Chapter 1

It had no body, no physical shape. Many billions of years before, its ancestors, an advanced race of people, had evolved out of the need for physical form. As such it was as close to immortal as an entity could be. It drifted in a low orbit around the blue-green planet, a mass of pure energy, undetectable by any of the crude scanning devices that the people below utilized to sweep their skies and the vacuum of space around them for intruders. It felt those scanning waves sweeping over it constantly, day and night, from all corners of the world, and it disapproved of them. They were the instruments of paranoia, of mistrust, of irrational fear. It was not what it had hoped for at this point in the evolutionary process that it had set into motion thirty-six thousand planetary revolutions before.

In addition to the scanning waves it received the radio signals, the television signals, and, most recently, the digital signals that were sent from place to place by primitive equipment that allowed the signals to leak into space. It had the capability of entering their satellites, their databases, their "Internet" as they called it and absorbing the wealth of knowledge that they had accumulated so far. It knew what this species considered important, what its drives were, what it sought after and dreamed about. And the entity was not very happy with the direction that things were moving.

It was a young entity, as far as such things went, and this small, blue-green planet that the inhabitants called Earth, was only the second of its experiments. Though it was praised by its peers and betters for having designed an intelligent species that had managed to last so long on only its second attempt at seeding, it feared that the experiment of Earth would have to be terminated soon. Something had gone wrong somewhere along the line, probably in the original programming that the species had been given. This did not seem a race that would ever be able to achieve the ability to evolve beyond their bodies. It was a species that seemed incapable of developing the group morality required for such a thing.

This was a species that pretended to worship the principals of morality and goodness but that was destroying itself with greed and self-interest. This was a species full of corporeal entities that realized their own mortality but that instead of trying to pick themselves up, to move beyond the short lived bodies of flesh and bone, dedicated themselves instead to amassing large caches of worthless material possessions. To compensate for their mortality they had invented ridiculous legends of life after death, of heaven, of hell. They taught their children these beliefs from the time they were infants, drilling them into their heads and entrenching them before the children in question had a chance to consider other options. They fought bitter wars over these beliefs, killed millions of precious lives in the name of their gods with no concept of what it really meant to take a life. They willingly flung themselves into battle for these beliefs and for the greed of their masters, all the while under the mistaken impression that heaven awaited them. And they stagnated on their planet, breeding billions that would toil for a few revolutions and then die without ever trying to better themselves, confident in the fact that things would be better after death; as if betterment, evolution, paradise was that easy to achieve.

The only time that this species advanced forward in any meaningful way was during periods of war. The focus of their technology was a constant drive to place themselves in a superior position to other members of their planet. Their main focus was on power for their group and the denial of power to other groups. They deliberately denied basic life resources to some while amassing more than was possibly needed for others. They were obsessed with ruling, with power, and as a result there were more than 200 individual governments, all run by the wealthiest, by the greediest of the species and every revolution more appeared. They were moving in reverse these humans, de-uniting at the whims of the powerful instead of trying to unite for the betterment of all.

Worst of all this greed, this quest for power and personal wealth had spread from the elite to even the most common person. The children were taught the greed in school. The basic morals that ruled behavior had been modified to revere the greed, to seek out the wealth at all costs, no matter what the consequences to others.

Where had it gone wrong? How did these humans evolve into such a state? Where, in the original DNA programming, had the mistake been made? The entity had its suspicions of course. Though it was a young entity without much experience in seeding worlds it had the ability to be subjective about its own errors. The human design that it had come up with was a fragile species in the harsh environment that they had started with. They were born helpless, unable to walk or communicate. This had been a design necessity. To accommodate the large brains that the species required in order to achieve the intelligence necessary to evolve, the young had to be born underdeveloped, before their heads grew too large for safe egress from the females. It knew that it had designed the females very well, programming them with an instinctive and fierce desire to nurture and protect their young. If it became necessary to start over, it would not change a thing about the female's instinctive drives.

But the males, that was where it all fell apart.

Territorial instinct. That was more than likely the root of all the problems that the species now had. That was what would probably lead to the elimination of the species and a fresh start with a new design. This was a trait that had been vital in the early evolution of the humans. While the female's drive was to protect the young, the male's drive was to establish and protect an area to live in. In the early years this kept the females safe enough to give birth and the young safe enough to live and learn. It had worked admirably at first, perhaps too admirably. The males had been given too much of this instinct and not enough of the instinct to protect the children that the females had produced. The males, thanks to this programming and against the plans of the entity that had created them, had ended up becoming the dominant sex in the evolutionary pattern.

