by Tristan Vick
As Cassera tipsily swayed in the doorway, Jegra noticed that she had a bottle of something orange in her hands. She raised it to her lips, tipped her head back, and took a deep gulp, and then slowly lowered her gaze until it met Jegra’s. They held one another’s gazes and an ebrious grin slowly spread across Cassera’s beautiful Prussian blue lips.
“Watching you two made me … *hic*” she stopped herself, putting a fist to her mouth to prevent another hiccup from escaping, and then raised a finger, as if to say, hold on for just a moment and forced the subsequent hiccup back down. Having defeated a bout of hiccups, she looked up and said, “Wetter than a Brilaxian eel!”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Jegra laughed. She had no clue what a Brilaxian eel was.
Cassera stumbled across the room and, tripping on her own feet, fell into Jegra’s arms. Stabilizing them both, Jegra set her back on her feet and smiled at her. She never expected that the vice admiral was even capable of letting down her hair like this. Yet, here she was.
Propped up against Jegra’s body, Cassera leaned in, deliberately rubbing herself against Jegra’s soft flesh and nestling in to her, and kicked back her head and guzzled the orange stuff straight from the bottle. It smelled of mead and carrot juice, but with a significantly higher alcohol content.
Everything in the Dagon Empire had to be the best; the strongest, the rarest, the most desired, which meant, consequently, the alcohol was always the finest money could buy, and there was always plenty to be had. Dagons were intemperate, to say the least. And they liked their alcohol just as they liked their sex—rich and fulfilling.
Cassera pulled down her evening gown’s spaghetti straps and let it slip off her body. The navy blue of her erect nipples stood upon her cobalt skin in the cool air. She then pushed Jegra back onto the bed. Luckily, the emperor was out like a light and remained undisturbed.
“You want girl on girl or guy on girl?” Cassera asked, slowly crawling onto the bed.
Jegra smiled and brushed back her hair as she watched the Cassera climb onto her, straddling her waist with her blue thighs.
Cassera discarded the bottle and it rattled when it hit the floor. She slowly slid down the length of Jegra’s body, dappling her sunbaked bosom with a spread of feathery light kisses. By the time Cassera reached Jegra’s neck, Jegra was just starting to get turned on. But then she heard the light sound of snoring coming from Cassera’s half open mouth.
“Cassera?” Jegra asked, craning her neck to find Cassera fast asleep and breathing warm breath into her neck. “Honey?” She gave the vice admiral a nudge, hoping to rouse her, but it was no use. She was out cold.
Unable to make love to Cassera, Jegra sighed disappointedly and then slowly pushed Cassera off of her. The Dagon slipped onto her side and drearily threw her right arm across Jegra’s chest and went back to snoring.
Jegra stroked the blue woman’s hair and admired her Prussian blue lips. Unable to resist stealing a kiss, Jegra leaned in and touched her lips to Cassera’s lips. They tasted of the orange tonic that she’d finished off earlier. “Sweet dreams,” Jegra said in a soft voice, being sure not to wake the blue sleeping beauty next to her.
Apparently, when it came to Cassera, who seemed to be wound up tighter than most, a little alcohol went a long way with her. Jegra made a mental note of it.
Although she didn’t get the second round of love making she’d hoped for, for some reason she felt satisfied just holding the sleeping Dagon woman in her arms and letting Cassera nestle up beside her as fell away into an even deeper slumber. The poor woman was exhausted. As for Jegra, she was finally feeling an ounce of affection from a woman she wanted desperately to impress. Which is why she didn’t want to let a single moment go to waste.
Jegra curled up on the bed between the two sleeping Dagons, wrapped her arms around Cassera’s perfectly cobalt-blue body, placed her cheek on the top of Cassera’s silver head, and then dozed off to sleep.
In the morning, Jegra was aroused by the chatter of a large gaggle of women. She opened her eyes to find about a dozen women scurrying about.
Jegra shot up in bed and covered her private bits the best she could. “Who are you?” she asked. Noticing that both the emperor and Cassera were gone, she added, “Where’s Cassera and Rhadamanthus?”
