Impersonal Touch
Codename: Roamer is a spy who provides his services to the highest bidder. Trained by the military, battle hardened by engaging in countless covert missions, Roamer takes on a contract tailor-made to his skills and interests. The contract too good to be true turns out to be exactly that, an elaborate ruse.
This is an unfinished short story I was working on before my wife and I got into our car accident. Rather than to let this sit on my hard drive doing nothing, I am posting it as a work in progress and letting you, the reader, come up with ideas in order to make it a complete story. Additional information on how you can contribute may be found at the end of this story.
I've heard it said that you can't outrun your shadow, bad news or destiny. I respectfully disagree. Shadows disappear in the absence of light; bad news can be trumped by a good publicist; and destiny is affected by random chance. Over the 32 years of my life, I've worked hard to be a sure thing, a rival to fate. You may try to avoid me for a time, but, like fate, I am inescapable. If you've done something to warrant my attention, I would advise you to remain where you are and pray for a quick death. Otherwise, I will chase you, I will find you, and you won't be granted a painless demise. I am better than a sure thing. I am destiny.
Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Russell Raymond Moore, but I am known by my call sign: Roamer. I know, it sounds weird, but it's meant to be overlooked, better yet, forgotten. I am, by profession and disposition, a spy. You know of my kind through popular movies or television shows and for the most part, the entertainment business gets many of the details right. I was hand picked from a crop of US Marines, not for my physical skills, but for my mental acuity. For nearly 4 years I was trained in the art of stealth, espionage and hand to hand combat. I studied psychology, world culture and languages. I was given the absolute best opportunities to hone my skills before my superiors were satisfied that I was ready for my first assignment.
I don't remember much from those early days. Everything seemed like another test or an extension of my training, except the blood on my hands was real. The novelty of blood didn't last and in a few short weeks my missions became more complex and my targets more elusive than anything I had experienced. I did not fail, I could not afford to fail. I was a finely tuned weapon, primed by the military and fired by those in positions of authority. There were times I when silently questioned why someone fell between my cross-hairs, but questions alone were not enough to stay my hand. Furs died, many furs died. Nice or mean, innocent or guilty, they fell before me like weeds under the blades of a lawnmower. I remember feeling pangs of regret for certain victims, however those feelings were offset by a sense of vindication for each gang lord or crime boss slain.
Eventually, I was hired out to private corporations who needed someone with my set of skills to protect their investments. The difference between military targets and private contracts was that I could turn down a contract if it didn't complement my abilities. I turned down more than I accepted and I was greatly rewarded for each successful hit. It was a game for me, a deadly game of hide and seek. A game I always won.
You have seen me every day of your life. I can blend into a crowd and attract no notice. I am the product of military training and design. I am a walnut coloured mustang, 6'1" tall, 190 pounds, brown mane, brown eyes, lean build, no tattoos, no scars or visible birthmarks, and no real distinguishing features. That's not to say I'm not attractive. Females feel safe around me, some have said that I look like their brother or father. I'm used to it by now. If you got lucky enough to be intimate with me, you'd notice my only unique body part. I'm proud of what I'm packing, a thick nine and a quarter inch cock and two large, full balls. And, if you are brave enough to bring me to release, you will be rewarded by a healthy amount of thick, creamy cum. It's a product of my special diet, training and body supplements.
The phone rang a shrill, digital tone that snapped me out of my meditative state. My number is unlisted and I only get calls from my personal assistant, Mary. I've never met her in person, I don't even know if Mary is her real name, but I like her and she seems to like me. I pick up the phone on the second ring.
"Speak."
"Greetings Mr. Roamer. Your client passes on his sincere gratitude for yet another successful mission. The payment is being transferred to your accounts as we speak. Are you interested in other assignments?"
"Go ahead Mary, you know what I like." Mary always screened out the dangerous or poorly conceived contracts.
"I have two for your consideration. One is a capture, question and dispose. The other requires a personal touch."
I didn't mind the capture and dispose type contracts, but the questioning usually took time and the answers bored me to no end. The personal types were my favourite, they appealed to my meticulous nature.
"Send me the second contract. Any details I need to know about?"
"The payment is significantly more than your usual fees. The level of complexity is also much higher than normal. I estimate that fulfilling this contract will take a few weeks of your time. Are you sure you wish to proceed?" Everything about this contract stirred my interests. I couldn't wait to find out more.
"I'm sure. Send it through."
"As you wish, sir. Have a pleasant night."
"Goodnight Mary."
The new email message flashed on the computer screen as soon as I hung up the phone. The message was short and contained a drop off location where the rest of the information could be found. I did a search for the address and was surprised to find that it was within walking distance of my studio apartment. I grabbed my coat from its hanger and collected the few things I may need on this casual night out. Money clip, credit card, fake ID, hunting knife, silenced 9mm glock and keys. Safer to be prepared than be caught off guard.
