Neo stared at the two pills in Morpheus' hands, heart racing. Was this some kind of trick? He began to reach out for the red one, but something stopped him, and he picked up the blue one instead. Did Morpheus' smile get a little wider, or was it just his imagination? With trepidation, Neo swallowed the innocuous pill. He sat there for a few seconds, feeling nothing. Was that it? He let out a sigh of relief; he had been all worked up over nothing. Then his head hit the floor. Somehow, between one thought and the next, he had lost all control of his body and it had slid limply to the floor like an overcooked noodle. His brain felt fuzzy and he couldn't move any of his limbs, he couldn't even blink. His vision narrowed until all he could see was Morpheus' face hovering above him. Morpheus' mouth split into a lewd grin.
"As I said, Neo, you will wake up tomorrow and this will all be a dream…"
Morpheus looked down at the helpless hacker. He bent down and traced a dark finger along the boy's pale jaw. Oh yes, this was going to be fun…
"Trinity? Could you be a dear and give me and young Neo here a moment alone?"
"Of course, sir."
Morpheus watched her go, tightly wrapped in dark leather. It was such a shame that she wasn't a man. After the doors closed, Morpheus returned his attention to the helpless Neo.
"You know the interesting thing about the male body?" Morpheus asked as he bent down and began rubbing Neo's crotch. "It responds to stimulus regardless of arousal." He whispered huskily into Neo's ear.
Sure enough, under Morpheus' skilled care, Neo's George Washington was beginning to rise.
"Please…" Neo managed to gasp.
"Sh-sh-shhhh…" hushed Morpheus, placing his finger on Neo's pink lips. "Don't ruin this."
Neo had never felt so helpless in his life. He couldn't move no matter how much he struggled, and now Morpheus was leaning in for a kiss, his chocolate lips parting slightly as they zeroed in on his own. The worst part was, there was a part of Neo that wanted it. Morpheus definitely knew how to take care of a John Adams, and his hadn't been used in such a long time…Neo felt Morpheus' tongue invade his mouth like the Greeks at Troy. And it felt wonderful. Morpheus seemed to sense his desire, and he broke the kiss. Staring into the mirrored reflection of his ridiculous sunglasses, Neo heard him say, "Do not try and fight the drug. That's impossible. Instead…only try to realize the truth."
"The truth?"
Morpheus leaned in close again, "There is no drug. Then you'll see, it's not the drug that's limiting you, only yourself."
Slowly, Neo reached his arm out and began to fondle Morpheus' Thomas Jefferson through his pants.
Morpheus smiled. "You learn quickly."
They leaned in and kissed once more, tongues dancing like a pair of strippers being held at gunpoint by Colombian druglords and being told to dance or die. Neo eased off Morpheus' coat, then his shirt, revealing the chocolatey goodness hidden underneath. He ran hand across the smooth black skin, and let out a moan as Morpheus nibbled on his neck. Neo's shirt was next to come off, and Morpheus left a trail of kisses down his pale stomach. Morpheus reached Neo's pantline and paused, looking back up at him and grinned. It was time to release James Madison from his cage. Morpheus unbuttoned Neo's pants with his teeth, which only served to increase Neo's excitement. With a cry, Neo's James Monroe burst forth like a glorious phallic butterfly, new and beautiful and ready to take on the world. Morpheus lunged at it like a velociraptor, engulfing it in its entirety. Neo let out a moan of pleasure as Morpheus' skilled tongue twirled around and his head bobbed up in down like some sort of obscene blow-job giving bobble head. Neo was in heaven. He was pretty sure that his John Quincy Adams had never felt this good. Just as he thought his Andrew Jackson was going to lose it, Morpheus backed off. Flashing another sinister grin, he stood up and unbuttoned his pants.
"My turn." He said, letting his pants drop.
Neo gasped. Looming before him was the largest Martin Van Buren he had ever seen. It was thick and veiny and dark as night. A little frightened, Neo gently reached out his hand to touch the William Henry Harrison, like a timid 12-year-old school girl named Ashley who's science teacher told her she had to or she was going to fail biology, which she absolutely couldn't, because she had already failed once and Susie Q's big birthday bash was coming up, and everybody was going to be there, and if she got a bad grade there was no way her parents were going to let her go.