“Oh, isn’t that sweet?” one of the green-skinned Bre’lal women said. “She thinks because he lets her use his first name that she’s somehow special.”
“Knock it off, Gaela. You were once in her shoes. And if you recall, you were the one who passed out before the Rhadamanthus could finish.”
“Besides,” a purple skinned woman with an orange mohawk chimed in, “She managed to bed Cassera. None of us had ever had that pleasure.”
“You must be the emperor’s wives,” Jegra said.
A fourth woman, with ivory skin, black eyes, and short, cropped black hair brought Jegra her clothes. She didn’t say anything, but Jegra nodded in thanks and began to dress herself.
“So, is it true what they say about you Terrans?” Gaela began, her eyes narrowing as she judged Jegra silently. “You like to wear the stink of your own sweat-laden ravishment as a perfume? I’ve heard you will go days on end without bathing?!”
“No. I mean … sometimes. Wait. That’s not…” Jegra didn’t know how to reply to such a mean-spirited attack.
“Ignore her,” another woman said. Jegra turned to see a woman knitting in the corner of the room. She had three eyes and a large green head, but looked very pretty. “She’s just jealous.”
“Jealous? Of me?”
Gaela folded her arms and huffed angrily. “I’m not jealous. I just don’t know what he sees in her. I mean, she’s a slave girl, for crying out loud!”
“She’s Lord Dakroth’s bride to be!” a voice boomed.
All the women grew silent and turned to gaze upon the head mistress. Lady Dakroth, the first of the wives. She was, of course, Dagoni. Her skin was pale blue, like that of a gorgeous lagoon. “She’ll be one of our sisters, soon enough. So, you will respect her as you respect me. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, mum,” Gaela replied, lowering her eyes in remorse.
“Come dear,” Lady Dakroth said, taking Jegra’s hand in hers and guiding her to her side. “Let me introduce you to the rest of Lord Dakroth’s harem. First, let me inform you that Rhadamanthus picks a favorite woman almost every cycle to add to his harem. Although you’re special, you’re only as special as the next woman he chooses. Some people would do well to remember that.” She shot a menacing look at Gaela, who diverted her eyes and, being shunned by the head mistress, scurried out of the bedroom.
“What do I call you, mistress?”
“My name is Jennica.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jennica. I’m…”
“I know who you are, Jegra. Everyone who has ever turned on a televid knows who you are. In fact, I’d be surprised if there wasn’t a single soul in this entire system who didn’t know who you are.”
“You flatter me,” Jegra said, bowing.
Jennica reached down and pulled up Jegra’s chin. “No, my dear. You flatter me by showing undeserved reverence. Although you are rough around the edges, you have a good heart. I can see that. But I should warn you. Some of these women are less like you and I and more like Lord Dakroth.”
“Ambitious?” asked Jegra.
“I was going to say ruthless,” Jennica replied.
Both women leaned into one another and laughed.
“Well, he is that too, I suppose,” Jegra said.
Just then the doors swooshed open and Emperor Dakroth entered. About half the women squealed with glee, ran up to him, and immediately began stroking him and rubbing their hands all over him like a bunch of sex-starved nymphs.
“Ladies, ladies, all in due time! There’s plenty of me to go around. But first, I should probably inform you that I have a special day planned for you all.
“Oh, do tell!” the purple skinned
woman pleaded.
“My dear wives,” he said, his tone jovial. “It has come to my attention that there are just far too many of you. As much fun as we have had together, and the memories we’ve shared, I’m afraid that the time has come to pick one–and only one wife to inherit the title of Imperatrix.”
Gasps broke out all across the room and a couple of women began sobbing.
Although Jegra wasn’t quite sure what Dakroth was on about, she could see that his words had caught even the attention of Jennica.
“I knew this day would come,” Jennica whispered from behind clenched teeth. She shot Jegra a sad look and then began to inch away, toward the back of the room.
That’s when Jegra knew something was gravely wrong.
“But don’t be disheartened my loves. If anything, I’m a fair man. Which is why I’ve designed a little contest for you all to compete in to win the coveted position as my one true empress!”
