SCI-ROTICA

by Cameron Hale

  Silently, the crew rose and stripped off their armor until they formed a tight circle around Naerkail. She was surprised to find two apparent hermaphrodites among the group and stared in fascination as their narrower cocks rose above a visibly gaping cunt. A sea of hands inundated her, lifting her onto the slippery marble table. Hydris eagerly ripped off her jumpsuit with a single motion. Curious fingers eagerly explored her body while others toyed with and sniffed her coarse hair, its musky odor cloying in the heavy atmosphere. Naerkail gasped at the electric contact, her flesh sizzling almost painfully beneath the nip of teeth and the trailing of sharp edged nails.

  Trembling from an acute ache that reverberated throughout her body, she opened her legs in expectation, but her exposed cunt was ignored. Her eyes locked onto one of the hermaphrodites drawing closer. He removed a silver flagon from his discarded knotted chain belt and slowly approached the table.

  Hydris chuckled coarsely. “Lead the way, Drashar, but leave something for us. It is not only you that hungers.”

  The crew stood watched silently while Drashar carefully oiled himself until his flawless onyx skin gleamed in the light. He slithered onto Naerkail, the contact jolting as the fiery oil stimulated the nerve endings of her flesh. Extending a long, sinuous yellow tongue, he rhythmically probed and licked the sensitized flesh squirming beneath. Never once did he pause for breath. Finally burrowing his head between Naerkail’s spread thighs, he cupped his massive hands beneath her ass, raised her and thrust his tongue deep into turgid cunt until it completely disappeared.

  Naerkail screamed and violently bucked as the serpentine tongue that alternately penetrated the dual openings of her cunt. She bucked fiercely on the table; her struggles ignored as she was roughly pushed back onto the table and held down.

  At length, the hermaphrodite rose and jerked his head toward the others. Hyrdis approached first, massaging more of the fragrant oil into Naerkail’s pores before undulating on top of her. Draping her legs around his broad shoulders, he lanced her with his cock until her screams echoed throughout the chamber. Flailing wildly, faint from the oppressive heat and the sharp reek of arousal, she gasped for breath but found no respite from his vice-like embrace. By now she had traveled far beyond the ordinary realm of the madru, her sense of self vanishing into the turmoil of a body that was not yet equipped to cope with such a sensory glut.

  The others joined in by sandwiching her in a bizarre serpent’s nest. Multiply penetrated by tongue and cock, she rose from the ocean of bodies gasping for air only to find her mouth filled with the syrupy come of Hydris and the others. She spluttered, gagged and swallowed, the yellow fluid trailing down her chin. Inflamed by the site, the hermaphrodites began to lap the come with their tongues.

  “Enough!” the Speaker cried with disgust, the disembodied voice booming through the leaden silence. “We have witnessed enough of this depravity.”

  Naerkail, almost giddy from watching her erotic liaison, forced herself to breathe deeply. Her nipples protruded boldly from the flimsy fabric of her jumpsuit, her loins saturated from arousal. Not even the cold, sterile environment of the hall could banish the vitality of her newborn senses.

  “You are truly unspeakable, Naerkail,” the Speaker said indignantly. “For the fleeting pleasures of the flesh you have betrayed your own people and have tainted yourself in the process by interchanging with inferior corporeal beings.”

  Unashamed by the state of her arousal, she defiantly faced the Council. “Your surveillance methods are truly remarkable. I had no idea security roamers were capable of interplanetary travel. The quality of the transmission is outstanding.”

  “You degrade yourself without remorse and drivel is your response?” Speaker said. “Have you any concept of the scope of your crime? Genetic treason carries the maximum sentence!”

  “Better a brief moment of pleasure than a dreary eternity existing in support chambers,” she replied. “All Ilkrians should have a choice. Is that not the prerogative of an advanced race such as ourselves? There are numerous advantages to the corporeal body. Mobility itself is an experience unmatched by stasis or any other purely mental experience. There’s nothing obscene about physical sensation. At one time, even our own ancestors enjoyed this.”

