Re: Flotsam

Hey, after a long hiatus Flotsam is back!

I did a complete top to bottom edit of the story. No major plot points have changed but there are now far fewer typos! You can read from the beginning here: https://indigocarminefiction.blogspot.c … index.html

You can read the newest chapter here: https://indigocarminefiction.blogspot.c … 6acaf394f5



Chapter 20: The New Groove

My prosthetic voice squeals while my pussymouth is muffled by the hot cylinder of Bluebell's teat. Bluebell pants and moos as I smash my face into her udder, tugging and sucking and fucking the long hot six inch shaft of her bovine nipple with my altered face, greedily drinking down the hot cream that splashes into my pussy. One of my hands tugs on another teat, a milky handjob that draws out spurts of milk that splash over our bodies, while my other hand is buried in Bluebell's bovine cunt, four fingers inside her while my thumb is pressed against the hot pulsing bulb of her clit. I gasp and shudder, tense and writhe, as my facial pussy orgasms, and I feel my original cunt spasm and splash my legs with juices. Bluebell reaches down and grabs me firmly by the back of the head with her long blue fingers, grinds my face into her udder with inhuman strength. I feel her body buck like a bull and her ropey tail flail as she throws her head back and "MOOOOOOO!!!!" Her cunt clamps down hard on my fingers as she orgasms...


I'm climbing down the stairs from the bedroom, still too aware of just how much my body bounces with every step. I feel my cheeks flush and pussy lips tingle, the feeling not at all unpleasant. I reach up and touch my hair, still wet from the shower, and remind myself that now is not the time for sexy games. Today I have a schedule to keep. Stay focused Halley!

As I reach the bottom of the stairs I peek at Bluebell sitting at her kitchen table, doing some admin while the milking machine chugs away, harvesting the morning milk from her four tits and udder. I smile at her with my eyes and think about fucking her the night before. About my face pussy impaled on her teats while milk exploded in my mouth in a hot creamy rush. About the ecstatic way she moos when she comes. I blush and feel the pussy on my face start to engorge and a similar heat starts to grow in my belly. I shake my head, if I wasn't careful I'd want another encore, and there definitely wasn't time for that. And anyway I'd just had a shower and gotten all dressed up for work. I enter our small kitchen and Bluebell finally notices me, her mouth opening in a wide smile. "Good Mooo-rning", she says warmly, clearly feeling a bit blissed out from her milking.

"Hi yourself." I wasn't quite sure what Bluebell and I had become exactly. We were definitely roommates, certainly friends, and inarguably lovers, what with all the milky kinky fucking. The entire thing felt both casual and deeply intimate all at once, but in a way that didn't fit conveniently into any of my familiar boxes. Maybe it was a Blue thing? We've never sat down and talked about it, just one thing leading to another and another thing leading to orgasms. It was nice, I was having fun and the sex was incredible; if there was one thing my new body was good for it was fucking. Did Bluebell even want a human-style relationship with me? Did I want one with her? I honestly wasn't sure. So much of my life has been in flux in the weeks since my change that I'm not sure I even know the answer. All I know is that I love Bluebell, maybe not exactly romantically, but definitely as a friend, and that the sex part is great. And honestly, all those dairy calories were a big help I was since I was still figuring out the whole food thing.

And speaking of milk, another thing we'd become was business partners. "How are we doing for supply?"

"This one believes it will be adequate to cover our deliveries. Barely." Bluebell smiles at me, a playful edge to her expression, "No thanks to you."

"Well," I touch my facial labia with a finger tip coquettishly, "Sometimes you have to put pleasure before business."

"There is that keen nose for commercial matters that makes you the ideal partner for this venture."

I giggle, "I didn't hear you complaining last night. Or this morning."

Bluebell just blinks her big black eyes and emits an innocent "Moo." I give the cowish Blue alien a fond smile and a relatively chaste labial-peck on her head, and then I raid the kitchenette, filling a special cup with warm tea and heating up one of my protein rich breakfasts. I take my place at our little table and gently insert the vaguely phallic shaped straw of my naughty sippy cup into my face-pussy and take a tiny experimental suckle to test the temperature. Very hot tea on labia is not a nice feeling. Satisfied the tea wasn't gonna burn my cunt off, I take a long drink of the strong sweet tea, trying to focus on the taste instead of the very sexy sensations radiating through my face. I have just enough time for a quick breakfast, not a long masturbation session. I put the tea aside and pick up my protein cylinder, a long tube of chorizo flavoured meat-substitute that looks unappetizingly like an orange hotdog. But when feeding yourself involves penetration, a rubbery meat tube gets the job done. I take a moment to calm myself down, wrap my fingers around the warm protein tube and press it against the labia on my face. I wiggle the wiener around until the tip finds the sweet spot and starts to slip inside my pussy. I feel my breakfast stretch my opening and moan a little, this part inconveniently always feels good. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, feel air rush past my ears. I push the protein cylinder into myself further and further, inch by inch until the tip of it bumps against the back of my throat. I see stars and my mouth pussy drools obscenely. It feels just like I've stuffed my cunt full of a sex toy. I tip my head back and swallow, my esophagus pulling the orange hotdog whole into my gizzard which will chew it up before sending it along to my stomach. I pant and clench and unclench my hands, force myself to take deep breaths and quiet the burning arousal in my body. I can't possibly have sex after every meal, no matter how fucking good it feels. I take one last calming moment and open my eyes to see Bluebell looking at me intently. "That was quite sexy."

I laugh, "Not helping!"


"Delivery!" I pull my vehicle to a stop and it folds its mechanical climbing legs, lowering itself back onto its chunky wheels. I put the bike into standby, swing myself sidesaddle, and plant my cowboy boots on the dusty ground. "Guys! Delivery!"

The backdoor to the little restaurant pops open and Sammanal pokes his head out. "Halley! How is my favourite Earthling!"

"Busy," I grumble, as I work to undo the thick nylon straps securing the large milk dewar to the cargo rack. "And I bet you use that line on all the Halleys."

Sam laughs as he comes outside. He pulls a vape out of a pocket in his stained kitchen apron and slips it between his lips. "Need help?"

"What if I said yes?"

Sam quirks an unkempt eyebrow, shrugs expressively, and takes a long drag on his vape. Sammanal is very handsome, with brick red skin, messy blue-black hair, a stubbled chin, tall and angular features, and a twinkle in his dark eyes. He is just a little bit of a dirtbag in a way that's cute instead of threatening. Sammanal blows a plume of inky smoke and winks at me. I blush, grateful that I'm wearing a holstein-print mask over my face to hide my pussy and also blushes.

I manage to get the strap clip open, but in a way that gets my dumb cornflower blue gingham dress snagged in the mechanism. When I decided that Bluebell's Dairy Service needed a signature look for its delivery girl, I thought Earthling-style cowgirl would be perfect. Lot's of nostalgic charm that no one would understand, a playful nod to a farm aesthetic that doesn't at all translate to this planet, and most importantly I'd look totally cute in western wear. And while curvaceous sexpot Halley-24 totally pulls off the look, wearing jeans and a shirt would have been so much more practical than a kitschy dress and vest and little cowboy hat. Even a classic 1950s milkman getup would have been more functional. I growl and extricate myself from the rack. Sammanal salutes me with the tip of his glowing vape.

"You know, I would love to cook you dinner sometime." Sam says, watching my breasts as I lift the heavy milk dewar off the luggage rack, which is easier than it should be since my transformed body is nearly as strong as it is horny.

"You just want to see what I look like under the mask," I say playfully, batting my eyes at him.

"Of course! It is very mysterious!"

"What if I'm horribly deformed?" I ask as playfully as I can. "Or just ugly."

"Tragedy is sexy." Sam shrugs, "And we can always put the mask back on."

"Sam! Stop flirting with the Earthling female and drag that disgusting cattle fluid inside before it spoils!" A toad shaped brown alien wearing a cook outfit leans out the kitchen door waving his tentacles. He makes a noise like an underwater loudspeaker that I understand as: "I ain't paying you to practice your filthy human courtship rituals."

"Hi, Mister Phrune-Kcure!" I say waving.

"It's pronounced PhhrnnnnKcrrrnnn," the alien wumbles at me before oozing back into his kitchen and slamming the door.

Sam thumbs off his vape, smiles ruefully, and cracks his knuckles. I set down the milk dewar and he goes to lift it, stops short, and tries again more carefully. "Stars Above, Halley! How do you make carrying this look so easy?"

I smile with my eyes above the mask, "It's a mystery."


"Well Howdy, Pilgrim!" Steadfast Freya booms gayly as she lifts me the rest of the way onto the Hideaway's rooftop garden. "Ah reckon you look a might thirsty, Buckaroo!"

I roll my eyes and slip my fingers behind the earloops of my mask. "Okay, who taught you how to cowboy talk?"

"I sought Hank's counsel on the significance of your costume," Freya says with a big smile. "How did I perform? I spent all morning rehearsing."

"You nailed it, Pardner," I say as I peel my mask off my face, the fabric clinging a little to my always sticky lips.

"Yippee-ki-yay, Motherfucker!"

I giggle, "Settle down. Where's my Mud?"

Freya crosses two of her burly arms and rests her other hands on her hips, "You could feign happiness at my company for a moment longer."

"No... coffee-stuff... now..."

"Addict!" Freya laughs and marches toward her apartment to fetch our drinks. I stand at the rooftop rail and look out over the city, enjoying the feeling of the warm breeze on my unclothed face. After a morning crammed into a stuffy and increasingly funky mask, this was deeply refreshing, even if the feeling of the sun on my facial pussy feels uncannily like that one time I went to a nude beach. I wonder if I'll ever be confident enough to go out like this in public. I shake my head, probably not any time soon. Although the whole face mask wearing thing was turning out to be a real drag. How could anyone get used to it?

I turn and see Freya returning with two steaming mugs of Mud clutched in her top hands, and a carafe and a special Halley cock-sippy lid in her other hands. She hands me my mug and lid, which I leave off for the moment, breathing in the aromatic earthy scent of the not-quite-coffee. I look over and catch Freya studying my facial labia. "You're staring again."

"I apologize, it is just that your altered face is very beautiful."

"And strange." I say rolling my eyes.

"Yes," Freya says nodding, "but many beautiful things are strange as well."

I brush my hair back with a hand and look at Freya, her strong face, her muscular vital body, those four outrageous tits packed into a tight tunic with a deep-V for top cleavage and a belly window for lower underboob, her long blonde braids hanging loose around her shoulders, and those intense blue eyes. I glance away and feel the warm tingles of arousal in my pelvis and cheeks, and think again of the kiss she gave me in my sick bed. "You really have a way of making a girl feel special."

"Imagine how much more special you shall feel when you let me consummate my lust..." Freya's look is decidedly predatory.

"Easy horndog," I say laughing. Freya sighs wistfully and takes a hearty drink of her Mud. I lift my mug up almost to my labia and blow on it, impatient for it to cool enough to drink. "Even if I were interested in hooking up, which I'm totally not admitting to, I need to sort things out with Hank before anything happens between us. I know it's not a big deal to you, but I think it would be to him, since it would be to me, y'know? I'd really like to come to the bar eventually without it being..." cringe inducingly awful in every way... "awkward." I dip my little finger into my Mud, and decide it passes the baby bottle test, and pop my special lid over the mug top. "We go over this every Shift."

"And yet every Shift you and Hank persist in evading one another."

"We Halley's are a slippery lot," I say as I lift my lidded mug up for a drink. I twist my wrist to wiggle the phallus spout of my cup into my pussymouth. I suck with my labia and guid the straw right into the sweet spot at my oral vaginal vestibule. My eyes are closed and I can feel pleasure radiating out from the rubbery shaft of my drinking spout. I moan despite myself. I tilt my head back a little and warm Mud flows into the cunt that is my mouth and down my throat. My pussymouth fills with the earthy, spicy, velvety flavour of my coffee substitute while blood pulses into my facial labia making everything engorge and tighten and get so much more sensitive. I feel pussy juices start to dribble down my chin and the smell of cunt mixes with the Mud aroma. Back on Earth drinking coffee had sometimes felt almost sexual, but this right here was pornographic. Without thinking about it my hand starts to move, pushing the cock-shaped drink spout in and out of my labia, fucking myself just a little. I groan in my throat and with my prosthesis and realize what I'm doing and stop. I pull the cup free from my mouth, a shiny thread of grool connecting my pussymouth to the mug. Freya is staring, a look of naked desire on her face. "Sorry," I say, blushing and looking away, panting. "It's um, really good Mud?"

"The way you drink your beverage is doing nothing to arrest my desires..."

I laugh a little and wipe the pussy drool off my chin,  "Not the first time I've heard that today."

Freya laughs too and gives my shoulder a hearty squeeze before turning to look out over the Mesa city with me. We sip in companionable silence for a while before Freya smiles at me and asks, "Have you found any other new lovers?"

I blush, "You are way too invested in my sex life."

"I would satisfy your needs myself, but you continue to resist my advances."

"Well, Freya the Relentless and Inquisitive, there is no one new. Just the Bluebell thing." And my Grey AI sextoy-slash-fuckbuddy. And that one night at The Grove, but Freya doesn't need to know everything.

"You must know your dalliance with Bluebell is not exclusive. Blue's only pair bond when mating."

"That doesn't mean I need to throw myself face-cunt first at the nearest pretty person I meet."

"True." Freya says, nodding and taking a long sip of her Mud. "But I have known many Halleys, and have always found you all happiest with a romantic partner."

I take another drink of my Mud and sigh, it was annoying but Freya was probably right. As great as things were with Bluebell, I know I'd eventually need more of an Earthling-style relationship. "Yeah, well... eventually..."

"I know of many attractive males and females with whom you might have chemistry!"

I groan and toss my hat at Freya, which bounces harmlessly off a forearm raised defensively over her mug. "I'm just not ready to put myself back out there. I know you're all about getting back up on the horse, but I'm still getting used to my new face. And my new sex stuff. Okay?"

"Fine, I shall not try and 'set you up', Herdsman." Freya picks up my small cowboy hat from the ground and carefully places it on her head. "But tell me, Cowpoke, did you flirtatiously palaver with the handsome kitchen rogue again today?"



"You watch where you're going you scaly asshole!!" Fucking Reptilian maniac! Who fucking drives like this on a goat track!

I force myself to pull the bike over and calm myself down. Flotsam has like a dozen or so actually paved service roads, which mostly just go around in a circle or connect with freight furniculars, it's not like any of them go anywhere exciting. Speeding along the tarmac doesn't take you anywhere! And anyway Flotsam is lousy with flying vehicles! If you're in a hurry just fucking fly guy! "Just being an asshole for the sake of being an asshole." I sigh, at least my deliveries are almost done. Just a couple more stops and then back home to set up for tomorrow and hangout with Bluebell. I smile with my eyes and feel parts of my body warm up, I'm pretty excited to see my Blue whatever-she-is-to-me again. Which, ugh Halley, you lovesick dork! I smile even harder, feel my cheeks pull at my pussymouth; whatever, it's nice.

I settle back on my bike saddle and watch the sapients walking by. This particular road connects some major lifts with a big Human Quarter shopping and restaurant district, so there's a pretty steady stream of humans. A part of me is jealous of them and their sense of normalcy, or well, what passes for normalcy on Flotsam. Sure that girl has deer antlers and the guy she's holding hands with has an impressive moose rack, but they're clearly a cute young couple out on a date, while I'm a permanently pussy-faced clone wearing a cowboy outfit. I see families and lovers and teens and loners, and they all basically blend in together. They could be from anywhere, once you get past the superficial spacey stuff. I doubt I'll ever be able to dissolve into a crowd like that again. If I popped off my face mask every pair of eyes would look at my face, maybe in fascination or maybe disgust or maybe just to leer at me, but I'd definitely be the center of attention. Even with my face covered people are studying me, guys and some girls obviously ogling my enhanced breasts and curves. I've never been comfortable with attention, and even just these fairly casual stares are enough to make me feel anxious. I spot a little group of Red Robed figures walking in a little bubble of empty space, other folks subconsciously shying away a bit. I wonder what it must be like to be hidden like them, to be anonymized. Is being obscured better than being weird? Was having no identity better than too much of one? In my darkest moments I envied the Robed, but now I can recognize that it's not a lifestyle I'd actually want. What I want is to fit in as myself, not be erased. I reach up and touch my face through my mask, shivering a little at the sensation. Was my life even that bad right now? Really? I was deformed, sure, but I have friends and a lover, a home and a job, and compared to so many other sapients my physical challenges were totally manageable. In some ways fun even. Definitely sexy. Maybe I should just count my blessings and get on with my pussymouthed life?

I sit up straight in the saddle and wake the bike out of standby. I stretch my neck and take one last look over the crowd, searching for anyone familiar, like a client or acquaintance. Maybe Sammanal, a silly part of me thinks. Or the new Halley, a darker part whispers. My breath catches for a second, I'm nowhere near ready to meet the inevitable Halley-25. I have to assume that my cultist misadventure and subsequent transformation satisfied the Backup Respawning conditions of my Cloning Contract. Right? If this didn't send in the clone, what would? Which means it's only a matter of time until my newest clone sister is decanted in Clem's apartment, is sent to Hank for a debrief, and thrust at me as a cautionary tale about trusting the wrong versions of herself. I feel tears sting my eyes, I'm so not ready to have the living evidence that I'm broken goods show up for a pep talk. Not in the slightest. If Halley-25 could just give me a few more months to sort myself out a bit more, I'd be really really grateful. But fortunately I spy no Halleys, new or otherwise in the crowd, so I take a deep breath and kick the bike into gear.

I start to slowly trundle forward with the crowd when my Keyband chimes. "Hmm?" The New Message graphic is flashing so I stop the bike and tap it open. It's from some sort of redacted contact...

-[blocked]: if you wish to learn more about halley prime proceed to the grove and meet my representative

-Halley24: Okay? Who is this?

-[blocked]: an interested party

-[blocked]: if you wish to learn more meet my representative

-[blocked]: <wayfinding packet>

I frown and would have bitten my tongue if I still had teeth. Or a tongue. What the fuck was this about? A mysterious weirdo wants me to go to a clandestine meeting about Halley-Prime? This seems like a terrible idea. I click open the wayfinding information and see the meeting coordinates are on the grand meadow of The Grove. I check the time and see that I can make the meeting as long as I hustle to finish my deliveries. But do I even want to go to this? Meet the 'representative' of an anonymous 'interested party', which doesn't sound ominous at all. Is it even safe? I finger the smooth silver band of my Grey technology choker, I do have a guardian angel and The Grove is inside the city limits. HAL-E could be there in moments if something bad happened. Besides, the meadow was a weirdly open place to stage an ambush. So I probably didn't need to worry about safety. Did I still care what happened to Halley-Prime? That was the real question. Searching for answers hasn't worked out great for the other Halleys and so far it hasn't exactly been kind to me either. Was solving the mystery really worth risking whatever life I'd managed to carve out for myself since the cult? Shouldn't I focus on 24 instead of Prime? But then there was what The Sleeping God told me, that Halley Prime had been the true target of abduction. That she was in some way valuable. That I'm secretly special. And yeah, that did have me curious. All my life I've always been an afterthought, an outsider: an orphan, then a trailer park shut in, and now a damaged clone delivery girl. The chance to learn that I've always been important is devilishly tempting. I sigh and chew my labia together, a meeting couldn't hurt could it?

-Halley24: Okay, I'm in. Can you give me any more details? Tell me anything about yourself?


-Halley24: Hello? Hi?


-Halley24: Really?

-Halley24: Oooooh I'm so mysterious!


-Halley24: This better not be a joke.

Fucking mysterious strangers, I kick the bike into gear and open the throttle. The bike starts to speed along the strip of road left clear for vehicles, I have deliveries to finish and a meeting to get to. I honk my little horn at a slow moving drone resupply cart. "Oughta the way jerkass! Coming through!"


I steer the bike slowly between the Grey silver plinths and into The Grove, shivering at the sensation of the quarantine field passing through me. I'm not sure which part of it creeps me out most, that the field itself has the power to vaporize me, or the reminder I'm stepping through the safety curtain into the infectious disease ward. I drive the bike a little further and park it, remind myself The Grove is a lovely park filled with harmless sex hippies. And anyway I'm totally immune to the Funganoid. Nothing to worry about, except I guess, my shadowy meeting with the 'representative'.

I'm a little early for the rendezvous and close enough to walk, so I decide to hoof it the rest of the way. It's a nice day and there are really so few opportunities to be in nature on Flotsam. An early therapist, the one before the one I really clicked with, swore that the key to mental health was hiking. He was a flake, but on this one point he was probably onto something. I pull my mask off my face a little and suck in a deep breath of air pregnant with the smell of flowers and aphrodisiac pollen. I feel my head swim a little and pleasant tingles in my body. I'm definitely feeling the wellness. I do a quick wayfinding check and start strolling in the direction of my meeting, but I don't get more than fifteen steps closer before a green face erupts from a thicket of tall wildflowers. "Jesus!"

The green face belongs to a familiar naked green woman, curvaceous and bountiful and sporting a large erection. "Halley!" She squeals happily, scurrying over for a hug.

I open my arms and hug her back, try but mostly fail to ignore the way her cock prods my stomach when we embrace. And the way her hands instantly glide down my back to feel up my ass. "Hi Rylnx."

Rylnx lifts her head off my shoulder and looks at me with her big dark green eyes. "Have you come to make love with me?" She asks, biting her lip, her nostrils flare as she starts to pant a little. "You should take off that awful mask."

I can feel my heart beating faster and all two and half of my pussies start to engorge. Rylnx smells amazing and The Grove's special horny magic is starting to do its thing, not that I need much of a push these days. It's extremely tempting to give in to it, blow off my dumb mystery meeting, and just fuck this gorgeous creature. I shake my head trying to clear it a bit, if I ever wanted my life to more than just a series of bizarre pornographic scenes than I had to prioritize business. "Sorry," I say with a gasp, "I'd really love to, really, but I'm supposed to meet with someone here in like ten minutes..."

Rlynx makes a whining sound and puts on an anguished pout. "But didn't we have such fun last time?" My mind flashes back to the night Bluebell and I partied in The Grove. Memories of dancing and drinking Berry Wine, singing around a bonfire after shedding our clothes, and getting high on all sorts of locally grown botanicals. The blurry image of Bluebell ending up in Halley-22's arms and slinking away into the bushes to have sex. The whirlwind of finding myself in the orgy of Dryads, touching, kissing in the way that I kiss, fumbling from person to person, until I found myself between Rlynx and that spectacular male Grove Creature, the Satyr Pantor. Of drawing them both to me, crouching on the ground between them on my hands and knees, and baring all my openings.  The sensation of Pantor, his muscular body draped over my back, his sinewy arms round my hips and waist, his inhumanly long and hard cock thrust into my glowing, boiling cunt, stretching me to the point of bursting. Rylnx in counterpoint, her almost as large green cock in my pussymouth, smooth balls against my chin, shaft shoved down my throat, her soft belly on my forehead. The glorious memory of getting fucked from both sides while the Dryad and Satyr kissed passionately above me. The almost beastial noises I made as I came again and again, until we eventually collapsed together in a contented mass. "So much fun," I say quietly.

"Wouldn't you like to have fun like that again? I'm sure we could find Pantor... maybe stage a reenactment?"

I close my eyes and think about how it felt to be between Rylnx and Pantor, of having their hard hot cocks stretching me from either side, pounding into me, satisfying all of my needs. Of Pantor's rugged male hardness and the soft feminine warmth of Rlynx, a perfect bisexual moment aided by the ecstatic high of floral aphrodisiac pollen. Just absolutely.... "ffffuuuckk..."

Rlynx leans in closer to me, breaths in my ear, "Yyessss...." She slips a finger under my face mask, takes it half off. She licks my bare facepussy with a too long green tongue, a lengthy caress that makes my knees tremble and makes me moan. "You taste divine..."

"N-no Rylnx. N-n-not right now." Rlynx lets me go, she knows the rules, no means no. She takes a step back and flops down onto her butt, her achingly hard cock sticking up like a flagpole. She looks disappointed and frustrated and a little hurt and so, so horny. My face mask hangs from my ear and my pussymouth is inflamed and shiny wet, juices dripping down my chin. I might not be the nymphomaniac host of a sexually transmitted parasitic alien lifeform, but my cheeks ache with pent up need. I'm sure Rylnx needs to fuck more than I do, but fuck me I need it too. Would it be so bad to just go for it? Just fuck her with my face a bit to get it out of our systems? I'm too revved up for a serious meeting right now anyway and it seems cruel to just rebuff her like this. And that glorious cock is right there, it would be wasteful not to enjoy it. I got here early, the meeting still isn't for a few minutes, I can make this work. "Fuck it, I've got time."

I toss my face mask to the ground, drop to my knees, and duck my head forward like I'm bobbing for cock. Rylnx blinks in surprise and shifts, and my labial lips bump awkwardly onto cock, bouncing against her glans. Rylnx giggles and then gasps when I grab her long green veiny cock with my hands and start to stroke it. I rub my pussymouth all over her glans, painting her cock with my hot juices and getting it nice and wet and slippery. Rylnx tips her head back and lets out a moan of relief. I lift my head back and take a long deep breath through my hidden nostrils, and then lower my face onto her cock, using my hands to hold her cock steady as I push it through my labia. Panting, cock firmly in my pussymouth, I twist my face looking for the sweet spot, and ahhhh finding it, I push forward and down, force Rylnx's cock into the vagina that is my throat. Pleasurable discomfort radiates through my body as I feel myself stretch. I emit a deep moaning sound and Rylnx is panting. I push and push her cock deeper into my face until I feel my labial lips press against the skin of her crotch and balls. I look up at her and only see the underside of her large green tits. "Ooooh Halley," Rlynx gasps as her  hands reach down to grab me by the back of my head.


I stumble over the last hill in the direction of my rendezvous. I'm officially running late and I can still feel Rylnx's syrupy cum oozing out of my pussymouth and into my mask. I probably reek like sex, or at least pussy. I have grass stains on the knees of my cowgirl dress and my hair is a mess and I've somehow lost my hat. My hands feel sticky and I hope this 'representative' doesn't want a handshake. I don't think I'm about to make a very good first impression.

I crest the top of the little hill and don't see anyone waiting for me. No trench coat clad spymaster or red dress wearing femme fatale or anyone even vaguely 'representative' shaped, just an empty meadow on a sunny afternoon. Maybe I'm supposed to get their attention somehow? Do a hand signal to lure them out of hiding? I frown, my instructions told me where to go and when, and didn't include any special protocol for when I arrived. I was a little late, maybe my contact left already? I groan, I know I shouldn't have stopped for sex. Way to ruin a chance at solving the mystery you dumb slut. I place my hand on my forehead and groan again. Maybe there's a way to fix this? I could try sending another message to the 'interested party'... except their address was anonymous. "Damn it, Halley!"

I look around and see something shiny moving a few hundred feet away, closer to the trees. I squint and see it's a woman, or at least something woman shaped, and she looks to be out walking a large dog. I jog towards her, maybe she saw who I was supposed to meet and where they went? It couldn't hurt to ask. As I get closer I decide the woman looks more robotic than fleshy: she's completely covered in chrome metal styled like a retro-futuristic sexualized feminine robot. She has perfectly sculpted breasts, a slit visor instead of eyes, and sharp stiletto antenna sticking out of her ears. She reminds me of this little sexy fembot figurine Clem had, a reproduction of a larger fetishy statue by a Japanese artist. The silver robot slinks along in a gracefully rigid gait on the tips of her toes, and her dog rambles obediently along beside her. The dog looks a lot like an oversized Australian shepherd but with royal blue and purple fur, except as I get nearer I see the dog is actually a dog-girl, a canine petgirl walking on all four paws. The long fur and completely canine limbs obscure it, but I can see the doggirl has a mostly human torso lined with furless tits and that her face is mostly human aside from her big shepherdy ears, and the black-nosed muzzle of her lower face. The doggirl's shaggy tail is wagging and she has her nose pressed down to the grass. Her behavior and body language is so totally dog, that I wonder just how canine her mind has become.

"Hi! Sorry!" I pant loudly as I catch up. The robotic woman stops, stands tall, and artfully tilts a hip, but doesn't reply. The doggirl barks happily when she sees me and her tail starts to wag even faster. She tugs on the leash and a long pink tongue hangs out of her mouth as she starts to pant. "Cute dog," I say, trying to break the ice. The visored robotic face regards me, and I notice the only other feature on her face are pursed lips embossed on the smooth steel of her face. "Can I pet your dog?" I offer my hand to the petgirl. The doggirl thrusts her nose forward and sniffs it, and deciding she likes the scent of my jib, offers me several slobbery licks. "Hi," I say to the dog, ruffling the long fur on the top of her head and ears. "I'm Halley," I say to the robot and doggirl, "what are your names?” The robot just stands patiently and the dog fidgets between trying to lick me and letting me pet her head. "You at least have to tell me the name of this cutie..." I say, pleading a little. The pettgirl rolls onto her back, paws tucked, eight breasts pooling on her chest, and I see that this doggirl is the red rocket having kind. "Sorry, pup, this belly rub is a little too intimate for a first walk." The dog whines and rolls back onto her paws and sits. "Okay my shiny friend, it was nice meeting your dog, but I actually need some help here. I was supposed to meet someone, and I'm running a little late, and I was wondering if you know where they went. I, uh, don't actually know what they look like? Or their name. But I'm looking for a... 'representative’…”

"You've found them," The doggirl says from her sit. The petgirl's entire body language is different, still and commanding, and a bemused human intelligence shines in her eyes. "You can call me Sceolàn."


"I'm your contact," The doggirl replies. "Here, take my leash and we can have our meeting while we walk. It's a beautiful day for it."

"Okay," I say limply as the femme robot precisely hands me the leash. Sceolàn stands to her paws and starts walking, dragging me along with her. "What's with the dog thing? Is this like, part of your cover?"

Sceolàn wags her tail and makes a kind of doggy chuckling noise, "Something like that."

"That was quite the act back there, you totally had me convinced you were actually a dog. Mentally, I mean."

"It wasn't an act. When I'm in dog-mode most of my human mind shuts off, and I'm basically just a happy dog until I switch back to agent-mode."

"That... seems pretty drastic for just a cover story, no offense."

"It's fine, and honestly dog-mode is amazing. Do you know how happy dogs are? Everything is wonderful: food, pets, games, being outside. Every moment is the greatest moment and everyone in the world is either your best friend or a new friend to make. It's really a pleasant state to live in and a pretty okay tradeoff for my safety." Sceolàn pulls up for a moment to sniff at a patch of meadow flowers. "In my past life I'd gotten myself into trouble with some really bad people. I came to Flotsam to hide, and Master offered this as a solution. I could be Master's pet dog, hide in a way that no one from my past life would recognize, and work for Master as an agent still, using my canine form as a disguise." Sceolàn raises a hind leg and pees on the flowers. "By the way, keep a firm grip on the leash, okay? Sometimes I can't control when I switch into dog-mode, and I might try and bolt."

I nod and tighten my hold on the leash, "And your Master is interested in Halley-Prime."

"Yes." The petgirl nods seriously, her ears flopping with the motion.

"Why? What's in it for them?"

"My Master is an infobroker, one who's had previous dealings with Halley-Prime. Master doesn't like leaving puzzles unfinished, and is, let's say, vexed by Prime's disappearance. Discovering where Halley-Prime has gone has become something of a hobby for my Master. An impudent pup might even say it's an obsession." Sceolàn stops and raises a paw to scratch an ear.

"And where do I fit into this?"

"Our Network has uncovered a promising lead, but one that needs a Halley to sort out. One of your sisters...." Sceolàn looks up suddenly towards a nearby copse of trees and barks. She lunges forward dragging on the leash, still barking. I hold onto the leash and almost lose my grip. The doggirl raises up on her hind legs, pulling as hard as she can, still barking her head off. I see a little hopping creature, something between a toad and a lizard, but moving more like a bunny in the grass. Some sort of critter that Sceolàn spotted and desperately wants to chase. "No! Bad dog! Heel!" I feel ridiculous, we were just having a conversation! "Sceolàn, Heel!" I manage to drag her sideways, and she comes along, looking a bit guilty. "You weren't joking on the dog-mode switch..." Sceolàn just stares up at me, her eyes flat and loving and totally canine. "Still a dog, eh?" I sigh and pick a direction to walk and Sceolàn happily falls into stride beside me. "Well, at least it's a nice day for it..."

We walk for a very pleasant ten minutes or so before the doggirl blinks and clears her throat, "Sorry. Those little monsters always make me lose my composure."

"Squirrels? Whatcha gonna do?"


"It's an Earth-dog thing..."

"Right," Sceolàn makes a thoughtful dog face, "Where were we?"

"You need me for a lead."

"Yes. We have information that one of your clone sisters has found evidence about why Halley-Prime was abducted. She's keeping it to herself, possibly because she's been intimidated by someone. Master believes that this Halley will only share what she's learned with another Halley, which is why we'd like you to go pay her a visit."

I touch my filthy face mask, "The Sleeping God told me that Halley-Prime was the true target of the abduction."

Sceolàn nodded, "Master had surmised as much. Master believes this evidence contains new details about why the abduction took place. It could be the key to finding Halley-Prime."

"Or at least explaining why I'm here."

"Exactly." The petgirl agent tilts her head, "Interested?"

I break eye contact with the petgirl and look away, down the slop of the city and out towards the Junk Desert. This felt like a big decision, one of those choices that would inevitably lead to consequences. I wasn’t sure it was worth it. I could stay with Bluebell and focus on the dairy business, maybe sort things out with Clem, carve out a new life. Leave chasing after Halley-Prime to hobbyist infobrokers and their dogs. To newer, pristine Halleys. I blow out a sigh, but I wanted to know. I wanted to know why I was on Flotsam and why I’m a clone and why I was preyed on by a cosmic alien horror. I wanted to know what happened to Halley-Prime. Fuck it, I came to this meeting didn’t I? I’ve already made my choice. "Is it dangerous?"

"We don't expect it to be."

"And your Master will share what they learn with me."


"And you expect this to actually solve the mystery?"


“This is such a bad idea,” I say, “But I’m in.”

“Excellent,” Sceolàn says with a bark, her tail wagging. The petgirl walks closer to me, sits rather formally and lifts a front paw, like she’s doing the handshake trick. I laugh and reach out, grasp the rough paw in my hand, and we shake. “Welcome to the team. If you’ll tap your Keyband against my collar, there’ll be a secure file transfer with the mission details. Do not look at them now, find a private place to review the documents. Included in the packet is a network address to let Master know when you’re done.”


“Now if you could walk me back to my minder, we can end this meeting. I’m going to slip back into dog-mode if you don’t mind. Walkies are so much better that way.”

“Yeah, but just one more question before you check out.”


"What do I call your Master?"

"You can call them Gan Ceann"



Re: Flotsam

Another new chapter of Flotsam. You can read the new chapter here: https://indigocarminefiction.blogspot.c … c0bb2178c2


Chapter 21: Sexbox

I’m standing in front of a giant matte black cube with SEXBOX written on it in glowing white letters that writhe like a mirage. "I guess this is the place."

I walk towards the strangely featureless building looking for an entrance. The non-reflective black paint seems to drink in all the bright neon Port District light around it, making the Sexbox look more like an otherworldly absence than a physical place. I can't see any obvious doors or windows, just smooth flat surfaces except for the SEXBOX hologram, some sort of clever signage that transcends language. I approach the too black wall and it's like staring into an endless void, just blank, depthless black that my mind refuses to process as a nearby solid surface. I reach out and touch the wall and it's rougher than I expected, textured like sharkskin. I stare along the surface of the wall, searching for imperfections, but the wall is smooth as far as I can see. I leave my fingers touching the wall and walk along it, in the direction of the farthest corner, hoping that I'll maybe feel something my eyes can't see. My fingertips get warm as they scrape along the rough black paint, until suddenly a circle of white holographic light strobes under my touch. I press my entire hand against the glowing circle, flattening my palm against the wall, hoping this might open a door somehow. I flinch as two spots of light appear on the black wall, about three feet on either side of the spot my hand is touching. The lights move along the wall, carving twin paths, etching out a large octagon shape with a glowing white line. The octagonal outline flashes and splits open, revealing itself to be a hidden doorway, and I stumble awkwardly into a lobby lit by dim red light.

I stand up and try to regain my composure, blinking my eyes to adjust to the dark red light. I see several beautiful naked people lounging on couches along the longest wall of the room. They are mostly women, or at least femme, with huge naked breasts and toned stomachs and generous hips, enhanced proportions as unrealistic as my own. One of theses women sits forward with her legs spread and I see she has a cock as wide as my wrist. A hugely, splendidly fat woman yawns and shifts, her ponderous belly and enormous breasts rolling with her, while beside her a three foot tall muscular woman cracks her knuckles. I see men in the group too, slender beautiful ones in corsets and lingerie and muscular decathlete types and big furry bears, all looking languid or stern or bored. I notice a skinny woman wearing a flowing gown staring at me intently, her too wide eyes drinking me in. A hologram of giant red painted lips covers the wall behind them, slowly moving frame by frame, biting themselves and licking and mouthing the word sssseeeexxxxxbbbbooooxxxx in a slow loop. I shiver and look away.

