Duke

Posted: September 14, 2011 in Fiction

Before you read this, I feel that I should give fair warning: Adult situations lie ahead. All of my language choices were conscious decisions to stay true to the character. What it boils down to is that there is a specific audience this will appeal to.

The place was little more than an abandoned warehouse he had turned into a studio apartment. The only door was a garage door big enough to drive a freight train through. The cavernous space smelled faintly of motor oil, but it was occasionally overpowered by a burning cigar. The sound of a car chase issued faintly from the surround sound system. The screen that showed the chase was a whitewashed section of wall with a projector splashing light all over it. In front of that wall was a leather recliner. In that recliner sat a nude, heavily muscled giant of a man with both hands on the ass of a stripper. He slid her up and down on his cock and grinned. “Oh yeah, baby. Hail to the King.” She moaned and sqeezed one perfectly tan fake tit.

Duke reached up and squeezed the other, pulling her back so that he could bite on her neck. The wall flickered as the car chase disappeared, replaced with a news caster’s face. “Motherfucker,” Duke growled. “I was watching that.” He let go of the stripper’s ass and groped for the remote. She continued to grind her ass in a figure eight with Duke’s cock in her. Duke couldn’t find the remote. He growled, this time with no words. The stripper’s moaning got louder. Duke bucked against her; if they were gonna ruin his playtime with the news, he damn well wasn’t going to be left with blue balls.

She screamed and arched her back, fake tits bouncing, grasping at the back of Duke’s head behind her. Duke gnawed at her neck, growling, and bucked hard. He pumped her full of cum, shuddered, and growled again. The stripper was cooing softly, still grinding on him. He ignored her. “… armada has been detected, headed for Earth. All armed forces personnel are being recalled to the nearest base. Repeat, an alien armada is bound for Earth.”

“Shit.” Aliens meant war, and war always ended up with Earth losing. Earth losing meant they’d call on him. Fuck it. He was going to save some time this time around. He pushed the stripper off of him. “Hit the shower, babe. I’ve got work to do.” She frowned and batted her eyes. “Gotta save the world. I’ll be back for you later.” He stood up as the woman scampered off across the garage. Duke strode over to his weight stack and grabbed a towel. Sometimes he wondered if it was worth dealing with the government. It wasn’t a terrible deal, but it was so goddamn annoying.

It had seemed insane at first, asking one man to save the women of Earth from aliens. No one could hope to win. Except, Duke Nukem wasn’t one man. More precisely, he was all that is Man. He was a child of the Gods. Not the Roman or Greek or even Norse ones, but the American gods. Lust, Ambition, Rebellion. He was Hercules, born of the id of every working stiff who had ever lived or laughed or loved. Duke loved to feed and fight and fuck, and if ever you stood in the way of another’s ability to do those things, Duke Nukem existed to personally fuck you up.

Duke pulled on his jeans and stepped into his mighty boots. The teeth of countless oppressors had broken under the onslaught of his boots. He pulled on his red tank top. Red didn’t show the blood of the last army of monsters he had ripped apart. These weren’t specially made garments. Duke shopped at the same place everyone else did. He wasn’t bulletproof. He was muscularly hyper-dense, they called it. Even at point blank, artillery could not make it through him. He strapped on his belts, pulled on his leather gloves. He donned his Raybans and ran a gloved hand across his bristling blond flat-top. Duke strode across the cavernous room to a steel closet. He grabbed the double handles and pulled. The doors opened to reveal guns. Lots of them. He reached in and grabbed a pair of chromed pistols. “Time to kick ass and chew bubblegum.” He holstered his pistols and checked his jeans pockets. He did not find any gum.

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