Psych (The Harem at the End of the Galaxy, #3), page 1
Psych
The Harem at the End of the Galaxy #3
By
Kyle Kenze
©2018 Kyle Kenze, All Rights Reserved
Cover Design ©2018 Ming Destiny
Except for brief passages quoted for reviews and/or recommendations in magazine, radio, or blog posts, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording, or by information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author. Please don't post my stories on sharing or pirate sites. The small fee you pay for my books allows me to continue writing the sexy sci-fi harem adventures you crave.
If you are offended by explicit descriptions of the realities of polygamous harem sex including nudity, multiple erotic encounters with a variety of thirsty women, threeway and more-way encounters, frequent physical contact between open-minded women, and a good helping of gratuitous swearing, then boy oh boy... you have picked up the wrong book. All characters are consenting adults over age 18.
This story is fiction written for entertainment. The cover models are for illustration purposes, and no model was involved in the activities described in this series. There may or may not be secret bunkers underneath the Pentagon, but the one described in this serial novel sure ain't them. This novella is around 11,000 words, and the entire 5-book novel-length series is around 57,000 words.
Table of Contents
Psych (The Harem at the End of the Galaxy, #3)
A Peek Inside
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
About Kyle Kenze
A Peek Inside
“Do you mind showing my friends that we're alone?” I asked.
Dyers wasn't a person who suffered fools gladly, but her nostrils flared, and I knew she'd caught scent of the galaxy girls' futuristic pheromones. “I'll humor you. This time.” Taking a device out of her bag, she held it high so we could see the steady green all-clear light. As she tucked it away again, she took another long look at Brandy. “What are you doing here?”
“She's a friend,” I said. “All three of these girls are friends. It's tough to find cool friends in D.C. You know that, General. It's so hard to find a party this time of day.”
“You and your friends want to party with a general for breakfast. I could have your security clearance lifted just for making that kind of suggestion.”
“I know, General, but I trust you to make the right decision. We understand each other. I have needs, you have needs, my friends have needs. And I seriously doubt you invited me over here at this time of day for a work meeting.”
Her eyes dropped to the level of my bulge. “We both know what you're here for. I just didn't expect the crowd scene. And I certainly didn't expect... a messenger girl.”
Brandy let her hips perform some kind of slinky snake dance as she sashayed toward the general. “Clayton keeps all these secrets. He didn't tell me you two fooled around, that he was your new boy toy. But I knew. My women's intuition told me. And I wanted in. Is that really so bad?” Stepping way too close to the older woman, she stroked her neck and shoulders with the firm touch of somebody who had studied massage. “It's going to be so much fun.”
“I shouldn't. I really shouldn't.” Dyers's pupils were blown wide. Evidence of desire.
Brandy now massaged the long muscles of Dyers's back through the stiff uniform fabric. “Nobody ever has to know. Your jamming device will guarantee that. Even if somebody was stupid enough to try to make a video, their device would be instantly zapped. And those two girls don't even have smartphones. Hell, they didn't even bring a purse.”
“It's just the five of us,” I said. “A private party. The deepest, darkest secret in D.C.”
Chapter 1
I carried the brown bags filled with the bottles Brandy picked out. Chocolate and red wine, evidently a well-known aphrodisiac for women. Since my arms were loaded, she had to slide her long hand into my jeans to feel around for my keys. Her special scent tickled my nostrils, and my dick stirred.
“Mmmm, somebody's impatient.”
“As if you're not.”
She opened my front door and stepped in ahead of me, then stopped dead in her tracks so fast I nearly bumped into her. “Guess your friends didn't wait for us.”
I stepped around her and set the bottles down on the nearest horizontal surface, but the scene didn't change. Somebody, presumably Darlene and Jing, had pulled my mattress into the living room, date night black satin sheets and all. The sheets in question were rumpled and even a bit damp, but there was no sign of the girls who'd left them that way.
“Darlene?” I called. “Jing?”
Brandy stayed close to me, a hand on my arm, as I walked through the apartment in search of the girls. Where could they be? I hated to think of innocent females from the future wandering through D.C. this close to midnight, especially since I didn't trust the way they'd be dressed.
Or... not dressed.
Fuck. I'd asked them to stay right here and watch television so they could figure out what they needed to look and act like to fit into our time.
“They ghosted you,” Brandy said.
“I guess.” Maybe they'd snapped back to their own time. That was a good thing, wasn't it? Maybe when I met Brandy at the nacho place, the damage in the timeline healed itself, and they went back to the world at the other end of the galaxy.
Maybe it wasn't a good thing. The aliens from Andromeda were hiding among them now, steadily working on a way to eliminate the final remnants of the human race.
Forty-eight hours. Lacey and Lily would be dead in forty-eight hours if we didn't do something.
If I didn't do something.
But what could I do?
“Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke,” Brandy said. “We don't need them to have a good time.” She didn't know about the whole end-of-the-world thing. As far as she was concerned, the issue was two no-shows at the orgy - not a rare thing in D.C., where everybody had second and third thoughts about their public reputation.
When she nuzzled me, I couldn't resist taking her into my arms. The impending extinction of all intelligent life in our galaxy seemed like too big a problem to handle with a hard-on this size.
“Don't you disappear on me too. Not this time.” Her hands slid down my back as she slipped easily to her knees. Using deft lips and tongue, she had my fly open and my cock out before I knew it.
A distraction, but a delicious one. And I'd think better if the pipes were clear.
“I'm not letting go of you until I get what I want. Not this time.” Planting little wet kisses up and down my shaft, she puckered up enough to glide just the tip into her warm mouth. A tease.
A shock of her red hair fell forward as she worked, the silky tresses tickling me in the best possible place. Her tongue was swirling now, moving around to make little flirty licks all up and down the length of my shaft. She wanted me, but she didn't want me fast. She wanted to hold on to me. To keep me here. To keep me from disappearing.
“I'm here,” I said. “I'm all the way here. Let me show you.”
We didn't take the time to put the bed together. Dropping to the carpet, I rolled on my back and pulled her on top of me. As we tumbled across the floor, we started pulling off each other's clothes. We didn't need any barriers between us. Her mouth, her hands, her sweet pussy with its steady stream of rich cream - they were everything on a night like this. She squirmed into a girl-on-top sixty-nine, and we sucked each other like that for a while, the bottle of chocolate-flavored wine forgotten because we were all the sweetness we needed.
We didn't talk, didn't negotiate. There was nothing to talk about and nothing to negotiate. We read each other's needs by instinct. The moment when she swung out of the sixty-nine to sit her silken pussy down on my upthrust prick was the exact moment I would have chosen myself. When we came together, she slumped on top of me, reluctant to break contact, and I liked her there.
This was real - the sticky heat that was a little too hot, the athletic sweat of energetic orgasm making our naked bodies shine from head to toe.
“Stay here a minute,” she said, her voice husky in the afterglow. “You can stay here a minute.”
I tightened my arms around her. “I'm here. I'm still here.”
“I keep thinking you're going to pop out of existence again. I saw you, Clayton. Am I crazy? I saw you. That time at Brass Macchiato. I saw you.”
“If you're crazy, I'm crazy too.” But I wasn't, and she wasn't. We were real, we were here.
“Don't go wherever it is you go. Not now, not just yet. Promise me.”
“I won't. I'm here. I promise.”
But the promise was a lie. I could already see the blurred mist of the vortex forming around me.
Brandy saw it too, and she glued herself full-length to me, her sweet warmth sticky against my long body.
I'd never been able to bring forward so much as a stitch of clothing, but the rules must be different for people.
Brandy was snapping forward into time along with me.
Chapter 2
We were back on the Moon again, the blue marble of Earth hanging heavy in the starlit sky above us. Brandy's auburn tresses, still mussed from our exertions, tumbled down her smooth back as she finger-combed her messy hair.
Kicking up a puff of lunar dust, she walked over to read the plaque about the preservation of footprints from the first American astronauts who visited the Moon in the late sixties and early seventies. “What the actual fuck?”
Had that plaque always been in English? I was pretty sure it hadn't been. On the real Moon, sure, but not this futuristic copy.
The timeline had changed, but maybe it was for the better. It could hardly be for the worse, since an alien race had exterminated all the male humans in the previous one.
“Really? I mean really?” Her eyes rolled to the black sky full of stars above us.
“You're good,” I said. “You guessed right away it was a fake.”
“Well, yeah. The real Moon doesn't have a breathable atmosphere or, really, any atmosphere. Also, it's a low-gravity environment. We've all seen the video of those guys flying around in big-ass spacesuits like they weigh about as much as a feather.” She walked around, kicking up some more dust. “So this has to be some kind of fake-ass tourist trap. And where there's tourist traps, there's probably tourists and people to sell shit to the tourists. Maybe we can pick up a fucking tee-shirt and yoga pants or something.”
“Sure,” I said. “Some clothes are always a nice thing to have when you're new in town.” The women at the end of the galaxy wouldn't be freaked out by a little nudity, but I'd let Brandy get used to the situation a little bit at a time.
Our own footprints, I suddenly realized, were self-healing. After we took a few steps, they were gone. How the effect was achieved, I had no idea, but it was an eerie way of creating the sense you were utterly alone on a deserted Moon.
“Kind of hard to figure out which way to go,” she said.
I remembered the direction Darlene had come from. “Let's try that way.”
Naked, hand-in-hand, we strolled across the faux lunar landscape and around a smallish mountain that I recognized as being made of an artificial rock not much different from the artificial rock of our time. A small teahouse of some kind was set up on the other side, although it appeared to be manned by nobody except a couple of stainless steel robots with bright blue light-up eyes.