The cool night air soothed the transition between my climate controlled apartment and the empty sidewalks. It was a quiet Wednesday evening; respectable folks were already asleep and the disrespectful kept their distance from my imposing form. The street curved left, then a sharp right before crossing a two-lane road with several cars stopped at a red light. I subconsciously counted the cars, 5, and their passengers, 9, without making any obvious moves. Again, it was my training taking charge of the situation.
"Yo, baby! Lemme see dat ass! Turn around and gimme a show!"
An obnoxious voice called out from car number 2, a sleek, overpriced sedan containing a snobbish, overdressed teenaged fox. It's none of my business, stay out of it. The subject of the teenager's catcalls was a young female skunk, probably 18 or 19, walking alone on the opposite side of the road. Not my problem. Go to the drop off location, get my assignment.
"Come on, cutey! Do ya wanna make a buck? I'll keep ya company tonight."
Walk, one foot in front of the other, don't turn around. It will only lead to trouble. Despite my efforts I can't ignore the ignorant fox any longer; there's something about a damsel in distress that gets my blood going. I hope I don't have to kill the guy. Whatever will be, will be. I step off the curb into the traffic and make my way toward the sedan staying in its blind spot until I reach the rear window. Neither the offensive teenager or the cowering skunk noticed my approach and it was a simple matter to startle the fox by knocking on the roof of his car.
"I believe it's time you move along before you say something you are going to regret." I said leaning against the car, my hand clutching the grip of a holstered gun beneath my coat.
"What's your problem, grandpa? Can't you see I'm trying to score here?" The fox sneered at me and turned his attention back to the young skunk.
I gave him fair warning and felt justified with what I was about to do. In a blink of an eye, I whipped out my gun, pointing it at his face, and put on my most menacing tone of voice. "Move along son. There's nothing for you here."
The satisfaction I got from seeing the fox's ears press against against his head and eyes grow wide in absolute fear made me smile in spite of my better judgement which only made my prey shrink into his plush car seat. As a parting gift, I tapped the barrel of my gun on the bridge of his nose just hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. The touch revived him somewhat and he accelerated away, dodging the cars who were still waiting for the light to turn green. I re-holstered the gun and turned to face the young skunk who stood dumbfounded at what had just occurred.
"Ma'am? Are you alright?" I asked.
"What... who... are you a cop?" She managed to say.
"More like a private contractor who takes the law seriously. What are you doing out at this hour?"
"I... missed the last bus and I'm walking back to my apartment. I live just around the corner from here." She pointed vaguely in the direction of some high rise apartment buildings.
"I can accompany you if you wish. It's your choice." I offered kindly, assuming she will decline.
"Uh, sure. If you're not busy that is."
"I'm never too busy for one as beautiful as you." I am such a softy, I really don't have time for this excursion but I have no other option.
"Thanks. My name is Anna-Marie."
"A pleasure. I'm Russell, call me Russ."
I fell in step beside her as she started to babble on about how scared she was and how thankful that I happened to wander by. Anna-Marie turned out to be yet another college dropout working nights as a waitress at a local bar. She offered to serve me free drinks if I dropped in as repayment but, being the gentleman I am, I refused any such reward for doing my duty. In truth, I rarely drink and when I do I have very specific tastes which are not commonly found in most corner bars. And yet she carried on, saying how brave I must be to take on random strangers at night. I listened with half an ear, voicing an agreement when appropriate, but focusing my attention on the dark alleys we were passing en route to my new companion's destination.
"What does a 'private contractor' do Russ?" Anna-Marie inquired.
"I do all sorts of work. Security and defence for major clients." That part was true. "Boring, tedious stuff." That part was not.
"Oh, like a bouncer then?" The vacant look in her eyes turned me off entirely.
"No, I'm more specialized than your average bouncer."
"I know exactly what you mean," her voice became ice in an instant. "Take him down." Out of the corner of my eye I saw a large bull brandishing a stun gun and had no time to react. The shock sent me into convulsions and when the pain eased up, darkness closed in.
I woke and shed the normal grogginess of unwanted sleep with a quick mental shake. I continued to breathe heavily feigning sleep using my nose and ears to determine my surroundings. I was alone in a darkened room, a basement by the feel of it, and I was tied to a vertical support by my wrists, ankles and neck. I was also quite naked; the cool, damp air in the room chilled me to the bone and made me want to shiver but I had learned to deny such reflexes in situations like these.
I flicked my tail against the apparatus making a slight noise to size up the room based on the echo of sound against the walls. Uh oh, this wasn't good. I was in a very small room, a cell with a barred door on one side. I risked cracking open my left eye to confirm my findings. The 8 by 8 foot room was dimly illuminated by a single electric bulb directly outside the cell. Narrow bands of light crossed my body from hoof to head, my walnut coloured coat appeared dark brown in contrast to the near blackness that bathed the corners of the cell.
A pair of footsteps rang off the hardened concrete floor of the hallway, one sounded much heavier than the other. My two visitors approached and opened the cell door but did not enter. I maintained my facade of being unconscious in the hopes of finding out where I was or what my captors wanted of me.
