CyberVamp Drummer
Synopsis-
In a fascist cyber society, Omar creates mainstream advertisements with subversive content. When Adam and Eva want to try a threesome relationship with him, Omar sees his opportunity to live his subversions, but what price will he have to pay in a world where threesome relationships are outlawed?
CyberVamp Drummer By Owen James (owenj42@gmail.com) Copyright 2009
Omar puts a queue into his company's procedure matrix for a vacation day. There is no boss, only AI, and the next open slot will be in exactly two weeks. He doesn't tell his fellow desk jockeys. When his day of freedom arrives he takes the subway from his subterranean apartment to the UnderMall as if it were any other workday--he notices the fifty advertisements designed by his team, but ignores the million designed by his competitors--and then instead of taking the elevators to the upper level Sprawl, he takes the express to The Docks. From there, he rides a gondola to LittleVenice.
After fifteen minutes, the gondola glides under a ten story high advertisement: Omar's most successful campaign for alcohol, the one where the brand name scrolls above a naked group of famous rugby players partying while holding various rum based drinks, the tagline at the bottom: "Just add women."
Once Omar passes the billboard, he requests a change of course from pier #5 to pier #42. The gondola takes a complex rout through the Mizu Shobai waterways to a hidden part of the city. He watches for a neon "NeoBohemia." It's his signal to request an emergency stop. NeoBohemia is an anti-cyber café where poets and other artists socialize without computers, where a sexual revolutionary might feel safe. Pier #42 is the only pier made from actual wood.
In front of the café, near the canal, a shirtless musician with natural red hair and white skin decorated with tribal tattoos and freckles hits an animal hide Ewe drum wedged between his legs. He has no fat; he is only muscle and bone. Behind him, his woman undulates to his song, her dark skin glossy with sweat, her dreads swinging wildly.
Of the drummer's gaunt features, Omar focuses in on the drummer's deep-set green eyes. As the drummer stares back, his rhythm accelerates and his woman dances as if with fever. Both the drummer and the dancer are CyberVamps who have thrown off their cyber-inhibitors. Only blood will satisfy their hunger now.
Omar writhes with the dancer to the frenzy of the pounding, but only in his mind. He imagines their bodies together, her chocolate skin against his light mocha, bucking until they can't stand the hunger anymore. As he fantasizes, he doesn't look away from the drummer's green eyes. Omar's breath quickens. He resists the urge to shed clothing. He is civilized and he tips his bowler hat and drops a five note into a tin cup. As he does this, the drummer's ripe musk finds Omar's nostrils, and in that moment, Omar feels high. In the daze, the drummer says, "Share and ye shall receive punishment."
The drummer's eyes haunt Omar as he enters the NeoBohemia Café. His preoccupation causes him to stumble over rubber piping that runs along the floor and up the walls. The piping is made from actual rubber plants. After recovering his footing, he slaps down money for a cup of yerba mate and sits at a small wooden table in the corner. He is cultural refinement in the midst of hedonism, a spectator at a zoo. He watches the courting animals. Underneath the patchwork clothing of the joyboy and the joygirl, the lyrist and the splicer, the poet and the anarchist, is a raw sexuality that is missing from his sterile world of offices, shopping districts, and cybernetics.
He wishes to be one of their species--cut off from twitter, cell phones, and cyber social networks. He wants to be naturally oversexed and underfed.
As he waits, he luxuriates in the natural. The cushions are made of organic cotton grown below the Sprawl tube-system. The palms aren't synthetic; they need light or they'll die. The elements of the room are as natural as an un-tampered human body. There are no electronics or AI hidden in the walls or meshed with the organics. The most constructed object, a cash register, is just dials and gears and springs.
Omar's name is called out. He walks to the counter, his cock boastful in his slacks. The café is all hungry eyes.
He sits back down and burns his tongue on the yerba mate.
He removes the lid and through the wafting steam, he sees Adam stumble into the café, over the same piping that tripped Omar. The stumble gives them something in common. Adam's input, Eva, is nowhere in sight.
As Adam recomposes himself, Omar studies contours. Adam looks even better in person than on the computer screen, his fitness obvious as he saunters over to Omar's dark corner. Omar stands quickly, feeling more than a bit nervous. He wipes his hands on his pants even though there's nothing on them and shakes Adam's hand.
"Sorry my hands are so cold," Omar says.
"It's to be expected." Adam smiles and his deep brown eyes catch Omar off gaurd.
Omar doesn't say anything, just staring. Adam looks like a model from a Bruce Weber photo from the last century, when America still existed--dark hair, broad shoulders, a strange innocence--except that his lips are too full and pout for an American's. Omar immediately, intensely likes Adam, though this affection is no doubt physically inspired. Omar is okay with being superficial for once.
