The two MMDI time travel agents who also are intimate partners sit at their round dining table in matching chairs and face each other in the sequestration living quarters. Since they are off duty in casual mode, they are wearing only the agency regulated black tight-fitting shorts. Both men have facial expressions which betray their clear-cut irritation and annoyance. Vincent Wauneka frowns as his right hand pushes away a triangular food tray with multiple sections containing nondescript semi-solid goop. “I never thought I would miss the crew cafeteria. The tray probably has more taste than this slop we are supposed to put in our mouths,” he says. Ted Avila nods in agreement and he also pushes his food tray aside.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” says the image of Eduardo on the large screen near the round table where the two agents are seated. He adds, “When you go on your missions to Earth, it is expected that you will enjoy taking advantage of actual food and beverages available to you there. The food replication unit in this sequestration living quarters is very limited and only intended to provide necessary short-term nourishment.”
Vincent Wauneka replies, “Nourishment? Really? Is that what you call this?” Ted Avila quickly says, “So, wait a second, Eduardo. Are you hinting that Vincent and I will get assigned to missions on Earth instead of continuing to hold here in sequestration for several more days?”
“Yes, but not a hint,” Eduardo explains. “There was never any intent on my part to hold you both here for an extended period. Ten days have elapsed since General Yang sent you here.”
Vincent Wauneka answers back, “Feels more like ten months, Eduardo.”
“The estimation is that most other agents will presume the two of you are on missions. They would never begin to image that you were sequestered down here,” Eduardo says.
“What we’re saying, Eduardo, is we are not accustomed to being in such a confined and small space,” Ted Avila admits. “We haven’t done any work at all for ten days now. This feels like punishment to us.”
Eduardo explains, “I am going to be completely transparent with you two. The ten days away from regular duty was never meant as punishment. And now there is an urgent issue on Earth—classified top-secret—that requires you two to be sent on a mission immediately. I was gathering all the necessary details. Are the two of you ready for a pre-mission briefing right now?”
“We want to get moving on this, yes,” Vincent Wauneka says enthusiastically.” Ted Avila adds, “Certainly, Eduardo. Right away.”
“Let me direct your attention to this screen where I have essential data points for you. This begins your pre-mission briefing,” says Eduardo
On the screen Avila and Wauneka can see data points that accompany the briefing that Eduardo is discussing with but his image is not shown to them:
Eduardo says, “The Ezuoia exist outside of time and as such they are not affected by time in the same ways that you two are and as I am also affected. The Ezuoia do not ‘travel’ in time. They simply choose any point in time—past, present and future—and they are there. Think of this like a memory you have of a favorite experience you had during your childhood years. Maybe it was a winter snow that your parents encouraged you to play in. There you are. You see yourself playing in the fluffy white snow. That is a metaphor to explain how the Ezuoia select at will any point in time without the need for time travel.”
Ted Avila asks, “What about the effects upon the Ezuoia when we time-travel agents travel back in time and change timelines?”
“The way time works,” Eduardo explains, “is not like anyone human like you two or a supercomputer like me can comprehend. If you change a timeline, the effects you caused by your decisions and action while in the past will, of course, be known to the Ezuoia. But the perceptions about those changes are limited to a relatively small area of spacetime. When you make a timeline change on Earth, it is felt around the entire planet, of course. But the timeline change is not felt here on the moon. We are situated here under Crater Clavius but it is the physical distance between Earth and the moon that insulates the entire moon from ever being aware of any impact of timeline changes made on Earth. In a similar way, when you make a timeline change on Earth, that change has no impact at all upon the planet Mars or Nepture or the far-off galaxy that the Ezuoia consider their home. The great physical distances insulate locations from any impact of timeline changes made on Earth. The science of it all is easy to express. Timeline changes on Earth are not known to anyone who is beyond one point three light seconds away. That is about 239,000 miles or 384,400 kilometers. Think of it like a bubble spanning one point three light seconds which contains the timeline changes. Outside that bubble, changes are not perceivable and have no meaning or significance.”
“What has this got to do with the mission you started talking to us about?” asks Vincent Wauneka.