Yep, definitely a brothel.

At the back of the room is a desk and the woman who must be in charge. She’s older, maybe in her fifties by Earth years, and is beautiful in a handsome sort of way. She has platinum blonde hair cut short but still tied back in an efficient updo, sculpted sweeping bangs, piercing emerald green eyes, a stern mouth, and a strong chin. The woman is dressed in a modestly cut fancy dress that makes me think of 1950s TV wives. Standing off to the side is an elderly  woman with an ugly wrinkled face, shaved head, wide body, and muscular veiny limbs. She’s wearing a garment mostly made of leather and steel and she’s holding a futuristic looking war hammer bigger than my head. The ugly woman’s puckered, sagging mouth grins at me with amusement as her eyes look me over. It feels like she’s ogling me. The handsome woman clears her throat to get my attention and in a primly authoritative voice asks, “What are you doing here?”

“Um? I’m looking for someone?”

The ugly woman with the space hammer laughs, “This is the right place for it!”

“Quite.” Evil Mrs. June Cleaver studies me judgmentally, her face unenthused by what she sees. For my covert rendezvous I’ve dressed in my best noir outfit: practical boots and tights, a black turtleneck tunic with a wide corset belt, and a dark grey jacket that's a cross between a cape, a poncho, and a trench coat. I have a black face mask with a stylistic red lipstick print over my mouthpussy and I'm wearing my hair up in a tight bun. When I dressed myself I thought my outfit was a smart mix of flexible and stylish, but now I'm worried it's entirely too theatrical. Less noir heroine and more Halley wearing a ridiculous costume. I blush behind my face mask, “I don’t mean that, uh, in a sexy way…”

“Then why are you wasting my time?” A platinum eyebrow raises dangerously.

“My, um, friend sent me? Gan Ceann?”

“I’m afraid I do not know your friend.”


Hammer lady smiles lewdly and raises her empty hand up for attention. “But I do. Your friend has already paid for your special fun. Most generously.”

“This is highly irregular…” Desk lady doesn’t like irregularity.

“Are you questioning me?” The woman with the hammer asks playfully.

TV mom stands very still and a nervous energy seems to radiate from the lounging sex workers. I quickly recalculate the power dynamics in the room. “Of course not, Matron.”

“See that you never do,” The old woman says without a shred of humor in her voice. “Now you,” she says, pointing her hammer at me.

“Halley,” I say.

The old woman laughs and the desk lady sniffs and looks skyward. “Now Halley, as a guest, I’ll have to ask you to lose the cloak and mask. And you’ll have to leave your Keyband here at the front desk.”

I reach up and touch my face mask. “I’d really rather keep the mask on… I have… a face thing…”

The old woman taps the flat of her hammer against her open hand. “I really must insist darling, the only masks allowed inside are the ones we provide. And your friend didn’t pay for that sort of playtime.” The ugly woman leers, “I’m sure it isn’t anything we haven’t seen before.”

I blush and my heart starts to race, I really don’t want to take my mask off in front of all these people. I take a deep breath, ball my fists, stand up tall, think about how I can convince her to change her mind. The Matron just smirks at me while she brandishes her hammer. Fuck. “No way you can make an exception for me?” The Matron smiles and shakes her head, “Darling.” Fuck. Okay Halley, you can do this. If anyone is going to be accepting it'll be a bunch of sex workers. They all know what a pussy looks like. I unlatch my Keyband, and drop it into a pocket in my trench cape. Breathing a deep sigh, I peel my mask off my pussymouth and thrust it into another pocket. I close my eyes and count to three, and when I open them everyone in the room is looking at the cunt on my face. I feel my cheeks burn with shame as I bundle my jacket into Desk Lady’s unenthused arms.

The Matron blows a whistle. “Shit, I stand corrected! That is something I’ve never seen before!”

“Indeed,” the woman at the desk agrees.

The old woman studies me again, tilting her head like a director. “You know if you ever wanted a change in careers, I think you’ve got a future in the industry.” She leers obscenely, “With a face like that, you’ll fit right in!”

I wince, “I’ll… take that into consideration?”

The Matron guffaws, and the woman at the desk looks unimpressed. “Aceaia, can you please escort Halley to see Halley.”

“Yes Matron.” The woman with the too big eyes and the flowing gown stands up. As she slips out of the lounging pretties, I notice her gown is diaphanous and nearly transparent, showing off the outline of her thin body, small breasts, and narrow hips. I can clearly see the dark circles of her large nipples and the stark outline of a black g-string. Her hair is dark and wavy, center parted and long, and her enormous dark eyes drink in the world like pools with hidden depths. “Please follow me,” she says in a soft voice.

I turn to follow her, but hear Matron make a throat clearing sound behind me. I turn to look and the Matron makes a V with the fingers of her empty hand, holds it to her lips, and wags her tongue through the gap. I blush and look pointedly away as I follow my guide.

“I’m sorry,” Aceaia says gently, “Matron is a bit of a sadist.”

I blow out a deep breath and make my hands relax, “Lead on.”

Aceaia takes me down a corridor with recessed red lights, smooth metal wall panels, and thick sound muffling carpet. As we walk I study the back of the slender woman and see a skinny flat bum above thin legs. My guide is pretty, but nowhere near as sexually boosted as the other Sexbox women. I’m finding it hard to imagine she’s a sex worker. Maybe she works in Sexual Human Resources or something? “What do you do here?”

“Hmm?” Aceaia glances back at me, her huge eyes looking through me. “Oh,” She giggles. “I guess I don’t look much like the other girls do I?”

“Not really?”

“I’m a sex worker.” Aceaia smiles serenely, “I have a Knack.”


“I possess one of the Ancient Talents.” She gestures at my face, “Clearly you’re familiar with Shaping.”

I blush, “This wasn’t… but yes, I know Shaping.”

Aceaia nods, “I’m an Empath. I can sense the emotions and desires of other people, and a little of their mind.”

“Oh, that must be useful in… this business.”

Aceaia giggles, “It’s certainly fun with a lover, but I seldomly actually have sex with clients. I’m more like a naughty therapist, or a sexual explorer that helps repressed clients unlock their true desires. I help them find what they want and empower them to act on it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, a favourite example was this sweet little man who had a secret balloon fetish. When I uncovered it he was so adorably embarrassed, but I worked with him to move past his shame and to embrace his kink. His fetish was so harmless and cute, and I think I helped him realize that.”

“That’s really sweet.”

Aceaia bites her lip and smiles impishly, “I also played balloon games with him. I printed out colourful balloons, blew them up as full as I could, then made a big pantomime about being afraid of them popping. Then…” She mimes holding up a balloon in one hand and makes a lance with the fingers of her other. Then she thrusts her finger into the space occupied by her imaginary balloon, “Pop! And I’d do a little shriek and the client would be sitting there masturbating his little heart out.”

I smile with my eyes, “That sounds really silly! How did you stay in the moment and not just giggle?”

Aceaia blushes, “Part of the Empathy Knack is I experience my client's desire, so I end up really getting off on their kink. I love helping people, but experiencing the sexual thrill of others is a big part of why I enjoy my work.” She smiles playfully and shrugs, “I’m basically the galaxy's greatest Service Dom: I can sense what the client wants and I literally climax from fulfilling their desires.”

“So you’ve tried a lot of wild things?”

“Oh yes! I’ll try just about anything once for a client. Well, except for pain and humiliation play. There’s nothing wrong with that, but I get psychic feedback from the pain which is a big turnoff for me.” She nods at a woman dressed in a black latex swimsuit and rubber belts covered in sharp metal spikes. Her face is mostly hidden by a black hood and she’s carrying a paddle flecked with blood. “There’s no shortage of doms here, so I just connect masochistic clients with someone happy to hurt them. Consensually.”

“I see,” I stare at the latex clad dom. She catches me looking and smiles thinly with her blood red lips. She tilts her head and poses a little, as if asking if I want to come play with her. I feel my face blush and pussy warm a little, it’s not a completely unattractive offer although I could live without the bloody paddle. I shake my head and hurry after Aceaia. The dom moues thoughtfully before continuing on her way.

Aceaia stops and opens a wall panel, which is some sort of hidden doorway, and beckons me into another hallway. Where the previous corridor was atmospheric and polished, this new hallway has the rough improvisational construction of Flotsam. Bare lightbulbs hang from the ceiling and the walls are made from colour speckled cinder blocks of compressed plastic. We pass an open public room inhabited by off-duty sex workers and I take a peek. I spot a tall slender woman with absolutely enormous yard-long feet, curled up in a chair painting her expansive toenails. A pair of identical twins play a board game that looks a lot like chess, apparently oblivious to their nudity. A person who looks like a living sex doll with a big O-shaped mouth and pink rubber skin has their mechanical arm removed and appears to be cleaning out the joint socket. We’ve clearly moved from the public face to the truth behind the facade.  Aceaia turns right at a junction and leads us down a corridor lined with doors.

"So what can you read about me?" I ask.

"I don't have to read you." Aceaia turns briefly and her dark eyes are like gravity, "Your desires are written clearly across your face."

I blush and raise a hand to cover my mouthpussy while the Empath giggles. "This wasn't exactly voluntary..."

"But you like it." Aceaia stops in front of a closed door and knocks gently. "Besides, you aren't the first Halley I've met, so I already know something about your interests." She presses her ear against the door listening for something, then nods apparently in satisfaction. "Speaking of which, here we are." Aceaia works the mechanism and opens the door. "Voila!"

"Oh fuck me." Laying naked and hogtied on the cushioned floor is another me.

"Halley you have a visitor," Aceaia says brightly. The trussed up Halley wriggles pathetically and manages to scoot herself around so she can see me. Her arms and legs are tightly wrapped in bindings made of black latex and are pulled up behind her back so that she's almost totally helpless. Another black latex strap is thrust across her mouth forcing her jaw open and muffling her speech. Her violet eyes go wide in recognition and her nostrils flare in surprise. Her gagged mouth just continues to drool.

"Um, hi? I'm Halley-24." I wave a little, feeling self-conscious for both of us.

The strap gagging Halley unfurls organically, separating itself into two black latex tentacles rooted in the black latex collar coating Halley's neck and throat. Halley works her jaw like she's trying to get feeling back into it. "Hi," she says, while still hogtied. "I'm Halley-16."

"Can I maybe untie you? I have some questions to ask, and this is sort of awkward..."

"Says the version of me with a pussy on her face." Halley-16 chirps as two new tentacles sprout from the back of her collar, crisscross over her head, and grab onto the tentacles that were formerly her gag. The tentacles fuse together and pull tight, locking Halley's head in place.


"Anyway, I'm afraid there's not much either of us can do about my bindings." Halley-16 wiggles to find a more comfortable position. "My restraints have a mind of their own because, well, they have a mind of their own." She grimaces as her head is yanked back forcefully at an awkward angle. "By the way, meet Halley-9."

"What?" I can see entirely too much of precisely one Halley in this small bare room... "I don't know what you mean?"

"The Symbiote."

What the fuck!? "You mean your living bondage gear is..."

"Is one of us, yeah." Halley-16 winces as she tries to nod and the restraints on her head pull tighter. The restraints that are another version of me, which are growing out of yet another me. Fuck! "Halley-9 was the host of an alien lifeform and then they sort of merged. And then I became the new host of Halley-9." Halley-16 is breathing pretty hard and... is she turned on right now? Is she enjoying this?

"What the fuck!?"

Halley-16 smiles, "It's kind of a long story."

"What the actual fuck!"

"Oh calm down. I know it's weird, but again: you do have a pussy for a face."

That stops me for a moment, and my voice does the prosthetic equivalent of an open mouthed pause. I sigh, "It's also kind of a long story."

Aceaia clears her throat, "I believe that's my cue to depart."

"Wait, you're leaving?" I don't want to be left alone with these Halleys yet.

"Yes. I was only instructed to bring you here." Aceaia smiles impishly, "I stayed longer to see how you each reacted, which I must say was delightful." She giggles, and both me and Halley-16 blush. "It was a pleasure to meet you Halley, and Halley, just call if you need anything." The Empath nods to us and slips out through the door, closing it behind her.

"Let's chat," Halley-16 says. I see her arm and leg restraints have separated so that each limb is individually bound instead of hogtied together. Halley-16's arms are now wrapped so that her forearms are lashed tightly to her upper arms, and her legs are bent so that her calves are glued to the backs of her thighs. Halley-16 manages to lift herself onto her elbows and knees like a clumsy quadruped and crawls towards the corner of her room. As she crawls I notice the black latex Symbiote skin extends down her entire back and that a tentacle reaches down around the crack of her ass and along the cleft of her pussy. The Symbiote that is Halley-9, I remind myself with a shiver. Halley-16 reaches the corner and awkwardly props herself up in a sitting position where the walls meet. Her bound legs stick out below like partially amputated limbs and her shortened arms hang uselessly by her sides. Now that she's sitting up, I can see latex tentacles wrap all across her front like a harness that connects her collar to her spine and hips and crotch, squeezing and lifting her bare breasts. I can also clearly see the Symbiotic tentacle that is wedged deep into the cleavage of her labia links up with the rest of the harness. The whole thing looks like tentacle-style Shibari. "Have a seat," Halley-16 says with a little gasp.

I find a spot along the wall that I judge is out of tentacle molestation range and sink down to the floor. The walls and floor of the room are cushioned like a padded cell and the temperature is uncomfortably warm. I feel myself start to sweat a little and tug at the turtleneck collar of my tunic "Sorry I reacted badly. It's just... all of us Halleys sure seem to end up in weird kinky places."

The restraints on Halley's head release and she rolls out her neck. Halley-16 looks at me and smiles playfully, "Sometimes I feel like we're just the playthings of an especially perverse God."

"Can we not talk about gods..."

"Touchy subject?"

"Let's just say my pussymouth was an unwanted souvenir from a cult."

"Ouch, I'm sorry." Halley-16 winces, "I was hoping you were just trying out something weird."

"Nope, and no trial run either; I'm afraid this face is forever" I shake my head and sigh, "But I'm learning to live with it."

"I'd give you a hug, but y'know." Halley-16 lifts up her bound arms and shrugs. "I'll maybe let you skip your story and just tell you ours?"

I eye-smile and nod, "Thanks."

"I guess it makes sense to start with Halley-9. Have you met a lot of other versions of us?"

"Yeah, I think about half?"

Halley-16 nods, "Halley-9 first apparated right after a run of tragedies and Clem was pretty fucked up. Halley-6 and Halley-7 were both missing and Halley-8 had just died, so it wasn't a very happy time on Flotsam when Halley-9 was decanted." She shakes her head, "When I appeared it was terrifying, but I had Clementine and Hank to guide me through it. Halley-9 had nobody except maybe Pussy, so she was pretty much on her own." Halley-16 pauses to wriggle while the tentacle in her pussy shifts and tightens. "Anyway, Halley-9 got the fuck out of there pretty quickly, resolved to build a quiet life for herself, and avoid whatever crap had befallen her three predecessors. Unfortunately an oblivious new Earthling wasn't super employable, so Halley ended up taking a job at the Sexbox as a maid." Halley-16 quirks an eyebrow at me, "Do you think being a maid in a brothel makes you a sex worker?"


"Like, hypothetically. Is cleaning up the aftermath of sex work a kind of sex work?"

"I dunno," I frown and pucker my labia together thoughtfully. "How racy is the outfit?"

"A little slutty, but not like a fetish costume."

"And this maid isn't playing like, a sexy game of cleanup with a french accent?"

"Mais non. Just hosing cum out of dungeons and playrooms after the magic happens."

"Then no? If she isn't having sex with clients or otherwise directly involved in the business of orgasms, then I don't think she is."

"Okay, but this maid is employed by a brothel and is integral to the business. So she's at least involved in the sex industry. So maybe a sex worker, right?"

"By that logic everyone employed by a brothel in any capacity is a sex worker. The kitchen staff, the cleaners, the accountant..."

"Exactly! Accounting is sex work!"

I laugh a little and shake my head, "Okay, but what's the point?"

"Nothing!" Halley-16 giggles, "Sorry, it's just something I think about sometimes. I have a lot of time on my bound hands..."

I smile with my eyes, "Apparently."

"So Halley-9 was working as a maid in the Sexbox and well, she couldn’t help but notice all of the kinky sex going on. She wanted to keep things professional, stay out of trouble, save some money, eventually find a more vanilla job, but…. you know what we like.”

I know exactly what she means, even if she wasn’t trussed up like a horny turkey. I’ve always enjoyed letting others take the initiative in the bedroom, of giving myself over to fulfilling their desires, whether out of nervousness or a drive to please. But deep down it’s more than that: I like feeling helpless and powerless, find it thrilling in a way that never really makes rational sense. Maybe it has to do with all the random chaos in my life, that submitting myself to someone else’s control feels like embracing a lack of power on my own terms. Or maybe I’m just a pervert. My mind flashes back to the one or two really good sessions I had with a dominant partner in college; angry beautiful Beth making me beg before she let me eat her out. And to all the times that Clem gamely tied me up; too gentle to really dominate me, but doing his best, and how fun it was even if it wasn’t quite perfect. I nod, if sexual power dynamics were a binary I was definitely a sub.

Halley-16 smiles, “It was kind of a kid in the candy store situation, so it was only a matter of time before Halley embraced her sweet tooth. She started to play with some of the doms she was friends with: bondage, humiliation, petplay, the works. The doms pushed her boundaries and she embraced it, I think because this was the one aspect of her life that Halley-9 felt she controlled.” Halley-16 pauses as the bindings on her arms and legs unpeel, freeing her limbs. She stretches out her arms and legs and sighs, working her hands and wrists. Her freedom is short lived, since the black Symbiote-stuff coating her forearms latches onto itself, gluing her forearms together in front of her, while the black latex on her lower legs do the same, fusing her shins. Black fluid oozes out of her wrists and flows over her hands like mittens, hobbling her fingers. Halley-16 smiles wryly, “Gotta change positions, otherwise things start to cramp up.”

“Honestly, I have no idea how you can hold any of these positions…”

“Practice, so much practice,” Halley says sweetly. “I could start teaching you, if you wanted.”

I blush and feel butterflies in my stomach and face. Why is this turning me on? Just say no. “Maybe later?” Slut.

Halley bites her lip hard enough to leave a mark, “I know what we like.”

“So Halley-9 was being a sub…” Excellent segue.

“Right, but she was still a maid, and the reality was that being a maid sucked. Sure she had her playtime, but she still had to hose cum out of dungeons and playrooms, and the pay for doing that was pretty bad. Especially compared to what the sex workers were making. So Halley-9 thought, what if I became a professional submissive? Surely there were doms out there looking to rent a playmate? She already worked in a brothel and played with sex workers, what was one more step down the path? So she went to Matron and asked if she could start selling her submissive services. Matron was fine with it as long as Halley kept doing the maid work, and so Halley-9 joined the sex industry. Except... Well, the thing about subs is there are a lot more of us than there are good doms. Halley managed to find a little work with clumsy beginners, but nowhere near enough to quit her day job."

"The market wasn't there."

"Exactly! But Halley-9 was invested in the plan, so she bit the bullet and went to Clementine for a makeover to step up her sex appeal. She did the usual things, had her breasts enlarged and her body toned and her face beautified, but she felt she needed more. For whatever reason she thought about Pony Play and just how weird and sexy Ponygirls were, and decided that maybe that could be her angle. So she had Clem make her feet into hooves and give her a horsey tail and ears. Then Halley went back to work as a sub, doing the usual stuff, but also Pony Play things like pull a cart around and prance." Halley-16 smiles, "That helped a bit, she definitely found a few regular clients and was having fun with her new body, but she still wasn't making enough to quit the maid business."

"So the Pony Play plan didn’t work out?”

Halley-16 shakes her head, "Nope. The problem was that the real Sexbox money was in being a dominatrix. Halley-9 needed to cross the BDSM aisle if she ever hoped to make a living. Halley decided she could maybe learn to be a dom, treat it like a work task and fake her way through it. Approach tying someone up and humiliating them like scrubbing a particularly difficult stain. How hard could it be?” Halley-16 wets her lips, “She embarked on a crash course in domineering: bugged her dom friends for lessons in technique and their advice, took notes on what was demanded of her when she subbed, audited some sessions as a trussed up observer to watch the entire scenario play out. When she felt she was ready, she tried to run a few sessions with volunteers."

I thought back to my own extremely embarrassing attempts to dominate Clem when he wanted to try being a bottom. I winced, "It didn't go well, did it?"

"Not at all! Halley-9 was absolutely dogshit at being a dom! She might have learned her knots, proper paddle technique, and some useful words and phrases, but once she was in the room with a sub she was just too timid to really command anyone. She was hopeless! Halley-9 knew she was never going to cut it as a dom. Which is where the Symbiote came into things..." The harness on Halley-16's chest sprouts new tentacles, latches onto her bound arms, and yanks them up in front of her like she’s praying. Halley-16 cranes her neck a little to rest her chin on her Symbiote-clasped hands. "A thing about Matron is that she collects strange kinky things. She collects people here at the Sexbox, but she also loves objects and artifacts and really anything that piques her curiosity. So when a Deep Space trader presented her with a Symbiotic alien lifeform that feeds on Orgone sexual life energy, she just had to add it to her collection. But the thing about a Symbiote is that it needs a host, otherwise it's just an inert black puddle, which isn't at all what Matron paid for. So when Halley-9 absolutely failed as a dominatrix, Matron saw an opportunity to solve two problems at once: she suggested Halley-9 become the Symbiote’s host. That way Halley-9 would feel the sexual, predatory hunger of the Symbiote and could harness that to dominate her clients. She in turn would still satisfy her submissive urges, because she'd be subjugating herself to the Symbiote’s appetites. A mutually beneficial sexual relationship, Matron had called it. Was it dangerous? Probably. But as long as Halley-9 kept the Symbiote fed with Orogone, it should be fine."

“And Matron would get to test out her toy,” I think of that terrifying old woman with the futuristic war hammer and shiver. "That sounds like a really bad offer..."

Halley-16 taps her chin on her bound hands in an abbreviated nod. "Halley-9 knew it too. But she was also really tired of hosing cum out of dungeons and playrooms and being broke. This was obviously a huge risk, but if it meant she could finally dominate clients, then it would be worth it. So she worked herself up to it and went back to Matron." Another new black tentacle squirms out from Halley-16's crotch and wraps around her bound ankles, pulls her feet back against her ass, and presses Halley's knees into her elbows. New Symbiotic ropes quickly bind her thighs and upper arms together so she's stuck elbow to knee. Halley-16 gasps and starts to tip over, so I reach out and push her back upright. "Thanks," she says, blushing.

"Of course," I say, blushing back.

"Anyway," Halley says, "the fateful day came and Halley-9 merged with the Symbiote. Matron brought her to the vault filled with her collection of kinky oddities and showed her the large glass tank that contained the Dormant Symbiote. Matron was giddy, almost dancing in her excitement, and Halley was nervous as fuck, worried she was about to make a huge mistake. Matron removed the heavy glass lid of the tank and instructed Halley to strip naked. Halley took off her clothes slowly with shaking hands, eyes locked on that inky fluid mass, her mind racing through the pros and cons, the risks and rewards, her doubts. Matron seized Halley by her bare shoulders, gripped them tightly, and told her sternly to get in the tank.” Halley-16 smiles thinly, “And that was the push she needed. Halley-9 nodded, took a deep calming breath, and with a boost up from Matron, she climbed into the Symbiote tank as if it were a large bathtub. For an uncertain moment Halley-9 floated in the black liquid, but then the Symbiote became alive and dragged her under, submersing her within itself. She was blind and helpless and it felt like she was about to drown, so she panicked and fought, but the liquid was suddenly strong and constrictive, overpowering her. As the air escaped her lungs, Halley-9 felt the Symbiote adhere to her, flow into her pores and openings, root there, coat her completely inside and out, in her mouth and bowls and lungs and pussy. She felt them merging. And then Halley-9 felt a presence in her mind, an inhuman intellect that was starving and something predatory like horny.”

Halley-16 pauses and wets her lips, “Halley-9 opened her eyes to find herself laying in the bottom of the empty tank. She raised a hand and saw it was completely coated in what looked like black latex. She stood on black shiny hooves and climbed unsteadily out of the tank, was led to an old fashioned gilded mirror, and saw herself. Standing in the reflection was a beautiful curvaceous ponygirl coated in the shiny black skin of the Symbiote: black hooves, powerful long legs, wide hips and large weightless breasts, a harshly gorgeous face, equine ears, a black tail and mane, all totally encased in what looked like polished black latex. Halley-9 touched herself, felt the slick sensation of her Symbiote coated hands slide along the too smooth new skin of her thighs and breasts. She shivered and gasped and felt the new mental presence in her mind drink in her sexual thrill. Halley closed her eyes, slid her hand down along her belly, and gently touched her pussy. She gasped and her tail twitched and the Symbiote writhed in her mind, delighted and greedy for more. Panting, Halley obliged it, black fingers plunging into her slick black latex pussy, stroking herself, stroking them, while her other black hand kneaded her heavy black latex breasts, desperate to feed the beast that had become part of her. Matron just smiled and laughed, delighted her plan had worked."

I look at the black tentacles Halley-9 has become and frown, "It looks like the plan didn't work out so well for Halley."

"Actually it did, at least for a while. Halley-9 found the Symbiote really did hunger for the sexual ecstasy of Submisives, and through her connection with it, she found she hungered for it too. Maybe more importantly she could sense the Orgone of her clients, could intuit what they enjoyed, and then got a big hit of positive reinforcement when she delivered their masochistic desires.” Halley-16 smiles lovingly, “She got really, really good at being a dominatrix. And she learned to love it too; whether by all the reward training or by a gradual mental merging with the Symbiote, Halley-9 sexually changed from a sub to a dom.”

“So Halley-9 became an amazing black latex ponygirl dominatrix.”

“Exactly, one of the best in the business and wildly successful!”

“But it didn’t last?”

“No.” Halley-16 shrugs as much as her restrained body allows, “But it did work for 7 Halleys.”

“What? Did you just use us as a unit of time?”

Halley-16 grins, “Do you like it? I was thinking and decided that ‘The Halley’, the time between clone generations, was the most meaningful way for us to measure our lives.”

I blink, that’s preposterous but it does have a certain logic to it. “You aren’t wrong…” I sigh, “Our life is so weird.”

“Isn’t it!?” Halley-16 says brightly with a big smile, her arms and legs bound awkwardly against her.

“So what went wrong? With Halley-9, I mean.”

“Actually this is where I enter the story.” Halley-16 smiles impishly and wiggles, “I existed for this part.”

Halley’s wiggle threatens to turn into another tip over, so I reach out to steady my trussed up clone, but then thinking better of it, I scooch over and loop an arm over Halley-16’s shoulder and let her rest against me. “Is this better?” I ask with a blush.

“Much better,” Halley nuzzles into me and smiles, blushing herself. “I appeared in Clem’s apartment and saw Pussy, freaked out and fainted, woke up to meet Clementine, freaked out and fainted again, and then was bundled off to be debriefed by Hank. Which is where I stayed until Freya sent me to meet Halley-15 as part of my journey into personhood or whatever.” Halley-16 looks at me sideways, “Have you met Halley-15 yet?”

I do some mental counting and, “No, not yet. Why?” Oh Jesus, what has she done to herself?

Halley giggles, “Let’s just say Halley-15 has some *strong* opinions…”


“Well, everything as far as I can tell, but when we met it was mostly about Clem and Hank and how she thought they were both toxic dirtbags.” Halley rolls her eyes, “I get the sense that she maybe made some sexy mistakes with them.”

I nod, “That’ll happen…”

“Ohmygosh! Clem!?”

“God I wish! Hank…”

“That dog!” Halley giggles, “Was it good!?”

“The sex was great, but overall I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Sorry.” Halley snuggles up to me and I get the sense it’s her tied up version of a hug. “As much as Halley-15 sounded jilted, it did make me reevaluate spending time around Clem and Hank until I figured myself out a bit. I needed space to learn who I was, y’know? I crashed with a friend of Freya’s and did odd jobs and just kind of wandered around Flotsam trying to take it all in. At some point I decided to meet all the Halleys I could find; kind of an exercise in alternate-self discovery.”

I squirm a little and look away, “Some real cautionary tales in there…”

She smiles impishly, “I didn’t get that far. I ended up visiting Halley-9 almost right away and well, something just clicked for me.” Haley-16 lifts her head off her forcibly clasped hands and rests it against my shoulder. “I remember walking up to the Sexbox for the first time, seeing the big black cube, and being afraid of it. I couldn’t believe that one of my clones lived and worked inside. Which was a feeling that only grew when I came inside and saw all the sex workers,” Halley-16 laughs. “Then the Madam saw me with my simple printed clothes and my bewildered eyes and judged that I didn’t belong. She demanded that I explain myself, and I just stammered, awkward under her harsh gaze, twisting my shirt in my hands, and was almost ready to flee when Matron strutted in with that big hammer of hers. She instantly recognized me, smiled that lascivious smile, and asked if I was here to see Halley. I nodded, blushing and too flustered to speak. Matron licked her lips, told me Halley-9 was with a client, but that I could wait in her quarters. Then she told me she had a job opening for a new maid.”

“She really doesn’t waste time, does she?”

“Nope,” Halley says with a little grin. “I was led to Halley-9’s quarters to wait for her. I was stunned, Halley’s room was super fancy. Picture a huge four poster with built in bondage restraints, plush lounges, a mini-bar, purple velvet draped everywhere, and sex toys and whips and restraints scattered all around the room. It was the fanciest bedroom I’d ever been in, and by far the kinkiest. I couldn’t imagine how a version of me could live in such depraved luxury. I was still homeless and couch surfing, remember.” Halley’s hair is cut into a short chin length bob, but it’s fallen onto her face, so I brush it aside and tuck it behind her ear. She leans against me and sighs happily, and I’m aware of how warm her nude body is in my arms. “Halley-9 was really very successful, and because the Sexbox has such generous terms, she was actually quite wealthy. Matron is a perverse monster, but she takes good care of her playthings.”

I look around the bare, padded cell Halley-16 lives in and frown skeptically, “And yet you live here…”

Halley-16 giggles, “What do you mean? I love my quarters! I had them customized just for me. When you spend all day in distress, what’s the point of having furniture? It just gets in the way, either something you can’t use or something to fall off. A padded room is way more practical: no matter where you’re tied up and how awkwardly you’re bound, you’ve got something soft to lay on. And since I’m naked all the time, I have the temperature cranked up enough to be comfortable.” She smiles up at me, “Plus it fits my whole nude bondage lifestyle aesthetic, don’t you think?”

I smile back at her, cheeks tugging on my labia, and fondly jostle her a bit, “You’re amazing.”

“I didn’t have to wait long before Halley-16 walked in,” Hayley says quickly while blushing. “I can still remember the first time I saw her: the way the light reflected off her polished black skin, the clop of her hooves on the smooth concrete floor, the weighty bounce of her perfect breasts, and the swish of her tail.” Hayley bites her lip, “The way her eyes seem to look right through me, calculating. I remember sitting up taller, putting my hands in my lap, arching my back, aware of how drab I looked in comparison. She walked across the room slowly, one elegant prancing step after another, arms folded behind her back, hips swaying. My eyes drank in the commanding unhurried way she moved, like I was waiting on her convenience. I glanced away to see dildos and paddles and chains. My mouth went dry and I felt butterflies in my stomach. She sat across from me with perfect posture, rested the riding crop she’d been carrying casually across her thighs.” Halley blushes, “I know this is going to sound fucked up since she was my clone and all, but I was so turned on. My heart was pounding and my pussy was wet. I didn’t know what I wanted exactly, but I wanted it so badly.”

“Let the Halley whose never fucked her clone before cast the first stone…”

Haley-16 snorted a laugh and shakes her head. “The thing was Halley-9 could tell how aroused I was, could sense the burning Orgone in me through the Symbiote. She knew I wanted her, or at least what she represented. But instead of striking me with her crop and tying me to her bed frame, she introduced herself. She told me about herself, about the Sexbox, about the improbable turns of her life. We didn’t fuck that first day, even if we both knew I wanted to.”

Hayley-16 wets her lips and wiggles a bit against her restraints. “Matron caught me again as I was leaving. I was still so turned on, desperate to find somewhere private, yank down my shabby pants and underwear, and fuck my own brains out. I stammered, blushed, tried to run away, but Matron could almost taste the arousal coming off me, saw that whatever was kinked in Halley-9 was also kinked in me, and knew she'd found another toy for her collection. And so she repeated her offer: that I should come work as a maid in the Sexbox." Hayley-16 swallowed, "Despite Halley-15’s warnings to avoid all Halley-related drama, despite knowing that Matron was untrustworthy, despite sensing that the Sexbox might be dangerous, I said yes. I was lonely and bored and tired of couch surfing in a nice stranger’s home. A job hosing cum out of dungeons and play rooms was a real honest job, and one that came with quarters to live in. It wasn't perfect, but it could be a start." Halley-16 grins, "And fuck it, I was horny and the Sexbox was exhilirating! I wasn't sure I'd ever actually want to fuck my own clone, but I knew I wanted to explore this place, to try and find someone to play with. It was the kid in the candy store all over again. So yeah, I totally took the job."

"And I'm guessing it didn't take long for you to take advantage of it."

"Nope!" Halley-16 giggles, "And it was with Halley-9 too. It was just too obvious that there was something there. She was a sexy, powerful dominatrix and we both knew I was a total slut for submission. The fact we were clones just made the whole thing more transgressive and dirty and exciting. I just wanted her so badly, and she and the Symbiote literally hungered for the Orgone of my desire. We didn't stand a chance."

"How was it?"

"Everything I hoped it would be," Halley says, making deliberate eye contact with me. "The first time we fucked, she chained me to her bed using some sort of high tech safety restraint. I lay spread-eagle on her huge mattress, trembling, as she paced thoughtfully around the room, her hooves clopping as she decided what to do with me. Halley-9 fetched a cart from somewhere, something between a torturer's tool box and a medical cart, and brought it next to the bed. I heard her rattle around with it, make thoughtful noises, and I tried to crane my body to see what she was doing, but found she was stubbornly out of sight. Eventually she slowly clopped around the bed until I could see her looming over me. She smiled down at me hungrily and quietly asked if I was ready to play. I gasped and nodded, and she went to work.” Halley-16 swallows hard, “She teased me for what felt like hours. She stroked me, pinched me, and poked me with something that felt very hot and something that felt frigidly cold. She hurt me carefully. She applied tools and toys, crude and futuristic, and drove me to the shaking whining humping edge of orgasm, but never let me tumble over to completion. She left my mouth ungagged so we could both hear me gasp and moan and beg and plead. After what seemed like forever she climbed up on top of me, straddled my face with her slick thighs, and pressed the shiny black pungent wet folds of her labia to my lips. Halley demanded that I pleasure my Mistress. And I did so desperately, furiously, too eager to make my Mistress happy so that she might finally let me cum." Halley is starting to pant a little and wiggle, "I made her come so hard, her ponygirl thighs crushing my head, her equine tail lashing my breasts and stomach, her mouth letting out an unexpected whinny. I was so excited! I was finally going to get my turn! But then she climbed off of me and trotted out of the room to see a client, leaving me tied up there on the bed, face wet with her sex, heart hammering, and pussy pounding with need. I gasped, tried to writhe, tried to rub my legs together, tried to do anything to get myself off, but my bonds were too tight. Never tight enough to hurt me, they were too high-tech smart for that, but never loose enough that I could touch myself either. Which just made me hornier: being all worked up and helpless like that, totally at her mercy, was just so fucking hot! My body felt like it was on fire! I need to come so fucking bad!" Halley-16 gasped, "And the feeling didn't go away. The longer I lay there, the longer it went on, simmering, throbbing, grinding. I have no idea how long I waited there in frustrated sexual purgatory, but eventually Halley-9 came back. She casually released my restraints and I curled into a ball, hands immediately flying to my cunt, fucking myself until I orgasmed again and again and again, a chain reaction of built up need expending itself." Halley-16 takes a deep breath that makes her body shudder, "When I came back to myself she was standing over me watching, one of her hands gently rubbing her cunt. She looked at me with a smirk and told me next time I wasn't allowed to touch myself without permission. I shivered and said, Yes Mistress."

I can feel my heart beating faster too, and warm tingles in my stomach and face. “That… does sound pretty fun.”

