Date: Mon, 5 May 2014 02:55:39 -0400 From: John Marshall <crackerjacker18@hotmail.com> Subject: Jackin' Jack Cox Chapter 9 This story does NOT directly continue the saga which began with "The Working Boys,"continued with "Ecstasy Island," followed by "Ecstasy Renewed," "EcstasyInc," "The Pharm Boys," and "Erotic Isle: the Endless Orgasm." However, like my other stories, it is unorthodox but quite seductive, as are the figures depicted. Like "The Working boys," "Ecstasy Island," and "Ecstasy Renewed" (all found under Bisexual Adult/Youth), as well as "EcstasyInc," and "The Pharm Boys" and "Erotic Isle: the Endless Orgasm." (found under Gay Adult/Youth), this one is also written in third person and proceeds in something close to real time with extensive dialogue to carry the story along and intense character development. Though there is some mention of some of the characters from the earlier stories all the people in this story are new characters. Once more, this story is extremely orgasmic with all ejaculating dialogue written in UPPER CASE. If you do not wish to be exposed to such material as described, leave now. If you are too young for this sort of thing, leave now. If reading this causes you to break the law where you live, leave now. Otherwise, take the time now to get naked and get your cock hard, start strokin' it. Jack yourself off as you read and see if you can time your own blasts of naked sexual pleasure with those of the characters in the book. This one averages about one or two orgasms per chapter. For that reason, I don't recommend reading more than one chapter at a time. Any more than that might be hazardous to your sexual health...especially your hard, throbbing cock. Note: All drugs mentioned are fictitious. If you like what you read, let me know at crackerjacker18@hotmail.com. JACKIN' JACK COX CHAPTER NINE "Jack, this is Dr. Astin Roland." Ien introduced the scholarly looking man of about forty to Jack the next morning as they sat at a conference table on one of the upper floors of the Cox Research Institute. "Astin is our archivist here at the institute. He's also a history professor at Pepperdine, specializing in the 20th and 21st centuries." "And don't even THINK about making a joke," Dr. Roland put forth immediately. "I don't go by the nickname 'Ass'." "Wow, finally, someone who don't look like they got their PhD. when they were like...ten or something," Jack smiled as he shook the man's hand. "He even dresses in regular clothes." "I collect 20th century apparel reproductions," Dr. Roland told Jack. "I don't usually WEAR them but...today, I thought you might be more comfortable if I dressed for the part." "What part is that?" Jack asked skeptically. "I guess you'd call this a briefing," Dr. Roland continued. "You know what a briefing is? Were they using that term in 1961?" "Yeah, I guess," Jack allowed. "I've never used it but...grownups do, I think." "Jack, Dr. Roland is going to start the process of filling you in on what we'd like you to know and do once you get back to your own time," Ien explained. "I already KNOW that," Jack insisted. "You already said...find this girl and FUCK her, make a baby boy named Jason Cox, right?" "Uhhh...err...right...up to a point," Dr. Roland shifted uncomfortably in his dark gray suit. "I wish I could say that's all there was to it but..." "How many times I gotta fuck her?" Jack asked. "I'm not big on fuckin' girls, you know. I like boys better." "Well, more than once, to be sure," Ien noted. "But that's the least of our worries." "Do you now? You like boys better?" Dr. Roland smiled picking up on Jack's latter words. He glanced up nervously as Ien hovered over them. "You didn't mention he was gay." "Gay? Well, maybe, but from what I saw yesterday afternoon, I'd say he's rather bi," Ien told the man. "She practicallly RAPED me," Jack made the excuse. "Really, Dr. Roland, she..." "Please, call me Astin. Dr. Roland makes me feel twenty years older than I look." "How old ARE you? Jack asked, his eyes narrowing skeptically. He'd learned that in 2475, age was a rather enigmatic subject. "Hooooo, god, where to begin," Astin Roland sighed once more. "Jack...Dr. Roland is NOT family. It's considered...how shall I put this? VERY impolite to ask ANYONE their age, especially when they're older than you," Ien explained cautiously "I suppose talking about how many times he's been lifted is bad form too," Jack sighed. "Okay...let's clear the air. I'm fifty and I've had one lift," Astin Roland admitted tersely. "There, that satisfy your little-boy curiosity?" "Astin...uhhh...kid gloves...? We talked about...remember?" Ien cautioned. Dr. Roland