The entire history, the entire society of Earth was now based upon this territorial instinct and it was reflected everywhere. It was the reason that there were two hundred countries, with strictly defined borders, with tanks and planes and nuclear weapons guarding them. It was the reason that there was property ownership with recorded deeds, with fences around the property in question, with laws about trespassing upon that property. It was the reason that acquisition of power and money was the main focus of life; for what were these accumulations but the conquering of more territory?

The male members of the species were out of control, were perhaps incapable of further growth and while the female members of the species would perhaps do a better job, even they had become corrupted over the generations and instilled with the male traits. Nor were the males likely to ever forfeit their domination of the planet in favor of the females. It seemed that things had spun out of control on Earth. It seemed that there was no hope for recovery and further evolution.

But the entity had to be sure before it terminated an entire species. It had to know that the programming was so fouled that no hope remained and that termination was the only option. The question was how to determine that?

It had a companion, what would have been considered a mate had they had differentiated sexes and physical bodies. The companion was more experienced in these matters, had seeded more worlds with greater success. The entity sought the companion's advice on the matter.

The companion spent three revolutions pouring through databases and across Internet lines, learning all it could about the troubled humans. At last, it gave an opinion. "There is no hope for your ruling classes," it articulated, "they are corrupt beyond belief, every one of them."

"Yes," the entity agreed. "If there is to be salvation it will have to come from the common people. It is obvious that the ruling classes are steering the direction of the species into an inevitable collapse under the weight of their own greed. But what will happen after? Will the common people that survive the encounter, that rise to rebuild, will they be just as corrupt?"

"I believe that may very well be. I fear that you have a basic design flaw in your programming that makes it impossible for them not to be corrupted by achieving power over others. It is possible that even the most moral common person on your world will abuse power if given any. If that is the case, then it will be impossible for your species to evolve any more. If they cannot achieve unity and empathy for each other, they cannot advance. All they will be able to do is keep building up to a certain point in their history and collapsing back to rubble once more. It will go on forever."

"I see."

"It would be kinder to eliminate them with a comet or an asteroid than to allow them to become locked into a vicious cycle like that."

"I agree," the entity replied. "But I must be sure that all hope is gone before I take such a step."

"Of course," the companion articulated. "I would suggest a series of experiments among your common people."

"Experiments of what sort?"

"Pick a few common members of the species and instill them with the power to control others. See what they do with it. I suspect that it will corrupt them horribly, no matter how moral they are before they are given the power. I suspect the corruption is in their nature. Try a few male members of the species and then a few females."

"The males will abuse the power in order to achieve sex," the entity pointed out. "I gave them far too strong of a reproductive urge."

"Yes, a common error in seeding among the inexperienced. A strong reproductive urge does advance the species more quickly but, as you have found, it has side effects later in the process. In any case, I have no doubt that your males will abuse the power so that they may satisfy their reproduction needs. This is not as consequential as what they do with the power in other ways. That will be the real determining factor."

"Thank you for your advice."

"I wish you the best of luck with your experiment. If it fails and you have to start over, don't be upset. You have already gone far past expectations. It took me five tries before I was able to develop a species that survived long enough to achieve powered flight. It took me another three tries before I was able to get one past the atomic experimentation age without having them destroy each other in a war. You have already done that on only your second attempt. You are to be congratulated no matter what your outcome is."

"Once again, I thank you."

"I will leave you to your work now," the companion said. "Let me know how it turns out."

"Of course."

The entity began looking for the perfect human to start the experiment with. For the first one, it wanted a male of the common class that had a strong sense of empathy for others. It wanted a person who realized the corruption that existed in the world and who was appalled by it. He wanted a person who sincerely believed that exploiting others, that pushing forth your own interests at the expense of others, was wrong. There were such people in the world, a great many of them (although none were in positions of power). If there were any hope for the species, it would lie with these people.

