The Fountain of Discontent
Way Too Much of a Good Thing
Summary: There's no such thing as too much Dawn and Mini-Jack. And just how careless and inattentive was Loki, anyway?
Disclaimer: I’m playing on the turf of Buffy the Vampire Slayer
and Stargate SG-1
. The Chapter
Jon O'Neill walked confidently into the classroom, found his assigned desk and sat down. He got a notebook and a textbook out of his backpack, adjusted two pens and a pencil just so, and waited patiently for the teacher. He started his little meditation mantra that he had learned from Teal'c in order to put his mindset into the right gear to keep from making sarcastic comments out loud. This had got him into difficulty before, but he could tamp it down. He had begun to think of this whole High School gig as a mission
, an undercover
mission at that. And that’s all it took to get through the daily nonsense with his sanity intact.
But then Michelle Owens wafted by and sat down directly in front of him.'Oh my god, the girls didn't dress like that when I was in high school the first time around! Did they? At least not in Minnesota,'
he thought as he contemplated Michelle's mostly backless and astonishingly short dress. He couldn't help but notice that he could see quite a lot of her torso through the generously cut armholes. She wasn't wearing a brassiere, and by twisting his head slightly sideways he could see the swell of her left breast. And if he leaned to the right, he could see part of her right breast. He stiffened to attention. He was wearing a large loose shirt, unmilitarily untucked just for these kinds of situations, which had become more or less continuous in the last few weeks. He glanced down long enough to make sure his shirt covered the growing bulge in his pants. Then he went back to studying Michelle's back, her perfect creamy skin, the way her neck...
There was something wrong with him, there had to be. He remembered his teen years from thirty-five years ago, and yeah, he remembered getting really, really, horny, sure, but not this
horny. He didn't used to have to jerk-off six or seven times a day, or more. It was crazy. The trouble was, if he didn't take the matter into his own hand at frequent intervals, he would spontaneously burst forth in his underwear, usually when it was the most difficult to act like nothing unusual was happening. And it had been months since he'd had a nights sleep without several nocturnal emissions. It did make for great dreams, but he had to wear makeshift diapers to keep from making a mess of his bed. No way was he going to the store and buy Depends though, no fucking way.
He needed to see a doctor about this, but it would have to be a doctor who knew about his bizarre background. And that could only be Janet Fraiser. He put his head in his hands and thought about talking to Janet about his too-frequent spontaneous ejaculations. Yeah, wouldn't that
conversation be a real treat for both of them. Well not for Janet, she was a doctor, she'd be very cool and professional, but he wasn't and he just couldn't talk about stuff like that with a woman he wasn't sleeping with – and even then it would be embarrassing. He just didn't have the same open attitude about sex that the modern kids surrounding him had.
It had been an extreme strain on his psyche to acclimatize himself to the casual references to anything and everything about sex, the constant use of the word 'fuck' and all its permutations, the weird idea floating around that blow-jobs somehow weren't real sex. Actually, the boy's talk wasn't that different from his previous experience – it was just a little better informed; it was when the girls joined in that it made him feel like a visitor from another planet. And if he was honest with himself, he had to admit that he had more in common with at least some visitors from other planets than he did with the current crop of American teenagers. He was entrenched in the values of small-town rural America of four decades ago, but he knew that he had to change so he could blend in. It might be dangerous for him if he couldn't adapt.
A week went by and suddenly there was a new girl in two of his classes. Dawn Summers. Now Michelle was undeniably beautiful, gorgeous, curvy, she definitely caused his body to react. But Dawn was in a class by herself. She was international class, no, make that intergalactic class beautiful. Her lips, god, her lips – he wanted those lips...
All thoughts of differentiation and limits disappeared from his head when Dawn sat next to him in AP Calculus. He couldn't help himself, he imagined her naked, lying on her back, her legs spread, her whole body inviting and receptive. His cock got so hard it felt like it was made of case-hardened steel. Even though he had performed a manual override less than two hours before, he felt perilously close to climaxing just sitting next to Dawn.
“Uh, what?” he asked foolishly when he realized that the real Dawn was trying to get his attention.