nodded. "I'm...I'm not used to dealing with...middle school..." "Junior High," Jack corrected. "Right...middle school didn't come into common usage until the 1970s," Astin corrected himself. "Do you like boys?" Jack questioned as Dr. Roland seemed trying to collect his thoughts, now scattered all over the floor. "Do I like...?" Astin choked. "Fair question. I've wondered about that a few times, myself," Ien interjected. "You can feel safe, certainly not twelve-year-old boys," Astin assured him. "How old then?" Jack continued. "Young man..." "Doc..." Ien raised his voice slightly. "We'd get further faster if you let ME ask the questions, okay?" Astin worked to calm himself. "Let me do the talking." "Jack, Dr. Roland is used to teaching young adults...grad students mostly," Ien explained patiently. "He's not used to... "Bratty little seventh graders?" Jack suggested. "Jack...please...have you ever heard of a man named Dr. Steven Mathison?" "Of course," Jack replied patiently. "He's about the richest guy in the Universe, right Ien?" "Possibly," Ien nodded toward Astin to continue. "He WAS, anyway." "This research facility is built on the site of the old Mathison estate," Astin revealed. Then he stood abruptly. "Jack, come here...I want to show you something...look out the window here." Jack followed him to the floor-to-ceiling window. From their vantage point on about the fifth or six floor, the view was interesting, if not exactly breathtaking. "Look down there, see that beach...that narrow stretch of sand over there?" Astin rested one hand on Jack's bare shoulder, bending over, he pointed. "Yeah..." Jack reacted cautiously. "That's where Ien found you...well, the back part of the beach, really, sea-levels having risen a couple feet since 1961," Astin told him. "So?" Jack was impressed, but tried not to show it. "Jack, in just five days, the optimal plasma restitution window will open again and we'll take you back down there to return you to 1961 Malibu," Dr. Roland paused. "Between now and then, we've got about a zillion pieces of Cox family trivia and CoxINT data to cram into this pretty little head of yours. You've got your whole life ahead of you. There's far more to this than your sireing a son. You're going to be a father...a grandfather eventually. You'll be rasing your son and guiding your grandson to important positions of influence and power. We've got just five days to make sure you'll know..." "What the fuck you're doing," Ien finished Astin's thought. "Otherwise you could screw things up SOOO bad...Jack I'm not going to sugarcoat this. If you screw up, we here, more than a thousand Cox descendants...could all be..." "Dead," Astin took his turn at finishing sentences. "Toast..." Jack translated to 20th century idiom. "Well...gone, at least...like we never existed," Ien continued. "I thought you weren't sure exactly what screwin' around with Einstein's space-time continuium would cause." Jack reacted, turning from the window to face the other two. "Isn't that what you and your uncle decided?" "Perceptive kid," Astin commented, a touch of admiration in his voice. "And we're trying NOT to find out," Ien countered tersely. "So I get brainwashed so you guys..." Jack began. "Briefed," Astin corrected. "Listen...son, if you were in OUR shoes...would you want to just...evaporate because someone five hundred years ago said or did something wrong?" Jack looked, down, sadly shaking his head, the full weight of what was expected of him starting to sink in. "Go on." "Normally, Jack, we would just have implanted an interface chip in your cerebral cortex and fed all this to you digitally," Ien told him. "Over my dead body," jack asserted himself. "Hopefully not, but that has happened," Astin admitted. "Some people, in our time, have reacted violently to interfacing. And, such relatively minor brain surgery, even today, isn't totally without risk. "We figured you might be adverse to the procedure, and in any case, we decided the risk wasn't worth the benifits, so we're...briefing you...and will be doing so quite heavily until it's time for you to go back to the Beach Boys." "You like the Beach Boys?" Jack brightened. "Not particularly," Ien admitted, even though he'd only heard one of their songs. "They grow on ya," Astin noted for the record. "I've always kind of liked 'Good Vibrations'." "Never heard that one," Jack told him. "You will," Astin promised. "Okay, so what's the name of this girl I'm supposed to fuck?" Jack sat back down, deciding to get down to business. "We can't tell you," Ien told him, sitting down next to Dr. Roland, opposite Jack. "You WHAT?" Jack reacted. "Then