Rock n Roll Babes from Outer Space

by Linda Jaivin

  ‘Ebola doesn’t deserve to polish Jake’s boots,’ Revor sniffed.

  Baby was thinking the same thing.

  Goodbye cock rock, hello frock rock!

  Juice

  Where can you go once you’ve redefined the genre?

  Take Britpop brats Oasis, up the sex, drugs and rock n roll factors by about a googolplex, paint them green, make them girls and give them antennae and you begin to get an idea of what Rock n Roll Babes from Outer Space are like…

  Rolling Stone

  Become a caricature of yourself?

  Babes on the Net! For information, gossip, lyrics, and on-line chats with Baby, Doll and Lati contact the news group alt.fan.greenteens…

  The J Mag

  Interfaced with every wired gasbag from here to Hercules?

  Welcome to the Sexual Experimentation Chamber. We are about to find out all about alien sex, straight from the mouth of—who else—Rock n Roll Babes from Outer Space…

  Australian Women’s Forum

  Spoken intimately to the public about matters you haven’t sorted out with your intimates?

  Who wasn’t there at the out-of-this-world launch party for X-Terrestrials, the new Oxford Street clothing shop selling space-inspired fashion for men, women, and, as the sign on the window says, starseeds of any gender. The label is the brainchild of the Rock n Roll Babes from Outer Space…

  Pulse (Sydney’s ‘New Testament of Trend’)

  Become a fucken commercial enterprise?

  Inspired by Rock n Roll Babes from Outer Space, Tulip King has announced a new line in green lipsticks with foundation and blusher to match in a range of verdant shades…

  Vogue

  An icon?

  Rock n Roll Babes from Outer Space frontwoman Baby Baby is all Woman Woman. The stunning green-skinned beauty claims she’s got no special diet or beauty secrets—‘I just eat whatever I want, anything including the kitchen sink,’ she jokes. She refused to confirm rumours linking her with male supermodel Troy Polloi, nor would she comment on stories that her lovers have included Bad Seed Nick Cave, Oasis’s Liam Gallagher, Michael Hutchence, Cruel Sea oarsman Tex Perkins or the American country superstar k.d. laing. Who Weekly did obtain the following exclusive photographs, however, which show Babes basswoman Lati Dohdidohdoh out clubbing with Brad Pitt—the hunky American actor is said to have been a fan of the Babes ever since he got a copy of their CD Come to Mothership from Tom Cruise…

  Who Weekly

  Everything you ever wanted to be? Extraterrestrial extrafucken ordinaire. A Rock Star.

  It’s me again. Yeah, Baby Baby. And I’m talking to you, Earth boy. Earth girl. Bean. Whoever.

  We’ve had a filthy time on Earth. Sex, drugs and rock n roll, hey? Full-on-o-rama. All things INXS. Forget One Hot Minute—we’ve had, what’s it been now, One Hot Six Months?

  It’s all worked out a bit too easily for us. Take rock n roll for example. We’d barely picked up our instruments when we became rock stars. Did you notice that? Nothing too difficult about sex or drugs either. We fucked everything in sight, used no condoms, caught no diseases and, while we did stay away from the Big Heavy Stuff, we had an excellent time on drugs, and didn’t lose too many brain cells in the process. Cheerin’.

  Is this a purple kangaroos crossing zone or is it just me?

  Just joking. But it’s been one hell of a party. And now. we’re headed for the biggest bash of them all—Come to Mothership, our big gig at the Sydney Cricket Ground. We’ve got heaps of special FX planned. Hope you’ve got a ticket—they sold out mega-fast. If you don’t, let me know. We’ve still got a few backstage passes left. We’ll get you in one way or another.

  But, I dunno. All this stardom stuff really shifts me. Shits me. Whatever. It’s like, I can’t even walk into the Sando to listen to a band these days without beans all over me like a rash. I mean, I’ve always enjoyed a bit of attention…all right, I’ve always enjoyed being the centre of attention, but. It’s funn., I almost feel a sense of relief thinking about what Zyggo said, you know, that Qwerk is coming after us. It’s like, yeah, Earth, it’s been real, but time to move on. Other worlds to conquer and all that.

  I know you’re waiting for me to say something about Jake. What can I say? You know the score. I know the score. But that doesn’t seem to make it any easier, does it? Melodrama-o-rama.

  No, that’s not a tear in my eye.