“Something has happened on Earth. Something caused by the Ezuoia. This has nothing to do with the time effects bubble, so to speak. But it is a gravely serious matter. The destination year for your top-secret mission is 2012. The location on Earth is Amargosa, Nevada in what was formerly known as the United States of America. Amargosa is located just under one hundred miles from Las Vegas near the edge of Death Valley. This mission is for you two to provide recon regarding the Ezuoia. They set up the only known presence for themselves on planet Earth. I am the only one who knows of this. Now I am briefing you two. General Yang does not know. Doctor Oswald also does not know. The Ezuoia are capable of being simultaneously present and living inside and around their home worlds while they also are present on Earth at that Amargosa, Nevada location. The Ezuoia also exist simultaneously in the past, the present, and the future with instant access whenever they want it to see complete, detailed knowledge of events and actions.”
“You’re saying the Ezuoia used their presence in the past to establish a facility on Earth in the year 2012?” Ted Avila asks with a worried look on his face.
“Yes, precisely. I have determined from my vantage point with my supercomputing capabilities that their establishing that Amargosa facility created an unusual branching off of timelines from 2012 forward in time. Where the normal structure and flow of spacetime is one major timeline with minor tributaries, now there are multiple timelines branching out in 2012 and forward. Think of spacetime as now having undiscovered strands as seen on the screen in front of you. Each strand is its own timeline and none of the timelines intersect but merely intermingle. This multiplicity of the strands of spacetime represent a very dangerous threat to what has been up until now the unchallenged authority of MMDI in repairing timelines in the past by sending agents on time-travel missions. My assessment is the Ezuoia do not intend to allow humanity to be in sole control of time travel. And so the Ezuoia set up Amargosa to complete with Clavius Base. Even though the Ezuoia have absolutely no need nor desire to travel in time.”
Vincent Wauneka asks, “What is the significance of strands of spacetime branching out from 2012 that intermingle but never intersect?”
“Mr. Wauneka,” Eduardo replies as his image reappears on the screen. “If there are seventy timeliness associated with the facility at Amargosa and if your overall mission was to alter timelines in the past to affect a different present day and a different future, altering would necessitate seventy separate missions to Amargosa in 2012 to be fully complete and thorough. We don’t want to miss anything—even the slightest action or event could have serious consequences to the present and the future. This makes time travel missions very much more complicated than those missions ever have been before. I am not certain MMDI has sufficient manpower to maintain what has been the unchallenged authority of MMDI in repairing timelines in the past.”
“We thought time travel is possible only in the lower gravity of the moon and not on Earth,”Ted Avila says.
“That is correct. The Amargosa location is not a time-travel facility because that is not possible in Earth gravity. Amargosa is there for other purposes that we do not yet understand. The two of you initially will be sent to one timeline on a particular date which is prior the creation in 2012 of the Amargosa facility. You will be on a recon mission initially to discover where the Ezuoia set up that facility near Death Valley and what you can discover about the Amargosa location as to its purposes and capabilities. I can envision sending you both together on additional timeline change missions across multiple strands of spacetime for the strategic purpose of seting in motion desired outcomes in the future.”
“And what are those desired outcomes?” Vincent Wauneka.
“Two significant outcomes. The preservation of this agency into the future along with the successful continuation of the singular, unchallenged authority of MMDI to conduct human time travel operations from Clavius Base,” Eduardo replies.
“Will the Ezuoia know that the two of us have traveled in time to Nevada in the year 2012? And, more important, will they try to impede our efforts?” Ted Avila asks.
Eduardo replies, “That is not known for certain. But it seems clear to me that the Ezuoia can selectively choose instant access whenever they want it so that they can see and understand complete, detailed knowledge of events and actions. But it does not seem at all logical or possible for the Ezuoia to attain awareness of every single development within each and every specific strand of spacetime in an around 2012 at Amargosa.”
“So we are gonna sneak in under the ability of the Ezuoia to track and monitor Vincent and me,” Ted Avila says with a smile.
Ted Avila drives the rented off-road dune buggy in the Mojave Desert with Vincent Wauneka at his side in the passenger seat. The dust and dirt kicked up behind the buggy add to the appealing scents of desert driving in the summertime. The two men are attired for the daytime temperatures of better than 100 degree on the old Fahrenheit scale. Their beards and windblown hair help them look like they are right at home in the year 2012 should anyone care to notice them. Anyone who happened to observe these two men together in their desert dune buggy would instantly know how happy and fulfilled they truly are.
