by Cameron Hale
* * *
Sated at last, they lay in a tangle of limbs and salt-encrusted hair. The sun was higher now, nearing the noon apex. Alone in the secluded cove, only the seabirds bore witness to Nikki’s transformation. She opened her eyes and blinked against the golden glow of the sun. The chill of a brisk breeze pimpled her flesh and hardened her nipples. Rising on one elbow, she regarded the twins. In repose, their dark, sensuous features harkened to bawdy creatures of ancient myth. Gently, she traced the outline of their lips. Only now did words finally seem appropriate.
“Will you tell me who you are?” she asked.
They opened their eyes and smiled in unison. One toyed with the matted strands of her hair while the other caressed her cheek.
The first twin released her hair and sat up. The breeze ruffled his sable locks. “We were orphans of the addiction like you, Nikki. But we wouldn’t let the city take us. Our bodies were ours, not to be sold to the highest bidder. We’ve lived by the sea since the days when you first walked this beach. We watched you. We wanted you. When we took you, we hoped you would stay with us, but you ran like a frightened animal. We didn’t have the resources to find you, but in time, we did.”
Nikki merely stared. That anyone would have sought her out when the cities teemed with countless displaced souls like her was beyond her comprehension. Yet, here they were…
The second twin let his hand trail down her back, eliciting a delightfully shivery sensation. She leaned against the contact.
“Question is,” he said with a soft smile, “will you run again?”
She studied them both and realized it didn’t matter that she had yet to learn their names or know the slightest detail about them. They had arrived at this moment in time, bound together by circumstance, and that was all that really mattered. She shook her head and smiled.
“No,” she said, reaching to embrace them. “Everything I’ve ever wanted is here with me now.”
ROOM OF HANDS
Like an armada of bloated jellyfish, the Ilkrian Council hovered within murky, fluid-filled bulb chambers. Their translucent, spider-veined bodies and spiraling barb tendrils radiated violet flashes of energy as they conversed among themselves. Below in the cavernous audience hall, a solitary female humanoid stood defiantly on a raised dais. Bathed in a pool of harsh light, her physical body contrasted starkly with the gossamer fragility of her peers.
A breathy voice emanated from one of the submerged bubbles, the viscous life fluid rippling in response. “Naerkail of the Fourth Province, you have been duly tried in a court of law and found guilty of genetic treason. Have you anything to say in your defense?”
The youthful female crossed her arms defiantly. Clad in a shimmering white bodysuit, the virtually sheer clinging fabric augmented rather than concealed the tantalizing curves and hollows of her voluptuous body. Dark nipples protruded prominently through the fabric, its flimsy texture unable to support the weight of her pendulous breasts. A wild mane of copper hair hung almost to her waist, its blatant color reflecting fiery pinpoints of light in her heavily lidded bronze eyes. Yet another patch of fiery hair was visible at the delta between her legs. Although the Ilkrians had no actual visual appendages, she could sense their scrutiny.
“From what evidence am I found guilty, Speaker?” she asked with undisguised contempt.
A communal susurration emanated from the bulbs. Irritation edged the Speaker’s voice. “From classified roaming security recordings, of course. With such misplaced ingenuity at your disposal, surely even you must have realized that all science and research staff and facilities are routinely monitored.”
“Do you think by insulting my intelligence you’ll deflect the point?” Narkaeil asked. “Stop playing the fool, Speaker. In a technological world, it’s nothing to fabricate evidence. What proof do I have that any even exists after being denied the privilege of witnessing these so-called classified recordings? Why don’t you admit the truth? I was brought here on empty accusations without the benefit of counsel to be used as a sacrificial lyrku to appease the public over the alarming spate of data thefts.”
Agitated churning resounded throughout the great hall in response to her challenge. Naerkail stood nonchalantly while the Council heatedly debated; a particularly sharp comment or rebuttal emphasized by showers of silver sparks from the bulbs.
“Against the collective opinion of my colleagues,” Speaker eventually replied above the din, “I will ignore your appalling insubordination. It is too trivial to concern us at present. To convince you and conclude this protracted hearing once and for all, we shall now view the evidence.”
