Zak's Foundation
Chapter 1

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Mult, Consensual, Mind Control, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Science Fiction, Extra Sensory Perception, Group Sex, Harem, Interracial, Pregnancy,

Desc: Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Howard is recruited by the charitable Zak Starborn Foundation, and finds himself joining a secret war against the Supernatural Threat Department and their Despicable alien benefactors.

Howard Farrell assessed the situation quickly: Three punks with Technicolor hair and an assortment of weapons against one guy in a suit who looked like he'd never clenched his fists in his life. It was none of his business, but three-against-one was not something he was prepared to tolerate. He took a deep breath and rushed the trio, drawing back his fist and taking down the one with the purple mohawk and crowbar as he was turning to see what the new sound was. Suit Guy took off when the other two toughs turned their attention to the aggressive newcomer. He was limping; unless Howard beat these two or at least slowed them down long enough for him to get a taxi, they would catch him and resume their malicious intentions.

"Bad move, guy." said one of them, whose hair was green on his left, orange in the center and blue on the right. "I don't put up with resistance. Ever. There's only two ways to go in this world: My way, or the die way." He started reaching for a gun, but Howard kicked it out of his hand before he had the chance to use it.

"Did you hurt yourself coming up with that one?" Howard quipped. A shot from the other guy, solid blue hair in spikes, nicked Howard's left shoulder.

"What the hell kind of shooting is that?" the leader demanded of his cohort. Howard kicked the weapon from the other's grip and broke his nose with a hard right punch. The leader was coming up from behind, so Howard kicked backwards as hard as he could. A girlish scream confirmed that he had hit his target. His left shoulder was throbbing, so he threw another right-handed punch, knocking teeth from the spike-hair and sending him to the ground for the foreseeable future. The other was crawling toward his gun, so Howard stepped on his hand.

"I don't put up with three-on-one." Howard said. "Ever." He picked up the weapon and looked it over. "Cheap gun for a cheap crook." He delivered a vicious kick that sent Mr. Rainbow Hair into unconsciousness, picked up the other gun, and took both out of the alley with him.

"Nice." said another voice. Howard turned, ready to meet a new threat, but the person he found was dressed in business-casual attire, and his body language was non-threatening. "You're wounded, though."

"I'll put some iodine on it when I get home."

"What are you going to do with the guns?" the stranger asked.

"I'm going to get rid of them." he said. "My mom has a trash compactor."

"I believe I can save you some explaining when you get home." the stranger said, and like magic, the two guns floated out of Howard's hands, coming together and suddenly glowing bright yellow, melting into a ball of metal and plastic. The ammunition went off under the intense heat, but Howard could see a weird force field containing the little explosions.

"How'd you do that?" Howard asked, gaping in shock as the wad of material cooled and floated into a nearby trash can.

"A question for another time, I'm afraid." the man said, handing him an embossed business card. He touched Howard's shoulder and walked off. Howard glanced down at the wound, but though he found torn, bloodstained and scorched cloth on his sleeve, the flesh beneath was as pristine as the day he was born.

"Whoa." he whispered. He looked back to where the man had been, but he was gone. Looking down at the card, he found only the emblem of the Zak Starborn Foundation, a charity group that, as far as Howard knew, spent most of its time funding medical and scientific research and writing scholarship checks for kids with a genuine desire to become scientists or doctors. On the back was a notation:

Victor Phillips

Pan-Galactic Hotel

Rm 1985

Fri 6pm


"Huh." he mumbled to himself as he headed home. Victor Phillips was a weird guy, always hanging out with pregnant women. He had a son by his rich fortune-teller wife and an adopted daughter, owned a hotel, ran a charity group with a guy who looked like someone had fused Adam and Jamie from Mythbusters, but still worked at the local TV station. Why would he want to talk to a young would-be vigilante who wasn't even out of high school yet?

Friday came, and Howard left for the hotel early in case of traffic and flat tires and other misfortunes, parking his mom's car in the underground parking garage at just shy of three-thirty. He set his watch to go off at five-thirty and leaned the seat back to take a nap. Soon, he was in the grip of an erotic dream. Naked women surrounded him, caressing him, pleasing him in ways he had never imagined. When he woke up, he found to his embarrassment that he had made a bit of a mess in the front of his pants. Reaching into the back seat, he grabbed a jacket to cover himself with while he did his best to clean up with the squished roll of Charmin in the center console. His father had left a bottle of Aspen cologne, which Howard used to try to conceal any tell-tale smells.