When they stop to allow the dust to settle, Ted Avila says, “Oh, the amazing life behind the wheel of a desert dune buggy! In another life, I could see doing this full-time. Maybe giving tourists accompanied trips to explore the great Mojave Desert.” Vincent Wauneka replies, “I was thinking the exact same thing, Teddy. But you know what? I would almost do anything to get away from that small living quarters on the moon. And that awful stuff we are supposed to eat for nourishment.”
“I won’t give you any argument on that. Even if the living quarters are too small and the nourishment tastes awful, Eduardo seems to be trusting us and taking care of us. We need to get intel that he wants and needs while on this mission here. What can you tell me about the county records covering this place, Vincent?”
“The county says all the necessary approvals were done with due diligence and completed ahead of deadlines. The venue, about half finished as we can see in front of us even without binoculars, looks impressive. It bears the chosen brand name of ‘the Ranch at Amargosa.’ Records show it is owned by a long-established Nevada holding company with offices and headquarters in Carson City. The description from public documents says this place is intended to be a ‘dude ranch’ for visitors to spend their vacation by dressing like Wild West cowboys, riding horses that are to be stabled at the ranch and enjoying several street scenes right out of popular western movies set in the nineteenth century. There will be shootouts and hangings of horse thieves—standard tourist attraction amenities that we all know and love. Also a well-appointed resort hotel with a bar and major restaurant along with an indoor swimming pool open all year round.”
“No mention of the name Ezuoia?”
“No, not surprising to me at all. The corporation name is Jarnsaxa. Not especially extraterrestrial sounding, right? But wait. That happens to be the same name as the fiftieth moon of Saturn discovered in 2006.”
“Well, there you go. Definitive proof this place is owned by the Ezuoia,” Ted Avila replies with sarcasm. “We can go home and make our report to Eduardo. Our work here is done. Maybe we have time to see how this buggy handles way off road near the state line.”
Vincent Wauneka quickly adds, “One odd thing I found in the public records for the Ranch at Amargosa. The target audience is specified as men who are between twenty-one and forty-nine. Suggesting that the intended audience of the marketing that is planned for this resort when it opens later in 2012 will exclude women.”
“Men only. Oh wow, reminds me of your sex worker gigs that only serve male clients?”
Vincent Wauneka says, “But unlike what I do as a sex worker only for male clients, the Ezuoia force changes within the brains of men. It is the real-time tracking which the Ezuoia set up at Clavius Base is limited to modifying men’s brains. Only men. So the Ezuoia can share in the feelings of men’s ejaculations. You think maybe the Ranch at Amargosa is intended to bring in a supply of men here on Earth so that the Ezuoia can secretly modify their male guests’ brains while they are dressing up as cowboys and riding horses at the resort?”
Ted Avila says, “Let me see the binoculars. I wanna estimate how many buildings this place is gonna have when it opens. A public place like this even unfinished looks impressive—it will be a resort near Las Vegas offering pleasure. Should become very popular with tourists. This resort very easily can be expected to become a major competitor of MMDI and Clavius Base. The large size of this resort would be able easily to attract far more men than Clavius Base ever could. The relatively smaller number of men like us whose brains were altered at Clavius Base would be way outnumbered by this resort’s male guests. The lunar base is small, only capable of housing a couple of hundred men.”
As Ted Avila focuses the binoculars so he can carefully examine the unfinished resort in the distance, he adds, “Plus, this ranch is near Las Vegas. An international tourism destination. The Ezuoia could alter hundreds of men’s brains while they are visiting the ranch. A much larger volume of men than Clavius Base will ever have. Eduardo will want to know what we found on this mission.”
Vincent Wauneka says, “We are a few minutes away from our scheduled retrieval time. Ya think we are maybe cutting this retrieval a bit close here?” Vincent asks.
Declan Andreas, a rugged-looking young man of Mexican and Greek ancestry who is around the age of 30, became the MMDI agent selected by his direct supervisor Colonel Thomas Burke for the top-secret mission back to the year 2012. Burke is African American and notably tall and muscular. Those traits please Andreas, who never shows any outward signs of hesitation or self-doubt, commits wholeheartedly to his missions without even the slightest hint of personal insecurity or thoughts of failure.