how am I supposed... "We CAN show you her picture," Astin pulled from his jacket pocket a photo. "She's twelve here...Born in 1950...she'll only be eleven when you go back to '61." "'62." Ien corrected. "'62?" Astin questioned? "We've done some research, we decided it might be...it's complicated...be more advisable to give the dust a little time to settle after Jack's disappearance before he shows up again with a different name. Arriving a year later will also give him a little time to mature...change his appearance slightly." Ien tried to explain. "I can understand the part about the dust, but what makes you think he's going to look older just because it'll be a year later when he gets back?" Astin asked. "I was afraid you were going to ask that," Ien admitted. "The truth be told, we have a theory, that's the way we plan to prove it." "So, I'm just some sort of scientific experiment, is that it?" Jack reacted in dismay. "No...or at least...not primarily..." Ien hesitated. "Look, Jack...it's cost us hundreds of millions to bring you here, even more to prepare you and send you back." "You're hoping to get your money's worth..." Astin smiled, shaking his head, knowing how the governor tended to think in terms of costs and benifits. "This is the governor's idea, right...Avery wants to use me a guinea pig?" Jack realized. "I don't know how smart this kid is but he sure knows how to read people," Astin again gained a new respect for Jack. "Dr. Roland is right," Ien nodded. "There's a lot for you to learn and remember, but...I think you called it...street smarts...that's important too." "Maybe even MORE important," Astin added. "We can cram your head full of facts and figures, but once you get back, you're very much on your own. Your...instincts...how you use what you alone will know in the 20th century...that's critical." "No walkie-talkie to the 25th century?" Jack joked. "Walkie Talkie?" Ien drew a blank. "Doc...walkie talking?" "Walkie-talkie...just what it sounds like--a crude, short-range single-channel communication divice...you can walk around and talk...like the old cell phones people used to carry before implantation." "I see..." Ien digested another nugget of 20th century history and culture. "Actually, we WILL be able to...tune you in for brief...damned brief...moments...if Uncle Avery has the budget for it. It'll be all one way, though. We can, hopefully see you...probably hear you, but I'm afraid you won't be able to hear or talk to us." "Amazing. You're further into this than I thought," Astin acknowledge what was news to him. "Technically, were YEARS ahead of our nearest compeditors in the field but...god, the COSTS..." Ien sighed in despair. "How much?" Astin probed. "Don't ask," ien sighed. "I'm not sure we even KNOW...lots...lots and lots." "Shall we tell him about the drop box?" Astin asked. "The what?" Jack eyed the two suspiciously. "You ever hear of a time capsule?" Ien asked. "That a pill you take when you run short of time?" Jack joked. "Cute," Ien smiled, not really amused. "The fact is, we've found one. Dr. Mathison left us one. We've not opened it. Jack, when you get back, when you...you'll be joining his family...we think the time capsule was closed and buried in his back yard around 1970, give or take a year or two. We stumbled upon it when we were excavating for this wing last year, in fact." Ien told Dr. Roland. What we need you to do is see if you can FIND this time capsule and place in it a log of everything you've done up to...whatever time Mathison decided to close up the capsule." "How big is this thing?" Dr. Roland inquired. "Actually, it's a concrete burial vault," Ien explained. "X-rays indicate it's barely half full." "Why all the paperwork?" Jack questioned. "Well, I guess you'll sort of be making...or at least writing down history, a first-person account of everything you do, at least for the first few years after you go back," Ien explained. "If he closed the vault in 1970, that'll be eight very important years and we'd like to...'read all about it'." "So, I just keep a diary and at the last minute toss it in the box?" Jack digested all he'd been told. "Okay, let's see this girl...see her picture. Is she cute?" Astin handed him the well-worn black, wallet-size school picture. Jack stared at it silently, then a smile spread across his face. "You like what you see?" Ien guessed. "Well...sure...she's cute, but, whatever the reason you wouldn't tell me her name ain't gonna matter much," Jack told them. "What do you mean?" Astin asked. "Her name is Susan Mathison," Jack told them the name. "I went to kindergarten...first grade too, I think...we