“That was just the first time! And with a first time like that, I was obviously going back for more.” Halley-16 waggled her eyebrows. “I quickly fell into a rhythm of hosing cum out of dungeons and playrooms in the early morning... which I gotta say, being a maid in a brothel is way more work than you'd think. Matron has exacting standards on just how clean she wants the Sexbox to be, and sapients release so many fluids during sex. Even with futuristic cleaning supplies, it was a real hassle trying to keep everything clean enough. I mean, some of the more exotic rooms in this place are kept as sterile as an operating theatre,” Halley shakes her head. “But anyway, I'd do my maid work in the morning, and play with Halley in the afternoon before she became busy with her Clients. I was kind of her Orgone lunchtime snack." Halley squirms a little against her Symbiote restraints, maybe uncomfortable with how long she's been stuck in this pose. "The thing about having a really good Mistress is that it's a bit like a drug; it gets addicting and you find yourself needing bigger doses more often. It wasn't long until I was spending every free moment being Halley's sex slave. She was always hungry and I was always eager to give her what she needed, always willing to try something new." Halley-16 smiles and bites her lip, "We tried so many things together, explored the depths of our erotic imaginations, pushed the envelope! It was wild! And it wasn't just sex; Halley and I became, well, complicated. She was my Mistress and my lover and also something like a big sister. I’m not sure it was romantic exactly, but we were definitely more than just friends with kinky benefits." Halley shrugs her shoulders as much as she can, "Whatever we were, I loved her. Love her still."

Which I guess brings us to the big question: "So what went wrong?"

"The thing about parasites is they eventually eat their hosts." Halley-16 shakes her head, "At first Halley-9 was able to keep the Symbiote sated, between her clients and her own sexual energy she could meet the modest needs of the newly roused alien. But as time went by the Symbiote grew hungrier; the more Orgone she fed it, the more the creature desired. Halley had to dominate more Clients and perform kinkier sex acts to generate the energy the Symbiote demanded. And then as she merged more completely with the Symbiote, she stopped being a source of Orgone for it, her sexual energy just became part of its own reserves, it's appetites  inseparable from her own. Suddenly she experienced just how hungry the Symbiote was, just how hungry she was. She became more aggressive and demanding, started to push herself and her Submissives even further. But it was never enough." Halley-16 sighs, "The Symbiote is a creature of pure appetite. It's endless, enduring, inescapable. Eventually it will devour everything. Halley-9 wasn't the first person to merge with the Symbiote, or even its first dominatrix host. And she wasn't fated to be the last host either..."

"What happened?"

"The Symbiote merged with her completely."

"Jesus Christ."

"It started slowly, too slowly to notice. Halley-9 and the Symbiote were already permanently fused, but the borders between them were breaking down. At first the Symbiote was mostly just an inky black skin, but gradually the creature began to replace more of her, consume her human parts into itself and replace them. The hungrier the Symbiote became, the faster the process went, until it became obvious that something was wrong. When Halley-9 slept, she found parts of herself would lose their rigidity, become soft and rubbery, and deform in the night. At first it was a symptom, a curiosity of her new form, but it got steadily worse and became a hindrance. By the time I entered the picture, parts of Halley-9 would melt completely when she rested, her limbs dissolving into the tarry black liquid of the Symbiote. She had to sleep in a tank to contain herself, and every morning I'd have to climb in with her and sit on her face or masturbate just to give her the Orgone energy to pull herself back together. It was obvious she was losing the battle with the Symbiote."

"Was there no way to help?"

Halley-16 shakes her head, "This was always how it was going to end, it was only ever a question of how long it would take. The Symbiote always eventually merges with its host and returns to its dormant liquid state, everything else is just delaying the inevitable. I guess we could have lined up a horde of Clients, sent Halley-9 on a sexual marathon of perversion, and maybe bought some more time. But Halley was also losing control, her desperate hunger for Orgone was clouding her judgement and making her far too aggressive to be a good dom. It wasn't about serving the Client's desires, it was about feeding her own insatiable appetites, which, well, some sapients like that, but eventually Halley had trouble respecting Safewords, and that was unacceptable. The Sexbox operates by Rules, and Matron could not allow one of her doms to violate the most fundamental rule of all. Matron benched Halley-9, forbade her from seeing Clients, and regretfully sealed her fate. I did everything I could, tried to be a strong enough sex slave to feed the Symbiote myself, but well, the inevitable..." Halley-16 takes a big deep, calming breath, and lets it out slowly. "One morning I woke up to find Halley-16 had fully dissolved into the Symbiote. The merging process was complete."

"Fuck, I'm so sorry." I give Halley-16 a big hug which she gratefully nuzzles into.

"It wasn't really the end though," Halley says after a minute. "She didn't really die. The Symbiote imprints itself on the mind of its hosts; everyone who has ever merged with the Symbiote lives on inside it. Halley-9 is still alive, just as part of the Symbiote." Halley licks her lips, "When the Symbiote fully merged with Halley's body, it also merged with her mind, and with the way imprinting works, Halley's mind became the dominant consciousness of the now hostless Symbiote. In some ways the Symbiote was mostly Halley-9 in a weird new body."

"That's good..." I say.

Halley laughs a little ruefully, "But what the hell compelled me to become the new host? Well, the other thing about the way imprinting works, is that it fades over time. The Symbiote isn't like a parasitic computer, it's just a hungry alien. It wasn't actually designed to store information. A freshly merged host mind will be almost completely intact, but over time the minds inside the Symbiote dissolve and merge into a gestalt, a process that only goes faster when the Symbiote is left dormant and unfed. Which meant that Halley-9 was alive in there, but if we left the Symbiote to languish without a host, her mind would fade away, becoming just another murmur in the chorus. To save her consciousness we needed to quickly find the Symbiote a new host, one who could keep the Symbiote fed and energized to preserve Halley-9."

"So Matron talked you into becoming the new Host?"

"No, she tried to stop me. Told me she'd been wrong with Halley-9, that the Symbiote was too dangerous, that she didn't want to be responsible for both our fates." Halley-16 smiled, "But I was in love and cared too much about Halley not to do everything I could to save her. And so I climbed into the tank. Climbed into her."

Halley-16 shivers, "How can I describe it? It was a little like slipping into a warm bath, except the Symbiote didn’t feel like water; it was too thick, too resistant. It wasn’t sticky though, wasn’t like tar or latex, it was more like flesh made out of a viscous fluid that flowed around me like a whole body warm embrace. I felt myself sink into it, or maybe felt it envelope me, my legs, my hips, my stomach and chest and arms and shoulders and head until only my face broke the inky black surface. It felt like being embedded in wax that wasn’t quite solid yet. I floated there, aware that this time the Symbiote, that Halley, was waiting for me to make up my mind. I took a deep, calming breath, aware that I was balanced on a knife edge, and that once I dunked myself under there would be no going back. My lips trembled and I felt that barely caged anxiety that’s always there threaten to break free and make me panic, make me run away back to a trailer park on another world.” Halley-16 makes eye contact with me and nods, “We Halleys spent so much of our time on Earth trapped by worrying about what could happen that we never really dared to do anything important. My time with Halley-9, the sexual scenarios we explored, taught me that I could find the limits of my fear and push past them, that I could find transcendence if I were just brave enough not to forfeit. What was the moment in the tank but a continuation of that? A much higher stakes version of our sex games, one where my submission could be deadly, but the price of not consenting would be the death of my Mistress, my Halley. And faced with that, how could I say no?” Halley-16 smiles beautifully past her bound praying hands, like a kinky angel. “I took one more breath, closed my eyes, and sank beneath the surface. I felt the Symbiote, felt Halley, flex and contract around me, smother me. I felt her push into my skin and body like… you know that feeling when you peel a bandaid off? The tug and prickle of adhesive? It was like the exact opposite of that, like shards of glue anchoring into me. Or maybe it was like getting a tattoo made of water, but without the sharp buzz of pain. The sensation was strongest on my arms and legs and along my back, running from my tail bone, up along my spine and neck, to the back of my skull. I gasped and breathed in Halley, felt some of her flow into my lungs, adhere to my insides. It felt like drowning. Despite everything I felt myself start to panic, some animal part of me afraid of a wet grave. I started to thrash and fight to free myself, to get my head above the surface, but instead found myself laying naked at the bottom of the empty tank. I was gasping, heaving like a fish in a boat. I sat up, feeling oddly the same as when I went under. I held up my hands, and saw my pale skin and pink palms. I frowned, I’d expected to be encased in Halley, and I wondered if it hadn’t worked, if maybe Halley had rejected me? But then I saw my wrists were coated in what looked like polished black latex, what looked like the Symbiote. I held up one of my arms and studied it closely, looked into the shiny black surface and saw that it moved, rippled like it was alive. I cautiously touched my wrist with a bare finger and watched Halley flow over it, grasp it weakly, and tug. And then I felt Halley’s mind touch me wordlessly, because I don’t think she has language anymore, but I sensed her recognize me, felt her love and adoration wash over me. I smiled and laughed, tears in my eyes, it had worked! I had rescued my Mistress! I was elated and giddy, but then all at once I felt Halley’s hunger and desire, and the predatory demands of the Symbiote we were both bonded to. It was pure appetite, endless and enduring and inescapable. I gasped in awe of it, suddenly afraid of what I’d gotten myself into. But then I felt Halley again, felt her cool calm determination, felt her demand my obedience in sating her, and just like a hundred times before Halley’s command let me push past my fear to find the other side. I knew what I needed to do.”

“My Mistress needed me to satisfy her, my Inescapable Mistress who was forever bound to me. I was permanently her servant, her slave, forever shackled to her hunger. I felt waves of excitement ripple through my body, my mouth went dry and my breath caught in my throat, my heart started to pound in my chest. My Mistress was hungry and she demanded that I feed her. I lay on my back in the tank, brought my hands to my tits, cupped them, squeezed them, pinched my nipples between my fingers, and moaned. I felt Halley writhe in my mind like a fish chasing a snack, but could tell she wanted more. I bit my lip, grabbed my hard nipples and twisted them, gasping in shock at the pain while Halley thrilled at the burst of sensation. More she seemed to demand, so I did it again and again, whimpering at the wonderfully exciting pain of it. Halley tingled like an orgasm in my mind, pleased but hungry for more. I shuddered, panting, pussy hot and tight and wet, the feeling of Halley commanding me from inside my own mind was thrilling. I slid my hands off my breasts and slowly, teasingly walked them down my belly, and I felt Halley and myself both tense in anticipation. I bit my lip and finally let my fingers draw across my labia, so wet and ready. Halley demanded more immediately, so I pinched my clit, moaning at the sensation. I drew my legs up a bit, feet on the bottom of the tank for better leverage, and then I felt strange movement on my calves. I looked down in shock to see the black skin on my legs sprout fluid tentacles, pseudopods that snaked out and fused, that linked my legs together and tightened, yanking my legs and binding them together. I yelped in surprise and delight, struggled against the constriction, thrilled at this unexpected twist. I rubbed my cunt faster, slipped fingers inside, massaged my clit, fucked myself frantically. I was so close to an orgasm! I was so turned on! I needed to come! But then I felt the Symbiote flesh of my wrists sprout their own tentacles, felt pseudopods flow out of my back, I felt them grasp and tug. No, I begged, no… but Halley had another plan. I felt my hands dragged away from my pussy, pulled by Halley with surprising liquid strength. I fought it, moaning and cursing, wriggling as much as I could. I wanted to come so fucking bad! But my arms were drawn behind my back, bound there, glued in place. I was electric with sexual need, desperate for an orgasm, and so fucking turned on by how helpless I was to come! I was a bonfire of Orgone, and Halley drank it up, mad with her own desire, thrashing through her new form of orgasm. Which just made me hornier, feeling her release but denied my own. I whined and pleaded and begged, but Halley was relentless, made me wait and wait and wait until finally she released me and gave me permission to touch myself. I went back to fucking myself and just like that first time, the dam broke and a cascade of orgasms ripped through me until I was left shakey and boneless and breathless in the empty tank.”

(Continues below)


Re: Flotsam

(Chapter 21 continued)

Halley-16’s face is flushed and she’s writhing her hips, I think trying to grind her pussy against the band of Symbiote wedged in her labia. I think I can smell her arousal, but maybe it’s just me. I reach up and try to subtly wipe juices from my chin. “That sounds intense.”

Halley closes her eyes and nods, squirms. “It was. It’s all been so intense.” She takes a ragged, deep breath; makes the face I make when I’m trying for self control. “Matron eventually helped me out of the tank, beaming happy and delighted that we’d saved one of her favourite toys. We looked me over, studied the black Symbiote flesh on my back and limbs, and realized that the Symbiote had only partially merged with me, that Halley had held it back somehow. The Symbiote was rooted to my body, we were permanently bonded, but it was more like we were conjoined than fused.” Halley-16 frowns thoughtfully, “I’ll never know for sure, but I think we reached a new kind of equilibrium. The Symbiote itself, the original alien, is still pure sexual hunger, but Halley’s consciousness is still dominant enough that she can temper it, resist the Symbiotes desire to consume me. As long as Halley-9 can maintain her self control, and as long as I can keep feeding them a steady supply of Orgone, we can maintain this commensal equilibrium and stop the Symbiote from merging with me more. Maybe.” Haley smiles wryly, “Of course my part of this relationship is being a willing slave, always bound, always teased, always aroused, always funnelling energy to Halley and the beast. And we take Clients and add their Orgone to the mix too. It takes a lot to keep my Mistress fed and happy.”


“I stepped into Halley’s hooves.”

I blink, “What?”

Halley-16 snorts a laugh, “I became a dominatrix, or well, Halley-9 went back to being a dominatrix and I came along for the ride.”

I study Halley still bound up in a ball, elbows to knees, and have a hard time picturing her dominating a client. “How does that work?”

“Well, it can go a few different ways. Maybe the Client enters a room to find me tied to a rack and gagged. She cautiously approaches, confused, and then Halley-9 strikes, growing pseudopods and tentacles and binding the Client too. Then we both hang helplessly face-to-face as Halley teases us, breaks us down bit by bit, makes us gasp and shake and beg, until Halley eventually permits us to orgasm. Or maybe the Client is already shackled to the wall, and I’ll walk in and dominate him. Except it’s not me, it’s Halley puppetting me, gagging me and binding my limbs so that she’s the one moving us. Halley is really the one lovingly torturing the man, I’m just a helpless observer. Or maybe the scenario calls for a more dexterous touch and I have to be the dom. So I follow Halley’s mental commands, do the tasks I’m assigned like a good Slave. Halley is always the force behind our sessions, I’m really just a tool of her will.” Halley does her abbreviated shrug, “It’s really just another form of submission.”

“That’s quite the work around…”

Halley-16 playfully bites her lip, “Pretty hot right?”

“Maybe,” I say, wiping my chin again, trying not to think about being all tied up with Halley, helpless and horny and... Time to change the subject, “But isn’t the Symbiote eventually going to y’know?” Eat you?

Halley nods, “Yeah, this situation can’t last forever. Eventually the Symbiote will grow too hungry to feed, or Halley’s mind will erode into the gestalt, or maybe her self control will just slip a little and we’ll merge more. The Symbiote has already spread a bit from the start.” Halley cranes her neck which is coated in shiny black Symbiote stuff from her chin to the hollow of her throat. She smiles, “It’s always just delaying the inevitable, but we’ve made it work for 8 Halleys so far.”

“I see.”

“It’s actually clarifying to know that it’s not forever. I don’t need to worry about an unfamiliar future, I can just focus on enjoying whatever kinky time I have left. It’s like our therapists would always tell us: just try and live in the moment.”

I giggle, “I doubt they meant it like this!”

Halley-16 giggles too, “Well fuck ‘em, what do they know?” She smiles wistfully and tugs against her bonds, “Eventually I’m going to dissolve into her, body and mind, and merge completely with Halley-9 and the Symbiote. I’m going to submit myself to her completely and then live on with her forever in the Symbiotic gestalt mind.” She smiles her most angelic smile again, “I think it’s a beautiful end to my story, don’t you?”

I nod, it definitely sounds like the ultimate end to a submissive fantasy. “I’m happy for you.”

Halley frowns and squirms, clearly uncomfortable from holding her scrunched up prayer pose. Maybe sensing this, the black tentacles uncoil and totally release Halley-16’s limbs. She springs quickly to her feet and takes a few steps, twisting her torso and stretching out, shaking out her arms and legs. She smiles in relief, “Being stuck in a position too long really teaches you to appreciate a good stretch.” She throws her hands up over her head, straightens her back to stand perfectly tall, and sighs happily. Black tentacles shoot out from her wrists and back, reach rapidly up to metal rings bolted to the ceiling of her padded room, and wind through the mounting points. The tentacles snap tight, yanking Halley-9’s arms upward and forcing her up onto her tiptoes, leaving her partially suspended from the ceiling. She grunts and bites her lip, and I can see the harness of tentacles around her torso squeeze her breasts and bite into her pussy. Halley-16 gasps and her cheeks flush, I can tell she likes this and fuck it’s actually pretty sexy. Panting a little, Halley-16 says, “But this is nice too.”

“Fuck,” I say, feeling my pussymouth start to drool again.

“I’m right here,” Halley says, voice husky. “Helpless…”

Halley splits her legs, big toes barely brushing the floor, body dangling and vulnerable. The Symbiote tentacle flossed into the cleft of her pussy slowly splits, blossoming like a flower, and wraps around the joints of her legs and hips instead, baring her cunt which I can see is glistening and open. She shakes her head wildly, her short tousled hair spilling free and falling around her face, and looks at me with naked hunger. Her body is so baseline me, a normal Halley with a monster growing out of her.  I know I shouldn’t do it, I’m here on a secret fact finding mission, not to fuck another version of myself in a brothel, but knowing that it’s wrong just makes it hotter. I moan with my actual voice, a sound made raspy by the pussy juices leaking out of my face. We both want it, so why not take it? Take her like she wants me to. It’s not like fucking and detective work are mutually exclusive. We can always finish the interview after. I should just live in the moment.

I go to Halley and drop to my knees in front of where she hangs, face inches from her naked crotch. I look up at her, tingles racing through my face, my mouthpussy hot and wet and gaping and dripping down my chin. She stares down at me with her lip crushed between her teeth, desire flashing in her eyes. I push my face against her pussy, and she sways away from me and then swings back, bumping me in the head. I grunt and she giggles and I reach my hands around her, grab her ass, pull her hips to my face, hold her there as I smash my mouthpussy against her cunt. My throat floods with the taste of pussy, hers or maybe mine, and part of me wishes I still had a tongue to fuck her with. I grind the hard nose-sized clitoris on my face against her smaller one, rub my slick wet labia along hers, oral sex as scissoring. "Yyyesss...." Halley hisses, works her hips, pushes back against me. My heart is hammering and I'm panting and I can feel our mixed juices running down my face and dribbling onto my tits. I clutch her ass tighter, try to find more leverage, and I then I feel something hot and wet trickle across my hand, flow around my wrists, tighten, bind my hands in place against Halley's ass. The Symbiote! I gasp, I've been snared by the Symbiote! I'm trapped here with my face pressed against Halley's cunt, pussy to pussy! "Ffffffuuuckk..." I moan, and tug against my new bonds. Halley whimpers and wraps her legs around my head, thighs against my cheeks and calves on my shoulders. She pulls me closer to her, drives her cunt against my mouthpussy, rocks me back on my knees, makes stars explode behind my eyes. I groan and push myself back into her and feel something warm on my back, new Symbiotic tentacles sprouting from Halley's legs, slipping into and under my clothes, wrapping around my shoulders and back and torso, gripping my breasts, squeezing them almost painfully, and sliding down and down and down and "Ohhhh... ffffuuuckk" squirming into my pussy and ass. Part of me recoils at the intrusion, flashes back to the Sleeping God, but then Halley moans and humps my face and I’m back in the moment, bound to my clone while another version of me glues us together and consumes our sexual energy. More of the Symbiote flows into me, pushing deeper to completely fill my pussy and ass, stretching me like an intimate mold of my insides. I moan and squirm, making Halley sway from the ceiling. "Ahhhh...hnnnnn...." The Symbiote inside me starts to pulse, to contract and expand, stretching me and relaxing, fucking me in a totally new and alien way. The Symbiote's rhythm is steady, relentless, and slow, designed to drive me crazy without making me cum. I whimper and shudder and Halley thrusts at my mouthpussy, squeezes my face with her thighs, begs me to focus on her. I grind my facial cunt against her pussy harder and I want to slide my fingers into her cunt to feel her from the inside. I try to move my hands, but they're still trapped, stuck against Halley, helpless to move. My clothes cling to me and bunch and chafe, and I'd tear them off of me if I could.  "Ffffuuuckkk..." Halley's breath is coming faster, coming in quick little whining gasps, and I can tell she is so, so close to coming. I lift myself into a crouch, take Halley's body weight onto my shoulders and head and cunt. She moans, adjusts her legs as much as our Symbiote bonds allow, and tries to bear down on my face, to crush our cunts together even harder. I growl and lunge forward like I'm trying to tackle her, leading with my mouthpussy. I push Halley up, my neck and shoulders and back straining, and we both gasp as our pussies grind together. I rock back and forward again, using gravity to thrust my aching clit against Halley faster and harder, fucking her with my whole body. Halley shudders and moans, uses her legs to smash us together harder with every stroke, attacking my face with her cunt. The Symbiote inside of me spasms and expands, stretching me wider, making my knees go weak, making me almost stumble, but I keep fucking Halley with all of the power and speed and desperation I can muster. I'm moaning with my real voice, a strangled wet raspy inarticulate sound that’s halfway muffled by pussy and thigh and fuck, fuck I'm so fucking close too! I can feel sparks of pleasure arc in my face, feel that liminal moment of almost tumbling over the edge, but not quite, not quite, not quite, and suddenly Halley is crushing my head in her thighs, legs spasming, back arched, every muscle tetanus tight, head back and screaming "AHHHHHHHHNNNNGGGHHHHH!!!" as she explodes in orgasm! An entire day of frustration and teasing blowing out of her all at once! I lunge one more time, grind my clit desperately into Halley’s, holding on desperately to keep my feet as Halley thrashes. The Symbiote constricts painfully around my breasts and flails wildly inside my pussy and ass, and all at once I feel stars erupt inside my pussy and back and face and "Uggnnhnnnnnnnn...!!!!" an orgasms rips through me like a storm! My legs go weak and I stumble, fall over, dangle bonelessly from the still suspended panting Halley, completely spent…

We spin lazily, both of us gasping for air and glowing, too sated to move, until the Symbiote goes loose, tentacles suddenly languid, like a postcoital lover or a diner whose eaten too much good food. I feel my weight settle onto the padded floor and squirm as my limbs are released. I watch as Halley-16 is gently lowered back onto her feet. The Symbiote oozes back into her, flowing back into the reservoirs on her arms and legs and back and throat. She stands loosely, easily, and grins down at me with a dreamy smile. She tucks her hair behind her ears and blushes, suddenly looking a little shy. She reaches down and pulls me to my feet, wraps her arms around me in a hug, and kisses me on my labial lips. “I told you I know what we like.”

“Yeah,” I say breathlessly, hugging her back.

She pulls back a little, still with her arms circled around me, and tilts her head, "So why did you come for a visit anyway? The sex was fun, but I got the impression you weren't exactly here for playtime."

I blush, "Not initially, no."


"I'm actually here to find some information."

"Then ask away." She blinks her violet eyes, "But better go quick, you never know when I'll be gagged again."

I laugh and shake my head. How to say this? "I was kind of sent here, by... an interested party?"


"...Who told me that a Halley living in the Sexbox has key information about the whereabouts of Halley-Prime."

"And this mysterious party sent you? Why?" Halley-16 is studying my face very carefully.

I shake my head and shrug, "I was told Halley would only talk to another version of us."

An eyebrow raises, "So you thought you could just come here and fuck the information out of me?"

I blush and sputter, "No! That wasn't! It's not..."

Halley giggles and gives me another smooch on the labia. "I'm kidding!" She shakes her head with an apologetic smile, "Unfortunately I don't know anything about Halley-Prime. I never really looked into her disappearance, and I washed up here pretty quickly. I'd tell you if I knew anything, promise."

I frown. I believe her, but Scèolan made it sound like her benefactor was certain the info was here. "Is it possible that Halley-9 knew something?"

Halley shrugs, sucks her lips thoughtfully, "...Maybe? But if she did, she never told me about it, and at this point I doubt she's even capable of answering." Halley-16 touches the shiny black flesh on her throat, "I kinda doubt she did, though. She also ended up working in the Sexbox pretty soon after respawning and didn't go out on any adventures."

"Maybe a client told her something?"

"Sure? But if they did, how would your mysterious party even know about it?"

"Good point." I pull Halley-16 closer into my arms and rest my forehead against hers, thinking. What information did Scèolan give me? "There is a Halley in the Sexbox. She knows something important. She probably will only tell it to another Halley. She might be on the run from someone?"

Halley-16 pulls back suddenly, blinking her eyes, laughing. "Oh my god!"


She giggles, "We are not the Halleys you are looking for..."

"What do you mean?"

"It's all been a mix up! You aren't here to see me at all! Matron sent you to the wrong place."

"Which means?"

She smirks, "You're really here to see Halley-18."


To be continued.


Re: Flotsam

Am I the only one who has trouble keeping track of which Halley is which?

That being said, nice new chapter.


Re: Flotsam

“Our” Halley is emotionally adapting much better than I expected.


Re: Flotsam

@DGH: Wait until next chapter when I have 4 Halleys in the same room!

I did post a Halley guide after the first act: https://legendsofbelial.net/viewtopic.p … 360#p12360

I’ll do an updated list at the end of the second act.


Re: Flotsam

Chapter 22: https://indigocarminefiction.blogspot.c … er-22.html


Chapter 22: Memetic

“Hello? I know you’re there! I might be blind, but I can still hear you…”

I look over at Halley-16 and all she can do is shrug. Her mouth is gagged by the Halley-9 Symbiote and her arms are bound behind her back like she’s wearing manacles. She totters on tiptoes, feet forced en pointe by shiny black Symbiote boots. She minces a little step and nearly trips as the tentacle hobble linking her ankles snaps taught. Halley-16 just barely catches her balance and blushes at me. Clearly she isn’t going to be much help here.

“Is making me wait part of the game?” Halley-18 asks while lifting her head, I guess trying to pinpoint us by sound. Her sightless eyes pass over me; no pupils, just round circles of unbroken violet iris. She licks her lips thoughtfully. “Okay…” she purrs, twisting her naked limbless body on the plush white bed. She rolls her smoothed over shoulders and works her legless hips back and forth in a way that displays the shamelessly exposed pink slit of her pussy. “Do you want me to beg?”

I swallow heavily, horrified but also maybe a little turned on. Halley-18 is a blind limbless quadruple amputee, a helpless living plaything here in the Sexbox. Which, fuck, why does this shit keep happening to me?

“Oooo…” Halley-18 whimpers, wriggling. “I’m sooooo wet….”

I blush, “Please stop.”

“Oh. It’s a me.” Halley-18 flops her limbless body flat on the mattress. “I guess you aren’t here to fuck me then?” She sounds disappointed.

“No, I’m here to ask you some questions?” I clear my throat awkwardly. “Hi, I’m Halley-24.”

“Up to 24 already?” Halley-18 looks mostly in my direction and shakes her head. “Well, come have a seat so we can get this over with…”

I glance nervously at Halley-16 who shrugs and then nods her head. Halley-18 frowns at the delay. “I don’t bite,” she says, “Well I do, but I’m easy to dodge.” She wiggles her abbreviated body as if trying to make a point. I take a deep, long breath and walk across the sparse little room and sit cautiously on the edge of the bed. “That’s better,” Halley-18 says.

Up close like this I can’t help but study Halley-18. She’s mostly a baseline Halley, or at least what’s left of her is. She has no arms or legs, her body ending abruptly at the shoulders and hips. Her limbless shoulders are round and perfectly smooth, creating the appearance that Halley was born this way. Her torso from shoulder to hip is one elegantly unbroken line, smooth ribs to smooth sides to the smooth flare of her hips. She has modest breasts which pool naturally on her chest and absolutely killer ab definition. Like her shoulders, her hips are rounded over without a single trace that she ever had legs. Her truncated hips and ass are unnaturally full too, artfully sculpted to create a soft heart-shape where her body ends. Obscenely displayed in this abbreviated valley is the wet pink folds of her pussy, boldly presented as if it’s the whole point of her, ripe and ready for the taking.

I snatch my vision away from Halley-18’s vagina and focus on her face instead. Her violet eyes look without seeing, too still and too aimed a little wrong. Her empty purple irises are enormous and up close I can see a tiny white speck in the very centre, a pinprick of severed nerves. Her dark hair is cut down to a short fuzz and her eyebrows have grown unkempt. She has freckles across the bridge of her nose, except they’re green and shiny, and I realize she has emerald scales on her face. The scales splash across the top of chest too, sprinkling along her collarbones, and back around her rounded shoulders. The scales are faintly metallic and I’m tempted to touch one to see what they feel like. I wonder how this version of me ended up limbless and blind and slightly scaly.

“So…?” Halley-18 smirks at me like she knows I’m ogling her. “What do you want to know? Is this part of a Halley-vision-quest-type thing?”

I shake my head and remember she can’t see. “No, I’m here with… a specific line of inquiry?”

Halley-18 giggles, “Specific line of inquiry! So full of intrigue!”

I blush, “Questions! I have questions…”

“Then ask already! I haven’t got all day!”

I blink my eyes and look at her dubiously, she’s a limbless woman laying in a bed, “Am I interrupting your evening walk?”

Halley-18 laughs and a genuine smile breaks out on her face. “Touche!” She grins and I can see her teeth are little fangs, “You’re okay, Halley-24.” She sighs and flops back flat on the bed, “But the faster we do this, the sooner a client might come who actually wants to use me.” Halley humps her hips up and down making the bed bounce a little.

I feel a little queasy, “An interested party told me that a Halley living in the Sexbox knew something important about Halley-Prime. Is that you?”

Halley-18 lays very still, does a trademark deep breath, “Who told you I was here?”

I frown, not so playful now. “An Infobroker who knew Prime, goes by the name Gan Ceann. Their agent said you knew something about why Halley-Prime was abducted from Earth…” I pause, “I was also told you might be on the run? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“Of course not,” Halley-18 says, slipping her brave face back on. “I’m just very kinky. I came here to the Sexbox all lonely and horny, and liked what I saw. Kid in the candy store kind of thing.” She wiggles obscenely, “Next thing you know I’ve lost some surplus parts and joined the Industry as a living sex toy. Just another grown up Catholic School girl with some weird internalized fetishes…”

From across the room Halley-16 grunts and stumbles, shakes her head vigorously. I got that Halley-18 was lying, but the confirmation is nice. 

Halley-18 swings her face blindly around the room, her face angry. She growls, “Is that you Triple H? Be quiet! This doesn’t concern you!”

“Did you just call her Triple H?”

Halley-18 snorts, “Hogtied Horny Halley. Or Hobbled Horny Halley. Or maybe Helpless Horny Halley. H-H-H.”


“What can I say? I have a lot of time on my…” She shrugs her armless shoulders, “Not hands exactly.”


Halley-16 makes another muffled sound, chewing on her gag, drooling. Halley-18 glowers sort of in her direction. “It’ll be Harmed Hopeless Halley in a minute if you don’t be quiet!”

The Symbiotic pseudopod in Halley-16’s mouth flows out of the way and she gasps, “What’ll you do? Bite my ankles?”

Halley-18 hisses, “Maybe. It’s not like you’ve got the fastest getaway.”

Halley-16 stomps her ballerina-toed foot angrily, slips a little, her ankle hobble going tight and yanking, and yelps as she falls to the ground, landing awkwardly. I stand up to go to her, “Oh my god, Halley are you okay?”

“I’m fine… although this is why I prefer padded floors.” She groans and kicks her legs to roll into a more comfortable position on the floor. “Halley, stop lying to her and just tell her the real story.”

Halley-18 makes a hissing sound and unleashes a patented Halley-style dirty look at Halley-16. Unfortunately her aim is way off and Halley-16 is facing away from her anyway. I blink my eyes and notice that Halley-16’s scales are thicker on the back of her neck, a solid skin of emerald and gold with lapis lazuli highlights. I take a step and lean in, see the mosaic of scales continue down her shoulders and disappear under her body. I wonder how far down they go and whether she has an entire reptilian back tattoo. I think about turning her over to look; it’s not like she can stop me…

And holy crap! Scales! Halley-18 has scales! I gasp and place a hand over my pussy, Halley-18 was in the Syndicate! She worked for Reptilian gangsters! Which is probably how she learned the information I’m after. And why she she’s hiding out here. It still doesn’t explain why she’s a limbless sextoy, but maybe I can use this. “You were in the Syndicate.”

Halley-18 looks in the direction of my voice. Her mouth is a thin line and her blind eyes are narrow. “What makes you say that?”

“Your scales.”

“I just like lizards.”

“I’m sure you do, but I think you should start talking before I go ask your former employers about what you know.”

“You wouldn’t.”

I tilt my head and think about it. I’ve met enough Halleys to know we’re capable of a lot of things. I could easily picture The Destroyer doing something so ruthless. Or Sister Superior Teuthida. I don’t think I have it in me though, and honestly I’m pretty okay with that. But if ever there was a time to bluff… “You’re right, I wouldn’t.” Halley-18 relaxes a little, round shoulders slumping. “But Gan Ceann probably will. So take it from the top.”

Halley-18 bares her fangs at me like she’s going to keep arguing, but then closes her eyes and sighs, lays on her back and stares blankly at the ceiling. “The only thing I don’t like about being limbless is not being able to walk away from assholes.” She points her face in my general direction, “Swear to me that you and your Infobroker will keep my situation to yourselves. I’m sure the Dragon knows I’m here, but I get the feeling that our little detente will be over the moment I cause any sort of fuss.” She winces, “And I’m not exactly built for quick getaways…”

“I promise.”

“I guess I should start at the beginning? Give you the whole Halley meet up experience.” Halley-18 stretches out her neck. “I appeared in Clem’s weird apartment, met her and her sex pet, and was shuffled off to Hank to work through my hysterics. I moved in with Hank and Freya and did the waitress thing at the Hideaway and for a while it was really nice.” Halley-18 smiles darkly with more than a little fang. “Until it wasn’t. There was always an undercurrent of sexual tension between the three of us. Freya is a woman of incredible passion and appetite, and she made it obvious she wanted me. Hank is less straightforward, but he wanted me too, I think because when he’s fucking another Halley he feels like a unique person instead of a clone.” Halley shrugs her empty shoulders. “I was attracted to them both, but too scared of fucking up my home to jump into that situation with my legs open, so to say.” Halley wags her truncated hips around playfully. “And so there I was living with Hank and Freya, listening to them fuck when they were together, and having them both try and seduce me when they were apart. It was a lot. And so I started going for long walks. It might seem hard to believe now, but I used to love going for walks. Just climbing down from the Hideaway rooftop and striding along on my legs for hours…” Halley-18 shivers and winces, “Disgusting.”

I frown and blink, what?

“Anyway,” she continues, “I’d go for these long aimless walks all over the Mesa, just taking in the new alien world and exploring Flotsam.” Halley frowns thoughtfully, “We never really did that on Earth, did we? Always too scared to wander around unfamiliar streets and strangers. Instead we squirreled ourself away in that crappy trailer park.” She shakes her head, “The funny thing is that walking is this amazing way to be hidden. If you just keep moving you’re basically invisible. Anonymous.” Halley smiles, “And all the exercise is great for burning off extra anxiety energy.” She nods to herself, “But I think my favourite thing was the people watching. Flotsam is wildly entertaining: different species and cultures and individuals all stacked up on this stupid little mountain. I could just pick a direction, walk a few blocks, and see something I’d never seen before, or someone completely new. A futuristic machine or bizarre stranger or brand new species. It was the cheapest, best show in town.” Halley frowns thoughtfully and points her face at where she thinks I am. “You know the main thing I learned from all my walks?”


“Everyone is scared.”

I blink, “Okay…?”

“Everyone is constantly afraid, and their fear drives their behavior. Fear is the key to understanding life.”

“That’s…” Super dark and deeply fucked up, and how do you even get there from people watching…“cynical?”

Halley-18 grins with her fangs out. “People only follow rules because they fear punishment. They work at a job because they fear hunger and poverty. People fall in love because they’re afraid of being alone. People have children because they fear death, and I guess biology,” Halley shrugs her shoulder nubs. “People are violent because they’re afraid of being hurt and desire control for fear of being powerless.”

“And you joined the Syndicate to what, gain power?”

“Sort of.” Halley-18 lays flat on the mattress and glares at the ceiling. “I started to see the Syndicate on my walks; they’re almost everywhere once you learn what to look for. Maybe I saw a shakedown first, an obvious crime, but just kept walking. Then maybe I noticed a Reptilian patrol checking in on a corner dealer. Then there was a street vendor who seemed a little crooked and had scales on his arm. Soon I’d start to notice them in the crowd walking anonymously.” Halley frowns, “It’s hard to explain exactly what I saw, but they had a way of being in the world. The Syndicate carried themselves with a confidence, a bravado, and the sapients around them responded to it, subconsciously deferred to them. They were fearsome.”

“So you joined the Syndicate to get over your fear?”