The Pan-Galactic Hotel was a strange building. Its sleek lines, the sweeping wing-like structures connecting outlying service areas to the main body, and the strange architectural features up near the roof made it look like a space ship on a launching pad. The inside was neither Spartan nor ostentatious. "Tasteful" was the first word that came to Howard's mind as he took in his surroundings--quite a contrast from the one other time he'd been in an actual hotel (and not a motel), where he had been made to feel they were charging him for the very air he breathed. The uniforms of the staff were a far cry from the stereotypical monkey-suits--functional, not demeaning. There were tasteful displays of space memorabilia--autographed pictures of astronauts, a copy of the local newspaper from the day of Sputnik's launch, and Howard saw a chunk of meteorite in a glass case when some of the younger guests made a gap. The carpet was nice, too.

"You should definitely visit the pool at night." said a female voice. Howard turned in surprise to see a girl in a blue uniform smiling so sweetly he couldn't help but smile back. "That's when they start projecting Hubble images up on the dome ceiling. I never get tired of them."

"Thanks, um..." he began.

"Teddy." she responded. "Actually, Theodora, but my parents were weird." Howard nodded, still smiling, until he remembered the card, which he handed over to the girl. "Huh." she said. "The public elevators don't go up to the nineteenth floor. Guess I gotta take you. Upstairs, I mean ... um, I mean, to your appointment." She was blushing prettily now, her short, strawberry-blonde hair falling into her face for a moment.

"It's okay." Howard said. Teddy called another girl to cover the desk for her and led Howard through a maze-like assortment of hallways. She put her hand on a hand-shaped piece of glass, then put her eye to a slot from which a green light was emitted.

"Teddy Benden and guest." she said into a little microphone. Howard looked around to see if he could catch a weapon retracting, so he missed seeing her put his card in a slot. The elevator opened, and Teddy led him inside.

"Would I have been shot if you hadn't added that 'and guest' part?" Howard asked.

"Oh, no." Teddy said. Howard sighed with relief. "They would have filled the elevator car with sleeping gas and dealt with you after we passed out." He looked at her, but her expression told him she was joking.

"Why don't the public elevators go up to the nineteenth floor?" Howard asked.

"Because the top three floors belong to the Foundation." Teddy said. "Mr. Starborn and Mr. Phillips do a lot of good things, and bad people hate when good people do good things, so good people have to defend themselves. You can't see it unless you know what to look for and how to look for it, but the front desk has a force field based on the containment fields some science labs use to isolate antimatter. They teach us how not to be obvious about pushing the button when we let people back behind the desk, but we do have to push one to disable the field long enough to get someone in."

"Sounds a little paranoid." Howard muttered.

"Last week a squad of terrorists pretending to be government agents came in and hurt two guests before Security took them down." Teddy said. "The bullets went 'tzzt!' when they hit the shields on the counter. You really don't appreciate security measures until they save your keister, ya know?" When she turned her face forward again, Howard found himself looking, and decided hers was a keister worth saving, not too big, not too small, just round enough to be alluring. He looked away before she could catch him. The doors opened and a huge, black man appeared.

"This way, Mr. Farrell." the man said. "Teddy, thank you for escorting him."

"No problem, Mr. Turner." Teddy said. The doors closed as soon as Howard was out of the elevator, and he could hear the car taking Teddy back down to work. Mr. Turner led Howard through another door which opened with a passcode.

Howard's jaw dropped. Beyond the door was an array of beings to put a Star Trek convention to shame, all going about their business as if it were the most natural thing in the universe. Here, a cluster of beings that looked like a cross between Klingons and Saiyans with a little Crite mixed in for flavor, there, something that reminded Howard of a Kaminoan from Star Wars Episode II. Answering phones in one office was a humanoid avian (or an avian humanoid) with colorful but vestigial feathers on its arms. Their path was blocked by a group of beings embroiled in a heated debate--apparently the entire pantheon of the Egyptian gods. Mr. Turner said something to them in their language, and they made a hole briefly so the two humans could pass.

Room 1985 was quiet as a tomb by comparison. Victor Phillips, Inet Astarte Phillips, Penelope Simms Phillips, Zaid Rahotep and Zak Starborn were waiting for them, along with an old guy Howard couldn't name. Zak touched a stud on the strange medallion he wore, and his appearance altered to that of an orange, muscular alien with nostril slits near the top of his bald head.

