by Cameron Hale
Jem slowly smiled and pulled Sharaan to her feet. Sharaan gasped and bowed her head. “Our lord Malestru,” she said.
Naked, they emerged from the pod into the honeyed glow. It immersed them in languorous warmth that speckled their flesh with sweat. Around them, the flowers rustled and whispered as they entwined themselves around the women. Clad in living garlands that trailed into tendrils along the ground, they approached the altar and prostrated themselves before Maestro’s image.
Welcome, my daughters.
Jem raised her head, the resonant voice around them and in their minds.
“My lord, the journey has been long and difficult.”
So it has, but the rewards will be many. Once more will we walk among the stars. You are the last to come home. The gathering is complete now. It is time to go forth and claim what was taken from us so long ago. My daughters, are you prepared to pay homage?
Jem and Sharaan rose and bowed before the effigy. “Yes, lord.”
Then let the seeding begin. Through this union, you will acquire all the power you will need in your quest.
The flowers shimmied and pulled both toward the phallus. Sharaan lay before it on the altar and spread her legs. Pressing the huge head against her, she uttered a soft moan.
Jem grasped Sharaan’s hips and thrust her onto the phallus. Above her scream, Jem shouted, “In the name of Malestru, may the kingdom of the Nolistrai rise again!”
STORM WARNING
To the dreamy symphony of a hundred humming candles, a pair of slender cinnamon hands lingered over the jeweled strap of a stiletto shoe perched on a crystal table edge. Following a silent primal beat, twelve delicately tapered fingers caressed a shapely ankle encased in sheer Juthrian silk. Though a violent storm raged miles above on the planet surface, nothing detracted from the man’s smoldering tension as he sat, restrained, in a shadowy corner of the room. The Latkian female watched him through droopy lids, her quivering nostrils savoring the smoky aroma of his sex. With a feline smile, she trailed her curved, bronze-lacquered nails up her thigh, her muscular flesh clearly visible through the gleaming stocking.
The man’s harsh breathing filled the room as the woman slowly peeled away her gold mesh camisole. Her burnished skin gleamed in the flickering candlelight, an array of colorfully beaded tattoos frolicking across her torso and edging her sloping neck. Though she had only three rudimentary breasts crowned by dusky nipples, her body undulated with ripe curves which she further displayed by mounting the table and squatting wide. Her fingers drifted to her triple-lipped cunt and stroked the glistening ruddy flesh until it spread like the petals of an alien blossom.
A stifled cry emanated from the man. He struggled uselessly with his restraints, the chair legs wobbling from the effort. With the help of curses in twenty different dialects, he finally broke free.
Hungrily eyeing the hard-on that strained from his crotch, the woman licked her full lips and tossed her head of wiry bronze plaits. “Why don’t you come and join me, Elgar?” she taunted with beckoning fingers. “Afraid I might suck you into oblivion?”
Her laughter was coarse, provocative. Reclining spread-eagle on the table, she shut her eyes and languorously stroked her taut thighs and ass. Her fingers strayed once again to her cunt. One by one they disappeared within the gleaming folds until both hands were immersed to her slender wrists.
Elgar released his belt, the mounting pressure of his hard-on the point of agony. Entranced, he watched the sinuous ripple of the woman’s body, pausing only to wipe the beads of sweat dotting his forehead. Against his will, his jellied legs stumbled toward the juddering table where he knelt and stared at the temptation before him. The candles wailed louder as the woman’s excitement mounted, her thrusts accompanied by an occasional, guttural bark. A sharp odor reminiscent of anise and lemon filled the air. Elgar inhaled the woman’s musk and muttered an obscenity.
“Come on, Elgar,” she gasped. “Don’t think about it, just do it. Surely a big strong trooper like you can manage that? I can feel that rock hard cock inside me already. You know we’ve both wanted this for a long time.”
Her fingers traced patterns on her hip. Elgar watched with fascinated revulsion, aching to climb between her inviting thighs. It was only when he peered more closely that he saw the tiny hooked barbs protruding from the gaping lips of her distended sex.
Yeah,” he mumbled with resignation. “Just one quick circumcision.”
