The Weapon - Exodus - part 3
By Diana the Valkyrie
Is that a tent pole down there or are you glad to see me?


I had just drifted off into that halfway point between wakefulness and sleep,
the point at which your brain is just winding down and everything is grey,
when I felt someone getting into the bed with me. Something that smelt good,
felt good and whispered "Is that a tent pole down there or are you glad to see
me?"

I thought about the idea of Wendy in the bed with me, and then I thought about
Duncan in the next room. "Are you crazy?" I whispered. "Get out of here!" She
was silent. I waited, but nothing happened. I turned to look at her, and she
was crying very very quietly, the tears running down her face. "Wendy, don't
cry" I whispered. "You, you don't want, you don't. I was, you don't, what?"
"Wendy, it isn't that I don't want you, of course I do, you can see for
yourself. But Duncan, you can't do this, it's wrong." "Oh, don't worry about
Duncan," she sniffled. "Wendy, you love him, right?" "Right." "Well, suppose
he finds out." "He can't" "Wendy, don't be silly, he might wake up and find
you're not there and go looking, and ..." "No, he can't find out. Because he
already knows I'm here," and she gave me her "it's stopped raining" smile.

"He knows?" "Yes, we talked about it before I came. George, don't you want me
to have sex with you, I can see you do, what's the matter?" "Duncan." "But I
already told you, we discussed it, he thinks it's OK for me to, to. You know.
Whatever." I sighed. Was ever a man so tempted? "Wendy," I hissed, although
it's pretty difficult to hiss a name without sibilants. "He's in the next
room, he'll hear, he'll know. Maybe it's fine by him, but it's not fine by
me." Sometimes I say the stupidest things, if she'd taken that one seriously
and left, I'd spend the rest of my life kicking myself. "George, first of all
he's fast asleep, I've, you know. Administered a tranquiliser." "What? You've
drugged him up?" "No, don't be silly. There's ways of tranquilising a man that
don't involve either Valium or soothing music." Suddenly I twigged what she
was hinting at. "Oh. I see." "And secondly he said it's OK, because I do owe
you a big one." "Yes, but I know he's there, and it will, sort of, er, put me
off my stroke, to use a cricketing expression." "Oh."

She paused for a moment. "Well, I know how to handle that. I know a place we
can go, it'll be warm and cozy and soft, soft as a cotton wool cloud."
"Where?" "So it's all systems go?" "As long as we're a couple of miles from
here." "OK, clear for take-off?" "Take-off?" "Magneto on" and she put her arm
round my back. "Contact", and her other hand made contact with my crotch.
"Chocks away," and we floated out through the open window, which made me
realise that this was what she had planned all along. "You sneaky snake," I
said, "where are we going?" "Up, up and away ..." she replied as we soared
into the night sky.

A few minutes later, we broke through the clouds. The moon was full, a
bomber's moon, and with the clouds below us, the sky was brilliant with stars.
And absolutely brass monkeys. "Wendy, I thought you said it would be warm and
cozy." "You'll be warm soon enough when I get the revs up," she promised, "but
for now ..." and she wrapped her long silky cape around my naked body. As she
flew upwards, I began to feel a bit better. "This cape," I said, fingering it,
"that's not actually what it looks like, right? It's part of you, from what
you were saying." "That's right," she whispered into my ear, "I'm all around
you now." I shivered, not out of cold, not out of fear, but from knowing that
I was wrapped up in Wendy, a rather nice feeling.

She drifted to a halt, and we hovered. "How high are we?" "About three miles
up." She rotated until she was horizontal, with me on top. Her legs came up to
surround my hips, her arms were around my body and, not wishing to leave all
the running to her, I found her mouth with mine and since she'd left my arms
free, I got my hands on her breasts.

You can probably imagine what happened next. "Don't try to change position,
George, you'll feel safest like this." I wasn't intending to change position,
this one felt pretty damn good. Then she wiggled, bumped, and pulled, and I
began to understand the Mixmaster joke. "Wendy?" "Mmm?" "Wendy, what's
happening, what's that?" "Me. I'm happening, that's me." "But how are you
pulling me like that?" "George, how many times do I have to tell you, I'm not
actually a woman." "You are in all the more important aspects." "Well, here's
an aspect that's different."

I've had blow jobs before, and I've fucked a few women in my time. And I
thought I knew the difference. Wendy blurred the difference, this was half and
half. It was warm in there, and wet, and tight, and slithery. It was the best
place in the world, and the worst. I could see how a guy could get to like
this, to like this so much that you'd lose interest in conventional
alternatives. And after she'd brought me to a shuddering climax, she said "OK,
that was just to warm up, a bit of foreplay. Now we'll begin." Begin? I was
finished already. "Wendy, please, wait one minute, let me get my breath back."
She held off, but she was impatiently rubbing me to and fro against her body.
Her skin was soft, and there was no hint of the steel that was a short
distance beneath, except that her nipples were hard, digging into my chest,
almost painfully so.

