Sci-Fi & Fantasy Erotica: Volume 2 (Sci-Fi & Fantasy Erotica Series)

by Charlie Buxton

  Galen nervously rubbed the 101st Airborne patch on his uniform.

  "I like this young man. I see his spirit. A good fighting spirit, with kindness at its core. He will do well for you, Celia," the tree man stated as he turned back to the elf.

  "Thank you, Atzlar," Celia responded.

  "What?!"

  Both Celia and the tree man turned to Galen as the young soldier's jaw descended to the floor. "Atzlar? The- the... god?!"

  "That I am... what was your name, again, boy?"

  "Galen. Galen Martin, sir."

  "Galen, Atzlar I am," he declared, planting a hand into the Private's shoulder, sweeping his other hand out to the area around him as he continued. "Lord of all Atzla forest and all who live within it."

  The god stood smiling at Galen as the young human tried to wrap his head around it all. Hearing of new gods in a new world was one thing, as every civilization has its own deities and figures of worship, but to physically meet one was something beyond comprehension. Meeting one so he may judge his relationship? Galen suddenly felt lightheaded. To top it all, Celia spoke with him as though he were an old friend.

  "But, enough of me. Galen, you wish to take my life-giver away from my clan of forest guardians. To take her under your wing, protect her from the dangers of this world, and show her the love that she craves so much?"

  "I wish to do so, sir," he answered rubbing his face to try and focus.

  Atzlar nodded respectfully, patting him on the shoulder with enough force to nearly bring him to his knees.

  "Good show, my boy. Know that I will keep watch over you, and my dear Celia. Also know that you are both welcome to return on the days of the solstice when the sunlight lasts longest. With that, I grant you both my blessing."

  As those last words slipped his tongue, Atzlar's body broke away and the leaves scattered when a sudden wind swept through the tree, the vines of his body unraveling into solitary strands to spread out like snakes. These pieces swarmed around Celia, the golden aura from her body growing brighter until Galen was forced to look away lest he go blind. Then the vines circled him as well, picking him up and wrapping him in the torrent of leaves. Celia only bowed her head as both she and Galen were held in the air and lashed with bolts of green light.

  Tanza winced as it felt something was ripped from her chest, replaced by a cold stone dropping into her heart: the sign that Celia's sisterhood connection with her clan was destroyed. Following the final flash of light, both Celia and Galen fell to the ground as the vines and leaves from Atzlar's body snaked back into the cauldron.

  Vision had not yet returned to Galen's eyes when Celia was beside him, bringing him back to his feet.

  "Are you alright?" she asked.

  "Yeah, just blinded here for a moment," he answered, rubbing his eyes.

  When he managed to get them open and focused again, he turned to Celia. He then proceeded to rub his eyes once again to make sure they were not deceived.

  A green, metal breastplate covered her breasts, pressing them up snug against her body. Her hands were wrapped in dark, fingerless, leather gloves that covered half her forearms, and long, dark green leggings covered her legs. A bright white loincloth hung over her waist, descending right down to her shins and matching the long white cloak hanging over her back.

  "Celia," Galen began, "You're-"

  "Clothed? Yes. Atzlar felt it would be less provocative in foreign lands if I wore something over myself."

  "It's beautiful," Galen stated, causing the young elf's cheeks to flush gold.

  "You really think so?"

  "Very much so," he answered, leaning in.

  Celia didn't hesitate to answer him with kiss, drawing herself on tiptoes to bring her lips to his.

  "You two will be off then?" Tanza broke in, "I believe you may wish to seek out your friend in the Willher Village, Galen. Night will be upon us soon, and I suspect you wish to be with familiar faces."

  "If you could point us in the right direction, that would be greatly appreciated," Galen stated, breaking away from Celia to face the elder.

  "I know the way," Celia announced, "I can get us there before nightfall."

  Tanza rose from her throne and circled around the room, coming to Celia and pressing a kiss on the girl's forehead before hugging onto the smaller elf. "Be safe, my dear."

  "I shall, elder. Thank you."

  Tanza released Celia and turned to Galen, snapping her glowing fingers and holding her hand to the air. Instantly, Galen's pack, combat webbing, and M14 appeared, though the rifle had significantly changed. The cloth sling had become one of vine, and a soft moss had grown over the wooden furnishings. When Tanza handed the weapon out to Galen, he bewilderedly glanced back and forth between the elder and his precious rifle.

  "What happened to it?"

  "I saw how you wield this device, Galen. And so, I made changes. The vine that replaces your sling is incredibly strong, yet soft. It shall not dig into your shoulders as you carry it and may ease the burden of carrying so much. The moss that covers the wooden body will make it comfier to handle. But be careful, it does have a life of its own. If someone who is not your friend tries to wield it, it will bite back."

