I resent that, I really do.

I know they're generous, but to say my tits look like beach balls...  Don't you
think that's a little cruel?  They're not really all that big, it's just that I'm
slender ...

Okay, so they ARE that big.

He seemed to like them well enough when he was mauling them, the prick. Besides,
he's one to talk about somebody's size.  I don't like to knock a man's physical
endowments -- but I've sucked bigger toothpicks.

Another thing.  Maybe I am a little kinky, but I have NOT been tied up more often
than Dial-A-Slut.  No matter what he says.  And anyway, it was all in the line of
duty.

Prissy 007 Brit bastard.  Next time I see him, I'll tell him where to shove his
"double oohhhhs"...

Well, yeah, the briefcase.  I guess that might seem a little weird, but really,
haven't you ever heard of the spoils of war?  It's not like they pay me a
helluvalot, y'know.  I'm entitled to some pleasure for risking life and...
whatever for my country.

Look, just listen to my side of it, willya?

*   *   *

The first thing I saw when I opened my apartment door was my own bare ass, framed
and hanging in the hallway.  It was my centerfold spread for Creamy and
Tight--the one that impressed P so much he offered me a job working for ORGASM
(the ORGanization for American Special Missions).  And it IS pretty impressive,
if I do say so myself.  You don't know how difficult it is to strike a pose that
shows off your breasts and spread rump at the same time.  My back hurt for a
week. But it's worth it whenever a guy opens the door and sees that shot.  I love
the way their eyes glaze over and they make that funny rasping sound when they
breathe...

Anyway, I was really exhausted that night; secret jaunts to Lebanon really take
it out of a girl.  What with jetlag--not to mention foreplay and gunplay with a
gang of sex-crazed terrorists--I was just about played out.

So I had no idea he was in the apartment.

I had just shouldered past the door with my luggage, blinking sleepily at the
long, rosy nipples and furry pussy of my centerfold self, when I caught a glimpse
of movement out of the corner of one eye.  Turning my head, I got a really great
head-on view of a fist the size of Nebraska. Coming right at my face.  Lights
out.

*   *   *

Now, most women would have been rather alarmed to wake up naked, spread-eagled,
and chained to a bed.

But when you're Licenced to Cum, it's business as usual.

(Yeah, I know that prissy Brit bastard is licenced to kill--and he gets real smug
about it, too--but personally, I'd rather cum any day.)

So I just blinked at the ceiling, fighting a headache and trying to figure out
which of my kinky acquaintances had done the honors.  I ruled out actual
boyfriends, having a real painful memory of the fist- the-size-of-Nebraska. 
Which still left the field wide open, if you'll pardon the pun.

Lessee.  There was Glitterprick, he was the type to hold a grudge, and Dr.
Anytime, and Hardon, and that bisexual bitch Pussy Kumalot, and...

But before I could even get started on my rather lengthy list of amorous enemies,
my captor ducked through the doorway.  And my blood ran cold.

Vlad.

Oh shit.  It was time to kiss my tits goodbye, 'cause he was going to kill me for
sure.

He had white blond hair on a head that looked a whole lot like somebody had taken
a granite block and carved a face into it.  His eyes were chips of blued steel,
and the smile he wore was enough to make a girl wish there was a convent handy. 
He was a good seven feet tall, with arms the size of my waist and legs bigger
than my whole body, and every inch of him looked a whole lot like muscle, but
wasn't.  It was plastic and steel and ceramics and microchips.

Vlad was an android.

He was also the nastiest, most skillful, most vicious stone killer on the face of
the planet, and if somebody had hired him to do me, I was done.

I started babbling.

"Please tell Glitterprick I'm real sorry about interfering with his plans for
global domination but really I had a job to do, and I'm sorry about the grenade
and the waterbed, and if he wants me to take care of the dry cleaning bill for
those silk sheets, I'll..."

"I vas not hired by Glitterprick," Vlad said in his deep voice. Normally, Slavic
accents make my toes curl, but just then my toes weren't in the mood.  (Though
there was this KGB interrogator one time that... Well, that's another story.)

"Oh," I said.  "Well, if this is about Dr. Anytime and that plan of his to put
aphrodisiacs in feminine hygiene products, I was just following orders.  I mean,
personally I don't see any reason half the human race shouldn't become mindless
sex slaves, heck, I might even enjoy..."

"It vas not Dr. Anytime, either."