  ‘Well,’ observed Jake. ‘Tomorrow’s the big day.’

  ‘Are you upset that the promoters knocked Bosnia off the program?’ Baby tried to shift slightly closer to Jake on the loungeroom sofa but the blobby pillows slipped and slid beneath her and she actually ended up further away.

  ‘Nah,’ Jake lied. ‘I know you tried. It’s probably for the best anyway. We never really intended to go mainstream. We’d lose our cred. I never imagined Bosnia doing stadium rock. Wouldn’t want to end up like silverchair.’

  Baby considered how silverchair had ended up. ‘You mean,’ she giggled, ‘rich and famous?’

  Jake flinched. ‘Fame and wealth don’t appeal to me,’ he said. He glanced at her, suddenly aware of the implications of what he was saying. ‘Not that I’m criticising you or anything. I think that it’s been great, what’s happened with the Babes. It’s just that I’m not really into that kind of thing. Myself.’

  ‘You know it’s not what I’m in it for, either. I just love the music. But Jake, tell me. What are you into? You know, I’ve known you all this time and I still haven’t figured it out.’

  ‘Oh, whatever.’ He studied the ceiling. A mysterious brown stain had spread over one corner from which a small plantation of mushroom-like growths hung like stalactites in the gloom. He briefly wondered if they were edible. ‘True love, maybe?’

  Baby’s antennae stood straight up. She tried to read him but Jake was too quick for her. He was batmobiling. His deflector screens had shot up—he was an emotional escape vehicle, complete with tinted windows. Bulletproof, bomb-proof, utterly impenetrable. Her antennae were trembling with the effort by the time she gave up.

  ‘Jake?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I might not be hanging out here much longer.’

  Jake’s heart jumped into his throat and then dropped into his stomach, slid down his leg and fell straight out of the hole in his sock. ‘What d’you mean?’ he said, swallowing. ‘You going to the States or something? Australia too much of a small pond and all that sort of thing?’

  ‘No.’ Baby gave a weak laugh. ‘That’s not it at all. Of course not. I meant this planet.’

  ‘But—’ Jake kept forgetting she was an alien. It seemed she’d been in his life forever. He couldn’t imagine her leaving Sydney, much less Earth. Wasn’t it just space and stars and shit like that out there?

  ‘It’s sort of hard to explain. But I’ve got this cousin, Zyggo, and there’s this group of leaders, the Qohort, and this guy Captain Qwerk, apparently he’s coming to get us, and—’ she could tell Jake didn’t have a clue as to what she was talking about ‘—do you love me?’

  Do you love me?

  Jesus Christ! What the hell was Jake to do now? If she’d said, ‘I love you,’ Jake would have been startled but he could have coped. When a girl says ‘I love you’, you have a number of options, and they’re equally applicable whether you love her back or not. You can change the subject, you can mumble incomprehensibly, you can reply ‘I know’ or ‘thank you’ or something equally heartbreaking, or you can say ‘I love you too.’ Or you can just slip the tongue in.

  Jake’s eyes rabbitted around the room, searching for a safe burrow. Hunching over the coffee table, and with great concentration, he licked the tip of a finger, pressed it to some mull on the table and raised it to his nose. He sniffed it and put it back on the table. He reached for the remote that controlled the CD player. ‘Have you heard the new Dambuilders EP?’ he asked, aiming it at the stereo and pressing buttons.

  ‘Jake. I asked you a question.’ Baby’s vo
ice was small and tremulous. Windchimes tinkling at the end of the verandah.

  Jake fiddled more insistently with the remote. He frowned. ‘It’s stuffed,’ he remarked.

  ‘I know,’ Baby said, a touch of impatience in her voice. ‘Remember? I can fuck up the electricals when I feel like it.’

  Do you love me?

  Silence. Jake was trying to think of what to say. Why the hell couldn’t he just say ‘yes’?

  ‘Oh, forget it,’ said Baby sadly. ‘It’s just, you know, a bit of a shame-o-rama that we’ve never, uh, you know, constipated our relationship. Cuz you know I’ve been thinking a lot about it, and I reckon we actually do have a relationship. Already. You know. That’s what I’ve learnt in my time on Earth. A relationship is just a connection between two people. That’s all.’

  ‘Consummated,’ he said in a voice suddenly gone hoarse and husky.

  ‘Consummated,’ she echoed.

  Do you love me?