"We know you're awake." The authoritative voice belonged to the barely legal skunk I had 'saved' earlier tonight. "Open your eyes, Agent Roamer. Who ever gave you that stupid name anyway?"
"It's none of your concern. What do you want?" I asked coldly.
"Touchy touchy, Mr. Roamer. No need to get upset. All I need is the location of the drop off point you received tonight." In an instant I knew two things: one - the agency I worked for contained a mole, and two - I may die tonight.
"The location will do you no good. If I haven't picked it up by now my employers will have surely removed it." The trick to lie convincingly was to mix in equal parts truth to lie. It was policy to destroy drop off locations within 24 hours of reaching an agreement with the contractor, but it was far from the time when that policy would be carried out.
"Aren't you the cocky one?" She deliberately lowered her eyes to my exposed crotch. "Has it been 24 hours already? My watch must be slow." Damn, whoever 'Anna-Marie' worked for was well informed.
"Nevertheless, you won't get any information from me." Torture, while unpleasant, was yet another aspect of the rigorous training I had to endure. I learned to cope with a great deal of pain.
"I can't wait to test your resolve! Dagger, ensure that we aren't disturbed." Dagger? And she was mocking my name? Who ever heard of a bull named Dagger? The heavy set bull closed the cell door behind him, leaving me alone with my diminutive tormentor.
"So now what?" I asked.
"I have something special in store for you that I'm positive you'll enjoy." A syringe appeared in her hand from the folds in her short skirt. "This is called LM-521. Don't ask me what it means because all I know is what effect it has on males of your species. It's not quite a truth serum, but it will make you more... receptive to suggestion depending on your metabolism."
The needle pierced my neck dangerously close to the jugular vein, its contents sending a wave of warmth through my body as the serum took effect. I expected a gradual dulling of the senses similar to the various weapon grade interrogation serums available on the black market. But this was different; no dry mouth, no numbing of my hands or hooves, just a feeling of warmth taking over. I performed a quick check of my faculties - date of birth: 9/23/78 - mother's maiden name: Jacobs - current mission: escape. Ok, so maybe that last one was obvious, but at least I don't feel the urge to talk.
My eyes settled on the young looking skunk standing in front of me. This gorgeous 22 year old female specimen with deep purple eyes, a white furred face and traditional black fur on the top and sides of her head and neck. Her clothes were trendy yet inexpensive, the kind you would see on students and minimum wage earners. A modest bust lay hidden below a crimson coloured top and a loose fitting fall blazer. Her short, equally crimson skirt did little to hide her wide hips and well rounded butt which would have been on display save for her perfectly groomed tail. She was the picture of youth and unabashed sexual confidence.
"Do you like what you see my big mustang?" Anna-Marie struck a pose to accentuate her cleavage, giving me a clear view down her shirt. The warmth coursing through my veins suddenly turned hot deep in my chest and crotch, my breath grew rapid and I felt my shaft hardening in my sheathe. My body was tuned to a point where my muscles and reflexes responded with singular precision, however my will faltered as the poison in my blood battled years of self-control.
"I'll admit, you do look tasty." In a few moments any lie would become transparent should my member make an appearance.
"You know, I was picked specifically to match your preferences. According to our information, you tend toward those with large hips and butt, correct?" She subtly shifted her feet to show off her generous assets. Once again, my blood boiled causing me to gasp audibly and pull at my bindings. I dare not look down between my legs fearing what I would see. I did not have to wait long to find out.
"Oh wow!" My tormentor exclaimed. "Am I making you uncomfortable, Agent Roamer?" It was pointless to ignore my growing arousal, so I would use it to my advantage.
"Not at all, little lady. I'm well on my way to feeling quite comfortable. What was that stuff? An erectile difficulty drug?" Deflect, deflect, deflect. Keep stalling until I see an exploitable advantage. It was the first lesson in the hostile interrogation manual.
"Boasting will get you nowhere. But to answer your question, LM-521 is part stimulant and suppressor. We can both see what it stimulates and, I have to say Agent Roamer, you are very impressive. As for what it suppresses, you will find out shortly."
*This is as far as I got... what I'm looking for are ideas on how to resolve our dear Agent Roamer's situation. To be clear, here are the facts: Roamer is in a 4 walled cell with no windows with a solitary light source in the hall visible through a swinging metal bar door. A 20-something female skunk stands in front of him who is trained in the art of prisoner interrogation by an unknown organization. Roamer has been injected with a serum that is enhancing his libido and other unknown effects at this time. Any method of escape you can think of is appreciated. Send me a PM or leave a detailed comment below if you wish to contribute.
I did have some ideas on how to finish this story, but they felt too contrived to be memorable. Where I left off is an ideal situation for an erotic scene and believe me I do want to see Roamer and his captor engage in some one-on-one action. My issue with an erotic scene is how it serves the plot. In this case, my initial idea was for Roamer to exploit a weakness in Anna-Marie due to her youth and inexperience. Try to imagine James Bond using his virility to engineer some sort of escape. I'm failing to come up with an appropriate mechanism to exploit... that's where I need your help.