They continue to look at each other and eventually, Adam holds up a cell phone and says, "My girl, my input, she told me to call in a half hour if I think you're a contender." He makes an amazed grunt, and then adds, "I feel like calling her right now."
Omar feels heat come to his face, but says with confidence, "No, we should talk first. How did you two become input and output?"
Before Omar can sit, Adam puts a hand to Omar's chest. Omar's balls tingle. Adam's hand traces the line between Omar's pecs as if he's searching for a heartbeat.
Omar brakes from the moment. He doesn't know how long they stared at each other. He clears his throat and says, "We should sit."
Adam leans in, quickly kisses Omar, and dials the phone.
Omar wipes his mouth and looks around the café to see if anyone noticed. A CyberVamp bites into a blood ball and sucks until the ball shrivels to the size of a prune. In the upper classes, a kiss between men is outlawed; here, no one cares.
"Eva, he's cool... Yeah, he's here... I know it's only been a minute. Just get here. You know what, how about we go to the house? ... Yeah, really... Just a sec." Adam takes the phone from his ear and says, "You up for a tour?"
Omar nods despite any reason he shouldn't.
"Yeah, he's up for it," Adam says into the phone. "Love you, see you soon... Okay, bye."
Adam stands up, but Omar doesn't get up with him. Instead, he holds onto the edge of the table and takes a deep breath. He whispers, "This could get me into trouble, couldn't it? Just being with you?"
"Yeah, it might. Only one output per input." Adam presses his lips together. He's anxious that Omar might back out.
Omar leans over the table and kisses Adam. "Lead the way."
They stand close in the travel shaft. Omar presses his groin into Adam's hip and as the compartment jostles back and forth, hurtling through the subsystem of the city, Omar is hard and running a slight temperature. Neither of them say anything. Most of the time, Omar stares at Adam's lips, desperate to kiss him again.
Omar follows Adam up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. Over the banister, Omar sees a garden down on the first floor. It's like nothing he's ever seen, with live plants, even fruit trees.
Adam's apartment door slides open. "Come in." Inside is a hundred times nicer than Omar's apartment, yet humble compared to the downstairs garden, with minimalist furnishings and only a few butler-bots and cleaner drones. One of Omar's ads is framed on the wall: two men pressed up against a woman, all three almost naked.
Eva is nowhere in sight. Omar realizes he might not have the same spark with Eva as with Adam. For a moment, that tragic "what if" overwhelms him.
"Eva!" Adam calls out as the butler-bots take Omar's coat and bowler hat. No one answers. "She must be running errands."
Omar refers to the framed ad. "One of my favorites."
Adam responds with questions: Do you worry about City Counsel? Did you worry that the Counsel might deem your advertisement an act of moral terrorism against the CultureNet? Did you worry that they would remove you?
Omar stands looking out over a metropolis hued orange from a heavy sun. He can't remember the last time he felt natural sunrays; the need to undress is urgent. "My company can't afford protective glass." He looks to Adam, lingering on the curve of his chest, the line of his torso, the potential behind the fly of his khakis. He realizes that clothing should be a crime, not threesome relationships.
Omar informs Adam of the paradox of conservative capitalism. The Counsel didn't persecute Omar for the advertisements because of the political influence of corporations. Advertisements can contain taboo imagery as long as they sell products.
Adam has no response, except, "Take off your shirt. I want to see it."
Omar does as he's told, revealing the cyber-inhibitor between his shoulder blades.
"Does it hurt?" Adam runs his hands along the metal and fiber tubes that run under Omar's skin. "And this keeps the hunger away?"
"Mostly."
"Do you like being a CyberVamp?
"It's all I've ever wanted to be." Omar changes the subject by saying, "This living room is very masculine. My ex-input had to have female written on everything. Eva's not just virtual, right?" Omar means it as a joke, but Adam suddenly looks serious.
Adam says, "Of course," but sounds very unconvincing.
In the CultureNet, a single person with the help of a hacker can easily pose as a couple.
"You and I," Adam says, "we got along so well. I couldn't bring myself to tell you about the breakup. Fantasizing about you was the one thing that kept me going. We'll find another input to share, I promise." Adam looks ready to cry.
Omar clenches Adam's shoulder. Adam winces. Omar wants to yell, but he can't think of anything to say, and so instead, he pulls Adam close. He loses himself to Adam's mouth, to the wet intense moment. The need for his whole body to be against Adam's is overpowering, yet at the same time, Omar is satisfied with the kiss. Omar's restraint is painful.