  There was a silence. Into it, Jake mumbled, ‘Yeah, probably.’ His voice sounded like it had been hooked up to a distortion pedal. ‘You know.’ She looked at him with questioning green eyes. He studied the floor. ‘Love you.’

  The CD player whirred softly into action. So did Baby. Now-or-never-ville. She picked up Jake’s left hand with her right and pressed it to her lips. Electrical impulses danced up his arm and travelled in tingling pathways through his body. Baby, in turn, tasting the light salt of Jake’s hand, felt her whole self tremble at the piquancy of it. His fingers sought her cheeks, stroking the smooth skin of her face. They kissed for a very long time.

  Pushing her head gently down, he sucked one of her antennae into his mouth. The finely proportioned antennae, with their beautiful rounded tips, delicate aqua colouring, and fine, sleek membranous sheaths were made for sucking.

  She, in turn, gasped as she felt Jake’s mouth slip round the knob and nibble gently on the stalk. If the eyes are the windows of the Earthling soul, the antennae are the alien soul’s eyes, ears, nose and more. Through their antennae, aliens can see beyond that which is merely apparent to that which is veiled, they can hear the most secret sounds and perceive sensations that are beyond taste and smell and touch. The organ of the hypersenses, the antennae were hypersensitive organs. It wasn’t by accident that evolution had left them on top of the head, where their random contact with breezes and floating pollens and sonic vibrations and the occasional fly was already enough to drive your average alien to sensuous distraction. And Baby was hardly your average alien.

  Now, with Jake’s tongue flicking up and down the skin made slippery with his saliva, with his wide lips closed tight round the shaft as he sucked it down his throat, Baby’s whole self was flooding with sensations of every sort. She could hear the pounding of Jake’s heart. She could hear the blood cells in his lungs slurping in the oxygen and bounding back with crimson sighs of contentment into the slipstream of his arteries. She tasted the salt crystallising on his skin, whose dampening she could also sense as though it were her own. The thickening musk of his desire was enough to take her to the very edge of a faint. The heat of his body warmed her and, as he entwined his fingers into her thick plaits, caressing her scalp with his fingertips, she could sense the tingling currents racing down the pathways of her own brain.

  As for Jake, the psychic secretions of the antenna were such that he had the illusion of total weightlessness. Though in reality he was still sitting on the old brown sofa, the sensation that he was floating was so vivid that for a few seconds he was gripped with a terrible vertigo. When that settled out, he opened his eyes, or thought he did, and saw that he was flying through space. He beheld a cosmic panorama, he heard the beating of pulsars, the whoosh of comets and, beyond that, the astounding silence of deep space.

  Baby’s plaits engorged with colour and glowed with supersaturated greens and pinks and blues and purples.

  They slippery-dipped to the floor on a cascade of cushions.

  Rainbow arcs of electricity coursed through her body now, and her skin vibrated like that of a drum. Slowly, she rolled her head away from Jake, her antenna slipping out of his slackening mouth. Parting a path through his dreadlocks, she applied her own lips to the pale shell of his ear. He trembled as her tongue expanded soft and moist into the neat cavern, tickling the soft down of its sides. She chewed on his soft lobe, pulling playfully on it with her teeth and then slipping in her fattened tongue once more.

  He bent to her neck now, and plumped his lips against her jade skin. Moistening, a small, rosy mouth opened to his lips and welcomed his tongue inside it. He stroked her leg and there, too, the skin grew warm and wet and parted to embrace his fingers. He marvelled at this, and at how she was trembling from the tips of her antennae to her toes now. She rolled over on top of him, curling down to kiss the crook of his elbow. She stroked and licked the skin there in a kind of daze, as though half expecting that it, too, would open to her, when she felt his other hand move underneath her skirt.

  He caressed the smooth skin he found between her legs, making circles upon it with his fingers, tickling and then stroking harder. The magic happened again, and slowly, like the petals of a rose unfolding, moistness gave way to cleavage, and soon he felt the insistent pressure of lips no less soft or beautiful than those which were now pressed against his. Eventually, his whole hand disappeared into that most mysterious of orifices. Baby was groaning with pleasure now, and she rode his hand gently.

  She leant away and tugged on his t-shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it onto the floor. She bent her head to his armpits, and remembered that first, naive encounter in the sexual experimentation chamber all those months ago. She breathed in his heady, boyish scent. Smells like teen spirit. Who said that? Who cares. Flicking the barbell that pierced his nipple with her tongue, she ran her fingers lightly over his chest and down to his stomach.