  Galen took a step back as the fluff of the sage green moss shifted along the wooden finish of the rifle and groaned ever-so-faintly. Cautiously, he took the weapon from Tanza, stroking a hand over the grip and listening to the soothing purrs in his palms. The weapon really had come alive.

  "Thank you, Tanza," Galen said as he finished putting on his gear and slinging his rifle.

  "No, Galen, Thank you. Now go, there's a world out there that awaits you."

  The soldier gave Tanza a respectful nod, turning for the exit with an eager Celia hanging off his arm.

  Just as they walked out of sight, another vision flashed through Tanza's mind, taking her down to a knee as she clasped her hands over her pointed ears. A tear traced her cheek as she tried to force it away.

  A third time this vision had occurred. A third time, it nearly brought her to tears. Fighting to maintain the secret of her clairvoyance from an outsider had never before been so difficult. From the moment he passed their trials, the future laid out before that young man struck her mind with a thousand needles.

  Struggling to crawl back onto her throne, Tanza whispered, "I only hope that you are ready for the path that lays ahead, Galen."

  The End

  The Question

  The comm screen flashed that there was an incoming message and Captain Julia Yamamoto tapped the accept code.

  "Hello, Admiral Christiansen" she said to the aging man on the screen.

  "Hello Julia, let's drop the formal crap. How are you doing?"

  "Well, Jake, a little shook up, but happy we're intact."

  "I've gotta tell you," said the Admiral, "when we heard you'd been attacked by Aquilans we were stuck somewhere between disbelief and excitement. We've been trying to establish contact with those bastards for years and we can't get 'em to pay the slightest attention. They just swim around in their pools, or pods, or energy shells, or whatever they're called and never spare us so much as a 'hello'."

  "I know," said Julia, "we can't get them to pay the slightest attention to us, and then wham, they swoop in and attack my ship."

  "Any casualties?" asked Jake.

  "None," said Julia. "They were more efficient than a team of SEALS - precision attack, disabling tactics, got in and got out, and gone - jetting straight back to NGC 6751. They worked like surgeons, even using some sort of plasma technique to cauterize their path, sealing up all of the leaks as they went so none of our chambers lost pressure."

  "Amazing. What did they get?" asked the Admiral.

  "That's the oddest thing," said Julia. "They grabbed the science lab and the backup medical suite. They cut the entire thing directly out of the ship. They took everything in the bio labs and the gene labs. From what we can tell, they also pulled the engineering data for every ship we've ever built. Other
than that - nothing else was taken."

  "What the hell?" mused Jake. "I suppose I understand the engineering information -- but after the way they cut through your ship, it wouldn't seem like they need that sort of data to conduct further attacks."

  "I know," agreed Julia. "Speaking of attacks, how are we going to classify this, Jake? We've experienced no loss of life and no significant damage. Hell, except for the fact that we have to go the long way between two parts of the ship -- I could keep going without a single repair. It's hard to call this an act of war."

  "You're exactly right," agreed the admiral. "I've already tangled with a couple of hotheads who are ready to mount a full on attack."

  "Full on attack on what?" asked Julia. "The Aquilans are energy-based beings that float in random pods across this entire nebula. Do these hotheads want to light up the entire cloud?"

  "If they had their way, yeah," said the Admiral. "You take care of your repairs, Julia. I'll take care of the idiots. We'll classify this as the Aquilan Encounter, and leave it at that."

  "Sounds good, Jake," said Julia.

  After signing off, the captain did have one thought lingering in her mind. What in the world were the Aquilans going to do with the genetic info and the labs.

  ***

  TWENTY YEARS AFTER THE AQUILAN ENCOUNTER

  He had once had a name. It was now unpronounceable, or perhaps unthinkable in ways this new brain could comprehend. The name had meant countless things. It had involved the places he'd gone and the ancestors who had led to his creation. However, the name had been in a language that was unfathomable to this form.

  His name was now simply 'Marcus'. He was created from genetic stock from the massive planet Rmavsh and his background indicated traits toward strong diplomacy.

  He opened his eyes.

  There were signals passing through his optic nerves. He could make no sense of them.

  There were other nerves. They were in his skin. He could make little sense of those sensations either, but he did seem to sense he was in some sort of fluid.

  He sensed motion near him. Soon, he felt added pressure on what he was later to learn were called arms and legs.

  His limbs began to move. As they had, several times a day for the past two decades, his arms and legs began pushing and rotating in response to the machines who were tasked with exercising this body. The body had been little more than a living cadaver during its relatively brief existence.

  Until today, the brain had not been capable of thought. A few simple commands had been programmed into a specialized region of the hippocampus so the body might respond correctly to fitness regime -- assuring a properly formed body and alleviating any chance of atrophy.