From behind them, a woman says, "Starting without me?" Eva watches from the doorway. Her hair is long and dark, and she has a basket of lemons resting on her hip.
Adam busts a gut. Omar realizes Adam was pulling a prank and pushes him away, saying "bastard," but starts to laugh too. Adam falls back onto the couch, tears on his cheeks.
Before he recovers, Eva walks past on her way to the kitchen. Her natural silk dress clings to her curves. For a moment, Omar forgets Adam and loses himself in her form.
With a voice crystal cool, she says, "I picked lemons for Lemon Drop Martinis. You guys game?"
Omar tells her he's never had a natural lemon before and she tells him he's in for a real treat. She starts to cut lemons in half, and Adam gets out a bag of sugar.
As Adam spreads sugar over a plate to sugar rim the glasses, he makes a reference to Omar's lower class, "Looks like the collarboy is a bit eager?" He sounds jealous.
Omar says, "Nice rim job." Adam looks shocked for a moment and then realizes Omar's talking about the glasses.
"Don't misinterpret Adam as a brute," Eva says. "He's the gentlest lover. He can last for hours. Trust me, we detest the class system. There is nothing middle class about your art."
Omar asks them why they don't protest the system.
"I think inviting another man into our relationship is transgression enough," she says. "Plus, you're a vampire, strictly forbidden in our circles. They don't understand true beauty."
Omar tries not to sound shocked while he says, "You're part of the Neo-cons?" The Neo-cons are one of the two extremist parties with seats on City Council. They detest the mixing of races.
She makes a kiss sound and goes back to juicing.
"My uncle is Albert Phen," Adam says. Albert Phen is the head of the Neo-cons.
Omar asks if Adam's joking.
"No joke," Adam says. He pulls off his shirt and reveals his hairless pecs and abs, and then his muscled back. He stands behind Eva, kisses at the nape of her neck, and pulls down the straps of her dress so that the silk slides down her body to the floor.
She is naked underneath.
Adam backs away to get a better view and puts his arm around Omar's shoulder.
The graceful line of her back, the petite roundness of her ass, the perfection of her milky white skin is exquisite art beyond anything Omar could ever capture in his ads. She's an art Omar desperately wants to touch, wants to taste, wants to breathe into his soul.
An art he needs to fuck and suck.
Adam whisper's into Omar's ear, "What do you think, little vamp?"
Omar takes Adam's hand. Through his slacks, Omar's cock head strains against Adam's palm. Omar tightens his pelvic muscles so that his cock twitches. "I'm not little."
Adam shows off his charming grin again, the one that always looks innocent. Omar wants to kiss it off his face, but instead looks to Eva. She turns, handing Omar and Adam a martini glass. Omar almost touches her already hard nipples, but restrains himself. He always restrains himself.
He makes a toast: "To living our lust!"
The toast earns a cheer and, after they take a drink, a light kiss from both Eva and Adam. He tastes the sugar on their lips. Adam sets out shot glasses and rum with a label printed in Japanese. Omar takes a shot with Adam and feels the pleasant burn. Eva just watches and says, "I want to see you two kiss again."
Omar shoves Adam up against the refrigerator. He tastes Adam's mouth, still spiced with rum. He flirts with Adam's tongue. He feels their bodies together. Eva's gaze intensifies everything because she makes them conscious of every movement. Omar bites without breaking skin and sucks at Adam's tinder neck and Adam gasps with disbelieving mirth. Adam release an "Oh God" and then continue to kiss. Omar presses in harder and Adam's legs spread just slightly so that he can feel Omar against his sensitive inner thighs and more fully between his legs. Omar says between kisses, "I thought the Neo-con's consider me an animal."
"I'm not all Neo-cons," Adam breathes. "I want you to take it out."
Omar's hand darts back to the cybernetics between his shoulder blades.
Eva puts on tribal sounding music with heavy drums, drums that sound like the drummer in front of the café.
Omar looks to Eva. As Adam kisses at Omar's neck, Omar pulls at the cybernetic, and its tendrils slowly pull out of his spinal cord and brain stem. While he does this, Eva moves to the music with a hand to her breast and a hand between her legs. Her dancing isn't as exotic as the drummer's woman, but it has a more sensual driving pulse. Eva's tight abdomen controls her torso as her shoulders move slowly and her tits move with her shoulders. She tweaks her left nipple between her thumb and forefinger. Her legs part, her pussy open and swollen, and she fingers her exposed clit. As she quickens her masturbation, her hips thrust slowly to the beat and she starts to moan.
He drops the bloody cyber-inhibitor onto the floor and the hunger floods back.
