Bear's Beauties: Existential Crisis 1 (Patreon)

[center]<<Bear Sandosen>>[/center]

The vision of erotic beauty that greeted my eyes was a familiar one. Natural red hair, full breasts, golden tanned skin, luscious, kissable lips. It had been a while since I’d had a dream starring her, but it was always a welcome occurrence. I guess not leaving the house in a month is making me relive some old fantasies.

“This isn’t a dream Bear,” she chuckled.

“Right. I just happened to wake up to the adult actress of the early nineties who hasn’t aged a day in the last thirty years,” I couldn’t resist quipping.

Tara Monroe giggled and gave a soft smile, making me try to swallow the lump in my throat. I’d had fantasies of her, just like pretty much everyone who went through puberty in the late eighties/early nineties, but something seemed different this time. I was more nervous than I usually was, but I chalked that up to the cabin fever from mandatory stay-at-home orders.

“I wanted to make sure that you’d be… agreeable to my offer,” Tara explained, smile still on her face.

“I’m going to stop you right there. I’ve read enough online stories to know that those words always mean bad news. Even if this were real, which it isn’t, saying that would make me less inclined to listen to your offer.”

“Do you want proof this is real?”

“Sure, go ahead, hit me with your best shot. This is a dream so you can’t.”

“Name one fantasy you’ve had where it’s been this long without our tongues tickling each other’s tonsils.”

“… it’s a dream that’s not skipping the set up?”

“Bear,” she chided, a look of exasperated amusement on her face. The way she looked at me, I was feeling like I was in highschool again, trying to talk to a pretty girl. I reached up to adjust my collar, only to remember that I was wearing a t-shirt.

“This isn’t a dream, Bear. I pulled you here from your sleep with an offer. If it weren’t a dream, on top of the fact that we haven’t so much as touched each other yet, would you be wearing just a shirt and boxers?” A glance down showed that, sure enough, I wasn’t wearing pants. More proof this wasn’t real.

For the first time, she looked unamused, “Alright, I’m done playing around.”

She snapped her fingers and the bland, previously unimportant surroundings shifted, swirling around the two of us before coming to a stop. I took in the new surroundings I found myself in, a rather familiar set of surroundings. Lots of blinking lights, a red door, red paneled command console, and a chair that every kid since the sixties wanted to sit in… bridge of the Enterprise… finger snap…

My gaze slowly turned to Tara Monroe… or should that be Q?

“Tara is fine,” she said with a small smirk.

Right, good… um… well this suddenly became much more awkward…

“So… why did a Q from beyond time and space pull me from my bedroom?” I asked, trying to be as respectful as I could and not stare at her breasts. I failed, but I made sure to pull my gaze back to her face.

“If I cared about you looking, I would have chosen a different form to appear in.  Or worn clothes, for that matter.  But in answer to your question, I’m here with an offer. You have three choices. The first: you wake up in your bed, forced to stay in your home while a bunch of politicians in their ivory towers make decisions that are completely divorced from the common person.

“The second choice: I send you to a paradisiacal world along with several women. You spend time with them, lower the walls you built around your heart, find happiness with them. After several years, you’d return to your world with them at the moment I pulled you out.

“The third choice is both the most dangerous and the most rewarding. I’d send you to a different world with the same women you’d meet in the second option, a world in grave peril and you’d be in a position to avert the coming Crisis and save more lives in the process than your mortal mind can begin to comprehend.”

I listened to the offer, and as tempting as it was to just pretend that this could happen, I had to ask, “Why?”

Tara chuckled, the sound like windchimes in a gentle breeze, “Humans and your endless curiosity.”

“Why do this? Why me? I’m a nerd in my fifties that’s stuck at home during this covid pandemic, I have no clue when I’ll be able to go back to work or if my company will even survive the lockdown. There’s millions, hell, billions of people in more need than me. That doesn’t factor in the fact that if Star Trek was even remotely accurate in its portrayal of the Q as a whole, ‘doing good’ isn’t part of their dictionary, let alone their play book.”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair, “Regarding the Q, you’re right. By and large, the Q are, as you’ve stated in online arguments, ‘complete dickwaffles.’”

Did she have to bring that up? I wrote that when I was drunk!  The only time I was drunk!

“But something that Star Trek did not include was our… hmm, the closest word you’d understand would be games, or bets. Groups of two or more Q will take mortals and place them in scenarios, then try to predict how they will act or respond to the scenario in front of them. Those who guess the most accurately, get higher prestige and bragging rights. To keep things fair, there’s a group of arbiters to prevent the Q placing bets from directly interfering or influencing any of the mortals in the scenario.”