,” said Dawn, “did you get the fifth question in last nights homework?”
“Oh, uh, yeah, I think I did,” Jon answered. He imagined her luscious lips wrapped around his quivering hard-on while his tongue explored between her legs. Oh god, her legs. He had seen her that morning dressed for field hockey. Her actual gym shorts were baggy and came halfway down her legs and didn't really show all that much skin, but in in his fevered imagination they were tiny and extremely tight. So tight that he imagined he could see her most intimate creases outlined under the cloth. The shorts strained to keep from bursting off her body.
“Oh crap!” he exclaimed quietly as his body reacted all on its own. His attempt to hold it back just made the orgasm that much more intense. The end result was unstoppable because the sensitivity of his penis kept ratcheting up until the slightest movement against his jockey shorts caused enough friction to initiate take-off. It took incredible self-control to appear relaxed and outwardly normal while his testicles pumped seminal fluid which burst enthusiastically from his penis and onto his belly and soaked into his underwear. The best he could hope for was to look constipated to the students around him. As the last drops shot out he could feel his balls contract, signaling an end to this round. It was difficult to try and not to look like he was breathing heavily, even though he needed to. But he succeeded in calming himself surreptitiously. He raised his hand. The added humiliation of having to ask permission to use the bathroom truly capped off the indignity of coming in his pants in the middle of a class, but he had to get himself cleaned up.
The bathroom was thankfully empty. He took off his bluejeans and underwear and wiped off the mess off his stomach with soapy water and rough paper towels as best he could. He put his jeans back on, tossed his underwear into the trash can, made sure it was well hidden, washed his hands and went back to class.
He sighed as he sat down. Dawn smiled at him. His cock twitched, he smiled at her and noticed the way her breasts thrust against the material of her tight little top. He had just enough presence of mind to find his homework and pass over problem five.
Dawn looked at at the paper and said, “So that's how it's done! Good grief, I feel like such a doofus now.”
“I'm sure you're not a doofus. I just happened to remember that solution from a problem I had a few years ago.”
“ 'A few years ago?' ” questioned Dawn, “you were what, eleven or twelve when you had this problem?”
Oops. “Uh, well, my, uh, dad was designing a mirror for his homemade astronomy telescope, and he figured it out and showed me how he did it every step of the way.”
“Oh, I see. Cool. What's your dad do?”
“He was in the Air Force. But he died.”
“Oh gosh, jeez, I'm so sorry, I really put my foot in and chomped it off, oh, I'm so sorry.”
“Hey, it's all right, you don't need to apologize, you didn't know and it was two years ago now.”
He wasn't certain how he made it through the rest of the class without another eruption. He kept noticing Dawn, couldn't help but imagine her in his bed, naked, looking up at him with desire in her eyes. He imagined her legs wrapped around his waist while he was plunged deep inside her. He could very nearly feel her breasts pressed against his chest while he was plunged deep inside her. He almost knew what her buttocks would feel like cupped in his hands while he was plunged deep inside her. Her lips pressed against his, her tongue entwined with his tongue, while plunged deep inside her. Hell and damnation
, he thought, if I can't think of something else I'm gonna come again. Twice in twelve minutes is too much. What was that second-order equation again?
After school was over he headed back to his condo. He decided to take the shortcut through the athletic field around back of the baseball diamond. He walked rapidly, really pushing it because physical work helped to keep his insane libido under control. As he approached the dugouts, he heard a girl yell, “Get your fuckin' hands off me, you asshole!” It sounded like Dawn.
He heard someone answer, “That's how I like my bitches, angry and excited!”
And her furious reply, “I warn you, if you don't back the fuck off I'm gonna pancake your balls, you ignorant troglodyte!”
He broke into a run and found Dawn fiercely staring down one of the school's star athletes, he couldn't remember his name or what he did, but Jon saw red and said, “You heard her, leave while you're still in one piece.” He did his best to radiate danger calmly and coolly, just like he used to back in his black ops days.
Dawn's tormentor turned to Jon and said, “Oh great, and what the fuck is a skinny little deebatroid like you gonna do about it?” He stepped forward and casually backhanded Jon.