The wounds in Omar's back close up and he pushes from Adam and goes to Eva with the focus of a predator. He grab her arm and falls with her onto the couch. She giggles, but he feels deadly as he grabs his engorged cock at the base. She sees his sharp canines and loses her smile. He rubs the head of his cock along the opening of her pussy, feeling the wet slick flesh, and he sees the sensation in her face: her lips part, her eyes close. He pulls away when she tries to meet him with her hips and then, when she's not expecting it, he shoves his cock inside, swift and hard, and she gasps. For a moment, he holds himself pressed inside, just slightly grinding hips while groaning deep in his chest, and then he starts to fuck her hard, to the rhythm of the drums. He vocalizes the feeling of his cock thrusting into her, and breaths in her scent each time he slides back. Her moans rise to match his. Her legs wrap around his waist and her hands clutch the arm of the couch above her head. He nuzzles his face into her delicate armpit, desperate to draw blood, but abstaining. He feels his balls slap against her ass. He repositions to go deeper, so each stroke is a bit longer. The drums aren't fast enough for an animal in heat, and he quickens to a frenzy. Her pussy isn't accustomed to the intensity--Adam has always taken his time, starting with foreplay and then grinding, slowly building to exquisite peaks--and so she isn't able to catch her breath. She climaxes within the first ten minutes, her outcry like nothing Adam has ever heard.
As she clutches the couch arm and arches her back during her orgasm, he slows only for a moment, licking a nipple, so she can get air, and then he fucks her like a jackhammer until his balls are tight and her crying out sounds like pain.
As the semen rises and every muscle tightens, he feels her quiver from another orgasm, but he doesn't pull out or hold off; instead he comes in her with full force, tightening his ass and pushing in as deep as he can, as if his only purpose is to plant his seed. He pumps into her as if empting his masculinity, as if once done, he would revert to childhood. He only realizes his primal outcry when his heart has slowed and his cock has become too sensitive for further stimulation.
Omar and Eva sweat and shake. For a moment, what just happened doesn't seem real. He kisses her fully for the first time and realizes that something grand has just transpired: for the first time he feels free, because for once he abstained out of his own free will. He looks around and sees Adam standing half naked, with a confused look on his face.
"Adam, I'm sorry." Omar sits up and hugs his legs so his nudity is hidden.
Adam just stands there, the exotic rhythm of the drums the only sound. Omar's hunger for blood is acute and he holds back tears. He feels as if he's ruined everything. He thinks, "If only I had remained civilized, maybe things would be okay."
Finally, Adam gets down on his knees. Omar lowers his legs so Adam can take his hand. Adam says, "I want you to stay with us. We have an extra room. We can have your stuff shipped over. I want you to know us. I want you to feed." His proximity renews Omar's erection.
Eva puts her arms around Omar and says to Adam, "What about our friends?"
"Fuck'm," Adam says. "They don't know us."
"Nether do I," Omar says. "I don't know you. And you don't know me. I could kill you so easily."
Adam unbuttons his pants and slides up Omar's body until their cocks touch. In a compartment beside the couch is a tube of silicon nano lubricant, and Adam puts a dollop into his palm. The nanos spreads out and covers his hand.
Omar tells him it's not worth imprisonment. "If anyone found out--"
Adam kisses Omar to stop him from talking and holds their dicks together with his lubricated hand. He moves his hand up and down and it is nothing like jacking off. Then he starts moving his hips, so their dicks slide against each other, and starts kissing deep, and to Omar, Adam feels and smells and tastes so good, it is as if their cocks are merging.
Omar pulls Adam tighter, their balls jangling together. Omar's heightened senses let him experience every bit of flesh that slides and rubs against Adam.
Adam says, without stopping the thrusting of his hips, "I don't know why, but I loved you from the first moment, just like I fell for Eva. I can't just wonder what could have been. Stay. Please stay."
Omar moves off the couch, carrying Adam as if he weighs nothing, and lays Adam on a fur rug, leaving Eva on the couch.
"Feed," Adam says.
Omar takes some of the silicon lubrication from Adam's hand.
"Not my ass," Adam says. "I want to save something."
Omar holds their cocks together again and matches his breathing to Adams.
As they rub bodies, the sensation steadily builds as if a fire is stoking in their blood. Omar tries his best to follow the tenants of vampire NeoTantra. He tightens the muscle at the root of his cock and pulls the sensation up from his groin into his stomach, and then further up into his chest. The waves of ecstasy extend down his legs until his toes are curling. He says, "Pull it up. Pull the feeling up, into your body." Adam nods, staring into Omar's eyes.