Halley-18 shook her head, “I didn’t say they were fear-less. You sighted folks need to learn to listen better.” She sighed, “They were fear-some. The Syndicate are just as afraid as everyone else, and even have extra criminal fears. Fear of law enforcement, fear of their bosses, fear of the violence inherent in illegal enterprise. Fear of imminent death. But rather than cower to that fear, they reflect it back into the world, project it onto others. They become fear, live in it.” Halley works her jaw for a moment, “As someone who had let fear rule her life, who ran away from it, surrendered to it, the idea of just owning that fear, of making it a weapon was… incredible. I wanted to become fearsome… instead of just afraid.”

Halley-16 scoffs from the floor, “You’re so full of shit.” The Symbiote has grown ribbons that wrap around her limbs leaving her cocooned like a mummy. “You did it for the money.”

Halley-18 laughs, “The money was good too! Crime really does pay.” She smiles at the ceiling, “I also found a sense of belonging and family and self-importance; all the usual gang stuff. But the thing that made me reach out to the Syndicate was that epiphany about fear.”

“How does an Earthling girl even join an alien gang? Just walk up and say ‘Hi I’d like to do a crime’?”

“Pretty much. I approached a few scaly drug dealers and made my pitch, and when that didn’t work, I bothered some higher ranked gangsters on a patrol. When that still didn’t work, I picked out Syndicate members who were trying to be anonymous and introduced myself to them. So it was probably me being a nuisance that got the Syndicates attention, but hey whatever works, right?”

Halley-18 licks her dry lips, “The Syndicate contacted me when I was out on a walk. I turned a corner and heard a sound like a rattlesnake and glanced back to see a woman dressed in dark blue scales and leather coming up behind me. She hissed at me to look forward, to keep walking, and asked if I was looking for work. I told her I was, and she replied that maybe she had something for me. The woman gave me city coordinates and a timestamp and told me to be punctual. Then silently she slipped away. I had my first job.”

“I got to the rendezvous with time to spare; too much time really. I was nervous and twitchy and so close to running away, but I practiced my breathing, paced out my anxiety, made myself stay. And then this gigantic slab of a human man approached me. He was six and a half feet tall and unnaturally wide, wearing a huge dark leather coat, supple leather gloves that he kept tucked in his sleeves, and a stupid hat, like a wide brimmed bowler. He told me that his name was Boomslang and that I was to follow him. I was twitchy so I nattered at him, but he basically ignored me aside from the occasional grunt until we reached a little bodega-like shop. Boomslang told me that we’d arrived and that I was to be his Face for the evening. I didn’t know what he meant, so he tersely explained he was the Heavy and I was the Face. It was my job to sweet talk the shopkeeper into paying their debt or else there would be consequences. I asked what consequences, and he quietly replied the Heavy.” Halley-18 smiled wistfully, “I walked into the store and went up to the thin Blue behind the counter and introduced myself as their debt collector. The Blue was called Soupcan and they were terrified, but so was I, so scared of them and Boomslang and myself and the whole crazy situation. But rather than run away I projected that fear, stood tall and askance, grinned with too many teeth, leaned forward and put my elbows on the counter, and made myself fearsome. The Blue shopkeeper cowered and I felt this awful little thrill at winning the balance.” Halley-18 wiggled her limbless body and smiled. “I did my best to make Soupcan pay up, I really did. I ran through everything I could think of: appeals to their welfare, appeals to their business sense, appeals to how their Community would feel to see them beaten by a gangster, I threatened, I pleaded, I promised, but that stubborn Blue was a tough nut. And then Boomslang walked into the shop.”

“Boomslang slowly peeled off his soft leather gloves revealing gnarled, scaly reptilian hands. He had long talons on every too thick finger, ridged barbed scales like armour that ran back along his hands and knuckles, and rough black scales that disappeared up the sleeves of his coat. Soupcan’s eyes went wide, even for a Blue, and started to beg, but well, the time for deals was past. Boomslang handed his gloves to me, gently pushed me aside, and was across the room and hauling Soupcan out from his perch in the blink of an eye. He held that tall thin alien aloft and beat him, carefully, thoughtfully, precisely, for what felt like ages. My heart was pounding and my mouth was cotton-dry, this was the most violent, most terrifying thing I’d ever seen, but it was thrilling too. I was on the right side of the dagger blade, watching someone else be broken. I’d never felt powerful before and I loved it.” Halley shakes her head, “I knew I should feel bad, guilty or whatever, but I didn’t. I wonder what that says about me? About us?” Halley looks blindly in my direction and smiles very thinly.  “And then Boomslang was finished, dropping a wheezing, pulverized Soupcan to the floor. Boomslang calmly drew something like a kerchief out of his coat and delicately cleaned the blue-black blood off his monstrous hands. He reached out to me for his gloves and told me to come along.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Halley-18 nods, “And so I became a Face for a while, the friendly voice for Boomslang as he  collected debts. Usually sapients paid up without a beating, and I got better at saying the right things, finding that line between no fucks friendly banter and threat, to talk most folks round to the less painful way of doing business. I got better at reading when I had a hard case too, learned to just step outside the shop and let Boomslang be the Heavy. It became transactional, seemed like a normal part of doing business, and not the violent crime that it was. It’s funny how quickly you get calloused to things.” Halley snorts a laugh, “When we eventually went back to Soupcan he paid up in full, he’d burned his Social Capital and his Community had bailed him out. I can’t imagine what that did to his Standing...”

“One day me and Boomslang visited a glassblower with a gambling problem. I entered his little gallery and gawked, it was beautiful. The shop was filled with ornate vases and statues made from kaleidoscopes of twisted rainbow glass, all of it artfully arranged on pedestals or shelves. I said a cheerful hello and found the human glassman staring at me defiantly, hands on narrow hips, face lit up luridly with projected colour. I was feeling jaunty and jovial so I toyed with him, touched his artwork as we chatted, poked and nudged his sculptures, eventually knocked over a beautiful piece to punctuate a point. He was mad, I could tell I’d wound him up too far, but fuck, I didn’t care. When he refused to pay, I laughed at him, told him the glassman shouldn’t play hard. I smashed a vase on the floor, told him life is brittle. Boomslang entered with his impeccable timing, looming, but rather than take off his gloves, he handed me a pair of steel knuckles. He told me it was time for me to be the Heavy.” Halley takes a deep breath, “For a moment I was too stunned to do anything, just held those heavy, heavy steel dusters in my shaking hands. Sweat trickled down my back and my pulse pounded in my ears. I wasn’t ready for this, wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t vicious enough to do this. Or was I? I’d been jointly responsible for at least a dozen beatings already, my hands were already dirty. What was worse about doing it myself? It was more honest in a way,” A wry smile played across her lips. “I looked at the glassman and weighed him up. He was small and slight, maybe from a planet with too little food or weird gravity or miniature genetics. I was scared, sure, but I figured I could probably take him, especially with the knuckles putting extra weight behind my punches. And Boomslang was there, silently watching. He’d step in if I started to lose, right?” Halley-18 shakes her head, “Now I’m not sure he would’ve...”

“I slipped the knuckles onto my hands. I was panting and scared out of my mind, but somehow giddy too. The steel knuckles were cold on my fingers, made my hands feel cumbersome and huge and heavy as guilt. The room seemed too bright, too loud, too real somehow; certainly too colorful, like a feverish dream sculpted from rainbows. I squared my shoulders, walked to the glassman, boots crunching on the glass of his broken artwork. The glassman looked at me, looked at Boomslang, looked at me, raised his hands in surrender, but we all knew what was going to happen. I threw my first punch clumsily, too skittish to put any weight behind it, and clipped one of his hands. The glassman shrieked, but more from nerves than anything, and I stumbled a bit. He shied away and I hit him again, catching his arm solidly this time, the knuckles making it hard enough to bruise. He shoved out at me, made me stumble backward and knock over a statue, sending it to shatter on the floor. I was mad now and growled and punched, fell back on that old self-defense class and kneed him in the balls. He wheezed and curled up, cupped his aching crotch with his hands, and presented his face, so I punched it as hard as I could, no form, just threw all my weight recklessly into it. Through the knuckles I felt something in his face give, crack, break, buckle, and I watched him go over sideways, blood spilling out of his mouth. I lifted a statue and smashed it over his head, sharp glass falling over him. I kicked him and kicked him and he somehow stumbled to his feet, unsteadily. So I pulled him towards me and punched him in the nose, crushing it flat beneath my knuckles, and then threw him into an art display, knocking him back to the sharp glassy ground. I grabbed another pair of statues, the size and weight of wine bottles, and hit him with them until they broke. Then I punched him in the face and hands and arms when he tried to curl up. Then I was kicking him, over and over, making him roll around in the broken glass. And then Boomslang was gently pulling me back, reminding me that a dead man pays no debts.”

Halley rotates her smooth limbless shoulders as if she were lifting her arms. “I was trembling, holding up my bloody aching hands in front of me like I didn’t know what to do with them. My toes hurt inside my boots,” Halley-18 cringes in revulsion. “My skin was burning, I was cut all over by glass, bleeding from dozens of tiny little wounds. I was gasping and had tears in my eyes, but I couldn’t tell if it was shock or anger or grief or triumph. I looked back at the glassman moaning on the floor and felt sick and jubilant and horrified and proud. Boomslang rested his heavy gloved hand on my shoulder and nodded like something significant had happened. Then he led me out of the gallery.” She smiles faintly, “I passed the test.”


“The next thing I knew I was being summoned to a fancy restaurant up in the Terraces. It was a handsome stone building with a tiled roof of colorful recycled plastic and a huge patio with a great view out over the Mesa and Spaceport. I was so nervous, clutching my simple printed dress, too aware of my bruised knuckles and all the little bandages and cuts on my bare arms and legs. I felt so out of place. I was led to a table and found the woman who recruited me relaxing with a fizzing red drink. She told me to sit and took a long sip of her drink, the dark blue ceramic snake rattles in her dreadlocked hair hissing a little with the motion. She was wearing tight dark trousers and a navy vest like a halter top waistcoat that bared sinewy arms covered in sleeves of blue and gold scales. Metallic gold scales on her breastbone glinted in the evening sun like a medallion, drawing my eyes to her bare cleavage. She cleared her throat and I looked up to see yellow reptilian eyes studying me from a domino mask of midnight blue scales. ‘I am called Krait’ she told me cooly, ‘and from now on you work directly for me.’”

“Food was brought to our table, real meat from some big mammal-type animal, an absolute luxury. Krait flicked a forked tongue and carved into her steak with a knife. Without looking up she told me that my hard work had been noticed, that I was increasingly seen as dependable, a woman who could see things through. At least provisionally. Krait told me there was a realignment happening, that there was a real opportunity for women like her to get ahead. Perhaps for me as well, if I could be strong enough and cunning enough and fierce enough. Krait looked up at me with those blazing slit eyes and asked me if I was a predator or prey. I felt a little pang of panic, what the fuck had I gotten myself into? I’d wanted a taste of power, sure, but here I was being propositioned by someone with real clout. But the time for doubts was before I kicked the shit out of someone, so I put on my bravest shittiest grin and told Krait she already knew the answer. Krait took a bite of her meat and nodded as she chewed. Krait reached under the table and handed me an object, a sheathed dagger. Hands shaking, I pulled the knife out of its cover and studied it. It was a simple blade, salvaged Junk Desert ceramic honed to a microtome edge with an artless tungsten guard and a handle crafted from some up-cycled polymer. It was functional and brutal and completely made of repurposed garbage. I gasped, understanding what it meant.” Halley-18 blinked her sightless eyes and paused, “Do you know about Reptilians and their daggers?”

My mind goes back to The Arena and the staged Proving and all of the males stabbing each other for breeding favor. “Not really.”

“Blading is a Reptilian tradition that goes back to their ancient times and is a mark of status and fealty. When a male Reptilian is taken as a vassal, their Matriarch awards them a ceremonial dagger that bears symbols of their rank and allegiance. This knife becomes a mark of pride for the male and the weapon they’ll use in Honour Duels and Provings. To be given a knife by Krait was to be marked as a valued member of her Cohort and not just some thug. I wasn’t a punk playing gangster anymore, I was being made a Lieutenant in the Syndicate. I felt fear and pride war in my heart and I smiled and looked up at Krait. Thank you, I’d said. Krait smiled thinly back, her lips red with bloody juices, and said: I think we’ll call you Glass now. You should eat your meat before it grows cold.”

“We finished our meal in silence and then Krait took me to another Terrace building, an upscale Shaper clinic run by the Syndicate. I was confused, but obediently followed Krait inside while wondering why we were there. Krait brought me to a small treatment room with a recliner. She turned to me suddenly, her dreadlock rattles hissing menacingly, and told me that I’d earned my first scales. I was speechless; this was another big right of passage. Humans in the Syndicate with Rank, humans like Krait, we’re given the right to Shape scales onto their bodies, to emulate their Reptilian Matriarchs. It was considered an honor to elevate my lowly mammal form toward a Reptilian Ideal, but it was also expected of me as another act of fealty. My new dagger marked my status and allegiance within Reptilian circles, but growing scales would mark my Syndicate affiliation to everyone else. The fact I was a criminal gangster would be obvious, carved into my body for display, visible to the world. I shivered, this was another big step down a dangerous path, and one that would change how sapients saw me. How Clem and Freya and Hank would see me. Did I really want to do this? But again it was too late for doubts, this was just another part of the promotion I’d already accepted. I took off my dress and climbed up onto the recliner. Krait bared her long fangs in a grin, a strange look in her eyes like desire.”

Halley-18 scans blindly around the room, searching for me. “Roll me over.”


“Roll me over,” Halley-18 repeats as she finds my voice and gives me an impatient look. I reach out and touch her, grasp her by a warm bare truncated shoulder and hip and roll her onto her front. Her back is covered in a mosaic of scales, gold and green mostly, but with a few lapis lazuli accents, an organic geometry that makes me think of snakes. It’s actually quite beautiful. “You can touch,” Halley instructs me, “I’m not going to stop you.” As if she could.  I hesitate, but curiosity wins out and I run my finger along the scales covering Halley-18’s spine. The scales are smooth and dry and hard, like kernels of uncooked corn. It reminds me of the time I touched a blue-tongued skink in the Trailer park guy’s pet collection. Halley shivers at the touch. “That feels nice,” she purrs.

I snatch my hand back like a frightened animal, “So you got a knife and some back scales and a cute nickname.”

Halley-18 twists her head to avoid talking into the mattress, “Not just the back. I also had scales added to my hands: thick crocodilian plates across my knuckles like my own built in knuckle dusters. Like Boomslang. At the time I thought it was a badass choice; a nod to my history and a neat little threat.” She shivers, “Now the idea just seems revolting.”

“Yeah.” The thought of beating someone with my own hands and then celebrating it with a tattoo was pretty fucked.

“Krait liked it though, and when my Shaping was finished I opened my eyes to find her staring at me with that same unexpected hunger. She lunged at me, quick like a snake, and I felt her lips press against mine in a kiss, aggressive and biting and sharp. I kissed her back, surprised and uncertain but game, heart pounding in my chest. I felt her hands trace across my naked body, her hard enamel nails rasping across my skin and gliding along my new scales. She guided me onto my back and I felt her fingers dip down to my crotch and push into me assertively. I gasped and wriggled, the sudden penetration not entirely comfortable. Krait was beautiful and sexy and dangerous, attractive and terrifying all at once. I knew that fucking her was not a smart or safe move, but well, she was somehow already fucking me and I wasn’t going to stop her. Krait started to finger fuck me, slowly at first, a smooth motion of total control. I started to pant, roll my hips against her hand, but she pressed me down flat with her other hand, “Ssssssstill.” I laid there biting my lip as Krait started to move faster, pushed a third finger inside of me, dragged along the sensitive ridges of my pussy. She smiled and licked her lips with a forked tongue, a distant look on her face like she wasn’t exactly seeing me, “Yesssssssssss.” Krait started to fuck me faster, her fingers rapidly thrusting in and out, her hand pushing me up against my chair. I mewled and gasped and tilted my head back and…. Ahhhhhhhhh.” Halley-18 writhes on her stomach and does her best orgasm impression. Despite myself I stare at the round swell of her ass, enormous looking on her small squirming body. “And then I felt the fingers inside my pussy hook sharply, felt Krait’s hand suddenly clutch me tightly by the cunt. I mewled in shock, breathless and aroused, but hurt and confused. Krait squeezed me tighter, her nails digging into me like a threat, and stared into my eyes, “Never forget that you are mine now.””

“Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah,” Halley-18 sighed.

“And then what happened?”

“Then I became something like Krait’s personal bounty hunter. If some sapient tried to pull a runner on us, Krait would sick me and my crew on them.” Halley smiled tightly, “I was really good at it too. I don’t know if it was the time I spent shadowing Boomslang, or having access to Syndicate resources, or just a natural talent, but I could find almost anyone on Flotsam. And even if someone tried to flee off planet I’d usually catch them at the Port, tipped off by one of my pet officials.” Haley-18 bared her little fangs, “No one escaped Glass.”

“And once you found them?”

“It could go a few different ways. Sometimes I’d just stop by for a jaunty hello, a fuck you reminder that I’d always be able to find them. Or maybe I’d bring along Boomslang and his new protege for a more in depth conversation about obligations. Sometimes I’d hand my prey off to the Serpent’s Enforcers, tough male guards who'd drag the runner back to the Dragon for extra punishment. Maybe Indenture in a Breakyard or execution, or maybe a more exotic punishment.” Halley shrugs her armless shoulders, “I tried not to find out.”

I nodded, “You learned something about Halley-Prime while working as a Bounty Hunter, right? Found her while chasing down another lead? Maybe used all your new contacts to learn some things?”

“No,” Halley-18 spat an unimpressive dribble onto her mattress. “Of course not. I don’t give a fuck about Halley-Prime! She’s gone, probably dead, and honestly, good riddance. The sooner we all move on, the better our new lives will be.”

I frown at the blind quadruple amputee. Right, so much better. “Then how did you learn about Halley-Prime?”

“I got another promotion.” Halley-18 pauses, “Roll me onto my back.”

I sigh wetly and grab Halley by her smooth shoulder and hip again, and flopped her onto her back. She lifts her head and sniffs the air as I pull away. “Why does your face smell so much like pussy?”

“My diet.”

Halley-18 laughs, “I make a pretty tasty snack.” She closes her eyes and stretches languidly, making a showcase of her limbless body. Again I find my eyes tracing over her helpless form, arresting on the pink blossom of her glistening wet labia, absolutely ripe for the taking. She’s aroused, she wants me to use her. Fuck. I spare a glance at Halley-16 who is once again hogtied on the floor, but this time with a Symbiotic hood wrapped over her eyes and ears. No one is watching. I could do it, fuck Halley-18 like the toy she so desperately wants to be. That she has made herself into. No one but us would ever know. I feel my pussymouth water and a warmth in my belly. I’m not sure if it’s the power to use Halley or the thought of being helpless that’s got my motor running. It would be so sexy… But what am I even doing!? No! Focus Halley!

“I just ate,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “You were about to tell me about your new promotion. And what you know about Prime.”

Halley-18 pouts, “Almost had you, didn’t I?” She sighs and tilts her head way back, chin aimed at the ceiling. “I got a special assignment, straight from The Serpent herself. Krait told me that our Matron was aware of my good work and that she needed someone trustworthy to recover a package. I asked what sort of package, and was told that knowing wasn’t part of the assignment. I was to find my way to a contact, obtain my objective, and bring it back to Krait unopened.” Halley shrugged her head, “It felt a little ridiculous, beneath me, but sure, I could go fetch a thing. So I greased some palms and snuck into the Port and found my contact, some sort of alien Spacer in a bulky twelve-limbed environment suit. The alien held up a manipulator arm holding a thin rectangular object and made something like the ‘pay up' gesture with another arm. I made the payment and the alien handed me the package, just a thin envelope made of hard plastic, but painted in a jagged stripe pattern of white and red and yellow. It was like a Christmas present wrapped in poison snake skin. I clutched the package to me, nodded and slipped away, went deeper into the port for some privacy. I found a quiet space under the struts of a huge ingot lifter and saw I was alone. I held the envelope up and wondered what was inside. What could justify sending a special courier? What called for the bright warning colors? I turned the object over and studied the closure; it was just a simple aluminum snap and flap, easily opened. I felt around and didn’t feel any sort of tattletale mechanism, but I’m just a dumb Earthling girl living in a sci-fi movie, so who knows, right? Would they know if I opened it? Would I even recognize the contents? Was it just some meaningless information? Could it be dangerous? Maybe it was nothing at all, and this was some sort of loyalty test, a trial run for later jobs. It was so much safer to just leave it alone. But fuck me, I was so curious.”

“Did you open it?”

Halley shakes her head, “No, no I didn’t. I brought it back to Krait unopened. Which I guess was the right move, since it got me promoted to The Serpent’s personal courier.” She grunts a laugh, “I’d finally made the big time! Well, if being a glorified mailman counts as the big time.” She shows a little fang, “Krait sent me all over Flotsam carrying sealed packages or fetching private messages for The Serpent. I do mean everywhere too: all over the city, but also across species and class. The Syndicate has a sharp little claw in all sorts of things, from the dirtiest human street thug to the fanciest Blue Culture Leader. So I figured out how to travel between worlds. I learned how to wear my authority among criminals, how to carry myself like a badass and dress in backless tops to show off my scales. I learned how to pass professionally too. I learned the art of demurely blending into polite company dressed in my business best and how to draw empty attention wearing something femme and flirty. Become a quiet functionary or a harmless piece of eye candy.” Halley searches blindly for me, “I was good at it too. It’s amazing how much potential we Halleys have if we just get going…”

“So how does the Serpent’s personal courier end up limbless in the Sexbox?”

Halley-18 smiles with an edge, “Because I learned something about Halley-Prime.”

Here we go. “I’m all ears.”

“That’s a weird body mod choice, but who am I to judge?” She wiggles helplessly.

My facial vulva try and tug into a grin, “You have no idea.”

Halley-18 squints as if she might be able to see and pouts. “Teasing the blind… and people think I’m the mean one.”

“I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.”

“Oh! Is it interesting?”

I stroke a finger along my slick pussymouth and shiver, “I think you’ll like it.”

Halley chews her lip and arches her back, lifting up her breasts. “You better not be teasing…” she purrs helplessly.

I feel my face blush in embarrassed arousal. This is getting out of hand but, “I’ll give you a special kiss if you tell me what you learned about Halley-Prime.”

Halley-18’s face scrunches up in thoughtful suspicion before relaxing in surrender. “Deal.” Halley sighs, “I’ve always been too curious for my own good.”

“You and me both…”

Halley-18 smiles thinly, “One day Krait came to my little bolthole apartment with a Special Assignment. Well, all of my jobs were special assignments, but this one was unusual.”

“Unusual how?”

“It was way, way out in the Junk Desert. Which was weird. My courier work took me all over the city and occasionally into the outskirts, but I’d never been sent out into the Deep Scraplands. Who was even out there? Why did they need to send a Courier? The Syndicate has tame Salvagers, experienced Junk Desert teams, why not use them? Why me?” Halley shakes her head, “It didn’t make any sense. So I asked, and the funny thing is Krait actually answered. She smiled too, mischievously, conspiratorially, and told me that someone found The Black Box.”

“The what?”

“The Memory Crystal of the craft that abducted us from the Trailer Park.”


Halley nods her head and smiles with fang, “Exactly. It seems some Scavenger way out in the Junk found a fresh crash site, the wreckage from a modern Tall White Corsair that maybe spent a little time near Earth. The Scavenger told Dealers, the Dealers told Brokers, and the Brokers told the Syndicate. And when The Serpent learned the Memory Crystal was intact, she decided she wanted it.”

“Why? What does a crime lord care about Halley-Prime?”

“According to Krait: nothing. The Serpent gives zero fucks about some Earthling orphan girl and her disappearance. There’s no profit in that. No clout. No power,” Halley-18 shakes her head and wets her lips. “Instead The Serpent wanted evidence of who hired Tall White mercenaries to abduct us. Kidnapping Native Earthlings interferes with the Earth Experiment, which is a giant fucking big no-no. It violates an Accord between all the big players: The Grey, The Blue Meta-Assembly, The Reptilian Houses, The Annunaki, The-Guardians-Who-Remain-Behind, The Uplifted, The Undine High Confluence, The Free Human Diaspora In Aggregate, The Aquarian Court, The August, The Plejarens, The Nordic Clans, The-One-Who-Was-Many, The Agarti, The Exiled, and so on. Even The White Assembly signed the thing, and they’re basically piratical anarchists. Whoever paid for the abduction totally fucked up, and The Serpent wanted Leverage. And so she sent me out into the Junk to purchase the Memory Crystal.”

“Awfully convenient sending a Halley to get dirt on Halley…”

Halley-18 shrugs her armless shoulders, “I was The Serpent’s trusted courier; it was a coincidence not a conspiracy.”

I smirk with my eyes, “Other than the conspiracy to blackmail some rich aliens.”


“So what happened?”

“I went and got the thing, obviously. To keep things quiet I posed as another Halley, Halley-13, one of the more misadventurous Scavengers in our cohort, and rented a shitty old Skimmer from some dodgy Outfitter. Then I spent a long bad week hauling ass into the Junk to the rendezvous: some crappy little capsule shack on the edge of a blasted out debris field. I landed on the perimeter and was met by this grizzled old human prospector. He was albino pale and wrinkled and wore black welding goggles over his eyes and had strange metal implants covered in fractal etchings. If I had to guess he was an exile from an Agarti planet. He had the stoop of a tunnel dweller, y’know?” Halley-18’s eyes squinted like she was looking at something. “The Scavenger confirmed he'd already gotten his payment so I smiled my charming best and asked for the package. The Scavenger held up the Memory Crystal, a heart sized cube of smoked glass. The man glanced back at his shack where I saw something like a lobster centaur with so many feelers move in the shadows. He worked his jaw and asked if this squared his other debt, and I nodded, told him that once I delivered the goods to my Matron all would be forgiven. The Scavenger smiled yellow and broken and handed me the Memory Crystal. I hurried back to the Skimmer, hit the skies, and gunned it for home.”

“So what did the Memory Crystal say?”

Halley-18 frowns, “I never found out. Krait met me as soon as I pulled into the city and marched me straight to The Dragon’s Pyramid.”

“Right to the boss herself.”

“Yeah, which was also weird. I’d always worked directly for Krait and been kept at a distance. I’d never actually met The Serpent or been inside her citadel.” Halley bites her lip and wiggles. “This was a major change.”

“When we reached the Pyramid, Krait brought me to a hidden entrance that led down below the palace, down into the labyrinth. The corridors were a maze, but Krait knew exactly where to go, her boots clicking on the stone floor and her hair rattles hissing. The air was heavy with humidity and uncomfortably warm. I could feel the weight of the building all around me, pressing down on me, making me claustrophobic. I clutched the Memory Crystal in my hands so tightly it hurt.”

Halley-18 pauses to take a few calming breaths. is she upset? I rest my hand on her smooth shoulder and she startles, and then smiles a little. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

“I was brought to a small bare room with a plain steel table and a chair that was bolted to the floor. It looked like an interrogation room. I felt a sudden spike of fear, turned to leave, but Krait put her hands on my shoulders and stopped me. Sssit she hissed. So I sat in the chair, swallowed, and tried not to look fucking scared. Krait studied me, a small smile on her lips, and asked for the Memory Crystal. I handed it to her and she left the room, left me there alone, hands and fingers twisting in knots.” Halley-18 swallows, “And then a voice hissed into the room: Exsssssscellent work. I sat up startled, glanced around, saw I was still alone. The voice grunted a laugh and I breathlessly asked if it was my Matron. Yessssss. I asked why I was there. The Serpent paused and told me: I hate loossssse endsssss. My heart hammered in my chest and my throat gagged with fear. I was starting to panic. I clutched the steel table with my trembling scaled hands. I promised The Serpent that I could keep a secret! That I’d never tell a soul! That she could trust me! Trussssst is for Foolssssss. The door opened and Krait came back into the room. She was carrying something. A thin rectangle. An envelope. An envelope covered in poisonous white and red and yellow stripes. My envelope. Krait carefully opened the envelop and cautiously drew out a single sheet of paper, her eyes intently cast away. I whimpered, looked around for an escape and then back at Krait just in time to see her hold the paper up toward me.” Halley-18 is panting and beaded with sweat.

I squeezed her shoulder again, “Wh-what was it?”

“A pattern.” Halley whispered. “A pattern of such hypnotic perfection that I couldn’t look away. It snared me through my eyes and I fell deep into it, perfectly still and staring…” She bit a trembling lip, “It was only for a moment but I felt something in my mind slip, realign, change somehow. I’d become different, new in some way I couldn’t quite explain, but I knew something was wrong… that I was wrong! That I was incorrect! That I wasn’t what I should be!” Halley looks at me with wide sightless eyes, a frantic passion on her face. “There was too much of me! I was too complex! I held up my hands, my hideous, awful hands. I screamed! What had I become!? I was frantic! Help me! Help! I wailed at Krait who stared at me in fright. Fix me! Make me pure! Interessssting my Matron hissed. I screamed again! I wanted to smash the table, but every movement was a reminder of how I was wrong! Fucking fix me!”

Halley-18’s tiny body is heaving. “And then the cell door opened again and another woman joined us. Fix me, I pleaded. She had mousey brown hair and no mouth, just smooth skin below her nose. Her eyes were hard and blazed with something like hatred. Help me, I begged. Her nostrils flared and she nodded. She took me by my hands and I recoiled, repulsed by their existence, but the woman held on tight. Suddenly a soothing warmth started to flow down my hated limbs. I gasped and watched as my fingers turned to wax, boneless and loose and flowed into my palms. Joy filled me as the warmth grew and my hands melted into my wrists, into my arms, into my shoulders.” Halley smiles in bliss, flexes her armless shoulders and sighs. “My terrible arms were gone.”

“But that wasn’t enough! I needed more! My horrific complexity needed to be excised! More I wailed! The woman, the Shaper, nodded and reached out for my legs. My heart leapt in my chest as she placed my feet up onto the table and dissolved them into my body. I was limbless!” Halley smiles at me deliriously. “I felt so much better! Cleaner, refined, purified. But it still wasn’t enough! I was still so wrong. I needed to be concentrated more. More! More I moaned! No, the Serpent said to us, That’sssss enough. No I gasped in dismay. Disappointment flashed in the Shaper’s eyes. Releassssse her, The Serpent hissed, I want to sssee how thisss playsss out. Krait asked, but what if she talks? Sssshe won’t. But Matron… Do not quessstion my motivessss. And then I was being bundled out of the room, tears streaking down my face. Disgusted with myself. Good luck my little Glassss Sssnake.”

“Jesus fuck… what the fuck happened?”

Halley-18 swallows and tries to regain her composure. “It’s called a memetic weapon,” she said with a husky voice. “Humans were created as servants, and our minds have an operating system. That pattern in the envelope was an exploit, a conceptual weapon designed to rewrite the mind to want a kind of oblivion.” Halley smiles thinly. “Clem and HAL-E did all they could for me. They brought psychics to fix my mind, but the Memetic Weapon had cut too deep, changed the fundamentals too profoundly for them to help. HAL-E created a Counter Pattern, an anti-meme, and it stopped me wanting to fade away to nothing, but some of the damage was permanent. I still want to be reduced, to be limbless and helpless and small. It’s who I am now. Clem tried to regrow my limbs but I refused, fought her, begged to be reduced further instead, which she wouldn’t do.” Halley sighed.

I nodded, everything was making a certain kind of sense now. “How did you end up in the Sexbox?”

Halley licks her lips and flexes her quadruple amputee body provocatively.  “A girl’s gotta eat.”

“There must have been other options…”

Halley-18 frowns, “I don’t want other options! I’m a fuck toy, a plaything, an object. I love it! I love the feeling of being held down and fucked like a wet and willing hole.” Halley closes her eyes and tilts her head back, “Or being teased for hours, unable to resist, kissed and sucked and prodded and fucked until someone pulls out moments before I orgasm, just to cum all over my face and chest and down into the seam between my abs.” Halley squirms lewdly and I shiver, appalled and aroused at once. “If anything I want more! To be squeezed down further, reduced to just a pair of hips with an ass and tits and a mouth and a pussy. To be blind and deaf and mute and nothing but horny to be fucked. To be only a fuck toy instead of this halfway thing. To be someone’s belonging.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“The cost,” Halley-18 slumps back on her bed. “That kind of extreme Shaping doesn’t come cheap.”

I nod and touch the vulva on my face. I know what it’s like to be forcefully changed and try to embrace it, and what it’s like to still be dissatisfied with my body. How we both got here isn’t really important, it’s about this moment and moving onto the next. If Halley is happy as a living sex toy, who am I to judge? I gently touch Halley-18 and run my finger down her body, starting at her chin, down along her neck, between her tits, down her firm stomach, and stopping on the smooth swell of her pubic mound. Halley shivers and sighs. “So you don’t actually know what was in that Memory Crystal?”

“No.” Halley says, pressing her crotch against my finger. “Probably the only Sapient that knows is the Serpent herself.”

I lean down to Halley-18, press my forehead to hers for a moment, “Thank you.” I close my eyes and kiss her, pushing my pussymouth to her lips, engulfing her mouth and nose in my vulva, rubbing my clit against the spine of her nose. Her sightless eyes go wide in surprise as I pull back, her face slick and wet with my juices. “Fuck me,” she whispers.

“Take care of yourself,” I say to her and scan the room for a distressed Halley-16 so that I can leave.

I think I found what I was looking for.


To be continued.


Re: Flotsam

God I think that's arguably one of the most fucked up things that's happened in the story so far.


Re: Flotsam

Chapter 23: https://indigocarminefiction.blogspot.c … er-23.html

Chapter 23: Gan Ceann

I hear excited barking as I step through the rusty metal gate into the little courtyard. Sceolàn appears, bounding to me like a joyful rocket, tail wagging furiously. The blue and lavender doggirl skids to a stop and jumps up at me, happy to see me, paws kicking, tongue lashing, frantic for affection. “Down girl,” I laugh, gently warding her off, hand accidentally grabbing one of her eight tits in the process. “I’m happy to see you too! But down! Sit!” Sceolàn obediently relents and I ruffle her floofy ears. “Good girl.” I guess I’m in the right place.

“I don’t know if this means anything to you, but mission accomplished.” Sceolàn tilts her head and looks at me with somber blank canine attention. The Agent isn’t home yet. I pet her neck and think about what to do next. Should I just walk in?

The instructions told me to come here, up into the Terraces, to this house in one of the most desirable tiers on the Mesa. The house, or small mansion really, is handsome and made of smooth stone blocks with patinated metal accents. It’s quite modernist, with precise clean lines that scream Architectural Opinions. The small courtyard is smart too, filled in with crushed slate shingle and flanked by planters with precisely arranged flowers in golds and oranges and purples. Nothing about the house is flashy, but it’s all obviously expensive in a restrained way that I’m finding a little intimidating. Sceolàn licks my fingers and I blow a breath through my pussy. “Oh girl, what am I doing here?”

Sceolàn sits up and blinks at me with sudden human intellect in her eyes, “Finding answers I hope.”

I yank my hand back, surprised at the sudden switch from doggy to agent. “Oh, hi.”

“You don’t have to stop petting me,” Sceolàn says, “I still really like it.” Her tail wags and she butts her furry head against my hand. “And it makes for good cover.”

I roll my eyes sensing a con job, but oblige, scritching her ears and neck. “I think I found what we were looking for in the Sexbox, but it’s complicated.”

Sceolàn shakes her head and touches me with a forepaw to stop me. “Don’t tell me. My Master wishes to debrief you personally.”

“Your Master?”

Sceolàn nods, “Gan Ceann.” She points with her snout like a hunting dog toward the mansion. “Just head inside.”

I take a calming breath, “Okay.” I give Sceolàn a big farewell pat, “It was nice to see you again…” but the agent is already gone. Sceolàn the dog barks and rolls onto her back, presenting her tits and cock, and wiggles impatiently for belly rubs. “Sorry girl.” She whines and rolls back over, sadly watches me walk away.

As I approach the heavy steel door to the mansion I look myself over, straightening my grey dress and checking for muddy pawprints and stray dog hairs. I push my hair back into place and make sure my grey facemask is seated right. The door slides open silently as I approach. “Okay, Halley. Okay.”

I step into a posh foyer with marble floors and stone columns and thoughtful recessed lighting. The walls are a clean white and hung with articles of scrap, striking examples of salvage that are discolored by corrosion and oxidation. It’s extremely tasteful and a flex, worthless objects found and elevated, treasured for their beauty instead of their value. At the end of the hallway a chrome femmebot waits for me, its fetishistic metallic body in a pose of idealized patience. The black visor on its face watches me approach passively, embossed lips sensually neutral. “I’m here,” I say.

