The Tale of Roland
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2012 by jj76

Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Rolly Walters doesn't want to act like a hero, but he hasn't been laid since turning his back on the military. More often than not he has girl trouble ranging from his caretaker who doesn't know how to be sexy, damsels who don't like him, a girlfriend who doesn't like damsels, and a little sister who wants to tag along. A story in the Damsels in Distress Universe, where the bad guys get cold steel and the good guy gets hot sex.

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Consensual   Science Fiction   Incest   Brother   Sister   Spanking   White Male   Hispanic Female   First   Pregnancy   Cream Pie   Science fiction adult story, sci-fi adult story, science-fiction sex story, sci-fi sex story

The wild looking man with feathers in his scruffy beard and cow shit on his boots appeared without grace in the sterile white room. His flailing arms did nothing to slow his backward momentum and he ended up falling on his ass just before his head hit the floor with a thud.

"Son of a bitch mother fuck that hurts!"

The dazed man slowly rolled to his knees and opened his eyes while he rubbed the back of his head. As soon as his mind cleared he took in his surroundings and got as mad as an upside down alley cat.

"I told you fucking bastards I was out. Leave me alone or I'll cut your fucking balls off."

After looking around he noticed that there was no door or obvious source for the light. He was in a room-sized white box, which didn't help his attitude.

"Fuck this shit!" he said, as he sat back against the wall and started picking feathers out off his hair and beard.

After he had been settled into position for some time and was starting to doze off from boredom, doorways appeared on opposite walls and troops flooded in holding assault weapons. 'Flooded' might be an exaggeration since no more than two soldiers on either side could fit into the small room. Whatever the action could be called, the end result was that Rolly Walters found himself looking up at the barrels of guns.

A serious looking woman came in behind the guards and said, "Who are you?"

"Fuck you."

The woman was not amused and stared at him with hard eyes.

He relented.

"Roland J. Walters, private citizen, permanently retired, discharged, flown the coop, absent with leave. As if you didn't know. Who the fuck are you?"

The woman exited the room leaving Rolly to contemplate his new situation.

She returned forty-five minutes later with another woman in tow.

"You can get up now," she said. "You are Weapons Sergeant Roland Walters, Special Forces, US Army; Honorably Discharged April 12, 2010. Two tours in Afghanistan, awarded two bronze stars and a purple heart. Correct?"

"What of it?" he said as he got up. "Cut yourself while shaving the lice off your balls and they throw a ribbon at you. You want to see the scar?"

He went for his zipper only to find that it was gone and his pants were starting to slide down. "Hey, what the fuck did my pants ever do to you?"

"Sorry, metal doesn't go through the portals," the woman said, with a smirk on her face. "How did you access the portal?"

"What portal? Your goons jacked me in my barn."

"What goons? What exactly happened to you? You are not supposed to be here."

"I was in my barn going through some old stuff, and the next thing I know a chicken flies in my face, I'm tazered, and I'm thrown into your white box."

"What old stuff?"

"My great aunt passed away and I got her farm. I was going through the stuff in an old cabinet. There were some notebooks, and a little box that I was trying to get open when the chicken erupted."

"What was in the box?"

"I don't know. I didn't get it opened; I put it in my pocket."

"Let me see it."

After looking at the gun muzzles for a second Rolly pulled the box out of his shirt pocket and handed it to the woman. She looked at it, gave it a series of twists and it opened to reveal a sapphire pendent on a chain.

"What was your aunt's name?"

"Mary Miller."

"Wife of Rodney Miller?"

"Yes."

"Please answer the following questions with a 'yes, ' regardless of the correct answer. It will enable us to judge the truthfulness of what you have told us so far."

"Are you Roland Walters?"

"Yes."

"Are you male?"

"Yes."

"Do you own chickens?"

"Yes."

"Are you a woman?"

"Yes."

"Do you know of the planet Cassandra?"

"Yes."

"Are you currently involved in any secret activities?"

"Yes."

"Is your zipper missing?"

"Yes."

She looked at the ceiling and said, "Results of analysis."

A piece of paper materialized in her hand.

After looking at the paper she said, "It appears that you are telling us the truth, which makes this situation slightly less serious." Nodding to the guards she said, "You can go now."

"Roland, please follow me and we will see about getting you home."

Rolly followed her out one of the doorways to a waiting room that had a desk and several chairs. Please have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Yes, a soda please, but before that, would you show me to a bathroom?"

"Of course, through that door over there. Would a cola be ok?"

"That would be fine, thank you."

When Rolly returned, the second woman spoke for the first time.

