This is the G.S. Wunderjahr, A Generation Ship launched in the final days of human residency on the planet Earth (location). The massive ship is home to two sentient species both derived from the same gene pool from Earth and both very much un-aware of each other. The mission was a preprogrammed 13 generation journey to the planet Wunderjahr located in the M-13 Globular Cluster. Unbeknownst to the present generations the original flight plan has long since been discarded because of unforeseen technological advances (mainly) in Engine design and species longevity. The original program is much more powerful then the two species' could foresee and now it is long into generation 13 on a ship that was never meant to go any further.

Well then...

Popeye and Kisha

By the time Popeye realized that there had been a substantial drop in gravity it was too late really. His arms were already heated up by the climb, his back was stretched as tight as one of his sister's canvases, and the saltwater was flowing out of every pore as if it was raining from inside his body while the rainforest canopy was misting him steadily with a freshwater shower.
Up somehow seemed not and down was so far down that it was best not to think that way. Down, that way was the way to the past and the past no longer was a part of him, best to just let that go for now. Now, climb, faster. The higher he climbed the thinner the flora around him became so that as his feet and hands passed along each twig it felt as though he wasn't really touching them, as though his entire mass wasn't landing on and suddenly springing from each tiny branch. But he was, and with each step and grab and leap and twist his lithe form seemed to become lighter and lighter until at last the massive canopy of the giant Strongwood trees spit him out into a perfect floating quiet.
By reflex alone he reached out with his left arm to catch hold of some kind of pole heading the same direction he was, made of what felt like solid silk. His hand could easily clasp around the pole but the pole was so perfectly smooth that it offered no resistance for slowing him down. Of course he tried to wrap his entire body around the pole but his velocity only seemed to increase. Popeye Kahn was now traveling faster than anyone he'd ever known. Suddenly in the distance he could see what looked to be a kind of convergence of these solid silk spikes that he now realized were all around him, descending in a slight curve and seeming to go on forever in the direction of, up? The sun was so blindingly bright that he felt as if his skin could be burned off at any second but there was no wind, and the sun felt almost cool, not hot at all, and was (of all the freaked out things) down. Yes, down: the wrong way to look.
As his speed increased even more, all around him it was perfectly silent. By the time Popeye realized how fast he was going and how totally strange it felt to be able to live through this incredible experience, he also came to the conclusion that his environment was quickly coming to an end. At the end of the convergence of silk spikes was what felt like a wall of thick glass held together by a thin mesh made of what seemed to be the same material as the spikes. Popeye passed through the glass with the expected shattering sound and feel, then was very rudely re-introduced to the concept of gravity.
His speed was slowed by busting through two well built walls and a finely crafted living room set, the origin of which was completely unimaginable to him. He came to a rest of sorts on a pile of wall rubble and a couch cushion softer than the most comfortable bed in his home town of KC. Upon opening his eyes he was met with the most perfectly delivered punch he'd ever felt aimed squarely at his Adam's apple. Matter of fact, if he hadn't twisted slightly to the right just before impact, the blow surely would have killed him. But this kind of a struggle, Popeye Kahn was indeed all too used to.
Two blocked blows and a slight kick to the knee of his opponent put enough distance between him and the strangest little person he'd ever seen to give him time to jump, kick, then grab the structure in the ceiling of this very strange place. He managed to pull his entire weight up through a grid of silk spike material for about 10 meters before he felt a tiny metallic snake wrap around his leg and tighten so quickly that it easily cut through his pants. He was then yanked backward like a whip and pinned to the floor by the tiny figure. He realized it was dressed in a suit made of this strange new material that seemed to be used for pretty much everything in this new, very weird world that didn 't even exist until about 30 seconds ago. What was left of his tattered shirt was flayed open with a brush of the person's tentacles. Person? Although completely covered from head to toe with this slick black, perfectly smooth material, he could plainly make out the head, arms, and torso of a human. Small and obviously strong as hell, this person was most definitely female. His hands and both legs were bound to the cold hard surface of the floor by her tentacles in a way that made even the slightest move of his limbs excruciatingly painful.
Frozen in pain, all he could do was watch as the small figure 's head came so close to his face that he could see his reflection perfectly on the surface of her mask. Suddenly two small openings appeared where the nostrils would be on a human. As the tiny holes widened, the person inside the suit dove her face into his sweat-covered chest hair and took a long deep inward breath. The small head came up quickly and a strange, what appeared to be smile stretched the material just below the holes in the mask. Another tentacle appeared over the creatures 'head and slowly, silently wrapped around his neck. Once again the tiny head disappeared toward his torso, but this time she rammed deep in his armpit with a great inhaling sound quickly followed by a loud primitive chuffing. A sigh emitted from mask as she raised her head, and he saw the slow stretching smile again. Supported by the tentacles that pined his arms and legs to the floor, the creature moved what appeared to be two small flippers all over his exposed torso in a way that was deep and kneading, passing over every square centimeter of his upper body. Popeye couldn't see, but felt as the flipper changed into the tiny, perfectly soft hand of what was now so obviously a female warrior of a kind he'd never seen before. The pants that his mother made for him four years ago, that hadn 't even been phased by this truly extreme life-style of his, were shredded like his shirt and discarded, leaving him completely naked underneath this slick, black spider/girl who 's intentions at the moment were dubious at best.
She raised her body above him on her tentacles, and a small patch of the black material disappeared at the crotch of the creature revealing the most perfectly smooth human cunt this incapacitated man had ever seen in his now very interesting life! Slowly the creature maneuvered herself directly over his now throbbing cock and quickly engulfed his entire member in one long, gasping movement. Popeye thrust his pelvis upward with all his remaining strength and the tentacle around his neck tightened to the point where consciousness was but a vague gray cloud off in distance telling him that he could move his left arm. The punch landed squarely on the jaw of his rapist just as both parties shook with a blinding orgasm. The weird tentacle lady flew a good five meters in the air and landed with a crash in the middle of the strange living room detritus. Before Popeye had the opportunity to reflect on this being the best fuck of his entire life, every single nerve seemed to explode at the same time and he fell in a heap on the cold hard floor.
Monkey2.0 G-13-11-26/2004

Final Exams

Captain Halvarado sat in an approximation of parade rest and dutifully reviewed the troops. She was never a big fan of overseeing course finals, and fifteen years of these reviews hadn't brought her to any greater state of excitement about the whole production. The idea of using her veto to forbid a graduate their hard-earned place aboard Ship made her smile faintly. If she wanted to foment unrest and endanger her slippery place at the top of this particular hill, undercutting the graduate instructors would be a good start. The only thing she could do to start a coup more quickly would be to decide to have a child by body-birth.

X tried not to watch Halvarado but, under the stiff, small brimmed hat that held her Captain’s bars, that tiny evil smile held a scary message for someone in the room. Turning away as casually as possible, X replaced the woven-carbon flogger on the whip rack and strode purposefully across the examination arena to its coach's table. It was not allowed to discuss with its students the situations they were to be faced with or give them any ideas whatsoever in the course of the exam, but X had found over the last twelve years that its presence was sufficient to keep them focused. X sat, glanced over the groups of prospective graduates and well-wishers, and prepared to be judged in proxy.

The nervous-jocular talk of the audience faded with the lights and a bright light suddenly defined the arena. The Captain settled in mentally for a long afternoon and X, almost directly across from her, began a microstretch routine to keep from fidgeting. All of the possible scenarios were well known and the exams were certainly fair, but each student had their strong and weak points. X couldn't help but wish it could assign the tests instead of just starting the shuffle algo. It tapped the table to stop the right hand spin first and then the left, and the results appeared in the holofield above the arena. The first test was to be the no penetration tongue bath and Simon was to be the one tested. No problem, Simon was capable at this, if not inspired.

