Hera closed her eyes. It was as though life was being blown into her from the mouths of these three humans. Her breasts were living things! Churning with life! She squeezed them as the three mouths sucked, devoured. She felt fingers stroking her flesh, which responded with uncontainable tremors, stroking her down to her belly, pushing her suit down her legs to her ankles and stripping it off. She lay completely naked with other creatures for the first time in her life. The fear was still there, but it was overwhelmed by a pleasure that kept steadily mounting.
She felt something tickling the lips of her vagina. She shuddered at this unknown sensation, but the tickling became more intense, and something was parting the lips, entering. She felt her whole body tightly clamping against the intrusion, but then soothing voices conspired to relax her, and she sucked eagerly at the brandy bottle held to her mouth. But she still shuddered as Wanda’s tongue licked and probed and pushed ever inward, evoking an increasing sluice of moisture as its flickering movements continued. Hera was startled by a deep groan, a voice she didn’t recognise. And then she realised – it was herself! Another, deeper, escaped her, and momentarily she felt like a bystander, a watcher of her own situation. But as the tongue gave way to something far larger harder and thicker, this brief objectivity was swept away in a tidal wave of sweet, gargantuan pleasure tinged with pain as Xavier’s penis slid in, opening an unfamiliar depth of space inside her and slowly filling it with itself in one assured, gliding movement.
Hera knelt on all fours on the ruffled hotel bed. Wanda lay beneath, sucking at her triple breasts. Both were shaking as Xavier’s muscular body penetrated Hera from behind. Lying flat on the bed, with his head between Xavier’s legs, Tyler was assiduously licking Wanda’s vagina, exposed to his dexterous tongue between splayed thighs. The contrast between the dark skin of the three humans and Hera’s lunar whiteness was startling.
Captain Pythis, watching, though unmoved by the performance, was not blind to the crude aesthetics of the threesome. Callidora, his second-in-command sat next to him, the performance in the holo-image bathing her inscrutable profile.
‘I can’t believe you let her go, Captain.’
‘And why? I’m still in control. I could see it coming anyway. Occasionally, perhaps because of some flaw in the tour company’s vetting procedure, someone overly susceptible like Hera gets through.’
‘But I don’t see how she can do all this, with these … these animals. Even if her desexing programming was inadequate, how could she stoop so low?’
Despite her apparent disgust, Callidora couldn’t tear her eyes from the scene before her.
The black girl was holding her arms tight as, flat on the bed, Hera let out a continual groaning interspersed with pleadings as the black man, matted to her buttocks and back, drove himself into her.
Pythis laughed.
‘My dear, a penis is a penis, wherever it appears. We have the cursed things too.’
He visualized the shrunken piece of flaccidity flush between his legs. Did it really bear any relation to the huge “pork sword”, as he’d heard the humans refer to it, that the other black man toyed with, as he watched his friend’s frenzied performance?
‘Besides, too much exposure to this stuff –’ he gave a dismissive brush at the holo-image ‘– seems able to overcome any amount of desexing. The sight of human animals and other primitive races “fucking” seems to have a kind of raw power that can stir up long-dormant desires.’
‘So why are we endangering ourselves now, Captain?’
‘We’re in no danger. And besides, I have to check the quality of Hera’s performance. I do hope there’s more to come.’
‘What do you mean, Captain?’
‘I mean, Lieutenant, that there’s a market for this stuff back home, believe it or not.’
Callidora looked curiously at Pythis before turning back to the screen, to see Hera and her “lover” bouncing off the bed in startlingly perfect unison – the black man cursing, Hera’s arms clasping him frantically to her.
‘Sex With Aliens is one of the company’s extra lines – comic-pornography under the guise of “education”. It’s quite profitable. I’ll cut you in for a share, if you like – a Lieutenant’s salary isn’t much better than a Captain’s.’
Callidora, though familiar with Pythis’s cynicism, was a little scandalised.
‘Unfortunately, though, much of the stuff we sell sooner or later finds its way into the hands of the Radicals who use it to try and get their misguided followers breeding again. They plan to breed an army to overthrow the Authority, can you believe that?’