The robot nods its head and beckons me to follow. It turns elegantly and struts down a hallway, its metal heels clicking brightly on the marble. I stumble after it, trying to keep up with its immaculate long legged stride. We turn a corner and bump into a well dressed man who gives me a long, scrutinizing look. He is tall and thin and has severely slicked down black hair. He’s wearing a black tailored jacket, something like a marching band blazer, and a severe white shirt with an upturned collar that hides his throat. He's also wearing silver metal eyeglasses, the first I’ve seen on Flotsam. The lenses flash with sourceless reflections and the man smirks at me knowingly, like he’s in on a joke and I’m not. The femmebot marches us past the man and down another hallway to a pair of inlaid wooden doors. The doors silently open and the silvery robot woman gestures for me to enter.

I step into a large room that has to be some sort of library. The chamber is lined with beautiful wooden shelves filled with leather bound books and the floor of the room is done in a lovely parquet pattern in contrasting wooden planks. I’m shocked, this is the most wood I’ve ever seen on Flotsam and must have cost a fortune to import to a world without trees. Or at least trees that aren’t also parasitic biological computers full of nymphomaniac minds. Even if the books aren’t actually paper, this room is a real show of wealth. I’m suitably wowed. The femmebot walks away and the door shuts behind me.

I take a few cautious steps into the library looking for someone Gan Ceann shaped. I frown, not immediately spotting anyone. Large windows at the far side of the room provide natural light and a killer view out over the Mesa. Near the windows is a pair of tall leather chairs and a wooden end table, the only furniture in the grand room. I slowly walk over to the chairs, still searching for my host. The chairs are fancy oxblood leather and the polished wooden table has a decanter of blue liquor and a pair of crystal tumblers. There’s also an open book on the table, which is actually made of paper and oddly blank. Some sort of journal? I look around the library at all the identical volumes and wonder. What kind of library is this? I shake my head, curious but uncertain. I seem to be alone, which probably means I’m stuck waiting. I sit lightly on the edge of a chair and smooth the skirt of my dress, fiddle with the earstraps of my mask. It’s okay, I can wait.

I sit for a while, trying not to fidget and resisting the urge to go leaf through some books. That seems like it’s probably frowned upon. I tap my hands on my thighs. The decanter of booze might be a safe bet. Maybe I could pour myself a couple stiff fingers? A bit of liquid courage? I could make myself comfortable, casually swirl my drink when Gan Ceann finally appears, and then lift the drink to my exposed facial vulva and dribble hooch all down the front of my dress. So probably not that either. I gaze out the tall windows, take in the panorama of Flotsam unfolding below and the Junk Desert on the horizon. At least the view is nice.

I notice sudden movement and turn frantically! Someone is in the library with me! That quiet door! My heart starts to race. Fuck! I search the room in a hurry and spot them, or maybe it, since it seems to be another kinky automaton, a different type than the chrome femmebot. This new robot looks like a headless nude woman made of seamless black latex. The robot body ends smoothly at the shoulders without the hint of a neck or head, just a smooth cutoff above the clavicles. Below the shoulders the body is lean and lithe and seems almost organic, its muscles and pert breasts moving as if it’s alive. The kinky robot minces around the room on extreme stiletto ballet heels and is brandishing a feather duster. I guess it's some kind of maidbot? "Hey, hello," I try with a wave, but the headless body ignores me and starts dusting the bookshelf as if it were an extremely porny roomba.

Okay, I’m still waiting but now I’m sharing the room with a sexy maid. That’s weird, but at least I've got something to watch now? I track the headless maidbot as it works its way along the shelf dusting books, taking tiny steps and stretching coquettishly to reach the trickiest places with the feather duster. Which has to be made of dust snatching future fabric, right? Space-swiffer. Unless this is all for show. The maidbot turns its back to me and bends way down low to clean a bottom shelf and I’m given provocative proof that the robot is anatomically correct. It obliviously wags its ass as it works, giving me quite the view of its black latex pussy, complete with black latex vulva and black latex clitoris. I shiver, it seems this particular kinky robot is built for more than one kind of service. What kind of pervert has a headless maidbot plumbed for sex? Or trots out their sextoy for their business guests? I think of the smug man in the hallway and frown, what kind of bullshit have I gotten myself into? I look at the door to the library, “Fuck this, I should just go.”

“Why is that?” Asks a too familiar voice. I hear the clatter of the feather duster hitting the parquet floor and turn to see the headless maidbot walking towards me with a newly confident strut. “We haven’t had a chance to talk.”

I blush, feeling duped. “Gan Ceann, I presume?”

“Naturally.” The headless woman sits gracefully in the empty leather chair and leans back, casually crossing her long legs. “But you can call me Halley-12.”

I sigh, because of course she is. Yet another weirdly altered Halley, with no doubt another sexy misadventure. I suck on my face pussy thoughtfully, how is she even talking to me? No, how is she even alive!? What the fuck happened to her? Did she choose this? “You must have questions,” headless Halley-12 purrs somehow.

Okay, one thing at a time. “Why Gan Ceann?”

Halley-12 sets an elbow on the armchair and tilts her hand as if she were about to rest her non-existent head on it. “Do you remember when we had that Irish Folklore kick?”

I frown, and yeah, I kind of do. It was when I was still a girl in the Catholic Orphanage. I somehow got fixated on fairies and one of the nuns, an Irish one, Sister Mary O’Something, lent me a book about folklore. Of course when the other nuns learned I was reading a pagan book we were both punished, but I remember secretly cherishing the stories of magic in it. Gan Ceann… “that means ‘without a head’, right?”

The headless body claps her hands. “Bravo!”

“Clever.” Gan Ceann was one of the names for the headless horseman, so it was pretty apt. “Why not Dullahan?”

Halley-12 clutches her armrests and leans forward, giving me a great view of her tits and prominent black latex nipples. “Because there are too many wayward Earthling girls running around who might recognize it.” Her empty shoulders tilt, “It’s a dead giveaway.”

I nod, yeah I probably would’ve caught that one. Okay, now for the bigger question, “What’s your deal? Why are you…?”

The body somehow looks amused. “Why did I lose my head?”

“Yeah, that.”

“The short answer is I’m a prisoner.”

Prisoner!? I think of the man in the hallway and Halley’s sexy maid routine. Was she being held against her will? Was I? I look at the heavy doors out of the library and feel a pang of anxiety. “Are you trapped here?” I ask too urgently.

“In a manner of speaking.” Halley laughs, “But not in the way you’re worried about.” She leans forward conspiratorially, like she might be about to whisper somehow. Her voice murmurs, “I’ve actually escaped. I’m on the lam.”

I frown, “I don’t understand.”

Halley-12 sits up, “It’s more fun if I show you.” She holds out an arm wearing a Keyband, a seamless silver bracelet perfectly encircling her wrist. The silver band blubs off a mercury bubble that rises into the air and I realize it’s Grey technology, like the HAL-E choker that let’s me talk. The blob of floating mercury becomes a donut that stretches into a wire thin silver circle. The object floats over and lands in my outstretched hands. It feels cool and too solid for how delicate it looks. “Put that on your head,” Halley-12 instructs.

I look at the headless woman skeptically. “Please,” she says, “I entertain so few guests these days.”

I begrudgingly slip the silver circlet over my head and feel it contract to snugly fit my skull. “Okay…” And suddenly I’m somewhere else, behind a desk in a nice looking lobby. My hands rest on a polished stone desk and fidget in a way that I can feel but not control. “What is this?” I ask, the sensation of speaking at odds with this reality where I’m silently manning a front desk.

“It’s a memory,” Halley-12's voice appears like a narrator. “A byproduct of my condition is that I can share my sensorium, so you can enjoy the highest fidelity Halley-vision.”

“Great…” I mutter as I experience the thrill of being a bored receptionist. “Where am I exactly?”

“Welcome to my old day job: the receptionist for a Flotsam-based importer-exporter called Nodal Logistics Innovations.” In my vision I drum nicely manicured nails on the desktop and then adjust my silky cream blouse. I can feel myself resisting the urge to hum. “It was honestly not very interesting, but the pay was okay, and it was a good starter job for an Earthling without a college degree.”

I hear a digital chime and look up filled with excitement. Finally someone! A dorky looking human man with slicked down hair and silver rimmed glasses. I recognize him, both in Halley-12’s memory and my own. It’s the smug man from the hallway. He walks up to the reception desk and shyly says “Hi.” I blush and shyly reply “Hi”.

“This is Samonavar Thalk,” Halley-12 narrates, “A business associate of my boss, some sort of specialized brokerage consultant that we hired for sensitive cargoes. It was all above my pay grade and interstellar logistics remains very dull to me.”

My borrowed sensorium cuts like a movie to Samonavar bringing me a bouquet of unfamiliar flowers. “We started to date,” Halley-12 reports as my vision cycles through memories. A nice dinner with a view at an upscale Terrace restaurant. An intimate stroll in a Blue wind chime garden. Sipping tea and enjoying live music, something like jazz played by a big band of sapients I don't recognize. A dressy evening at an art gallery. “It was nice. Sam was a perfect gentleman and had money. He took me on grown up dates to fancy places, and he was always such a sweetheart and adorable dork. He reminded me of a more successful Clem.”

“I feel a but coming…”

I get a brief, intense flash of intercourse. Me lying on my back in a luxurious bed with a man fucking me missionary style. It feels good, but I can tell from the memory that I’m a little bored by how vanilla it is. “The sex was just okay,” Halley-12 confirms, “straightforward and fine, but not very exciting.”

The memory cuts out and I gasp, feel my pussies both flush in sudden arousal. “Fuck, warn a girl,” I say while hoping my facial pussy doesn’t start to drool under my mask.

“Sorry,” Halley-12 says unapologetically. “There was also another guy.” The memory shifts to a rough looking apartment block assembled from crudely stacked starship hulls, like mismatched building blocks arranged by a giant child. I enter through an old airlock and trudge up a flight of rickety steel stairs, fumble out analogue keys to unlock a weathered bulkhead door, and enter a tiny studio apartment with a cot and a hot plate. I sigh and feel a weird mix of relief and disdain to be home in my rented shithole. I step out of my kitten heels, drop my purse to the floor, and hear a knock on my apartment door. I cautiously open it and see an albino pale man wearing a black spacers jacket and dark welding-goggles over his eyes. His angular face is strikingly handsome and his mane of undercut white hair is glorious. I feel a thrill of excitement and arousal and pull him inside for a passionate kiss. His mouth tastes like a drug I don’t recognize and he smells like machinery. I very much want to fuck him. “This is my neighbor Jakk.”

I experience another dating montage of memories, this time starring Jakk. Getting drunk together on the tenement steps over a box of ricey takeout. Doing Bliss and watching something like a B-movie, giggling our asses off. Going to see his band play in a shitty bar, then fucking him backstage like a groupie. Having rough sex in his top floor apartment, giving anal underneath a domed skylight, pain and pleasure mixed together. Coming hard in the faint red light and feeling deliciously dirty. “Jakk was a Spacer who did something shady up in orbit and spent his time planetside partying. He was beautiful and bad news and the total opposite of Sam and Clem in a way I found intoxicating. We partied and did drugs and fucked like savages. I knew it wasn’t going to end well, but I was totally in lust for him.”

I can feel the echo of that lust in my body, a growing ache of my own. I try to calm down, focus. “Since I passed Sam in the hallway I assume the wild ride with Jakk didn’t last.”

“No,” Halley-12 said with a sigh, “It really didn’t…”


I’m cuddled up with Samonavar on the roof of his house waiting for the lanterns to launch. We’re drinking wine, actual-made-from-grapes vino, something basically rosé. I know it’s expensive and that it had to be imported from off planet. I suspect it’s actually a really nice vintage. I take a sip and since my past experience with wine was either sacramental or boxed, I really have no clue. It tastes nice? Notes of rose petals and honeydew? Fancy grape juice? It’s definitely a nice gesture. I snuggle up to Sam under the blanket and take in the strange view of Flotsam blacked-out at night. It’s spooky seeing the usually brightly lit city in total darkness, even if it is for a once a year festival. “What’s the story behind the lanterns?”

Sam snuggles me back and loops an arm around my shoulder, “No one entirely knows how it began. The best we can do is speculate.”

“Okay,” I say, disappointed.

“I do have a favourite version, though.”

“Tell! Tell!”

“Lantern Night began with a Child, or so it’s told. No one knows if it was a boy or a girl or a Blue or another sapient, but all the versions agree they were very young.” Sam fiddles with his glasses, “The Child’s Parent was a Salvager, or maybe a Scavenger, but definitely someone who worked out on The Junk. The Parent would go out on expeditions, would spend weeks traversing the desert, and the Child would miss them terribly.”

“The Child started to make flying lanterns to send to their Parent, really just simple polymer bags fitted with a candle for light and just enough hot air to float. The Child would paint the lanterns with simple messages of love and maybe drawings of animals. At night they would launch the finished lanterns from high up on the Mesa; give birth a single low flying star carrying a child’s love.”

“That’s sweet.”

Sam smiles and blushes, “Quite. I’m sure the Parent rarely ever saw them, but I’m sure they indulgently lied and cherished the thought of it.” Sam clears his throat, “Regardless, the folklore says that one day there was a terrible Rust Storm, the worst the planet had seen in generations, and too ferociously sudden to avoid. They say half the Salvagers on the planet were caught in it, including the Parent. Some Salvagers returned, battered but able to limp home. Others died, torn apart by a wind pregnant with razor-sharp debris, claimed by The Junk. Yet many others were lost, their equipment too compromised to wayfind a route home. The City organized search parties, but fears about atmospheric uncertainty and another Rust Storm kept everyone hunkered down.”

“The Child was terrified and was desperate to help the Parent. The Child started to frantically build flying lanterns: ten, twenty, thirty, and launched them every night to guide their Parent home. The Child's closest friends joined in, and then their classmates, and then their neighbors. Soon the night sky was filled with hundreds of lanterns. Strangers started to join in from all over the city, from all different backgrounds and species, all building lanterns. The night sky filled with lanterns, thousands of them, rising together like a distributed beacon and drifting lazily away from the Mesa.”

“The lost Salvagers and Scavengers of The Junk started to notice the lanterns at night and began to use them as lodestars to find their way home.” Sam smiled, “And of course the Parent made it home safely and was reunited with the Child.” Sam blushes, “It’s fanciful and sentimental, but I rather enjoy it.”

“It’s very cute,” I agree, meaning him as much as the story.

“These days Lantern Night is about honouring all the Salvagers who never made it home and wishing safe travels to everyone who still works in The Junk.”

“That sounds like a great tradition.” I give Sam a peck on his cheek, “Thanks for telling me the story.”

“Of course.” Sam points to the city where dozens of little lights are appearing. “I believe it’s time.”

We untangle from our blanket and scramble to set up our lanterns. Sam carefully lights the candles while I hold the decorated plastic bags up so they don’t burn. The lanterns start to inflate and glow which shows off our designs: a shitty jack-o-lantern smile on mine and an uncanny owl on Sam’s. He’s never seen an owl before and tried to draw one from my description, making up something charmingly wrong like a medieval etching. The lanterns start to float away and Sam and I hold our lanterns by strings as if they are kites. I look around and see everyone else in the city has launched their lanterns too, that the Flotsam Mesa has sprouted a constellation of tiny lights. I smile at Sam and he smiles back. I’m having such a great time. The lanterns, the rooftop picnic, the afternoon doing arts and crafts, the gently pleasant lovemaking, it’s been a total hoot. But I always have fun with Sam, he’s really grown into my best friend. I gently bite my lip, I think I might be in love with him? Oh Jesus, should I tell him? Is this what I want?

So what if the sex is just fine? Not bad, just fine. Lots of people settle for a happy life with a good partner and a less than totally toe-curling, mind-blowing, finger-nail-scars-on-the-back exciting sex life. Sam makes me feel happy and safe and secure. Shouldn’t that be enough? A life spent with him would be comfortable and affluent in a way I’ve never had before. Isn’t that worth trading some orgasms for? I could maybe teach him to like some kinky stuff, get him to talk dirty and spank me when I’m a bad bad girl. I could settle down with him and try living a conventional normie life. Cohabitate in his beautiful home. Maybe even start a family.

Do I even want kids? Does he?

Sam clears his throat. "After you," he says with a gentle smile. I grin back at him and we both let go of our lantern strings, sending our little hot air balloons skyward and free. All around us other sapients are releasing their own lanterns in bunches, clusters of lights rushing up and away like flocks of glowing birds. The sky fills with lanterns, some with warm yellow candle glows, others with weirder blue or green or vibrant red light, some small and simple, others large and creatively shaped, but all of them drifting up, up, and away. It’s like watching a universe being born into existence. I gasp and clutch onto Sam, feeling a true sense of wonder, maybe for the first time in my freshly cloned life. “Wow...”

“Indeed,” he says giving me a squeeze.

We stand and quietly watch the lanterns drift skyward, get caught in a breeze, and start to float away from the city and out over the Junk Desert in a lazy disorganized cloud. “You’re going to have to make a choice,” Sam says quietly.


“Between me and that other bloke you’re seeing.”

Oh fuck. How does Sam know about Jakk? I open my mouth to say something, to deny or protest or apologize or plead.

Sam smiles cooly and raises a hand, “It’s not a problem. Obviously, I’d rather you were only courting me, but we never agreed to be exclusive.” He takes his glasses off and looks at me seriously, “I really like you, 12th Clone of Halley Rochelle Houston, and I think we could take this to the next level. But to do that I require a commitment from you.” His face is completely focused, with an unexpected intensity that I find myself a little turned on by, “We are past the time for half measures.”


I’m laying naked on Jakk’s bed puffing on a vaporizer. My pussy and asshole ache in the best way and I’m floating on post coital hormones and the mellow high of Jack’s favourite blend. To be honest, I don’t usually like it. I find it’s bitter wintergreen and mineral taste unpleasant and the high a bit too introspective and melancholy. I preferred the idiotic giddy thrill of Bliss or the warm silliness of canabis, but Jakk says this rock lichen stuff reminds him of home. Tonight it feels like the right chemical mixture, the perfect pharmacological beat for saying goodbye.

I prop myself up on my elbows and look at Jakk, who is seated on the bed, his albino white skin bright like a beacon even in the dark red light of his room. I smile wistfully and look over the lean musculature of his back, his wiry arms, his long fingers. He notices me watching and smiles, thin cheeks dimpling, and I feel my heart skip. Fuck, I love this asshole! This delicious mess of a man, all chaos and party and fuck tomorrow, followed by half explained absence. He makes me feel fun and crazy and breathlessly turned on. He fucks me like a demon. I wet my lips and savor the pleasant soreness radiating from my cunt, I could just stay on this carnival ride forever. I frown, but that isn’t the plan. This was meant to be a goodbye fuck. I know there’s no future here. Jakk lives too hard and too in the moment for us to build a life together. Sure it’s fun right now, but what happens in a year? Two? Will a rockstar lover still be fun when the times get leaner or the drugs get harder? The thing about rollercoasters is that they inevitably go downhill. Fast. Leaving Jakk is the right thing to do. Even if it sucks.

I take another hit off the vape and feel gritty bitterness in my lungs. If only there was a way to like, merge Jakk and Sam, create a man with Sam’s kindness and stability and Jakk’s edge and cock. Invent a perfect creature for me to love and fuck instead of a compromise. Halley wants her cake and her outrageous orgasms too! Is that so much to ask? I exhale a cloud of chalky fumes. Maybe I can circle back to Jakk in a few years? That’s what bored rich housewives do, right? Be a good girl for a couple years, give monogamy with Sam a serious shot, and if the sex stays boring, try out an affair. Jakk has got to have fucked a spouse or three in his day, what’s one more? Am I a total slut for thinking this? I should probably get this over with before I commit to something dumb: “Hey, Jakk…”


“I think we need to talk…”

“Uh oh,” Jakk says with a grin, “I recognize where this tunnel leads.” He shakes his glorious mane of white hair. “What if we fuck instead?”

I giggle nervously, “You can’t possibly be ready to go again.”

“Are you really calling my bluff?” He puts a hand to his chest, wounded.

In a way, I guess I am. “Jakk…”

He sighs, looks up through the dirty domed skylight of his shitty little studio, and snaps his fingers. “Hales,” he says with a playful grin, “Have you ever wanted to fuck in Space?”


Jakk is holding my hand and guiding me through the Spaceport airfield. We are surrounded by parked spacecraft! Spaceships! Close enough to touch! Fuck me! I want to be cool, but I’m almost vibrating with excitement! Holy shit! I’m going to space! Ahhh!

I gawk at all the spacecraft. The vehicles are parked in rows, all lined up as if for presentation at an air show. There are Blue ships, smooth and organic like sea creatures, painted in dappled technicolor, no two exactly alike. There are Reptilian shuttles and traders, sleek arrowheads or fallen obelisks of reflective black onyx. We pass a long row of dull metallic dodecahedron pods resting on struts like banal moon landers. I watch a shining white disk ship that looks way too much like a UFO swooping in to land next to a human-crewed pewter craft shaped like a cigar. There is a ship seemingly made entirely of sharpened crystals. The spacecraft are mostly relatively small, the size of a private jet or tugboat maybe, but they are a crazed mix of technology and origins, like an eccentric prized collection. I grin stupidly like a tourist and Jakk tugs on my hand to move me along.

We have to stop though, pause while a long train of carts zips by like airport luggage. Nearby a pair of humans weld and tinker inside the open cowling of a ship, a triangular craft made of sharp angled planes, like an extra large stealth bomber prototype. A troop of Ürnauts stomp along in precise formation, their armoured bodies kitted out for combat patrol, improbably large futuristic weapons in hand. One of their number blankly regards us with its smooth metal face. Huge cubes of semi-compacted scarp metal trundle along on a gigantic conveyor, carried towards the huge silo-like scrap Lifters on the edge of the Mesa. Quicksilver Grey drones race through the air, a diffuse but watchful customs service. Something like a giant robotic beetle marches to a waiting Blue ground crew holding out an umbilical from their manta ray spacecraft. With a loud rumble I can feel in my bones one of the huge Lifters lifts off, its tail a sun-bright cone of plasma. I shield my eyes and watch it climb up and up and up and up forever into Space. Fuck! That’s going to be me!

Jakk leads us to an area of the airfield dominated by human ships. I rubberneck at a heavily armed wedge-shaped craft that makes me think of an attack helicopter crossed with an army landing boat. It's scarred and scorched and decorated with brightly painted runes. A group of four-armed humans wearing battle armor are loading it with supplies, so it must be Nordic. A rogue dissonant thought intrudes and I think about Freya and wonder what her ship looks like. But we’ve already moved on, past a row of increasingly dilapidated ships, until Jakk stops and gestures like a crooked showman, “Yo! The Condor!”

I blink, the Condor is a piece of crap. It looks like an Earthling space shuttle: a boxy aircraft fuselage mounted to wide delta wings. The craft is painted an unattractive grey and is filthy and charred in spots, showing the wear and tear of age and frequent use. On the stern where a NASA shuttle would have rocket nozzles, The Condor has a weird inverted-Y shaped contraption, some sort of futuristic drive, but otherwise it looks like something that could be from Earth. I feel a little disappointed. “Is this it?”

Jakk shrugs, “Eh, what were you expecting? A Reptilian Matron’s pleasure yacht?”

I frown at the rusty grime on the nosecone, “Is this thing safe?”

Jakk gives me a look, “Do you wanna go to space or not?”

“Okay, sorry.”

“Then climb aboard,” Jakk says merrily, showing me to an open airlock and helping me up a short ladder. He pulls the ladder up after us and seals the airlock door. Then he leads us through a tight corridor and into the cramped cockpit.

“Yar, you’re late,” Says an incredibly fat human. The man gurns with yellow teeth and his cybernetic left eye glows a dull red. The man is heavily scarred and his left hand is a mechanical prosthesis. I blink and realize that the man also has no legs, that the chair he's resting on is actually built into him, a kind of crabby robotic walker. The fat man is hunched over a nest of holographic interfaces and mechanical controls so he must be our pilot. The pilot leers at me, “And ya brought another poppet…”

Jakk sighs, “This is Aggie”

“Agamemnon,” Aggie corrects.

“What do you mean ‘another poppet’”? I ask, playing up being offended because obviously Jakk’s used this trick before.

“Uhhhh…” Jakk says, scratching his mane, welding-goggled eyes aimed elsewhere.

“Oooh Jakky! How could you?” I wink at Aggie and he roars with hearty laughter.

“Yar, yer alright missy!”


“Alrighty then Missy Halley, why don’tcher fasten yerself into a seat and I’ll get this tub up into The Black.”

“Aye aye,” I say and skeptically climb into a battered chair bolted to the floor. Jakk comes over and helps strap me in, copping a feel while he does because we wouldn’t want my tits injured in a crash. I blush and we share a smile. The Condor meanwhile starts to hum alarmingly and vibrate. Jakk quickly hops into his own chair and thoroughly buckles himself in. Aggie smacks his ragged lips and I feel my stomach drop suddenly and our momentum shift. The world moves alarmingly beyond the small dirty cockpit windows. I feel a grumble of anxiety and start to sweat. Fuck, what am I doing here? I clutch the arms of my chair so tightly my fingers start to hurt. Shit!

Aggie grunts, “Nervous?’

I bite my lip and nod.

“First time?”

I nod again.

“We got ourselfs a virgin!” Aggie laughs.

“Sort of,” Jakk purrs and I blush.

“Well dont’cher worry Missy Halley, just hold on tight and it’ll be over afore ya know it.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” I gasp with shaky bravado.

Aggie guffaws and smashes a control making the Condor abruptly leap forward. I feel a sudden kick of acceleration on my chest and the unpleasant sensation of being squeezed into my chair. Aggie's pudgy flesh hand calmly grips a control stick while his mechanical one dances across holograms. The Condor shudders and shakes hard enough to make my teeth rattle and the background hum becomes a roar. I gasp and choke back a whimper, and then feel Jakk's hand on mine, giving it a gentle pat. "It's okay!" he shouts over the racket, the opaque black glass of his goggles levelled at me, "It's always like this!" I let go of my chair and desperately grab his hand, crushing it with my deathgrip. The force pressing on my body gets stronger, almost painfully so, and the cabin is growing warm. I squeeze my eyes shut and practice my calming breath routine. In and out and in and out. I feel sweat trickle down my back. I feel like I’m being crushed! This was a mistake! Fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck! And then the roaring stops and the force dwindles and my body is trying to drift out of my chair. "What?" I rasp, panting and damp, loose hair floating wildly. Aggie works the controls and Condor rolls over and I see the planet Flotsam spread out below us, a giant arc of brilliant horizon stretching to infinity. I gasp in wonder, awestruck.

"Welcome to space, babe."


I peer out the cockpit window and watch as we approach a swirling cloud of space debris. "Yar, hold ontah yerselfs," Aggie scolds as his hands work the controls and bring the Condor sliding into the shrapnel, nimbly weaving the little ship through a constellation of wreckage, and somehow finding a safe route through into an empty pocket. “Thar she blows,” Aggie says proudly as we approach a large structure floating in the eye of the debris storm.

The unidentified floating object looks like an ad hoc combination of construction cranes and spacecraft. It has a large modular bulge on one side, what appears to be the hull of a big freighter with two or three smaller ships grafted onto it, as well as an improvised hanger structure. Attached to this is a complex gantry, a kind of cylindrical collar of scaffolding studded with crane-like arms. Cradled in the gantry is a starship, something sleek and dart shaped, and I see the running lights of tiny drones or ships moving around it. I guess it’s some sort of hidden space station? “What is this place?”

“It doesn’t really have a name,” Jakk says, “But it’s where I work. It’s kinda a retrofitting operation, but y’know, a real private one.”

“Circumspect,” Aggie agrees.

Jakk nods, “Sometimes sapients want a little work done on their ship, quiet-like. Or maybe some Orbital Salvagers find something cool that’s maybe not entirely kosher, and we help get the doohickey onto a client’s ship.”

“What kind of doohickey?”

“Weapons mostly,” Aggie says, cyborg eye flashing.


Jakk gives Aggie a look, “Look, maybe a Trader wants to pack a little surprise. Space isn’t always safe, right? And adding military spec to a civy freighter isn’t always officially allowed. So we offer an affordable alternative.”

“We also cater to Pirates!” Aggie growls happily. “And brigands!”

Jakk smiles a little apologetically, “Yeah that too.”

Okay, so it’s an illicit shipyard. That sucks a little, but tracks. My hot date in space would absolutely be to a dodgy chop shop. Whatever, it’s still space! I laugh and coo, “Oooh Jakky, you bring me to all the nicest places!”


“Hurry up Hales!” Jakk laughs as he flies up the ladder ahead of me.

I laugh and try to go faster, but this whole weightless thing is harder than it looks. I try to mimic Jakk and float up the narrow tube, gracefully pushing off the odd ladder rung for speed, but I keep getting twisted around, bumping into walls, chaotic hair stuck in my eyes and mouth, and fall further behind. It seems stupid to cling to a ladder without gravity, but I think I might have better luck. “You really suck!” Jakk teases from above.

“I’m new at this!” I whine with a giggle. I’m floating! I’m experiencing weightlessness! I’m flying! It feels like something from a lucid dream, but it’s real. Halley Houston from the dang trailer park is having an actual fucking space adventure! This is so fucking cool!

“Hurry up slowpoke, you’re almost there.”

Jakk disappears from view and I work my tongue out the corner of my mouth, grab the ladder, and concede to my clumsiness. I start to climb, which actually goes pretty quickly. Ladders are pretty great when you don’t have to lift your fat ass. I reach the top of the tube and launch myself into a little chamber. “Okay!”

“Look,” Jakk says with a smile.

I gasp! The walls of the chamber are transparent and gaze out into space. I press my nose to the glass and stare, watch the light twinkle off the swirling cloud of debris, spot the distant starbright albedo of the planet Flotsam in the distance. Up close I can see the belly of the starship in the gantry, a dark backlit mass filling the horizon. A raised section on the belly is brightly lit and I can see tiny figures, sapients in spacesuits standing at odd angles working. Construction drones maneuver in the vicinity and a huge crane assembly slowly moves a large glowing orb to rest against the starship hull. The orb is filled with a roiling, tumbling light like a storm encased in glass. It’s kind of mesmerizing. I realize we’re somewhere in the gantry structure itself, and that this must be some sort of observation deck. "Wow," I breath, misting on the window.

“It’s something, right?” Jakk says, drifting away from me.

“What’s with the orb?”

Jakk shrugs, “Something we found? It seems to power itself and warp gravity, but we’re not really sure what it does yet. We're putting it on the Salamander to take it out somewhere quiet for a test.”


“It’s not really my department. Exotic shit is for the boffins; I just weld and tinker.” Jakk pushes himself gracefully off a wall and floats over to me in a spiral. We collide and I’m gently crushed against the window. Jakk kisses me hard, clutching my body. “But forget that, I’m not here to talk about work.”

“Forgotten.” I’m not here to talk about work either. I kiss Jakk hungrily and he pulls at the analogue zipper of my jumpsuit, baring my tits because I’m not wearing anything underneath since I’m a dirty naughty girl. Jakk squeezes a breast and bites my neck hard enough to leave a welt, making me mewl happily. He drags his rough thumb over my nipple and I see my reflection gasp in his goggles. Jakk smiles roguishly and launches off me to float back to his bag. “What?” I gasp.

“Hold on,” Jakk says, slipping out of his coveralls and tugging something free of his rucksack. I’m floating naked to the waist, horny and impatient, hands on my hips. Jakk lifts up a black something, like a tangled rubber hose, and tosses it into the air. I feel a warm tingle in my belly, did he bring restraints? I imagine myself hogtied and horny in space. Jakk pokes his keyband and the rubber tangle rapidly expands, snapping taut into a hollow rigid dodecahedron made of black rubber bars. “There.”

“What is it?”

Jakk leers at me, “Zero G sex cage.”

“Oh!” Oh fuck yes! I slip out of my jumpsuit and launch myself at the cage, bouncing gently on its springy surface as I grab on. I grin at Jakk and try to squeeze through the bars with all the awkward grace of a cartoon bear stuck in a honey pot. I wiggle and pull and kick my legs uselessly! I'm stuck! I blush furiously and try to struggle harder. My desperate flailing makes the entire cage spin, somehow making the situation worse, until Jakk stops it and I finally manage to wriggle inside. I push my cloud of hair off my face and collect my wounded dignity. I hang off the cage bars and try to look sexy, stretching out a hand to beckon Jakk, “Come here spaceman…”

Jakk laughs and effortlessly slips into the cage and suddenly we are kissing again, clutching each other, fumbling and teasing, weightless. We drift and bump into the bars, make the cage rotate and float around the room, gently colliding with walls. My heart is racing and I’m panting and holy shit I’m going to have sex in space! Jack throws my legs over his shoulders and starts to eat my pussy, holding me at an impossible angle. I moan and we are doing a barrel roll while he sucks my clit. I writhe against his face and start to whine and twitch, I’m so close to coming, but Jakk abruptly stops, leaving me squirming near the edge. He kicks off and pins me to the cage, pushes my hands against the rubber tubing, tucks my feet through bars. “Hold on tight,” he growls and I gasp and brace myself. Jakk presses his body against me, gets a strong grip on the cage for leverage, and presses his cock inside me. I feel him part me and push into my pussy, so big and hot and hard inside my hungry cunt. I moan and brace myself, flexing my limbs and core, try to grind back against him. Jakk starts to thrust, using his arms and legs to slam into me, making the sex cage spin and bounce across the room. I gasp and breathlessly laugh, and Jakk grins and groans, as we careen and fuck. Jakk thrusts harder and faster in a relentless steady motion that ohhhh, ohhh fuck, is oh yesssss, that’s it! Fuck! Fuuuuuuck! I spasm and whimper and so close and ahhhhhhh! Fuck! Fuck yes!!

I want more.

I dizzily let go of the cage and push Jakk, knocking him loose and making us float. I climb aboard my lover’s lap and straddle him, wrap my legs around his waist, reach down, guide his cock back into me, and try to fuck him. Without gravity I almost launch myself right off him, and I have to use my legs to pull myself back against his body. I growl, it’s hard to bounce on a cock when you’re weightless! I try to orbit my hips a little, to find that little extra, but it just makes us twist in the air. Jakk grunts and grabs the cage, steadies us with his hands and feet. Suddenly I have a solid platform to work with, a fulcrum for my lever, and I can grind my pussy against Jakk properly. I sit up and arch my back, feel up my tits, put on a show for Jakk. Except my breasts don't have their familiar heft in zero gravity, they flap and float instead of bounce, are distractingly amorphous. I play with my boobs, wiggling and prodding, less fondling than exploring. It feels so weird! Jakk gets impatient and grabs my hips and starts to thrust into me, stands us up by his footholds, and we’re fucking face to face, aloft. We have nothing but our bodies for leverage and so we wrestle, grinding and humping, less thrusting than slamming our junk together, growling and sweaty in the increasingly muggy chamber. I’m panting and my heart is hammering and we’ve found the right rhythm and oh god oh fuck I’m going to come again and Jakk clutches me so tightly that it hurts and I feel his cock pulse inside me and a sudden wet heat as he comes and oh oh oh “Ffffffffffuuuckkkkk….” I gasp through clenched teeth. “Fuck.”


I’m drifting naked and weightless, sweaty but satisfied, curled around Jakk in our space lover’s cage. I feel smug and euphoric and boneless, a sense only amplified by the lack of gravity. I want to fuck Jakk again, maybe try out something terrestrially impossible or suck his cock and watch Jakk geyser in zero G. I imagine swallowing a floating globule of cum like an astronaut chasing an errant grape. I grin, this sex in space thing has possibilities. I gaze out the big window and look at the docked starship with its weird glowing alien orb. This still feels so unreal, like I’m a character in some particularly horny science fiction story. Who would have thought that an agoraphobic trailer park shut-in would be having a post coital cuddle in actual fucking space? I see a flash of something and a construction drone veers weirdly. I perk up and squint. I think I see something moving… no, rocketing toward us! It’s going to hit our chamber! “Jakk!”


“Jakk!” I almost scream and point. The thing is flying rapidly closer! It’s a person! They’re falling right at us! Are they hurt!? What is going to happen to them? Will they smash through the window!? Fuck! “Jakk!”

The person is tucked in tight like an arrow, leading helmeted head first, racing towards us like a skydiver. Jakk curses and starts to wiggle out of the sex cage but it’s too late and the person smashes into the window! Except they don’t! They pass right through it! As if the barrier doesn’t exist! The figure lands heavily and stands on armoured feet. It’s an Ürnaut and it regards us blankly with its smooth armoured head. “YOU ARE UNDER ARREST. THIS IS AN ILLEGAL INSTALLATION. COMPLY. OBEY. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE.” Jakk curses and launches himself at the Ürnaut, one naked man against a cyborg supersoldier. The Ürnaut slaps him heavily aside and Jakk smashes into the wall. I scream! “YOU ARE UNDER ARREST. COMPLY.” The Ürnaut pins Jakk to the wall by his throat and Jakk kicks at the cyborg. “Fuck you! Fuck!” The Ürnaut snatches something off its belt and slaps it against Jakk’s face. It’s a black ball! It adheres and starts to expand, flowing around Jakk’s face, growing into a hood that engulfs Jakk’s whole head and neck in a black featureless sphere. Jakk’s body goes instantly passive and he stops resisting. The Ürnaut releases Jakk and he floats obediently. “COMPLY.”