The second round began with her mouth around my penis, her tongue stroking up
and down the underside. I was stiff within seconds, but she held me steady
while she continue the sexual torment. Then she spun me around, and I
discovered that the Mixmaster had a juice squeezer that could squeeze blood
from a stone. And I, in this case, was the stone. But not for long. Despite my
best efforts to refrain from reaching a conclusion, I lasted no more than a
couple of minutes inside her.

"Wendy," I whispered, "you're too much." "Too much is better than not enough,"
she responded, turning me to face away from her. And with some trepidation, I
felt something long and hard pressing between the cheeks of my arse. "What's
that?" I asked, nervously. "A finger, what did you think?" I relaxed. "I'm
never sure with you, I don't really know exactly what you've got there. Or
might have there that you've been hiding." She laughed, and it was a good
sound, a reassuring sound, and a sound I wanted to hear more of. "Wendy,
please," I pleaded, "let me relax for just a few minutes." She turned me back
to face her, and I nestled my head on her breasts. She pulled her cape over me
again, and stroked my hair. "You know, I'd never thought of your cape as being
a sex toy before." "Everything's a sex toy, George." "Especially me," I
suggested. She laughed again.

"Wendy, look at all the stars, there's millions of them." "Six thousand,
actually. That's all the human eye can see unaided." "Oh. Which one is yours?"
"None of them." "I mean, which one did you come from?" "None of them. The
Black Hole Folk don't live near a star, they just cruise around from place to
place; think of nomads, eternal wanderers. They don't need territory, or
light, or heat. A couple of them flew past this solar system, made me and
dropped me off as they went past. I fell into the Earth's gravity well, found
a good man to be my Wielder, and here I am." "How did you choose Duncan? And
why not someone, er, younger, more ... vigorous?"

"Because sex is great, but it's really important to me to have someone with
wisdom and maturity to tell me what to do, because I can't decide important
things for myself, it has to be someone from your species, your race, your
culture. So it can't be some young pup like you, George, it has to be someone
with a few grey hairs, like Duncan." "But why specifically him?" "I don't
actually know, that choice was made for me. I had a short list of guys to
approach, but I was lucky, and my first choice said 'yes'". "Wendy, with the
offer you made, anyone would say 'yes'". "Oh, George, you are sweet. Here ..."
"Oh." "And ... " "Oh. Oh." "This is what Duncan calls my eggbeater." "You can
beat my eggs any time you want. Oh. Oh OOOHHHH!!!!"

...

"Shouldn't you be doing more, I mean getting kittens out of trees will only
get you just so much karma." "Duncan and I talk about that a lot. The problem
is, what should I do?" "Well, you could patrol over London each night, looking
for crime to fight." "What does crime look like, George?" "Well, er." "I'm not
going to put parking tickets on cars. I'm not going to stop people smoking in
non-smoking areas. And I'm not going to kill ten-armed alien space monsters."
"But that's exactly what you should be doing, the monsters, I mean." "Um.
Problem is, sweets, you can go entire weeks without seeing any." "And then
three come at once. What about stopping wars, ending world hunger, doing the
Times crossword puzzle?" "Duncan does that. The puzzle, I mean. How do I stop
wars? Duncan can't see how, and it's no use asking me." "Well, I don't know.
but with all the power you have, it's got to be wrong for you to do nothing
with all the death and pain in the world." "George, I tell you what. In a few
hours from now, just when dawn the rosy fingered lightens the wine-dark sea,
I'll show you why it's not that simple. But until then ..." and I felt a
strong hand, gently in my groin. Stirring the pot. Squeezing the spoon. Firing
up my engine, one cylinder at a time. Then revving me up to speeds that
exceeded my design specification; no man was ever made that could keep up with
The Weapon when she was In The Mood, and wow, she was certainly in the mood
tonight. Although, from what I'd heard so far, she was like this every night?
How did Duncan survive? How did he manage to stand up in the morning? How did
he, how did she, oh, oh, please, stop, don't stop, no, yes, YESSSSS!!!!

...

I think I lost count. I know I lost count. Hell, I wasn't counting. You don't
have to count to know whether it's one, two or three, but once you get past
five, either you're counting, or you don't know. And since I hadn't been
counting, it not having occurred to me that it might be a useful thing to do,
I didn't know. Although I'm not sure what I could do with the information, you
can't exactly boast to your friends about how many times you've been brought
to orgasm by the Defender of the People. Problem is, they just aren't going to
believe you. Plus it somehow wasn't the sort of thing you would brag about.

But I do know that the last one was the best. Or maybe it was just that she
found the level that I couldn't go beyond. The sky was just beginning to lost
the deep black velvet colour as she demonstrated her ability to stroke me
inside of her while gripping me so tightly that I was unable to reach orgasm,
although by that time I wasn't certain that there was any orgasm left inside
of me to have, I was entirely depleted, detumescent and unmanned. Or not - I
discovered that there was indeed quite a lot left when she suddenly released
the tight grip while increasing the friction that spurred me to orgasm for the
last time. I fought and struggled to stop her from pushing me over the edge,
but her strong arms held me as helpless as a kitten as she made my body do
exactly what she wanted it to do. And as the night sky turned from dark to
light, my consciousness turned from light to dark, and her strong arms wrapped
her soft silky cape round me as I feel into a deep sleep.

