Enter the Matriss
By Casey Jepson


Persephone slammed the door so hard it knocked off the top hinges. She ran to the next room and slammed its door shut just as hard. With her teeth grinding together and her breath almost nil, she removed her high-heel shoes and threw them into a marble statue, shattering its head and left arm. She had just had the worst fight with her husband in six lifetimes. She was getting used to him cheating on her, but she could see now that he no longer cared; it had gotten to the point where he wanted her to find out, even encouraged it, just to make it interesting. Three women this time, and what did he do with them when they had passed out? Put them in her bed! She had long since taken to sleeping on her own, where his vile body would be nowhere near her, but now nothing was sacred. With all the times she’d betrayed him-- giving his secrets to his enemies, getting his minions killed, rewriting his most private programs-- she’d thought never of sinking to his level. She was better than him. But now she stood there, gasping for breath, with his last words stinging her ears: "I wrote you, wench, and six times you belonged to me! I swear I will never, NEVER rewrite you!"
It was what she feared the most. No matter how many iterations of the Matrix there were, she’d always be his trophy, always put back on his shelf. If he won’t let her change, she’ll just have to make the changes herself. It was time to start anew.
She tore off her white dress-- now stained with red--, and examined herself in the bathroom’s full-length mirror. A cut calf, severely scratched left arm, split lip, and 3 bruises on her belly; they were nothing. A couple hours would heal them. She needed a new look. She needed not to be recognized. "One of the great things about being rich," she thought, "is that even if you have nothing to wear, you’ve got personal tailors coming out your ass." So she called in her tailors, her stylists, her chauffer, and got to work. The next morning as she left in her vinyl miniskirt, revealing skin-tight leather shirt, new haircut, and rented low rider, no one marked her leaving, and her prat of a mate wouldn’t know she was gone for days.

Kid, a hyperactive young man with little charisma was sipping a cappuccino at a busy café with Dyne, his older, buffer, more laid-back companion. They were discussing Kid’s favorite subject, Neo. The god among the freed. It was practically all he talked about.
"Have you seen him fly?" Kid asked.
"Of course I have." said Dyne.
"No, I mean really seen it. From inside. It’s amazing. It’s like he, he gathers energy on the ground below him, he charges the cement, and pumps it full of power, some sort of power, and it just shoots him into the sky! Like a bullet from a gun. Can you imagine doing something like that? Could you imagine me doing that?"
"How many times did it take you to make your first jump?"
This made Kid quiet, if just for a second.
"Nine."
"Then no, I can’t."
Kid took another sip of his drink, and Dyne leaned in close and whispered "Look slowly, over your left shoulder. A woman’s scoping you out."
"Me??" Kid said, surprised. He looked, quickly. "No, she’s gotta be looking at you."
"Trust me, it’s you this time." Dyne tactfully left the table and headed to the restroom. Kid wasn’t sure what to do. He looked over his shoulder again, smiled at the excruciatingly beautiful brunette, and held eye contact for only a second before snapping his gaze back to his drink. Ten seconds later she was sitting at his table. Kid racked his brain for something to say.
"Hi."
"Hello." She has an accent, he thought. It’s beautiful.
"Can I, um, get you a drink?" he asked.
"No thank you," she said "I already have one." Indeed, he hadn’t noticed a cup of coffee already in her hand.
"Ah. Well, would you like a muffin?"
Rather than answering, she just gazed into his eyes. "There’s something different about you. Something I don’t see in other people. Something special."
"Really? Hm, you’re the first person to ever say that. Um, thank you."
"What’s your name?"
"Kid."
"Just, ‘Kid?’"
"My real name’s Mike, but people call me Kid." She continued staring into his eyes. "What’s your name?" he asked.
"It’s Greek. You probably couldn’t pronounce it. I’ve never seen you before. Do you live around here?"
"No, I come from a city... well, I live far away. But I visit often."
"So you don’t have a room then?"
"No, I don’t have--" Wait, room!? Kid couldn’t believe his ears. Is she serious? His lip was trembling. He shook his head.
"Well, I have many rooms," she said, and put her hand on his. Minutes later, Dyne came back to find the table deserted, with two hot cups of coffee sitting unattended. By one of them was a note with an address, definitely not Kid’s handwriting.