She sat, and I sat. A robot walked over to the table with a teapot, two cups, and a plate full of chocolate truffles. Despite the nachos, we'd burned a few calories, so Brandy automatically reached for one of the truffles. “It's got orange on the inside,” she said.
“Mine too.”
“What the hell's going on here, Clayton? I mean, you've been promoted into some top-secret super-spy espionage shit at the Pentagon, and I don't necessarily have the security clearance to get all the fine details but...” She gestured with her half-bitten chocolate in the direction of the teahouse window, which had a fine view of the distant mountains. “But come on. I'm here. I don't want to hear any ‘in the interests of national security’ horseshit. You have to tell me what the fuck is going on.”
“I would've told you before, but I thought you wouldn't believe me. I tried to tell the general, but she definitely didn't believe me.”
“So you really did have a high-level meet with the general. I heard that rumor, but I figured you two were just fucking around. She gives off some thirsty vibes, that one.”
“There was a meeting, and there was fucking around.” I couldn't repress a smile at the memory. General Dyers was definitely a lot more fun with her clothes off.
“Do you call her Daisy? Inquiring minds want to know.”
“Oh, fuck, no. If you ever get the opportunity to mess around with the general, call her Chase. That seems safe enough, as long as her legs are open.”
“Good to know. And I have a feeling you're holding back a lot of other stuff it would be real good for me to know.”
There was a pause as I tried to figure out where to start.
“Just tell me what's happening, Clayton. Is this some kind of psychological warfare they're developing? Messing with people's minds, fucking up their sense of reality? Is that what this is?”
“If it is, they've messed with mine.” I shook my head and began to walk her through all the crazy stuff that had happened since the first time I woke up in the clinic at the far end of the galaxy. Hard to believe it was barely a week ago.
So much had happened, and yet so little. I'd donated my uncontaminated spunk pretty much everywhere anybody wanted it, but I wasn't sure yet how much it really moved the needle. We were running out of time. Maybe forty-two hours left. Maybe less. I still wasn't sure when the alien virus would arrive on earth. All I knew was the L-clones were running out of time, and soon the other clones would be infected too.
And then there wouldn't be anybody left. No men, no women.
No intelligent life in our galaxy at all.
Brandy didn't have a lot of questions. The fact she was sitting here in a robot-operated restaurant on the Moon, or anyway a sort of Moon, was pretty convincing evidence that I was telling the truth to the best of my knowledge.
“Let me get this straight,” she said. “You're here because you were the only man left after the virus infected the Earth because you were down in a secret sub-sub-sub basement underneath the Pentagon and underneath all the other secret sub-sub-sub basements and somehow you got the time machine working by yourself to transport yourself to...” She shook her head. “Some planet on the other side of the galaxy where the virus hadn't reached. Except now it has reached here, and now it's getting busy wiping up what's left of the human race.”
“Yeah. Basically. Yeah.”
“Well, fuck me, Clayton, but how the fuck are we supposed to fix this?”
“I was hoping you'd have some ideas. We can't do this alone. It's too big.”
Two shadows popped up in the window, blocking our view of the mountains. And then they coalesced into two beautiful women. Darlene and Jing.
“I hope the cavalry just arrived,” Brandy said.
Chapter 3
The robots with the light-up blue eyes brought more tea and orange-centered chocolate truffles.
Darlene and Jing were naked too. They hadn't traveled here however you normally traveled here. They'd bounced here. Just like Brandy and I had bounced. Like me, they had become unmoored from their place in spacetime.
“We've been working on this problem for centuries, but we never get very far because clones are not creative, and even our most powerful AIs are not creative either.” Darlene gestured with a chocolate truffle, an expansive gesture which lifted her beautiful chest. “We need something new, but we haven't been able to come up with anything new because, well, thinking up new shit is what you guys did back in the past. It isn't what we do in the here and now.”
“We need the assistance of your technology,” Jing said. “Your think tanks. Your Pentagon.”
“Well, you have my attention.” Brandy's voice was dry. She'd gotten used to being naked in the company of naked, but she still couldn't help shaking her head from time to time. “There's a problem you seem to be overlooking, though.”
“Brandy's not brass,” I said. “She's just a messenger girl. And I'm just a lab rat they plan to experiment on. You don't get any lower at the Pentagon unless you're the actual guy who cleans the toilets.”
“We can't smuggle high technology out of the building,” Brandy said. “And we sure the fuck can't smuggle it out of the deepest hidden bunker underneath the building. I can't even get down there to begin with. Clayton has clearance, but they don't even let him in with a fucking phone. He goes in naked and wears the clothes they give him to wear, and he's never getting out of there with any technology you can use.”
“What you need is a high-level security clearance that gives you access to high-level technology. And we just...” I shook my head. “We've got no way of getting that. I've been promoted beyond my pay grade already. It's not likely to happen again and certainly not any time soon.”
