by Cameron Hale
The man gaped at the tantalizing array of female charms hovering above him. After several false starts, his vocal cords finally obeyed. “Hey!” he muttered hoarsely. “Give a man a chance to breathe!”
Stunned silence ensued, followed by the excited clicking and purring of the women in their native tongue.
Martika snatched a translator patch from a nearby monitor and affixed it to her temple. “Computer, see to it that everyone is equipped with translators. Communication is vital!”
The man started to rise and was instantly assisted by a flock of hands. He shook his head disbelievingly and pinched himself, confirming that he was indeed alive and very much conscious.
Martika seized his hand, her own dwarfing it. “On behalf of the Daughters of Vargrys,” she said in flawless English, “welcome aboard! I am Commander Martika Nu-Sadar of the scout ship Brundhor, and this is my crew, Sub-Commander Vydya Nu-Frael…”
* * *
The introductions droned into background noise as the man took stock of his situation and studied the well-endowed, lilac-hued women towering above him. By God, they were formidable! he thought, feeling the limitations of his six-foot frame. He studied their serpentine eyes and elaborately lacquered hair, unable to suppress a slight revulsion at their gleaming leathery skin. A sudden image of ostriches filled his mind. He struggled to suppress his laughter and initiated instead a violent coughing fit.
“Ladies!” Computer cried. “Enough is enough! Mistress, will you please remove your crew and allow this wretched creature a chance to properly recover? He will need nourishment and rest. I take no responsibility for his welfare if this unacceptable behavior continues.”
Martika glanced at the struggling man and reluctantly hustled the women out. “By the way, Computer, I forgot to ask. Does he have a name?”
Computer sniffed. “I’m not surprised you forgot, Mistress, considering the way you were all pawing him like a museum exhibit. His name is Captain Jack Singer of the Earth deep space probe Andromache.”
“Really?” she mused, lewdly winking at Computer. “I wonder what the dashing captain was supposed to be probing?”
“No doubt you’ll find out,” Computer retorted out of earshot.
* * *
The pale aquamarine glow of the cabin was the first thing Jack Singer noticed when he awoke in a comfortable facsimile of a bed. Exotic sea creatures undulated in a walled aquarium, lending a surreal atmosphere to a room decorated with colorful frescoes of a boldly defined hermaphroditic deity. Noticing that he was naked, he rose in search of some clothing. Woven with the fragility of a cobweb, the silken sheet clung tenaciously, lovingly engulfing his erection.
“You’re as bad as the women around here,” he mumbled, uselessly struggling to extricate the stubborn sheet from the crevice of his ass.
At that moment, the door slid open, revealing Jack in his glory to a stunned Martika. He fumbled awkwardly with the sheet as she glided in, dressed only in a shimmering scrap of diaphanous material.
“Can’t you knock before barging into someone’s room?” he stammered, noticing her eyes fixed hungrily on his cock.
She grinned coyly, the translator sparkling like a jewel on her temple. “You’ll have to forgive me if I’ve embarrassed you. Our ways are very uninhibited, as you’ll soon discover.” She perched on the swanlike stool of a fully stocked bar, temporarily blocking the aquarium and Computer’s secretly commandeered security monitor.
“Care for a drink, Captain? We have some fine Taurealian brandy. Guaranteed to loosen all inhibitions.” She poured the fiery ruby liquid from a slender decanter into two artfully twisted glasses and approached the bed while Jack burrowed under the stubbornly clinging covers.
“I don’t know whether it’s a good idea, uh, Commander…”
“Call me Martika, please.”
“Very well, uh, Martika, if you call me Jack. What I mean is that my system may not be able to cope with alcohol yet. I need to give my body time to adjust.” He balked, alarmed by the feral look in her eyes as she set the glasses down on a nearby table.
“Nonsense!” she muttered thickly, gulping her drink and ripping the sheet off his body. For a moment, she looked almost ill as she studied his superbly chiseled physique.
He cowered, grinning foolishly. “They can do wonders with suspended animation, you know. Even down to preserving muscle tone.”