The Captain watched with slight interest as the young man stepped onto the platform. He quickly stated his name and requested a sandpapery hobbyhorse for the naked hermaphodite who walked out of the back. The arena obliged by lifting its center into the requested supporting shape. Simon lightly stepped in a circle around the herm, sliding his fingertips and nails across its shoulders and chest on the first circuit, and lower around its back and belly on the second. He used his best non-physical push to urge the herm toward the hobbyhorse and then requested, in a voice that felt like velvet rubbed against the nap, that it kneel. When the herm answered, “Yes,” Simon wafted a hand across its lips in a shushing motion.

Simon's next move was to step to the herm's right side and then reach over its head with his right hand to grasp its neck and slowly, firmly lower its torso to the hobbyhorse. X smiled at the toppy interpretation of what was usually a bottom 's game and marked the move on Simon's score sheet. Keeping that one hand on the back of the herm's neck, Simon leaned over and breathed into its hair, then made one long, slow line down its spine between its shoulderblades with his tongue. Simon's tongue disappeared back into his mouth for a second and then reappeared as a flicker across each of the herm's shoulders.

Simon moved his hand from the back of the herm's neck into the tidy hair at the back of its head and pulled its head back slightly. He moved to its rear and folded himself over it. Starting at its hairline and working his way down, Simon licked every centimeter of skin he could reach without letting go of its hair. When he reached its lower back, he laid a last long lick all the way up its spine. Releasing its hair, Simon stood and spoke. “Finished.”

A bit of muted applause met this statement, and Simon grinned. After he helped the herm to stand, Simon saluted and stepped out of the arena into the dimness of the seating area. X almost lazily glanced over the anonymous judges'scores, averaged them with its own score, and then posted the result in the holofield where Simon's shortname had been. It wondered whether he would choose enhanced genitalia or tool implants as the happy congratulations died slowly back down.

X restarted the shuffle algos and again stopped them with a touch. It blinked in an effort to hold back a salacious grin seeing that Willduth had drawn the anal fisting assignment. If there was anything less likely to get Willduth flunked, X couldn't think of it. Willduth had a real passion for the rhythms and contractions of the sphincters and rectum and her wide grin as she bounded into the arena showed how pleased she was by her luck.

She called merrily for a sling, which lowered from the ceiling quickly. Willduth stopped in grating realization at the same time that X cringed, seeing the bed-of-nails style sling that appeared. Red with shaken embarassment, Willduth accepted the lost points she was going to be forced to accept. Her voice barely quavered as she stated, “Remove sling. Bring soft leathery sling.”

X shook its head slightly and sighed, admiring the care and concern Willduth showed for her partner over even her final score. X also knew what Willduth didn't –that caring action received better scores than avoiding missteps at every cost.

Willduth, now focused and calm, greeted her partner with a gentle hello before leading him to the sling. “Please sir, sit here. I will arrange your limbs for your greatest comfort during the exploration of your inner truths.” She continued to speak softly for his benefit, allowing every motion she made to dance across his vision in a rhythm that helped her voice seduce and hypnotize him. “You will open to me,” she said while arranging his arms in the most relaxed, open position. “Become larger than your body,” as she lifted one leg at a time into the stirrups.

She hummed and murmured broken syllables of praise at the small, winking butthole she discovered once he was in position. She tapped a request for warm, thick lubricant on the arena floor, and it dilated to produce a small bucket. Willduth caressed her partner's thigh with firm touches with her left hand while she scooped up a large palmful of lube with her right. She brought her hand between his legs and slowly drew the back of her index finger down his butt crack. She flicked the very end into his first sphincter and back out before he could tighten down on it. She continued to hum and sigh in a way that demanded relaxation.

With the fingertips of her right hand, she lightly rubbed lube into a big ring of flesh all around his asshole. Using her left hand, she spread the lube all over both hands up to the wrist without stopping her lazy circles. Switching hands, Willduth started making circles with her left hand and reached down for more lube with her right. After getting a big glob in near her fingertips, she brought her right hand up and placed it like a tray directly against the bottom of the partner's anus. She spiraled in with her left hand until she was making little circles right on top of his sphincters. Then the dance began.

Willduth's fingers were beautiful in their smooth, sure motions as they found a bit of lube and then pushed it into the man's ass, following it in and rubbing it into his delicate anal tissues. Her fingers moved quickly, but never with an ounce of roughness, and his asshole eventually swallowed the entire load of lube. Willduth took that opportunity to test her partner's tension level. Taking the first three fingers of each hand, she formed a cone and gently pushed the cone into his ass. The tips of both middle fingers slid right in, and she fetched up lightly against the ends of the other fingers. A couple of gentle, pulsing pushes, and she opened him up enough to get all six fingertips in. Willduth crooned in delight and praised the man's beautiful ass as she glided her hands slowly in and out to that degree.

A faraway look came over Willduth's face at that point, and she smoothly reached down for more lube. She folded the first three fingers of her left hand together and slid them into his ass. Feeding lube into the space created between her fingers periodically, she started to work three fingers to the second knuckle pretty quickly, with her thumb sliding between them to add to the width in small degrees. She started to twist her hand as she pumped, and growled lightly at the man. She sang to him in hums and groans while she pumped lube and fingers into his asshole, more and more, until she was bouncing her last knuckles against his outer anal sphincter.

“Give it to me. You will be as big as the ship itself, big enough to fuck my whole body into your ass. You will let me in.” Willduth was lightly covered with sweat as she continued to piston her arm into his butthole. Finally, sensing that he was reaching the right level of relaxation, Willduth tucked her thumb in and pushed past her knuckles. After the widest point of her hand, his ass sucked her in and then convulsed in orgasm after orgasm as she made miniscule motions with her fingers.

After the strongest and most desperate orgasm, Willduth snuck her hand back out of his ass, keeping three fingers inside so that he didn't feel abandoned, and began to soothe him back down from his buttfucked high. After a clean and professional cooldown, Willduth stood and declared, “Finished.”

The Captain focused mightly on not squirming, though that exam had left her with a serious need to fuck. When her vision cleared and she stopped thinking about which sex worker to visit on the way back to her cabin, there was a woman against a St. Andrew's cross being very tidily flogged by a student with more tecnique than passion. Ah, well –they can't all be naturals.
X-November 27, 2004 - 09:27 PM

Monkey2.0 December 03, 2004 - 03:24 PM

Berbert Bukaki and Dr. Natharious

“Quite frankly Doctor, I was a bit alarmed to hear a report from the arresting officer telling me that one of your best operatives was caught in the act of sex with this, this prisoner?” Scuffing his shoes on the grated floor, the little round man said, “What is this awful stuff on the deck?” He continued, still trying to wipe the mysterious viscous fluid off his little shoes.
“Are you talking about Kisha? Berbert, don't be ridiculous. She's not just one of the best, she's absolutely the best surgical assassin in the entire history of the ship. If Kisha was fucking this poor ape, it was only because she was preparing to devour his tongue or somehow torture the beast with that incredible Techno-Body of hers. Kisha is the quintessential heartless assassin; she was built that way. The way I see it, the question your fools in the Pilot Corps should be asking is how this offish monster could possibly get a punch in on our best surgeon. Anyway, shut up and call that tray in from the corridor, will you.”
Berbert snaps his fingers in the direction of a young boy dressed in a slick black fibersuit standing perfectly still in the shadows by the massive bulkhead hatch.
“I'm sorry, Doctor, the hatch will only respond to your voice command. This prisoner is under the highest level quarantine, sir,” the young man said after snapping quickly to attention.
“Oh that, yes, of course. Security level 4 please release bulkhead hatch #6 and stand ready. Ordered: Dr. Einrick Natharius, Director, Surgical-Ops.”
The six-bolt pressure locking mechanism in the giant door cracked and gasped into the unlocked position.
“Now, Special Operative First Class Kerry, please call that medical floater-tray into the lab and stand with your neural-club at the ready in front of the hatch, thank you.”
“Yes, Doctor,” Kerry shot back and disappeared behind the huge orifice.
“Just look at him, Berbert,” Dr. Natharious continued. “The Neo-Proto Human. It's no wonder the Congress kept this one a secret for 13 generations. Once the Congressional Foundation finds out that we've been nothing more than a shuttle-bus for Monkey 2.0 here, maybe then they'll listen to your master, eh?”
“Let's hope you're right, Doctor. Our good Captain is indeed walking on congressional eggshells, so to speak. After that last fiasco in the outer realm of Monoceros you can rest assured that the majority of the Congress heard my General's criticisms of Captain Halvarado. As far as General Zamphier is concerned, it is good that you came over to our side when you did. It's now only a matter of time before the entire ship is with us. Maybe then we can replace this useless Captain and finally bring this mad journey to an end.”
“How right you are, Berbert. Now let's get to work, shall we. Security level 4, bring the prisoner to the shield and extend his left arm, palm up, through the shield.”