Jon answered with a solid right, but he was horrified to discover that his punches lacked power. Then he attempted a rolling toss with some fancy moves intended to lock his opponents arms, but nothing was working right. He couldn't get his brand new juvenile body to move the way thirty years of training said everything should. He knew what
to do, but somehow his muscles weren't following his brain's instructions correctly. As a result, he collected a heavy punch to his jaw, fell to the ground and got kicked in the ribs.
Dawn shouted, “Hey! Stop that!” and proceeded to use a couple of Krav Maga moves that left the attacker on the ground, crawling away and moaning softly.
“Hey Jon, are you all right?”
“Erk, what hit me, a truck?” he asked.
“Billy Bob Dyson, I'm afraid. I think you made an enemy.”
“And you didn't?”
“Oh, he's been on my shit-list ever since he tried to feel me up in the school office on my first day in this school. I guess I didn’t hurt him enough since he didn’t learn anything from the experience. Come on, let's get you to the nurse's office.” Dawn reached down to help Jon get to his feet.
The moment she touched him, his dick started to quiver. By the time she got him standing up and leaning against her, with her arm around his waist and his arm over her shoulders, he had a full-on boner straining to be let out. This was totally and completely ridiculous, he thought. Even with the crap beat out of me, I'm still horny as a... Wait, I can not
see the nurse in this condition. Or any condition, really, because the school nurse was really hot.
“No Dawn, I'm going home. I don't want or need to see the nurse, this isn't bad, I'll be alright. You'll see. This is just a little bruising, I've had far worse.”
Dawn looked at him sceptically, “Well, you may be right. Okay, I'll help you get home. Uh, where is your home?”
It hadn't occurred to him that she'd be so conscientious as to help him walk home. But he couldn't refuse her assistance without looking like a jerk, so he said, “Up that hill, and over a couple of blocks.” They walked off as Billy Bob Dyson struggled to his feet and staggered away, muttering imprecations while glaring at Dawn over his shoulder.
In fact, Jon wasn't badly hurt, so it didn't take much longer than usual to get to his condo. And besides, he quite enjoyed leaning against Dawn. He wasn't entirely certain, but it seemed to him that she was being more supportive than absolutely necessary, but he wasn't going to complain. “Second from the end,” he said, “number five.”
Dawn got him inside and took a look around. “Wow, this is nice. What's your mom do?”
“I'm an emancipated minor. This is mine, thanks to a trust fund.”
“Really?” Dawn said, surprised, “I've gotta say, this isn't what I would expect from the typical teenage boy living alone. I mean, it's all clean, and mostly neat, and the décor is something I'd expect from an older man.”
“Oh, well, I had someone do it for me. And I have a cleaning service come in once a week, and uh, I like it this way.”
Dawn had found a well-stocked first-aid kit in the bathroom and came back to nurse Jack. He lay back on a dark-brown leather couch with his eyes closed, one knee raised in an attempt to hide his vigorous erection. He was caught completely off-guard when Dawn knelt beside the couch and started to clean the bruising on his face.
“Dawn, you don't need to do that!”
“No, but I don't mind. You did rush to my rescue after all.”
“Yeah, but it turned out that you didn't actually need rescuing. Those were some nice moves you put on Billy boy there. Where'd you learn that, any way?”
“My sister.” At Jacks raised eyebrow, she added, “She teaches martial arts at a dojo here in the Springs.”
“Really? What discipline does she teach?”
“Several forms of Jujitsu and judo, Tae Kwon Do, kick-boxing. Also Krav Maga – both the self-defense and lethal versions.”
“Damn, she knows all those?”
“And more besides. She'd be happy to teach Karate, for instance, but people who want to learn Karate don't believe she could teach them; she being so small and girlish. And when she proves to such people that she’s an expert at Karate by blasting a hole in a large two inch thick oak plank with her fist, they get all huffy and go away.”
Jack wore a surprised expression. Dawn continued, “She's very good. And she turned out to be a good teacher too, kind of to everyone’s surprise. She could totally teach you. Although, it looked to me like you've had a little training, just not much practice or any serious fights.”
