Chapter 1

"Oh, yes, baby, yes! That's it!" moaned the thick-lipped blond woman. "Oh, yes, baby, yes, yes."

Nils watched his magnificent cock plunging in and out of puffy red labia belonging to the woman that lay across the brightly-lit billiard table in front of him. It was almost time for him to cum. Strange, his mind always seemed to wander about now.

"Oh, baby... yes, yes, give it to me, baby... fuck that hole... ahhh, ahhhhhh," cried the blond. A grimace seemed permanently etched on her face.

Nils increased the speed and force of his muscular, naked hips. His moist dick furiously penetrated the cleanly shaved pussy beneath him.

"Funny," thought Nils, "her boobs barely move when I stroke it into her. Must have a load of silicone in those!"

"Oh, fuck me, fuck me hard," the blond yelled. "Oh, yes, tear me open, yes, yeeeeees..."

Nils felt the familiar tension of his climax building within him. Not yet, wait for the cue, he thought. He allowed his mind to wander. "You have come a long way from that farm in Minnesota, Nils," he mused to himself. "You and it--your amazing cock. Well, now it is time to put that thing away and move on."

Nils Olson's tiny hometown with its deep Swedish roots indeed was far away in time and space. Tall, blond, athletic Nils had been the darling of that community. People said he had it all--good looks, charm, athletic ability. They said that he would make it big. But, Nils also had one large cross to bear-an abnormally large penis. That penis brought Nils considerable attention and ample trouble during his high school days. Such attention only increased when he moved to California to seek his fortune in the movie industry.

"Yes, oh baby, I'm gonna cum." The blond writhed beneath him. She grasped the pool table's side rails and flailed her long, stringy hair about. "Give me that big cock... yes, yeeeeeeees..."

My package, they called it, reflected Nils. They all want to see my package. My famous package. My gift. My union card.

A single drop of sweat dripped off the end of Nils' nose. It seemed to fall downward in slow motion. Nils watched it splatter on the blonde's taut, tanned stomach. A small rivulet made its way past a gold piercing ring and into her navel. Nils watched the droplet in rapt fascination.

A whisper brought him out of his trance. "Whenever your ready, Tommy," rasped a male voice from nearby.

Nils increased his pace and his concentration. A familiar fullness swelled deep within his balls. He had done this so often that he could almost sense the precise amount of jism that was about to spurt from his cock. The whir of numerous auto-advance cameras began to buzz in his ears.

"Yes, baby... Ooooooh, yeeeeees! I want your cum, baby!" The blond seemed to be nearing ecstasy. Her moans grew louder and louder.

At the last possible moment, Nils withdrew from the blonde's well-worn cunt and blasted cum all the way from her crotch to her neck. She grasped his cock with fingers tipped by impossibly long, red fingernails and expertly milked the last drops of cum from him. On a single fingertip, she brought a large glob of his semen to her lips.

"Mmmmmm," she sighed. Again cameras whined and whirred.

"Cut," shouted the voice. "That's a wrap. Thanks everyone."

Suddenly the blond was gone.

"Anyone interested in going out for Chinese," she said as she walked naked across the cheap movie set. "I'm starving."

Nils stood immobile leaning against the pool table and staring down at his glistening penis. Sweat poured from his forehead and dripped off his nose and chin.

No more, he thought. No more fucking on cue. No more films with cheesy titles starring the famous "Tommy Tool." God, how I hate that name. Well, ladies and gentlemen, famous porn star, Tommy Tool, and alter ego, Nils Olson, are about to disappear from sight... along with this cock.

Nils gave his long dick as shake. One last drop of cum splattered on the green felt. Nils broke into a smile.

"Adios, motherfuckers," he said aloud to no one in particular.

Outside, a train rumbled its way to the suburbs causing the entire wall of Jefferson Kennedy "Spider" Dampeer's tiny apartment to shake in sympathetic vibration. Jefferson carefully packed his precious guitar in its travel worn case. The case's faux fur fabric smelled like stale cigarettes and very old beer. Actually, everything Jefferson owned smelled like that. He had spent most of his fifty years playing in clubs and bars that shared the same fetidness.

