Action Jackson Ch. 01
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“Happy Birthday,” Andrew Jackson Howard, said to himself, staring at the reflection of his baby face in the back of a Jinteki company hover limousine. Surreptitiously, he ran a hand over his raging hard cock and sighed. Andrew swallowed ruefully, then rapped on the glass and motioned for the driver to drop him off in the middle of Broadcast Square at the heart of New Angeles. Instead of buildings, the square was surrounded by gleaming steel and glass monstrosities, festooned with larger than life video screens blaring all the latest ads, film trailers, and insipid reality shows, fully half of them showing off perfect celebrity fuckdolls with perfectly genetically remodeled faces and titties, courtesy of Jinteki. None of this was helping his rogue hardon.
Ground level was no better, full of glitzy shops and clubs, featuring even glitzier young women mostly dressed in sparkly barely there club dresses. New Angeles was located on the equator of former South America because the “Beanstalk” space elevator demanded that it be anchored there, in a messy new mixed country made up of the former Ecuador, Colombia, Peru, Brazil, and Bolivia. There was no better broadcast tower than the Beanstalk for the world’s biggest media conglomerate, NBN, so here Broadcast Square sat. At that moment, however, all these complex socioeconomic factors amounted to was a sea of exquisite Latin caramel colored asses on women who spoke little English but fluent thongback. Full breasts split shiny skintight tops, and snuck out of strapless dresses. Huge, tight asses overpowered microskirts with a dizzying array of slits and cutouts. Perfect doll-like faces with full lips and flawless pancake makeup belied the clumsy stratospheric heels that made the girls’ titties and booties shake and bounce, assuring that each of these sluts was fully down to fuck.
Indeed each of these fucktoys were all their over rich corporate boyfriends, clinging to them for support, both physical and economic. Being who he was, Andrew ignored all of the men. Slowly pushing through the crowd and rubbing up against any exposed female flesh he could, Andrew got stuck behind a busty slut with blue hair that matched her shiny green thong perfectly in the harsh light of the square. Instinctively, he seized her voluminous brown buttcheeks so hard that he accidentally buried his thumb up her butt, finally popping her strained tiny thong. Letting out an enraged shout, she turned and promptly stumbled over her own heels, knocking the little man into the gutter; she stood a good foot taller than him and he had tripped over her long legs. She leaned hard into her date for the night, who slipped a possessive arm under her shoulders. Seeing Andrew sprawled in the filthy rainwater, wearing a dorky old fashioned business suit, he laughed and grabbed the girl by the breast, sinking his fingers into the underside. “C’mon bitch,” he said, “I’ve paid enough for you to lose more than some disposable ass floor tonight, gutterslut.” She gulped and let him lead her off.
Keeping low, Andrew scurried off through the square towards the towering arcology he called home without further incident. “Happy Birthday, little man,” the doorman said, smashing his fingers into his brick red hair, almost mobil seks hikayeleri stopping him as he pushed through the entrance and slammed his back into the elevator, falling to the floor. “Happy Birthday, Master Howard,” the elevator chimed as it read his biometrics and smoothly shot up towards the penthouse. Tears welling up in his eyes, Andrew stood up to face a video feed through the window of a milfy brunette actress sashaying down a red carpet, her juicy bubble butt wrapped in a rhinestone studded scoop back dress that dipped all the way down to the crack of her ass. The dress’s crop top of her dress bit into her big milky white tits just above the nipples, with the tops of her breasts bulging out hard enough to almost kiss the cameras. The movie trailer in the corner showed the same slut tightly bound in a leather monokini, oiled and gleaming, as she stood atop a big rig truck screaming across an apocalyptic desert. The suspenders crossing her breasts were barely an inch thick and looked to be held on by thick piercings through her nipples.
Crying softly, Andrew fumbled with the tight suit pants digging into his raging 10 inch erection, a secret “I’m sorry” gift from the Jinteki genetic engineers who had botched his experimental neural enhancement. They had not, however, informed Andrew of his upgrade or the company tailor, and Andrew had been so disoriented after his release from the modification tanks that there was no time to tell him before he demanded a ride back home.
Before he could finish his inept fumbling, the elevator door opened into his family’s penthouse.
“In here Junior,” his father called from the dining room.
Sighing, Andrew sulked through the main hall and around the corner to find his father, the renowned Jackson Howard, seated at the head of a fancy real wood dining table. Howard’s trademark empty wide grin and lantern jaw beamed at his son over his clasped hands, framed by his own brick red hair. Sitting to Howard’s right was Andrew’s newest stepmother, Andromeda, wearing wore diamonds, and a sparking blue strapless, backless evening gown that complimented her permed curly blonde hair. She had been reclining lazily, sipping at a fizzy red drink until Andrew entered, when she looked at him with a smirk and an arched eyebrow over her glass. Andrew missed her expression entirely as his eyes briefly played over her 34HH breasts with the front of the dress pasted on them so tight he could see her nipples.
On Howard’s left, was a twitchy Eurasian woman with a nervous grimace on her face and disheveled raven black hair. She ignored Andrew because she was too busy adjusting and readjusting her little black microdress over her toned, athletic body for some semblance for modesty. Her outsized 32GG were conspicuously out of place on her tight frame, as did her cheap, blocky cyberarm bearing faded Russian Federation government markings. The graceless mechanical left arm undid her every effort, the hem of the dress slipping out of the clunky fingers like fog through a gate.
“Do you feel any older after almost year away from home son? You know, turning 18 is the first real step into manhood,” Howard said as he looked proudly at Andrew, noting his small but perfect musculature, another patented prototype courtesy of Jinteki.
