Eugene: Ducks Fly Together
Copyright© 2026 by Zefram
Chapter 4
Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 4 - Inspired by the world of ElSol in A Master’s Ring. Highly recommend everyone read AMR first. James Zefram Cochran and the Valentine twins are growing up and building a life as Oregon Ducks….. hoping to be almost normal college students. Normal... with the backing of the Brotherhood, the Cymry, nearly unlimited resources, a growing 'harem' of intelligent motivated women, a resort style ranch and a fast jet. But their enemies remain a deadly threat. (Follow up to Trippin with the Valentines)
Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft ft/ft Consensual BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Fan Fiction School Science Fiction Incest BDSM DomSub MaleDom Humiliation Light Bond Spanking Harem Polygamy/Polyamory
Ouch! Every few minutes ... this pain in my jaw. Reverberating into my brain.
I was just trying to sleep in my cushioned lounger on my Caribbean beach after an amazing marathon session with my young women last night. This pain that came and went interrupted my light sleep, with the soft sound of lapping water in the background. Where was it coming from? Did I need a dentist? My teeth? Fuck! My teeth ... did that mean???
I stumbled up to my bedroom, dug out the battered plastic case that held the mouthguard. It had turned black again. Why the hell didn’t Gwendolen tell me I’d get a cryptic, irritating pain when I had something new to see?
I sat in my papasan chair, popped the mouthguard in and bit down. Quickly, I was in a large, ornate room ... carved dark wood walls and ceiling, with a lighter colored tray ceiling. A large crystal chandelier in the middle seemed a bit much. Filled bookcases and cabinets on one side, a well-stocked bar on the other. I could not get close enough to read the book titles, but they seemed to have been placed more as props than for reading ... color-coded groupings of red, blue, and green covers. Six men sat in comfortable brown leather chairs at a traditional walnut conference room table. A completely empty table. Not a computer. Not a coaster, no papers or notebooks ... just nothing. Hardly a working man’s table, I thought. The light hum of moving air was the only background sound. I scanned the room and recognized no one. All seemed to be in their forties to maybe mid-fifties, fairly fit with one older guy in his sixties. They wore suits, minus the ties. The man at the head of the table looked to be the youngest, and based on where he was sitting, also in charge.
Gwendolen walked in. Finally, someone I knew. Her gait was that of a tired woman who needed sleep. She stood behind the dude at the head of the table. Gwendolen wore black scrubs. No one offered her a chair. The man at the head of the table reached up and grasped her hand from behind. “Did you pull an all-nighter, Gwen?”
“Yes, Brother, I caught the red-eye from Portland and went straight to the lab.”
“No new updates? Everything still checks out?”
“Yes, Brother, the ring remains in Antigua. We’ll ship it here today, but the tests we performed remotely are conclusive.” Gwendolen replied. “The ring is the twin of that housed in the Royal Armory at the Royal Palace in Stockholm, Sweden.”
The Brother at the head of the table asked, “And the DNA from the hair follicles?”
“One sample is from King Carl XIV Johan. It was easy to authenticate based on comparing to DNA from his descendants. The other sample is of a female we believe was the King’s royal mistress,” Gwendolen informed.
Gwendolen stood at attention next to the head of the table, but caught herself swaying, placing a hand on the table to steady herself. Her Brother frowned when she touched the surface. Damn, offer the woman a chair! Was this some male-dominant crap? If it was, it was the first unimpressive observation I had of the Cymry. I had deduced that this was their council; her Brother seemed to be the leader of the council. She had told me she was the only Sibling on the Cymry council ... and although they seemed not to let her sit; they trusted her to lead their lab and illuminate the room with her intelligence.
The lone guy in a grey suit asked. “The message all checks out so far? Did you check against the DNA of David Feather and Zefram Cochran?”
What!?! My heart pounded up into my eardrums. My throat briefly narrowed, choking me. Now I really wished I could record this shit.
“Yes, we have solved the longstanding mystery of who David Feather’s father was. It was King Carl XIV Johan. Who, as we all know, died in 1844.
“We always believed our benefactor to be only an observer, but he likely froze the King’s sperm and used it over one hundred years later with the Ekaterina woman to produce David Feather.”
“And the message?” Grey suit asked.
“It confirms the hair follicles to be the King and his mistress. Further, the message claims the King and his mistress had a secret child that was concealed away and raised in another European court as a princess.”
“What about the last portion? ‘The King and his mistress would come together again in Oregon Country, the great unifier and his loyal slave.’ What are your thoughts?” asked the Brother at the head of the table.
Gwendolen exhaled deeply and stated, “The writings on the grain of rice clearly date back to the same era when the ring was created. Addy, the child who delivered us the ring, is from royalty. She is also a direct descendant of the female DNA contained in the ring. And the King, though in her case generations removed. The entire prediction is credible.”
One of the black suits at the table whistled and said, “Does anyone else believe our benefactor had a grand plan that was never revealed to us?”
Gwendolen just shook her head. No one responded. One of the black suits snapped his fingers and said, “Slave, I need a drink!”
Grey suit added, “As do I.”
“Yes, Brothers.”
As Gwendolen was walking to the bar, I ripped the mouthguard out and looked at it. It was still black. I put the mouthguard back in and bit down. Gwendolen was still walking to the bar on the side of the conference table. My test showed that while I could not rewind or replay the scenes, I could pause them.
I ripped the mouthguard out again, got up, and removed my laptop from my bag. I googled the King and the ring. And then went down the dark hole of the King’s origins. Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte, born of a middle-class family in France. The extraordinarily unlikely rise from relatively humble beginnings: his father dies, he joins the French army, becomes a brilliant French revolutionary general, known as the best military mind of his era.