"There's no need to be afraid," said Morpheus, taking Neo's hand in a firm grasp and showing him how to rub his John Tyler.
"It's…It's just so…big." Said Neo, still in awe.
Presently, Neo began to get a little more comfortable with Morpheus' James K. Polk, and began to stroke a little faster.
"Ah…yess…you're a natural." Morpheus moaned.
Growing more confident, Neo reached out with his other hand and cupped Morpheus' big black Zachary Taylors with his other hand, while still furiously pumping his Millard Fillmore with the other.
Morpheus couldn't take it anymore. He reached out his hand and grabbed Neo by the back of his head and slammed his face into Morpheus' Franklin Pierce. Neo barely got a quarter of it in before he felt it hitting the back of his throat. Morpheus' James Buchanan filled his mouth to the brim, his jaws hurt from being stretched so wide. Morpheus, now with both hands on Neo's head, began to pump his Abraham Lincoln slowly in and out of Neo's mouth. Neo tried to pull away, tried to tell Morpheus that his Andrew Johnson was just too big, but all he could do was drool like an idiot and try not to choke.
"Yeah! You like that? You like my Ulysses S. Grant in your mouth?" cried out Morpheus, pumping furiously now.
Neo could only gurgle as the giant Rutherford B. Hayes slid down his throat. With one more mighty thrust, Morpheus let out a cry and tossed Neo off of his James A. Garfield. Neo lay there for several seconds gasping for air, dry heaving and spitting out thick strands of saliva. Through tear-blurred eyes, he looked up at Morpheus.
"Tears are a good look for you," said Morpheus, "let's make some more."
Before Neo could react, Morpheus had flipped him stomach down onto the chair, leaving his pale bottom sticking straight into the air.
"I think you know what comes next," said Morpheus, positioning his Chester A. Arthur behind him.
"Please, no…" whimpered Neo, but Morpheus paid no heed. Without any further ceremony, Morpheus rammed his Grover Cleveland straight up Neo's Benjamin Harrison. Neo had never felt pain like that William McKinley entering him. He felt the sides of his Theodore Roosevelt tear to try and accommodate the sheer size of it, and Morpheus simply used the blood as lube, thrusting merrily away. Each movement of that William Taft was sheer agony for Neo. Tears streaming down his face, he almost passed out. Morpheus picked up speed like a runaway train headed toward an orphanage. This Woodrow Wilson was a blur of motion like the Flash, but black and a penis. With an earthshattering cry, his Warren G. Harding finally gave up its term. Neo felt the campaign money fill him, distending his stomach in an endless torrent gushing from Morpheus' Calvin Coolidge like a great geyser. When his Herbert Hoover finally removed itself from Neo's Franklin D. Roosevelt with a wet pop, a steady stream of blood and semen flowed out of Neo, not unlike what probably happened to Ashley in that previous analogy. Neo simply lay there, spent.
"Aw, my poor baby," Morpheus cooed, laying a trail of kisses down Neo's back. Neo wasn't in the mood. The immense pain Morpheus' Harry S. Truman had caused his Dwight D. Eisenhower to lose its election. Morpheus pressed his ebony body against Neo's and reached around to begin playing with his limp John F. Kennedy. Although Neo tried to shake him off, he persisted, and pretty soon Neo's Lyndon B. Johnson was back at fighting power. Morpheus then slid down to his knees and began giving that Richard Nixon some chocolate loving. It wasn't long before Morpheus' skillful administrations had Neo pumping his Gerald Ford up against Morpheus' mouth in a beautiful ballet of carnal poetry. Morpheus knew how to treat a Jimmy Carter, and Neo's Ronald Regan appreciated it. His George W. H. Bush might still be sore and bleeding, but with how good his Bill Clinton was feeling at the moment, Neo was liable to forgive Morpheus' earlier transgressions. With a cry, Neo's George W. Bush finally found release, spewing his war on terror all over Morpheus' face. Afterward, they cuddled together naked on the cold floor, their Barack Obamas gently touching like palm trees swaying in the wind.
The next morning, Neo woke up in his bed, naked, sore, and bleeding and he couldn't for the life of him figure out why. Somewhere else, on the other side of the Matrix, Morpheus leaned back with a wide grin, smoking a cigarette. This had been the fourth time he had offered Neo the choice, and the fourth time Neo had picked the blue one. He couldn't wait for tomorrow.