"They said you could bring only three suitcases of personal belongings, Spider, my man," Jefferson Dampeer said to himself. "But, everything you own fits in one!" He laughed aloud.

Jazz music--Spider Dampeer lived and breathed it. Players, like Charlie Christian and Herb Ellis, were his heroes. He, like so many others in the city, played to live and lived to play. As a result, the paychecks were few and small and the odd jobs were many and difficult.

Jefferson had acquired the nickname, "Spider," because of his wiry physique and his long, thin, black fingers that seemed to crawl effortlessly over the neck of his guitar when he played. And, play he did. His music was his only joy in life. The sadnesses, on the other hand, were all too numerous.

The windows and walls rattled as another elevated train rumbled its way past his flat. On impulse, Spider carefully opened a well-worn letter and reread it once more just to be sure he had not imagined its contents.

"CONGRATULATIONS. Your application to participate in the UTOPIA PROJECT has been accepted. We appreciate your willingness to participate in this yearlong human experiment in living within a self-contained environment. The findings of this study will enable us to prepare for future scientific endeavors, including long-term habitation of outer space or other planets. You have been selected because of your unique personality traits and broad array of skills. The bank account containing the salary that you will enjoy at year's end already has been set up and your money is drawing interest. We look forward to your arrival at Lennox Laboratories, the site of the Utopia Project, on Monday, September 1."

Spider carefully folded the letter, placed it among the sundry contracts and legal documents that had accompanied it, and tucked them all in his guitar case.

"Not bad for an old, worn out, black jazz musician who grew up in the projects," he thought. "One short year of hanging out, then I'll have enough money to start thinking about retirement... from working, that is."

Spider's face broke into a wide smile as he stared out the window at the familiar cityscape of skyscrapers and lights.

Deb Jones dumped another load of frozen chicken tenders into hot oil. She had received a letter just like Spider Dampeer's. A newspaper advertisement that promised a year of living in what sounded like the Garden of Eden had grabbed her attention, as did the very high salary for being the subject of a "demanding psychological study." She was troubled by the notion that scientists would observe her "behavior," but on a whim, she applied anyway. She had almost forgotten about the application when the letter from Lennox Laboratories, her ticket out of the short-order cook business, appeared in her mailbox. Since then, she had quietly prepared for this adventure and tomorrow she was scheduled to depart. But, tonight the hot fryer required one last piece of her soul.

Deb stared out the grime-covered window above the fryer, watching the foot-traffic pass by. Everyone had places to go. Well, she was going to go somewhere too. She brushed a damp tendril of hair off her face as the steam rose from the broaster oven.

If I never see another french fry in my entire life, I'll die happy, she thought.

Moving from one task to another was automatic as she tossed another of the endless handfuls of fries into the basket and put them down to cook. She checked the clock. Three more hours and she would be leaving this place for good. The oldies piped through the speakers boasting fun in the sun only reminded her of the heat and the sweat that was running down between her breasts. She plucked at the sticky fabric and blew a little breeze into her cleavage.

Moving around the kitchen she let her mind wander again. All of the arrangements had been made. What she was going to miss most about leaving this job were the people. Unexpectedly, Marshall's image passed into her thoughts. She saw his broad shoulders and the well-muscled arms that had held her tight. His eyes wrinkled at the edges when he smiled, which he did often. She swallowed hard and blinked back the threatening tears. She was not going to cry again.

"You're going out with us tonight, right Deb?"

Deb looked over her shoulder at Cindie. The girl looked perfect; not a hair out of place. Her baby blue eyes were so clear they actually twinkled. She was the perfect, perky Barbie; always happy and without a care in the world. Deb felt like she was the complete opposite.

"Oh, I'm not too sure," she hedged.

Cindie pouted, her full lips pursing. "Come on. Please? You have to. It's your last day here."

Deb rolled her eyes, knowing Cindie, for all her fluff, was not a pushover. Finally, Deb conceded. "Alright, but only for a little while. I have to go home and shower first."

Cindie jumped up and down, her ponytail bouncing in the air behind her. "Oh, goody. We'll meet you at The Bar. I've got something special planned."