Jon had to clamp down on his reaction to keep from rolling his eyes and snorting. How could he explain that he had over thirty years of experience in both pinpoint and large scale application of violence? Of course, she was certainly right in one regard, he really needed to practice. Apparently his muscle memory didn't get transferred to his imperfectly cloned body. So he couldn't do what should have been easy. He finally said, “Yeah, you're right, I definitely need more practice.”
In the meantime, Dawn had unbuttoned his shirt and was gently wiping antibiotic on the bruises on his ribs where Billy Bob Dyson's kicks had broken his skin. Then she quite deliberately placed her hand on the middle of his chest, looked him in the eye and said, “Say Jon, I can't help but notice that you have an enormous hard-on.”
He blushed. Yet another humiliation in a day full of humiliations; he thought his blushing circuits had been burnt out decades ago. Evidently that was another consequence of inhabiting a new young body.
“It's all right Jon,” Dawn said gently, “it's no reason to be embarrassed.”
Much to Jon's surprise, she slid her hand down his chest and stomach to his belt where she proceeded to unbutton and unzip his pants. “Hey wait, what are you doing?!” he asked, somewhat belatedly.
“Oh, I thought I'd take care of your little, um, not so little, actually pretty big, uh, problem.”
He started to sit up but she pushed him back down and pulled his pants down to his knees. “Oooh, commando! I like a man who's ready at a moments notice!” Dawn admired Jon's equipment while he wondered about explaining that the reason he had no underwear was because he came in his pants while imagining Dawn naked in Calculus class – no, that would be big negative in the cool column.
Dawn grasped his shaft with her hand and bent down and put her lips to tip and proceeded to move her tongue around and around. She was hesitant and awkward, but enthusiastic. His brain had gone soft in inverse proportion to his hardness, so it didn't occur to him to object anymore. It only took him about twenty seconds after her luscious lips touched the head to come in her mouth. He lay back fully relaxed, while Dawn rushed into the kitchen and spit into the sink and washed her mouth out with water. He was feeling more at ease than he had for days.
Dawn came back, wiping her lips with a paper towel, and said, “I guess that's where the phrase, 'hard-to-swallow'
, came from. And wow Jon, you really needed that! Do you usually pull the trigger that fast? At least you're relaxed now.”
Jon replied, “Umm, yeah, you could say that.” He closed his eyes and nearly fell asleep. Suddenly, he realized who just did him and his relaxation disappeared. Damn
, he thought, I'm a fucking first class pervert! What the hell happened? I can't have a sexual relationship with a high school girl! This isn't right! But if I send her away now, she'll be hurt, and worse, she'll feel humiliated. I can't do
that to her. And after all, it's not like anyone would think I'm actually fifty years old, I don't look it. Even my friends who know who I was act like I'm a teenager now. Oh god, how am I gonna get through this? How do I discourage Dawn without hurting her? But she's so damn beautiful, I don't want to send her away! Crap, I’m truly in deep shit!
Dawn sat on the floor and leaned back against the couch, her head at Jon's waist. “That was, um, interesting,” she said. “The next time – after your bruising has healed – I'll expect some reciprocal action.”
“The next time?” Jon asked.
“Sure, I don't do one night stands. The last guy who did that to Buffy just about died in a fire, and I wouldn't want that to happen to you.”
“Almost died?” Jon was baffled by this. “Who's Buffy?”
“The one who teaches martial arts?”
“Yep, the very one.”
“Okay, well, this won't be a one-time thing then.” They stared at each other for a few moments, then Dawn gave him a quick, artless and slightly sticky kiss and got up to wander around the room. She stopped at Jon's movie collection.
“This is so cool,” said Dawn while checking out Jon's movies. “You have so many DVDs! Not many books, though.” She studied the titles some more and commented, “I didn't know there were this many movies about the Air Force and airplanes. Don't you have anything else?”