Roland Walters, I am Abigail Hero Greeter and this is Helen Security Chief. You have accidentally transported yourself to Crossroads using your great uncle's sapphire and portal. Our records indicate that your great uncle became inactive after September of 1967. Can you tell us anything about him?"

"I didn't know him very well. About all I can remember is that he fought in the Korean War and walked with a cane due to a farm accident. A tractor rolled over on him. His son was a Marine and was killed in a training accident in 1986. Uncle Rod died in 2001. What's this about a portal? Was Uncle Rod a spook?

"A spook?"

"CIA, black-ops. Mom always said he was a little different."

"No, Crossroads is an off-world transfer station between Earth and two other planets."

"Pull the other one. I've seen better illusions in Vegas."

"I'm sorry, I forgot your drink -- 'table' -- 'cola.'"

The appearance of the end table followed by the glass of soda made Rolly jump.

Impressed by the materialization, Rolly said, "OK then, what was Uncle Rod doing with a portal to another planet?"

"He was needed to help the population of the planet Cassandra."

"What did they need? Some corn? Soybeans?"

"No, but they did need seed. Planet Cassandra suffered genetic damage due to a nuclear misunderstanding."

"Nuclear misunderstanding!?"

When Mewor traders approached planet Cassandra for the first time it was while a war was underway. The Mewor ships were fired upon by both sides. The Mewor technology was such that they were shielded from the nuclear blasts, but the fallout affected the population and especially damaged genes on Y chromosomes."

"That was stupid, so the Cassandrians shot themselves in the balls."

"Yes, we did."

"We?"

"Yes, all of the women you see on Crossroads are from Cassandra."

"But you look human. Another illusion?"

"No, like the population on planet Chaos, it appears that we were seeded from Earth sometime in the distant past. There is nothing in our official history about it, but based on genetic compatibility, it is likely."

"So ... back to Uncle Rodney."

"An alliance of spacefaring races are helping reinvigorate Cassandrian genetics using DNA from Earth. Earth men mated to Cassandra women. Selection of partners takes the form of a deadly activity where both must willingly risk their lives in order to mate."

"That's fucked up. Why don't they just pass a physical and draw names out of a hat?"

"There are some physiological reasons, and the organizing civilizations determined that this strategy would prevent social upheaval on Cassandra. It also selects for better genes. It seems to work."

"So -- what is this 'activity?'"

"Women who are chosen by lottery are transported to the planet Chaos, where sooner or later they find themselves in peril, mainly because Chaos is nearly lawless and the women of Cassandra have a pheromone that affects men of certain genotypes on Chaos. The quality seems to affect men with violent tendencies more strongly than others. Heroes from Earth must save the women. The couples then spend time back here on Crossroads until the woman becomes pregnant. Your uncle Rodney was one of our heroes."

"One of your studs -- where did he find time, and how did he hide it from Aunt Mary?"

"Temporal manipulation. Time away from Earth is only fifteen minutes no matter how long the period spent on Crossroads or Chaos. I don't know if your aunt knew, most wives do because of the inherent honesty of the heroes. The portals will only let men of heroic character pass -- or that is what we thought."

"That is what you thought?"

"One of the heroes went bad and has been causing problems, which is why security is so tight."

"How bad?"

"Attempted world domination."

"Hence my welcoming committee. What now? You call me a cab and take away my toy?"

"That is one option"

"What's the other option, bullet in the brain pan?"

"You could help us."

"Same difference. So you are spooks trying to get me to do your dirty work again. You want me to help take out your supervillain of the month. No thanks. Not if you promised me all the gold in Fort Knox and all the pussy in Bangkok. You'd leave my ass hanging in the wind, just like last time."

"That's not what I mean. We have people addressing that problem, but it leaves us short of heroes for the damsels."

"So, you need more studs, I could probably spare fifteen minutes, but it won't be much fun being rushed like that."

"We need more heroes to save the distressed damsels down on Chaos in order to keep the birthrate up on Cassandra. You would get several weeks of luxury living with the damsel after she is rescued."

"Why can't you just send 'em over to my place for booty calls? It would be more efficient."

"That wouldn't work. The women need the stress of the danger, followed by a hypermasculine presence to enhance their reproductive hormone output. In addition to the reproductive aspects are the psychological aspects. Cassandra women are highly sexed to start with, and during their receptive period after the rescue they require close contact with the hero."

"Or what?"

"Their experience wouldn't be fulfilling enough for others to want to risk their lives. They don't just volunteer to have a baby, they also do it for the sexual pleasure. Their reward is several weeks of multiple orgasms that they can treasure for the rest of their lives. When they get back to Cassandra they are celebrities. Many of them write books about their experience, and at the very least they go on talk shows to tell all. Most of the talk is usually about the sex."