"No, Cindie! I'm not going out so that you can set me up with another one of your friends. You know how the last one turned out." She turned, added the chicken to the basket next to the fries and placed it in the pick-up window.

"Okay, okay," Cindie held up her hands. She turned quickly to deliver the order.

That answer was a little too quick, Deb thought. Something's up and I don't like it. She checked the clock again. Two hours and fifty-three minutes to go.

In secluded woods away from the city's hustle bustle, Dr. Hiram Rosen sat staring at the television screens, dials, and computers in the Lennox Laboratory control room. Ten years of fund-raising and building had preceded this night. Hiram knew that he would not be able to sleep at all. Too much adrenaline coursed through his veins. He absentmindedly moved the camera controls and scanned around the interior of his baby--Utopia, a completely self-contained environment. Everything was in place, except for one final ingredient--the people.

The usual Sunday night crowd was settling in at The Bar. Cindie and Deb sat across from each other in their regular booth. Across the room, Marshall waited for the bartender to top off a pitcher of dark beer.

"I do believe that man over there is trying to look up my little ole skirt," whispered Cindie. "Do you think I should make his night, you know, give him a little flash?"

"God, you are naughty, Cindie Vitek! You'll give that old fart a heart attack." Deb laughed as she tried to focus on the man in question by using the stained mirror on the far wall.

Cindie's giggled and glanced down at her short black skirt. This skirt got her double the tips of the other waitresses at the café. She felt a familiar twinge between her legs. The thought of someone watching always got her excited. She allowed her legs to move apart for a moment and then feigned modesty with a tug on the hem of her skirt. Instantly the man's eyes focussed on her knees. Without warning, Cindie spread her legs completely apart as she slid over in the booth. Deb watched the man's eyes bulge. His mouth dropped open, and--he dropped his cigarette into his lap. Bright sparks flew everywhere.

"Gotcha!" smiled Cindie. There was a moment of silence, and then she and Deb burst into gales of laughter.

Through her tears, Deb choked, "He must have really liked seeing your panties, Cindie dear!"

"What panties?" whispered Cindie with sly grin.

It was Deb's turn to have her jaw drop in disbelief. Before she could utter a word, Marshall arrived with the beer. He snuggled into the booth beside Deb, his hand landing gently on her thigh. Normally, she would have moved or done something about such an unwelcome touch, but tonight was different. Tonight she needed some reassurance and strength... and someone to touch her... someone to hold her.

"I told you I had something special planned tonight," Cindie announced holding her beer glass aloft, "but first a toast to my friend, Deb, who is about do the weirdest fucking thing I ever heard of. Here's to the guinea pig. May you have a great year in Utopia, whatever that is."

Marshall chimed in. "It's hard for me to drink to that, but... well, ok... here, here." He had been noticeably quiet tonight. No more than two sentences had emerged from him since he walked in the place.

Cindie wiped the foam from her upper lip, giggled, and continued, "When I first heard that Deb was leaving us... to become someone's science fair project, no less... that's what she'll be, you know... a fucking experiment... I was worried about her. So, I checked on this Lennox Lab place and did a little homework. I found out that this Utopia Project sounded pretty damn good, so," she raised her glass again, "since Deb and I have been partners in the... ah... food service industry for almost three years now... right, Deb... great partners..."

Deb nodded. She wrinkled her forehead and stared at Cindie. Despite what Cindie had promised, she had expected Cindie to introduce her to yet another "friend," guys that had several things in common. They always were younger than Deb. They always were chauvinists who called her "Babe," or "Sugar," or worst, "Little Lady." And, they all expected at least a blowjob for an evening's company. Plus, they all were losers with a capital L. When instead Marshall showed up by surprise, however, Deb was confused.

"What is perky Cindie up to this time?" she wondered.

Cindie continued, "Well, the Utopia job sounded so good to me that..." Cindie reached in her purse and produced a letter just like Deb's. "That I applied myself! And, it looks like I'll be going in with you! Lab rats together!"

Deb sat speechless. She could not decide whether this was good or bad. She forced a weak smile. Listening to Cindie for an entire year could get v-e-r-y old.