“Sure, there's at least a couple of movies about Navy pilots. And at least one about civilian pilots – John Wayne I think. And I have the complete Simpson's
, as well as The Sopranos, The Wire, The Shield
, and I think most of Star Wars
. Oh yeah, and Battlestar Galactica
. The last two were gifts.”
Jon watched Dawn bend down to inspect the DVDs on the bottom shelf and he couldn't help but notice that she had a first class rear end – not too fat, not too thin, it was gorgeous. His penis reacted predictably. He sighed with discontent.
Dawn suddenly exclaimed, “Beatles? Stones? Mamas and Papas? Jefferson Airplane? Aretha Franklin?! Miles Davis? Dave Brubeck? This is all old folks stuff!”
She had found his music CDs. He replied, “What’s wrong with the Beatles? And the Stones are
modern – they’re still playing concerts!”
“Nothings really wrong with most of these, it’s just that you don’t have anything newer. And the Stones? Come on Jon, we’re talkin’ ancient geezers still hogging the spotlight long, looong past their prime. I bet they wear diapers and have false teeth.”
He sighed. What the kids today called music he swore wasn’t even native to Earth – but he had no idea what planet it could
“This is almost exactly like the LP collection our old school librarian had.”
Now that had
to be unfair. “Now wait just a minute! I am not now nor have I ever been a librarian
“To be fair, he’s actually a pretty cool guy. Even Willow’s musician boyfriend thought Giles’ collection was cool. But, like your collection, he doesn’t have anything now
. Nothing really
cool. Not even Bare Naked Ladies
“Oh I like bare naked ladies,” Jon said softly.
Dawn browsed a little further and said with a bemused sidelong glance, “Johnny Cash? Really?”
“Well, you know, I kinda like ol’ Johnny, once in a while anyway.”
“Whatever.” She flipped a few more CDs and stopped in amazement. “Elvis Presley!? This has got
to be a joke! I mean seriously, nobody younger than sixty could possibly listen to crap like this!”
“That was a gift,” from my former father-in-law to my ex-wife
, “from a well-meaning but uncool relative. I would throw it out, but it’s sort of sentimental.”
“Okay, it’s still shrink-wrapped so I’ve no choice but believe you.” Dawn looked at her watch and said, “Oh, I gotta get going or Buffy's gonna be wigged, but you've gotta come down to Buffy's dojo tomorrow, for sure. I think your bruises will be all right by then.”
“Okay, sure,” he said getting up to show her the door, “tomorrow then.”
He watched through the glass as she walked down the sidewalk, her ass gently undulating in time with her steps. He sighed deeply, dropped his pants, and jerked-off, again.
Through tremendous self-control and masturbation between every class, Jon made it though the next day without coming in his underwear. Much to his relief. As embarrassing as it's gonna be,
he thought, I've
got to talk to the doc, this has
got to stop.
After school he walked with Dawn to a city bus stop, they rode to the old downtown area that had escaped gentrification, at least so far, and he followed Dawn into an old building – it must have been built back in the 1940's. He could see traces of old lettering ghosting out from under newer paint that spelled out: GYM – BOXING. But there was a new sign painted on a metal panel above the door that read: Sunnydale Memorial Martial Arts Studio
Judo | Ju Jitsu | Tae Kwan Do | Krav Maga
Classes for All Ages
He heard Dawn say, “Hey Buffy! This is my friend Jon O'Neill. He wants to practice here.”
“Uh, hi Ms. Summers.”
“Call me Buffy.”
“Sure. Buffy,” Jon said. He looked at her and assumed someone was playing an elaborate joke on him. No way was this beautiful short blonde a martial arts instructor – cheerleader, sure; gymnastics was likely, but Karate?
Buffy said, “Why don't you spar with me a little so I can assess your ability.”
“Um, okay, I guess. But I didn't bring any workout clothes or anything.”
“That's all right, just take off your shoes and step over there on the mat. Why don't you do some warm-ups while I check on a class. I'll be back in five.”