“A race of all powerful, all knowing, all ‘experienced’ beings makes bets on how mortals react when isekai’d?” I asked incredulously. It seemed so… mundane, for want of a better word.

“Don’t worry Bear, you won’t be hit by a truck. That Q is banned from this scenario.”

“… what?”

“In this scenario’s case, you’ll be the only one dropped in, as the stakes were deemed high enough to not need an adversarial drop from another Q.”

“… high stakes, right. I feel the need to point out that I’m not exactly the pinnacle of health anymore. Hell, I never was. Even ignoring the fact that I’ve always had more pounds than I should, I’m well on the downward swing. How exactly am I supposed to help out with the kind of crisis you’re implying?”

“I can restore you to your prime, and then improve your health to its fullest potential. I assume that means you’ll take the third option?”

“Most likely, but I’d like some more information first. I don’t want to go into this blind.”

“Very well, but be aware that there are rules governing how much I can tell you before you agree. Mostly in the specific details about where the scenario takes place, and what the goals will be.”

“Okay, fair enough. Those were the first questions I was going to ask, but I’ve got some others. Will I be expected to do this on my own? How long will I have before this crisis thing occurs? Why’d you pick me? How’d you get to be the one to pick the mortal dropped into the scenario?”

“In reverse order: I spent most of the winnings I earned from the last scenario I partook in to get the right to choose the mortal. I noted your potential for this sort of scenario when you were a teenager and kept an eye on you.” Tara said the last sentence with an affectionate note. “You will arrive five years prior. You will be able to choose up to six companions before you are dropped in and the potential to recruit more.”

I took in what she’d told me and considered. Most of the other questions I had fell under what she’d told me she couldn’t answer, but I had one that I might be able to get something out of.

“These companions… is there anything you can tell me about them before I agree?”

She was quiet for a moment, clearly considering the rules to determine what she could tell me. After a minute or so, she hesitantly said, “All I can say right now, is that everything is real somewhere across creation.”

That could mean just about anything, but I had a sneaking suspicion that she was referring to something specifically. If my suspicion was right…

“I’ve already told you what I’m allowed, I can’t confirm or deny it.”

Okay, yeah, that’d be too easy. Taking a deep breath as she giggled, I said, “Alright. I’ll take the third choice. I’m in. Does that loosen up the rules on what you can tell me?”

She gave a devious smirk that looked out of place on her face, before a pirate-style treasure chest appeared next to her, “Thank you Bear, you just won me a not insignificant amount of Prestige. Really, if you’re so bad at predicting mortals, don’t place such high bets.”

The smirk, and the chest, disappeared and Tara walked, no, strutted, to me. Her arms rested on my shoulders, her breasts pressed against my chest, and her brown eyes gazed down into mine. Was Tara Monroe always that tall?

“In answer to your question,” she whispered huskily, which sent blood straight to my little brain, “Your companions will be chosen from across fictional media. Well, fictional in your slice of reality. Your task… what comes to mind when I say ‘The Crisis’?”

The emphasis on the article, and the fact that I could hear the capitalization of crisis… oh. Oh shit. “I’m tasked with stopping the Anti-Monitor? I… how… all of DC working together failed to stop that clusterfuck, how in the name of all things sacred am I supposed to do what the greatest heroes of my childhood failed to do?!”

“Did Washington defeat the British on his own? Did Bran the Builder lay down the ice that made the Wall while refusing help? Did Adolf Hitler push millions of people into gas chambers? Did Kirk bring back the whales without his crew? While yes, your task before you is much greater, you will not be doing so alone. You will be given all the tools you will need. If I did not think you were capable, I would not have picked you for this challenge.”

I swallowed nervously. The mere thought of going against the Anti-Monitor absolutely terrified me, for fuck’s sake, Superman wasn’t able to stop it, and I was supposed to somehow figure out a way? But… I’d already agreed, and even if I was able to back out, I’d be condemning literal countless lives. I… I couldn’t do that. Even knowing how low my odds were, I couldn’t just walk away.

Letting out a sigh, I asked, “When do I start?”

Tara gave a beaming grin, before leaning in and giving me a tender kiss. Her lips were full, soft, divine. My hands went to her hips, as hers danced in my hair. Pulling back after a moment, she rested her forehead on mine, her eyes staring into my own.

“First we need to improve that body of yours,” she whispered as my sleepwear disappeared.

“Wha…” I began before she shushed me.

“I believe your world has a song that describes what’s needed. Sexual Healing, if I’m not mistaken.”