‘But aren’t you and the company helping them by selling this stuff?’
‘As our sportive humans say, my dear, “A buck is a buck.” But don’t worry, our holo-tapes are designed to dissolve after just a few viewings. Though, worryingly, the Radicals’ scientists are working on a way to override the fail-safe mechanism.’
Hera’s groans and gasps, increasing in intensity, filled Pythis’s quarters. She was bent double, her posture maximising the last deep thrusts of the black man’s penis. Her face – pressed into the sheets, flushed red, the eyes tightly shut – was contorted in what looked to Callidora to be a kind of blissful agony. It finally became insupportable. The male, gripping her firmly around the waist, unleashed his hitherto valiantly withheld semen. Hera, bucking with the force of its release, gave a cry halfway between a curse and gratitude, flailing within his arms in orgasm.
Hours later, after debating with herself on a park bench, Hera returned to the ship. She asked Pythis to assign her different duties and accepted the docking of pay and the more serious bad conduct mark which would stain her otherwise pristine service record. She didn’t care much. The old Hera would have cared, the new one – for she was new, transformed from the inside out – was indifferent. She knew there were more important things now. Such as feeling fully alive and fulfilled.
At 80 years of age, Hera was halfway through her life, but the first half had been lived as an automaton, and she was determined the rest of it would not be so wasted. But her brooding on how she could effect her emotional and sexual liberation was interrupted by the news that Callidora brought. Hera was to undergo immediate and full-scale hormonal neutralisation accompanied by cerebral synaptic realignment.
Fortunately for Hera, Pythis trusted Callidora to oversee her treatment. For Callidora, the Captain’s holo-porn bootlegging activities, coupled with his treatment of Hera, were the last nail in the coffin of her allegiance to her place in their society’s frigid status quo.
‘We have to do our bit in the overthrow of the Authority,’ she told Hera, both of them floating outside the vast hull of the ship in their vacuum-suits, looking up at the beautiful cloud-swathed planet.
‘I can understand that, at one time, our population had to be rigidly controlled in order to preserve our world’s resources and ecosystems. But population has been falling now for decades, and even if it rose again, we have the colonies to take the overflow. There’s no need for the Authority to continue sterilisation. Who are these bastard old men, these damned gerontocrats, to tell us what we can and can’t do with our bodies!’
‘But where do we start?’ Hera, recognising the North American landmass above her, was hungering for her human friends.
‘Here and now.’
‘What? Mutiny?’
‘No. We have to get Pythis on our side. And then head home and make contact with the Radicals.’
That night, Callidora slid into Pythis’s quarters and injected dream nano-serum into his arm. She’d spent the last few hours uploading selections from the Captain’s holo-porn banks into the serum which, as she pulled down his sleeve, and crept back to Hera’s quarters, would already be taking effect.
‘Sweet dreams, Pythis – and sticky ones.’
Something swam across Pythis’s unconsciousness. It swam back and stopped. It was female, with flowing, hair-fine filaments waving in the deep current on its he
ad. A large, full-lipped orifice was mouthing some kind of greeting, its urgency accentuated with beckoning hands and lascivious flickerings of its long, curvaceous body, ending in the broad fan of a tail studded with luminosity. It was a fine specimen of the Mergirls of the ocean planet Nepente.
The nipples of her large, oscillating breasts glowed with luminosity too, and below her navel, hung with a necklace of scintillating points of light, her vagina was visible, glowing a hot pink through the semi-opacity of her piscine flesh; for it was mating season.
Her huge eyes shone and the lips almost split the face with a smile of recognition as she sped away, hotly pursued by her chosen mate. The Merman’s erect member a third of the length of his long body, curved upwards in a horn shape toward a pointed head which, as the water rushed over it in his pursuit, forced a stream of tiny, glistening bubbles of semen away from its spear-tip.
But would he catch her before the rush of his progress forced his ejaculation? Pythis’s consciousness followed. There she was, just ahead, the fan of her tail driving her rapidly upwards.