The platform that Popeye was attached to felt cold and hard as rock but moved fluidly when the tall skinny man spoke to the air. His arms and legs were stuck to this cool, hard material but Popeye could not see or feel how he was affixed, he just knew it felt as though his skin was tearing every time he tried to move his limbs on his own. The twisted, grunting dialect the two tiny slick pink men spoke was almost understandable. He knew he'd be able to get it down in no time but for now he couldn't quite make out more than the most rudimentary conjunctions or objects such as the beautiful shining, magical flying tray that was presently coming his way. Popeye's giant naked form loomed over Berbert and Dr. Natharious as the seemingly invisible platform extended his massive forearm through the liquid shield with his scarred and callused palm facing up.
“Good lord, look how big it's paw is!” said Berbert, taking a fearful step backwards, covering his mouth with a thickly bejeweled hand as the platform carrying the giant man silently came near.
“Security level 4, maximize the shield-bindings on the subject please,” said Dr. Natharious and continued, “I assure you, Berbert, this poor primate is quite helpless.
Medical, hand me an ascending 4 gauge, 10 centimeter bio-probe please.” Slowly from the beautiful floating tray rose a long perfectly reflective needle that was the size of Popeye 's thumb on the wide end and so exquisitely sharp on the opposite end that he couldn't even see the tip really.
“It's his sweat,” said the doctor.
“What are you talking about?” Berbert replied with a look of total disgust.
“The slime on the floor, it's the freaks sweat. Whenever it gets nervous it starts to sweat profusely and it seems to be sticking to everything. You see, Berbert, I believe this creature doesn't have the same biological attributes as human beings. For example, it may feel pain but not quite in the same way we do. I honestly believe it doesn't care. Let's find out, shall we?”
Dr. Natharious then gently grabbed the probe from the air, lifting it just above his head and with the swiftness and grace of a surgeon came down to Popeye's forearm.
“No way, mother fucker!” Popeye bellowed as he tore his right arm away from the magical bindings and punched through the watery surface of the shield to perfectly connect with the jaw of the doctor. Popeye snatched the needle from Natharious 'hand as the lean little man's head snapped back with loud crack. As his arching rag-doll form launched three meters in the air, Popeye tore his arm from platform, grabbed Berbert by the back of the head and slammed him down on the platform where his arm had been. With the same fluid motion, Popeye brought the needle down through Berberts left clavicle and bent it over his shoulder, pinning him to the platform before Natharious landed with a sliding flop against the bulkhead on the far side of the room. Popeye then pushed out from the platform with both hands at his waist and with a great ripping sound detached himself. He then turned to his left to meet a familiar blast of pure energy that knocked him back through the air against the far wall of the prison cell.
Out like a light, once again.
Monkey2.0 December 03, 2004 - 03:24 PM

whispered histories (as soon as we get permission we'll publish this chapter...)
WisconsonWilly-December 05, 2004 - 10:09 PM

December 20, 2004 - 06:44 AM
Venus' Escape

“I just can't bring myself to care what you think.”

Venus's lovely mouth twisted in disgust. “What kind of a savior are you? You're pretty insulting for someone who's helping me escape a lynch mob.”

The old man kept staring at her and shook his head. “Well, I can't let a purty girl like you just evaporate into thin air, can I?” he mumbled, unable to look away from her and unable to meet her eyes at the same time.

Venus slowly sank into a resting crouch and stared truculently at the old man's feet. She wearily wondered when the searchers were going to give up. She'd always manipulated people with impunity and had never in her life been in serious trouble. Even those men and women who wanted her too fiercely to resist their urge to take her by violence were contained in the end by her raging domination of the beginning of every fight. Her whole life had been one short fight after another. She exploded as soon as violence was suggested by even one shiver of an eyelid and ended things before the other person even knew the fight was on.

She tucked her head down onto her knees, but was stopped from becoming introspective by a shaking hand in her hair, pulling her head up. “If I'm going to die to have you with me, I want to be able to see you, by Aspen,” the old man rasped. He settled back on his heels and continued, “I want you to show me how you dance.” Venus looked up through her eyelashes as he licked his lips and twitched at the idea. She was too used to people being incapacitated by her beauty to give a shit about his crude manipulations. She was more worried that he might yell to bring the searchers down on her than about anything he might try to do to her.

She stood with exquisite care, keeping her weight centered in every moment. Keeping her attention focused directly on the old man, she shifted from foot to foot in a snake-like swaying. Now that she was aiming the full strength of her will and beauty at him, the old man seemed to shrink into himself, but he kept watching every move she made.

Venus'shocking beauty had been a tool and a hindrance for her since birth, and she wielded her tool with an ease and expertise that was too careless for making friends. Between a complete disregard for others' feelings and an incapacitating face and body, Venus had never had the opportunity to find out what loyalty and love meant outside her relationship with her brother, Popeye. Their affection in childhood turned into fascination in their early teens. Venus and Popeye were thrown together more and more as Venus' maturing sex appeal began first to cause trouble and then later to become a tool she created trouble with.

Since most of the town couldn't figure out whether she was a blessing from AspenGrove or a witch from beyond the Strongwood trees, they left her and her brother to themselves. When Venus was 14 years old, she discovered in herself a desire to make beauty in the world. If she was the most beautiful thing people had ever seen, shouldn't she be able to take bits of that beauty and transmute them into paintings and sculptures? Years of struggle ensued, and Venus found that she was a tough critic of her own work. As she worked, year after year, she accumulated one piece at a time that she found worthy of existence. At 28 years old, Venus had seven sculptures and two paintings. The rest she had burned or shredded. No one ever cared to look at her work.

Looking at the old man's sweaty forehead, Venus gave a flick to her hip at the end of the next swaying step. She stepped off the six beats of the traditional lantern dance and then flicked her other hip upward to pass the attention off to her hand. She started the intricately meaningful gestures of the dance, passing her hands gracefully in front of her grave face. She knew that her best chance of escape lay in distracting him until she could strike.

With an almost bored calm, Venus spoke with her hands and hips, moving closer and closer to him until it was time for the part of the dance representing the long nights of the recovering season. Within arm's reach, she stretched her hands and upper body to the right and watched from the corner of her eye as the old man's gaze followed her twisting fingertips. Right before she reached full extension, Venus brought her left leg up in a quick side kick to his temple that stunned him and then smashed her heel into his adam's apple.

Gritting her teeth, Venus came slowly upright and lowered her leg. He'd gotten out a brief cry of pain before she'd disabled his voicebox. She slipped around his unconscious body and out the door. Looking around, Venus saw that the little sunlight that was left would not make her too conspicuous if she could get to AspenGrove. This last episode had made her decision for her. Venus was less willing to fight her townspeople than she was to fight tradition. She was going to find the source of the sun in the grove of life.

********************************

Blithely humming a hymn to AspenGrove, the dirty figure touching each tree little resembled the gorgeous woman who'd walked into the forest. Venus was naked and muddy, having been overcome by the urge to climb into a puddle that promised her love and comforting. She periodically tipped her head to the side as though listening intently and then shook hard as waves of shudders racked her body. The hard little kernel of Venus in the flesh and blood of that body watched in interest as she was stripped to basic desires.