A flick of Martika’s razor-edged fingernail sent her wispy garment fluttering to the floor. Jack’s grin froze when he caught sight of a suspicious tongue-like object dangling from a curious fan shaped cunt between her formidably muscled legs. In the gauzy light, it was difficult to identify exactly what it was.
“Oh, no,” he muttered, pressing himself against the cushioned wall. “Really, I don’t think this is a good¾”
“There are ways of preserving muscle tone on Vargrys that you’ve never even dreamed of,” she whispered, easily pulling him down and pinning him on the bed between her thighs. The tongue trembled, coiled around his fading hard-on and began to gently vibrate. Cupping his balls with her hands, she inspected them closely. Jack squirmed in protest, but was no match for her strength.
“Fascinating species,” she murmured. “I’ve favored many males and androgynes, of course, but not yet one that carries such delicate organs outside the body.” In a single fluid motion, she crouched down and sucked them inside her mouth.
Jack flinched, the protest forming on his lips stifled as she released his curiously stinging balls and straightened. Between her thighs, the tongue slowly guided his cock into her cunt. She caressed her swollen fan-shaped lips that slowly turned a deep russet and lowered her massive breasts over Jack’s face. Reaching for them, she stuffed the turgid nipples into his mouth, his eyes widening in surprise.
She chuckled and forced her nipples deeper into his mouth. “Merely a mild stimulant. Nothing to be concerned about.”
His worried glance shot to his cock, balls and the tongue sucked up by the powerful contractions of her cunt.
“Really, Jack,” she said, running her fingers through his hair, “I already told you there is nothing to worry about. You will find the sensation of manshir quite extraordinary…”
Somewhere deep within the shipboard system, another one of Computer’s circuits fused.
* * *
Three days later, Jack Singer was a desperate man. Barricaded inside a supply room, he refused to obey the pleadings of Sub-Commander Vydya. His rudimentary search revealed no means of escape, but at least he could enjoy a few moments of peace. He thought wistfully of his last mission on the Andromache, a journey of exploration and contact with worlds and cultures beyond Earth’s solar system. He shook his head. The mission had been a landmark, the first contacts historical events that catapulted his career into dizzying heights.
Everything had changed drastically in the face of a micrometeorite shower that damaged the engines en route to the Delsystri homeworld. His crew of seven managed to abandon ship in the evac pods, but he had stayed behind in an attempt to stem an impending meltdown in the fusion generator. His efforts proved futile, the ensuing explosion fatally damaging the remaining evac pod. Left with no alternative but to seek refuge in a hiberchamber, he assumed that Earth would eventually receive the distress signal. Never had he entertained the notion that he would be rescued and held captive by an alien race…
Unless more time than he dared imagine had passed, and that the Earth he once knew was lost in the past. He shuddered. None of these damned females would reveal any information about his situation, and the stubborn gnawing in his gut only confirmed his suspicions.
Vydya pounded impatiently on the door. “You mustn’t hide from me, Jack. “It’s my turn now. The Commander has had you the allocated time.”
“I don’t give a damn whose turn it is!” he shouted, his cock, and body in general, still reeling from Martika’s insatiable sexual appetite. Forced to consume the fiery brandy that he suspected was spiked, his cock h
ad remained hard for so long that it became painful. “I’m not going to be manhandled by the crew under your corrupt definition of hospitality! Back where I come from, there are laws against this kind of thing!”
“But exactly what is the problem?” Vydya asked. “There are only eighteen of us. Favoring is an untold honor that any male guest would receive on our ship. Do you find us undesirable?” She lowered her voice. “Perhaps you prefer your own sex? That could be arranged. We have an excellent assortment of implements from many worlds…”
Jack exploded. “That’s it! Just tell that nymphomaniac you call a commander that if she can’t get my ship functioning, she can drop me off at the nearest planet, station, or asteroid, I don’t care. I’m not going to be used as breeding stock for an entire planet of multi-gender freaks!”
