The scene was chaotic outside the besieged hotel. Richard and Sue, deftly sidestepping detritus - both biological and artificial - thought it would be a wonder if the locals hadn't yet noticed the fireworks. There were more futuristic-looking fighter planes blasting the Blue Eagle Hotel than they could count, but the energy shield protecting the structure was seemingly able to take whatever was thrown at it, although it was contracting. The parking lot was already fully exposed, pockmarked by steaming craters and charred vehicles. The two held their hands to their ears in a vain attempt to squelch the deafening sound of battle - and, worse, the thin, pitiful wails of the dying men and women caught outside the shield. Richard slowed as a wounded man reached pleadingly toward him with scorched hands. "C'mon! We've got to keep moving!" Sue shouted, looking back. "There's nothing we can do for the poor bastards!" Richard gulped and dashed past the man, rejoining Sue. They were intent on making a beeline for the nearest town to warn the world of what was coming, and prepare themselves for their roles in the greatest struggle their world had ever known. "And just where do you think you're going?" The two spun around and gaped at the voice's owner. It was Gunther. He held a gun pointed at them. He snarled. The weapon bucked soundlessly. Once. Twice. The last thing Richard and Sue felt was a searing pain as their chests were crushed by an invisible, giant fist of air. They crumpled to the ground, wordless, their darkening vision locked on Gunther as a pair of Stingrays screamed by over his head, their weapons ports alight with lethal energy. "So much for our alliance," Gunther sniffed. *** Trissa had been operating a control panel. "Really, what's the point of running? The Patriarchy has surely neutralized your friends by now - do you actually think they'd let any of you get away alive?" The door opened. Two dark-haired hotel employees - one in a red dress, the other in blue - entered the office. "I have to admit - we were flattered by the rescue mission." Grant looked at the women, a stunned expression on his face. "Who ... who are you?" "I am Nicola, and this is my friend Nessie - we're dancers!" the girl in the red dress said. She smiled as she advanced on Grant, a predatory glint in her eyes. Nessie closed in on Ben in a similar fashion. "You must have heard of us," she added. "The man who was Nicola's father just attempted to escape our clutches ... a pity really." The medallions were pulled off. The women leaned in toward the two remaining teammates as they spoke simultaneously. "But ..." kiss, "we ..." kiss, "would ..." kiss, "still ..." kiss, "like...," kiss, "you ..." kiss, "to ..." kiss, "join ..." kiss, "us ..." kiss. Nicola and Nessie stood back and giggled as they admired their handiwork "It looks like part of you does as well," Nicola observed. Trissa, momentarily enjoying the scene herself, used the control panel to reveal a wall mirror. Grant and Ben's now-delicate, feminine eyebrows rose as they saw their full, pouty mouths, stained with luscious, bright red lipstick. Nessie tugged Grant's hand. "Come on - let's make you sexy." The guys were led out of Trissa's office. She smiled, knowing full well that, in due time, the woman Grant would become would tell her sisters all she could remember of the formula used against the Sisterhood. Yes, it had failed to dent the Sisterhood, let alone stop it, but Trissa knew of more than one Science Guild researcher who would want to add it to the Sisterhood's database. *** Nicola held Grant in a liplock as they entered her room and walked toward the bed. She pushed him onto the bed and smoothly removed her dress and bra. *** Ben didn't put up much resistance as Nessie removed his shirt - things were moving too fast for him in this peculiar, disoriented state he now found himself in. With both of them topless, Nessie straddled Ben's body, pressing her D-cup tits into his flesh. She sighed contentedly as hot, clear fluid seeped from her dark, engorged nipples, soaking into Ben's skin. She resumed kissing him as his chest started curving inward. *** "What the hell do you mean we can't escape from this timeline?!" Trissa shrieked into her comsig. She had become all business the instant Nicola and Nessie had left with their bedazzled prisoners and soon sisters-to-be. "We can't die here! Not now! There's too much we need to do for our sisters ... and we have to be alive to do it!" The Prime Guardian on the other end of the connection just shook her head. "Ma'am, what it comes down to is this: A large part of any Infinity crystal's effectiveness lies with those who know how to tap into its capabilities," she explained. "Frankly, Trissa, we have too many new sisters and too few veteran sisters in the Blue Eagle. Our newest sisters aren't as focused yet as their more experienced brethren. They're distracted more easily, and ...," static cut off the Prime Guardian's voice and visage momentarily, " ... not enough are focused on the refuge timeline, let alone the void. The possibility we feared earlier is now cold, hard reality." "We cannot lose the Blue Eagle without gaining something in return." Trissa's voice was deadly flat. "If this complex is to fall ..." An ominous rumble cut her off as a salvo of Patriarchal missiles - non-fusion and non-anti-matter, thank the goddesses - slammed into the hotel's shields, further weakening them. *** "Now ... doesn't that feel good?" whispered Nicola, whose own job on Grant was progressing just as nicely as her sister's work on Ben down the hall. "Not really," Grant replied nervously as his trousers were removed to reveal a pair of hairless legs that now matched his torso. "Oh ... it will do." Nicola removed his underwear, and her panties. She, too, straddled him, positioning herself above his throbbing, erect penis. She settled onto his member and began thrusting as she made love to him. *** Ben and Nessie were two other hairless bodies fucking while the bombardment of the hotel continued. The action caused Nessie's hips to naturally buck madly, her back arched and ... "YEEESSS!!!" - she climaxed, a warm, blissful feeling emanating outward from her center. She pulled Ben tighter to her, hoping to move his transformation further along. "You can't tell me you don't want some of that now can you sister?" She felt Ben's hips broadening