  Jake had withdrawn his dripping hand and, with his face now pressed against her breast, he felt around the back of her skin-tight frock for a zipper. How the hell had she got the thing…shit. His eyebrow ring had caught on the fabric of the dress in the front. Sssssssst. He’d only meant to shake it loose, but instead the ring had pulled a thread that pulled another and suddenly her frock had fallen away, neatly torn in two. She laughed, unconcerned, and tugged at his belt. Soon most of their clothing lay scattered around the sofa, and what remained on their bodies was of no hindrance. As their tongues entwined, Baby rubbed herelf against him, enjoying his fuzzy warmth and the hardness of his cock against her stomach, where yet another new mouth was parting its hungry lips. These lips suddenly sucked him inside and Jake gasped as the flexible inner tongue which gave pleasure in both directions began sliding itself around the swollen head and sensitive rim of his cock. Baby was in such a state of arousal now that her skin was shimmering with kaleidoscope-like images, loops and spirals and psychedelic patterns. Jake’s tongue and fingers were burrowing into yet more petites bouches that had opened up in her breasts and on the plump cheeks of her arse. The tiny tongues inside each cunt swelled until, like overripe fruit, they felt as though they’d burst at one more touch. Juices flowed from these mouths bearing flavours of cinnamon and spice and cockles and lemon.

  Jake reached again for her antennae. This time, the mere touch of his lips to the sensitive shaft caused her to explode in simultaneous multiple orgasms, the capacity for which is a rather big advantage of being an alien.

  As she spasmed and sparked with extreme pleasure, her many cunts grew and widened and merged so that where they had sucked in a finger, it was now an entire hand that they ingested, and then an arm, until finally, her entire body gaped open and swallowed Jake whole. He filled her up, from head to toe—even her limbs were replete with him. Jake, meanwhile, found himself squeezed inside the most delicious, warm, wet space, at once profoundly comforting and deeply exciting. Come to Mothership indeed. He swam through her, surfing her waves. He felt an orgasm ripple through his body from his head to his feet and then b
ack up again, through each vertebra, down every nerve path, even along his very marrow. Jake had never experienced an orgasm that was so powerful or which lasted so long. He felt utterly annihilated. Shaken and stirred to the core of his bean. Just as he was beginning to notice that it was a trifle difficult to breathe, Baby moaned and stiffened and came again, screaming with pleasure.

  Lati and the twins were just stepping into the house when they heard Baby holler. They rushed into the lounge just in time to see a gasping and totally slimed Jake come tumbling out of the largest, most extraordinary cunt any of them had ever seen, on a tidal wave of juices. He was a bit blue in the face, which made him and Baby an even more perfect pair.

  Iggy and Revor had dashed in as well, and were squealing and howling and performing somersaults of sheer delight.

  Baby looked up at their audience. ‘Sorry,’ she apologised breathlessly and with a naughty giggle, ‘I forgot. In space, you know, no one can hear you cream. Now, fuck off, ya slags.’

  Lati grabbed the twins each by an arm and led them upstairs to make further inroads, so to speak, into the question of how much fun one alien girl with an infinite number of cunts could have with two Earth boys.

  By the time Jake recovered, Baby’s petals were folding back in on themselves, except for one spot on her neck that she was stroking absent-mindedly, her eyes closed. He bent over her, scooped her up in his arms and, trying not to huff or puff too much (she was, after all, something of an Amazon and Jake wasn’t exactly Mr Jock), carried her up the stairs and into the shower. There, they made love all over again. Ending up in Jake’s room, they fell asleep in each other’s arms, or rather, Jake fell asleep in Baby’s arms. Baby didn’t sleep much anyway, and her mind was whirring.

  Something told her this would be her final night on Earth.

  Wheeeee, yodelled the Sirians and the Alphas and the Cherubim and the rest as Pop zipped through the Last Wormhole Before Planet Earth like a toboggan on a water slide. Yeeha! There was further hilarity, and not a little panic when they discovered that they’d exceeded the recommended speed limit for wormholes and were starting to get some of their molecules confused—a Sirian and a Zeta Reticulan inadvertently swapped noses, for instance, and Qwerk must have traded a few brain cells with an Alpha, because he actually began laughing at the others’ jokes.