But as I read this, my mind kept going back to how the men in the room were treating Gwendolen. I knew the Cymry were still male-dominant, but this was not about sex and kink and the protocols that go along with it. That I could understand. But this is different, disturbing. They were being casually cruel to a woman who was certainly their equal in intellect and social skills. And surpassing them greatly in technical knowledge.
I thought about the men in the room ... all white. I did not want to go there. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but I had witnessed petty racism even in Iowa. And ‘always on’ sexism lived in the same minds of losers. I filed it away as something I might have to address in the future.
Then I thought about my own actions. I enjoyed having my women strip naked in front of me. But that was sexual. Fun kinks I enjoyed and my women craved. I was dominant; my women were submissive. But I still respected the hell out of them. What they were doing to Gwendolen was mean, and seemingly for no reason.
I may have been premature in enthusiastically embracing Society and Cymry reunification. I needed to have a long talk with my Gwen, Gwendolen’s daughter, and soon. And Nate! Was he about to see these memories too?
I went back to reading about my grandfather. He was an anti-monarchist and yet became King of Sweden and later Norway. Damn! And I thought I had a charmed life! It was so unbelievable that I suspected the Brotherhood’s fingerprints all over it. I bit down on the mouthguard again.
Grey suit cleared his throat and spoke. “Somehow the dead King fathers a son over a hundred years later who becomes an accomplished military man and killer for the US government ... and later an enforcer for the Brotherhood. He fathers a son who also becomes a Brother, but is the complete opposite of his father. A peacemaker and uniter, everyone loves him...”
Gwendolen interrupts, “But neither David nor Z are complete opposites; they both represent the King’s life and abilities.”
“Nature versus nurture? Would Z have become a killer too if he had grown up in foster care?” the old guy mused.
A dark suit contributed, “Or would David have become what Z is now if he had a normal middle-class childhood?”
Gwendolen spoke up again, “Don’t forget about the other half of Z’s DNA ... another powerful Bloodline.”
The head of the table Brother sighed heavily, “We criticized the Brotherhood’s eugenics efforts with Bloodline breeding, but now there is compelling evidence that our benefactor has been doing so too. At least in this one case.”
“Maybe there is another explanation?” A dark suit offered.
“Back before 1844? Who else would have possessed the technology?” Gwendolen asked, more a statement than a question.
“Maybe David Feather is a century and a half old?” the same dark suit said. “That fucker seems impossible to kill.”
Gwendolen laughed; she seemed to be the only one. “Oh, you were serious! David Feather has a well-documented history going back to his time as a very young boy in foster care.”
“How much of the King can really be in David and Zefram? This is all so far-fetched.” Dark suit said.
“Traditional science recognizes that people pass down mental talents and cognitive abilities from generation to generation,” Gwendolen said.
“But transfer of consciousness? Are we really making the leap to this?” one of the dark suits at the table asked.
“Z believes a voice in his head guides him at key moments. The voice says his name is Jason. Who knows, David might be in there too if he is no longer alive. And now, perhaps the King guides him also?” Gwendolen insisted.
“That would be quite the crowd in his brain, poor kid,” a dark suit said.
“Though really, Z need not hear voices, the guidance can be much more ... nuanced.” Gwendolen persisted.
“Who among us would not want his fortune, women, and youth?” Said the last dark suit, chuckling while contributing his limited intelligence and wit, “I’d take a few voices if they helped me get all that.”
“Six hot, hot crested Siblings,” said yet another dark suit.
“Seven, as of later today.” added Gwendolen.
“Let’s stop this talk; one of those women is my daughter,” the head of the table Brother said.
Well, that sealed it. That guy is Gwendolen’s Brother, Gwen’s father. I am not impressed with him. And why the hell has no Cymry Brother talked to me. Only Gwendolen, whom they allow to talk, but not to sit at their precious table. Am I considered not worthy to talk to a Cymry Brother? Or are they all dim bulbs, afraid of me? This is a Cymry weakness that could damage the good things we had going.
“Is David Feather dead?” Asked grey suit.
“The Brotherhood tells us he is alive. I’m not sure they really know. But we all saw the memory device entry from the night the attackers assaulted his house. The Brotherhood was in the middle of a purge. His survival kept them safer back then. Even the rumor of his survival would put fear into the hearts of the opposition.” Gwendolen offered.
The same dark suit laughs and slams his hand on the table. “Preposterous!!! Z having his dead grandfather, the King, in his mind, and maybe his dead or alive father.”
Gwendolen stood her ground, literally. “Then explain how an eighteen-year-old has accomplished what Z has? Explain the ring? The message?”
The Brother at the head of the table redirected the conversation. “How much does Zefram know?”
“We need to tell him soon, and the Brotherhood council too.” Gwendolen replied.
“This changes our world. We must understand all the ramifications before sharing this news.” Grey suit said.
“That may be a problem. We have given memory devices to Nate, the Brotherhood council leader, and to Zefram himself,” the head of the table Brother said.
The grey - suited man’s face turned red with rage, slammed the table with his fist, rattling the melting ice in the two glasses on the table. “What the fuck! Why? We are giving total access to the Society that hunted us down ... and ... this kid!”
“Reunification. It is a new era. Trust between the Brotherhood and the Cymry. We have not lied to them, and the benefactor directed us to give them the device. That kid is the grandson of our King. And he controls the Valentine twins,” the head of the table said.