He was alone in the main room of the dojo. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make the woodwork in this room perfect. He studied the hard maple wood floor, got down on his hands and knees and checked the reflections from the long lights and nodded appreciatively when he saw that the floor was about as dead perfect flat as it could be. There were no dips from a poorly handled floor sander, no rough sanding marks either. The satin finish was not too slippery and not too shiny. The walls were paneled pine or fir, he wasn't sure which, in a style he hadn't seen before but seemed very Japanese. Even the peaked ceiling was finished in wood with nice wood beams running overhead. He didn't think the beams were structural, but they sure looked like they could've been if the building structure required it.
He kicked off his shoes, stood on the center mat and started some ordinary warm-up exercises, gradually moving towards the practice strikes favored by his old special ops team. But he felt clumsy and uncoordinated. He could only move very slowly as he had to consciously command every muscle group. Nothing was working right and it bugged the hell out of him. He was so intent trying to figure out why he was having so much trouble he barely noticed when the door opened and someone walked in to observe.
“What the hell are you?” an unfamiliar feminine voice asked.
He stumbled and tripped, just barely catching himself from falling to the pads. Looking around he saw a young woman with red hair, her hands on her hips, glaring at him.
“I say again mister, what are you?”
“Uh, what do you mean? My name is Jon O'Neill, I'm a high school senior, a friend of Dawn’s.”
“Well Jon O'Neill, you have a very strange aura. If I look at you with my eyes closed, I'd say you've been around a half-century or so. But when I open my eyes, you look about seventeen. So what's the what, buster!”
Buffy and Dawn had come back by now and heard this last exchange. Buffy's glare was scorching hot as she said, “And this had better be good!”
Jon felt like a trapped animal.
Dawn looked at him sadly, more in sorrow than anger.
Jon said, “It's kind of odd, and, worse, it's mostly classified.”
Storm clouds gathered in Buffy's already severe expression. “Military? Did you get mixed up with those Initiative buttheads?”
“I never heard of the Initiative.” Even though he tried hard to keep his mouth shut, he blurted out, “I’m the clone of an Air Force officer. The cloning was not authorized, it was the result of an enemy action. And that, truly, is all I can say. Mmmph!” He clamped his jaws shut with an iron will and glared.
Willow relaxed and said, “Hmmm, he's telling the truth. He's odd, but probably not dangerous.”
“I'd really like to know how you knew something was odd with me,” Jon asked, more relaxed now that his mouth wasn't trying to run off by itself.
“A clone, huh?” said Buffy.
Dawn's expression cleared right up and she kind of jumped up and down. “Oh, oh, we both have unusual and bizarre origins!”
“So what's your story then, Dawn?”
Buffy interrupted, “It's classified. Maybe you can work your way into our favor, but for now, don't dig, capisce
“Classified?” he said with a heavy frown, “You're not involved with the NID, are you?”
“Never heard of the NID, so that would be a big no,” said Buffy.
“Actually,” said Willow, “I believe the NID was behind the Initiative.”
“Well, I don't know what the NID is, but if they had anything to do with those fu...,” Buffy, glancing at Dawn, decided not to say what she had intended. She just trailed off and said, “They must be evil.”
Jon laughed, “The NID is a civilian agency that is tasked with overseeing certain intelligence and black ops outfits. Most NID agents operate properly and legally but there's a rogue element that operates illegally and without any observable ethics. Unfortunately, sometimes it's hard to tell which side you're dealing with until it's too late.”
“Hmm,” said Willow, “maybe I'd better do some more research.”
Buffy said, “All right Jon, spar with me.”
Buffy slowly took Jon through a variety of moves, observing him, giving him occasional instructions, and watching. Jon observed Buffy just as closely.
It only took Buffy a few minutes to come to a conclusion. “Okay, you know how, but you need practice to get your cloned muscles to obey your brain. Should be easy.”
“I have a question,” said Jon, “how did you
get so good? You move like a true martial arts expert with decades of experience. But you don't get that good unless you devote all your waking hours to practice for decades. And you dress too well to have put in the kind of hours necessary.”
Dawn and Willow laughed. Buffy said, “It's a long and pretty unbelievable story. And we're not going to spill the beans until we know what kind of program you're mixed up in. See, I had to bail out the Army, with the help of my friends, and even then it was a little too close for comfort. When I refused to toe the line, they tried... Well, let’s just say I didn’t care for their attitude. So I get suspicious when the military gets involved.”