Allowing herself a smug smile, Naerkail turned. Behind her, the concave wall transformed into a facsimile of the genetics laboratory, authentically reproduced down to the muted humming of equipment and pervasive chemical odors. The stark metallic sheen of the complex perfectly reflected the cold, utilitarian Ilkrian mindset, which Naerkail had come to detest. Clobots, versatile, if faceless, androids designed to assume any shape pertinent to a task, attended to the manual labor involved in the research while teams of Ilkrian scientists supervised various projects from surrounding bulb chambers. Eventually, the life sustaining fluids opaqued as the Ilkrians slumbered in a brief period of stasis.
With the exception of the last chamber.
Dispassionately, Naerkail watched her former self as a maintenance clobot approached her bulb chamber and received her instructions for the initiation of an experimental and highly controversial transmutation process. The transformation was scheduled to commence before the end of the stasis period. The clobot was then to purge all pertinent information from the central computer memory upon completion of the process. A team of maintenance clobots would smuggle her humanoid form from the laboratory complex onto a shuttle scheduled to rendezvous with buyers anxious for the priceless information she possessed. Naerkail’s incriminating words echoed loudly as the clobot acknowledged her instructions.
“Now are you convinced?” the Speaker demanded. “Or are you going to claim that this transmission is a figment of our imaginations?”
She turned with ill-concealed impatience. “Speaker, even a lowly landscaping clobot could fabricate evidence using sophisticated editing techniques. How can anyone prove themselves innocent against such technical wizardry, especially when such technology is within the average citizen’s reach? I ask the same questions again and again, but fail to hear a reasonable explanation. How else do you expect me to respond?”
“Then watch!” cried Speaker, his patience finally tried. “We weary of your blatant lies!”
The intrigue continued as Naerkail observed her ungainly gelatinous mass gradually transform into a stunning humanoid female selected from the genetic archives of the nearby Karavori system. Life supporting bulb fluids drained during the evolution of the humanoid and restructured to form an umbilical cobweb around her. Vital signs elevated, signaling the initiation of a myriad of complex physiological functions. Upon her first shuddering breath, Naerkail emerged from the gossamer cobweb and knelt in the tank.
Smiling licentiously, she began to explore her mobile new body. With a gasp, her hands trailed along silken flesh the color of cream. Rounding her hips, she caressed the planes of her torso before moving onto beautifully chiseled arms and legs. Now she fondled her breasts, cradling the swinging mounds in hands. Tweaking the ruddy nipples until they sprang firm, the sensation elicited a gasp of pleasure. Slowly, deliberately, she lay back on the sticky chamber floor. Closing her eyes to the input of her alien mind, she raised her legs into the air and spread them wide. Her hands roamed the virgin territory of her flesh like eager explorers until they found the ripe wetness of her cunt. Probing the dual opening with her fingers, she began to rub the swollen lips in a circular motion. The electric sensation was so intense that a sheen of sweat immediately beaded her skin. She arched almost into a bow as a wave of contractions radiated throughout her body. A searing wetness soaked her thighs until it commingled
with the slick floor. Bucking with the ferocity of a wild animal, her scream echoed loudly in the chamber.
Sated, yet exhausted, she gasped for air and rolled onto her side, her cunt till throbbing. She knew she had experienced the madru too soon, but understood that experience would hone her skill in prolonging the release to perfection. Smiling triumphantly, she considered her choice of body. Vanity had prompted her to embellish the renowned beauty of the lissome Karavori desert savages by creating flecked bronze eyes framed by coarse tresses of copper hair. The hair was a particular triumph, exuding an irresistible musk from a subcutaneous gland peculiar to Karavori females in heat.
Though eager to further explore her body, she realized that time was limited. There would be plenty of opportunities later. Unabashed, she emerged from the chamber, her movements uncoordinated as she wobbled around the laboratory. The solicitous clobot returned with suitable clothing and proceeded to delete her volatile transmutation program from the computer. Naerkail dressed slowly, allowing herself time to practice various movements. The jumpsuit’s shimmering fabric lovingly embraced her body, its weight virtually negligible. She caught her reflection in the chrome doors of a nearby storage compartment and approached with outstretched hands. Fascinated, she stroked her remarkable image, a low keening emanating from her throat.