Andreas has had a private nickname for Colonel Burke from long before he became a direct report of the colonel. When he is alone with Burke, Andreas calls him by the nickname of “Beef.”
“I’m your boss. I keep ordering you not to call me that,” Burke says.
“I know, colonel,” Andreas replies. “I mean no disrespect. I just cannot stop. The nickname. It’s out of respect for that thick slab of beef between your legs.”
“Never gonna share myself sexually with you,” Burke says aggressively. “You have only seen me naked in the crew shower. I’m your boss. Shut the fuck up. That’s an order.”
“Got it,” Andreas admits. “You’re untouchable. I accept that. Would give anything if you would rough-fuck me. Anything you want. Just name it, Boss.”
“Your sexual appetite is one major reason why I selected you to go back to the 21st century,” Burke says. “Las Vegas, Nevada. Very sexual mission. Think you can keep your erection in your pants and do your job?”
“You can count on me,” Dec Andreas replies with the utmost confidence.
“This agency got a lot of crucial intel from the work of other agents sent to investigate in Nevada. You are an essential follow-up. Don’t fuck this up, Andreas.”
This oversexed time travel agent has agreed to a meeting that will take place at the Las Vegas airport. It is Thursday, the 11th day of October 2012. Severe thunderstorms are lingering over the entire Las Vegas Valley.
This secret agent from the future is dressed as though he were a tourist from the 21st century. He retrieves a small rolling suitcase inside the vast luggage claim area. Nobody will care that he is attired like a tourist with Bermuda shorts, a colorful, short-sleeved shirt, and brown leather sandals. This is the arrival point at the Las Vegas airport where everyone starts off on equal footing with everyone. Looks don’t matter at the start. But, then, the winning and the losing in Las Vegas changes everything about a person and certain material things start to matter a whole lot more.
Agent Andreas is approached by an imposing tall figure at the luggage claim area who asks in a deep voice, “Do you have something to give me?” Agent Andreas nods as he retries a postcard from a zippered pocket of his luggage. As he has done several times today, Agent Andreas glances at the postcard depicting five cowboys wearing only cowboy hats and showing off their full erections. The tall man grabs the postcard quickly with his left hand as he says, “Thank you. I am known as the rancher.” He looks like he is around 40 years of age. He stands very tall in his large brown cowboy boots. His head is graced with a large white cowboy hat that allows just enough of his curly light brown hair to fall downward toward, but not quite reaching, his thick, muscular neck.
Very loud sounds of back-to-back-to-back commercials advertise all manner of Las Vegas temptations from food to drink to erotic entertainment fill the luggage claim section of the Las Vegas airport around the clock. The brilliant neon-punctuated images on several large video screens make certain that you will be exposed to at least half a dozen messages designed to persuade you to part with your hard-earned money today in Sin City.
But Dec Andreas is not here in Las Vegas to engage in the various sins surrounding financial greed. He will not visit casinos or spend money gambling. He is not here for winning or losing anything.
His MMDI mission involves Andreas going to Nevada in the year 2012 to meet the rancher, who accepts what that Andreas is on assignment to research secret sex tours in the 21st century.
That is the cover story Andreas has been given by MMDI for this mission.
The rancher drives his brand-new white pickup truck from the airport onto the nearby Interstate 15 freeway. The crowded freeway is packed with slow traffic going no faster than 25 miles per hour because of the heavy downpour and sheets of water on the pavement. “You gonna record my voice on some hand-held device?” the rancher asks Andreas as they move slowly on that freeway passing large promotional signs for Caesars Palace. “No,” Andreas assures him. “I like to take things in first.”
“So you’re a man who like to take things in,” the rancher says as if that phrase means something special to him.
“Yeah, you know, just experience what I can experience. Later on, we can sit down for a recorded conversation if that’s good with you.” Andreas adds, “This weather normal for here? I thought it was always sunny and hot.”
“Flash floods from thunderstorms today. You’re gonna me ask how long a ride this will be today because of the flooding?”
Andreas smiles and says, “No. Told me on the phone. About a hundred miles from Las Vegas. If you’re wondering, I used the men’s room at the airport before I got to baggage claim.”
“You let any guys play with your cock in the men’s room?” the rancher asks in apparently seriousness.