Vydya laughed. “Ah, now I see. Jack, let me assure you, we are definitely of the female gender. And we don’t expect you to individually fertilize all the women of Vargrys. Only a chosen few will be favored by you. The rest will be artificially inseminated at the appropriate time. This has been our way for countless cycles. I don’t see…”
“Get me out of here!” Jack cried, pounding at the door. “Get me off this fucking ship! Now!”
“Fucking ship?” she asked in puzzlement, her translator furiously blinking. “This term doesn’t appear to translate. Perhaps you can clarify…”
A suspicious clattering emanated from the supply room. Pursing her lips, she reached for the control panel situated next to the door and overrode the lock. A moment later, the door slid open, revealing a startled Jack in the process of barricading the door with a number of canisters. Before he could react, Vydya barged through the flimsy defense and straddled him where he stood. The robust brunette raised a silver faceted bottle in her hand.
“Erosian oil,” she said, splashing a few bitter drops on Jack’s lips. He struggled feebly, but could not resist the powerful arms that pinioned him to the floor and quickly stripped him naked. “This essence should keep you going an entire cycle. Now, forget about the Commander. She is notorious for her aggression. However, that is not my way.” She smiled and yanked off the mesh crotch of her corselet, releasing the tongue-like object eagerly wagging from her swollen sex. Positioning herself above his flaccid cock, she lowered herself until the tongue gripped it and began rhythmically stroking. With the long, triple-jointed fingers of one hand she cupped his balls while her other fingers strayed into the crack of his ass.
Jack squirmed helplessly beneath her as she penetrated his anus.
“Interesting,” she gasped as the tongue guided his stiffening cock inside her. “Perhaps we can try some of those implements after all…”
* * *
Back at the helm, Martika irritably scanned Computer’s circuits from the main panel. “I’m warning you, Computer. If you don’t stop this insubordination, I’ll be forced to have you replaced.”
Computer chuckled lewdly and continued to transmit the garbled rutting sounds from the supply room. The symphonic crescendo of moaning and panting resounded off the walls.
“The human is obviously unfit for Vargrysian women, Mistress,” Computer said with contempt. “Why not drop him off as he so pitifully requests? Is this the kind of breeding stock desired by your noble race?”
With a disappointed sigh, Martika abandoned her task and slumped in her seat. “You could be right, Computer. His stamina wouldn’t survive the crew, let alone the Council of Elder Daughters. His member is a generous size even by our standards, but I have to admit I was disappointed that I had to administer several aphrodisiacs to keep him erect for even a few hours. Perhaps he would be better suited to a more docile breed.”
She halfheartedly scanned the sector charts and shrugged. “Well, we’re within easy distance of two outstations. I suppose I should contact delegates from his world. No doubt they’ll be eager to welcome him home after such a prolonged absence. I’ll leave it to you to plot the course, Computer, and also to arrange transfer of his vessel. I imagine their scientists will want to study the relic.” She sighed. “I suppose I’d better break the news to the crew, though I know they won’t be happy. They’d all expected to favor him, which is their right. They’re hopelessly bored with the Skronian mannequins, you know. Maybe you could augment the mechanics a bit?”
“With pleasure, Mistress,” Computer said. “In exchange, perhaps I could be allowed to participate on occasion…”
“No, and that’s final! Now plot that course!”
* * *
The sight of the approaching space station filled Jack with immense relief. He admired the sweeping curves of the glittering double helix and the daunting array of docked spacecraft, impressed by the display of advanced human technology. Dressed in uniform, he watched from the ship’s viewport as the docking bay yawned open with the tantalizing promise of freedom.
Martika had contacted the station’s commander, explaining Jack’s remarkable rescue. Though invited to come aboard, she declined the offer, stating that a pressing mission for Vargrys required their immediate departure. Meanwhile, the women unhappily watched the docking procedure from the helm.
“This is unprecedented, Mistress,” Vydya complained. “Only you favored him the allocated time. Protocol wasn’t satisfied. Surely we could have given him more oral stimulants?”