in response. "Oh, I thought you might ...," she smiled wolfishly as she stuck her tongue down Ben's throat, a deeper transformation just beginning. *** With his pink, delicate tongue dueling with Nicola's, and his butt becoming rounder by the second, Grant closed his eyes, relaxing as his face shifted. Grant ... Gra ... Gr ... "Mmmmm." Eager to complete her transformation, Gemma opened her bright green eyes, smiling in anticipation as Nicola finished her long kiss and started giving much needed attention elsewhere. *** Nessie felt a blast of Ben's semen inside her, but one look in the eyes of the person below her suggested that Bethany was uninterested - she couldn't wait to have a REAL orgasm. Nessie smiled - she was in no mood to delay her new sister's pleasure. Bethany was already blessed with nice broad hips, a sexy round butt, and a slim and smooth body. Her angelic-looking face was framed by dark hair that continued to thicken and lengthen, flowing gorgeously down her back. Now it was titty time! Nessie started licking her lover's flat nipples; Bethany giggled as they become more and more sensitive, then gasped with delight as a glorious pair of breasts that she was proud to call her own began swelling into existence, topped by enlarging and darkening nipples. *** Trissa maintained the mental link a moment too long, and felt the death of the Prime Guardian she had been talking too. She held her head between her hands, but the pain wasn't just due to the woman's horrible death, blown apart by a penetrating bolt of crimson, hellish energy. "I've failed. I've utterly failed my sisters," she muttered, rocking back and forth in her chair. "I can't even retrieve a sample of the damned formula used on them to take back with me!" There was a brief pause. Trissa's voice rose into a scream. "ARTEMIS! I beg of you! Forgive me for my poor management!" A combination salvo of Patriarchal missiles and energy bolts slammed into the energy shield overhead, sending a shockwave through the structure that hurled Trissa to the carpeted floor of her office. *** Gemma's tits now a D-cup, it was time for Nicola to swing her body round to set up the last thing that needed to be done. Her body began to charge itself with electricity as Gemma rewarded her for her efforts thus far with a licking out. Nicola easily took all that remained of Grant into her mouth and, seconds later, she let it disappear inside Gemma as her back began to arch once again. The crescendo of the Patriarchal attack increased. The hotel shook and trembled as the shield protecting it began fracturing. Gemma and Nicola's cries of pleasure mixed with the groans of a hotel on the edge of collapse, but the women, completely lost within the timeless embrace of sex, were oblivious to the danger. *** Nessie's tongue dived between Bethany's new, petaling nether lips and into her new cunt. Her new sister screamed with sheer pleasure as Nessie's soft, pink organ ever so gently touched Bethany's newly formed clitoris. Undulating waves of energy - nearing the threshold of orgasmic - rippled outward from Bethany's center. The Blue Eagle Hotel's shield solidified for an instant as, at long last, the Infinity crystal exhausted its reserves. The shield starred, cracked and then shattered as the Stingrays, taking advantage of their foe's vulnerability, ripple fired again ... and again ... and again ... *** Four raven haired women simultaneously exploded into a mind-numbingly sensational orgasms. An instant later, their screams of pleasure were drowned out by the mind-numbing thunder of a hellacious, crimson wall of energy slamming through the hotel's shield and into the structure of the Blue Eagle itself. Screams of utter agony filled the corridors, rooms and chambers of the hotel as its occupants began dying en masse, the hotel collapsing in on itself. *** Trissa closed her eyes to the chaos and her mind to the excruciating pain of her dying sisters. She activated her micro Infinity crystal - which were always on hand to facilitate emergency escapes by senior personnel - and stepped woodenly through the gateway it generated. A shockwave of destruction howled through her office a half an instant later, obliterating everything in its path. *** Gunther watched from a safe distance with immense satisfaction as the Blue Eagle Hotel collapsed in on itself and then, an instant later, explode as its Infinity crystal vaporized, releasing what dark energy it had left. The shockwave hurtled outward, gulping the parking lot and everything beyond the epicenter of the hotel for a mile around. "Twin flight captains, I do believe I owe you and every man under your command bottles of 800-year-old Gaian wine and a sex slaves," Gunther said over his comlink. He smiled as the Stingrays performed victory maneuvers in the sky overhead. "Yes. Yes. I know how you all feel about that." *** One by one, global communications systems blanked out. Radios went on the fritz. Televisions showed nothing but static. Phone signals were jammed. The Internet went down, the supercomputers of its supporting backbone isolated from one another. Satellites were unresponsive. From the poorest peasant on the streets of some nameless slum to the most powerful man on Earth - President Al Gore in the Gray House in Washington, D.C. - people were isolated as they never had been before in an inter-connected world. Their isolation was short-lived. Earth's communications systems came back online within seconds of each other. And a man's powerful, muscle-rippled visage could be seen, or his deep voice heard. Or both. His message was simple. And chilling. "Greetings, citizens of Timeline 0576. I am Grand Fleet Lord Devus." A pause. "Your world now belongs to the Patriarchy, an empire that spans hundreds of timelines." He paused again, a slight smile parting his lips. "Don't believe me? Then step out of your homes, your schools, your businesses ... and look up into the heavens." The smile transformed into a snarl. "Welcome to hell, serfs!" He motioned to someone off-screen. "Let loose the dogs of war!" *** Editor's note: This story was a collaborative effort between MTG and Solari. Constructive commentary is appreciated, and may be left at Fictionmania via its review system or, if you wish, by sending an e-mail to the authors: MTG may be contacted at [email protected], and Solari may be contacted at [email protected]