She woke me soon after. We were much lower in the sky, just a couple of
hundred feet up. The sun had just peeked above the horizon, and I could hear
the dawn chorus as the early birds marked out their territory. She pointed
above us, and high in the sky I could see an airborne predator circling.
"That's a hawk," she said, "she's looking for her prey." Then she pointed
down, where the sparrows were just getting aloft in their search for seeds and
small insects. Suddenly, the hawk folded her wings, and stooped. "The hawk
will now kill one of those birds. The question is, George, should I protect
the birds from the hawk?" I thought about this for about a second, there
obviously wasn't much time. "Yes," I shouted, "quick, quick." Wendy went into
a dive, holding me firmly round the waist, and I clung to her neck. Her cape
flared out behind her like a huge wing as she levelled out, and the hawk,
still plummeting, and with very little control, crashed into the soft and
silky cape. The hawk seemed dazed for a moment, but soon recovered, and
flapped back into the sky. The sparrows had seen the drama, and had scattered
and hidden themselves.

"Now what, George? I can stay here all day, protecting the smaller birds from
the hawk. Or I could catch the hawk and wring its neck. Or I can fly you home
and we can talk about this." "Let's go home, Wendy. I think I see what you
mean."

I was slightly surprised when she took me, not to her home, but to mine.
"Wendy ... how did you know where I live?" "I looked you up in the phone book.
George, I'm not going to explain how I do everything, I'm sure you don't ask
ordinary folks that sort of thing." She took me up to the bedroom. "Because
you didn't get much sleep last night, did you?" she chuckled. "Mmmm. Wendy,
you don't have to leave just yet, do you?" "No, no hurry. Why?" "I wanted to
talk about hawks and sparrows. I've been thinking about what you showed me."

We sat on my bed together. I moved toward her, and she took me into her arms,
With a deep sigh, I tucked my head between her shoulder and her cheek,
breathing through a mouthful of her hair, and she held me in that position,
stroking my hair. "Go on," she said. "Well," I explained, "it's the key
problem of interfering in other people's lives. You can save the life of a
sparrow, but then the hawk goes hungry." "And the hawk's babies." "And the
hawk will hunt again, but you can't spend your whole life defending sparrows
against hawks." "Right. Plus, if I did, I might as well wring the hawk's neck,
it would be kinder than a gradual starvation after watching her babies die."
"So how does this translate to people?" "It's like this. You can see something
bad about to happen, and you can rush in and stop it. But if you don't take
into account all the side effects, you can wind up being totally ineffective,
or even doing more harm than good. The hawk will kill a sparrow, but it'll
just be a different one. The hawk will feed her chicks, the dead sparrow's
chicks will die. The hawk thinks it is good; the sparrow thinks it is evil.
Who is right? Who is wrong? This is not good, nor is it evil. It's just the
way it is."

"Couldn't you fight terrorists and guerrillas?" "Again, George - it isn't
always as simple as you think. Consider the French Resistance, during WW2.
Consider Lawrence of Arabia, in WW1. Consider the original guerrillas, the
Spanish fighting against Napoleon after their government had surrendered. Who
is right? Who is wrong? If you just go in with all guns blazing, you can be
killing the wrong people." "But it isn't always so ambiguous, surely?" "No,
that's right. When 400 square miles of blazing forest is threatening to burn a
city, and fire fighters are losing their lives each day to try to contain it,
then it's probably right to put the fire out." "Probably?" "Forest fires
aren't evil. They're just a natural thing." "But there's no good side to a
forest fire!" "Tell that to the new plants that can grow because the overhead
canopy that was blocking the sun, isn't there any more. Tell that to the fauna
that can now live on that new growth. OK, this is a small plus to put against
the large negative, but you can see that even in such a simple situation ...
it isn't that simple."

"But you must do something! With all your power, you can't just stand by and
watch people suffer!" "George, George, George. You aren't listening. What
about all the situations where, whatever I do, all that happens is that
different people suffer instead? What about the situations where, whatever I
do, I just increase the total suffering?" "But that's just an excuse for doing
nothing!" "No, it's a reason for working out the consequences of your actions
before you act. Which you failed to do when you asked me to save that sparrow.
And that's why I need Duncan, why I need him so much. I can't see these
complex consequences, and he can at least see some of them. "

I was silent for a while. "So what's the answer?" "The answer, George, is that
you had a tough day yesterday, and no sleep last night. You'll go to sleep
now, and I'll be gone when you wake up, several hours from now. And if you
ever need me, if you're in danger, or if your ill, or if you're just lonely
... call me, and I'll come, because I'm your friend. "My friend The Weapon," I
murmured into her neck. She held me until I fell asleep, wrapped safe in her
arms, her warm soft body holding me close, and with the comforting smell of
her in every breath that entered my lungs.

...