“What is it?” Gaela asked, falling to her knees at Dakroth’s feet. “Tell me–and I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for you!”
“It’s simple,” he said, looking down into her eyes. And as he answered her, he issued the rules of the contest to all the wives in his harem. “All you have to do is fight to the death. The last one standing wins everything!”
Dakroth let out a hardy chuckle and then excused himself from the room. Once the doors had shut behind him, one of his more overzealous wives ran after him.
“My Lord, don’t leave me!” she cried out, but when she came to the door she found it was locked.
“We’re sealed in,” she said in complete dismay. As she turned around, something struck her in the head. She reached up and touched the large gash with her hand. Gaela stood in front of her, eyes wild, her body shaking as she held a thick crystal vase in her trembling hands.
“No! Please, don’t do this,” the other wife pleaded. But Gaela didn’t wait for her to finish her sentence before she struck her again. The woman yelped like an ill-fated animal and fell to her knees. This only spurred Gaela on further. She was determined, and she struck a final, lethal blow to the poor woman’s head.
Gaela turned around, blood dripping off the vase, and grinned at the rest of the women maniacally.
The entire harem of women shared stunned glances as the room fell deathly silent. Jegra knew that Jennica had foreseen this terrible outcome minutes earlier, knowing Dakroth’s penchant for cruelty. Likely, this wasn’t the first time this had happened. And if so, Jegra knew that Jennica was a contender.
Pandemonium broke loose as the gaggle of women began attacking one another, clawing and biting with a barbaric viciousness that shocked even Jegra.
Red laser beams flickered across the room and Jegra ducked, tucked, and rolled. She looked over her shoulder to see two wives drop. Their headless necks smoldered from where Jennica’s lasers had cut them.
“Jegra!” Gaela shouted, pointing the bloodied vase at her opponent. “You’re next, you filth-ridden land cow!”
Gaela dashed forward, shoving everyone out of the way to get to Jegra. Although she had spunk, Gaela was no match for Jegra. Just to prove that point, Jegra let Gaela smash the vase across her jaw.
Gaela watched in dismay as the thick crystal shattered against Jegra’s unflinching jaw.
Shards of crystal rained to the ground, making a pleasant tinkling noise as they reverberated off the cold, hard surface. Popping her knuckles, Jegra grinned down at Gaela. “My turn.”
Frightened, Gaela tried to turn and flee, but Jegra swiftly caught her by her shoulder and, in one fluid twist of the hips, flung Gaela across the room–directly at Jennica.
Jennica’s lasers sawed Gaela’s body in half. Her torso and legs hit at the same time but skidded off in different directions.
Jennica and Jegra made eye contact and Jegra whispered, “Oh, shit!”
Leaping behind a couple of women who were busy wrestling and pulling each other’s hair, Jegra slid to the banister of the second floor in which the royal rumble had spilled out onto.
Not wasting a second, she leapt up and over the railing and crashed down in the fountain. Looking up, she saw two orange, glowing holes appear in both women’s heads and watched them fall away.
Above her, a flurry of laser blasts danced about in such a way that it reminded her of a light show. She heard screams as women were sliced and diced by Jennica’s lasers. Knowing she’d be next if she didn’t act fast, she quickly grabbed the marble statue of Dakroth that stood at the center of the fountain and tore it off its pedestal.
“Let’s see you dodge this, sister,” Jegra growled, lobbing the hunk of rock toward the second floor.
The marble shot through the floor like a battle cruiser’s missile tearing into the hull of an enemy ship and then impacted against the back wall.
The statue shattered upon impact and broke into smaller chunks which ricocheted off the wall and flew back in a debris storm. Jegra listened intently as the screams turned to whimpers and then faded to silence.
“Nice try, but you’ll need to do better if you hope to defeat me,” Jennica said, emerging from the haze of dust and debris.
Jegra took a step back as Jennica aimed a red glowing fingertip at her as though it were a blaster.
“This isn’t the first melee I’ve survived, little one. There’s a reason I’m the alpha of this harem.”