Having never been denied what she wanted, Venus was better equipped than most to give into and make her way through the intense emotional stripping that began soon after she entered AspenGrove. She was shameless and therefore more amused than abused by the suddenly uncontrollable nature of her body's needs. As she slowed once more at the sight of a likely masturbation toy, the bit of Venus that was aware of herself laughed a little. If this was what AspenGrove did to everyone, it was no wonder people had devised such a strong set of birth myths tied to it. And really –could she be any safer? How could anyone stick to violent intentions (or any intentions, really) with such lovely physicality all around them?

A strangely pungent sap covered a small ridged rock under a broken branch, and Venus picked it up to smell it closer. It was slightly smaller than her palm, and the sap was smooth and seemed to flow in slow motion. She lapped at it with her tongue, wrapping that flexible organ around it again and again before it started to thin and become more fluid. The smell was clearer then, and Venus huffed the musk of female orgasm until she became unbearably aroused. The ridges of the rock rasped gently across her nipples, and the sap smoothed the path from one nipple to the other and back again. She rubbed the rock under the curve of her breasts before slipping it up her neck and back to her mouth.

Her tongue started to work the rock's wrinkles like labia, and the hand not holding the rock slipped to cup her pussy and place the tip of her middle finger just inside. The smell of hot sex and the feel of the cool rock filled her mouth and nose until she orgasmed gently around that finger. She then lowered the well-lubricated rock, and slid the soft sap between her pussy lips. The musk became suddenly stronger as the sap smell mixed with her own cunt juice and Venus dropped to her knees in a rush of lust. She leaned back on her heels and stroked her clit with the ridges of the rock, overwhelming herself with a kind of direct stimulation that she couldn't usually take until she was in the middle of an orgasm. She used her free hand to bring the juice of the sap mixed with her pussy lube up to her mouth and sucked it off her fingers.

She used more of the free-flowing lubricant to cover her tits with hot slickness and then tried to pinch her slippery nipples. She grasped her whole areolae and twisted her nipple until it was too hard to bear and then she moved to the other one. Her sensitized nipples demanded attention and she tipped her body up against the nearest tree. The crisp bark of the tree crumbled beneath the pressure as Venus rubbed her upper body on the cool surface. The scratchy broken bits of bark stuck to her torso as she wrapped her arm around the tree and started to pump her hips against the thoroughly warmed up rock. As her hips made circles and she bounced up and down on her heels while grinding the rock into her clit, Venus was galvanized by the first twitch of an orgasm. She arched her back and reached desperately behind her with her other hand. As the orgasm started to take over her body, Venus thrust her middle and ring finger in her cunt from the back and then slipped her thumb into her soft asshole. The friction and fullness from her fingers tossed her up another level, and Venus spasmed violently against herself. Her breasts pointed straight up as she bent farther and farther backward to get more of her fingers inside until she screamed and screamed her release.

The distant part of Venus was entranced by the abandon her body was showing. She reached into the power of that orgasm as though into a bowl of water, drinking the power until she absorbed it and felt stronger than she'd ever been in her life. Suddenly a veil lifted and Venus burned with knowledge. She flew into pieces in a melded awareness that included not only her and AspenGrove, but also some being of great calculation called Ship and another of great strength called Captain. All their being and experience entered her and she could feel them absorb hers at the same time. She started to lose the place where she began and ended, and this feeling shocked her into dropping the veil, masking those beings with whom she'd just shared her entire self.

Venus fell to her side, wracked with shaking, and sobbed. Her mind and body were one again, and she felt constrained by her single self. She mourned the loss of the others with wails of pain and fear. Slowly, Venus calmed and felt the veil, prodding at it with her mind. Determination filled her, and Venus stumbled to her feet to find her others.
X- December 20, 2004 - 06:44 AM

Aspen Grove: I/O

Silly monkey, you are barley aware of your own existence …
Even though your “Prophets” have foretold your weaknesses time and time again you perpetuate your own destruction generation after generation.

…I've seen your beauty. I love you.

Silly monkey, can't you see?

M2.0-December 21, 2004 - 09:38 PM

In the Red Room with Berbert Bukaki

Lick it, oh yes, llllllllllick it! Now let me see your face.
(Slap!)
Now get down there and lick it you fucking animal, all of it, that's right every last drop. Mmmmmm, Berbert Bukaki you are an exquisite sycophant.
(Slap, thunk …)
Don't look at me you imbecile! If you ever look at me again without me telling you to I will eat the fingers off your good hand, speak.
I'm sorry my General but …
(Ching-schling!)
Shut Up! When I tell you to speak you will you tell me something I do not know. You will tell me something, something about this Proto-Neo-Human of the good Doctors'. Doctor Natharious is greatly impressed with this thing and I just love this new piercing of yours,
(Ching!)
Ahhhhhhhhhhh!
Shut up! I'm going to leave this pretty little chain attached to your new shoulder piercing until you give me your soul you little freak now speak!
(Cha-Ching,ching!)
Ahhhh, It's the largest man/thing I've ever seen my General!
(Slap, slap, ching!)
How big?
Uh, almost two meters.
(Ching …)
Ahhhh, I mean 1.8 meters my General, please!
(Thunk, kunk, ching …)
Please, what?
(Ching.)
Ow, oh I mean just one of it's upper limbs is 60 centimeters in diameter!
(Sling, ching …)
You're lying you disgusting little tuft hunter.
(Sching!)
Noooooo my general!
Hummm, prepare my lab and bring the beast to me at 0700. That will be all.

MII.0 January 13, 2005 - 12:51 PM

The Bridge.

“All rise, Captain on deck!” Shackley announced as the eight command section spots shifted direction to suddenly illuminate the main entrance to the central Command Bridge of the great ship Wunderjahr. The massive aperture door to the “Great Hall” shifted silently to reveal the cool tall figure of Captain Halverado dressed in the uniform that has made her visage the very image of human strength in the universe for the crew of this ship.
Long flowing, black cape pulled tight at her hips, around a formfitting slick, black fibersuit with just the long single gold bar over her right breast signifying command over all these people. At the very top of this perfectly presented uniform sits Captain Halvarados tell-tell tight brim hat pulled smartly to her pericing Grey eyes.
“WUNDERJAHR!” Shout the 400 unified operations commanders.
“Resume Op's” Halverado commands with a quick nod of her head and the click of her heels.
“H'ahy!” The crew replies with an uproarious bark and the lighting returns to normal.

Directly in front of Halvarado was the smooth path leading to the Central Command Station (C.C.S.), a formfitting recliner-console that serves as a bio-electric link between the captain and all the critical operations of the ship. Standard protocol dictates that the captain must, upon taking command of the ship, personally inspect the eight, high level command posts via the C.C.S. but this time the three solemn figures standing in Captain Halvarados path foretold that day, would be different some how.
Halvarado snapped her gaze to the center figure her X-O, Commander
AR. Shackley Ericson.
“Well Shack, this is highly unusual.” She says scanning his face for any sign of stress, she then nods Left, “X” then Right, “Kisha” , what's going on?
“My deepest apologies Captain,” Shackley says cracking to attention in front of the captain,” but we are under a Level One Priority Contamination Alert so we all thought it best to get up to speed before you took command of the ship.”
“I linked to Kishas report on the initial contact just before my watch, has there been any changes sense then?”
“Yes captain.”
“Very well.” Says the captain. Halvarado then makes two short half moon shapes in the air with her left hand, the rolling gurgle of a sub-lingual command then says, “You may speak freely, by the way Kisha; that scene between you and our new guest was fucking hot although I do hope you're not too hurt.”
“Wow,” Kisha whispered without the slightest hint of expression on her face.

From outside the circle of three people around the captain the four seemed to disappear behind the white-noise shield summoned by the captains hand signals and sub-lingual commands.