I opened my mouth to respond, only to find it filled with her breast, my back against a soft mattress and silky sheets. Shrugging aside my confusion, I sucked on the soft flesh in my mouth, only to be surprised as smooth, rich, creamy fluid filled my mouth. The flavor of cherry vanilla ice cream burst across my tongue, and I began to such harder, even as I felt the years and pounds fade away.

“First we’ll restore your youth,” Tara began as her fingers traced patterns through my thickening hair, “Then we can get to the more… fun details.”

I was all in favor of that. I was feeling more energized than I had in years, breathing was easier, joint pains I’d learned to live with were fading, the stark comparison of my body in its youth was impossible to ignore, or take for granted. As the nipple ran dry, I switched to the other. As I swallowed the first mouthful, possible choices danced through my head, a myriad of possible abilities and flaws filling my mind.

“Oh, you like that one? I can’t say I’m surprised. Sexual Immortality has such… potential,” Tara cooed, the extra pounds I’d always had fading. “Mmmm… let’s make sure you can share, and I think your partners will enjoy these.”

Finally, Tara pulled back, a gentle, loving smile on her face as she crawled backwards. Kneeling between my legs, she wrapped those perfect breasts around me, her voice taking a husky tone as she moved them up and down, “How many times have you imagined what this would feel like? Dozens? Hundreds? How do they compare to the real thing? Is it everything you ever imagined? No, it’s better, isn’t it? Having your hard, throbbing cock buried between my breasts. You’re going to cum soon, aren’t you? You cum’s going to cover my breasts, isn’t it? Let it happen, Bear.  Do it.  Surrender to your lust.  Cum all over my chest, cum for me!”

That did it. I threw my head back with a groan as I came. One spurt, two, three. More than I could count, until, when I finished, her entire chest above her breasts was absolutely caked. Tara wasn’t bothered, indeed, the look on her face resembled the cat that got both the canary and the cream. Running a finger through the mess, she popped it into her mouth with a moan.

Despite having just cum, I was still hard, and she climbed up over my hips, straddling my waist. Her fingers wrapped around my throbbing length, rubbing the head against her moist slit, before she slid down. Slowly, tortuously slowly, her wet lips spread open and took me into her. Her walls pressed down on my shaft from all sides, a soft vice that felt better than any I’d ever been with in my life. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, our hips touched, and Tara let out a breathy moan, “Now, to make sure you won’t have to deal with fateweavers.”

Honestly, I could hardly remember what we said after that point.  My focus was on her perfect form and doing my absolute best to make sure that she enjoyed herself. Every time I found something she enjoyed, I paid special attention to that before moving on to find the next weak spot. I had vague recollections of talking about other women, but thinking about someone other than your partner while having sex is more than a little rude.

She milked me dry what felt like a dozen times, before she finally collapsed on my chest, sweat covering her body and soaking her hair. Exhausted, I barely had the energy to pull her face to mine for a final kiss.

Breaking the kiss, Tara gazed into my eyes and whispered, “I’ve given you all the help I can. But I’m confident you’ll be fine. Sleep.  When you wake up, you’ll be on your way.”

Sleep… that sounded really good right now.

[center]<<Tara Q>>[/center]

Sending Bear on his way, she stood up, clothes materializing over her form. She had a guest that had been trying to intrude for the last relative hour. Now she could greet him. Letting her fellow Q in, the form of Q appeared before her, scowl on his face.

“Took you long enough, the others were getting restless,” he growled.

“You’re just mad that my human accepted my advances and Picard refused yours. Well, that and that you had to forfeit five thousand Prestige,” she returned.

“I’ll win it back. Even if you correctly predicted he’d take the offer, the odds against him are too high, and you’re risking far too much on him. You spent everything you had just getting this endeavor arranged. Were it not for myself and others accepting that wager on his first choice, you’d be in debt. For what? A tiny slice of the multiverse that’ll collapse sooner or later?”

“That’s the key difference between us Q. You look at the shortness of their existence as a flaw. While it is in some respects, there’s a line from a movie in Bear’s world that so perfectly encapsulates it: ‘Something isn’t beautiful because it lasts.’”

“Really? Quoting an artificial life?”

“In the end, we’ll never agree on this. I believe the payout will be worth it, even without the Prestige. Now, all we can do is watch. With Bear on his way, the Board will be keeping an eye for interference. I know a good place to gaze through the Bleed from. Shall we make some small wagers?”

The forms of Tara Monroe and John DeLancie disappeared from her domain, off to watch what had been set in motion.