"Hardon?"

"Not yet."

I blinked.  He couldn't have meant that the way it sounded; he was an android,
for God's sake.  "No, I was asking if it was Hardon.  I know he was pissed about
my stealing that nuclear powered vibrator, but really, Maggie Thatcher was going
out of office anyway, and..."

"Novun hired me."

"Who the hell is Novun?"

"No.  Vun," he enunciated.

"Oh.  No ONE."

"Are you criticizing my accent?" he asked, in a voice that sounded like two
glaciers humping.

"What accent?"  Quickly changing the subject, I asked, "Uh, I gather this is...
personal, then?"

"You might say that."  Moving with surprising grace for a man the approximate
size and weight of a forklift, Vlad moved to the bed and sat down beside my
spread and naked body.  As I watched, quivering, he sat a briefcase down on the
night table.  I had no doubt at all that it held an array of horrible instruments
of torture.

"I... I don't know what I did to offend you, but I'd be happy to apologize, and I
have a really fat bank account if that would help, and I don't know what's in
that briefcase but please don't..."

Vlad swiveled his square head to look down at me.  His slow smile looked as
though it was cracking his face.  "They said at PTA meeting you are good at
begging."

I blinked, astonished.  "You belong to the Parent Teacher Association?"

He blinked back.  "No, Psychotics, Terrorists and Assassins. Glitterprick said
you beg almost as vell as you suck cock.  Even British secret agent, vhatizface,
he said you could give him hardon just by vay your voice breaks vhen you plead
vit him."

I snorted.  "That isn't saying much.  A hamster wrapped in duct tape could give
James a hardon.  The man is a bigger slut than *I* am. Waitaminute.  JAMES is in
the PTA?  Sounds like conflict of interest."

"No, subject came up vhen I vas trying to pound in his face."

Jesus.  I knew guys discussed things like that in locker rooms, but...

"He also said you vould fuck anything vit legs," Vlad rumbled.

"Not so.  I have never fucked a Doberman.  Yeah, there WAS this real friendly
Irish Wolfhound one time, but then, I was reeeal drunk..."

"You have also," said Vlad, "never fucked android."  And with that, he reached
over and snapped open the briefcase.

I cowered.  Then my curiosity got the better of me, and I cautiously craned my
neck.  To see, nested in black velvet, the most astounding array of dildoes I
have ever seen in my life.

"I have legs," Vlad pointed out.

"And if something ever happens to them, you could walk on one of these," I
muttered.  And he could've, too.  Some of those mechanical pricks were absolutely
HUGE.  And the rest... I haven't seen such an assemblage of kinky hardware since
I broke into Pussy Kumalot's Arsenal of Love.  A couple of Vlad's mechanical
dicks looked completely human, but the majority had all sorts of interesting
knobs, ridges, and, God help me, spikes.  I even spotted several that were
forked.

"Hot damn," I murmured, awed.

"Black and Decker makes best power tools in vorld," Vlad said, by way of
agreement.  "Do you have preference?"

"Well, I kind of like the one with the spiral...  Say what?"

He was undressing, peeling the black sweater he wore off his massive chest.  I
forgot the question.  Vlad may have been an android, but he was an awfully studly
android.  Thick muscle formed so many mounds, bumps and ridges that his torso
looked like a contour map of San Francisco.  And his chest hair was so rich and
thick it was practically a pelt.  "Boy," I said, "your creator really went all
out to make you look human, didn't he?"

Vlad nodded.  "In all but one area."  Then he stood up to skim out of his tight
black pants, and I stared.  Where his cock should have been, there was what
looked like a computer socket with about a thousand pins.  I could feel my eyes
going round as he casually picked out a prick from the briefcase and plugged it
in.  "He vas not terribly interested in sex, you see.  But, over years, I have
grown curious. So I made certain modifications."  He gestured at the mechanical
phallus.  "That is vhere you come in.  I have heard much about your talents."  He
paused, and looked at me with those cold steel eyes.  "I vant you to teach me
about sex."

"Uh," I said, "are you saying you're a VIRGIN?"

"Not for long."

And honest to God, the prick he was wearing SPUN.  With a whirring noise.  Kind
of like a drill bit.

"Yeep," I said.

I'd opened my mouth to add, "Not tonight, dear, I have a headache," when it
occurred to me that his solution to THAT problem might be to rip the offending
body part off my shoulders.  So instead I smiled sweetly and said, "Hey, I'm
easy."