"Shit, I'm good in bed, but not that good."

"You'd be surprised. Female Cassandrian physiology is geared towards reluctant males that ejaculate quickly, often after a single insertion. A man that can be ridden for a full minute is exceptional, so women are sensitive to orgasm. What do you mean you're 'good in bed?'"

"I'm good in bed. I like women and they like me."

"Covered in chicken droppings and looking like a hairy unwashed vagabond?"

"I clean up good when I need to. I was doing undercover intelligence work for the Army when my time ran out, since then I've been busy with the farm and there are not many women out in the sticks to clean up for, so I haven't bothered. And that's cow shit on my boots, not chicken shit."

Abigail Hero Greeter pointed to a big white blob on Rolly's shoulder.

"God Damn it. Nasty fucking shit factories!" Rolly exclaimed.

Abigail looked down at her notes. "It says here that your father died when you were sixteen, and you have two younger sisters still on the farm, is that correct?"

"Yes, my oldest sister just got married. They are helping out on Mom's farm. You keep your people away from my sisters. They've had a hard enough time."

"It also says here that you were an Army Ranger, and were loaned out to work for outside agencies.

"Outside back stabbing bloody bastards. That's classified by the way."

"Not for us."

"How so?"

"You're on another planet with a computer that can manipulate time and make refreshments materialize."

"Point taken."

"I see here in your file a picture of you in uniform without the hair and beard. Impressive."

"I'm not a fan of the sheared look, but it's better than a head full of Army lice."

"It says here, 'Purple heart for groin injury sustained during combat.' Is there any significant damage?"

"No, just a nick that bled a lot, six stitches."

"Maybe I better take a look -- just to make sure."

"Knock yourself out."

Rolly dropped his pants, and just to be an asshole, he jerked his cock a couple of times to make it hard.

"Oh My!"

"Did you just come?"

"A little. -- So Roland, here's the deal. You'll get to do what you obviously liked doing before you were loaned out. Here there are no hidden agendas. You will be in charge of your operations. You would rescue beautiful women from villains and afterwards live in luxury with unlimited sex until they become pregnant."

"How beautiful?"

"I'm considered average looking on Cassandra for a woman my age, and I'm well past the age to be a damsel."

"You're a hell of good looking MILF by Earth standards. If I weren't covered in chicken shit I'd try to make your panties drip."

"I think we had better move on."

"What are the rules of engagement?"

"You must act in a heroic manner."

"Fuck that shit. I'm not going to let some scumbag shoot first."

"It's not that bad. Once the bad guys show intent to do harm you are free to engage in combat. You just can't use poisons, cause unnecessary pain, walk up behind them and slit their throats before they even know you exist -- things like that. You also cannot do things like set unattended traps or engage in other activities that could harm innocents. You are free to harm or kill anyone who directly threatens you."

"So, if I come upon a deaf pedophile serial killer who is in the process of raping and strangling a little girl I can't just put an arrow into his back, I have to act heroically, make my presence known, and be threatened. Before I can get his attention the girl is going to be dead. Pretty fucking heroic."

"Let me check."

Abigail Hero Greeter looked up and asked for a clarification to the rules of engagement. She read the paper that appeared in front of her.

"You are free to engage anyone who has intent to cause bodily harm to an innocent."

"What if the guy about to be killed isn't an innocent, but he could be useful to me. Let's say one bad guy is about to kill another bad guy, but I need information from the one about to be killed?"

Again she looked up and asked for a ruling.

"It says that ambiguous cases will be reviewed and ruled upon after the hero's return."

"That is acceptable. What weapons are available to the bad guys?"

"Bare hands up to swords. Medieval technology, no gun powder."

"I don't know how to use a sword."

"Most street thugs carry clubs or knives. Those are the Saturday night specials of Chaos. You pick your own missions, so you can avoid situations out of your depth. Most dead heroes failed in that regard."

"Dumbass arrogant adrenalin junkies. I know the type. What are my options for weapons?"

"You teleport in with a simple set of clothes on your back, and you must earn or win your weapons. After a victory you keep what the other man had and can use it on following missions."

"Seems like a lot of trouble for a piece of pussy."

"Heroes generally don't do it for that. It is the icing on the cake, so to speak."

"Dumbass adrenalin junkies."

"So, do you think you might want to help us out?"

"I'll think about it. I almost sweet-talked one of the neighbor's nanny goats last week, and shoveling cow shit is getting old."