“The subject was taken to Surgical-Op's by arresting officer Gunny Die, where he was placed on a fully operational surgical table and examined by Chief Surgeon, Natharious. Dr. Natharious used the highest level bonding field on the subject but something in the subjects viscous body excretions blocked the bonding field and the subject was able to get a punch in on the good doctor before breaking free of the field completely. Not only that but our “guest” as you called him, broke almost every bone in the doctors face. Oh yeah, I almost forgot; Berbert Bukaki, a high level Pilot-Corps investigator, was assisting Dr. Natharious. The subject managed to pin the investigator to the surgical table with the use of one of Dr. Natharious'Bio-Probe-Needles. You should've seen the poor guy when Kisha showed up, pathetic.” Shackley then finished by adding, “The subject was then subdued by means of a Neural-Club by S/O First Class, John Kerry.”
“Is that Farley Kerrys boy?”
“Yes captain.”
“What was the distance on his shot?”
“10 Meters, captain.” Say's Shackley, with a slight grin he adds, “from behind a bulkhead no less!”
“Ha, I'm going to tell that son-of-a-bitch myself that that boy of his turned out alright!” Says Halvarado slapping Shackley on the left shoulder heading towards the C.C.S console. Let's check this out shall we.”
“I'm sorry captain but we have no visceral footage of the incident.” Said X finally then added, “Dr. Natharious believes the subject has sweat glands that produces a fluid that somehow repels B.B-Synthetic, or at the very least makes our shield technology unstable.”
“Unstable, how?” Kisha asks.
“Unstable, as in weakened beyond effective application.” Shackley stoically replies.
Kisha then adds, “I knew it had to be something chemical to be able to snap the bonds on a fibersuit, noone is that strong, or at least noone I've ever seen.”
“How does the subject respond to more physical restraints, like metals?” The captain asks.
“It's been unconscious sense it's violent outbreak with the doctor, but it's very big and unbelievably strong so we've turned the whole project over to the Pilot Corps under the command of General Zamphier.” Said X. “But to answer your question, so far, so good. We have it's arms and hands tied together with a steel/aluminum aloy.
“He!” Said Kisha.
“He, what?” asked Halvarado.
“The subject, is male,” Said Kisha then added, “by the way he fights I'd say highly evolved. His scent was like nothing I've ever experienced before.”
“What does that mean? X asked, genuinely interested.
“I mean, he smelled like, like Earth!” Replied Kisha, her pearl black eyes staring intently at the floor.
“I would love to discus the smells of inter-species fuck-buddies all day with you people but I have a ship to run so if you'll please excuse me I'll get to doing that.” The captain said pushing past Kisha and X seating herself sideways on the C.C.S. console. Chuckling, the captain then added. “Kisha, you're now an investigator in General Zamphiers'Zero-company go down there and keep an eye on the interrogation of the subject, make sure they don't kill the poor guy.”
“H'ahy my captain!” Kisha replies, turns and silently leaves the bridge.
“X, there's a farmer on the Starboard Pill-Tower by the name of No'a Sark. I want you to go down there and talk to him about our subjects BO problem. He's the best Bio-Chemist we've got on the ship right now so I 'm pretty sure he'll be able to help sort out our Pill-Dwellers sweat issues.
“H'ahy my captain.” X said and was gone.
“Shack, there's a V.I. named Sonny Musicbox in the aft plains that has been doing some very interesting investigative work. He submitted a report last night from the “Argos Gene-Pool Archives” that could help make sense of our present Contamination issues. We can't have our guest running amuck and making all of our slick technology look weak, now can we?
“H'ahy my captain!” Shackley says, then adds,” Captain?”
“Yeah.”
“Are we there yet?”
Captain Halvarado smiles back at Shackley and gives her old friend her familiar response. “Shut up and eat your sugar!” She says and for a split second they both understand that this will be the very last time they see each other. The bulkhead aperture silently slides into place. A single thought becomes clear in Shackley's mind as the concussion from the blast knocks him through the air, tumbling backwards the entire length of the entrance tube leading to the once great control center of the G.S. Wunderjahr.
…Aspen Grove.

…In which two Cadets meet a coat named Lowkey, revelations do ensue in three parts.

One.

“Rock!”

“Hal, god-damnit, Slow down!”

“Shut up and keep up Shack, we have to get to the plateau by dark!” And with that Halvarado’s tiny form accelerated up the sheer cliff just out of site from the little shelf that Shackley was perched upon.

“Don’t be stupid, you have to be sharp up there and you’re only burning yourself out!” Shackley yelled, he then took one last sip of water before resuming his climb.

“What?” came her distant reply.

In the Aft Planes, situated in the stern section of the G.S. Wunderjahr, there lies a series of giant foundation bolts that hold firm the massive support cables that in turn support the immense towers that hold the spinning “Pill”, a tube 40Km high and 60Km wide. Not only is the Pill the time honored “Bio-Package from Earth” it is the very definition of time itself. One complete rotation of the pill was a day in the life of the Generation Ship Wunderjahr. Beautifully situated around two of the aforementioned bolts is Foundation Valley one of the most popular recreation sites in the entire ship and also the most grueling training facilities for the elite “Blue Squadron” of the young Command Officers Corps. For the senior cadets the Foundation Valley Bolt-Head Plateaus are infamous.
The off season 6 hour Hydrogen Orb illuminating the aft planes waned it’s last 15 minutes of flickering yellow light as Shackley reached the plateau of the bolt. Small scrub brush and bright red dirt covered the entire 1.5 kilometer surface of Bolt Head One, Starboard Aft.
“Thanks for setting up camp,” he said between gasping breaths.
“Not a problem, Shack. You know I grew up not more than two kilometers from here in a little town called Isaacston. I’ve scaled this bolt maybe 30 or 40 times and I’m not even exaggerating. I told you at the trailhead, the trick is you have to remember that its just a great big bolt you have to stay in the middle of the threads and pace yourself. ”
“I know You told me but it didn’t mean shit to me until now,” Shackley wheezed and flopped back with a puff of red dirt.
When he came to Hal was standing over him smiling, holding a steaming hot cup of thick, black Ethos. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen by firelight. Her hair was a thick mass of blackness with hints of quivering orange shadows dancing across her face. Her smile was broad and as soft as a condescending pat-on-the-back.

“Is that one of your fire-sticks? Damn, I hate passing out completely it gives me a headache.”

“Yeah but don’t sweat the stick I brought enough for the whole night. I hate sleeping too it gives me the creeps.

“ Hey fuck you, I wasn’t asleep, I was passed out! There’s a big difference.” Shack said holding his head.

“You know, Hal said, changing the subject, “about a billion years ago back on Earth, a group of monkeys fresh out of the trees saw a bunch of four legged animals called “Coats” eating some red berries off of this bush and dancing like freaks afterwards. The monkeys, not to be out done by a good freak-out but not so uncivilized as to just eat them off the bush like some disgusting Coat, roasted the seeds on the insides of the berries and brewed up some of what we now call Ethos,” she said as she handed him the cup.
Shack held the cup with both hands close to his mouth, blew into the steaming brew, and said, “Oh yeah, then why did they call it Ethos which is an ancient Greek word meaning, ‘distinguishing character’?”

“Cuz that’s where the berry bushes were, on the Ethos plain in the country of Afreak only about hundred clicks south of Greek.” That smile again.

“That’s Greece you dork, you are so full of detritus, where do you get this shit?” and they both exploded with laughter that echoed over the perfectly silent Foundation valley.
After they calmed a bit, Shackley downed the lukewarm liquid and became acutely aware of the perfect silence around them. He whispered, “It’s very unlike C.O.C. Control to just up and send us out on Snap Patrol. They haven’t done that since our first rotation. What do you think is up with all this?”

“You don’t have to whisper Shack, I’ve got a 12 point Periphery set up with the monitor jacked in to my panel. We’d know if there were anyone within a click of us. This is not a ‘Snap Patrol’ Shack, Control told me about this mission more then a dec’ ago but the only thing they told me was that it was top secret and that I’d find the connection here on this Bolthead.” She said as she stood up, looked around and propped her hands on her hips.

“Whoa, who gave you those orders?” Shackley quickly asked much closer now to his intense, hyper-stoic norm.

“Chief Krauss, why?” She replied and looked down just as Shackley jumped up and scurried over to the lean-to shelter that Hal had built earlier that evening. As Shack rifled through his back pack Hal did a systems check on all of they’re periphery sensors from her personal panel located in the upper left hand quadrant of her direct vision.