  “A useless trait thankfully long bred from our lineage like. It defies believe that you would consider consorting with savages a viable choice. Your eagerness to defile yourself and the Ilkrian culture is beyond belief.”

  Naerkail grinned slyly. “Perhaps you are envious, Speaker? There were some aspects of my encounter that even the roamers could not viably record…”

  The Council collectively gasped.

  “Have you any idea of the revulsion the Council feels by your very presence?” Speaker said. “You are an outcast of Ilkrine, a traitor to your heritage. You do not even merit the privilege of a hearing considering the enormous damage the stolen information could have caused. At least the Glotolou vessel has been detained and the contraband items returned. We consider your potential influence on others a far greater threat than the pathetic avarice of a barbaric race.”

  Naerkail’s haughty expression wavered. “The Glotolou vessel was captured?”

  The Speaker chortled, genuine amusement in his voice. “You pitiable creature. Did you really expect the Glotolou to provide you safe passage offworld? Who do you think signaled our patrol vessel? Did you actually believe yourself so indispensable that these barbarians would not try to double cross you for an even higher price?”

  “If you knew what was happening all along, why didn’t you prevent the meeting? Were your voyeuristic tendencies piqued that much by my actions that you felt you needed to chronicle my experiences for your own satisfaction?”

  A commotion rose from the chambers.

  “You’ve found me guilty,” she cried, her face flushed with indignation. “Why not exile me and finish with this pretense?”

  The Speaker’s voice trembled with fury. “Your insolence is truly a wonder to behold, Naerkail. But I am afraid exile is far too lenient a sentence for someone so amoral and so potentially destructive. No, the Council has decided on a far more appropriate punishment.”

  As Speaker’s words ceased, the wall retreated behind Naerkail, revealing a vast, chamber obscured by sinister veils of drifting mist.

  “Enter the chamber, Naerkail.”

  “But I have the right of appeal,” she protested. “The death sentence was abolished eons ago!”

  “There is nothing to appeal. You willingly forfeited your rights. At least have the decency to stand by your ignominious convictions. Now go!”

  She began to argue, but the extinguishing lights abruptly cut off her protest. Reluctantly, she turned and entered the chamber. A translucent barrier immediately descended behind her, its construction allowing a one-way view by the Council. Banks of light blazed on, illuminating an intricate honeycomb of dazzling mirrored paths interconnected with bubbling azure pools. The shifting, diaphanous mist drifted from the gurgling water and clung suggestively to Naerkail’s body, its gamy odor somehow familiar. In the distance, an open passageway beckoned. She had scarcely moved into the maze when a massive, ebony-skinned hand with four double-jointed fingers emerged from a nearby pool and seized her ankle.

  She cried out as the powerful fingers tenaciously gripped despite her frantic efforts to prise them off. No amount of clawing or scratching succeeded in as much as damaging the flesh. Feeling a creeping numbness rise from her captive ankle, she stumbled into the path of another phantom hand rising from an adjacent pool. It flexed and snapped at her with dizzying speed. Seizing her wrist, it easily yanked her onto her back. The more she struggled, the more hands appeared until she was completely immobilized by dozens of glistening fingers. In the misty background, countless undulating hands remained out of reach as they vainly groped for their victim.

  The hands roughly stripped Naerkail naked, her screams stifled by several eager fingers. Penetrating every orifice, the sinuou
s hands manipulated her into endless positions until she was obscenely crouched over a balled fist that systematically thrust deep into her cunt before dragging her semi-conscious body into a tumescent pool. Sinking into the bottomless depths, her copper hair formed a brief, fiery veil before it vanished.

  As the grisly spectacle faded, the Council broke its silence by chatting quietly among themselves.

  “Tell me, Speaker,” one of the senior Council members asked. “Do you think the punishment went too far? There is no legal precedent in our entire recorded history for such a crime. Perhaps this sentence might be considered objectionable by certain sectors?”