“Jakk?” I whimper in fear and huddle against the back of the cage, trying to get as far from the Ürnaut as I can. “YOU ARE UNDER ARREST. THIS IS AN ILLEGAL INSTALLATION.” The cyborg walks calmly towards me. “This is a mistake!” I screech, “I don’t work here! I’m just visiting…” The Ürnaut phases through the rubber sex cage like a ghost and pulls another black ball from it’s belt. “IRRELEVANT. YOU ARE UNDER ARREST. OBEY.” I scream and the Ürnaut presses the black ball to my forehead and everything goes dark….


…I come back to myself in a strange round chamber. Everything is white and very bright. The walls glow, the ceiling glows, the floor glows; I am bathed in light, exposed. In front of me looms a twelve foot tall, perfectly black monolith. “HUMAN FEMALE YOU STAND ACCUSED.”

I look around frantically for help. I’m naked and I have a thick black band around my neck like a Shakespearian collar made of rubber. Two Ürnauts stand flanking me, passive but menacing. I feel tears sting my eyes. “There must be some mistake…”


“But I was just visiting! I didn’t work there!” I’m crying and shaking and about to completely freak the fuck out! “It was just supposed to be a stupid goodbye fuck!”


“What!? No! This isn’t fair!”


I gasp, completely stunned. Ten years!? I’m going to prison for ten years! A whole decade of my life! Gone! I feel my knees go weak and I nearly faint. All because I wanted to fuck Jakk? To visit space!? Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I feel a wail building that never makes it past my lips because the black collar around my neck starts to flow down my body with a feeling like sharp pinpricks. I hold up an arm and watch in mute horror as it becomes coated in black rubberlike material. The pinpricks race over my torso and down my legs and even up into my pussy. I must be totally encased. “W-what?”

Then the collar flows upward, black swallowing my head in another spherical hood. My body goes rigid but my mind is still racing. I’m terrified! One of the Ürnauts steps forward, grasps the black globe containing my head, and lifts it off my body. Mentally I scream! My body doesn’t have a head! My head doesn’t have a body! What the fuck!? How am I alive? But then a sense of calm washes over me and the world goes hazy. Distantly I note my body obediently following one Ürnaut while my head is carried away by another. My consciousness drifts…


Time loses meaning and becomes vague and disjointed. I exist in a void. Brief glimpses of motion. Sight without seeing. I feel my hands busy at work, metal and tools, prying and unfastening. The proprioceptive sense of machinery and components. Endless disassembly. Activity. Dormancy. Routine. A swirling fugue. A trance. And then…

I’m myself again! I open my eyes, except that isn't quite right? I see, except it isn't really vision. Sam is here though. "Sam!" I vocalise somehow.

"Halley," he says, looking relieved.

"What happened? The last thing I remember..." I was being decapitated by a black plinth for fucking another man in a criminal space station.

Sam nods, "Yes. You'd been picked up by Ürnauts and brought before the Archon for punishment. I believe the sentence was ten years of hard labour for being an Accesory to a Criminal Enterprise."

"But I was just visiting!"

"The Ürnauts are not fond of liniency or nuance, I'm afraid."

I'm propped up on a chair and I feel strange. I'm naked, I think? But maybe somehow not? I raise my hands and... regard them? Sense them. They are coated in a black smooth substance. Oh no! Oh fuck! My hands fly up to my shoulders, feel around, travel all the way across without encountering my head or neck, just a long smooth decapitated line. My head! I've lost my fucking head! Fuck! Fucking fuck! I'm starting to panic! "Fuck!"

Sam crouches down and gently takes my hands in his, "Halley, listen to me. It's going to be alright. I did what I could and got your body out of that dreadful breakyard and unlocked your mind."

"But my head!?"

"Is still imprisoned in the Ürnaut Oubliette. I pulled some strings to rescue your body and HAL-E helped jailbreak your mind, but your head and, well, brain are still detained. Technically, in the eyes of the Archon, you're still serving your sentence." Sam squeezes my hands, "The Ürnaut gaurds I bribed think I've taken your body as a trophy and that you're here as a mindless plaything."


"It's important that we maintain that illusion. If the Ürnauts discover your mind is free there will be consequences for both of us."

I would sigh and tilt my head back if I still had all the necesary parts. Instead I just let my posture droop. "How did you manage to do this?"

"I'm afraid I haven't been completely forthcoming with you about my profession..."

"You aren't a specialized brokerage consulatant?"

Sam chuckles, "In only the most euphemistic sense. I'm a smuggler, Halley. Or rather I'm the Director of a smuggling enterprise, a rather successful one. Which gives me access to resources and a certain amount of clout."

"Oh." It seems my nice vanilla boy was the real bad guy after all. "Well thanks."

Sam smiles, "Of course."

"So what now?"

"That is the question, isn't it? Obviously you'll have to stay here with me, at least until we figure out a safe alternative, but what that looks like is up to you. I'd rather hoped we could pick up where we left off..."

I wish I had eyes to blink, "What? You still want to be in a relationship with me?"

"Of course." Sam raises a hand, "I recognize that there's a problematic power imbalance at play here, so I want to emphasize that your continued freedom is not contingent on being romantic with me. We can be friends or just roomates if your prefer." Sam looks at me quite intently, "But I was serious about taking things to the next level with you, and that hasn't changed."

"Even though I'm a headless rubber sexdoll now?"

Sam looks at me with a hunger that makes me shiver, "I actually rather like that part." He clears his throat, "My tastes are rather... singular."

Oh my, it seems my not so nice boy is also kinky. I sit up straight in the chair, push my rubberized tits up, and lean forward. "Tell me more about this 'next level'..."


Memories rapidly unspool. I'm naked on my hands and knees while Sam rests his feet on my back like a footstool. He's entertaining a Blue Culture Leader with an extremely sensitive shipment of highly illegal aphrodisiac musk and discussing business terms. I hold perfectly still, curious and aroused, but playing at being a mindless toy. I'm hanging spreadeagle from a steel rack with electrodes glued to my body and remote controlled dildos inserted into my pussy and ass. Sam sits in a chair across from me, clothed in a  plush robe, a look of intense focus on his face as he works a holographic interface. Pain and pleasure spark and arc around my body, making me twitch and moan. I'm carrying a tray of fancy cocktails around a party filled with important sapients with a running vibrator hidden in my pussy. Waves of intense stimulation flare through my cunt, but I fight to maintain my composure. Everyone at the party thinks I'm just a kinky slave and I can't let them know I'm aware. I take careful mincing steps, perfectly posed, pausing to hand out drinks, while inside I'm almost screaming in pleasure. Fuck I'm so close that if I had teeth they'd be chattering! The pleasure builds and builds and I, I can't keep it together much longer! Fuck I'm going to come! I veer for the kitchen, fighiting to keep the same placid flirty gait, forcing myself not to dash or wobble or just gush right where I'm standing. I step through the door, push it closed, and then AHHHHHH!!!! I'm coming and I've dropped the tray and the glasses, my legs have gone numb and I've fallen to the floor in a silent writhing twisting orgasm that seems to go on and on and on. The door pushes open, but I'm too far gone to hide, but it's only Sam and he's smiling down at me in total delight. I’m back on a different floor. My hands and legs are bound and I'm being fucked doggystyle by Sceolàn. I moan as the doggirl thrusts into me harder and harder. I feel my cunt stretched wide by her canine cock, and even  wider by the bulge of her knot as it forces itself into me, welding us together. Sam watches from his armchair intently, fingers steepled. Sceolan barks and yelps and I'm not sure if it's the woman or the dog fucking me. I feel dirty and defiled and so filled and...


"Fuck!" I yank the circlet off my head. I'm panting and turned on and disgusted and captivated. My facial pussy is engorged and drooling into my mask and I'm sure my sodden panties have left a wet spot on the chair. I squirm and yank the mask off my face, reaching up to wipe fragrant pussy juice from my chin. "What the fuck!?"

Halley-12 leans forward in her chair, "Exciting isn't it?"

"Fuck." I gasp and try to calm down. There is nothing to be afraid of and no you will not be having sex right now. Let's get this business meeting back on track. “S-so you’re an Infobroker now…”

Halley-12 doesn’t have a head, but I can tell she’s staring at my face. I blush. “I am.”

“H-how did that ha-happen?”

Halley-12 shrugs her empty shoulders, “A shut-in needs hobbies and there are only so many sexy games a girl and her master can play in a day. So I decided to try and figure out what happened to Halley-Prime.” She makes a dismissive gesture, “I couldn’t exactly chase down leads, but I could do the internet sleuth thing and put together some theories. Maybe eventually write a nice little True Crime novella.”

I blow out a deep humid breath, “Okay, but how do you get to ‘Gan Ceann’? Having a pet Agent?”

Halley-12’s headless body looks smug. “One thing led to another. Sam has tendrils into all sorts of business and you’d be surprised what sapients will say in front of sexy naked headless girls with featherdusters. I started to learn things, facts and secrets, valuable intel. At first it was just the means to learning more about Prime, tokens to trade with other Infobrokers or leverage to get sapients to talk, but eventually I knew enough to start playing the game. I decided to market what I knew, to swap and sometimes sell, more for the reputation than Currency, to build a network of clients and informants. I became someone who knows things. A real player. I created the Gan Ceann alias to protect my identity and foster some mystery, although I suspect those in the know assume I’m really just Sam having a laugh, which also suits my purposes.” Halley-12 folds her hands in her lap and sits straight, “I’ve become very good at my trade.”

“And you’re still chasing Halley-Prime?”

“It’s good to have a hobby.”

I nod and think back to my worst agoraphobic days and the hours spent beating video games and repainting Clem’s nerdy miniatures. I understand the appeal of little obsessions.

Halley-12 steeples her fingers and taps them in a silent clap, “Speaking of which, what did you learn for me?”

I rub my facial clit thoughtfully, “Halley-18 was a Reptilian gangster and is hiding out in the Sexbox.”

“I’d surmised as much,” Halley-12 says, gesturing for me to continue.

“Or maybe she wants to be there too? The Serpent dosed her with some kind of brainwashing pattern that made her want to shrink away to nothing. She got an antidote, but it only partially worked, so now she’s living as a limbless sextoy…”

“Sounds sexy,” Halley-12 purrs, “Perhaps we should compare notes?”

I blush, oh to be a fly on the wall for that conversation. “Right. Well, before she became limbless, Halley-18 was sent by the Serpent out into the Junk Desert to retrieve the Memory Crystal from a crashed starship. She told me it was the Black Box from the ship that abducted us from Earth. A Tall White Corsair, I think. Halley was told the Memory Crystal contained information about who paid to have us abducted.”

“Interesting.” Halley-12 sits up, body attentive. “Did she review the contents?”

“No, she never had the chance.”

“Unfortunate. Where is the Memory Crystal now?”

“The Serpent has it in her Pyramid.” I shake my head, “So I have no idea where you go from here…”

Halley-12 body sits still, thoughtful, her fingers dancing on her armrest. “I guess we’ll have to go and retrieve it.”

“What? You’re joking! How are you going to steal it from inside a crime lord’s fortress?”

“Not me. You.”


Halley-12 gestures at her headless body, “I can’t infiltrate a party; I’m rather conspicuous. Plus the whole escaped fugitive under house arrest thing.”

I gesture at the cunt on my face, “I’m don’t exactly blend in either.”

“Oh that shouldn’t be a problem,” Halley-12 waves her hand. “I have a plan.”

“You have a plan?”

Halley-12 opens the decanter of blue liquor and pours a generous amount into the tumblers. “Tell me, have you met Halley-15?”


To be continued.


Re: Flotsam

Chapter 24: https://indigocarminefiction.blogspot.c … 9b&m=1

Chapter 24: Embassy

I am standing on a narrow causeway in front of another opulent Terraces mansion. The building is fairly plain, squat and boxy with simple square windows, but it’s surrounded by a wide reflecting pool and has decorative waterfalls that cascade down the facades. It’s the most standing water I’ve seen on the otherwise dry Mesa and I imagine it must be very expensive to maintain. I straighten my grey dress and adjust my facemask, looks like another fancy adventure for Halley-24. “Here we go again…”

I walk across the causeway and try to enjoy the playful trickle of dancing water and ignore that I’m basically crossing a moat. The heavy bronze doors slide open as I approach and I enter a spacious lobby of clean mother-of-pearl tile that’s lined with aquariums filled with bright corals and unfamiliar sea creatures. The lobby lighting has a dappled, flowing quality that makes me feel like I’m swimming underwater and the air has a briny scent like the sea. I stop and look into an aquarium and watch an iridescent frilly corkscrew thing torpedo around. “Can I help you?” A woman asks with bright professional warmth.

“Oh! Uh, hi.” I see a cute receptionist perched behind an aquarium desk filled with the jagged armored frills of Giger-esque crinoids. The petite human woman has short damp hair like she’s just hopped out of the shower and is wearing a loose cerulean robe over a sky blue one-piece that shows off the round bulge of a pregnant tummy. The outfit has beach vacation vides that seem at odds with the fancy lobby, if not the oceanic decor. The receptionist smiles and says, “Are you here on official business? Do you have an appointment?”

“No?” I say, approaching the reception desk. “I was sent by Gan Ceann to speak with Halley-15.”

The receptionist perks up, “Oh! You’re a Halley too, aren’t you!?”

I blush and squirm, “I am.”

“It’s a little hard to see with that facemask,” the pregnant receptionist gnaws on a knuckle while her hands gesture at a hologram only she can see. “The Embassy is really busy today, buuuut since you’re a Halley I think we can squeeze you in right now. As long as you don’t mind chatting while she works?”

“That’s perfect.”

“Well then follow me!” The receptionist waddles out from behind her desk and beckons me to follow. Her feet slap on the floor and I realize she’s wearing flip flops. She leads me down a short hallway and into a large room dominated by an Olympic-size pool of water. “Your Excellency, I’m sorry to interrupt, but you have a visitor. It’s a new Halley.”

Halley-15 climbs heavily out of the pool and sits on the ledge, her bare legs dangling in the water. She is dressed only in a pale green one-piece swimsuit that makes it obvious that she’s hugely pregnant. Her belly is enormous, a bulging taut sphere of flesh that encompasses half her body. She looks like she’s already full-term, more than that, like she’s gone into extra gestational innings or has more than one kid in there. Twins, triplets, maybe a whole litter. Her breasts are swollen and enlarged, as big as my own expanded bust, but stretched naturally instead of enhanced, resting heavily on her baby bump. Halley-15 rearranges her wet braided hair and nods to the receptionist, “Thank you Ômné, you did the right thing.”

I’m honestly in a kind of shock. As the proud owner of a uterus I’ve always known that I could get pregnant; the nuns at the orphanage made it very clear that getting knocked up was only ever one horny mistake away, but it had always seemed like an abstract factoid or a phantasm warded off by the IUD I promptly installed in college. A future problem for a wiser Halley who wasn’t a mentally unstable mess to solve. I couldn’t take care of myself, how on Earth could I possibly be a good mother? Apparently this clone of me has figured her shit out: she’s an Excellency at an Embassy and is expecting some number of children too. I try to imagine her at home, looking over dossiers in a sunny breakfast nook while her handsome artist partner sketches her. She rests a hand gently on her belly and feels her twin babies kick and… “What do you want, Halley?”

I snap back to reality and blush. Halley-15 is looking at me with an impatient frown, and I guess I’ve been staring at her. “Gan Ceann sent me…”

“Oh good,” Halley-15 says with an expression that says the opposite,“double the Halley drama.” She sighs and kicks her feet in the water a little, “I’m guessing this is about Prime?”

“It is. We… need your help.”

“Jesus Christ, I do not need this shit.”

This feels like it isn't going well. I suck on my facial labia behind my mask and wish I still had a mouth to make earnest, convincing faces with. How does Gan Ceann manage to emote so well without a head? She should teach acting classes. Okay, deep breath: "Halley-17 found the Black Box flight computer belonging to the spacecraft that abducted us from Earth. We think it holds answers about why we're here and maybe what happened to Prime."


Nothing? No curiosity? “We believe the Serpent of the Reptilian Syndicates has it now, and we want to try and get it back.”

Halley-16 lets out a rude chuckle and splashes her feet. “Incredible! That’s such a spectacularly stupid idea! Steal a valuable secret from the Interim Dragon!? From her own Pyramid!? Idiotic!” She shakes her head, “Can I give you some advice?”


“Do yourself a favor and stop this idiotic quest before you get yourself killed. Flotsam isn’t a fantasy world and not everyone has your best interests at heart.” Halley-16 tilts her head, “But looking at you, I’m guessing you already know that. I don’t even want to know what you’re hiding under that maxi pad on your face…”

My cheeks go red and I feel suddenly defensive. Sure I have a pussy on my face, and yeah I got myself into trouble, but it’s still my face and actually it’s pretty sexy once you get a little used to it. Which, woah! Did I just want to defend my weird cunt face? Is this how I feel? Focus. “I’m not here looking for your blessings. Just your help.” I unclench my hands, “Gan Ceann told me you owe her a favour, and she wants you to sneak me into the Sepent’s Pyramid. She knows you’re going to an event there.”

Halley-16 leans back, her hugely gravid belly somehow looking bigger and rounder, like she’s protectively puffed up. “I do owe her a favour, a big one, but I’m going to the Pyramid in my Official Capacity. I can’t risk an interstellar incident for Gan Ceann’s dumb scavenger hunt.” She strokes her baby bulge, “I have responsibilities.”

Oh no. “Surely as the Ambassador…”

“I’m not the Ambassador, I’m the Embassy.”


“Hold on a minute.” Halley-15 awkwardly scoots closer to the pool edge and spreads her legs. I realize her swimsuit doesn’t have a crotch and her bare pussy is hanging out, swollen and distended from the weight of her pregnancy. She hangs her uncovered vagina just above the water and I watch agog as the surface of the pool writhes and bulges as if it were alive. The water flows together and upward into an impossible column that stretches out into a questing tendril. The water tendril reaches toward Halley-15, who leans back and opens her thighs wider as if presenting herself to the pool. The tendril gently touches her thigh and Halley-16 shivers and bites her lip as rivulets of animated water flow along her skin. The fluid splashes against her cunt and Halley-15 shivers, her pussy now joined to the pool by a long jet of water. She moans and squirms as her vulva are parted wide open and fluid starts to flow into her pussy. She pants and her belly starts to grow, inflating from the pressure and volume, as the fluid tendril pumps itself inside of her. She gasps and her hands clench as more and more liquid pushes inside her body, making her womb bulge even larger, until the fluid tendril detaches itself from the pool surface and sucks itself up into her cunt. Halley strokes the tight skin of her enormously inflated stomach and puffs a couple slow but shallow breaths, her cheeks a rosy red. “As I was saying, I’m the Naiadine Embassy.”

My eyes are wide with shock, “You’re not pregnant?”

“No,” she shakes her head and pats her belly. “I’m a living vessel for the Naiad to travel and experience the world.”

“What? The fuck?”

Halley-15 frowns at me, “The Naiad are a liquid species, and have evolved to exist on purely aquatic worlds. They simply can’t live outside the water. In historic times they kept modified human servants as living vessels for transport on Dry Worlds.” She pauses in that arch way that hints at discomfort “More recently, progressive fluids within the Naiadine Confluence have recognized the sapience of humans and banned the practice of keeping human chattel. This has somewhat curtailed the practice, but the Naiads still need help, especially on an arid world like Flotsam, so now they contract out the work.” Halley-15 smiles, “I’m paid very well for my time and body, and I’m honoured to contribute to the Naiadine Mission.”

So carrying around goo aliens in your cooch? Gross but okay. “There is no way to convince you to help us?”

“Absolutely not, I take my role here very seriously…” Halley-15 blinks her eyes and looks confused, “What? Really? Mixture, respectfully I must object! This human woman’s foolhardy quest is not…” She stops and looks mollified, “Of course your Pellucidness.”

“What’s going on?”

Halley-15 leans back and rests a hand on her belly. “It seems you are in luck after all. The Ambassadorial Mixture has decided to help sneak you into the Pyramid, despite my objections.”

“The Naiad want to help me?”

Halley-15 nods, “They want to see the Interim Dragon embarrassed and replaced by a more favorable candidate. The Mixture thinks your misadventure could serve that purpose, with very little risk to us.”

That’s a little ominous. “That’s fantastic.”

Halley-15 rolls her eyes, “Don’t thank us yet.” She gently slaps her enormous round belly with a damp smack, “First things first, you’re going to have to see a Shaper about a womb upgrade.”


To be continued.


Re: Flotsam

Not gonna lie, whatever I expected it wasn't that.


Re: Flotsam

Chapter 25: https://indigocarminefiction.blogspot.c … er-25.html

Chapter 25: Snatch

I thrust my body against Bluebell to the rhythm of the loudly chugging milk machine. She’s propped up in bed with milking cups attached to her four breasts and udder, and I’m riding the larger alien cow woman, my ass on her udder and my face urgently pressed to hers. Bluebell moos loudly and forces her wide tongue into the pussy slit on my face, stretching my cunt and licking the entirety of my oral clit, inside and out. My face explodes in pleasure and I gasp through the nostrils behind my ears and moan electronically. The quicksilver Grey techno cocks in my ass and pussy vibrate faster, more urgently, and HAL-E’s holographic grunts fill the room. I gasp and shudder, nearly overwhelmed, and grab Bell by the horns and smash our mouths together, fuck her face harder. Bluebell moos, bucks and orgasms again, driven wild by her milking and by the huge silver equine cock that HAL-E is plunging into her cunt. Bluebell grabs my plush ass with her long blue fingers, squeezes it so hard it hurts, and I feel her ropey tail lashing away beneath me, batting my thigh. Oh fuck I’m so close! I’m trying to hold back, to tamp it down and let it build, to deny deny deny until everything blows at once! But, oooh fuck! It’s too much! Bluebell swirls her tongue in my mouthpussy and I see spots, almost collapse against her. Tiny quicksilver drones zoom around me and latch onto my nipples, envelop them, and suddenly I’m being milked too, sucking, tugging, pulling. Fuck, me, fuck! No, no, no! I feel the starry tingles in my ass of a rogue anal orgasm threatening to go, and I squirm my hips, fight it off. But then I almost lose it again as I feel HAL-E’s big cock spasm and spray her hot silvery science spunk into my cunt. Fuck! I gasp a deep breath and try to desperately hold onto the edge, think unsexy thoughts about calmness and tranquility. Bluebell sucks my facial clit while thrusting her tongue along the roof of my pussy, using her inhuman lingual dexterity to press hard into the ridges of my clitoris. I… I… I… lose control! I feel all my cunts spasm and clench in a flash of pleasure that makes me squeal and writhe before collapsing onto the soft mammaries of Bluebell.

The milker continues to chug.

“This one opined that you would not be able to outlast the milker.” Bluebell pants smugly, her big black eyes warm with affection.

I groan and bask, too melted to argue.

“What’s the score, like 9-0 for us?” HAL-E asks as she merges her penile components into a single hovering metallic sphere.

“I…” I blow out a breath as an orgasmic aftershock ripples through my cunts, “I th-think tha-at was my re-record…”

“You were not even close to enduring.” Bell observes happily, patting a tit still being emptied by the milker.

“N-n-noo regrets…” I whine and shiver through another aftershock. My whole body feels too sensitive, like I’m entirely made of one giant clitoris.

Bluebell strokes my hair, still panting a little from having her teats milked. “What does our new client need with so much moooo-ilk?”

“No idea,” I mumble into her tits. It isn’t even a lie, I really have no idea why Gan Ceann ordered so many gallons.

A tiny hologram of HAL-E manifests with a vaporous pixel tail connected to the floating drone. She grins, “Knowing something about what happens in that house, I bet it’s totally perverted!”

“Mooo! This one demands knowledge of the details!” The milk machine chimes and stops pumping and Bluebell starts to delicately remove the long milking cups from her breasts.

“Of course,” I say, leaning forward to kiss Bell on the forehead, leaving a sloppy pussy mark like a baptism. “If it’s something boring, I’ll make up something filthy for you.”

Bluebell snorts and tickles me, and I roll off her onto the bed. “Deceitful Earthling,” she says with a laugh, reaching down to unfasten her udder. “You begin your new enterprise tonight, correct?”

“Yeah…” I say, avoiding eye contact.

“I don’t know why you want to work for those awful Naiad,” HAL-E mutters. “Isn’t the milkmaid business enough for you?”

“Says the one of us running in parallel. How many sapients are you fucking right now?”

“Not the point.”

Bluebell stretches happily on the bed. “This one thinks it is a wise decision. Dear Halley-24 is so fresh to the world! She should attempt many new endeavors to learn about herself and her interests.”

“Thank you,” I say, feeling shitty about misleading Bell. “This gig is nice because it’s at night so it doesn’t interfere with the dairy deliveries.” I do a silly little debutante pose, “Plus I get to go to some fancy soirées.”

HAL-E puts her tiny hands on her ghostly hips like an angry genie, “Well, I think you should just focus on the milk thing.”

“Mooo! You could always join this one on the lactation line.” Bluebell shakes her udder provocatively. “There is always a need for more product!”

“Whaddya say Halley?” HAL-E says, morphing her holographic body to have four big tits, an udder, and cute little cow horns. “Moo!”

I roll my eyes, “You two are in-cow-rrigible.” I pick up a magic space towel and start to clean off my sex funked body. “Say, HAL-E, seeing as how I'll be working for a diplomatic mission and all, would you mind turning down the Nanny-spyware for the day? Not that I don't trust you..."

"But you don't want to piss off your new watery overlords by being a listening post?"


"Your wish is my command," HAL-E says while crossing her arms and doing the I Dream of Genie blink, "Privacy Mode Activated."

"Thank you." HAL-E de-manifests and the Grey drone flows back into a silver ring that wraps around my finger. I give the ring a little pussy kiss and go to find my milkmaid clothes...


"So what is all the milk for!?" I demand of Gan Ceann as we sit around an elegant circular table waiting for Samonavar to arrive.

"It's for an art project!" Gan Ceann says merrily.  The headless woman taps her fingertips on the polished wooden surface of the table and a hologram screen manifests in front of me. I'm looking at a greyscale image of Gan Ceann, Halley-12, with her black rubber coated body bound and dangling from a rope. Her legs are tied together at the ankles with roughly textured rope and her arms are restrained behind her back. She is hanging by her legs with her headless shoulders suspended just inches above the ground. "Swipe," Gan Ceann purrs, and I do, revealing another black and white photo of a bound Gan Ceann, this time kneeling with a complicated ligature that crosses her shoulders like an X and artfully binds her arms in three places. I swipe again and she is beautifully hogtied, and again and she is lashed to a chair. Image after image of Gan Ceann in elaborate distress flash across the screen. The photography is technically very good, but the shots are oddly flat and wide. I've seen much more interesting bondage erotica before, with moody perspectives that break the scene down into sensations. A bound wrist. A straining back. Legs held together. A naked pussy helplessly exposed. Gan Ceann's images are documentarian somehow, passionless records rather than art. Like a catalogue of perversion. Proprietary. "What do you think?"

"It's certainly provocative?" I guess. "But how does the milk fit into this?"

"We’re holding an exhibition of Sam's images," Gan Ceann says, gesturing to dismiss the photo gallery. "We bought a big clawfoot tub and I plan to fill it with milk and take a nice long bath while our guests enjoy the art show. We have to maintain my cover as a sexual plaything after all."

"I see." I imagine Halley-12’s shiny black body immersed in an opaque white pool, only her tits and the smooth line of her shoulders breaking the surface, or maybe just her ass and pussy and the soles of her feet. I wonder how long she can hold her breath or if she even needs to breathe. I shake my head and smile; my exhibitionist sex slave clone is going to pose nude in a bathtub full of my lover’s breast milk. Bluebell is going to love hearing about this!

I hear a throat politely clear and presently Sam arrives. “Halley,” he says nodding politely to me. “Darling,” he says to Gan Ceann, accepting her imperiously outstretched hand and kissing it rather too intensely. “I apologize for my tardiness, I had to fetch something for our caper.”

“Excellent,” Gan Ceann says clapping her hands. “Then we can begin. Halley, is there anything you need to know?”

I frown, quickly catalogue what I know about the plan, and realize I’m pretty in the dark. Okay, so, best start from the top, right? “What’s the Serpent’s deal? She’s the Dragon right, which is some kind of judge?”

Sam adjusts his glasses, “Interim Dragon, actually. And yes, the Dragon is essentially an arbiter who settles disputes between the Reptilian Clan factions on Flotsam.” Sam makes a gesture and a hologram appears above the table like an organizational chart. “The Reptilian Empire is organized into something like a Senate.” Three dots in the centre of the chart brighten. “The Executive Power is held by a Triumvirate made of High Matriarchs from the three most powerful Great Houses.” An outer ring of nine more dots glow. “Then there are nine Lesser Houses that make up a legislating body that creates Imperial Laws and has the ability to overrule the decisions of the Triumvirate.”

“Checks and Balances.”

“In theory,” Sam nods. “However, historically this system was defined by power imbalance: the strongest Great House would control a majority voting block in the Senate and bully the Triumvirate into subservience, effectively creating a de facto Reptilian Empress. Which is essentially what kicked off the Grey-Reptilian war.” Sam pauses and clears his throat. “The spectacular failure of that gambit caused a leveling of power among the Great Houses which has created something of a stalemate in their politics.” The organizational chart grows lines linking one central dot to three outer dots. “At the moment each Great House controls three Lesser Houses and refuses to compromise in the Triumvirate. Each High Matriarch thinks she can become the next Empress."

“Why does this matter?”

Gan Ceann steeples her fingers, “Because it explains The Serpent.”

"Quite." Sam picks lint off his fussy jacket, "Flotsam is a very important planet for illicit commerce, which means all the major Reptilian Houses have an official criminal presence here. To prevent any sort of escalating conflict between Houses, the Triumvirate has installed a Dragon to keep the peace on Flotsam.” Sam examines the lint and flicks it to the floor. “Typically a Dragon is a highly ranked Matriarch, usually chosen from one of the Lesser Houses, the position granted as a bribe or boon, but the current political gridlock means the Triumvirate will not collaborate on choosing a new Dragon.”

Gan Ceann leans in, “Which means that when the previous Dragon was assassinated, one of her Lieutenants was able to take control of the Flotsam Network.”

“And this Lieutenant is The Serpent?”

Sam nods, “Allegedly.”

Gan Ceann shrugs her headless shoulders, “Some of my contacts think The Serpent is a fiction or figurehead, and that the Flotsam Network is really being run by ambitious male Reptilians or human agents. A way for the disenfranchised to get ahead.”

“When I talked to Halley-17, she made it sound like there was an actual individual Serpent in charge of her… experience.”

Gan Ceann rubs her hands together, “Interesting…”

“Regardless, the Serpent has slithered herself into a precarious position. She is very capable and useful to the Triumvirate, so her power grab has been tolerated, at least so far. She's also an outsider, which doesn't upset the power balance, but this leaves her with limited resources and allies.”

“All the High Matriarchs think they can gain influence over her and make her work for them.” Gan Ceann brings a fist down onto the table, “Or that they can easily dispose of her, and replace her with their own stooge.”

“And so the Serpent is playing a very careful game of balancing the Reptilian Houses against each other, consistently being useful without allying herself too closely with any one Reptilian House.”

“Basically she’s balanced on a knife edge.”

“Okay,” I say while frowning at the table. “Why are the Naiad going to smuggle me in?”

“Because the Serpent is trying to play them off the Aquarians and it pisses them off.”


Sam makes a gesture and a hologram of a giant mass of squidy tentacles appears surrounded by what look like mermaids. “The Naiads and Aquarians are the two most powerful aquatic sentient species in our corner of the Universe. They’re locked in something of a colonial cold war, particularly over the possession of water planets in Reptilian Space.”

“The Naiad are really good at chemistry and produce a lot of drugs, both medical and recreational, so Flotsam is an important hub for them.” Gan Ceann says. “They had an understanding with the previous Dragon and don’t like being fucked around by the Serpent.”

“But why help us?”

Gan Ceann lifts her hand like she’s holding something, “Because maybe you find something that blows up the Serpent’s spot and fucks her over.” She lifts her other hand, “Or you get caught snooping in the compound and embarrass her for lax security.”

“Isn’t that risky for the Naiad?”

Gam Ceann makes puppets of her hands, “What!? One of us was snooping? Who! Halley! She’s new, only hired her as a favor to the Embassy. She’s a down on her luck clone. Can’t trust clones after all, very dodgy. Why of course you can torture her!” The hand puppets mime looking disappointed, “It’s incredible that the Serpent would allow this to happen inside her own Pyramid…”

Sam nods, “Plausible deniability.”

“So I’m on my own.” That sucks.

“Just don’t get caught,” Gan Ceann says headlessly.

“And to that end,” Samanovar declares while making arcane command gestures. A hologram of a black reflective glass pyramid with glowing edges appears in the center of the table. It looks so much like that casino in Vegas that I’m left wondering if there’s a connection. “The Dragon’s Pyramid.”

Gan Ceann does an itsy-bitsy finger pinch, “It’s a small pyramid by Reptilian Standards, but still one of the largest buildings on Flotsam.”

Sam makes a gesture and the pyramid goes translucent and becomes a 3D floor plan of stacked blocks. “The pyramid has four above ground levels.” A big double tall block in the heart of the diagram starts to glow. “There is a large atrium in the core of the building. It’s two stories tall and serves as the Dragon’s throne hall, the space where petitioners would traditionally come for judgement, although this practice is antiquated and thus far the Serpent has used proxies like Halley-17 to pass along her judgements.”

“Which is a big part of why we thought she could be a fake.”

Sam nods and the other ground floor blocks light up. “The rest of the first level is comprised of court facilities: offices, private meeting spaces, conference rooms, and the like.” The second floor highlights. “The second level is devoted to suites for the Serpent’s most trusted lieutenants, however there is a public balcony that should be open to you during the gala.” A small area in the floor plan glows. “There should also be access to the top levels here, which are comprised of the Dragon’s private apartments.”

Gan Ceann counts on her fingers. “Level 1: the courtroom, level 2: the lieutenants, level 3 and 4: the Serpent.”

“Got it.” I suck thoughtfully at my facial labia behind my facemask. “You said four levels above ground, which must mean there’s a basement.”

“Quite.” Sam gestures and two additional underground blocks appear in the floor plan. “We have dramatically less intel about the subterranean space. We gather there are two levels and that the first is made up of a barracks, servants quarters, kitchens, and interrogation rooms, but we don’t have an exact layout.” Sam frowns and adjust his glasses, “We believe the lowest level has longterm storage, holding cells, and an armory. We also think it’s where the Dragon’s vault is.”

“How am I supposed to get all the way down there? I doubt that’s open to party guests.”

Gan Ceann makes an imperious gesture and two areas on the pyramid light up, one in the lowest basement and one near the top. “The Memory Crystal might be kept in the vault, but my gut tells me that the Serpent keeps it up top in her quarters. I bet she has a personal stash there in case things go tits up and she has to slither away.” Gan Ceann rubs one of her breasts thoughtfully for lack of a chin, “You said the Serpent was personally involved in securing the Memory Crystal, and that it’s some sort of blackmail, right?”

“Yeah, that’s what Halley-17 told me.”

“Then it’s exactly the kind of thing I’d want to keep close to me.”

I stare at the two potential locations for the Memory Crystal, one below the pyramid and one near the apex. I drum my fingers on the table, “How am I supposed to know where it is?” I look at Gan Ceann and Sam, “And how am I supposed to get to either place?”

Sam grins shyly and produces a small metal box, “That’s where this little device comes into play.” He pops open the box and presents it to me, revealing a thick metal ring. I pick the ring out of the box and balance it in my palm. It’s surprisingly heavy and wide enough to nearly cover the top joint of my pointer finger. The band is a dull gunmetal that's inlaid with arcane circuitry and crystals and a flowing web of liquid quicksilver. It’s very pretty but I suspect it’s more than just jewelry. “What is it?” I ask.

“I called in a rather large favour from one of my senior Ürnaut contacts and had them build us a covert insertion platform.”

“A thievery MacGuffin,” Gan Ceann translates.

“The device is calibrated to detect the quantum emissions of the Memory Crystal and lead you there by tactile cues.”

“The ring is a dowsing rod for the Black Box,” Gan Ceann sticks out a fist and waves it around. “It’ll vibrate when you’re pointed the right way, then just follow it hotter-colder to the objective.”

“Okay,” I nod. That’s one problem solved.

“The device should shield you from Reptilian electronic surveillance, but won’t help you elude sentient observers.”

“Ring of Stealth +1, not a Ring of Invisibility.”

“The device can also align your subatomic probability fields in opposition to material objects for infiltration exploits.”

I blink and look at Gan Ceann, “What?”