"Welcome, Howard." Victor said.

"This is so cool!" Howard whispered, and took the seat to which Victor gestured him.

"Let's get right down to it then." Zak said. "You've been asked here because of your strong sense of justice. Our Foundation is growing, but there are still few of us, whereas our enemies are still many. Anonymity is our best defense, and surprise our greatest weapon, greater even than our powers."

"Oh ... uh, I don't have any powers." Howard said.

"If you did, there's a good chance the government would have picked you up already." Victor said. "Last year, I ran afoul of the Texas branch of a secret government program which exists to enforce a secret policy: that all psychics and extraterrestrials are government property, military assets with no more rights than your average socket wrench." Howard's eyes narrowed and his fists clenched. Victor nodded understandingly. "My original mission was to empower people with a strong sense of justice--like yours--and to breed prolifically so that people like us eventually outnumber people like our current leaders. That mission still stands, but its success now depends on winning a secret war that makes guerilla warfare look like a duel of honor."

"What can I do to help?" Howard asked. Zak smiled and rose to his feet, his hand extended as if for a shake. Howard rose and extended his own hand, but the extraterrestrial evaded the young human's grasp and touched his forehead instead. He never felt his body hit the floor.

It was dark when Howard came to. He was not alone. Touching a little domed light on the nightstand produced a soft illumination that managed not to disturb his bedfellow--Teddy, who was dressed in a scarlet silk teddy with spaghetti straps. He fell out of bed and stumbled back to his feet. Teddy's soft hand moved, searching for Howard. He went to the bathroom.

It seemed as if he could hear her speaking, but her lips hadn't moved. He could sense that she was still sleepy, though she was waking up reasonably fast. He closed the bathroom door and lifted up the toilet seat.

What's happened to me? he asked, staring in shock at his new, larger penis. The thing had to be at least nine inches long, and twice as thick as it had been before.

"Howard, honey, are you in there?" Teddy's voice asked. He could hear her thoughts, feel her feelings, could search through her memories like video files on a computer. Something kept his new power in check, restraining it to the hotel room and its connected bathroom. It took him several minutes to relax enough to pee. He washed his hands and opened the bathroom door slightly. Teddy peered in, her eyes having trouble adjusting to the brightness of the light. "Come on back to bed, sweetie." she urged.

"We, uh, haven't done it, have we?" he asked.

"If we had, this would be in a puddle on the floor." she said with a wink. Her smile faded. "Don't you like me?"

"I do ... I'm just confused, that's all." he said. "I don't remember a thing after my meeting with Mr. Phillips and ... and the others."

"You were unconscious when they brought me here." Teddy said. "'Part of the change, ' they said." He blushed as his new nine-incher poked out of the bottom of his boxers leg. Teddy laughed softly. "Come on. If you're going to do your job, you can't be shy around women." She touched his hand, intensifying the psychic sensations coming from her. Their minds clicked like the two halves of a seatbelt, and he knew everything about her. He also knew, to his relief, that no one had made any mental changes to her. Her desires were genuine. His lips melded with hers, and then their tongues were becoming acquainted. He slid the teddy to the floor and carried Teddy to the bed. He tossed his boxers aside, and they landed on top of Teddy's teddy. Teddy rolled him onto his back, her tongue wrestling with his, her stiff nipples brushing against his chest. She grabbed his hands and put them on her boobs. "Touch them, feel them, massage them." she moaned. He did so, his thumbs moving across her nipples, drawing a hiss of pleasure from between her teeth. "That's good." she informed him. She reached down and took hold of his shaft, holding it still as she lowered her vagina onto it. Her eyelids fluttered, and a long, low moan emerged from her throat as she slid onto him, and she shivered as he bottomed out inside her. He kissed her neck, her face, her breasts, and she moved her hips, squeezing him with strong muscles on the upstrokes. Soon, he was erupting inside her.

The memory of his dream returned suddenly. He rolled over so he was on top of her, and began to pump his still-hard cock into Teddy's willing body. She gasped and shouted in pleasure, encouraging him all the more. Her nails scratched his back when she came, and he fountained within her once again. They were still connected when they fell asleep together, sharing one another's dreams for the rest of the night.

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