  For now, he allowed the autonomic exercises to continue. It gave him time to observe and learn the intricacies of this unfamiliar and strange body.

  His awareness continued to expand and he simply stayed suspended, thinking, for several days.

  He awoke from sleep one morning to discover he could now make sense of the visual signals transmitted from the eyes.

  He was in a great room - The Center. Before him he could see his relatives floating in a gaseous tank. He looked with longing at the form he had once held. Though he was gaining a familiarity with his human shape -- it still felt as though he was a guest in this body.

  He turned his head and saw the others. In the great circular track around the Center were three hundred and twenty-eight tanks each containing a human body in an equal ratio of males and females.

  These humans were quite nearly every size, shape, and color within the spectrum of the human race. From dark-skinned individuals tracing their lineage back to the African continent of Earth to blue-skinned Xflesian stock -- the Aquilans had taken a heterogeneous approach to the bodies they would eventually inhabit.

  He studied the woman in the tank to the left. Her form was long and willowy, her hair of a color he would later learn to call blonde. Marcus could see her eyes were open but showed no signs of recognition. He surmised that she must have awoken later and was still not yet capable of processing the visual stimuli. He found his eyes lingering on her naked form and was surprised to feel a rush of blood to his pelvic region. He looked down to discover his sexual organ had grown much larger and was now rigid. He felt a familiar longing begin.

  He turned to the other side. Here was a woman whose skin was of a much darker shade than his own. The breasts on her body were much larger than the lighter-skinned one he had just observed. Her eyes were open, also and they showed recognition. She seemed to be evaluating his form and her eyes lingered on the rigid organ he himself had noticed.

  Their eyes met. They evaluated each other for quite some time. He felt the longing increase.

  The next moment, the machines kicked in. He allowed them to exercise his body for a few minutes, but for the first time he grew resentful of it. He wished to interact with the female he had been watching. He wasn't certain how he wished to interact, but he suspected it had something to do with the rather uncomfortable rigidity between his legs.

  He pushed back on the exercise machine, dragging against the motions it wished for him to perform. It was a struggle at first, but the machine soon stopped. This was actually a trigger. The machines had been programmed to recognize that if a body resisted the exercises rather than complying -- it had become aware and was ready to leave its life within the tank.

  The machines stopped and the tank began to drain. The feeding and breathing tubes, and other requisite attachments were soon removed. Minutes later, Marcus found himself standing unsteadily on the floor.

  His slow awakening had actually given him a surprising familiarity with his new body. He was able to stand and move. He became aware that he was capable of speech -- using the seventeen languages, including Galactic Standard, which had been pre-loaded into his brain and had simply waited there until the day a consciousness entered the body. What all of the words meant were more of a mystery. Blue, red, brown -- they seemed to make sense. It would be several weeks before he could string these odd words together into a coherent sentence of more than a few words.

  Language was not his concern, however. He felt he had to interact with the creature in the next tank.

  On moderately shaky legs, he walked slowly to the dark-skinned woman he had observed. She had seen him resist the exercises and had followed suit. Her tank was nearly drained and she gingerly stepped out to greet him.

  They stood and evaluated each other. The woman was still glistening with the aqueous fluids which had sustained her throughout her formative life. She stepped forward and leaned into him, her high and large breasts being the first bodily parts to touch his. Both of them gave an involuntary gasp at the electrifying jolt of first bodily contact.

  Perfectly nourished for her genetic make-up, she was actually a bit taller than he was since his stock was descended from a planet with heavier gravity. As a result, her breasts touched high on his chest.

  "Marcus," he said, indicating himself.

  "A'nish," she said.

  She bent her head down to be near his.

  "Kiss," she said simply.

  "Kiss," he replied.

  This word made sense.

  Their lips met. It was awkward at first but they soon discovered that moving their lips in certain ways brought more pleasurable stimulation.

  As they kissed, they began to explore each other's bodies with their hands.

  He soon found his hand on her breast.

  "Soft," he commented.

  She nodded in agreement.

  She soon found her hand on his penis.

  "Hard," she commented.

  He also nodded in agreement.

  They began pushing against each other, also enjoying the sensations of exploring each other through greater skin contact and not just their hands.

  Her greater height was a good thing. As they continued 'exploring' and their bodies began naturally responding to the lovely contact, they eventua
lly found his hard member brushing against her nether lips which were now moistened from more than the fluid in which she had lived.

  They knew what to do. Both through instinct and through the limited knowledge with which they had been pre-loaded and were just beginning to unlock. Yes, they knew what to do.

  She moaned involuntarily at the feeling of his long organ sliding into her.

  "Penis," she gasped.

  "Vagina," he replied.

  "Prick," she moaned.

  "Pussy," he groaned.