“The ring will let you walk through walls, darling.”

“For a very limited number of times. That little trick has a high energy cost, and the power-plant on such a small device is inherently limited. So use it judiciously.” Sam frowns, “Also be aware that the energy cost rises exponentially as distance increases.”

“Use it on thin doors,” Gan Ceann says, “Not thick walls.”

“Okay, so the ring will tell me where to go and let me phase through doors.” That’s helpful.

“It can also rapidly download the contents of the Memory Crystal. Simply touch the device to the objective and you will have the entire archive in less than a second.”

“Steal the data not the Black Box,” Gan Ceann instructs primly.

Okay, that seems like a reasonable plan to get me there. “How do I escape?”

Sam smiles regretfully, “Ideally you’ll have gotten the data without being observed and can simply leave with Embassy.”

“And if I get caught?”

Gan Ceann holds up her hand and points to the finger I wear my HAL-E ring on. “Then I’d invoke my personal guardian angel to rapture me out of there.”

I frown, “That seems like… an abuse of her trust.”

Gan Ceann shrugs, “You’ll be in terrible danger and honestly, I think she wants to know about the contents of that Memory Crystal too.”

“Shouldn’t we at least ask her first?”

“No. As much as I’d value her help in this endeavor, her governor programming might stop her from interfering. The less she knows about our plan, the easier it’ll be for her to rescue you if it comes to that.” Gan Ceann runs a hand along the unbroken smooth line of her shoulders, “I think this is one of those times where it’s better to ask for forgiveness.”

“Okay.” I push the Ürnaut ring onto my left pointer finger and blow a puff of air out of the slits behind my ears. “I get into the Pyramid with Embassy, find the Memory Crystal with the magic ring, and either sneak out or escape.”

Gan Ceann does a little golf clap, “Bravo.”

“I guess all that’s left is to go see Clem about a womb upgrade…”



I’m standing outside Clementine’s little apartment feeling so nervous I could puke, which seems like it would be awful to do through a cunt. I’m scared about the Shaping, of being transformed again. My mind keeps flashing back to the Sleeping God and the wonderful, terrible feeling of being physically warped by my own corrupted imagination. I shiver, will this be like that? Like the perverse hunger of the Sleeping God? The eradicating bliss of the Grey Artist’s aesthetic? The uncaring numb mechanism of the Ürnaut penal system? Or will voluntary Shaping feel different? Nice, maybe? It will be with Clem, Clementine, someone I trust and maybe still love, or whatever. Could Shaping be beautiful? But oh fuck! Clementine! I fight down another burble of anxiety nausea. I’m not ready to deal with that either! What are we to each other? What do I want from her? Well… maybe more importantly what does she want from me? We’ve barely even talked! Is having her rework my womb for alien accommodation really the right signal to send? Hey babe, we should date, but also I want extraterrestrial slime living in my cunt! And oh Jesus, before this Clem was fixing up my new pussy face! She must think I’m a freak! Why didn’t I talk to her sooner? When I was still pretty old human me. I’m starting to hyperventilate, air rushing through the slits behind my ears and blowing out my cunt. I make myself stop, close my eyes, and take three deep breaths before I faint. I feel my racing heart start to slow. It’s going to be okay…

“Are you going to stand there all day or come inside?” I see Pussy perched behind an open window watching me with her green feline eyes. “I don’t really care, but you should know you look quite stupid.”

“Thanks for the heads up.” I open my eyes and glare.

Pussy rolls her eyes and lashes her tail, “Just go to the door, it’ll open for you.”

I glare at the catgirl and walk up to the space-hatch apartment door, which opens to me with a bright “Hi Halley!”. I step through the tiny airlock vestibule and into the main living space where I’m confronted by Pussy standing naturally on all four paws, her tail twitching. She tilts her head and studies me, and then slinks around me, brushing against my legs with her naked skin.  “Take the facemask off, I want to see.”


“Mrrrow, I’m curious.”

“Isn’t that dangerous for cats?”

Pussy sniffs, “Be that way.”

“Where’s Clementine?” I ask, eager to be away from my porno kitty doppleganger.

“In here!” A musical voice sings from the bedroom.

I head that way and find Clementine perched on her bed folding laundry and looking radiant. Her long silver hair is clipped up in a sloppy bun that shows off the elegant curve of her neck and the lacquered swirl of her ram horns. She’s wearing an oversized black t-shirt that doesn’t quite hide the swell of her three breasts and skintight tiny shorts that show off her wide hips and the bulge at her crotch. She has her digitigrade legs tucked up under herself and her long tail rests limply on the floor. Clem puts down the lacy panties she’s folding and smiles brightly when she sees me. “Hi.”

“Hey yourself…” My heart is racing and I’m suddenly way too happy to see her. I blush and try to think of something to say and notice Clem’s black t-shirt has a knockoff flying saucer graphic that says I WANT TO BELIEVE. “X-files, huh?”

Clem composes her face very seriously, “The truth is out there.”

I giggle, maybe a little nervously, and she grins. Clem looks so casual and at ease and sexy, effortlessly beautiful and in her element. She somehow looks like Clem-the-boyfriend, although the big tee and shorts outfit looks much better on her than it ever did on him. It’s a striking contrast to the last time when I saw her all dolled up in a formal dress for her fancy client. “I guess I don’t get the VIP treatment,” I say playfully trying to flirt.

Clem’s eyes go wide and she gestures at the neat stacks of folded clothing on her bed. “What do you mean? This is the cleanest my bedroom has been in literally years!”

“I’m honored,” I say with mock gravitas, thinking about the heaps of dirty floor laundry I’d seen in her bedroom before. I run my fingers through my hair and smile with my eyes, “I’m also impressed you actually learned how to fold a shirt.”

“I’ve become sophisticated,” Clementine stretches her body in a way that makes my heart flutter and other parts of my body tingle. The mystery of the loose UFO shirt only makes me want to see her tits more, somehow. “I’m not quite the slob you lived with in the trailer park.”

“No. No you’re not.” You enchanted creature. “But you’re bedroom is still usually a pigsty.”

“Guilty!” She says with a laugh. Clem tilts her head and purses her full lips. “How are you?”


Clem shakes her head and looks sheepish, “No, I meant, how are you getting used to the, you know…”

“Pussy on my face?” I touch the holstein cow-print facemask I’m wearing.


“Oh…” How am I doing? “I’m getting used to it, I guess? Eating is still an adventure, and I don’t really like being exposed in public, but I don’t hate it?” I blush and wonder how much Clementine can see, “It’s really fun… in the bedroom. There are times when it feels like it’s worth the trouble.”

“That good, huh?”

“You have no idea.” I slip a finger under the earstrap of my mask; should I take it off? Clem has seen my new face already, probably studied it pretty thoroughly when she did her damage control Shaping. Besides, if this is ever going to happen between us again she’s has to like how I really look. I might as well show her and get it over with. I slowly peel the mask off my face, baring my pussymouth to Clementine: clitoris, labia, and slit. “I wanted to thank you for your help. All those little changes really made this more manageable.”

Clem stares at the cunt on my face with intent fascination. I try not to squirm or tun away, to be confident with my obscene face. She looks curious, interested, and is that lust in her eyes? Does she like it? “I’m glad I could help,” Clem says, forcing herself to make eye contact again, “I’m just sorry I couldn’t do more.”

“It’s okay,” I smile with my eyes, dimpled cheeks tugging on my labia, “I’m getting used to it.”

Clementine nods her head thoughtfully, like Clem used to when he’d understood something important. She daintily swings her cloven hooves to the floor, moves her tail out of the way, and pats the bed next to her. “So I have you scheduled for an Aquarium Job today, right?”

Oh shit! My uterus to alien womb conversion! Ugh! I stammer, suddenly embarrassed by why I’m here, “Yes, but…”

Clem giggles and waves a hand to stop me. “It’s cool, it’s cool. The Naiad are frequent clients of mine, and being their vessel is an okay gig as long as you can, well, stomach the assignment,” She grins at her little joke. “And Embassy is a straight-shooter.” She shrugs, “It’s far from the worst job on Flotsam.”

I sit on the bed next to Clem, too aware of how close she is. “It’s only a trial run,” I murmur while avoiding eye contact, “I’m still looking for my place here, and I thought this could be a way to see a different part of Flotsam.” And also my ticket into an alien crimelord’s fortress for a secret mission.

“Mmhmm,” Clem says, her mind elsewhere as she thinks. “I’ll need you to lay down on the bed and take off your underwear.”

“Um?” Take off my panties?

“Think of it like a medical exam.”

“Oh.” Administered by my extremely hot ex who I’m totally crushing on. Simple. No problem.

“I’m not going to do any… penetration. It just helps me visualize what I’m Shaping if I can see your body.” She gives me an apologetic smile, “It’s hard to explain.”

“No it’s fine.” Clem is already staring at my face cooch, I might as show him the original too. I hitch up the skirt of my gingham dress, and slip out of my underwear, dropping them to the floor. I squirm onto the bed and lay on my back. “Okay.”

Clementine climbs onto the bed and kneels among the folded laundry. “Can you lift your skirt up higher?”

“Yeah.” I poke my Keyband and command my dress to relax, making the garment go from snugly fitted to loose like a hospital gown. I lift up the hem and bunch it up around my breasts, leaving my body bare from my chest to my toes. “This okay?”

“Perfect.” Clem gently takes my legs and lifts them, bending them at the knee and spreading them so my pussy is exposed. Looking up, I can see her crouch over me like a lover. She chews a plump lip and her eyes trace over my flat stomach, wide hips, and the mound of my enlarged, prominent pussy. I feel a flush of heat deep in my body; it feels like she’s about to go down on me. I can feel myself getting wet. “This might feel a bit intense,” Clem says, “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” I say, almost with a gasp.

Clementine tucks a stray lock of silver hair behind her horn and stares intently at my pussy. She blows out a slow breath and I feel a strange warmth flow through my stomach. “Mmmm,” she hums, leaning closer to me and concentrating. She reaches out with a slender finger and I feel tingles race through my flesh and swirl like Clem is magnetic. She moves her finger through the air and my guts grow warmer, a sensation like glowing, and I feel a cringe deep in my core, like a period ache but not painful. Pins and needles spread through what must be my uterus and I squirm, suddenly aware of the exact dimensions of my womb. “Okay,” Clem whispers and then she touches me right below the navel and I moan as a flare of pleasure erupts inside me and races down my vagina. “Jesus!” I gasp and try to close my legs, but Clementine is between them and her palm is flat on my stomach and waves of heat and sensation are boiling through my cunt. I close my eyes and bite my lip and fuck it feels so good! Like my whole cunt is being massaged from the inside! Clem places another hand on my stomach and I feel my insides begin to change somehow, not swell or move, but become qualitatively different. Transmutation within the pounding waves of sexual pleasure. I’m panting and I can feel my pussy, my pussies, all engorge and swell, hungry and wet and needy. Clem’s face is pinched with focus and she’s breathing hard and sweating, her shirt damp and clinging at the chest and arms. “Tricky,” she grunts. I moan and buck my hips, desperate to be fucked, driven wild by the relentless stimulation. Clementine moves one hand lower and cups my swollen, boiling, gushing pussy and I mewl and grind my achingly hard clit against her. Clem’s body clenches and I feel my insides shift, actually change shape a little, become something new. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I gasp. Clem wipes sweat from her forehead and then sits up, quickly pulls her shirt up and off, her three perfect breasts falling pertly free, her long silver hair knocked loose and wild. Her three dark nipples are tight and hard and exquisite. She grabs me tightly by my wide hips and leans forward and like she’s about to… But instead she presses her forehead to my belly and the roiling storm in my body intensifies, multiplies, explodes! I yelp and try to buck, but Clementine holds on and uses her body weight to press me down onto the bed. I flail my legs and knock her laundry piles over, scatter to them to the floor. The pleasure is endless, constant, incredible! Fuck! But I’m caught on the edge! The awesome stimulation is somehow too diffuse to orgasm. I need to fucking come! I need to! I jam three fingers into my mouthpussy and start fucking my face, use my other hand to frantically rub my facial clit! Fuck! I’ve lost control and fuck I can’t stop and Clementine is on top of me like a lover and I can feel her tits on my thighs, her hard nipples on my skin, her gasping breath on my cunt, and oh fuck all the sexy alien feelings happening in my cunt and FUCK!!!! “Ahhhhhnnnnngghhhhh!!!!”


I blink my eyes back into focus and see an angel smiling down at me. She’s perfect, radiant. Her messy silver hair hangs down and frames our faces and her three tits are brushing against mine. “Beautiful,” Clementine says.

“Wha?” I pull my slick fingers out of my facial cunt.

“You’re beautiful,” Clementine says, smiling and blushing a little.

“Oh,” I’m blushing too.

“The Shaping is done,” Clem says and I feel fingers gently stroke my naked belly. “It was a little tricky to work around your other changes, but we got there.”

“Mmmm.” Did we ever. “Felt nice,” I say.

“I could tell,” Clem says with frank attraction in her eyes.

“We should do this again.” I say without really thinking. I blush and feel Clem’s tail brush my leg.

“We should.” The tail strokes my calf.

I feel my vulva tingle, I want to kiss her. And why the fuck not? “What about right now?”

Clem laughs and kisses me on the forehead, her lips warm and soft. “I think you have a diplomatic engagement to get to…”

“Oh right!”


“You’re late,” Embassy says, arms crossed under her enormous chest and above the bulge of her massive, pregnant-looking belly.

“No I’m not,” I say, because I’m perfectly on time.

“Well you aren’t early,” Embassy grumbles. Halley-15 looks more pregnant than ever, her body swollen enough to be carrying a dozen children or maybe a baby elephant. She is dressed in another skintight cerulean swimsuit, probably crotchless. She has a short sarong tied around her hips for modesty and an iridescent gauzy robe draped around her shoulders. “Punctuality is preferred.”


“Come along, we don’t have time to waste.” Embassy turns and leads me down a familiar hallway to the large pool where I first met her. She waddles and puffs her way over to a table holding a stack of folded clothes. “Outside clothes off, swimsuit on.”



I turn my back to Embassy and tell my clothes to relax. I step out of my loosened dress, and remove my bra and underwear. I take a deep breath and peel the facemask off too, and then pile my garments on the table. I pick up the swimsuit, a mint green one-piece, the fabric feeling cool and slick in my hands. I give it a tug and it stretches effortlessly before relaxing back into its original shape, like a perfected futuristic spandex. I squirm into the swimsuit, slipping in one leg and then another, stretch the suit wide over my wide hips and ass, before pulling the straps over my shoulders. I adjust my tits and go to fix the crotch and notice it’s split open and totally exposes my cunt. “Nice.”

“I would have thought you’d be past feeling shy,” Embassy says, nodding at my vulgar face. She sees me scowl and looks slightly apologetic. “Anyway, come sit on the edge of the pool and open your legs.”


“If you want to infiltrate the Dragon’s Pyramid you’ll need a passenger onboard.” She pats her enormously taut belly. “We need you to look the part, after all, and there might be scanners at the door.”


“Just relax and think of something sexy.” Embassy blushes a little, “It’s not unpleasant as long as you steer into it.”

“Okay….” I cautiously sit by the edge of the pool, legs tucked up tight, the ass of my swimsuit instantly damp. Up close the pool has a briny funk like the ocean and I see the bottom of the pool is covered in sand and has coral and seaweed growing from it. I squint looking for signs of the Naiad, maybe a motion flicker of unexplained currents or a discoloration in the water, but I don’t see anything. Am I really about to do this? It’s way too late now. I take a deep calming breath, scoot closer to the edge, and slip my legs into the pool, which is warmer than I expected. I brace myself on my hands and slowly kick my legs in the water. “Now what?”

“Spread your legs.”

I swallow heavily and fight down a burble of anxiety. You can do this. I force myself to open my legs, spreading them as far as they’ll go, exposing the swollen bulge of my pussy to the surface of the pool. I shiver, less from the cool air than nerves. Think sexy thoughts! I scramble for a fantasy; what’s hot? I think about the Shaping, the intense pleasure of having my pussy remodeled, and try to daydream about Clementine’s magic flowing through me again. I feel myself starting to warm up, my heart beating a little faster, a nice tightness in my belly. I see the surface of the pool ripple, watch something invisible create a little wake. The Naiad. I bite my lip, try and fend off a need to panic. Think about Clem, think about Shaping, think about Clem taking off her shirt and showing her incredible tits. The strange current skims across the pool and stops just in front of me, swirling into a little whirlpool, and then coalescing into a bulge that raises above the water. I take a deep breath and fight the urge to snap my legs closed. I can do this, I can do this. Fantasy Clementine, naked now, still touching me, massaging my belly, pleasure arcing through me. Mmmm. The Naiad pushes itself into a column, a liquid tendril aimed at my cunt. It looks hesitant, uncertain. Is it nervous too? I try to look inviting, spread my legs wider and scoot closer, ass half in the pool. Come on already! I imagine Clementine crawling on top of me and touching me with her hard cock, using it as a focal point for Shaping, an especially magic wand. I’m wet and fuck it, steer in right? I reach up with damp fingers and start to stroke the pussy on my face. Mmm yes. My original pussy is wet now, in two ways, and ready to be filled. The Naiad seems to get the hint and stretches and oh! Something wet and warm is touching my labia. I close my eyes and pretend it’s Clem, rubbing her cock against my hungry pussy. “Yesssss…” I feel the Naiad flow up and around my hips and a wet pressure build against my slit. I stroke my facial pussy faster and try to pretend it’s Clementine, but the flow of warm water is too different, the sensation is wrong. I gasp and feel pressurized liquid push into me, penetrate me. It’s too weird! But…. What if it was still Clem? In my imagination Clementine becomes transparent, becomes a woman made of water, and she’s still trying to fuck me, but her cock isn’t solid, it’s a liquid tendril. A liquid tendril she is pushing into me, pumping into me. I moan, yeah this works! I feel the pressure on my cunt increase and feel my pussy stretch open, forced wide, and I gasp! Oh. Ohhhh… The fluid pushes in further, warmth and force flowing up my vagina, stretching it so wide, filling it completely. “Fff-ffuckkk…” I’m fucking my facecunt and juices are dripping down my chin. I feel the Naiad, no Liquid Clementine, bottom out inside me, but then push further, splash through what must be my cervix and into my womb, a sudden burst of warmth like cum! I gasp and feel myself orgasm! Buck my hips and moan! But the sensation is different, the hot spray doesn’t stop, it just keeps coming, more and more hot liquid is flowing into my belly, my womb. I gasp as I suddenly feel something new! Something alien! I open my eyes and see my stomach start to swell! A reverse waterfall from the pool flows into my cunt, and my belly bulges like I’m pregnant and just starting to show. Oh fuck! Oh it feels so good! I groan and come again! I pull my grool slick hand from my face and rest it against my tummy bump. It feels hard and warm and oh fuck, it’s still growing! Another orgasm rips through me and I feel my belly grow and grow and grow! So taut and round and hot! Fuck! My belly is so big! I can’t see my cunt anymore! Just the top curve of my bulging body! I must look six months pregnant! Oh fuck! Oh Jesus! And then with a shivery sensation I feel the penetrating flow cut off, my vagina suddenly empty, but my womb still so hot and full. I moan and lay on my back, legs still in the water, huge belly stuck out above me, panting. “Oh fuck….”

Embassy chuckles, “You’re a natural.”

“That was…” I gasp, “…Intense…”

“Don’t get too comfortable, you aren’t done yet.”


“You have two more to go…”


“Calista! You absolute bitch!”

Calista giggles, “What? She had it coming!”

I’m traveling in the back of a sleek floating limo thing along with six other very pregnant looking “Consulates”. I’m nervous and uncomfortable and I really need to pee. I squirm and try to find a comfortable way to sit that doesn’t squish my bladder. “Ooof.”

“It takes a few times to get used to it,” the woman next to me says warmly. She’s middle-aged and has a kindly round face with smile wrinkled eyes. She gives me a motherly pat on the arm. “Just remember to breath and take it slow and you’ll do fine.”

My hands stroke the ninth-month-plus bulge of my inflated stomach, “It’s just so big…”

“You know, you don’t have to wear your veil till we get there,” the woman across from me accuses. She has frizzy red hair, a gap in her teeth, and a cheap officiousness. I self-consciously touch the veil over my face, a convenient part of the Consulate uniform that hides my pussymouth. “Um?” I say.

“Oh chill the fuck out Plam,” says a striking woman with the matter-of-fact demeanor of a seasoned sex worker. “Leave the new girl alone.”

Plam crosses her arms above her pregnant belly in a huff and Motherly gives my arm another pat, “It’s fine to be shy, although you shouldn’t feel bad about working as a Consulate. It’s a good job.” She reinforces her eye wrinkles with a smile, “The Naiad pay well and it gets me out of the house for an evening.”

The striking woman lets out a filthy laugh, “It’s certainly the most honest work I’ve used my pussy for.”

“Ahnja!” Plam scolds.

Ahnja grins and rubs her swollen belly, “Way better snacks too. Love a canapé.”

Another woman with a deeply freckled face and earnest eyes says, “I’m just glad to be part of the Naiadine Mission.” She strokes her alien bulge tenderly. “It’s nice to contribute to something bigger than yourself.”

Ahnja rolls her eyes, “Suck up.”

Calista laughs, “You just want a full time job working for Embassy!” Freckles blushes and Motherly gives her a sympathetic frown.

Ômné, the petite Naiadine functionary, claps her hands for attention. “Alright ladies, cut the chatter! You all know the rules: once we arrive you all become Consulates. You are living vessels for the Naiad, so you go where they tell you, and you do so quietly. No more socializing,” She gives Calista a pointed look. “Do not endanger your charges or cause a diplomatic incident.” She smiles, “Enjoy the snacks, but in moderation please. Absolutely no alcohol or narcotics.” She gives each of us a cutely stern look, “The security word is Angola and the escape plan is Scarlet.”

The other pregnant-looking women all nod and repeat “Angola. Scarlet.”

The flying limo arrests and thumps onto its landing gear. “Veils ladies,” Ômné says as she affixes her own headdress. “We’re here.”

Fuck me, it’s go time.


To be continued.


Re: Flotsam

Chapter 26: https://indigocarminefiction.blogspot.c … er-26.html

Chapter 26: Into The Dragon's Den

I lean against the carved stone pillar and use my veil to wipe sweat off my face. It’s too fucking hot and too fucking humid and my enormously full belly feels like a built in water heater and never fucking mind that I’ve snuck into a gala to steal from an alien crimelord! I try and take a deep calming breath before I freak out, but only manage a shallow little gasp before my diaphragm bottoms out on my inflated womb. Fuck! This is so stupid! Why did I agree to this?! I tilt my head back and rest a hand on the hard bulge of my expanded belly and feel something inside me move. Fucking fuck!

Okay Halley, okay. Calm down before you fuck this up…

I close my eyes and count instead of breath. One two three four five six seven… I feel the magic thievery ring on my hand pulse, slow and steady, like a sleeping heartbeat. I focus on that, slow my head count to match it, try and force my heart to catch the rhythm. Eight, nine, ten. Eleven. Twelve. Okay. You’re okay.

I open my eyes and look to see if anyone is watching me freak out. I’m off in a corner, behind a decorative pillar near one of the big tropical planters that line the atrium. The planter is filled with lush short trees, broad leaf jungle plants, expansive alien flowers, and a worrying number of free-range snakes. I watch a huge red and gold serpent lunge and swallow a hapless lizard and shiver. Not exactly a subtle metaphor, but at least it wasn’t a pregnant rat. I glance around and there’s no one here but me, my womb passengers, and the pet wildlife.

I peak around the pillar and scan the rest of the atrium. The space is big like a church, or, well, exactly like a throne room, with a high angled ceiling that lets light stream in from some kind of skylight at the apex of the Pyramid. There is a raised dais on one end of the room with a fancy vacant chair and an enormous tapestry made of shed reptile skins and feathers. Gathered on the wide obsidian ballroom floor is a crowd of sapients, a motley collection of mingling interstellar politicians and criminals. I spot Embassy in a tense discussion with a large Reptilian, an elderly female showing the faded scales of advanced age. A younger female with breeding plumage listens carefully, while two of my fellow veiled Naiadine Consulates stand attentively nearby. A human slave, a hot girl wearing only a tiny linen skirt and jewelry struts by carrying a chilled platter of raw meat morsels. She has a wide Egyptian-looking collar of jet black and jade scales above her naked breasts and an armlet locked around her arm shaped like a steel serpent with glowing LED eyes. A party of beautiful elves dressed in living botanical costumes and gossamer hold court in one corner of the room, while tiny pixie-like creatures flit between them like fireflies. Resplendent but disreputable Blue merchants mingle with Reptilian males and scaly human agents. A statuesque human woman wearing a black dress with Tron-like glowing seams looks bored while a sweaty little man in a shabby tweed suit pontificates. Reptilian House Matrons in color-coded formal robes stand with their matching entourages, studiously separated and on guard, here but not to party. Walking mechanical fishbowls lumber around carrying what look like mermaids. A few of the aquariums are sealed reinforced spheres with humanoid fish women, blue and green and scaled, with long fishy tails instead of legs. They have elaborate gills at their throats and fins and tentacles instead of hair and black sharky eyes. Other fishbowls are open at the top, glass bathtubs holding classical mermaids with voluptuous human bodies above the waist and brilliantly scaled tails from the hips down. The rival Aquarian delegation I assume. I notice two humans who look uncannily like Karl Sagan and his wife dressed in brilliant white jumpsuits. They smile in my direction and simultaneously raise their hands in greeting and I squeak and slip back behind the pillar.

I do another ten count and then waddle along the planter, pretending to enjoy the tropical plants but really looking for guards. I see them everywhere: lean Reptilian males dressed in smart black leather uniforms armed with steel bucklers and ceremonial knives and prominent sidearm blasters. They are posted around the room, watchfully flanking major entrances and in corners, distributed to quickly intervene anywhere and control traffic. Or do a Red Wedding. A few elevated male Reptilians in dressier uniforms circulate through the crowd, mingling, and I spot that vicious little red-scaled male from the Arena in discussion with a Naiadine Consulate and an Aquarian mermaid. So lots of security and lots of weapons. Great!

I stop behind another pillar and think. How do I even do this? I hold up my hand and look at my magic thievery ring for answers, but it just continues to pulse slow and steady. The Memory Crystal must be here somewhere, the ring didn’t start nudging me until I was through security and inside the Pyramid. But where in the building is it? Up or down or other? I close my eyes and rub my hand across the expanse of my alien baby bump, subtly trying to scan the room with the magic ring. I focus on the sensations from the ring and feel the pulse rate stay the same, nothing to indicate a hotter direction. I reach down with my ring hand to adjust my sarong for the hundredth time, try to somehow get it to stay over my generous hips but below the bulge of my belly. The ring doesn’t speed up at all moving down either, so probably the crystal isn’t below me? I reach up and pretend to fiddle with my veil and yes! The ring is a tiny bit faster! I think? I go up on my tip toes and do a big reaching stretch and it’s subtle, but the ring is definitely quicker the higher up it goes! I guess Gan Ceann is right and the memory crystal is being kept upstairs. Upstairs in the Serpent’s private apartments. Jesus! Fuck! Damn. Okay. Now I just have to figure out how to sneak up there…


“Ah!” I nearly jump out of my swimsuit!

“Stop skulking, you look suspicious.” It’s Embassy, Halley-15, and she looks serious. “We require a private conference, follow me please. Now.”

“Yes Embassy?” I fall into step behind her, waddling in her wake. What did I do wrong? Is she about to warn me that the jig is already up? Our flip-flops slap loudly as we puff our way across the floor. Another slave girl wearing a collar of onyx and lapis lazuli scales approaches us with a tray of fermented fruit and salamander roe, but swerves off when she sees Embassy’s scowl. Embassy steers us across the atrium, past groups of politely chatting sapients, and towards a doorway, but stops short, and I almost bump into her. There is a mermaid in a robot fishbowl blocking our way. “Representative Delphi,” Embassy says warmly.

The mermaid bites her plump lip and perches on the rim of her giant tumbler, her bountiful breasts pressed against the glass. “Embassy!” Delphi says playfully, her voice musical.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Embassy replies, running a hand through her hair and actually smiling a little.

“The work never finishes,” The mermaid songfully sighs, using a webbed hand to push her wet teal hair behind finned ears. “These Reptilian Matrons are, I must aver, swimming us both through a lightless-maze-cavern in these negotiations. I grow so weary fighting against their current.” Her long sinuous teal and pink tail twists beautifully, shimmering a little.

“As do I,” Embassy grins, a real one too, nothing politic or predatory about it. “They really act like Sssnickssskill-5 was their homeworld, instead of a half-frozen water moon…”

Delphi rolls her eyes, “And the Reptiles can hardly even swim!”

Embassy giggles and then blushes a little, tries to compose her face, “Your masters could always pull out of the deal…”

Delphi laughs musically with a hint of echo location, “Oh, how I yearn for them to forfeit! But alas, the Hallowed-Deep-Ones know only hunger and patience.” She smiles and uncoils, lifting herself up and over the lip of the fishbowl, her heavy tits hanging magnificently. “Would that our Lords and your Patrons could learn to school! We could divide the waters of Sssnickssskill-5! The abyssal-darkness-depths for my Masters and the sunkissed-bright-shallows for yours, divided by the frigid-cold-thermocline.” She pouts and shakes her head, “We could stop swimming at crosscurrents and root ourselves to a united position, and certainly receive a more favorable deal.”

Embassy smiles ruefully, “Is this an official offer?”

Delphi leans even further out of her bowl and smiles impishly. “No, this is my unofficial hope for alliance. Professional…” She licks her lips and touches Embassy on the nose with a wet finger, “Personal…”

Embassy blushes, “Oh.”

Delphi slides back into her mechanical aquarium and rests comfortably on her tail like a stool, “Perhaps we can float together some-tide to discuss a closer relationship…”

Embassy touches her huge belly and squirms a bit, “I’d like that…”

“Then I shall be in touch,” Delphi sings as her fishbowl starts to crawl. Embassy looks after her, watching her plush but fishy ass be carried away. Embassy sighs and then glares at me, “Not a word.”

And then she’s waddling again, “Follow.” I lumber along behind her with all the grace of a living mechanical fishbowl until we leave the main atrium and enter a small private meeting chamber. Embassy seals the door behind us and unties her sarong, exposing her swollen pussy. She steps close to me, or as close as our hugely pregnant bellies allow, and yanks my sarong off too. I feel a humid breeze on my own suddenly naked cunt. “What the fuck?”

Embassy leans in, presses her cheek to my veiled face, and quietly whispers, “We need to get my Patrons out of you before your little adventure…”

“What?” I whisper. Embassy steps behind me, grasps my shoulders, and firmly guides me to a conference table. She pushes me over and yanks my hips so I’m bent with the weight of my bloated belly hanging below me and my feet apart. I feel Embassy’s even larger pregnant abdomen, taut and hard and warm, press against my soft ass. “Shit,” Embassy says, “Bend your knees.” Which I do, still a bit confused, and then I feel Embassy grind her crotch against me and something inside my core swells and opens with a sudden sharp pressure. “Oh!” Embassy wraps her arms around me, humps tighter to me, “Push,” she gasps, “Don’t fight it.” And the pressure starts to flow down, into my pussy, stretching me like being fucked in reverse. I moan and Embassy caresses my dangling tits, “Go with it, mmmm… Like before…” The hot wet heat pushes further and recedes, further and recedes, the tidal action of fluid looking for a crack. I suck at the labia on my face and squirm in anticipation, feel my pussy get wet and engorge. The pressure inside pushes harder, gets closer, but doesn’t quite escape. Embassy pants in my ear and her hand strokes my belly, reaches lower, gently touches my bare crotch. “Yes….” I whisper, “Please…” Embassy nips my ear and her fingers touch my slick bulging labia, slide tantalizingly forward, and brush the pulsing aching tightness of my clit. I moan and Embassy clutches me tighter, presses her hips to mine, starts to rub my cunt. “Ahhh….” I groan as I feel the hot pressure inside squirm and writhe and flow outward, stretching me open. I squat a little lower and bear down, push like giving birth, as hard as I can, and I feel the thing inside me squeeze and slide, open me wide and crown, and then force itself out of me. “Aggggnnnhhh!” Something like an orgasm ripples through me and my knees go weak. Embassy holds me up and keeps rubbing my clit. My pussymouth is wet and dribbling down my chin, filling my veil with cunt smell. I look down and see a tendril of fluid reaching out from my crotch like a tentacle, like a cock, and feel the bizarre sensation of something rooted in my pussy wave in the air. “Oh fuck!” Embassy presses herself against me with a new urgency, a hunger, and I feel her abandon me, sense her caress the Naiad and guide it to her pussy. She moans and humps at me as the fluid alien forces itself into her, connecting our cunts by an animate river. We both whimper, voices the same, and the Naiad starts to pump itself between us. Embassy moans as the Naiad flows through us, a pulsing hot mass that gushes out of my womb and sprays itself into her cunt. Embassy clutches my breasts and wails, and I see stars and orgasm and shiver in her arms. The intense flow inside me tapers off, shrinks to a tickle, leaks out of me in a final dribble, and I’m left panting and maybe a little lighter. “Th-there…” Embassy gasps, standing unsteadily on rubbery legs, “All done.”

I wheeze a lungful of air, my face burning from sex, my cunt aching and mouthpussy huge and wet and hungry. I look down and see my belly is still round and pregnant, smaller now, maybe six months instead of nine. Oh fuck, do we have to do that again? “Is there more?” I pant.

Embassy’s face is red and she's wiping sweat from her brow. Her belly is somehow even larger than before. “No,” she puffs, stroking her huge bulge, “All the Naiad who needed to change wombs made the trip.”

I stroke my own belly, still so round and hard, but definitely more manageable. “Then um, why am I still a maternity wear model?”

“It’s just retained water,” Embassy says quietly while retying her sarong. “We loaded you up with extra fluid so you’d still look right running empty.” She fixes her swimsuit and wipes her sex sticky fingers on her skirt with a frown, “Your body will absorb and clear it over the next few days.”

“Okay.” I guess.

Embassy looks at me, smiles, shakes her head and starts to waddle away, “Stay out of trouble, Consulate.”

“Right.” I take a deep breath and try to ignore the delicious throb of my pussy. A girl could get used to this Consulate gig, although that’s not why I’m here. I reach under my veil, wipe pussy drool off my face, and tie my sarong back around my waist, a job made a little easier by my more modest baby-free bump. “Okay,” I look around the privacy room and see I’m still alone. I reach out with my fist and point the magic thievery ring upwards and yep, the Memory Crystal is definitely above me. I just need to figure out how to get there…

I try to look calm and casual and waddle back into the atrium. I study the crowd and see the illicit schmoozing is still going strong. A beautiful human woman with feathers for hair and artfully grown splashes of silver scales talks quietly with a Blue Deviant wrapped in metal bands stamped with lizard hide etchings. Aggronotham the Strongest, the famed Orkonian gladiator, guzzles from two tiny champaign flutes surrounded by a pack of admiring Reptilian males. A large alien I don’t recognize in a heavy environment suit clomps glumly through the gathering like the Michellin Man wearing a welding helmet. The Dragon’s throne is still vacant and there is no sign of the Serpent. I look up above and remember there’s a public balcony on the second level. Somehow I need to get up there…

“A great many pardons, but do you have desire to try a sweet morsel?” It’s another slavegirl holding a tray of what look like hard fruit balls on a string like anal beads. This slave has pale bluish skin and indigo nipples on her large breasts and wears a wide collar with golden scale highlights. “Excuse me,” I say, trying for a receptionistic helpful timidity, “My Patrons wish to view the party from the balcony. Can you direct me to the way up?” I stroke my round belly lovingly and the slavegirl blinks her kohl stained eyes and shakes her head, making the gold beads in her hair click. “The lift is to be found yonder,” she says with a chittering accent and gracefully points towards a doorway hidden between two jungle planters. I grab one of her canapés and waddle in the direction of the doorway. “Thank you.”