"OK. I guess it's time to go. The shock you felt this time through was from our security system. We'll put your portal on the active list so that it won't happen again. The transfer is activated by having a sapphire of a certain size on your person. Most heroes wear it as a ring, but some think a ring is a good way to get your finger cut off when you're not looking. That is probably why your uncle had his on a chain. Just walk through the portal frame, which in your case seems to be your old cabinet. Here are the pertinent rule books. Your first meeting as a hero candidate will be an orientation. You can choose whether or not you want to participate at that time. I'll walk you back to the portal."

"Is this whole place so 'white?'"

"No, the hero suites and administrative offices are decorated to personal taste. Here we are, just step into that alcove and you will step out back in Kansas."


As soon as Rolly Walters passed through the portal, Helen Security Chief left and Abigail Hero Greeter was summoned to the office of Martina Supervisor.

"Abigail, what are your thoughts on Roland? I know that we are desperate for heroes, but he definitely doesn't have a heroic attitude, and he doesn't look or smell any better than the roughest types on Chaos. I don't know if damsels will want to be rescued by that creature."

"I was able to look at his expanded dossier before interviewing him and I think he will do fine."

"How so?"

"That 'creature' was voted most popular by his high school, and while in service to his country he volunteered for five dangerous extraction missions, the first two of which became messy enough that he was awarded bronze stars for valor."

"What about his injury?"

"Most definitely not a problem."


Rolly Walters spent the first week after his return from Crossroads going through the rule books and his great uncle's notebooks. Most of the notebooks were journals chronicling Rodney's twenty-three adventures. One was written at a later date and was a guide to Chaos. It described everything from money and customs to the mindset of the people. Included in it were successful tactics, as well as pitfalls to look out for such as weaknesses in what he called his "support staff."

Rolly also asked his mother if any letter had been left to him by his great aunt. That sparked his mother to remember something that arrived for him shortly after her funeral. The letter told him where to find the key to the cabinet, and how to open the pendant box. It also asked him to get word to Miko Caretaker and tell her of Rodney's fate.

The second week found Rolly taking long runs and contemplating whether or not he wanted to become a hero. He didn't feel the need for any violent altercations, and he kept saying to himself that the stupid bitch damn damsels deserved what they got for willingly putting themselves in harm's way. But at the end of the day he was horny, and he could almost smell Abigail's perfume as he pictured her drooling over his cock. The serious looking security chief was also damn fine looking for an older woman.

He thought to himself that it was too bad that most of the local talent had gotten married or moved away while he was in the service.

Week three found Rolly walking through his portal on a Sunday morning. This time his wait in the white room was only a few minutes before Abigail Hero Greeter came in.

"Welcome back, Hero Roland"

"Thank you."

"What type of clothing is that, I'm not familiar with it?"

"T-shirt, sweat pants, and flip-flops. No metal. Where do we start?"

First we find you a caretaker, and then my job is done. She will take care of all your needs while you are here on Crossroads. You will be dependent on her for your physical comfort as well as any of the background information you need for mission planning. While you are between missions her job is to review the current status of the available damsels on Chaos and rank them as to your skill level, wants, and needs."

"Wants and needs?"

"Yes, for example if you need to significantly increase your wealth on Chaos she can lead you towards missions where that is more likely to happen. If you want the challenge of fighting against a man skilled in using a staff vs. a simple club, that can be taken into consideration. You do not get to see a picture of the damsel until the mission is accepted, so you can't choose missions just because you prefer redheads."

"Women tend to be fickle. What's to keep her from screwing me over on a whim? We have a saying on Earth, 'Hell hath no fury as a woman scorned.'"

"Like you, she needs to teleport to Crossroads, and that is not possible if she is not pure of heart. Because you are a hero and she is a Cassandrian woman, a strong emotional bond usually develops rather quickly. Additionally, her status on Cassandra is dependent on your success. The job of caretaker is envied by nearly all Cassandrian women, so the caretaker first and foremost wants to keep you alive. That is not to say all caretakers are created equal, so choose wisely. Here are the files for the three available caretakers; Brenda, Milana, and Susan."

Brenda was a lawyer with degrees in political science and history. Under hobbies she listed that she was well versed in martial arts and medieval weaponry. Her picture could have been straight out of Playboy, airbrushed and all. Brenda was a brunette goddess.

"What's with the cheesecake pictures?"

"Cassandrian women are highly sexed, so caretakers are eager to please a virile man."

"And this is what the damsels will look like?"

"Caretaker applications tend to be from the high end, but attractiveness is also a part of damsel screening."

Second was Milana, who was a divorced housewife with a degree in geography. Interests and hobbies included serving as president of a local Damsel Support Society Chapter.