Later that night Deb let Marshall make love to her. Their love life had been an on-again, off-again affair for a couple of years. Deb cried when Marshall came inside her. He was strong, caring, and gentle, but not exciting. And, as usual there was no orgasm for Deb. She couldn't remember her last one. But, he held her tenderly--she needed that--and told her for the first time that he loved her.

Now he says it, thought Deb. Now, when I'm leaving, the SOB finally says it. Damn, damn, damn. Well, you are too late now, you big ox.

Marshall cupped Deb's ample breast in his hand and gently touched her nipple. "When you are done with this craziness, I'll be waiting for you," he said. For the first time that evening, the little twinkle returned to his eye. And, a tear returned to Deb's.

"I'd like that," whispered Deb.

Bart Baird was the first to present his ID bracelet to the attractive woman at the heavy stainless steel door that led into Utopia. The woman in a white lab coat consulted her computer.

"Thank you Mr. Baird. Bart Baird, age 35, mechanic, farmer..." she mumbled to herself as she recorded his entry.

Bart walkedpast her and out onto the third floor deck at one end of what seemed to be a giant terrarium.

"Oooeee," he whistled. "This cost 'em some bucks."

Stretching out in front of him was a wonderland of tangled tropical plants, pathways, little creeks, and even a forest of tall trees. Birds flitted from the treetops up to the highest reaches of the structure, a giant mosaic of triangular glass windows. Each window had a shade that could be opened or closed to control the amount of sunlight and heat allowed into the enormous space. To his left was the origin of a beautiful waterfall that seemed to flow directly from a concrete ledge. Its clear, blue waters tumbled three stories down to a glistening pool below. From this spot he could see gardens growing, winding trails that disappeared here and there in the tall foliage, and, in the far distance, another set of concrete and steel platforms and balconies that formed the far end of the complex.

Spider Dampeer took his place beside Bart and leaned against the railing. "Mercy," he said. "What's a city boy like me doing in a place like this?"

"I don't know," replied Bart, "but, whatever it is, we're gonna be doing it for a long time. Name's Bart. Pleased to meet you."

Spider extended his hand. "Jefferson, call me 'Spider.' Do I remember from the orientation that you are our 'fix-it' man?"

"I guess so," said Bart with a shrug. "And, you are our... ?"

"I don't really know... token black man, maybe." Spider laughed heartily. "Test tube guitar player, maybe? Over the years, I've had lots of jobs too."

Another figure emerged from the entranceway and took her place a few yards down the railing.

"They said her name is Liz, I believe," whispered Bart. "Extraordinary ass."

"A sweet young thing too," mused Spider. "I would be remiss if I didn't note the magnificent rack on that tiny child. Mmm, Mmm. Locked up in here with her... for a year. The imagination boggles."

Liz Newman heard every word. Actually she didn't hear the words. She saw them. Liz had grown up with severe hearing problems, now solved to an extent by a couple of high tech hearing aids. But, as a child she had learned to read lips, even without staring directly at the speaker. She also was extremely shy and remarkably beautiful.

Liz blushed as she read the two men's lips. "Ass holes," she thought. "Even in here, I can't seem to get away from dirty old men." She turned her attention to the spectacle before her. "But, what a gorgeous place this is. Maybe I can just stand here and look for the whole year."

Liz sensed someone behind her and, by habit, turned to look.

"Your Liz, right? I'm Cindie."

"Yes. Nice to meet you," replied Liz courteously.

"You are a tiny, little thing, aren't you?" said Cindie looking Liz up and down. "No more than 80 pounds wringing wet, I'll bet... and very pretty... love your long dark hair... always thought I might do brunette some day." She shook her perfectly combed blond hair. It fell back into exactly the same place. "What do you think? (Long pause.) Naaaaah. I guess I have to stay natural." Cindie winked.

Liz blushed again under Cindie's barrage of words. "Thank you. You are very attractive too, Cindie. The company outfit suits you. Mine is a little small, I think."

Cindie glanced down at the tight, white jump suit that she had been issued. She smoothed her hands from beneath her breasts to her waist. "I can tell that I am going to get tired of seeing this suit on me." Then she looked at Liz with sparkling her blue eyes. The white material appeared to be painted on Liz's prodigious breasts. They appeared even bigger on her small petite frame. "I think you look really cute... and in that outfit, so will all the guys."