“Here!” Shack exclaimed and held up a tiny pill shaped container made of B.B.Synthetic.

“What’s this?” Hal asked and took the container from Shackleys outstretched hand.

“The day we were assigned to each other, three Decs ago, Chief Krauss called me into his office and handed me this container. He told me to keep it with me at all times and when the time came I would be able to make the connection. He also said it probably wouldn’t be until the very end of school, then all-the-sudden it was like he was mad at me or something, he stood up real quick and yelled, ‘Cadet, get out of my sight!’ “

“Then what?” Hal asked

“Then nothing, when that son-of-a-bitch tells you to get out of his sight you disappear!”

“Shack, I know that, what I meant was, why do you think now is the right time? Is this thing supposed to be our connection on the Bolt-Head Plateau…” Halvarados voice then tapered off as the tiny pill gently and silently left her hand and began to unfold in mid air into a hovering, rapidly changing geometric shape shifter of a kind neither of them had ever before encountered. The tiny floating glossy black capsule began to change by quickly transforming from one geometric character to the next becoming more and more complex as it grew. Hal reacted quickly with a leap straight up with a slight twist to the left that produced two perfectly drawn hand disrupters from her Tibial-clasps and pointed the tiny weapons directly at the shape shifter.

“I got the shot!” Shackley shouts from his crouch behind one of the near by bushes, he’s holding the full size neural-cannon that was holstered across his back, the powerful weapons sites trained on the shape shifter. The shape shifter then increased in size to about the size of Hals head.

“Take it!” Halvarado barked and flipped backward two complete rotations but got off four rounds, two from each fisted disrupter. The concussion from Shackleys cannon blew Halvarado off balance just slightly as she made for cover behind a shrub of her own.
“Shack!”

“Yeah?!”

“Can you see it?”

“Yeah!” Shackley said as Hal rechecked her panel monitor. The shape shifter appeared to only have moved slightly just enough to dodge the cannon blast, it was emitting two tiny tracking lasers one on the young Halvarado the other on Shackley.

“Blue Cadets, stand down.” Came an unfamiliar voice from the direction of the shape shifter the voice was so incredibly smooth and as soft and warm as chocolate.
Slowly with both of her weapons held up before her Hal rose from the false shelter of the bush, Shackley followed suit with his shouldered cannon at the ready.

“Cadets, what was it about my last order that you didn’t understand?” Came that voice again, deep and profound sounding, emanating from the strangest looking creature that Halvarado or Shackley had ever seen. It was huge just over two meters high with a head full of thick, bright red knotted locks with all sorts of twisted pieces of metals hanging from it clinking and clanging together like chimes. Its heavily ridged brow was also covered with a thick mane that almost looked as if it hindered it’s vision but it’s slick black eyes were also giant in size and keenly fixed on the slowly approaching Halvarado. Its mouth was the most disturbing thing about its head though, at first it appeared to be a giant tare as if the retched creature had been mauled and it was situated about a centimeter below a nose that could have easily been mistaken for the beak that incured that horrible wound. Behind the scar-like grimace were two rows of massive gleaming white teeth each of which were about the size of Halvarados thumbs.
As far as Shackley could tell the creature was nude with its upper torso lightly covered here and there with long dark red hair. Its muscle structure was perfectly defined in human terms with beautifully chiseled lines in the pectoral and abdominal regions and its two powerful arms were so rippled with muscle tissue that the veins seemed to want to burst forth from the giants rich brown skin. Below its waist was a puzzle that truly confounded the two young cadets they quickly looked at each other and back at the beast. Its legs were like those seen on some of the animals in the old holo’s of Earth, Thick at the top but covered with the same bright red hair as above the waist but covering much more of the skin and the hair was shorter and tightly matted. The knees were facing backwards with incredibly skinny shins with rope like muscles tightly woven under the fur. Its two feet were like some bony two-pronged fork that stuck firm to the red dirt. Between the beasts thighs was the largest flaccid pudenda that these two young people had ever seen.

“Forgive me for not recognizing your authority, um, sir?” Halvarado said keeping both weapons aimed firmly at the creatures’ torso, eyes locked on its beak(?), “but I’ve never seen you before.” As the words came out of her mouth Hal knew it wasn’t true and could vaguely remember seeing this creature before like in a dream or a distant memory from childhood but the memory seemed to have just appeared, just then.
The giant then smiled even wider revealing two big heavily bejeweled pointy ears through it’s dreaded main a sight much too weird for Hal or Shackley to comprehend fully at first, it simply looked too painful.

“Pants on fire, don’t lie Hal, you know very well that you and I are old friends!” The creature said pointing a long finger in her direction. “Now obey your orders you little shits or you won’t get any candy before betty-by!” The voice of the creature gently echoed through Foundation Valley with a powerful resonance that seemed to caress the Aft Plains for a few deep, long echoes but Hal and Shackley stood firm.
“Very well then, you’ll have to take me prisoner.” The creature said as it lifted its massive arms up and clasped its long ornately tattooed fingers behind its head. Still looking at Halvarado it said, “You better search me baby.”

“Who are you!”

“What are you!” The cadets both shouted in quick succession, left then right then a long painful moment of silence as the creature looked up and to the left as it seemed to contemplate the questions.
“Who am I, I like that question better so I’ll answer that one first.” The giant mouth then formed in to a thick lipped frown that looked like a big dead fish and then those huge piercing black eyes seemed to rip right through Halvarado.

Stroking its long red goatee and tugging on the matted drool encrusted hair just a little too hard the creature then smiled and with that beautiful thick voice he said, “I am what you want me to be, I am the man of your dreams, I’m the most uncivilized of “Coats”, I’m your jack off theme, I am the one imaginary visage that the two of you have in common, I am one of the three authors of your story, I am Pan, I am the one itch that you will never scratch, I’m the dog-emperor of the dunes, I am your future, I’m the Devil, I am that lion in your pocket and baby I’m ready to roar, I’m your past, I am your guide for this evening so please put down those ridiculous guns and let us get busy and have’s some fun…
…’s!”
What am I, you ask?” The giant then directed his powerful gaze towards Shackley and with the deepest register in his voice he said, “I am pure technology and by the end of this night you might be able to begin to understand your role in this great adventure. The creature then took a deep inhaling breath through his nose, the huge nostrils flaring and painfully stretching his face. Not taking his gaze off Shackley he asked. “Am I everything you expected me to be Shack?”

“What I think he means is,” Hal quickly interjected “What do we call you?”

The giants head then quickly shot back towards Halvarado but much closer this time, so close in fact that she could feel his pungency puff her hair back slightly. She recoiled her head and quickly realized that what she had been smelling and feeling was the pure essence of sexuality in its raw undiluted dankiest form and it was pouring off of this creature in a vapor trail that distorted her vision for a moment then it made her chuff like a gorilla and flex every muscle in her back. Her eyes all this time were unquaveringly nailed to the beats’ black orbs.

“You may call me Low-Key, cuz that’s how I’m feel’n baby. A loud snap emanated from the giants left hand. I’m feel’n Low cuz I can’t see those perfect little tits of yours through that silly garment that is so tragically attached to your skin. Snap! And I’m a feel’n Key to your very survival but my first question for you on this beautiful evening is; after all these Decs of being so Dog-damn serious are you ready to let go and allow yourself to have even one night of genuine, rip-roaring, back slapping R&R cuz believe it or not that’s mostly what I’m all about. Well, some dreadfully serious stuff to but mostly fun I promise.”

“Yes.” Shackley said not taking his sights down but not talking about Lowkeys name either.

“Look,” Lowkey said, turning towards Shackley again smiling slightly, “We’ve got only one night together and a-hell-of-a lot of ground to cover, fight or fuck, what’s it going to be? It matters not to me.”

The two young cadets again made eye contact then synchronously lowered they’re weapons. “What is the point of this lesson?” Halvarado then asked.