"I'm surprised to see a housewife here, I thought on Cassandrian women were the breadwinners, and what's a Damsel Support Society?"

"Yes, generally that is true, but as on Earth, there are several reasons. For instance, her husband may have been from a rich family, so she may not have needed to work. The DSS keeps track of current and past damsels. It's like a fan club."

The picture was of a curvy strawberry blond that made Rolly's mouth water.

"Little Rolly likes her, but I think I'll put her behind Brenda."

The third file seemed to have the strongest candidate, but several things about it bothered Rolly. Susan listed no occupation and no educational degrees. However, under education it stated: Author: Hero Activities on Chaos -- A two hundred year history including case studies. Pp. 462. Senior Honors Thesis. Author: Statistical Analysis of Hero Deaths and Causality. Pp. 173. Her listed hobbies were music, reading, and horseback riding.

On top of the apathetic tone to the resume were her pictures. They looked like something a doctor would take; nude front, back, and profile, with a blank look on her face for each. The parts were there for an attractive young woman with light blonde hair, but you had to use a little imagination to get turned on.

Rolly asked Abigail what she thought about the file. Abagail said that she had not heard of the publications before, and the file was new. The others had been passed on once each by other heroes.

Rolly felt more than a little uneasy when he gave the go-ahead for Susan.

Abigail took the folders from the room, returned shortly, and said that it would be about 45 minutes before Susan could arrive.

Rolly said, "That seems really fast."

"No, just the opposite. New caretakers usually arrive within a few minutes. They are teleported in from Cassandra with a temporal shift. That gives them time to prepare. The delay must mean Susan is already here for some reason."

Roland sat around in the bland environment waiting for his caretaker for over an hour before a shy looking girl entered the room and said, "Hello, I'm Susan Caretaker, I'm sorry I'm late."

After a brief greeting to Susan, Abigail Hero Greeter said her goodbyes and left without introducing the two.

Rolly was not enthused about his situation. He had hoped that clothing and a pulse would be an improvement on the pictures. Susan seemed to be much too young for such an important job, and she was dressed nicely but without a hint of sex appeal. She reminded him of his sisters sitting in Sunday church service.

"I'm sorry, but there must be some mistake. You resemble the picture in the file, but you don't look old enough to have written a college senior thesis.

"I'm not, that was my high school thesis. I just finished it last month, right before graduation. I've been working here ever since."

"My God, how old are you?"

"I just turned eighteen."

"And this is your summer internship, so you decided you wanted to be a caretaker? -- I'm so fucked."

"No, I was hired as a consultant to help revamp the system, but they felt that hands-on experience as a caretaker would help my viewpoint. I'm sorry, but I haven't had a chance to look over your file yet, what is your name?"

"Roland Walters."

"Oh."

"OH?"

"Please give me a few minutes to review the file."

"Knock yourself out, kid."

The young woman left and returned ten minutes later with the file and a notebook.

"I now understand why they gave you to me. You are not expected to be around long, so I'll get the experience they want me to have, and then I'll be free for consulting."

"Shit, shit, shit! -- Hey, what do you mean 'gave me to you.' I was the one who picked you."

"Technically, but there was a good chance that my qualifications would be superior to anyone else's, so they picked which hero would be the first to see my file."

"And why don't they think I'm going to be around long. Are they going to make sure I get killed off?"

"No, I believe that they think your attitude will cause problems. They anticipate that you will do a non-heroic act that will leave you stranded, either on Chaos or on Earth. There is also a note about your appearance possibly causing problems for the damsels."

"And what do you think?"

"They are jaded by the personalities of heroes from the classic age. I think I can work with you."

"What do you think of my appearance?"

"I think that you have a plan, or I hope that you do."

"Smart kid, let's get started. I went over Uncle Rodney's notes, and at some point I would like to review the files of the last twenty heroes that died within their first five missions. I want to look for shared flaws."

Susan immediately said, "The main flaws were arrogance, ignorance, and indecision." She then looked up and said, "Please access files for..." and proceeded to list twenty names. Shortly thereafter a pile of folders appeared on the stark white table next to them.

"Is there someplace more comfortable that we could go to work?" Rolly asked.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot that I'm supposed to get a suite ready for you -- I mean us -- I mean you."

She blushed as she fumbled her words.

The next three days were a mix of efficiency and inefficiency. Susan provided most facts and figures off the top of her head, but she was inept about social niceties and personal comforts. Rolly's suite remained looking like a white motel room, meals were rather plain, and he was not sure where Susan lived. He assumed that because she had been working on Crossroads as a consultant and left him at night, that she had her own room nearby.

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