“Nnn¾Naer¾Naerkaaaill,” she murmured, the workings of teeth and tongue a cumbersome ordeal. “Naerkail. I am Naerkail.”
She smiled and pressed her face to the door, intrigued by the patch of condensation from her breath. The cool surface felt odd against her skin. She stroked the surface again, stuck out her tongue and licked it. Gooseflesh rose on her flesh. Pressing her body against the door, the contact against the unyielding firmness elicited a fiery arousal. With quickening breath, she quickly stripped off her jumpsuit and rubbed her breasts against the metal surface. Condensation fogged her reflection. Unable to control her mounting excitement, she turned, bent over and pressed her ass against the door. Sliding them in a rhythmic motion, she plunged her fingers deep inside her cunt. Despite her attempts to control her response, she bucked only moments before experiencing the shuddering release of madru.
At that point, the clobot completed its erasure of the transmutation program. Apparently unconcerned by Naerkail’s sexual experimentation, it calmly alerted her to the imminent arrival of its two colleagues. She rose unsteadily and quickly dressed, her flesh tingling with each touch of her hands. A moment later, two clobots trundled in a specially altered specimen container. Hurriedly, she retrieved a contraband cache of datacells and hid inside the cylinder. The trio of clobots continued their normal rounds through the complex to avoid arousing the suspicion of the security patrols. The Ilkrians slumbered, oblivious to the treason.
Secreted from the research complex onto a supply transport, the journey to a local unmanned spaceport passed uneventfully. Naerkail emerged from the cramped container placed in a tiny cabin and avidly watched the passing nightscape through a slitted window, unaware of the convoy of insectoid roamers recording her every move. Below, the graceful city of shimmering light unfurled like a vast starfish, its layered appendages housing millions of chamber-bound Ilkrians. Used to the confined realm of the bulb, Naerkail recoiled from the avalanche of unaccustomed sensory intake.
She shook her head. “So this is what I’ve missed,” she mused. “My life wasted in a bulb, cut off from the senses like a lab specimen.” Wistfully, she stared at a humpbacked yellow moon that cast an ethereal glow across the indigo outline of a nearby lake. She regarded the magical scene with awe, her exquisite face reflecting a myriad of emotions. Raising her gaze toward the gauzy spray of stars, a frown crossed her lips. “So much beauty, and what to show for it? I want to live, not merely to exist.”
At length, the transport approached the sprawling spaceport. Swarms of clobots and vehicles efficiently performed tasks essential for the maintenance of Ilkrian society, metal ships and bodies glinting in the moonlight. The transport passed the gleaming hulks of several outbound vessels and approached an illuminated departure pad.
Blue departure lights strobed from the pad as Naerkail boarded a waiting ore freighter whose nocturnal departure to the asteroid belts would cause little suspicion. A clobot crewman escorted her to a secure cabin, her appearance eliciting no response. Within moments, the freighter vertically lifted off. Comfortably settled in a snugseat, she gazed out the viewport and watched the great Ilkrian cities recede into blazing pockets of light.
Once the vessel cleared the planet’s atmosphere, it accelerated sharply toward its destination. The freighter slowed when it reached the outskirts of the asteroid belt skirting the Ilkrian system. Naerkail kept vigil by the viewport, her attention distracted by the wondrous backdrop of stars and gauzy veils of nebulas. The sight of such vastness almost instilled a sensation of vertigo. Reaching for the transparent barrier that separated her from infinity, she ran her fingers across its smooth surface. Between her splayed fingers she noticed movement, almost as though a section of space shimmied. Peering more closely, a multi-winged vessel reminiscent of a barb-tailed insect suddenly emerged from the distortion. Running with minimal lights, the menacing vessel banked toward the freighter and docked.
Outraged murmurs from the Council accompanied by the thrashing of life support fluids. Naerkail, completely immersed in the re-enactment of her treason, did not hear them, her mind and body bewitched by events that fired her body even as she watched.