  Speaker paused thoughtfully for some time, recollecting the ambiguous expression on Naerkail’s face during her impalement by the fist. “Punishment?” he finally said. “I wonder…”

  SILENT GATHERING

  Sharaan almost missed the brief shift in the horizon. No more than a momentary shudder glimpsed from the corner of her eye, she paused the assignment roster and peered more closely at the dazzling vista of stars splashed across the bow of the ship. Though captured in an eternal still life, something about the view disturbed her. She programmed the viewer for maximum magnification and continued to search for something she instinctively felt was there, but evaded her like a child playing hide and seek.

  The dull glow of twin orange stars captured her attention. Locked in a fatal gravitational embrace, molten ribbons of gas streamed into the void of space. The instruments failed to record any unusual activity, but instinct told her otherwise. She frowned and perused the navigational charts, finding no planetary system other than the remote Kham'hor settlements four light years distant. When a computer scan verified no known local anomalies, she canceled the assignment roster and hailed Jem.

  A lean, diminutive figure with a rumpled crop of curly blonde hair and a naturally tanned face bobbed above an amber slab displaying numerous perfectly preserved insects. Her intense sable eyes flashed irritably at the interruption, the fine lines etching them and her mouth attesting to years of arduous expeditions. Clad in a tight beige tank top and the traditionally loose, pocket lined trousers favored by exo-archeologists, she was a woman disinclined to frills and excess femininity.

  “Hold,” she spoke to a nearby datacorder. “Can’t this wait, Shar? I've got to get these specimens catalogued before we arrive at Kham'hor.”

  “You know I wouldn't disturb you unless it was urgent.”

  She sighed and glanced at the piles of artifacts and fossils waiting in surrounding classification pens, including a newly opened metallic container. Several curious, distinctively phallic shaped objects stood within. Beyond, an array of instruments busily analyzed various artifacts placed within hermetically sealed chambers. Screens scrolled a glut of data continuously saved to multiple backup systems. The environment reeked of age and jealously guarded secrets.

  “You realize of course that our research grants depend on keeping Dr. Larius happy?”

  “Yes, and off our backs,” Sharaan said. “We both know the routine after twelve years, Jem, but I need you to check out something.”

  “Check out what? Aren't we supposed to be cruising through one of local dead zones?” She moved toward the phallic objects in the metal container and picked one up that resembled an oversized, double-headed penis. Below the heads the resemblance faded, the chipped shaft bearing a formidable series of carved ridges akin to fish scales. Slowly, she turned the ocher-colored relic in her hands, her fingers thoughtfully brushing the bubble-shaped heads. “Isn't that why I've been down here fondling the legacies of the ancient Nolistrai?”

  Sharaan watched Jem’s fingers trailed provocatively down the length of the shaft. The sinuous movement disturbed her, the act of watching somehow voyeuristic.

  Jem glanced obliquely at her. With an enigmatic smile, she pressed the bulbous heads against her breast and teased the nipple until it poked through the thin fabric of her tank top. Noticing Sharaan’s rapt expression, she trailed it down her body until it rested firmly against her crotch. Slowly, she slid the artifact between her legs. With half-closed eyes, she leaned back against one of the pens and increased the tempo.

  “Want to try it out, Shar?” she asked raggedly. “Been a while and if it feels this good on the outside…”

  Sharaan involuntarily shuddered. Repelled yet fascinated by the sight of the alien cock firmly planted between Jem’s legs, she could not stem the flush that suffused her body. She moved closer to the monitor and pressed her hands against it. Though she could not see the outline of Jem’s cunt through the loose fabric of her trousers, she could imagine them swelling, the moist lips parting. So many times she had explored that warm and secret place with her mouth and hands, probing and seeking much like the way she painstakingly sought treasures buried by time. Though technology had supplanted much of the arduous field labor, the delicacy of the human touch could not be replaced.