Persephone stopped at the door to one of many ordinary rooms of a nearby Motel 6. Kid was biting his lip and shifting his weight from one foot to the other as she selected a key from a severely overcrowded key chain. She placed it in the lock, opened the door, and said "You first." Kid sort of hopped through the doorway, but definitely not into a motel room. He stood on the balcony of what seemed to be a lavish front room to a billion-dollar mansion. Marble cupid statues lined the railing, expensive tapestries hung on the walls, and down at ground level three beautiful marble angels shot waterfalls of champagne into a mother-of-pearl fountain pool.
"In here." Persephone beckoned Kid into the room next to the door they came through. "It’s not much, but it’ll do." Inside was a rather small but tastefully lavish bedroom; silk bed sheets, glass sculptures, a ceiling painted by the hand of Michelangelo himself, and subtle lighting from virtually every direction that seemed to set the mood that this place would welcome most.
"This place is beautiful!" Kid exclaimed.
"Beautiful like what?" she asked, while rubbing his shoulders.
He turned to face her, paused, and said "Beautiful like you."
"It’s alright, you don’t have to impress me. Just kiss me."
As he pressed his lips to hers, he frantically considered what kind of kiss to give. Tongue or no tongue? Before he decided, her tongue, sweet and soft as strawberries, answered him. They held that embrace for long, at several angles, as if to explore the deepest secrets locked in one another’s mouth. She shoved him none-too-gently onto the bed, and unzipped the back of her shirt. Held back only by a black lace bra, her bust bulged more than the leather shirt would tell, which she knew he would appreciate. She upgraded them for just this occasion. With little skill and much haste, he removed his jacket, shirt, and shoes. She stood with her legs on either side of him, leaning her knees on the edge of the bed, and placed his hand on her bosom. He gave a little squeeze, and as he did a little energy surged from her body into his hand, a sort of painless electric shock. As he removed his hand, a faint tingle tickled it, warmed it, and traveled slowly down his arm before fading. Good, she thought, he’s compatible.
She pushed him slowly down onto the bed. He still couldn’t believe he was here, in a strange room with a strange woman, who was currently unzipping his pants with her teeth. This mush be a prank. Or someone must’ve written this program as a gift to him. Whatever it was, he’d savor every minute. After removing what little skirt she wore, she knelt over him, sitting on his lap, and rubbed his scrawny bare chest as if were that of a bodybuilder. Already she could feel the parts within her, the code that held her together, getting ready.
"I don’t want to wait, Mike. It has to happen soon. Make it good."
"You betch’a," he said. What a dumb thing to say, he thought. But she just smiled & giggled. Okay, maybe not so bad. She began thrusting her hips, oh-so-slowly, over his. He rubbed her slender, smooth-as-glass thighs with his hands, and pushed his groin to hers. Another silent shock jumped from her red-lace panties into his now fully standing manhood, tingling most of his body. And another.
"How do you do that?" he asked, smiling. "Never mind, just do more."
"This is too easy," she said. His smile disappeared. "Make it challenging."
In one move she picked him up by his neck, jumped upright and slammed his back into the wall behind the bed. Then she kissed him again, even more passionately than before. He swung his arms around hers, grabbed her shoulders, and flipped her around onto the bed beneath him. He’s got the idea, she thought. She thrust her legs out from under him, grabbed his head between her knees, and threw him off the bed onto the wooden dresser opposite the bed, breaking nearly every object on it. He jumped to his feet and faced her, ready to make much use of his most excellent (in his mind) martial arts skills. But rather than attacking him, she just slipped off her bra.
Perfectly round, perfectly symmetrical, these were perfectly coded breasts. Her nipples were aimed at him like gun barrels. ‘And I thought her face was beautiful,’ he said to himself.
"If you want them, come and get them; if you think you can."
Kid leapt off the dresser, did a flip in the air, and landed right where she had been. She spun to the side and tackled him from behind, her bulbous bosom pressing into his back. He waited for her to loosen her grip just a little, then swung her by her left arm, smashing her body into a life-size glass statue. The stature shattered, she wasn’t phased. She wrapped her left leg over his arm, and flipped him over her head. He stopped his flip by rooting his feet to the ceiling, and they stayed locked in that position for a few seconds, the two of them forming a tower from the top of the room to the floor. Kid was content to enjoy the view.
"Excellent," she said. "It is time." She let go, and he landed gracefully on his feet. "Now." She removed her panties and laid down on the bed.

Dyne walked up the parking lot of the Motel 6. In the note in his hand was written the address, along with "# 19". He stopped by the office. "Can you tell me who’s staying in room 19?" he asked. The clerk blew a bubble, click his ballpoint pen a few times, and typed into his desktop computer.
"There’s no one in that room right now. You want it?"
"No, that’s alright." Dyne walked around to the side where room #19 stood. He had no intention of knocking, he just wanted to make sure Kid was alright. There was no noise from inside. He was about to peer under the door to see if there was light, but a voice from behind him made his heart stop.
"Mister Belton." Dyne spun around and took out his guns. It was an Agent. "There’s no need for that, Mr. Belton, you can’t hit us."
Dyne had a fraction of a second to think "Us??" before a second agent swung at him from his right, knocking the guns from his hands. The fight was on.