"So they tell me," he rumbled.

I made a mental note to find the people who'd told him that and do exquisitely
hostile things to them.

Vlad moved to loom beside the bed.  I gazed up at him, trying not to quiver. 
"Vhat," he said, "do I do to you first?"

I swallowed hard.  "Well, you, ummmm, touch me."

"Vhere?" he asked politely.

"Hell, I don't know.  Wherever you want."

He sat down beside me again, cold eyes leaving a wake of chills as they scanned
down my body.  "I like these," he announced suddenly, and reached for both my
breasts.

"A lot of men have that reaction," I squeaked.  And jumped as his massive hands
engulfed my boobs.

"A handful," he rumbled.  "Even for me."

I cringed, waiting for those huge paws to crush painfully into my skin, but
instead his grip was surprisingly gentle as he slowly began to knead.  "I see vhy
human men are fascinated by these.  They are soft, texture smooth, like silk,
yes?"  A thick thumb brushed across my nipple once, then paused and swept across
it again.  And again.  I shifted in my chains.  With great delicacy, he caught
the pink bud between two fingers, began to roll and pull it.  "Is right?"

"Yes," I gasped.  The texture of his fingertips was just rough enough to send hot
flares through my breast.

Watching my nipple bead, Vlad made a pleased humming sound. "Is right. Perhaps I
suck now."  And his blond head swooped. Vlad may not have been human, but his
mouth could have fooled me. His tongue felt wet and hot as it stroked and rasped
over my nipple, and his lips were soft as he closed them and began to suck.

At the same time, one of his huge hands went exploring down the length of my
ribs, stroking the thin tight flesh of my hip. My enraptured senses were tracking
it, waiting for him to touch my suddenly needy pussy, when his teeth began to
rasp delicately over my nipple.  I moaned.

"Are you sure," I gasped, "that you've never done this before?"

"Good assassin always does research.  Watched 30 hours of porno flicks."

I wondered rather nervously if any of them had had titles like "The Joys of
Flagellation."  But then he started sucking again, and I forgot to worry.

Meanwhile, that hand I'd been interested in earlier had found its way to my
pussy.  Vlad's fingers were the size of some pricks I've had; the sensation of
one of them sliding into me made my hips jerk.

As he started a slow, relentless thrusting, simultaneously strumming my clit with
his thumb, Vlad moved his mouth to the other breast and began to nibble.  A
second finger traced its way between my ass cheeks, began to burrow.  My back
arched as it entered me.

"If you're interested in fucking me," I somehow managed to announce, "now would
be a good time."

"Not yet."

I'd opened my mouth to beg when he started nibbling his way toward his busy
fingers.  Finally his long tongue discovered my clit, circled it, laved it
delicately.  His fingers thrust brutally deeper into my pussy and rump.  Pumped. 
My thigh muscles started to spasm, and I writhed, keening with the rise of my
orgasm.

But before it could peak, Vlad reared, jerking his head and hands away from me. 
I started to gasp a protest, but then he was on me, his weight coming down on his
rigid arms, his mechanical prick ramming into my heat and cream like a missile. 
Then, by God, it started to SPIN, and I hit escape velocity.

Vlad was thrusting, massive body hunched over mine, shuttling that deliciously
superhuman shaft in and out of me, pelvis mashing into my clit.  I screamed at
about the same time I heard him roar, and my orgasm pulsed and pulsed and
pulsed...

When I finally came down enough to know where I was, he was curled around me on
his side, one massive leg thrown across my hips.

"All in all," Vlad rumbled, sounding smug, "most successful experiment."

*   *   *

Vlad and I experimented quite a few times in the next week. In fact, we
experimented our way right through the contents of that briefcase.  Of course, I
walked kind of funny when I got home, but sometimes you have to make sacrifices
for science.

Anyway, before he left, my android Don Juan ended up presenting me with the
briefcase, explaining that he wanted to give me something to remember him by.

Besides, he said a couple of his mechanical pricks needed more research and
development.

Apparently he did get the bugs worked out, because at last month's meeting of the
FFF (that's Fellowship of Femme Fatales to you), I heard my fellow fatales
calling him "Vlad the Impaler."

The sluts.

Not that he dumped me, or anything.  In fact, he still drops by every couple of
weeks to knock me unconscious and chain me to a bed.

Who'd have guessed Vlad was such a romantic?