“Those fucking Jinteki butchers sent me back to fucking adolescence for YOUR stupid intelligence experiment!” Andrew roared.
“Now, now son, I have been working hard with Jinteki to make you smarter and stronger than any little boy ever, but brain reshaping requires an open mind! A young mind! Just like the billions of children I reach every day with wholesome edutainment!”
“Besides,” Howard added, “Look at the wonderful job they did with your mother and Alexis here.” Andromeda raised her glass in salute.
“And who the fuck is she?!”
“Bitch blew up my apartment once,” Andromeda said, flatly, causing Alexis to glare at her silently.
Stunned, but still angry, Andrew ignored his stepmother and demanded, “You know what I don’t even care! You owe me old man! I’m getting a car! I’m getting a gun! I’m getting my own place! I’m…”
“You know what, I’ll do you one better, son, but first, your birthday cake!”
Jackson Howard leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers and smiling exactly as he did in every television spot he had ever been in.
Lunging into the lull in conversation, Andromeda whisked a magnificent pastel green Swedish Princess cake onto the table, topped with two thick white wax candles. Her disarming grin quieted her stepson as he stared at her huge tits hanging over the cake as she swifty lit the candles. Fluidly, Andromeda ripped the front of her gossamer dress off, exposing her engorged nipples and she folded her hands behind her back while leaning forward to place her breasts directly above the flame. Gasping lustfully at the heat, she bit her lip lightly and began to gently twist her torso to make her gargantuan tanned titties swing around and through the flames.
“This dance is for you son,” Andromeda sighed, her deliberately awkward rhythm crashing her breasts together above the flames as often as jiggling them and swinging them away from the heat. Her hungry whimpering got Andrew’s rod harder than it had ever been that day, so he finally pulled his massive member free of his pants and began to stroke himself as Alexis stared on in mute horror.
“Hold that thought, son. It’s time to make a wish.” Andromeda winked and pressed nipples straight into the tips of the burning candles, gasping sensually as she finished her dance. Pushing the cake aside, she pulled her stepson’s face in her cleavage. As he instinctively licked at her reddened orbs he noticed that despite the flames, his stepmother’s breasts were only irritated instead of burned.
Jackson Howard cracked his leather belt across Andromeda’s wide back, expertly whipping the tip around to slap the side of her tit without hitting his son. “Andrew, it’s time for you to get truly acquainted with your mother. Go for it, you sloppy whore.”
“Hey honey. From now on, I am your whore, not your mother. We want you to think of me as the best cock socket you’ll ever have.”
“You are a man now so you should learn all about cunts like your mother. We both know how men are, so an honest man will admit that he sometimes needs to treat women brutally. Your mother has graciously offered to become your cunt just as she does for me, a receptacle for all your worst destructive impulses. The best part is, anything you want, this cuntmeat can provide, thanks to our friends at Jinteki.”
Andromeda reluctantly pulled Andrew off of her fat tits, and held his shoulders while looking him in the eyes, “Before you were of age, I heard you jerking off a few times and that made feel like a terrible mother. I had always wanted to burst into your room tell you to fuck up one of my whore holes. You never clean your room yourself, so you probably never caught me stealing whatever you deposited your beautiful cum on as I tidied up your place. I would suck your cum out of whatever I found, no matter how dry. The thought of your cum not being injected straight into in one of my tight holes left me empty. Whenever I saw your hard cock, I hoped that you would give into your caveman instincts and punch me right in my stupid slut face and skewer me with your cock as fuckpig like me deserves. Even listening to the sound of your piss in your toilet brought me shame. Toilets are cold and unloving objects; it is my place to be your toilet now.”
Suddenly, Andromeda scooped up her still full drink glass and threw it all over Alexis, who screamed in horror as her dress melted away, exposing every inch of flesh she had worked so hard to hide. She had no underwear, and Andrew could see her crotch had been freshly shaven.
“You perverted bit-,” were the first words Alexis spoke all evening, but Andromeda grabbed Alexis’s head with both hands and slammed it into the cake. When Alexis convulsed and tried to pull herself upright, Andromeda pushed her throat back into the cake and slammed her head on the table for good measure. Despite this, Andromeda soon tugged Alexis straight up in her seat and held her by the shoulders, though the shocked woman quivered in terror.
“Alexis, you’re no longer a corporate special ops hardcase queen bitch. When you lost that arm, your worthless cunt became another drain on Weyland’s bottom line. So if you want our money to get real arm and become a real girl, you’re going to be our son’s dog. I’m the bottom bitch, but dear Jackson sometimes needs me to show off in public like any other respectable corporate fuckdoll, so it’s your job to make sure that he always has a set of holes to fuck. Cross me and I’ll sell you and your shit Russian arm at Aesop’s Pawnshop. Separately.”
Exactly like a kid, Andrew couldn’t stop himself from hearing that his new toy was special forces trained, “Wow mommy is she just like in all the movies and tv shows?”
“Mmm, yes honey,” Andromeda answered, “but she breaks down just like any other bitch. If you want a demonstration, I could have her fight other gutter whores until they drag her down by sheer weight of numbers. Or better yet, as your dog, she could fight the building’s guard dogs until they stick their knotted cocks into her and drag her all over the floor. Andrew sweetie, I was your mother and now I am a collection of fuckholes, a cumdump, and a toilet. Alexis was a fighting woman and now I need you to train her to be just like me.”
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do son,” the elder Jackson said, dismissing himself, “but the house cameras will show me all about your first bitch breaking later. I’m so proud of you son.”
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