  Nor could the image of Jem’s growing excitement replace the actual feel of the ancient relic against her own body. Sharaan sighed. It had indeed been a long time, the demands of their work leaving little time for the intimacy they once shared. Even longer was the time elapsed since either had enjoyed a male, human or otherwise. Watching the hypnotic movement of the artifact, it was easy to imagine the feel of the turgid flesh driving into her, the force of the entry eliciting both pain and pleasure—

  A voice surfaced in her mind like the cry of a drowning swimmer. Translated from the instinctual tightening in her gut, it whispered frantically. Yet even as she looked at the relic cradled lovingly in Jem’s hands, another shift teased her from her peripheral vision. This time it was a distinct ripple, like the disturbed surface of a pond. The movement echoed within her, causing a fleeting disorientation. She stared toward the area of the twin orange stars. “Jem, there's something out there. I've just seen it again.”

  Her words snapped Jem out of her trance. Blinking in obvious confusion, she glanced in surprise at the artifact wedged between her thighs. “What the hell?” she said, hastily setting it back in the container. “Was I about to fuck a ten-thousand year old ritual fetish?”

  Sharaan shook her head. “I’m beginning to wonder. The look on your face…”

  And probably mine, she thought uncomfortably.

  Jem smiled wryly. “Gives a new meaning to classification.”

  “That may be the least of our worries.”

  Jem frowned and brought up an external image on a nearby viewer. “What does the computer say?”

  “Nothing. That's the problem. We're supposed to be traveling through empty space. Keep your eye just to the left of those orange binary stars. It's quick—nothing more than a flicker, but I know there’s something there.”

  Jem peered closely at the stars and shook her head. “I can’t see anything from here. The viewer’s too small. Give me a moment to clean up. I'll be right there.”

  The monitor blanked. Sharaan moved closer to the main viewer and watched the star cluster. Though it appeared innocuous, she could not shake a growing feeling of unease that only partially retreated when Jem came in and stood beside her. Despite the climatically controlled environment of the artifact chamber, Jem’s musky aroma of arousal veiled her flesh. Sharaan felt a sharp twinge in her loins and unconsciously stepped back.

  “See anything?” Jem asked.

  “Not yet, but sooner or later…”

  “There it is!” Jem said, pointing to a brief shudder beyond the twin stars.

  “What do you think it is? A spatial distortion?”

  “Maybe,” Jem said, quickly checking a nearby datascreen, “but we’re not getting any readings.”

  “How can that be?”

  She shrugged. “You tell me. This is space. The unexpected goes along with the unexplored. You should know that after all this time.”

  They looked at each other.

  Sharaan moved to open a frequency. “I think we'd better contact base. We're supposed to be on an archeolo
gical mission. This kind of stuff is out of our league.”

  Jem nodded abstractedly. “Better let Larius know. We don't want him blowing his aortal regulator. When do we reach the Kham'hor system?”

  “We're at least two days away.”

  “Okay, then let's give whatever that is a wide berth. I don't particularly want to end up in some alternate universe.”

  Sharaan glanced sharply at her and saw no intended humor in her expression. “Amen to that,” she whispered to herself.

  * * *

  Standing in the shadowy classification chamber, Jem stared intently at the Nolistrai phalluses. Around her, the equipment slumbered, her entrance deliberately unlogged to avoid activation. Free from the hindrance of bright lighting and distractions, she could study the artifacts and try to understand the curious sensation that had overcome her as soon as she touched the mushroom headed phallus.

  She reached out and gripped it. Its rough, sand-scoured surface conveyed a sense of power, the scales abrasive against her palm. The size was clearly beyond what a human woman could endure, yet as her fingers tightened around the thick shaft, an electric thrill coursed through her. She gasped as an image of herself poised above the phallus flashed in her mind, the huge mushroom shaped head barely touching her gaping lips. Even wet it would fill her, stretch her, possibly tear her, but somehow the pain would be nothing compared to the sensation of such complete penetration.

  The lights flickered and steadied. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple and pooled at the corner of her lip. She licked it, relishing the saltiness. Somehow, the climate control was offline. Steadily rising warmth prickled her scalp and dampened her flesh. She knew she should adjust it before the humidity affected the exposed artifacts, but it was simply that much easier to slip out of clammy clothes. Placing the phallus on the floor, she removed her tank top and trousers. The freedom was narcotic, as was the caress of the warmth against her skin. She embraced it for it a moment before kneeling beside the relic.