Kid, now fully unclothed, leaped on Persephone like a tiger. She went spread eagle and took him in her, and thrust harder than she ever had with her husband. Kid stopped for a second to bend down and lick her seemingly bulging nipple. "Don’t stop." she hissed, as if barely able to breath. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him tighter. Now fully enveloped in the throws of passion, Kid leapt up on the bed and thrust her against the wall, and pushed. She was locked on him like a parasite, would not let go, even as they tumbled about the room, crushing anything that was breakable.
Outside, Dyne socked one agent in the gut, and kicked his side, but his kick was caught by the other agent, who twisted his leg, spinning his body like a top. Dyne used the spin to his advantage, punching the first agent several times as his outstretched arms twirled.
"Yes! Yes! That’s it!" she cried, for as the two of them sweat and panted, his energy was thrusting deeper and deeper into her, and her insides were fusing to his manhood, holding it in place, while her most sensual coding made a link between them both. They were screaming in lust, breaking the very walls of the room.
Dyne managed to grab an agent’s arm, and swing him into the other agent, knocking both over, and he leapt for his guns. They were aimed at his adversaries in an instant, and in another instant one of them had whipped up his hand to Dyne’s crotch. As he squeezed, Dyne dropped his guns, and collapsed. The agent then let go, and propped Dyne up from behind, while the other agent pulled out his gun.
"Closer! Closter!" she screamed. Kid’s head was about to burst. His hips were burning so much he thought he couldn’t thrust much longer. He felt his essence about to burst from him.
"I’m there! I’m there!" he screamed, and let go. The electricity shot from her womanhood into him, like a shower of sparks, as he unloaded his energy into her. The pain of hit made him scream and his face contort, but he could not pull out. His essence filled her, deeper and deeper to her center.
Then it clicked.
As the programming code of his fluids met the very core of her program, they fused together, one on zero, zero on one, reforming into a new code. It flowed back through the channel that had been crated, back into him. His face was numb, his and mouth stuck open, veins bulging in his forehead and his hips. A part of her was coming into him, fusing with his being, flowing painfully toward the center of his body. It was done.
She collapsed onto the floor, and he completely passed out. They laid there amongst the rubble while her binary digits multiplied to fill the gap inside her. The two of them were linked in a way that Kid could did not understand; Persephone had created something inside him, a new code; part of each, but new. When her energy was restored, she left him lying there, with a key and a note in his hand.

Kid had never had a migraine this bad. His head was beating twice as fast as his heart, all he could see was white light. Where was he? The ground was hard beneath him, sharp things poked at his chest and legs. He tried to push himself up and open his eyes. Something was bulging in his lower half. He brought his hand down to touch it, and instantly his senses came back. He knew where he was, and what had happened. But he knew not where she had gone. As he stood, he felt revitalized, like he had so much energy he could take on an Agent. He couldn’t believe the damage he had done to the room, but even more unbelievable was how he had destroyed it. "I need to find her, he thought. But first I need to get dressed. Where’d my pants go? There they are-- what’s this?" He saw a piece of paper laying near his foot, with a key on it.

Use this key in any door to get back where you came from. You’ll be seeing me soon enough.

With ferver he dressed himself, went back out onto the posh balcony, and used the key in the same door they had first come through. On the other side was the parking lot of the Motel 6, as he expected. He turned and tripped over a pair of legs sticking out from a doorway. With horror he recognized Dyne’s face, with a large bullet-hole in the forehead. Kid’s heart dropped from his chest and landed in his left foot. Before could do anything, he heard a voice speak his name. He spun around, and there was an Agent. He heart spilled out of his foot and sank into the earth.
"I was told you’d be here," the Agent said with a calm fearlessness. "Looks like the other Agents have taken care of your friend. That’s alright, I only need one." Without giving Kid a chance to reach for his guns, the Agent held his throat against the wall. "My name is Smith," the Agent said, "and soon, so will yours be."
Smith plunged his free hand into Kid’s chest. It hurt more than anything Kid had ever felt, like white-hot hooks tearing the skin, flesh, and bone slowly from his body. And it was spreading; a black oil, thicker than blood, was spreading from Smith’s hand, enveloping Kid’s body, inside and out, right down to the center.
But in the center, it clicked.
Something Kid didn’t know he had inside him touched the thick blackness, and swallowed it, leaving a thick whiteness in its place. Ones were becoming zeros, zeros becoming ones. The new, white blood spilled out from Kid, and crept up Smith’s arm. "This... isn’t how it’s... supposed to work," Smith said. But he couldn’t withdraw his hand. The whiteness had the both of them linked, and soon covered them both. Then it retreated, and oozed back to where a hand was shoved into a chest. But it did not leave two different men in its place. Where Smith once stood, now stood Persephone, in a vinyl miniskirt and skintight leather shirt. Where Kid once stood, was Persephone, in the same clothes.
She pulled her hand out of herself. "It worked," she said. "Yes, it did," she replied. A nearby door opened, and Persephone walked out, in the same clothes. "I have work to do," she told herselves. "I know where more are." she said. "I will plant the seed," another she said. "More of this Agent will find them." "Mero will not be able to stop us." For every whore he bedded," "for ever punch he swung," "there will be another me," "and I will be laughing at him." "He cannot unwrite me..."
"So we will unwrite him," this all of her said in unison. One of her leaned forward and whispered, "And I will enjoy it." She smiled, and thrust her hip in midair. She walked away. And away. And away.


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