Andreas laughs and says, “Not into public men’s room sex. Why are you asking me that?”
“Simple. The postcard you brought to give to me was a simple way for you to identify yourself to me as an invited guest. You looked at it, right? The ranch we’re heading to is all about sex between men. You look like a very masculine man and all. Looks can be deceiving. Just wanna see if you’re a prude or shy about open discussion of sex or getting into sex with men. You even might be religious. Hope not.”
Andreas quickly replies, “Yeah, I definitely looked at your postcard. The message was very clear to me. Sex between men.”
“You like cowboys? Masculine men? I mean, you have sex with men, don’t you?”
“Yes to all your questions,” Andreas replies confidently. “So, you’re running a brothel at the ranch?”
“Not like that at all. No money is exchanged. It’s all free. All guests pay a fixed price in advance.”
A sudden flash of lightning followed immediately by loud thunder interrupts the rancher. Andreas looks unnerved. “Hate thunder and lightning,” he says under his breath.
“This truck we’re riding in happens to be one of the safest places you could be in during a big thunderstorm like this,” the rancher promises.
“I’ll take your word for it,” Andreas replies.
The rancher’s truck heads north and west away from the populated areas of Las Vegas. The severe weather remains over the valley in the opposite direction from where Route 95 is taking the rancher and his guest.
Soon the rancher nudges Andreas so he will notice the battered and worn sign by the right side of the two-lane highway that reads, “Amargosa Valley, Nevada.”
“The ranch is a very near here,” the rancher announces.
“Looks like we’re out in the middle of nowhere.”
“Yep. Pretty much. Exactly what we wanted for the ranch. Federal lands and a lot of military stuff is over there on the right side of the highway. The former nuclear test site is up there, too. Where the atomic bombs were tested above ground. Oh, and people think several extraterrestrial alien spacecraft are hidden near here in a secret facility at Area 51.”
“That’s also near here?”
“Yep. But we’re not going there. You don’t believe in aliens, do you?”
“Not really, no. Why put this ranch way out here?”
“You mean, so far from most everything and everyone.”
“Yeah, exactly. Kind of long way to drive to buy bread and toilet paper, isn’t it?”
“The was a deliberate choice to put the ranch way out here. I’ve got employees who drive trucks to pick up anything we need whenever we need it.”
“Cowboys are your employees?”
“Of course, cowboys.”
“So, you’ve got cowboys, but what kind of business is your ranch for? Isn’t ranching usually for the business of raising livestock?”
“Yep, exactly.”
“What kind of livestock do you raise out here?”
“Cowboys,” he replies without joking.
“What are you talking about? I asked you about livestock.”
“You’ll see when we get to my ranch. Just a few minutes more.”
“Are you fucking with me?”
“No, relax. we raise cowboys at this ranch. That’s what business we’re in. The cowboys are livestock. Part organic. Part machine. Other things. You know what? I think this is taking you far too long to figure it all out. I though you would pick up on all this much faster than you seem to be doing. Not a problem. I’ll show you everything. We’re here now.” The rancher drives his pick-up truck for at least a couple of miles down a very straight two-lane paved road from the main highway. Andreas notices a wooden sign on posts that crosses the paved road. As the truck passes easily beneath the sign, Andreas sees “Penis, NV Ranch” in small letters that are barely legible.
“The two letters, en and vee. The official United States Postal Service designation for the state of Nevada,” the rancher explains.
“And, when we read them aloud, we get the word envy. So, you named your ranch ‘Penis Envy.’ Kind of clever don’t you think?”
The rancher says nothing as pulls his pick-up truck up to the front of one of the small, single-story wooden buildings that resemble a Wild West settlement in the late nineteenth century where he parks and shuts off the engine.
Agent Andreas does not see the five men from the promotional postcard—fully clothed as cowboys now—sneaking up to the passenger side of the pick-up truck. When the passenger door is suddenly swung open by one of the cowboys, Agent Andreas instinctively switches to self-defense mode.
But it is too late for him. The first cowboy lands one well-placed punch to the head of the MMDI agent rendering him unconscious.
When Agent Andreas regains consciousness, he finds that he is completely naked and is stretched out in the air like the letter “X” about six feet above the floor of a dark room. He struggles to free himself, but his wrists and ankles are bound by shackles connected to thick metal chains that disappear into the darkness above and below him.
