Blue-balled by science fucking. Who knew?

You pull on your boxers and a shirt, then sit down with the girls. Anna, Mara and Stacy are all excited about the 'proof of concept.' Crystal looks about as happy as you feel... which is to say, frustrated and pissed. Charlotte just looks confused.

Still, it's sort of sexy to see the three grad students going at it, correlating their data, compiling the exact moment when the needle began to spin, the water began to tremble, and the USGS reported a tiny earthquake... magnitude one... so small it almost wasn't there.

"Except it was there," Mara concludes. "Or rather, it was here."

"Uh, great," Crystal says. "But you'll note that my bank account remains pitifully small."

"You need work with Stacy on language structure," Anna proclaims. "Get language right, you get such money."

You look between the girls. A part of you wants to celebrate with them. A part wants to get laid somehow, by any or all of them, and another part, the part you've been trying to silence, is screaming that you're playing with power you have no understanding of, and that next time you'll bring down the Sierras on top of you rather than just trembling some water.

Charlotte seems to read your tension and sits next to you on the bed. "It's okay, babe," she promises. "They'll let you finish later. In the meantime, want a little hand action?"

Hell, yeah.

Except Stacy shakes her head. "It's too close. Those powers you gathered may still be assembled. Better let them subside back into the earth before risking it."

"What?" you demand. "Are you seriously blue-balling me for the foreseeable future?" Admittedly you spent too much of your life not getting any sexy action but you'd convinced yourself that was over. Now, when you're surrounded by hot women all of whom you've balled and all of whom seemed to enjoy the hell out of the experience, you're getting edged with no happy ending.

"We'll substitute one of the other girls in a couple of hours. See if we can replicate the experiment with a different female. We need to make sure it's not some particular subtonality in Crystal's moaning."

"My moaning is fine," Crystal claims. "And Mike isn't the only one who needs a little completion."

"We eat something now," Anna proclaims. "Then Mike science-fuck Stacy. See if get little earthquake or maybe such money."

"Eat what?" Mara demands. "We've got nothing."

"Pizza," Anna says. "Food of gods."

Well, you can't disagree with that.

"We get delivery," she continues. "No need for putting on of clothes."

You can't disagree with that, either, assuming you can find a place that delivers for cash rather than requiring a credit card because one thing you don't want to do is leave a credit card record for Microstuff to track you by.