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Clone Mercy
Author: Closet Fetishist

Written: September 3rd, 2010

Suddenly the phone rings and Cassandra is startled from her daze. She reaches for the receiver.

"Hello? You're kidding? You're serious? Did he say why? Yeah, send him right away."


About an hour later, an elder but well built man stands before Cassandra in her lavish but small office.

"Do you know why you're here?"

"No, ma'am."

"Well, my report of your progress said you liberated three strongholds; well done."

The man smiles.

"This was, of course, at the cost of...ten civilian lives?"

" They were in the immediate vicinity when the shit went down; I'm unsure of what else I could have done."

Cassandra rises from her comfy desk chair and walks around her desk towards the man, "Perhaps. Still, ten innocent lives...poof. Gone."

The man rolls his eyes behind the woman's back.

"I mean, let's be real here; I don't give a shit about..." she ruffles through the file, "Guy Hiedberg, Patricia Guiniess, Liam Freddy, Kevin Halback, Diane Bilk, or any one of those pieces of shit; walking around in predetermined lines and going nowhere in life. Who needs 'em! Problem is...dead civilians tends to generate some bad rep for the Peace Keepers."

"Ma'am, I will promise to be more wary of the situation in the future in regards to innocents in the battlefield."

"Well that's just super! Why don't you go ahead back to work then."


"Yeah, go on."

She returns to her desk as if to dismiss the man. He starts to leave.

"Oh, before you go; come here for a second."

The man gulps as he approaches the beauty wearing her assigned, tight, sexy uniform. It's all black with blue trim; a one-piece jumpsuit of form hugging latex.

He approaches the backside of the desk only to discover the air quite tainted with distinct and potent smell of human flatulence. Cassandra peers up, for just one second, as the wretched scent sends the man down to his knees; he coughs heavily, choking on the thick fart air.

Cassandra finally rises. She grabs the man by the neck and takes him to her desk. She lies his head back against the desk and slips her jumpsuit off just past her ass. She hovers her ass and it's stink filled aura inches above the man's tormented nose; she wiggles it playfully. Then, without warning, she plops down, with a suctioned smack, on his face; sealing it in her potent butt prison.


As the butt comes down, the fart air rushes out her asshole and into the nostrils of the man. He tries to turn his head from the taint but it's no use; his handler is too heavy.

"How's that smell? It should smell like justice you civilian killing fuck."

Her hands shoot down as she braces herself.


Her head shoots back as the mammoth fart blasts out her blowhole; she sighs audibly.

"Soooo good, huh? Can you guess what I ate for lunch?"


"Oh, just a little one...wait..."


"There we go," she says, giggling.

Wildly the man kicks and bucks trying to free himself from his gassy boss but it's to no avail.

He slows his fight and breathes deeper.


His breathing quickens.

"That's it; keep it steady and...BRRRRPPPPPPPP!..."

She laughs as she, mindlessly, files her nails.

The man's fight starts to diminish; his breathing barely existent.

Cassandra grunts; pushing loudly.


"Ahhhhhhhh, a wet finish you off; ashes to ashes, shit to shit."

She rises up off the man's face and he falls lifelessly to the floor. She returns to her chair and hits the intercom.

"Raul, could you get another clone in Pacific City on the double; I hear rumors of a Cell arms deal going down; we can't miss it."

"Sure thing, boss."

"Could you also find that morning coffee guy and send him to my office?"

"I can; what for?"

"Oh, he keeps bring me decaf and I want to let him know his mistake so he doesn't make it in the future."


"And Raul?"

"I'll put a new ad on the Classifieds Channel for a coffee guy."

"You're the best, Raul!"

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