"I know... they already are staring," sighed Liz. Liz tried to be nonchalant, but her nipples betrayed her by becoming erect.

Just then a gold and brown butterfly landed on Liz's sleeve. "Oh, how beautiful!" Liz whispered. "I think I'll like this place a lot... in spite of the ogling."

"Honey, don't worry when they look. Worry when they stop looking," advised Cindie.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, if I could have your attention." A voice interrupted the revelry. "I am Dr. Hiram Rosen, director of the Utopia Project."

Six white-clad people turned toward the man in a lab coat.

"I hope you will like your new home. I believe that you already have received a packet of materials outlining your responsibilities. Basically, you will maintain your environment here. You will keep it in working order. You will be physically cut off from the outside world. No one will be allowed in or out. So, you will have to take care of yourselves. But, you won't be in complete isolation. Each of you will have e-mail and Internet access in your living quarters just as space travelers ultimately will have. Nevertheless, your main job is to interact with each other. We will observe you and will seek to learn how to ready space travelers for long periods of living together in small, contained spaces. And, how lovely this particular space is, don't you agree? Each of you has a small apartment... more like a conventional hotel suite on the second floors. Three of you will live on the north end; three on the south end. The common area for eating is on the ground floor of the north section; recreational areas and fitness rooms are in the south end. The top floors on both ends house electrical, heating, and cooling maintenance equipment... and, of course, these observation decks. You will have a great degree of control over that equipment, including the ability to make it rain periodically."

A murmur of amazement rose from the six participants.

"I know that you will be self-conscious about all the video cameras here and there at first. But, we think that, in time, you will cease to notice them. All of the instructions for operating the complex are in your instruction manuals. Any questions?"

"Are there cameras in our personal quarters, Doctor?" said Deb apprehensively.

"Yes," said Dr. Rosen quietly.

"Oh," muttered Deb with wide eyes.

Nils interrupted, "Our jobs... the ones listed in the manual... are pretty easy." He rubbed his newly created short, blond crew cut self-consciously as he spoke. The long blond tresses of Tommy Tool were a thing of the past. "Stuff like turning on the sprinklers... ah, the rain... cooking, picking veggies from the garden. Pretty minor work, it seems to me."

"We want you to have ample time for interaction," smiled the Doctor.

The first several days of confinement were filled with settling in and a host of routine chores. Everyone quickly became accustomed to his or her assigned roles. Nils had been correct. The living was very easy. Deb found herself in the kitchen again, but this time, it was filled with gourmet items and equipment, plus a computer with literally thousands of interesting and fun recipes to try. When she needed fresh fruit, vegetables, or herbs, she simply asked Bart to bring some in from the garden.

Dinnertime was filled with conversation. Everyone tried to get acquainted by sharing stories about their pasts. One thing became clear. They all came from humble backgrounds and grew up learning a variety of practical skills. The common sense lessons learned on the farm, in the city, in the machine shop, or in the kitchen were valuable here in Utopia.

And, cameras followed their every move.

Just finishing a bite of lovely green salad, Deb broached that subject for the first time with the group. "It's the camera in my bedroom that bothers me the most," she said. "No telling who might be looking in there. I have to go in the bathroom to get dressed, for crying out loud." She hoped that the good Dr. Rosen was listening right now.

"You haven't spotted the one in the bathroom yet?" asked Nils. "It's over the mirror."

"No shit?" exclaimed Cindie. "Maybe we don't have them in the girl's apartments. Maybe those cameras are only for counting how many times you guys jerk off... per day."

"Yeah, yeah," sneered Nils.

Liz blushed and looked down at her plate.

"I wonder what kind of 'interaction' they expect to see in the bathrooms," said Spider.

"Maybe that's where those voyeur photos come from that are all over the Internet," suggested Bart.

"Jeez, don't say that," screamed Deb, "or I'll have to hold it in for a year."

"Why were these subjects chosen, Dr. Rosen?" A representative from the project's funding agency was touring the facility under Dr. Rosen's watchful eye.