“Hope you’re not too uncomfortable,” says the voice of the rancher from an apparent loudspeaker in the ceiling of the dark room. “The air temperature in there is a little high, I suppose. Your scrotum has responded to the heat. Relaxing your ball-sac. Very loose and soft. Your nuts are hanging down now just where we need them to be.”
All that Agent Andreas can focus upon is the impact of someone punching him unexpectedly with a clenched fist directly into his cock and balls. He screams out in surprise and pain.
“I can have my cowboys damage your manhood permanently,” the rancher’s voice says. “But that would be such a waste. You’re very well-endowed.”
“What the fuck do you want from me?” Agent Andreas manages to ask.
“The truth,” says the rancher’s voice. “Who are you? What did you come here to this ranch to find out?”
“My boss sent me here,” Agent Andreas answers quickly. “That’s the truth. To find out what I could about your cowboys at this sex venue in Nevada.”
“Yeah, but you’re not really a freelance writer who is working on a story, are you?” asks the angrier voice from nowhere.
Before Agent Andreas can answer, he once again feels a strong punch to his cock and balls. He shouts out involuntarily in pain, but he is unintelligible.
The voice of the rancher says, “If you pay attention to what I am saying to you, I may agree to stop hurting you. I invited you here. I spoke the truth to you. In return, you lied to me. My purpose here is to raise livestock. Cowboys. Told you. They look outwardly like men who are well-built. But, that’s the thing. They all are built. Unlike human beings, they are not born of a human mother and then grow up into adulthood. They are built from scratch in a secret location here in the state of Nevada, so they end up looking like well-built men who happen to dress up in cowboy attire. Even all of our horses are built using the same technology and processes for doing their work at this ranch.”
“What’s all this for?” Agent Andreas finally manages to ask.
“Sex, of course.”
“You told me you’re not running a brothel at this ranch.”
“I told you the truth about that. My cowboys are not sex workers. They are not prostitutes who accept money to provide sexual pleasures to clients. It is all free of charge. All guests pay a fixed price in advance.”
“OK, but what do your cowboys do?”
“My cowboys have sex with men. Fucking. Sucking. Fisting. Corcoran Maneuver. Whatever any man can fantasize about and request. That’s what my cowboys can do. Perhaps I should demonstrate rather than just talking to you.”
Agent Andreas feels a downward movement of his legs as the chains holding onto his ankle shackles start lowering closer to the floor. The chains pull at his ankles, spreading his legs farther apart. “Oh, God, no,” he says.
“So, you believe in God?” the voice asks. “You think you have an immortal soul?”
Andreas does not answer as he struggles to free himself, but such efforts are futile. He sees twins walk towards him from the darkness. They are identical tall, muscular man wearing only tight briefs. One stands so that his face is only a few inches away from the nose of Agent Andreas. The other positions himself so that the man’s bulge is touching the butt of Agent Andreas.
“Introducing our top-of-the-line model,” the voice of the rancher says with apparent pride. “All of them here at the ranch are highly realistic-looking, even up close like the twins are to you right now.”
“Mechanical devices? Robots? They look like real men look,” Agent Andreas says.
“Part mechanical. Part organic material. Part computer. Artificial intelligence. Very difficult manufacturing process. Very boring stuff,” the voice of the rancher says.
“Where does this kind of technology come from? Never saw anything like this before.”
“Of course. The technology and the know-how to create this model is proprietary. Only a very few know all the secrets and the programming that is needed. What this model can do is beyond breathtaking,” the voice of the rancher explains.
“You refer to them as livestock?” Agent Andreas asks.
“Because that’s exactly what they are. They are not human men. Some have different looks, of course. Light skin. Dark skin. Short hair. Long hair. Various racial features everyone looks for. You name it. We can satisfy any man’s wildest sex fantasies here,” the voice of the rancher admits. “Even the older models that we’re still using here can do some very amazing things with our visitors.”
“You could make a fortune selling these on the black market. Very expensive fuck toy. Oh, shit,” Agent Andreas shouts out. He feels a thick, masculine hand reaching into his anus to spread a thick, slippery lubricant. The twin behind him inserts large fingers coated in the lubricant slip into the rectum of Agent Andreas and then pull out. Next, Agent Andreas is not surprised to feel a substantial and erect cock plunging deeply into him.