“What harem?” Jegra said. “All I see is blood and dead bodies.”
“Exactly,” Jennica said, a vicious grin curling onto her luxurious lips. “And I’m afraid you’re next.
A blast of light flew from Jennica’s fingertip and penetrated Jegra’s right shoulder. Jegra screamed out in pain and fell backward. She landed hard on the ground and began backpedaling as Jennica eased up on her.
“That was just the low setting. Shall we try the high setting, luv?”
Jegra’s back found the wall and she grunted from the surge of pain that shot through her body like a thousand red hot needles. The hole was still smoldering when her healing factor kicked in, but a blast like that between the eyes would, in all likelihood, end her.
Stuck with nowhere to go, she gripped her shoulder and stared back at Jennica with a look as sharp as daggers.
6
Emperor Dakroth peered out across steepled fingers and watched the activity beyond the view portal of his royal battle cruiser, the Dreadnaught.
Shuttles and other small space craft zoomed in and out of Thessalonica’s shimmering blue atmosphere as commerce continued on as usual. It was almost as though he wasn’t anxiously awaiting the news of which woman would emerge victorious from his sick and twisted little game of “last wife standing,” tearing apart his harem with no holds barred. A game it took a while to set up, but which he never got tired of playing.
Oh, well, he thought to himself. It was about time to start fresh anyway.
The bridge doors slid open and Dakroth swiveled around in his throne chair at the center of a colossal oval room to see who’d entered. Display panels all around him blinked and flashed as a dozen bridge crewmen manned their stations.
The throne was raised above the officers who sat below in a relief. A long walkway stretched from the main door all the way to the throne. The throne itself sat before a large glass viewing portal that allowed Dakroth to see everything beyond the bow of his ship. And everything was his for the taking.
“You summoned me, my lord?” Vice Admiral Cassera Van Danica Amelorak asked, taking a deep bow.
“Yes, it’s about time to check on our victor. And I wanted to ask you about that other thing as well.” The emperor stood up and beckoned Cassera with a nod to walk with him.
Once they left the busy work of the bridge and stepped out into the wide corridors of the cruiser, Dakroth locked his arms behind his back and asked, “Did you run the tests?”
Cassera looked at him with a profound expression. “It was as you predicted. When I got the analysis back, I found that my DNA had been rewritten
by thirteen percent.”
“And you’re positive it was being with her that caused the alteration?”
“I ran the test before and after as you commanded. It’s definitive. Jegra’s body is overriding our genetic code and rewriting it.”
“Rewriting it to be what, exactly?” asked Dakroth, his left eyebrow rising inquisitively on his face.
“To be human,” Cassera answered.
“And how much of a threat is she to me?”
“At this stage, if you continue your gene therapy sessions with me, I say you can safely copulate with Jegra a dozen more times. But our physical therapy can only curtail the effects. This isn’t some simple interplanetary transspecies pansexual disease we’re talking about here. This is a full rewiring of what constitutes Dagon DNA.”
They rounded a corner and walked in contemplative silence for a few klicks and then Dakroth stopped and looked at Cassera with a grin.
“If she should be the one to survive today, I want you to study this more. In detail. There may be a way to reverse engineer whatever she is doing to our DNA and weaponize it.”
“Anything for you, my lord,” Cassera said, throwing her right arm across her chest and bowing.
“Of course,” Lord Dakroth continued, tossing his silver hair over his shoulder. “If she is dead, I’ll need you to gather her remains so we can study them in other ways.”
Cassera nodded. Just then they arrived at Dakroth’s quarters. He motioned for Cassera to open the door and go in ahead of him. She swiped her hand over the door censor and the red lamp switched to green. A pleasant chime accompanied it and the doors opened wide.
“You son of a bitch,” Jegra said, hunched over in the doorway. She was panting heavily and was soaked head to toe in fresh blood. Blood rained down from the ceiling and walls and she was bleeding profusely from numerous laser wounds. Jegra held her gut tightly, applying pressure to what appeared to be a severe laceration across the middle of her abdomen.