"Two reasons... they are ordinary citizens, just common people with a lot of common sense-type experience among them. We think that such should enable them to live comfortably. The other reason is that they all are trying to escape their own ordinary lives. We expect that the first groups of space settlers also will be people who are trying to run away from something on earth. That means that they all will bring extra personal psychological baggage with them. We want to know what problems that will cause. I think we have a fine set of subjects. You might note that they also are very diverse. They don't match up with each other at all. There are no logical romantic couples because they are of vastly different ages, backgrounds, and interests. We are not sure how they will react to each other long-term."

"What are your predictions, sir?"

"If they are like most human beings... once they have provided for the basic needs of shelter, food, and security... they will turn to the next entry on the human needs list... sex!"

Until lately the only time that Spider Dampeer had seen a sunrise was on the way home from a longer than usual jam session. The alcohol and weed dimmed his memories of those few moments in the early morning. Since coming to Utopia, however, he had been going to bed early because there wasn't much else to do. His body clock had reacted in a brand new way for him. He had begun becoming fully awake well before daylight. "This is absolutely abnormal for a jazz musician," thought Spider. "I hope the doctor is noting this in his behavior book."

Spider strolled out into the lush forest just down the stairway outside his door. His coffee cup was filled with streaming brew and he carried his WalkMan for listening to a little Lester Young. The birds were just awakening to another beautiful, exactly 72 degrees Fahrenheit day. Actually it was more like 82 degrees over in the tropical section of the building. He still hadn't figured out how they did that. Spider had come to really enjoy these quiet morning strolls.

Spider was fiddling with his WalkMan when he heard someone humming on the other side of some undergrowth. He pushed through a thick set of bushes and found himself overlooking a small pool that linked with the larger one under the waterfall. Liz Newman stood at the water's edge.

Spider was about to speak to her when she suddenly started unzipping her jumpsuit. The front of her suit opened slowly and her ample cleavage appeared. Spider gasped at the sight. The soft material slid off of her fair shoulders and two dark nipples appeared on the ends of her upturned breasts. Spider's eyes grew wider as recognition of what she was doing dawned on him. He stepped back seeking to hide in the bushes. His foot found a fallen twig and it cracked like a rifle shot under his weight.

"I'm caught now, " thought Spider. "How am I gonna explain this one? Its gonna be pretty embarrassing."

Liz did not turn around. Spider sighed with relief when he realized that she had not heard the breaking stick. He snuggled further back into the foliage and looked back at the figure in the blue pool. Plain white panties now unsuccessfully attempted to cover Liz's extraordinary body. "How could someone be so tiny, yet so well endowed," thought Spider.

Before Spider's prying eyes, Liz quickly removed her panties and tossed the dainty garment on her nearby pile of clothes. Feeling new freedom, the nubile young woman stretched her arms high over her head, yawned vigorously, and slowly made her way into the pool. She cupped water in her hands and tossed it over her muscular back. A river of water plunged down her body and converged in the crack of her firm ass. Spider felt his cock begin to harden. She splashed water on her fair skin as if she was trying to grow used to the cold water. Her diminutive body seemed even smaller in contrast to all the trees and vegetation surrounding her. Deep dimples in each cheek of her lovely ass winked at Spider as they slowly descended into the clear blue liquid.

Suddenly, Liz turned, arms outstretched, and fell backward. Birds overhead screeched in response to the splashing. She popped back up, not yet fully comfortable in the icy water, this time facing in Spider's direction. Her nipples immediately hardened into long protruding dark points perched on the ends of each full breast. Her aureoles were very dark against her fair skin. The even darker hair of her pubis was in sharp contrast to the milky whiteness of her abdomen and thighs. Liz splashed water on her face and threw back her long hair. With her tiny size, yet fully developed womanly features, she looked for the world like a porcelain doll that had been stripped of its clothes by a curious child. Spider watched in utter amazement. He began to stroke his cock through his clothing.

Liz made her way out of the water and found a large flat rock at the water's edge. The dense foliage shielded the rock in several directions, but it was in Spider's full view. Liz reclined on the rock and began to rub the wetness from her body. Her hands moved quickly over her magnificent breasts. She lay back enjoying the warmth of the rising sun on the rock. Spider watched as her hand crept down between her legs and found her waiting clitoris.