The Merman followed her up through the lightening water until she broke the surface. A bright golden sun was pouring out of a bright green sky, flooding with iridescence a spit of sand. The Mergirl plopped out of the water and lay down upon it, her vagina beating bright red like a heart, its every shell-like convolution palpitating with expectancy.
The Merman burst through the surface and landed on his back next to the girl. It was an ungainly arrival, but the girl laughed in appreciation and immediately the Merman had broken through the thin hymenal covering of fine scales that shielded the entrance to the girl’s vulva and the whole horn was thrust unceremoniously inside. Pythis, close enough to touch, could see it penetrate through the soft, whorling configuration of her vagina, which ingested it in tight rhythmic swallows. Their bodies locked, their tails flapping, they rolled blindly in the rhythm of coitus, back and forth across the wet sand, until they hit the water again, rolling in and rolling out, churning the waves of the shallows into foam.
The thrashing of tails became the swaying of a vast field of a kind of crimson-coloured plant. Suddenly, a great wave of shadow swept across them, accompanied by the beating of wings, and Pythis’s vision was crowded by a host of excited naked arms and long legs borne up by sweeping, diaphanous wings, in whose beatings long strands of multicoloured hair swished, entangled. The stalks were now rigid, the crimson tubular skin drawn back on bulbous empurpled heads glistening in the sunlight. On these the winged females began to settle, after much jostling and argumentation and aerial fussiness. Some of the penile stamens of the sentient plants were too big, some too small for the numberless vulvas whose outfolded lips gleamed with moisture – a moisture manually encouraged by the fingers of the Aerials – which often dripped over a stamen, redoubling it in size and bringing it almost to the point of bursting, before the choosy Aerial flitted blithely on in search of a more commodious fit.
When the Aerials found what they were looking for – guided, seemingly, not just by the stamens’ dimensions, but by smell, colour, and other, indefinable factors – they drew up their long, slim, pink or white or brown legs. Then, their vulva lips drawn back to their full extent – pressed back manually in some cases – they sank down upon the chosen head, dextrously controlling its precipitate eagerness with deft and subtle flutters of their wings and limbs. Pierced through, they swayed back and forth as they rode. Sometimes they were unseated, accidentally or by intent, and teasingly remounted the frantically bulging stamens whose network of engirdling arteries visibly throbbed with the surge of fluid.
Soon the air echoed with the resounding orgasmic cries of the Aerials as, one after another, they broke like bubbles under the explosive release of the stamen heads buried deep within their delicate bodies. Satisfied, the Aerials raised themselves off the stamens and fluttered off, leaving them to wilt, though here and there one still stood proudly erect, the parted eye in its head acting as an ear, listening for a fresh wave of wing beats. And on they came, the stamens stood firm again, and Pythis’s vision was crowded with arms, scrabbling fingers and toes, and sparkling, dripping juices.
The images changed. A huge, shaggy-haired, leonine tribesman was chasing a supple-limbed, catlike female through a dense jungle. He burst into a clearing. She was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, she dropped upon his back, her prehensile tail wrapping tightly around him, its tip probing beneath his loose loincloth to draw out his already stiff penis. She swung around, her tail coiling round the shaft. Dropping before him, she pulled it toward her mouth … The image changed again … and again …
Now a dark-skinned female humanoid knelt before a dark-skinned male, pulling his huge penis back and forth. With hand on hip, he pushed it in her mouth, swabbing it within, drawing it out, the female licking and playing her full lips rapidly up and down the thickly engorged shaft. The female turned round to face Pythis, and he could see the phallus angled between her backthrust buttocks and driven into her vagina, with a force which pushed her toward him. A smile broke across her face. Pythis jumped as if hit with electricity. Her fingers had touched him!
‘Hold on, Tyler, our guest’s awake. Wanna join in the action, Cap?’
Pythis’s perception resolved itself. He was tied up on the hotel bed where he’d watched Hera’s antics with the earthlings. He looked down at his nakedness. He was there. This was no dream.