“I’m afraid not, Vydya,” Martika said. “As I learned, they wouldn’t have changed his basic nature. He simply was no match for us. You have to remember that most males are inherently weaker. Few can sustain our needs for long. This is why we must constantly seek superior species. Otherwise, we would taint our breed with inferior genetic material.”
The transfer signal sounded, allowing Jack to leave the ship through an interconnecting tunnel. Sighing with relief, he stepped into the arrival deck of the station from where he happily watched the departure of the Vargrysian ship.
A series of chimes drew his attention to a door spiraling opening behind him. Eager to see a human face after so long, he turned in anticipation. His smile instantly faded when three athletically built women marched through the door. The station commander, a swarthy brunette stitched into a tight white uniform generously trimmed with gold braid, stared appraisingly at him. Her accompanying officers grinned and nodded approvingly at each other as they looked him over.
“Welcome aboard, Captain Singer!” the commander said with a grin. “I bet you can’t believe your luck after drifting in space for two hundred years!”
OFF THE BEATEN TRACK
It was shower night again at DefCon 5. Amidst the smoky haze and the bustle of too many bodies crowding the garishly lit nightclub, Lynsey could barely distinguish the three soapy women writhing beneath the water in various stages of impalement by gelform dildos. Though the stage was set well above the tables, a row of customers high on booze and expensive hits of pure-grade Bliss blocked her vantage point.
She rose from her uncomfortable angular chair and tried to peer through a forest of heads and shoulders. Mirrored surfaces flashed the strobing lights back into her face. Matt, sitting placidly at the table, nursed his drink, his eyes fixed on a convenient gap allowed by a lesbian couple in front of him busily fondling each other.
Lynsey grimaced as she noticed his gaze wander to the women’s roaming hands. Identical blonde kewpie dolls, their fingers strayed beneath the hems of their sparse flesh colored skirts. Though the action on stage was far raunchier, Matt appeared more fascinated by what was not revealed rather than what was. At least the women were oblivious to him, his dark, Byronic good looks holding no appeal.
Resentfully, she climbed onto her chair and gained enough clearance to see the stage. By now the action had turned to the mock rape scene as two of the women held down the third and forced their malleable dildos into every available orifice. The victim writhed in the shell shaped shower base, her glistening wet skin reflecting jeweled shimmers of colored light. Islets of foam flecked her body. The transparent gelform dildos filled
her to hilt, her hips pumping furiously in time with the thrusting hands of her tormentors.
A minor scuffle drew her attention. Two security guards pounced on an older, silver-haired man whose impressive hard-on had somehow managed to slip from his fashionably tailored pants. Laughter and curious stares followed his ignominious departure from the club.
Not too bad, Lynsey thought. Maybe they should have a senior night…
Someone passing brushed against her chair. Her strappy red stilettos wobbled. Reaching to steady herself, she turned to find herself staring into the startling gray eyes of the blondest man she had ever seen. Clean, Nordic features regarded her with interest, his lusciously full lips turned up in the slightest of smiles. A gorgeously cut, dove gray suit augmented rather than concealed his athletic physique.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “That was careless of me.”
Lynsey paused to savor his silky voice, though she could not quite determine the faint accent.
“No problem. I shouldn’t be balancing on rickety chairs.”
His gaze locked hers, and then drifted appreciatively down her body. Velvety gray eyes lingered on the generous cleavage revealed by her tight red tube dress. Lynsey felt naked beneath his bold perusal. She felt herself flush, something, she realized, she had not done in some time. Matt and the noisy club receded to a distant point.
“The women in this place don’t do you justice,” he finally said. “I’ve not seen many redheads as a attractive as you. In fact, I don’t see many attractive, unenhanced women at all these days.”
She smiled foolishly. It was a line, but an enjoyable line, considering the club was filled with stunning women. “Well, I do help mother nature along despite what you may think.”
“Enhancing natural beauty is one thing, creating it from nothing is something entirely different. There is a freshness in you that in itself is refreshing.”