“Monkeys with thumbs, I tell you!” Lowkey proclaimed to the dome above, looking down he then propped his hands in the fur of his waist like a mother scolding a child. “Look, none of us are living any illusions here, ok. You both are very much aware of the fact that you both have shattered every record ever set by any of the last 13 generations of COC cadets and sometimes within moments of each other but milidecs ahead of the rest of the pack or any previous captains before you. Your physical achievements are paled only by your tactical mastery and your abilities to make quick and concise multi-leveled decisions under extreme conditions as a matter of fact the most extreme conditions that any of your pathetic instructors have been able to come up with. You both are the very best of the best and now it’s time for you both to decide who will be the Captain of the last generation of Wunderjahr. But first, let’s have some fun ‘eh?

“Hold it right there pal you can’t drop something like that Captain shit on us and then expect us to skip off with you to play some, some game!” Hal commands and takes a relaxed stance for hand to hand combat.

Lowkey recoils, puts his long fingernails to his teeth and shivers as if appalled by the very thought he then points to his chest with all of his fingers and says, “Parish the thought!”

“What I have to know is, how are you, I mean how are we seeing you?”

“Oh Shack, why do have to be such a party-pooper?” Lowkeys whining reply was like powdered finger nails on a slick, slate wall. “But if you really have to know just know this going into it that the things I’m going to tell you will reveal themselves as truth as I reveal them to you, Ok?”

“What the hell does that mean?” Barked Shackley throwing his hands up in resignation.

“Ok, just say ok Shack.” Hal whispered.

“Ok, I guess it’s ok to be hypnotized by my hallucinations, whatever.” Shackley said tilting his head to the left and blinking three times with obvious inquisition towards Hal.

Lowkey began with a deep thought provoking breath then said, “Don’t be insulted but I’m going to start this little history lesson off with two very obvious questions, the first question is: Throughout history who has had the single most profound impact on the human condition?” The final –n- sound in the word “condition” seemed to cling to the crisp silence that followed then a simultaneous reply was uttered by both of the naive young cadets, uttered in a way they both didn’t know at the time would be the last time with the same wonder and reverence that they bespoke at that moment.

“Ryan the 1st!” Hal and Shack said together, smiling looking at each other. Lowkey chuckled with a low rumble and shook his down, left then right.

“Second queston,” The two cadets were now standing next to each other directly in front of Lowkey they’re weapons safely in their stowage.

“Ok?” Hal said looking into Shacks stoic face as he stared at this massive creature with no fear but absolute amazement and the monster almost seemed to radiate something that reflected off of the young mans face, an image that Hal would remember for the entirety of her incredibly long life.

“Why?” Lowkey asked and stirred up the dust with a clip-clop sound from his feet.

“Well,” Shack began as if he were giving a lecture to a class of freshmen girls. “Ryan the 1st was Captain Ryan Conklyn ‘The Inventor’. He was the ninth generation inventor of B.B.Synthetic, his team of geneticists completed the map of the human genome and under his command we discovered over 400 worlds because of his invention of the Herbert-Drive the G.S. Wunderjahrs space folding engine array. That’s just to name a few of the great things that Ryan the 1st achieved in his all too short command of 56 decacycles. He was eaten alive by a giant mud snake on Tractow 5 at the age of 85. It is conjectured that Ryan the 1st could have lived well over 500 dec’s if he wouldn’t have been such a great adventurer. But what does Ryan the 1st have to do with my question which was: how can we see you? I know the physical aspects of that B.B.Synth pill that you so elaborately came out of haven’t changed by the readings we’re getting from our censor array. You’re not a projection or we’d be able to get a reading on a projection device of any kind known to humans! What the fuck are you?

Lowkeys voice slowed way down to a drawl and he said “A.R. Shackley Ericson you are a very serious young stick in the mud and you’re starting to piss me off! We’ll get there, but you got to slow down brushfire!” Lowkey at this point was wearing a perfect Cowboy outfit and surrounded by a small herd of four black and white Holstein cows whos historical value was completely lost on the ignorance of the two young cadets.

“Mooooooo.” One of the cows said then Lowkey threw a lasso around her neck and she disappeared.

You can’t expect me to show you all my cards right out of the gate partner? Sir, I am a Troubadour,” Lowkey then returned to his normal, weird look. “I am a teller of stories, a wordsmith, a grand Parnassian manipulator of lettered images. Sir, you must have patients.

“Ok, sorry please continue.” Shack said sitting himself down in the soft red dirt where the cows had been along with the other two, the three of them made a triangle with the tiny fire stick glowing away on the dusty bolt-head surface.

“First some simple, very un-known facts about your beloved Ryan the 1st.” Lowkey said as he situated himself in a crouch that looked to Shack to be incredibly painful. “The human genome was mapped long before this ship left Earth Conklyn just brought genetics back into fashion is all. Also, Ryan was completely unmotivated by anything but his own bliss, which personally I don’t see as a character flaw. He had an incredibly small penis and when he wasn’t failing at trying to find a permanent home for the G.S. Wunderjahr he was prone to fits of deep, profound depression. About that ”conjecture” you mentioned it is a biological fact that Ryan could have lived for as long as he wanted to live and it’s quite possible that Ryan did.” The two cadets then gasped at the thought of the great Ryan the 1st committing suicide by taking on a foe that he knew he could not beat and as the thought appeared in both of they’re minds the entire scene played out before Shackley and Halvarados eyes. Ryan, looking as young and beautiful as the day he turned 40 knowing deep down inside that his greatest achievements where either blatant plagiarism’s or lost to his youth. He’s standing there with his perfect sneer/smile, his uniform torn away from his muscled torso holding two claw-made Tractowian swards knowing that in the next moment this image of him will live forever. He was then crunched by the five thousand rock like teeth of the giant mud snake.

“… so you see, he must have known!” Lowkeys voice returned as if being faded in from a vividly, well produced holomentary smooth and relaxing but real.

In the red dust Hal and Shackley lay side by side quivering from seeing such a terrible reality played out so vividly inside they’re heads. It wasn’t like they were really there they were really there. Every single detail of every part of that infamously gruesome scene was now permanently imprinted in they’re memories but somehow they had both survived being devoured by the horrible mud snake. What didn’t survive was the ignorance the two cadets had had about a man who was nothing more then that, a mortal man in a time of his own making. And in that last flash before the giant snake took his life, Ryan and Halvarado and Shackley all got to see every single lie every single stolen idea and every single misconception that Ryan Conklyns’ historians would purposefully leave out of the real story of Ryan the 1st.

“Why do they do that?” Hal finally manages to say a few thoughtful moments later. At that point she was sitting in the dirt holding her knees starring into the fire, the fire? The fire was a column of bright orange flame that blocked the view of her dearest friend Shackley Ericson. She could tell that Shack was talking but she couldn’t quite make out what he was saying it sounded as though he was speaking through water.

“Who are they and what do they do?” Lowkeys beautiful voice filled her entire body and she felt consumed by the sound, it seemed to make each limb feel as heavy and awkward as the day she was born.

“The liars, the people that decide what to tell us and what not to tell us, the gate keepers that’s who!” Hal tried to make the words sound as passionate as she could but they just came out sounding to her as pathetic and helpless as she herself had felt when the giant snake took Ryans life. Before she knew his reasons all she could do was watch as her only hero died a stupid and painful death. But before Ryans heart had stopped beating in his torn and mangled chest Hal knew that his reasons were justified but she also knew that his lies are what will remain of this bitter memory.

MII.0 4/24/2005

Big Black Bouncing Ball

“Mr. Kerry?” Came the tiny distorted voice of Doctor Einrick Nathathaious in Johnny's inner-ear.
“I'm sending down a Mr. Plick and a Mr. Die to help you move the prisoner to General Zamphier's personal research facility at port-side, forward mid-ships number 615. The General will be expecting you at 0700.”
“Yes doctor” Kerry said and the doctors presents was out of his head. Then Johnny whispered, “Personal research facility, whoa.”