The black female had untied him and, keeping a handgun trained upon his head, was grinding her hips against his genital area as he lay back on the bed. Another naked female, this one white, sucked at the black girl’s breasts, while the black girl fondled hers in return. Pythis could hear the two black males playing cards in an adjoining room. There was no immediate prospect of escape. Though he felt peculiarly reluctant to make a determined effort.
He was feeling something grow stronger and more pronounced with each lithe grind of the black girl’s hips, something he only recalled dimly feeling many years before, when he was a youngster. He tried to drum up real anger against Hera and Callidora for what they’d done. For he knew he’d been injected with nano-serum loaded with the finest holo-images from his bank of alien pornography and handed over to these sex-crazed apes.
The two mutineers were doubtless watching right now, and doubtless recording the proceedings to use against him. Still, he couldn’t work up the fury he should be feeling. He could still see the plethora of strange matings from the serum shifting before his eyes, and in the middle of them, the black girl, massaging him with her hips. He could feel a strip of warm moistness. He could feel heat building in his groin, a dead part of his body twitching into life, his heart began picking up speed, the girl, grinning, began to move faster, the white girl began caressing his huge chest, and kissing his mouth, her two white breasts pressing their points into his rapidly sensitizing skin …
Hera couldn’t help the surge of envy almost choking her as she watched Wanda’s hips grinding into the Captain and the suckings of her breasts by the naked white girl. Her three nipples were tingling and eddies of cellular electricity were swirling round her clitoris, concentrating themselves there. She craved to be touched. How would Callidora react if she took her hand? Suddenly, the holo-image flickered and collapsed.
‘What’s happened?’
‘I think he’s on to us,’ said Callidora. Found a way to disable the signal. He’s a resourceful man, Hera.’
‘What do we do?’
‘I don’t know. Wait … but … what’s wrong, Hera? Why are you looking at me like that?’
Hera reached out and gently caressed Callidora’s face.
‘I’m sorry, I can’t help myself. I’m alive and I can’t stop it.’
‘What’s it like, this “alive” feeling?’
‘I don’t have the words to describe it. I can only show you, Callidora.’
‘So, show me.’
Hera kissed Callidora. Her lips were so soft! The skin of her long neck was soft too, a
nd firm, and growing warm. She lay back in the chair and let Hera pull down her zip, her lips escorting its slow progress down over her great compressed mound of firm breasts, releasing them.
The light flashing on Callidora’s wrist console alerted her to the fact that Pythis’s personal pod had been activated and had left the ship, doubtless to pick him up. But it didn’t seem to matter. She lay back and savoured the delicious sensation of Hera’s tongue lapping at her moist vaginal lips, her tongue-tip flicking her clitoris, flooding her with waves of vibrant pleasure. Callidora was learning fast, or relearning something innate and ineradicable. Again, her fingers sought Hera’s vagina – or “pussy” as Hera preferred to call it – and caressed the moist, unbelievable softness. This elicited groans from her friend and redoubled the urgency with which her tongue licked Callidora’s pussy. Callidora lost all sense of time as waves of pleasure bore her and Hera away …
Suddenly, she was startled awake. She patted Hera, who woke too and almost leaped out of the bed. Pythis was standing over them, flanked by two burly, grinning security men.
‘I’ll deal with this. Back to your stations.’
The men withdrew with lingering backward looks.
‘Have you two any idea what I can do to you for what you’ve done?’
Hera shook her head childishly. Callidora looked round for something to hit him with. Better to go out with a fight.
Pythis pulled the sheet away from their love-stained nakedness. He smiled.
‘I’m not a hundred per cent sure myself but I’m going to give it a damn good try.’ With that, he undid his belt strip and pulled out a great missile of a penis.
‘With your permission, ladies.’
They were both too stunned to say anything as Pythis stripped off and climbed between them.
‘We’ve got a lot to learn. The whole planetful of us. But I’ve hired some help.’ Pythis activated the door lock. Xavier, Tyler, Wanda and the white girl walked in.
Deliberate Display - five erotic voyeur and exhibitionist stories Page 4