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Me, Myself & I

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Exodus

Written by HendrixLives :: [Sunday, 10 March 2019 06:06] Last updated by :: [Monday, 22 April 2019 08:55]

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“What do you think really happened? Humans are hardly clever, but surely you don’t think that all Kryptonians simply waited for Krypton to die?” the woman said.

“It does seems unlikely,” I replied. I had arrived home, and found the woman in my house.

The woman smiled, a flash of white, straight teeth. She shifted in her chair. It was a distracting motion, and my eyes were drawn to her body. Her white blouse was simple, and contrasted with her tanned arms. The top also emphasised the fullness of her figure. Her jeans were expensive, and tight enough to suggest her legs were as toned and muscled as her arms. The clothes were subtle; not revealing but still showing off her, well, magnificence. I shifted too, feeling uncomfortable.

“We were guilty of underestimating the catastrophe. We don’t live forever, so some were prepared to accept Krypton’s fate as divine retribution. Most of us, though, did attempt to move to nearby planets, and it was only because they themselves became entrapped in the destruction that these rumours about the last son of Krypton arose. It’s always possible, though, that your comic book Superman is that stupid.”

“How many of you are here?”

“A few thousand. The catastrophe left 4 million Kryptonians in empty space, effectively in suspended animation. The exodus was undertaken under, in your world, Edwardian principles. Women and children first. The plan was to send small groups to each of 80 planets, and then recreate Krypton as a more abstract concept. That is still our objective. However, the enormous powers created by Krypton’s implosion caused all sorts of instabilities and wormholes. Our scientists here believe that our diaspora was to over 80 planets in 10 parallel universes. 400 Kryptonians arrived here; above the median of each colony population, but with a disproportionate number of woman. There are currently 1100 of us.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Human men, can with a little scientific manipulation, impregnate a Kryptonian egg. The result is always a Kryptonian woman, but the resulting DNA remains distinct, rather than risking any form of inbreeding. All humans are, in the judgement of all Kryptonians, of unassuming physical appearance. You did something brave last night. Pointless, but brave. Those men had no chance against me. It makes you worthy. I’m going to fuck you now.”

The woman stood. The movement was provocative. I didn’t know what to look at. Every part of me was overwhelmed by her appearance. I also knew what she had done. I had no way of telling whether the story about Krypton was true or not. However, I had watched her execute four large men, an exhibition of unimaginable power. Seeing is believing, and having seen, I believed.

“And why would I want to do that?” I had intended to sound nonchalant, but my voice was two octaves higher than usual. I had also started to sweat.

“Really?” The woman said, raising a perfect eyebrow in disbelief. “It isn’t about what you want. It’s about what I want.”

She then walked towards me. The movement was preternaturally fast, but an image of sensual and athletic grace was seared into my brain. I had been proud of my cool demeanour during the conversation, but now that the woman was within touching distance, her attractiveness crushed all conscious thought. My erection hardened, and my breath laboured. I could see nothing but her. I needed her. I would have dropped to my knees if she hadn’t grasped my neck and lifted me with one arm off the ground. The action was effortless on her part.

The woman spoke, and her velvet voice and the warmth of her breath pushed me to the brink. My need for her was all-consuming, my fingers and toes curling in spasmodic pleasure. I didn’t care. She was the perfect wave, and I would willingly pay any price of humiliation for the chance to ride it.

“Look at you,” the woman said. "I’ve barely touched you yet.” Her eyes sparkled, amused and disdainful at the same time. “I’ve read that a human male can ejaculate 100 times a month. I’m sure you won’t mind releasing some of that potential.”

She kissed me, and my mind, my soul, submitted unconditionally to her will. I came repeatedly, continuously, my hands scrabbling for purchase on the woman’s perfect butt, but unable to make any indentation in the steel of her glutes. Her breasts, full and firm, pressed against my chest. I continued to come. She then broke off the kiss, and I slumped against her listlessly, my head lolling while drool dribbling from my mouth. I was still hard and spasmed sporadically.

The woman dropped me. “I think you wanted me to do that,” she said. “I’ll see you again.” She reached down, and her hand rustled my head, which was now damp from unconscious exertion. It was a gentle gesture, and not without affection. Then she stood up, and I heard her quietly close the door when she left.

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