It took the entity nearly a revolution of pouring through computer records and files, of zipping here and there through the Internet before it decided upon the first candidate: Paul Woods. Paul was twenty-eight years old and lived in the city of Lincoln, Nebraska in one of the most powerful of the political divisions on the planet. He had a master's degree in World History and was currently employed as a teacher of children at a high school. He had a mate that also worked as a teacher at the same school. He had no children. Based upon the computer records of Paul Woods, he paid his bills and his taxes on time, never cheating on them. He did not smoke or drink excess alcohol (this was based on records from grocery store computers). He did occasionally peruse various Internet pornography sites and had rented the occasional pornographic film but these traits were to be expected from a male of the species. He had never been arrested, had never even been given a traffic citation, and he volunteered his time at a charity school for underprivileged children. His debts were about average for his class, which was to say that they were considerable. He and his mate had car payments to meet, several credit cards that were charged to the limit and a second mortgage on their house. Their total asset to liability ratio was a negative equation, just like many others of the working class. Paul, however, who had an IQ of 132, was smart enough to realize that such a ratio was a deliberate design on the part of the ruling and wealthy class.

Now that the entity had found its subject, it needed to be decided just how contact would be made and just how much knowledge the subject would be instilled with about the experiment. It decided that telling the subject why it was being given the power would possibly have a negative influence on the outcome. As for how to make contact, it figured that the direct approach was probably the best one. It entered the communications network of the planet and, moving at the speed of light, was inside Paul Woods' house less than a second later.

Paul Woods was sitting at the desk in his computer room, sipping out of a glass of iced tea and catching up on some schoolwork. Since it was Sunday, he was dressed comfortably though somewhat slobbishly in a pair of tattered sweat pants and nothing else. It was late spring in eastern Nebraska but the weather was unseasonably humid. There had been reports on the morning news that thunderstorms and even tornadoes might develop if the current weather pattern held. He had the window next to the desk open to combat the heat but the air was so still, so stagnant that he might as well have kept it closed. The only ventilation was a small electric fan that was plugged in on the nightstand. He had it aimed directly at his bare back although it was turned low so that it would not disturb the papers he had scattered before him.

Despite the unseasonable weather Paul was good-natured about it. He was one of those people that it was difficult to upset, no matter what the offense. His wife sometimes told him that he was the kind of person that, if mugged by an armed robber on the streets, would thank him for the experience. Maybe he wasn't THAT good-natured, but then again, maybe he was. God knew that his wife had tried her best to break through that gentle good humor. She had tried time and time again since their marriage. She seemed to take it as a personal insult that he would not fight with her when she wanted to argue and Terry Woods, the beautiful English teacher that he had met his own first year teaching, was a woman who liked to argue.

Paul knew that this tendency to chip, nag, and attempt to get a rise out of her spouse was a compulsion learned from her mother. He had often enough seen Barbara Vale, the mother in question, using the exact same tones, the exact same words on Mike Vale, Terry's father. Strangely enough, Mike always responded to the words with words of his own. Some of the most vicious fights he had ever seen married couples engage in had taken place at his in-laws' house. Though it had been difficult to accept at first, seeing such things over the three years he had known Terry had convinced Paul that Mike and Barbara LIKED having their daily knock-down, drag-out marital spats. They got off on it somehow. It was strange behavior, behavior that he had not been raised to either participate in or even conceive of, but it was true. And Terry, who HAD been raised with such behavior, seemed to feel herself short-changed because her husband would not indulge her impulses. He met her attempts to argue with him with simple, calm agreement or disagreement with whatever point she was trying to make. When she became belligerent, which happened frequently, he would respond with a weapon that never failed to bring the argument to a quick end. It was a weapon that she had no counter for, that she found difficult to tolerate: silence.

When things began to spin out of control, when her face would start to turn red from shouting, he would simply say: "I believe we've talked enough about this for now. If you wish, we'll discuss it again later, after you've calmed down." From that point on he would say no more to her, would not react to her in any way no matter what she said. He would simply stare blankly ahead, a thoughtful expression on his face, giving no clue that he even heard her words. She would usually increase the tone of her voice, letting her belligerence edge into the red zone. She would usually get right in his face, so close that he would feel her breath on him as she yelled. She would occasionally resort to the crudest, cruelest insults imaginable. She would make cracks about his manhood, about his worth as a human being, even about his prowess in the marital bed. But no matter what, he would simply sit there, letting her words pass over and around him. Eventually, and it usually happened quickly these days, she would give up and storm away. If the matter were something that REALLY needed discussing she would do as he asked and return later for a calmer talk about it. If it was just one of the petty things that she picked as the basis for arguments, things like how much gas was left in which car or who had left a towel on the floor, she would let it drop until the next time.

Terry, however, was not ALWAYS like this. If she had been, Paul would have divorced her or annulled the marriage long ago. The urge to argue was simply an unpleasant aspect of her personality, an idiosyncrasy that she possessed but that he had learned to live with. When she was not locked into this urge to fight, Terry was almost the ideal spouse.