Jon said, “Everything about me is all classified. I can't even hint around. Frankly, telling you about the cloning was probably illegal – I really don't know why I said anything. You'd have to be investigated for a security clearance, and that takes time.”
“Actually,” said Buffy, “the government has records on all of us. I might still have some kind of clearance.”
Jon was surprised at that revelation. “Well, maybe, maybe not. I can't make decisions at this level.”
“So for now,” said Dawn, enthusiastically jumping up and down and waving her arms in the air, “practice, practice, practice!”
Jon noticed Dawn's breasts bouncing in her shirt and he came in his underwear.
Buffy asked, “Do you need to use the bathroom? You look a little constipated.”
“So Mr. O'Neal, what can I do for you?”
“Doctor Fraiser, uh, it's kind of personal...”
“I'm a doctor Jon, you can talk to me. We've known each other for years, even if you don't look the same anymore. What's the problem?”
“Uh, it's my, well, I mean – um, hormones...,” he stuttered to a stop.
Janet chuckled softly. “Oh Jon, you're a teenager now, of course your hormone level is going to cause you some discomfort. It's perfectly natural.”
“Doctor Fraiser,” Jon tried again, working hard to keep it formal, “I'm not so decrepit that I've forgotten my teen years from the first time around. There is, without a doubt, something wrong with me! And not to second guess you or anything, but I believe my hormone levels are too high. Way too high, or maybe out of balance, or something like that.”
“Hmmm,” she murmured while studying Jon, “what are the symptoms?”
“Yeah, well, that's the embarrassing part. Can't you just guess from what I said?”
“Guess?” she repeated, astonished he would ask that. “I don't guess, I'm a doctor, a scientist. Now describe for me your symptoms, in detail.”
“Um, well, four-or-five-nocturnal-emissions-every-night,” he said in a rush.
“Four or five,” Jon sighed heavily and turned red, “nocturnal emissions – every night, without fail.”
“I see. What else?”
“Something similar while I'm awake.”
“You mean you have to masturbate several times a day?”
“Dammit Janet! Did you have to say that out loud?” Jon turned several deeper shades of red and started to sweat. Worse, he was getting hard again.
“Jon, look, calm down. I understand that this is embarrassing for you, but I’m a doctor. There is nothing you can say that will embarrass me. I understand the human body, both male and female, and I can help you, but only if you tell me about all
“If I don't, uh – you know – at frequent intervals, then it occurs spontaneously after awhile – every couple of hours, at least. More often in the presence of nubile teenage girls – and for that matter, beautiful women of all ages. They don’t have to be all that beautiful, either.”
“Hmmm. I can see how that might be a problem,” she said, while taking notes.
be a problem? It's utterly humiliating!”
The doctor continued, “And I guess I won’t be inviting you over for dinner with me and Cassie until we get this fixed.”
“Oh kick me while I’m down why dontcha!”
“Sorry, couldn’t help myself. Okay, I'll take blood and urine samples and analyze them, see what we find.” Janet got up and said as she left, “The phlebotomist will be in shortly, just wait here.” The doctor paused a moment, then said, “I'll also need a sperm sample. Will that be a problem?”
Jon coughed and turned an even brighter shade of red. He hadn't thought it possible to be any more embarrassed than he already was, but the doc had found a way. He nodded his head 'yes' while intently studying the tile floor.
“Good. A nurse will be in shortly with a sample vial.”
After producing all the required samples, he stopped by Janet's office and asked, “So what now?”
“Now the lab work gets done, and I'll call you in a week or two with the results.”
“ONE OR TWO WEEKS! What am I gonna do in the meantime?”
“Jon, five to ten working days for this kind of lab work is fast
, it'd be four weeks or maybe several months anywhere else. I can't get the work done sooner because it's not an emergency.”
“Not an emergency?”
“No, you can't actually die of embarrassment. SG-14 and 16 are ahead of you, and you know those results have priority. So go home, buy some adult diapers, and ignore it as best you can.”