A muted signal sounded in Naerkail’s cabin. The clobot crewman that had escorted her on board now led her to the docking bay joining the two ships. Without looking back, she stepped through the airlock into the alien vessel. Immersed into an uncomfortably tropical environment, she felt a damp sheen of sweat erupt on her skin. Waiting silently was a group of seven ebony-skinned Glotolou pirates clad in strategically placed armor that gleamed with mirrored brilliance. Chain mail skullcaps adorned their bald, slightly elongated skulls while several jeweled earplugs flanked the narrow crest of their aural lobes. A quartet of gloved fingers clutched fearsome stun-lances, the bulbous heads overtly phallic in shape.
Towering above her, the crew watched her with a predatory hunger reflected in their golden reptilian eyes. Naerkail’s flesh tingled beneath the captain’s insolent stare. Boldly meeting his gaze, she greeted him and his crew in their native language. Despite their resounding silence, she retained her composure, acutely aware of the captain’s glittering eyes raking her body until they fixed on the pendulous outline of her breasts.
“Captain Hydris of the premier Glotolou legion,” he said, curtly gesturing her to follow his stone faced party.
The group proceeded to the end of an armor-decked corridor, their lengthy, heavily booted strides forcing Naerkail to jog behind them. Their powerfully muscled bodies moved with fluid grace, the flex of tendon and sinew powerfully arousing. For a moment, she imagined herself pressed between such strength. At length, the contingent paused before a pair of ornately carved bronze doors that irised open. A circular black marble meeting table surrounded by a dozen chairs awaited within a harshly lit conference room, an array of wall-mounted weapons and armory continuing the militaristic decor of the corridor. Only when the captain and his crew seated themselves did she take the last chair. Feeling their intense scrutiny, Naerkail produced the datacells, each protected by a pulsing blue anti-tamper field. She raised one flashing faceted cube to the light.
“I have the merchandise,” she said. “I trust you’ll find it well worth the asking price of one-hundred-thousand blatar.”
Hydris reclined in his chair and set his booted feet on the table. Around the table, his crew watched guardedly. In the warm, humid air, Naerkail became aware of a strong, gamy odor.
“You maintain these cells contain the genetic blueprints of a thousand races?” he asked with an almost guttural hiss. “How do we know this to be true? The wonders of technology have often proven to be a two-headed serpent. We have been lured many time
s by false promises, especially delivered under the guise of beauty.”
Naerkail impatiently tossed him the one of the cells. “There’s no need to be patronizing, Captain Hydris. I’ve taken untold risks to meet my part of our agreement. Feel free to scan the contents. It may be connected to any standard computer linkup. The information will offer you unlimited possibilities for trade and profit, though my people have little imagination and use the information primarily for research purposes. I, myself, am a creation from one of the blueprints contained in this cell. As you can clearly see, I was transmuted from the confined existence of an Ilkrian support bulb to a free and independent life form.”
Captain Hydris watched her growing interest. Some of the other crew shifted and moved closer. The gamy reek grew stronger, almost cloying.
“Consider for a moment the power at your fingertips,” she continued. “You could create a race of clobots for long-term exploration or settle an uninhabited planet and engineer your own race. Think of the power, the riches that could be yours. The only limits are set by your imagination.”
Hydris contemplated her intently as she spoke, though her actual words soon faded into background drone. Glancing at the posture of his crew and the accelerated breathing, he knew they were also aroused. His nasal beak twitched at the aroma of her sex so blatantly outlined by the skimpy garment she wore.
“Enough talk,” he barked, abruptly rising to his feet and unbuckling his body molded armor. “We will accept your offer, but first we want a gesture of goodwill.”
A heady sense of unreality coursed through Naerkail as her eyes devoured the captain’s superbly muscled naked body. Completely poreless, his skin shone with a hypnotic blue-black intensity. His slitty golden eyes were the only variation of color, strikingly emphasized by soaring cheekbones and pouting, sensual lips. His insolent half-smile revealed a row of serrated ebony teeth. Yet all his savage beauty was instantly eclipsed by the emergence of his enormous cock from an orifice between his legs. It hesitated momentarily and wavered as though sniffing the air, then rose like a serpent toward her.