She was very attractive his wife, the most attractive female that had ever shown an interest in him. A tall, nicely proportioned brunette with long, sexy legs, Terry was undoubtedly the subject of many a masturbation fantasy among the tenth and eleventh graders that she taught. The male members of the faculty undoubtedly shared these fantasies as well. He knew for a fact that the principal himself, a notorious lecher who was privately suspected of having illegal relations with several of the junior and senior girls over the years, had once propositioned her during a meeting. They still laughed at the thought that that arrogant, egotistic man could ever think that he would be given access to her treasures.

In addition to being attractive, which Paul had to admit was a very important factor to his visually stimulated male psyche, Terry was a very sexual creature. The passion she displayed for argument could be turned to a passion for physical pleasure and often was. Though they had been married for more than two years now and though they were past the so-called honeymoon phase, they still made love at least five times a week. Terry loved every aspect of sexuality. There was little that they had not experimented with since the first time they had made love on their third date. Terry enjoyed anal sex, oral sex - both giving and receiving - and sex in dangerous places. On their honeymoon, as they flew to Acapulco, she had enticed him into the 737's restroom somewhere over Texas and initiated him into the mile-high club. She had once given him a blowjob in the AV room at the high school where they taught. She had once pulled up her skirt, pushed aside her panties, and had him screw her in the glass enclosed elevator of a Las Vegas casino. He had once eaten her to orgasm from beneath a table while she manned a pastry booth at the annual PTA carnival.

But their sex life, as appealing as it was, was not what the main focus of their relationship was based upon. When she was not trying to fight with him, Terry was a woman that he could talk to, could share his thoughts with. Despite her faults he loved her deeply and was happy with her. Her urge to fight was something that had to be endured just as she was forced to endure his refusal to fight.

Currently, as he read through essays for his eleventh grade American History class, Terry was working at the kitchen table on a stack of English essays for her eleventh graders. It was the lot of teachers in this world to put up with low pay and to put in no less than ten hours each week of their unpaid off time to such tasks. When he was about halfway through his stack, she came in to ask him if he needed a refresh on his tea.

"No thank you sweetie," he said, offering her a smile and letting his eyes crawl over her body. She was currently wearing nothing but a half-shirt and a pair of white shorts.

"How goes your stack of fine literature?" she asked him, continuing into the room and putting her hands on his bare shoulders. She began to gently massage him. "Is it as fascinating as mine?"

"I'm sure it is," he said, leaning into her and letting his head fall momentarily back. "Especially the one I was just reading."

"Oh?" she said.

"It's from Carrie Miles," he told her, knowing that would require no further explanation. She had Carrie in one of her classes as well, probably had an English essay from her on her desk. Carrie was a gorgeous, airheaded stereotypical cheerleader. She had probably figured out by the age of twelve or so that her looks were going to take her as far as she needed to go in life and that it was therefore unnecessary to waste any of her precious brain capacity in the pursuit of knowledge. She appeared at school each day dressed in the latest seasonably appropriate name-brand clothing and she always had a throng of admiring boys around her. Though she would more than likely be next year's homecoming queen, head cheerleader, and student council president, though she was more than likely a future lawyer or doctor's wife, her intellect was about as sharp as a manhole cover. "Listen to this," he said. "The essay question was: explain the intolerable acts and how they contributed to the American Revolution. Pretty simple eh?"

"Seemingly," she agreed, letting her hands slide a little further down his back. "What did she write?"

"The intolerable acts," he read, "were some acts that were really really bad and that the people couldn't tolerate. That is why they called them the intolerable acts."

Terry giggled. "Really REALLY bad?" she mocked.

"Really really bad," he confirmed, giggling with her. "She goes on like that for almost a page. She calls them 'very very unfair', 'totally bogus', and towards the end, an 'abdominalization'. Never once however, does she mention a single specific act or a single specific year, let alone how they led to the revolution."

Terry shook her head, partly in concernation, partly in amusement. "Maybe I'll let you read her essay on Animal Farm later. It's almost as good."

"I bet."

"I hear she's also caught the eye of our esteemed principal," she said slyly. "How long do you think it'll be until she's invited to a private conference with him after school?"

"How do you know she hasn't already been to one?" he returned, spinning around in his chair. He let his hands grab the back of her thighs, let his fingers dig into the soft, familiar flesh. "And speaking of private conferences... " he ran his hands upward, until they were under the hem of her shorts, caressing the cheeks of her ass, "maybe we should have one of our own."