“Yeah? How ‘bout all those ads on TV about calling your doctor for erections that last more than four hours?” he blurted out.
“That’s not the same thing, different causes. Besides, you’re able to do something about it, correct? Even if the solution is temporary?”
“Well, yes. But I worry! And the problem’s been noticeably accelerating the last month or so.”
“Stop worrying so much and wait for the lab results. I’ll see you next week.”
He turned away, grumbling quietly. He knew he wasn't at the top of the priority list, but still, he thought he should get faster service than that. After all, how many of Loki's throwaways were there? He was unique! He sighed and went home, pausing at a drug store long enough to buy some K-Y Jelly and condoms. He hoped that would at least solve two of his problems.
“So your doctors gonna fiddle with your hormone level next week?” asked Dawn.
“Yes,” Jon answered glumly.
“So we gotta hurry if we're gonna take advantage of your super powered dick,” said Dawn with a grin.
Jon looked at her in surprise, “What?”
“Drop 'em mister!” she ordered imperiously. “Take off your pants and underwear, on the double!” She was undressing herself at the same time. Jon was shocked and hadn't moved yet.
“Come on, come on! What's the hold-up? Let's get it on!”
Jon’s brains turned to mush as he stared at Dawn's glorious naked body. Looking at her made him helpless, so he dropped trou, slid his jockey shorts down, and stood to attention. Dawn took one step closer and asked, “You know the definition of a limit?”
“Well, uh...,” he said. He couldn’t even remember his name, much less calculus.
“If we keep halving the distance between us,” Dawn continued, “pretty soon we'll be close enough for all practical purposes.” Oh yeah, he’d heard that joke decades earlier, he thought it was perhaps the oldest joke in calculus. Unless it was the only
joke in calculus. He sure didn’t know any others.
Dawn halved the distance between them a few more times until she could reach out with two fingers and just touch Jon's stiff and quivering penis under the head, with a fingertip on each side. She drew her fingers down the shaft an inch or so, then back up until her fingernails scraped the cap. Jon climaxed immediately. Dawn stepped smartly to the side to avoid most of the fountain.
“Um, sorry 'bout that,” said Jon.
“Don't be, how long until you recharge?”
“With your help? A minute or two at most.”
Dawn smiled, “Oh yeah? You got any condoms? If not, I brought a whole box.”
Later, much later, a finally drained Jon exclaimed, “Dammit Dawn! I still feel wrong about this! I'm fifty years old, a full half-century, and you're still a teenager! Not even eighteen yet!”
“Jon, hush. Yes I have the body of a seventeen year old girl, and you have the body of a seventeen year old boy. So we’re both seventeen and that makes it cool. Just think of yourself as a kid – you do have memories that the other Jack doesn’t have now, right?”
“Well, a few months worth now.”
“See? You’re a kid with access to someone else’s memories! Stop thinking of yourself as an older guy and you’ve got it made!”
“Well, I suppose...”
“And look at me, while I only have actual memories of the last two years...”
“What! You're really only two? Now I know
I'm going to hell,” he grumbled.
“...No no no, I'm seventeen, just like you. But what I was going to say, is that in another way of looking at me, I'm actually billions and billions of years old.”
“Just like Carl Sagan.”
“You know, 'billions and billions
' – like Sagan used to say.”
“Never heard of him. Aren't you interested in how I could be that old?”
“Well, it's clear that you must be a de-ascended Ancient.”
“Really? What's that?”
“Oh fuck you and your classified
“I'm sorry Dawnie, but I take that stuff seriously.”
“Okay. Well, it looks like you're ready for more sex. You wanna try doggie style? Or more sixty-nining?” she asked happily. The End
A/N: this started out as a way of exploring issues with mini-Jack that others never seemed to think about. And suggesting ways in which many stories are stuck in a rut. But it descended into a sexual fantasy pretty quick. That wasn’t my original intention at all, (really!) it was the characters and the story that changed direction and dragged me along for the ride. You know how those plots have a mind of their own. Someday, in the far future, there might be a sequel. Assuming anybody at all likes this.