The woman tossed her head and laughed and came explosively. Rising like a breaching sea creature, she fiercely embraced Elgar, the astringent reek of her musk sinking into his pores. Room lights softly brightened until the candles extinguished in exhaustion.
“You know you’re my favorite,” she whispered as she entwined herself around him. “Simply because you’re the only man I know that can resist me. No matter what I do to tempt you, I can’t get you to cross that line. How can you expect me to ignore a challenge like that?”
Elgar smiled into Simale’s pale saffron eyes. High cheekbones and a prominent brow soared to her scalp line, the effect suggestively demonic.
“It’s real easy, Simale,” he said, nodding towards a suspended glass display cabinet filled with an impressive array of alien organs. “I don’t want to end up with my cock as your trophy. Don’t you think I know what those little scalpels of yours can do? I’m afraid I’m not equipped with the natural defense mechanisms of the average Latkian male, nor do I care to start wearing one of the recommended prophylactics. All I can say is that it’s too bad you don’t come equipped with a nice, tight asshole for me to fuck.”
Simale grinned. Trailing her fingers along the chiseled, unshaven planes of his face, she gazed into startlingly blue eyes framed by damp, wheat-colored hair cut in a style reminiscent of ancient Roman Earth. The effect was disarmingly rough yet boyish, a trait she found irresistible.
“Really, Elgar,” she said. “You’d think there was nothing else of importance other than your manhood. In that respect, every similarly equipped male in the galaxy shares your obsession.”
“Well, I for one am profoundly attached to mine, excuse the pun.” He tweaked her chin and once again relished the incredible softness of her flawless skin. “Remember Jenner, my ex-navigator from the Dravos mission?”
Simale bowed her head, unable to conceal her amusement. Her questing fingers dropped to his trousers. Lovingly she removed his rigid cock and began to sinuously stroke. Elgar gasped and shut his eyes, her grip tightening as she increased her rhythm.
“Jenner?” she asked innocently. “Hmmm¾rumor had it that he needed extensive reconstructive surgery supposedly after a brief encounter with a Latkian female. Or so I’ve heard. You know what rumors are like. More fiction than fact.”
She slipped his cock into her mouth, her pointed tongue trailing the length and breadth while alternately probing and teasing his slit. While one hand proceeded to massage his balls, the other snaked into the taut crevice of his ass and teased his anus with the talon edge of a fingernail. Elgar gasped, went rigid and shot his load deep into her throat until she sucked him dry a moment later. Overcome by a brief sensation of faintness, he allowed Simale to guide him into the plush depths of a nearby couch. She poured a whisky from a mobile servo-unit lurking nearby.
“Want one?”
Elgar could only nod and stare at her.
She grimaced and handed it to him. “I don’t know how you can drink that disgusting liquid. And you have the audacity to criticize my anatomy. Teeth are teeth, my gorgeous savage, whether liquid or not.”
“This,” he said, gulping the whisky, “is one debate I don’t need to hear again. I’m going to take a shower. Want to watch?”
She grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”
* * *
Atmospheric lights flickered through the swirling steam as Simale alternately scrubbed and massaged Elgar with fragrant gels. She continued until she reached his head and worked a rich lather into his hair. Fascinated by his s
tubbly growth of beard, she ran her fingers along its teasing coarseness. They lingered on the playful cushion of his lips before trailing up the bridge of his nose. Elgar nipped her restless fingers.
“Those things have got a life of their own,” he said. “You don’t need anything else.”
The lights began to strobe erratically until the translucent walls of the shower enclosure radiated a kaleidoscopic corona. Elgar frowned. “Damn, must be a bad one. I’ve never known the lights to be affected by an ion storm before. What gives?”
Simale shrugged, her burnished skin contrasting starkly to Elgar’s fair, muscular body. She knelt among the gushing eddies of water to massage his taut ass, her fingers straying to the inviting warmth within.
He sighed with mock irritation. “Don’t you ever quit?”
“As you’re so fond of reminding me, this is one part of anatomy we do not share.” She grinned mischievously and attempted to tongue his anus.
Elgar grunted and pulled away. “You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said. I bet you don’t give Naylor this kind of aggravation.”