"Maybe we should," she said, clenching her buttocks in response to his words, tightening the flesh under his hands.

He leaned forward and put his mouth to the smooth flesh on her stomach, tasting her skin, sucking it. He probed her belly button with his tongue, swirling the tip around and making her sigh. Removing his hands from her ass, he brought them around to her front and popped open the button on her shorts. He grasped the zipper between his fingers, sliding it slowly downward, revealing the pink, frilly panties beneath, smelling the sharp, heavy odor of her musk radiating from beneath them.

Hooking his fingers into the waistband of her shorts he tugged downward, drawing them, and her panties, down her legs. Her sex was already wet, the lips glistening with a sheen of moisture. She stepped out of her clothes, kicking them across the room. She then hiked one leg up onto his desk, opening herself to him, twisting her body so her pussy and her neatly trimmed black curls were in his face. Her hands found the back of his head and pulled him forward. He let his tongue glide between her swelling lips, licking up and down while his hands alternately caressed her tight ass cheeks and her smooth inner thighs. From above him she moaned out her encouragement as she ran her fingers through his short hair, pulling him tighter to her when the circumstances required it.

He licked at her until her lips were ruby red and her clit was a swollen nub of flesh pulsating with desire. He then moved his mouth upward, taking the clit between his lips and sucking lightly upon it while his right hand slid into her crotch and plunged into her wetness.

"Ohhhh," she moaned, her hips beginning to undulate back and forth. "You know how to eat a pussy baby."

"Mmmm," he returned, increasing his suction. He slid the thumb of his hand through her wetness, saturating it with her juices and his saliva and making it slippery. He then slid it towards her rear until it was nestled against the bud of her anus. He pushed upward, feeling the tight membrane accept his intrusion and clench at him.

"Oh Goddd," she panted, twisting her hips to drive his thumb deeper. "Yesss, stick it up my asss!"

He sucked her clit and thumb-fucked her ass until she moaned out an orgasm, nearly falling to the ground from the tremors. When she regained control she pulled back and looked at him, a lustful glint in her eyes.

"You naughty man," she said. "Doing that to me while I'm standing up.

He simply shrugged, giving her a lustful smile of his own. She eyed the crotch of his sweats, which were tenting upward with his erection. Slowly, deliberately, he pulled them down, baring his six inches of turgid flesh for her. He stroked it absently, running his hands up and down while he waited for her to make the next move.

He didn't have to wait long. She straddled his lap and grasped him in her hands, running the head of his cock through her slippery lips, wetting it thoroughly. She then moved it backwards, until it was against the same orifice he had just had his thumb in.

"You like to ass-fuck?" she asked him, licking at his lips with her tongue. "Is that what you like?"

"It's okay," he said with feigned nonchalance and a slight shrug.

She smiled. "Okay? Is that what it is?"

"Yeah," he said, kissing back.

She sat down upon him, squirming a little, until the head of his cock slid into her ass. She then inched herself downward, engulfing him in her tight rectum. He moaned his approval at this action while she began to raise and lower herself, letting him go almost completely out and then slamming back down once more. Her hand began to play with her pussy as she did this, both increasing her pleasure and keeping his hardness lubricated within her. He kissed her neck, her face, her ears, tasting her salty sweat on his tongue as she squeezed and released him, over and over.

"You like to fuck my ass, don't you?" she whispered into his ear, biting at the lobe.

"Yesssss," he grunted, feeling his own hips acquiring the rhythm.

She managed to rub herself to another orgasm as their bodies pushed into each other. The almost painful contraction of her muscles against his cock triggered his own spasms. With a loud groan and a clenching of her body to his, he shot his load into her bowels, emptying himself.

They kissed each other tenderly afterward for a few moments, enjoying the closeness as his hardness wilted within her. Finally she stood, pulling herself free. "Wow," she said, kissing his forehead. "That wasn't bad."

He shrugged, giving her a smile. "Yeah," he said, nodding. "It was all right."

They took a shower together a few minutes later. For anyone who has done such a thing, they can relate to the fact that it is impossible for both parties in a mutual shower to cleanse themselves at the same time. There simply is not enough spray. As a gentlemen he let Terry go first, standing behind her as she soaped her alluring body and washed her hair. He let his hands move over her slippery mammaries, making her nipples and his own cock erect in the process.

"You're going to be doing me again if you don't stop it," she warned, pushing her chest into his palms.

He didn't stop. He simply continued his caress while pushing his newly erect dick into the junction of her thighs.