Omar re-syncs their breathing and builds the energy again, this time focusing on Adam's body as well as his own. As the ecstasy builds, staring into Adam's eyes becomes too intense, and tears run from the corners of Omar's eyes. "It's time."
"I'm ready," Adam breathes.
They both still. Omar bares his canines and puts them to Adams neck. Their cocks are together but they don't move. Omar bites down and Adam orgasms a tight hard orgasm through his whole body but doesn't come. Omar lets some of the blood seep into his mouth, past his tongue, and Adam orgasms again. The blood starts to trickle down Omar's throat and into his stomach, and his whole body heats. He starts to writhe to Adams pulse.
Time melts as a lustful delirium takes over. They keep their breathing matched and a haze of Omar and Adam, close and in heat, writhing against each other's cocks, being each other's world, kissing and biting and moaning, takes over everything they know. Once the lust rises to a frightening edge, the waves of sensation become truly intense, like electricity shooting down their extremities. Adam runs a finger along the sphincter of Omar's ass and Omar feels it in his feet and along his spine.
After Omar can't stand anymore, after he starts to fear his skin will burn, he says into Adams ear, "Let it go."
Omar bites down harder, releasing a gush of blood and they both climax. A molten, ecstatic orgasm that Omar didn't know he could have without genital penetration; the tremors never seem to stop.
Once depleated, Adam is in tears, almost sobbing. Omar holds him in his arms, a hand applying pressure to stop the blood. The semen between them becomes sticky.
Eva is in a bathrobe, having taken a shower, now with another lemon drop martini in her hand--it is the first indication of how long they've been fucking. She puts a hand on Adams shoulder. "Are you okay?" she says.
Still out of breath, with a piece of suture-gauze to his neck, Adam says, "I didn't know, Eva. I didn't know how good it could be." He lets out a laugh.
She says, "I feel cheated. I'll get another turn, right, after you two wash up?"
Adam keeps laughing and rolls off. "He's here to stay. With the both of us we should be able to keep you satisfied. You do want him to stay, right, Eva?"
"Yes, I think a vampire output would be worth the trouble." She drops her robe, kneeling between Adam's legs, and kisses up his abdomen. "But, Adam," she says, "it's up to him. He has to say it. He has to say he wants to share us."
"Yes. Let's share each other," Omar says.
At that moment, Omar remembers the drummer with his haunting green eyes and his warning: "Share and ye shall receive punishment."
Eva's look of love turns to contempt, and Omar knows his mistake. Adam and Eva are Neo-cons. Omar's a moral-terrorist. Their proposal was a set up. Police-bots rush the apartment, repeating a wobbly, "Hands up! Processing net pull. Processing net pull. Processing net pull."
Reality-bots turn off Omar's CultureCube, and his vision of Adam and Eva double and blur, and a ring in his ears sharpens and then becomes dull. It takes less than a minute for an extraction from the CultureNet into reality.
Outside the CulturNet, Omar isn't a vampire. He is just a normal man.
The bots escort him, naked, down a long hall of white sterile CultureCubes. Everyone he knows lives their lives in these cubes. Despite his removal from the CultureNet, he decides that the meeting at the café was worth the price. Adam and Eva were a chance at happiness. Though his influence on the culture is over--he'll never get his old job back--he's glad he took a chance. Besides, because it was entrapment, he only gets the minimum sentence: 18 months.
A cell door slides up into the ceiling and reveals Omar's cellmate for the next year and a half. He notices his cellmate's green eyes first--that, and the sound of drumming on the bunk bed. Next, he notices his cellmate's naked body, with its tribal tattoos and its large uncircumcised cock nestled amongst the bright red pubic hair.
"I know you. You warned me and I didn't listen."
The drummer continues to drum.
"They won't let us be CyberVamps again, will they? It's the only thing I'll miss."
The drummer stands up and walks to Omar and doesn't stop until he presses Omar against the cell door. Omar can't think of a reason to resist and puts his hands on the tight curve of the drummer's ass. The drummer kisses Omar and says, "No one ever listens."
"I liked being a CyberVamp," Omar confesses as the drummer kisses at his neck. "The strength, the virility. But you understand, you were one of us. I just took out the cyber-inhibitor. I was free for the first time and they just took it away."
The drummer kisses Omar's mouth again and then says, "Is being human so bad?"
"Yes, if in the CultureNet you can be so much more? We were mythical. You won't miss that?"
The drummer smiles and reveals his long canines.
Omar takes in a breath. "But. Vampires aren't real."
"Try living in the real world for a while. Well, living might be the wrong word."
The drummer bites into Omar's neck and Omar cries out in rapture.