“Naylor is a creeping Erszuti fungus compared to you,” she said, playfully slapping his downy thigh. “Besides, I haven’t seen him in ages, so stop trying to change the subject. You know ion storms are as frequent as assignations on this planet. Sex and storms. Both interchangeable if you ask me.”
Unconvinced, Elgar watched the madly strobing lights. “I don’t know about that. The storm hasn’t let up in three days. Ion or otherwise, I’ve never encountered such a violent disturbance in the decade I’ve patrolled this sector.” He hurriedly rinsed off and ducked into the adjacent blower. “I’m going to check our mission status with command in case the interference keeps us grounded.”
Simale sighed and stepped into the blower behind him. “I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of this storm.” Her plaits coiled like serpents beneath the rushing warm air. “What’s a few more days of shore leave? Boredom certainly won’t be a problem for us. Leave the worry to the big boys. I’m sure they’ll snap their fingers when they want you.”
“First let’s find out if we have a few more days.”
* * *
Elgar stepped from the residential tower. Bathed in the sublime glow of simudawn, the building gracefully scythed the air. Gleaming like a cobalt blue sliver of glacier, its faceted, mirrored surface reflected the surrounding city into infinity. Overlooking the city’s vast, lushly planted central plaza, its radiance was matched only by the cerulean depths of an adjacent lake crowned by the diamond glitter of fountain spray. A delightful veil of perfume emitted by banks of drifting scarlet starblossoms teased his nostrils. He paused to watch them float toward the park flanking the western shore of the lake.
Serenaded by the pulse of the thriving city, he meandered through bustling boulevards, open-air markets and auctions. A multitude of visitors milled among the svelte and elegant Latkians, the glut of dialects vying with the din of music and haggling and the intriguing aroma from a tantalizing array of food vendors. Despite the length of time he had served on Latkor, Elgar always felt revitalized by this world in a way he had never experienced elsewhere.
Skirting the lakeshore, he strolled toward a commuter station. Shadows among the trees and beautifully maintained foliage teased him. He finally paused to watch a particularly acrobatic young Latkian trio, two males and a female, forming a chain on an exposed patch of verdant grass the texture of cropped velvet. Oblivious to his scrutiny, they writhed in unison, the female in the center. On her hands and knees, she yelped excitedly as the male behind her thrust his formidable cock, or armadicko, as it was affectionately nicknamed among Earth troops, into her cunt.
Elgar stared, not quite able to stem the stirring in own loins. Though he had seen the cocks of Latkian males before, he had never seen one so huge. More like a fire hose, the texture resembled the hide of an armadillo, hence the nickname. The male fully withdrew and fully thrust, his cock gleaming with the woman’s juices. The female, between gasps, proceeded to suck the huge cock of the male before her. Elgar winced as he watched the organ noticeably bulge from the woman’s neck as she swallowed it. After a few moments, the two males switched places.
Unrivaled in their uninhibited sexuality, Elgar nevertheless became embarrassed by his own burgeoning hard-on, not to mention the growing crowd of native onlookers, some of whom approached the trio with the obvious intention of joining in. He broke away from the spectacle and hurried toward the commuter station. Fortunately, a shuttle was boarding when he arrived. Concentrating on anything but his arousal, he slipped in behind the last embarking passengers and stood facing the broad windows of the delta shaped shuttle until his hard-on finally abated.
Gracefully, the self-navigating vehicle rose from its recessed platform and bounced through pockets of turbulence. Taken by surprise, passengers glanced around and murmured anxiously. Considering the city lay encased in a reinforced skyshell nearly a mile below ground, Elgar was equally concerned. Laktian engineering was considered the foremost in the Allied Systems; their renown structural designs a template for countless applications. That turbulence even existed so far below the surface indicated a serious problem.
He surreptitiously surveyed the pale blue shell, but found no warning beacons alight. Another bout of turbulence rocked the shuttle. With undisguised relief, all the nervous passengers exited at the city perimeter stop. Elgar alone remained on board until the shuttle arrived at the space dock via a network of interconnecting tunnels.