He groans in protest. He looks down and back from his chained position. Agent Andreas is continually knocked forward by the unrelenting thrusts of the twin behind him, fucking him without even the slightest pretense of gentleness as he strokes the erect cock Agent Andreas has quickly developed.
The MMDI agent cannot speak intelligibly as he is unmercifully pounded from behind and manhandled from the front. The experience is not unpleasant for Agent Andreas, who gets totally lost in the intense physical pleasure being forced upon him. Agent Andreas realizes that this is what rape feels like—something he never previously experienced.
Slipping into uncharted territory emotionally, Agent Andreas feels his entire body shudder as slips rapidly into a total loss of self-control. He is forced to accept that he is the emotional and sexual prisoner of these two men who control him. However, Agent Andreas is not ashamed to admit that he never wants these feelings to end. He is very angry and feels shame that these two men have conquered him physically and emotionally against his will, teaching him lessons that Agent Andreas somehow never learned before and never even knew he had to learn. When Agent Andreas finally ejaculates wildly against his will, he nearly loses consciousness in the process.
The second twin takes over next. He goes at Agent Andreas even rougher than the first twist had. The response is the same—another strong, uncontrolled ejaculation for Agent Andreas. Then the twins quickly leave Agent Andreas hanging from the wrist and ankle shackles in the room.
“Shot your load a couple of times like we wanted you to,” says the rancher’s voice. “My livestock can make any man shoot.”
“You’re psychotic,” Agent Andreas says in response as he tries to breathe normally.
“Getting a man to ejaculate,” says the rancher’s voice. “We consider that a sacrament. The livestock at this ranch make men ejaculate. To us, doing so is a very sacred religious act that we perform. This is the new sacrament to honor the highly-intelligence beings known as the Ezuoia. You said you don’t believe in aliens. But that’s what the Ezuoia are. From a far away galaxy.”
Andreas merely shakes his head to indicate “No.”
The rancher explains: “We know who you are. We have a special device that gives off an invisible energy field to each man who visits the ranch. We explain to them as they walk through what look like airport security hardware that this is a security precaution. We lie about it being some new, high-tech 21st century wonder that prevents sexually transmitted diseases while enhancing a man’s physical sensation. Not a shred of truth in that, of course. But the lie is quite convincing. In truth, the energy field is so that the guests’ brains will be permanently altered. The new functionality of their brains work together with the man’s own DNA.”
Agent Andreas struggles to get out of the chains, but he does not answer the rancher.
“Funny thing is, when we scanned you, we found that your brain had already been altered like we would have done, but you had it done before you ever got here to the ranch. And that discovery really got our attention, I must admit. Nobody from this century has that brain alteration from the Ezuoia in them. Until we made it happen. But, somehow, you came here today. Your altered brain was very evident to us. Could not be concealed. You said you flew in a jet from Texas. That’s a lie. You think you can just waltz in here to visit the ranch using some cover story about being a travel writer. I pick you up at the Las Vegas airport. Bring you here. Only to find you have an altered brain that is not from this century. I don’t know exactly who you are, but it is obvious you are from the future. You used time travel to get here and that’s all the proof I need that you are a threat to this ranch.”
The twins return from the darkness and approach Agent Andreas wearing nothing more than silver canisters on their backs while pointing flamethrowers directly at him. “Don’t kill me,” Andreas screams out.
“We made you shoot your load two times,” the voice of the rancher says. “We twice performed the sacred sacrament on you. You have honored the Ezuoia. They felt your ejaculations due to your altered brain and they thank you for sharing your most intimate physical and emotional experiences. And now we will show the Ezuoia how a time traveler dies. Ready for your eternal reward?”
The initial burst of flames instantly melts the cock and balls of Agent Andreas. The unnatural sounds that the man makes as he fights against the searing heat are what you might expect to hear from a mortally wounded animal during a death struggle.
Soon there is only an eerie silence as the brilliant yellow flames completely consume the agent’s muscular body slumps lifelessly still held in the bondage shackles. His severed muscular left arm is crackling from the fire as it slips free from bondage and falls to the floor with a thud.