“Gentlemen, form a triad,” Kerry ordered as the two other glossy black multi-limbed figures entered the large steal room number 23 of Security Deck 68 foreword.
The three silent assassins formed a perfect triangle with the elaborate cold steel chair holding Popeye Kahn in the center. The chair was made of that very same perfectly reflective metal that Popeye had seen the last time he saw this dangerous little man in front of him. When he tried to speak he couldn't move his mouth without the skin on his face being horribly cut by a kind of mask made from a mesh of what felt like the same cold steal. He chose a silent smile directed at the center of the triangle, at Johnny Kerry. The mask covered his entire face with the exception of his eyes and was attached to the chair from the back of his head.
“Please note that the subject is conscious.” Kerry said as four more slick black tentacles formed a floating array behind him, the two other cautious sergical assasins followed suit. Popeye could see all twelve floating snakes that attached themselves to these little men and he knew he had a fighting chance if they would just let him out of this fucking chair. Both of his elbows were locked together in the same position on both sides of the chair along with his wrist, knees and ankles. There was a different half circle ring lock for each of the phalanx on both of his hands. His shins, thighs forearms and biceps were locked in place in the same way. All he could move to do was breath and watch as the three tiny insect men wrapped they're tentacles around the parts of his body that weren't being held in place by the chair.
“Mr. Plick please remove the locking mechanism cover and activate the lock.” Kerry said and braced himself for the forthcoming struggle. All off the metal braces then instantly retracted back into the chair with a loud, resonating clang but Popeye had resigned to not moving a muscle until that cold mesh around his face was gone. Johnny then took what appeared to Popeye to be a tiny strait stick with a pin-prick of red light on the end of it and stuck it in the side of the chair by his head. The mesh disappeared and Popeye then turned to Johnny and said with a smile, “Are you ready?” Popeye then twisted his left arm in a way that scooped up all of Plicks tentacles in one move, grabbed the tentacles with his left hand and popped Plick like a whip across the room. At that instant and before Plicks body struck the far side of the giant room there was a deafeningly loud cracking sound and with it the entire room buckled then seemed to shatter starting with the torturous chair that was but a second ago a part of Popeye's body. As Popeye snapped poor Plick across the room Johnny and his other assistant, Gunny Die began to engulf Popeye in a giant web of thousands of B.B.Synthetic tenticals that completely took over all of them as soon as the sonic explosion ripped through the room. The three of them were then hurled through the ship in a massive flood of exploded ship remains and hundreds of shocked and dying crewmates aft for what seemed to be hundreds of rooms all being destroyed by the same huge sonic event.
As the sweat increased on Popeye's body the B.B.Synthetic bonds were being eaten away almost as fast as Gunny and Johnny could produce them from they're body suits. From the outside it looked like the three of them were a giant steaming ball crashing through the ship at the speed of sound.
Popeye, being just a little bit smarter then the other two inside of this, now very fast, steaming shiny black ball (maybe because of shier cranial size or maybe it was just the simple fact that by that time Popeye had lived most of his life in situations much like this) figured out that it was his sweat that was disrupting they're slick little material and so very carefully positioned himself in a way that would completely engulf the now closest of his two steaming ball mates; Gunny. Popeye managed to get Gunny's comparatively small body positioned in the cradle of his massive arms and then pulled Gunny as close to his body as possible. Gunny's entire suit started to come apart as soon as he made contact with Popeye's chest, leaving Surgical-Operative Gunny Die completely naked and steaming in seconds. By this time the ball had slowed down to a heavy bounce and Popeye's sweat had throughly eaten a cavern the size of a small cave on the inside of the ball. Johnny at that point was still producing whips of B.B Synthetic but couldn't move because his back was stuck to the sweat-molten cave inside the ball.
Popeye held Gunny by the throat and watched as the rest of his suit dripped out of his scared and beaten little body. Without his sergicly implanted suit Gunny only had one arm and it was a stump of mottled burn scar tissue on his right side and there were two giant blaster holes in his leg-less torso that were filled with the dripping remains of the quickly receding B.B.Synthetic liquid. Gunny tried to take a swing at Popeye one last time with his stump as he spit out what sounded like an “F” sound with a mouth full of oil black liquid, then he died staring into the deep black eyes of Popeye Kahn.

MII.0 January 13, 2005 - 12:59 PM

Leaving the Pill

Venus smiled with satisfaction, knowing that she was likely the only person to ever beat the AspenGrove. She climbed with a sense of lightness for quite some time before realizing that she actually was lighter. Gravity was releasing her. She slowed with awe at the idea that facing the integration with AspenGrove had released her from the laws of the world. This idea seemed wrong somehow, and Venus formulated a short prayer for help from AspenGrove. All she could get was a sense that there was another answer, lingering from the knowledge gained in her communion with the grove. She decided to move slowly and watch sharp for other changes in the general laws of the physical reality. Whether she was leaving gravity or not, she knew that she was in a whole new reality and needed to be very careful.

Venus finally reached an area where the underbrush became quite heavy - unusual for the AspenGrove. There was so much brush that she paced a hundred yards each direction, looking for a way through. She slowly realized that the brush was not just thick, it was tall as well. The idea prodded her that this was not right, and she decided to climb a tree to see how high the brush grew. Venus marvelled at her lightness as she shimmied up a willowy aspen tree, barely bending the thin, delicate branches.

Venus stopped abruptly, wrapped herself in the soft boughs of one branch, and peered around. She had realized that gravity was leaving her more and more quickly as she climbed, and that made her nervous. If she reached the top of the tree, would she fly?

There was still a solid wall of what looked to be underbrush, reaching as high as she could see in front of and above her. There was only one spot that seemed different from the rest, and she decided to explore that spot. Unwinding the aspen branch from her body, Venus reached out slowly, trying to get the hang of moving in such a low-gravity state. She realized that she could just barely reach the nearest bushes, and she drew herself lightly to the brush from the tree. Looking back, Venus watched the top of the aspen tree sway slowly from her motion. She looked out and realized that she could see across the top of the whole of AspenGrove.

Allowing her eye to follow the contours of the forest, Venus twitched. It never ended - it turned a full circle and ran upside down! Shocked and amazed, Venus carefully checked her thoughts for ideas on how this could be. She had an image from the Captain being, an image of a hollow cylinder, and realized with a jolt that she was inside that thing. She and her whole world were one small, protected part of a larger universe, with close neighbors she had never met.

Immediately, Venus felt released and comforted. She had always known that there had to be more to the world, but could never find anyone who wasn't similar to the people she already knew. This new knowledge burned her with its possibilities for finding sympathetic, interesting people she had never met. And she suddenly knew what the odd spot in the brush was. An exit.

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Crawling like a spider across the brush, Venus moved swiftly now and watched as the dark spot became recognizable as a hole. Venus checked her perceptions against her new knowledge as she felt a breeze begin to blow. It was coming from the hole, and she tucked her head down and started to climb more seriously. Still without gravity, Venus pulled herself along the small branches of the brush against a stronger and stronger wind until she was pushing her way into the funnel-shaped hole that lead a mysterious distance, narrowing as it went.

The wind tossed the hearty leaves of the bushes and Venus as well, and she desperately fought for handholds while moving continuously down the wind well. The air tasted funny, and she felt too short of breath for the amount of work she was doing.

Suddenly, a plainly marked trapdoor appeared to her right, and Venus tumbled toward it. She wrestled with the unfamiliar hatch that didn't appear to get much use, and then breathed deeply of the good air that flowed out to her once it was open. With a sense of inevitability, Venus tossed her legs over the edge and dropped.

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Gravity regained its mastery of Venus' body with a rush as she moved through the trapdoor. The vague impression of glass and soil reached her and had her twisting to roll off the glass if possible. A sickening crack fetched her up against the huge glass tube, and she rolled off the curved circle with a grunt and a soft cry. Landing on her hands and knees, Venus rose as quickly as she was able with a now battered body as the tube rocked and began to fall away from her. In a horrifying chain reaction, all the tubes in the room broke their connections, tore loose of the tubes tying them together, and began to crumble, one by one. In a creaking, moaning, fearful crouch, Venus stood in the midst of a sea of broken glass and rich, black loam.