were in the same class." "Hmmmmm...." Ien pondered. "You'd not counted on that?" Astin smiled. It wasn't often that Ien miscalculated in such a manner. "Mind telling me now why you wouldn't tell me her name?" Jack questioned, still holding the picture, staring at it. "You shouldn't be surprised, they're almost the same age," Astin noted. "Jack's a year older, I think, right?" "Yeah, I guess," Jack shrugged. "Actually, since he knows her already, it doesn't really matter," Ien decided. "You see, Jack, we were worried that she might see through our little ploy, especially if you let slip something we told you," Ien explained. "She's a very intelligent little girl." "Like her name?" Jack smiled. "That being the case you still have a problem," Astin noted. "Oh?" Ien looked at him blankly. "I'm surprised you haven't picked up on it," Astin smiled. "You see...if HE knows HER then obviously SHE is going to know HIM." "Right," Ien nodded. "Know HIM as James Jackson ROBERTS...the missing, presumed dead, boy she once knew in kindergarten," Astin continued. "DAMN!" Ien swore. "Major problem," Astin smiled, enjoying Ien's consternation. "Huh...uhhh...errr...no...not really," Ien recovered. "I'm just mad didn't think of that myself." "But I'm gonna look a year older, right?" Jack countered. "Maybe she won't..." "She will," Ien said decisively. "We know this little lady...she's one of our ancestors, remember," Ien reminded him. "AND, she has an IQ of about...twenty dozen, give or take..." "You thinking what I'm thinking?" Astin asked. "A lift?" Ien eyed the older man. "A LIFT!" Jack recoiled. "No, that WASN'T what I was thinking. Ien, there isn't a face-man around who'll lift a twelve-year-old, even it it was legal, which it most assuredly IS NOT," Astin advised. "Then there's the recovery time...two or three weeks at least. "Wait just a DAMNED FUCKIN' MINUTE!" Jack rose angrily from his seat, glowering at them like some kind of wild beast. "Ain't NOBODY gonna take a knife to THIS pretty face!" "Relax...we don't use knives...as you so crudely put it...anymore," Ien told him, trying to calm Jack a little. "It's all done with lasers, son, but..." Astin told the boy, then turned to Ien. "Ien, you can't be SERIOUS..." "Don't argue with ME, I've got no say in this," Ien insisted. "We both know it'll be the governor's decision whatever we do." "What's a laser?" Jack asked. "Like a Flash Gordon ray gun of some kind?" "Who? What?" Ien reacted, obviously so lost in thought as to be absent from the 25th century moment as any in the 20th century. "Sci-fi comic book hero...mostly from the fifties...forties and fifties, if I recall," Astin demonstrated his grasp of popular culture from Jack's time. "No, Jack, nothing like that at all. A laser is a concentrated beam of organized light used in present day surgical procedures...painless and rapidly healing. But Ien, you do that, he's not going to be in any condition for a five-hundred year chronoport in just five days." "He's too young to grow a beard," Ien joked, contemplating Jack's face, desperately searching for an alternative he might recommend to his uncle. "We could dye his hair, maybe we even shave his head..." "I'd rather be lasered," Jack objected mildly. "Ien...the boy's...he's a very pretty...handsome...attractive kid...whatever word is appropriate here. "Your great, great, great, et-cetera, et-cetera grandmother Susan isn't likely to forget a kid as cute...I've seen his kindergarten photo...a kid as cute as Jack." "Especially after I kissed her," Jack let go another bombshell. "YOU WHAT?!" Both his antagonists cried in unison. "On the playground...during recess one day," Jack explained. "She slapped my face." "She'll remember." Astin said decisively. "A cover story maybe?" Ien thought out loud. "Whadyamean?" Astin asked. "Jack here ran away from home, faked his own death, changed his name, and now...err...then...whatever...needs her to keep his secret so his father won't find him and beat the shit outta him." "Sounds good to me," Jack approved, especially considering the alternative. Actually, it wasn't far from the truth. "Hmph...you'll be lucky if she didn't somehow know the REAL Jack Cox," Astin told him, considering the cover story rather far-fetched. Ien suddenly looked up wordlessly at Dr. Roland and glared angrily. "Damn..." Astin sighed after a moment, looking down, shaking his head in regret. "The real..." Jack began. "The real Jack Cox is dead," Ien told him tersely, his voice tinged with anger. "Killed in a boating accident in the Bahamas, March 7th, 1959. He was was ten years old," Astin told Jack sadly. "He was about your age."