The vast space dock was still positioned beneath its protective transparent dome on the surface, though droning emergency sirens warned him it would not be for long. He threaded through a bustling hangar packed with alien and Terran troopships scattered on color-coded landing pads. He was approaching his vessel when he heard the tinkling sound of a woman’s laugh, probably one of the specially augmented Laktian whores who catered to alien troops, followed by a guttural roar and a wet, slapping sound. A moment later, Naylor loomed from a neighboring craft.
“Well, look what the dung snake dragged in,” he said, casually fastening the metal studs of his trousers. He wiped a viscous smear of come from the crotch area with the back of his hand, leaving a slimy trail across the worn leather.
Elgar silently cursed. An encounter with the bald Venusian giant was not on his list of priorities.
“Simale must be dropping her standards,” the seven-footer taunted, his brutish blue-veined face twisted in a sneer. “Or maybe business is slipping. Too many eunuchs running around. Guess I ought to pay her a visit and remind her what a real man is.”
Elgar flinched at Naylor’s rank body odor. It oozed from his pores, augmented by his worn, sweat crusted leather uniform emblazoned with the bleeding fist insignia of the Venusian elite squadron. Considering the troopers notorious disregard of hygiene, Elgar wondered how any woman could bear them. He felt the curious stares of nearby troopers and stepped closer to Naylor.
“Yeah, why don’t you do that, iron man,” he said. “And after she’s chewed your cock off and mounted it in her cabinet, maybe then we can discuss which one of us is still a man.”
Naylor reddened and advanced on Elgar, his corded neck muscles tensing. A huge fireball suddenly streaked across the sky, magnified by the faceted surface of the dome. Yet another array of alarms wailed to life, the ensuing emergency announcement transmitted in dozens of dialects. Naylor stopped in mid-stride, concern etched on his swinish face.
“Lucky for you I’ve got more important things to do than argue with a Terran asshole,” he barked as he stalked off to his ship. “Give Simale my regards, won’t you!”
Elgar made an obscene gesture behind the Venusian’s back before climbing into his ship, the cockpit aglow with instruments recording the path of the fireball. It took only two useless attempts to contact command to confirm that something was seriously wrong. He stared at the data screen and tried to analyze the freakish energy fluctuations zeroi
ng out the entire sector. He shuddered as he studied the bizarre configuration. The computer scrolled a series of eye-popping coordinates that confirmed his worst fears.
“Christ,” he muttered. “It had to happen on my shore leave.”
As he suspected, the disturbance was no ordinary ion storm. A dying comet had strayed off course, its disintegrated tail wreaking havoc with the planet’s atmosphere. Though Latkian scientists had tracked the comet’s progress, its original trajectory was distant enough to cause no alarm. What caused the comet’s change of direction was still a mystery, the efforts of a variety of deflecting and neutralizing devices a failure.
He punched in a few parameters, hoping to glean further information about the comet’s behavior from the Latkian datanet. He viewed the data suspiciously, the apparent change of course occurring in a disputed sector of space beyond Latkian jurisdiction. He tried again to contact command, his concerns rising with each unsuccessful attempt.
The computer suddenly vomited gibberish and blanked. Undeterred, he tried all other communication modes. The comet’s disruption was complete, leaving the planet essentially isolated in a remote solar system. He set the communications channel on automatic and hooked himself with a tracer in case a signal got through.
He felt a mild jolt and peered at the turbulent sky through the dome of the descending space dock. Fireballs descended from a blazing sky like infernal hailstones, ruthlessly pummeling the planet. Fortunately, most of Latkor was below ground in defense of its frozen, lifeless surface. Reinforced panels slid over the dome as the space dock settled into a subterranean cavern.
The emergency alert followed Elgar on his way to the shuttle bays. Troopers massed to their respective commands, their scant numbers indicating that most were on shore leave. Elgar boarded a city express, his expression grim as he considered the whereabouts of his crew. Latkor was a massive world surpassing Jupiter in size and offered much to tempt the jaded palate of a trooper. Hallucinogens were among many substances frequently used to enhance the intensity of physical and mental experiences, though actual sex could only occur either with specially augmented females or with the use of a protective prophylactic. Indoctrination against such participation failed to deter troopers. Enduring arduous and often dangerous missions, they had quickly capitalized on their peacekeeping value to enjoy shore leave as they wished.