I roll like a ship through the crowd, careful to avoid anyone preggo-shaped or floating in a robot fishbowl, and almost barge into a sapient. I give a little shriek and wobble, wrong-footed by my weird center of gravity, but just manage to catch myself from flopping over, and find myself looking down at the red-scaled male lieutenant of the Serpent. “I’m very sorry!” I gasp. The male Reptilian tilts his head and studies me intensely, his long forked tongue flicking in and out. “You ssshould be more careful,” The male hisses calmly, still staring at me, yellow slit eyes calculating. “Of course,” I murmur, “Excuse me.” The red darts aside with a sinuous grace, “Be ssssafe.” I quickly waddle away, glancing back to see the red male watching me, hands resting on his pair of ceremonial daggers. Fuck! I hastily stumble through the gala to the lift doorway and step into what I think is going to be an elevator. I’m breathing heavily and can feel a trickle of sweat down my back and I’m crushing the canapé anal beads in my fist. Fuck, that felt too close! I take a shuddering breath and peek out the doorway to see if I was followed, and the coast is clear, no sign of that terrifying little red fucker. Okay. I look for a control panel to activate the lift, eager to get some more distance, but see only smooth surfaces. How does thing even work? Shit. “Where is the up bu…Ah!!!” I’m suddenly lifted by an invisible force, flung steadily upward, carried off the ground and swiftly to the second level. I awkwardly fall off the immaterial platform onto the public balcony and stumble to a stop. “Jesus Christ…”

I stand up and straighten my sarong and swimsuit and then glance around to see if anyone is watching. The balcony is about ten feet wide and wraps around the entire second level of the Pyramid overlooking the atrium. Lush tropical plants hang down from planters attached to the balcony barrier and climbing flower vines cling to the surrounding walls. It makes the space feel like an intimate garden, a place for secrets. My quick scan shows that there are only a few sapients on the balcony, mostly standing in pairs or trios, heads tilted together in secretive conference. None of them seem interested in me, beyond maybe a quick glance to make sure I’m not spying on them. I waddle to an empty space and post up on the glass barrier and look down at the atrium below. The hanging plants obscure my view a bit, but I can still make out the ebb and flow of the crowd: the way Naiad consulates and Aquarian mermaids gravitate to the Reptilian House entourages, the way merchant Blues and humans peel off with the elevated male reptilians or scaled humans of the Serpent’s household, the steady circulation of Dragon guards. I take a deep breath and try to relax, force myself to look at ease, like I’m supposed to be up here taking a look. Like it’s official business. Diplomatic reconnaissance. I open my sticky hand and remember the fruit ball anal beads, now just a little mangled. Why not? I reach under my veil and using both hands, push the hard, marble sized fruit beads into my wet mouthpussy. One, two, three, four, five. I gasp and close my eyes, savouring the feeling of the hard spheres inside my oral vagina as I bear down on them with my facial kegels and suck, slowly pulling the serving string free and swallowing the canapé down my cunt. I shiver in pleasure and enjoy the bright sweet tartness of the fruit when it reaches my gizzard. Ohhhh! Fuck! Thank you, I’ll have another. I open my eyes and sigh and then drop the serving string into a planter. Okay, back on task.

I focus on the steady heart beat of my magic thievery ring and it’s definitely faster now that I’m on the second level. Okay, good, one step closer to the objective. I suck my slick labia lips together thoughtfully, is the Memory Crystal upstairs in the Serpents quarters or somewhere on this level in one of the Lieutenant's Suites? I shouldn’t make assumptions, because I’m already strange enough without being an ass too. I reach up with my ring hand and wave, like I’m trying to get someone’s attention maybe. The ring’s tattletale pulse picks up its pace like it’s seen something exciting. Okay, still above. Dragon’s suite it is. A sleek young female Reptilian on the far balcony scowls at me, and I stop waving and try to look bashful with body language. I’d mouth an apology but I’m wearing a veil and also don’t have a mouth. The female shows me her fangs and then turns her back to me, huddling closer with her co-conspirators. Jesus, no more waving. I blush, bad idea. I rub my round belly and take a second to calm down, you’re still okay Halley. You just need to sneak into the inner sanctum of a crimelord. No big deal! Fuck! No, calm. Calm. Okay? Calm. But how the fuck do I get up to the Dragon’s quarters? I think about the Pyramid floor plan that Gan Ceann showed me, and look down over the balcony to orient myself. The front entrance is there, and the throne is over there, so the lift to the third level should be in that corner… and bingo, there’s a door just in the right spot.

I gather myself and try to casually waddle to the Dragon’s door, careful not to crowd the other balcony sapients along the way. I weave past a cyborg Reptilian whose body is mostly prosthetic and a human woman whose head seems to be replaced by a cyberpunk helmet, I beg apology to a gaggle of pompous looking Blue merchants in brightly patterned robes, and I bashfully trundle past the female Reptilian that I’d accidentally waved at, who looks up and hisses at me as I pass. I don’t notice any guards or anyone watching me, but the skin on my back prickles and my heart is beating too fast. I finally arrive near the door, an imposing gold barrier covered with hieroglyphics of snakes that remains stubbornly closed and certainly locked. I guess it’s time to try out my new walking-through-walls ability. I glance around to see if anyone is looking and raise my ring hand… and how does this even work? Do I just walk through the door? Do I have to will it? Open sesame? Abracadabra! I take a deep breath and… shit! Fuck! The door is opening! There is suddenly a tall woman in the doorway, a human woman with a domino mask of midnight scales on her face and a golden scale medallion at her throat. I whirl away and make a beeline for the railing, trying to look casual, like I was going this way all along and not suspiciously casing the doorway. Fuck fuck fuck! I grab the railing tightly and try to relax as I hear the tread of heavy boots and the rattle of snakes. Oh fuck! That’s the Lieutenant from Halley-18’s story! Krait! Fuck! I stare down into the atrium and hold my breath, pray she didn’t notice me. Fuck! This is so bad! The sound of footfalls and rattles pauses for a moment, and oh fuck me I’m going to die! But then resumes and moves smoothly away. I steal a glance and see the back of Krait, her blue scaled shoulders and arms and a thin sinuous lizard tail that hangs out of her tight leather pants. Oh thank Jesus! That was too fucking close! I almost whimper in relief.

Alright Halley, stop dicking around and just do this! I wait for Krait to take the lift down to the atrium, and then check for guards or watchers. I don’t see anyone, so I take a deep fortifying breath and walk purposefully towards the Dragon’s door. I raise my magic ring so it’s leading the way, close my eyes, and try to visualize phasing through the door like a ghost. “Please work…” Suddenly a flash of icy warmth engulfs my leading hand and arm and body. I feel like I’m outside myself, outside the universe, like I’ve become a living frequency that’s harmonizing with the matter around me, but only for the briefest clarion moment. I gasp and open my eyes and I’m standing inside the lift on the other side of the door. I clutch my body and shiver, make sure I’m still real. “Fuck.”

But holy shit! It actually worked and I’m inside the lift! Which probably isn’t a safe place to hang around. “Up?” And I’m aloft, firmly raised by another invisible platform of force, and carried up to the third level. Expecting it this time, I step easily onto a landing. The magic ring on my hand pulses faster, excited now, like a hunting dog on a leash. I must be close. I’m in a kind of vestibule, a hallway lined with decorative vases painted with brilliant scales, that is fortunately unoccupied. The corridor only goes in one direction so I start to creep down the hallway, suddenly feeling incredibly pregnant and awkward and huge. My heart is hammering and I can taste the tang of adrenaline in the back of my vagina-throat. I waddle so carefully but one of my Naiadine flip-flops slaps the floor. I freeze! Stand still and listen. Sweat trickles down my back. I don’t hear anything, so I awkwardly slip the sandals off my feet and blush. Real secret agent right here. I start to move again, quieter, but more quickly, eager to get out of this hallway. I reach a junction where the corridor meets a second hallway and stop. I carefully peer around the corner and see the new hallway is thankfully empty too. Which way do I go? But fuck! I hear a noise up ahead! Something moving! Sapients speaking! I feel a surge of panic and dive down the new hallway, press my back to the wall, stand perfectly still! Except fuck, this is stupid! I’m a pregnant woman in a swimsuit hiding like a fucking cartoon! My round belly is bulging halfway across the corridor! What the fuck am I doing!? My heart is racing and I could puke and I can feel a classic Halley-style panic attack brewing! Not now! Ugh, fuck, keep it together! I suck in a deep breath and listen: the muffled noise doesn’t stop but doesn’t seem to be coming any closer either. Shaking, I peel myself off the wall and take a peek, and I’m still alone in the hallways. Which, hallelujah! But also it’s only a matter of time before that changes. I am way too exposed here, I need to get out of the corridors. I do a sweep with my magic ring and it pulses faster in the direction of the new hallway, so I sneak in that direction, holding the ring aloft. With every step the ring gets faster, hammering my finger with a rhythm as rapid as my terrified heart. I have to be close! This hallway is lined with sealed doors, polished gold and decorated with snaky symbols, and the ring vibrates faster, pulling me past door after door, until suddenly it physically jerks my hand to the left, aiming me straight at another sealed door, this one inlaid with wooden carvings of serpents. I check the hallway, raise my ring, and walk through the door. I experience another moment of cosmic dissolution, an infinite instant of both being and not being. Halley Uncertainty. And then immediately…

….I’m standing in a room being stared at by a dozen sapients! Fuck!

“Holy shit! Did you just walk *through* that door?!” Says a perfectly familiar voice.

“What? I want to see!” Complains another. “I hate being pointed this way…”

I freeze and hyperventilate, look around the room frantically. Oh my fucking god! There are so many people here! Except… What the fuck? Why are they all so still? So quiet? Something isn’t right….

“Sorry Miss, are you supposed to be here?” Asks the first voice and I look at her and it’s me, it’s another Halley. But she’s connected to a chair? Her mirror familiar face smiles at me with curiosity and her beautifully styled dark hair cascades in loose curls over her bare shoulders, her creamy too-wide shoulders that extend and flare up to become the top of a wingback armchair! An armchair covered in soft pale skin sporting the odd mole and freckle and downy hair. A living armchair made out of Halley! Fuck! “Jesus Christ…”

“Chair, who is it?” The other voice asks.

“I’m not sure…” Halley-Chair leans her head forward and squints and I continue to stare. Her round armless shoulders form the cup of a backrest which contains six wide, slightly flattened breasts with pert nipples, like cushions with decorative buttons, as if her torso had been sculpted for comfort. The seat of the chair is round and soft, constructed from Halley’s lower back and expanded ass cheeks, posed as if kneeling away from me doggy-style. Her elongated asscrack faces forward and her bare pussy is obscenely exposed on the front of the chair, as if begging to be filled. The front panel of the seat is made of her fused truncated thighs cut off at the knee. I realize that Halley’s waist must be horribly twisted, her back broken to exploit her tits and ass simultaneously. Halley’s flesh upholstery is cradled or maybe built into a heavy frame of beautiful dark wood that makes up the simple armrests and legs of the otherwise living chair. The chair that is Halley. An immobilized furniture Halley kept here in the private apartments of the Serpent like property. “This is fucking insane!!”

“Halley?” Asks the other voice. “Is it you? It’s me Zeph!” I look down at the other speaker and it’s a woman Shaped into a matching footstool. The woman-turned-stool is positioned as if she were on her hands and knees, except her biceps and thighs transition into a stout wooden frame that holds her in place. The woman’s long naked back is a footrest of silky, inky black skin conveniently placed for the tootsies of Halley-Chair’s occupant. Zeph is facing away from me, so that her shapely ass and pussy are aimed right at me and I can only see the electric blue up-do braids on the back of her head. I circle Zeph to see her face and notice she has six large tits hanging from her torso, each pierced and hung with an electric blue tassel that nearly brushes the floor. When I waddle into view Zeph grins up at me with startlingly white teeth and bright blue eyes that faintly glow. It dawns on me that I’ve heard of Zeph before, Zephryne, the vanished lover of Sister Teuthida. Zeph chews a plump black lip and frowns, “You’ve just got to be a Halley, I’d know that voice anywhere.”

“You would, wouldn’t you?” I sigh and pull the veil off my head. “Guilty as charged.”

Halley-Chair gasps and Zeph’s eyes go wide in shock. “Your face,” Halley-Chair says, “and you’re pregnant!”

“Long story,” I blush and stroke my bulging belly, “and don’t worry I’m not the mother.”

Halley-Chair blinks her eyes in confusion and Zeph looks a little disappointed, “You’re not my Halley are you?” She looks up at Halley-Chair apologetically, “My *old* Halley.”

I shake my head, “No, I’m Halley-24. I have met your Halley though…” and hated everything about the experience.

Zeph brightens, “Oh moons! Is she well?”

“She’s…” an asshole-faced member of a perverted cult dedicated to an imprisoned cosmic horror… “found her place and a new family.”

Zeph twinkles, “That’s wonderful.”

“She, um, thinks you’re dead?”

Zeph frowns and shakes her head, “Not dead, just Indentured until I settle my debt to the Syndicate.” She smiles ruefully like we’re both in on a joke, “Thought I’d end up doing my time in a Breakyard, but I found myself diverted to our Mistress’ personal collection.”

I frown at Zephryne the living stool and Halley the living chair and then take in the rest of the room. There is a woman-turned-reading-lamp standing near Halley-Chair, balanced en pointe on one artfully elongated leg, her other leg tucked up like a ballet dancer. Her pink lampshade looks like a little skirt, or maybe a dress since her upper body has been squeezed down to a head and neck that grow straight from her hips. The lamp-girl has turquoise lizard scale highlights on her cheeks and thighs and a crest of pink feathers sprouting from her head like a showgirl. She stares at me mutely with slit reptilian eyes. Past the lamp-girl is a beautiful wooden bookshelf and an ornate fireplace with another woman-turned-light-fixture placed on the mantel. This woman’s face is young and pretty, and she has short chestnut hair styled in a tight bun. She’s wearing a silvery art deco tiara that sprouts six long candelbra tines, currently unlit. Her head seems disembodied, or at least sprouting directly from the fireplace mantel itself with her body hidden away inside the wall. On either side of her placidly smiling head are two perfectly manicured hands growing out of the wall, each clutching an unlit Statue of Liberty torch. Past the candelabra-girl, the opposite wall is exquisitely wood paneled and hung with a half dozen living taxidermy-style human heads each sprouting some sort of antlers or horns, like living hunting trophies mounted to the wall. Wide eyes stare at me, but mouths remain firmly closed. “What the fuck is this place?”

“We’re in our Mistress’ Private Study,” Halley-Chair says. “I’m Halley-20, and you know Zephryne.” She nods her head at the lamp-girl, “Lamp is a former Lieutenant of our Mistress who unwisely tried to assassinate her.” Halley points her nose at the pretty head on the fireplace mantel, “Candelabra is the daughter of a Port Official who got into some trouble with the Syndicate and so she’s here as a kind of guest…” The face on the mantel blushes and glances away.

“She means hostage,” Zeph winks. “Have to keep the Port folks compliant, right?”


“Want to see something cool?” Zeph asks and before I can answer, “Lights on!”

I nearly jump out of my swimsuit as the room suddenly flares brighter! I blink my eyes at the sudden light and see that Candelabra now has holographic flames dancing from her crown and torches. Her eyes are wide open and her nostrils are flared and her mouth stretches open into a huge O of pleasure. I see that Lamp is glowing now too, with bright light streaming out from under her lampshade-dress, highlighting her shapely legs. Lamp’s face is tilted back and her eyes are squeezed shut and she’s silently panting. “Why do they look so…”

“Aroused? Because they only light up if they’re turned on!”

Halley-Chair blushes, “They have remote sex toys embedded in their pussies that help get them all revved up and glowing…”

Candelabra’s bites her lip and her head shudders as she orgasms, her lights momentarily flashing. “This whole thing seems…” sadistic and super kinky. “Kind of cruel.”

“It is,” Halley-Chair shakes her head, “but it’s kind of an old Reptilian tradition. Powerful Matrons Shape some of their human slaves into living furniture as a kind of flex. Like, they’re so wealthy and powerful that they can waste slaves as inert objects.”

“They say that every piece of furniture in the Reptilian Empress’ apartment was a human slave,” Zeph adds.

“Our Mistress keeps us here to show off to her peers.”

“And threaten her subordinates.” Zeph says, giving a playful nod at Lamp who is silently screaming in ecstasy.

“Okay…” Jesus Fucking Christ! I have to get out of here! But… “Halley, why are you here?”

Halley-Chair blushes a little and licks her lips, “Take a seat and I’ll tell you my story.”

I look around the room and focus on the taxidermy heads mournfully watching me. There is the head of a dainty woman with her chestnut hair elaborately braided with green and gold ribbon and deer antlers growing from her scalp. On her right is the head of a strong-chinned woman with undercut black hair and the big pointed prongs of longhorn cattle. She has a wide gauge nose-ring and a cowbell hung from her neck. Near her is the head of an angular woman with dark curly hair and big earrings and a pair of tall twisted horns, as if from a Kudu. Below her is the mounted head of a small woman with backswept horns, ridged and kinked, like an impala or springbok. She has short cropped silver hair and black tattoos around her eyes and nose to make her face look narrower. Around the corner is the head of a pale woman covered in dark freckles with a tangled mane of red hair and big curled rams horns. Finally, hung in a place of prominence is the mounted head of a stunningly beautiful woman with high cheekbones, red painted lips, artfully sculpted brunette hair, soulful smokey eyes, and a pair of truly enormous moose antlers. Run! She mouths silently, staring eyes wild. A shiver passes down my spine. Fuck! I need to get out of her! “I’d love to stay and chat, but I’m kind of in a hurry…”

“Oh please sit!” Halley-Chair pouts, “I’m very comfortable!”

“I’m sure…” Okay, focus on the mission Halley! You have to find the damn Memory Crystal and get the fuck out here before Halley-Chair gets herself a matching loveseat. I pucker my pussy-mouth and focus on my magic ring of thievery which is convulsing on my finger like a terrified animal. I have to be so close to the Crystal! I force myself to ignore the living furniture and scan the rest of the room. All I see is a rug, some plain wooden tables, and the books on the shelf. No black crystal cubes and nothing that looks like a secret treasure trove of blackmail. The Memory Crystal must be hidden, fuck! I close my eyes and stretch out my magic ring, turn a slow circle, try to get a read on where to look. Except, fuck I must be too close! The ring is vibrating too quickly! I can’t tell the difference in direction! This isn’t going to work! “Fuck!”

“What are you doing?” Zeph asks, and it occurs to me that maybe the furniture can help me.

“Okay, so, I’m really not supposed to be here.”


I blush and adjust the shoulder strap of my bathing suit, “Yeah, right. I’m here looking for something, a Memory Crystal: it’s kind of a black cube about this big.” I hold my hands out. “I can tell it’s super close, but I need help finding it. I’m not going to steal it or anything, I just need to touch it and copy some information from it. Do you know where it is?”

“I don’t know if we should help you,” Zeph says quietly and Halley-Chair nods. “I think we would get in trouble…”

I nod too, but look imploringly at Halley-Chair, “Halley, it’s important. The Memory Crystal is the flight recorder from the spaceship that abducted us from Earth. It’s supposed to contain information on who ordered Halley-Prime’s abduction and why we were kidnapped.” Halley-Chair frowns in thought. “Don’t you want to know why we’re here? Why we exist? Why you’re a chair and I’m standing here pregnant and wearing a bathing suit with a cunt on my face?”

Halley-Chair looks uncertain, “I do but… you need to make it worth it for me.”

“Sure? Anything.”

“Sit on me, just long enough to hear my story.”

“Use me too!” Zeph squeaks up at me.

“Yeah! Sit on me and use Footrest and I promise to tell you where the Memory Crystal is hidden.”

Fuck, I don’t have time for this. “Okay, but only the short version. I’m really in a hurry.”

“Sure! Sure! Just sit!”

I begrudgingly waddle over to Halley-Chair and Zeph-Stool, and carefully sidle between them. I can feel the heat of their bare immobilized bodies on my legs and this is so weird, but it’s not like I really have any other options. I gently lower myself into Halley’s seat, perching lightly on the edge with my legs spread a bit by my baby bump, and try to ignore that it’s her naked back and ass I’m resting on. “Yesss,” Halley hisses from the top of the chair, “Now lean back and put your feet up….” My skin crawls, but I do as she asks, sliding myself further into her seat, feeling her warm plush flesh cushion me pertly, until my back is almost touching her backrest. “Aaalllllll the way b-back,” Halley gasps above me and I slowly lean back until I’m resting against her modified torso. I feel Halley-chair gasp and breath deeply, the soft flesh of her six tits deform against me like pillows, her nipples becoming hard enough to poke me through the thin fabric of my swimsuit. “Yessssssss….” Halley moans.

“Me! Put your feet on me!” Zeph begs urgently, and Halley-Chair whines “Yes use Zeph t-t-tooo!” I put my bare feet up on Zeph-Stool’s naked back and feel her whole body quiver. “Ohhhhh…” Zeph says with her eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. I grasp the hard wooden armrests tightly and try to ignore just how warm Halley-Chair is, how weirdly intimate and comfortable her embrace is. “Why are you a chair,” I say to move this along.

“Mmmm…” Halley-Chair purrs, “I’m Halley-20, so I ahhh-ha-ppeared and fu-freaked out at Clementine, Oh!” I feel her weird chair body writhe in pleasure. “Then I, ohhh, I lived with Hank until I, oh god, ffffucked Freya-ahhhHHHH!!” Halley-Chair twitches and I can suddenly smell her cunt. Did she just come? Fuck! “I kinda ran away then,” Halley-Chair pants breathlessly, “and tried to, oh, mmmake my own way.” Zeph gasps and her body bucks under my feet as much as her wooden frame allows. “But everything was sooooh scary here! I juh-just waaaAhhhnted to, mmmm, g-go home!”

“To Earth?” I ask trying to ignore Halley as she makes a deep groaning sound and flexes through another orgasm.

“Yes!” Halley-Chair jubilantly moans. “Yes!”

“And how would you plan to do that?”

“By paying for it,” Halley-Chair whines. “Someone paid to ha-haaave us tay-ken from Earth.” She gasps and Zeph bites her lip and squirms. “I just needed to-ooooh pay someone to tay-ake me back.”

“That must cost a fortune.” Why are Halley and Zeph going full orgasm-mode here? Fuck they are making so much noise!

“A gigantic fortune!” Zeph almost screams as she comes again.

“Which is what gah-got me in tah-trouble…” Halley-Chair slurs through chattering teeth.

“You cut a deal with the Syndicate somehow?”

“Worse!” Halley-Chair whines, her backrest cheat heaving, “I took up gah-gambling…”


“Casinos….” Halley-Chair gasps before pausing to groan and shudder. “I went to casinos… and had a run of go-oood luck… built up a bah-bank big enough to… ahhh… get myself into trouble…”

“And how does that land you here?”

Halley-Chair whimpers and pants, so Zeph chimes in, “She got herself into a private game… lied about how much she could stake… and got in way over her head…” Zeph groans and twists under my feet, “So she took an indenture contract… to pay it off…”

“And you’re fulfilling that contract as a chair?”

“YESSSSSS!!!” Halley-Chair screams, writhing hard enough to make the chair scoot a little.

I immediately stand up and squirm away from the furniture-girls. What the fuck was that about!? “Why are you both so fucking horny!?”

“We love… to be used…” Halley-Chair gasps, her face flush and eyes dreamy.

“When they… Shaped us,” Zeph pants, body drooping on its frame, “They made being sat on feel pleasurable… sooo pleasurable...” She shivers.

“Fuck. How?”

“The Serpents Shaper… she’s not as powerful as Clem… but better trained, an expert…” Halley-Chair reclines her backrest and tips her head back. “Anatomy… nerve endings… neurotransmitters…”

“And we got Psychic conditioning…” Zeph mumbles, “Hours of programming to make us docile… make us happier… make us crave this… make us need this…”

I absolutely need to get the fuck out of here! “Okay, I listened to your story. Where is the Memory Crystal? You need to tell me.”

Halley-Chair lifts her backrest up slowly, bites her lip, stares at me from the wide shoulders of her immobile armchair body. “Okay,” she says finally, “the bookshelf is a secret door to a hidden room. What you’re looking for must be there.” She shakes her head, “The door is locked though.”

“Leave that to me,” I say as I waddle over to the bookshelf and point at it. Halley-Chair nods so I raise my ring of thievery at the bookshelf, “Abracadabra!” I walk at the door and will myself to pass through, a magic trick for my furniture audience. My hand erupts in frigid fire and I become liminal and abstracted, instantaneously infinity, until I emerge inside a cozy dim little room. It’s not much larger than a big closet with a sharply sloping roof that must be the angled Pyramid wall. The floor is covered in big bright cushions, piled like a pillowed harem nest, and the air is uncomfortably dry and warm from a pair of powerful heat lamps. There is a wide desk-like surface in front of a bare wall, probably a deactivated holographic workstation, and simple metal shelves on either side. I look the shelves over and find a strange collection of artifacts. There are small lock boxes and stacked hardcopy documents and strange alien contraptions that I can’t identify. There are enough Keybands to open a store, luxury models and cheapo bands and ruggedized tactical straps, stuffed into boxes or loose. There are weapons. Firearms and sci-fi ray guns and things that look like autonomous missiles or combat drones. A glowing Morningstar. Six identical heavy steel knuckles. Dozens of Reptilian ceremonial daggers. There are macabre jars filled with a pickled Blue fingertip, human ears, a strange eyeball, a misshapen fetus, an inhuman heart. There are tiny baggies of hair. Vials containing blood or drugs or healing elixirs. A fossilized extraterrestrial skull. A duffle bag full of preserved rations and a folded up armoured spacesuit. What cannot be, but must be, a vintage snoopy PEZ dispenser in battered condition. Crystals, so many crystals, pink ones and blue ones and jagged ones and clear ones and a glowing perfect sphere and there! The Memory Crystal! A black smoked-glass cube the size of a heart, sitting on a middle shelf, plain as a day. Holy fuck, I actually found it! The plan worked! Fuck yeah! “Come to Halley,” I say, feeling the glow of triumph inside as I waddle over to it. My magic ring is shaking so hard it hurts, vibrating like it’s trying to pulverize my finger bones. “Chill out,” I say as I raise the ring up and gently touch it to the crystal. There is a tiny spark and the ring stops dead, instantly inert, maybe sated by finding it’s prey. Mission accomplished! Yes!!


I freeze, heart suddenly pounding in my chest. What the fuck was that?

I hear a swish and turn and see a bright, widening line of light. Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck! The door! I need to hide! Fuck! My heart starts to race and I feel my chest constrict. I study the room: desk and packed selves and cushions! Nothing to get behind or under. No second exit! Trapped! I’m trapped! I’m hyperventilating and my hands are shaking! The cushions! What if I wiggled in there? Played pillow! Like another piece of living furniture, Halley Shaped down to an upholstered horny torso. Fuck, just like Halley-18 in her Sexbox bordello! Maybe I should go for a weapon? Defend myself? Fight! Except there’s no fucking time! My stomach lurches and my ribs hurt and oh my God I’m going to throw up! I feel dizzy! I’m panicking! This is a panic attack! My eyes are blurry with tears and I’m gasping for breath and I can’t move and I feel light headed! Fuck! Fuck! Help! Fuck!! Help! Jesus! Fuck! Don’t faint! Don’t faint! My vision starts to get dark and woozy….

“A Ssspy,” Hisses a calm voice. “How AmuSSssing.”

…and down I go.

Lights out.



Re: Flotsam

Chapter 27: https://indigocarminefiction.blogspot.c … er-27.html


Chapter 27: The Serpent


What’s happening?


I drag my hand across my face, finger trailing down my cunt. I feel sick. Washed out…

I blink open my eyes and I’m laying facedown on a hard metal table. Where am I? I push myself up and “Oh fuck!!!”

“YeSss.” The Serpent says from across the table.

“You’re me, a Halley!?”

“Of courSsse, haven’t you paid any attention to the Ssstory?” The Serpent’s eyes are golden reptilian slits and her fanged mouth is open in a crooked grin. Her face is my face, but more angular, sharper, and she has a ridge of gunmetal green scales where eyebrows should be. She has a huge mane of indigo iridescent feathers that fan out like a hood and cascade down her back, wild peacock plumage shining beautifully in the harsh light. The Serpent tastes the air with a long black forked tongue and clear membranes swish across her eyes. She waits.

Of fuck! Oh shit! The heist! I’m caught! My heart starts to race and I look frantically around the room. Bare black walls. A steel table. A hard chair. Harsh light from above. The Serpent watching me carefully. I’ve seen enough bad TV to recognize an interrogation room. I’m fucked! I need to get out of here! I’ve been stripped of my veil and sarong and I’m still barefoot, just an unarmed pregnant woman in a mint green swimsuit trapped in a room with an angry Dragon. I’m not restrained or handcuffed, but I’m sure the door is locked and guarded. Fuck! What am I going to do? I fidget nervously with my rings and… my rings! I still have my rings! My magic ring for ghosting and my HAL-E guardian angel ring! Maybe I can escape!

How can I do this? Can I get to the door? It’s all the way across the room from me, around the table and past the Serpent. I’m much stronger now, could I overpower the Serpent? Somehow I doubt it. And even if I make it out through the door, what then? It’s gotta be swarming with guards and it’s not like I’m a speedy getaway with this big belly. I need a better plan. So if not the door, then what? Could I run though a wall? Dive through the floor? The floor! The interrogation rooms are in the first basement! There’s another level below! I could just drop, find some space, call HAL-E! I stroke my magic thievery ring and visualize ghosting through the chair and floor. I smile at The Serpent and do a little finger wave. “Shazam!”

…and nothing happens. I’m still sitting in the room! Fuck!

I grip my ring and focus harder, “Down! Abracadabra!”

Still nothing! Oh fuck, the ring isn’t working! Is it out of power!? Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck! Nothing else left to try: “HAL-E help! I need help!”

Nothing. No reponse!

“HAL-Eeeee! Help me!” Oh fuck!

“Are you finished?”

My heart is racing and tears sting my eyes. “Why isn’t this working?” My electronic voice comes out panicky, warped and strange.

The Serpent shows me her fangs and taps the large amethyst crystal embedded in her chest just above her six bare breasts. “My little Sssouvenir killSss Grey tech.“ She pauses to let that settle in: no escape. “Ssso why don’t we have a little converSssation?”

I take a shuddering, terrified breath. My voice glitches, “What are you going to do to me?”

The Serpent shrugs with all six of her arms, “Ssstill deSssiding.” She slams something down on the table with a bang. The Memory Crystal. “Tell me: why did you want thiSss?”

“I… *static squeal*” I take a deep breath and try again, “I was told it has information about who abducted us from Earth, and that you have it as blackmail…” But that can’t be right, since she’s a Halley too. I shake my head, “You wanted to know for yourself! To find Halley-Prime.”

The Serpent rears up and hisses, “I don’t give a fuck about Halley-Prime.”

I cringe back and whimper! The serpent continues to loom over me with her fangs out. Her body below her hips is a huge snake, as wide as her torso, more than twenty feet long and covered in layered sharp gunmetal scales. The Serpent’s tail is flexed as if she is about to strike me and I can’t help notice the sharp claws on her fingers and how long her fangs are. “Sorry! I’m sorry!”

“AcSssepted.” The Serpent says, relaxing her serpentine body to lower her human torso. “Continue.”

“So it was just for blackmail?” My voice cautiously warbles.

“No. You were cloSsser before.” The Serpent drums the fingers of a hand on a table, a metal prosthetic gauntlet with recessed blades. “The SssapientSss who paid for the abduction were much too clever for there to be evidenSsse on the flight recorder.” She idly flicks the Memory Crystal with a clawed finger. “I wanted Sssomething elSsse.”


“I wanted the method they uSssed to find Halley-Prime.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it: how could they Sssingle out one worthleSss human orphan girl from billionSss? What made her Ssspecial? Detectable from orbit?” The Serpent cocks her head and tastes the air with her tongue. “Sssss?”

That’s… actually a good question. The Sleeping God told me that Halley-Prime was special somehow. Valuable. Could this have something to do with that? “Halley-Prime was unique?”

“YeSssss.” I hear the whispered scrape of The Serpents tail moving and she draws herself a little higher and looks down at me. “The abducterSss were given approximate coordinateSss and a Ssspecific lifeSssign to find. A non-human one.” The Serpent’s glares at me. “Halley-Prime waSss an alien.”


“We are alienSss.”

“Jesus Christ! How? Wh-what are we?”

“I’m not Sssure.” The Serpent starts to slowly rock side to side like a dancing snake. “The lifeSssign is Ssstrange, exotic. Nothing recognized. Nothing common. Halley-Prime waSss phySssically human, indiSsstinguishable, but her eSssence, our eSssence, iSss not. I’ve checked.” The Serpent smiles ruefully, a weirdly Halley expression on her harsh face. “Yet another mySsstery.”

“Let me help you solve it.”

The Serpent hisses in amusement. “Why? It’Sss immaterial.”

“What?” I blink. “What do you mean?”

“I have what I want: proof that I’m not a lowly human.”

What the fuck? “Huh?”

“Do you think the Reptilian Council would allow a Ssslave to run their FlotSssam Sssyndicate? To be their Dragon? PrepoSssterouSss. ImpoSssible.” The Serpent poses with her six arms open and winds the flexible tip of her tail around her upper body. “But an alien OutSssider from an advanced MaSsster Ssspecies? Maybe, if Ssshe is uSsseful snd careful and ruthleSss…”

“So this was all about strengthening your claim?”

“Of courSsse. Sssentimentallity is weakneSss.”

The Serpent regards me with cool reptilian eyes. I shiver, so what now? “If you let me go, I promise not to tell anyone.”

The Serpent grins and cocks her head, “But I want you to tell anyone. Everyone! I want every Sssapient on FlotSssam to know the truth!” Her forked tongue flicks, “The point of thiSss little party waSss to share my newSss, to publicly reveal mySsself! My Dragon debutante ball.”


“I’ll even let you keep your little copy of the Memory CrySsstal to bring back to your headleSss SssiSsster.” She touches her chin with a claw, “Independent verification only helpSss me.”

Hope jumps in my belly. “You’re going to let me go?”


I slump in my seat and feel a surge of giddy relief. Happy tears sting my eyes. “Thank God…”

The Serpent roles her eyes, “You can come in now.” The door to the interrogation room opens and two figures enter. The first is Krait, tall and lean and purposeful, her midnight blue scales brilliant in the bright interrogation room light. She smiles at me with all the warmth of an alligator. The second is a slight human woman with mousey brown hair and a shapeless dress. She regards me with furious bruised eyes from a face with no mouth, just smoothed over skin below her nose. The Dragon’s Shaper. Krait discreetly hands something to The Serpent and walks behind me and the Shaper stands behind The Serpent watching angrily. My hope slips back into worry, “What’s going on? Why are they here?”

“I can’t juSsst allow you to leave,” The Serpent says pleasantly. “You broke into my home, violated my Sssanctum. Ssstole from me.” She shakes her head and places something on the table: an envelop. A red and yellow and white envelope, striped like a poisonous snake. That envelope! The one from Halley’s story! The memetic weapon! Of fuck! Oh Jesus fuck! I feel strong hands suddenly grab my shoulders and hear the hiss of snake rattles. The Serpent snaps open the envelope. “There muSsst be conSssequenSsseSss.”

“No…” My heart is racing and my chest is heaving, “No no no no no…”

“YeSss.” The Serpent shuts her eyes and draws a sheet of paper out of the envelope. I try to look away but scaled hands grab my chin, hold my head straight, and I try to fight but then I see lines on the paper, just a glance, just lines, but lines with a purpose, except what could it be? I stop fighting and lean in to look closer, the lines are part of a pattern, a design. I suck on my labia in concentration, the pattern is deceptively simple, orderly, except not? Not at all, actually. There is depth to it, a repetition, a fractal construction that drills down and down and down. Obscured complexity. I follow the pattern deeper, seeking clarity. I feel something in my mind change a little, a sensation like shifting, but not physical. It’s hard to explain, but not really important. The pattern is here. I can tell it has a secret, something important I’ll learn if I can just concentrate harder. I focus and something about me becomes clearer, sharper. I need to know the answer! I need to hone my mind, to concentrate myself totally to the task. The pattern suddenly changes, or no, I just see it more clearly. The meaning is right there! Except no, it goes deeper. So close! I shift in my seat and ugh, fuck, I lose it! Slip back from epiphany! My stupid body is a distraction! A weakness! I only need my mind for the Pattern, the rest of me is just holding me back! If only I could shed this useless physicality! Become a Halley made of energy and intelligence! Then I could learn The Truth! Then I could become One with the Pattern! I could be Optimized! Idealized! Perfect! …And suddenly the wonderful Pattern is gone! The paper hidden from me! Returned to the envelope! “NOOOOO!!” I scream! “Bring it back!”

I look frantically around the room and everyone is staring at me! But I don’t care! I need to see the Pattern again! I raise my hands to beg and… I scream! My hands! Awful! Disgusting! Hideous! Useless! Revulsion fills me! I feel myself, my whole terrible body! All of it! Arms and legs and ass and torso and head! A riotous chaos of physical sensation! Too much! Too much me! This horrible body held me back! Is holding me back! I need to be smaller! Distilled down to my essence! Crystallized!


I need to be reduced!

“Help me!” I look at The Serpent, but no she can’t save me from myself. The Shaper! The Shaper can help! I hold my hated hands out to her. “Please!!”

“Go ahead.” The Serpent says and The Shaper looks at me with eyes glowing with loathing and pleasure. The mouthless woman shuffles towards me and takes me by the arms. My skin crawls at the unwanted sensation of extremity. “Please…” I whisper.

The Shaper grips my arms and strokes my wrists and I feel a warmth like bathwater appear in my horrid flesh. I shiver and groan and The Shaper scowls. The heat builds and my arms feel heavy and dead, like warm bags instead of limbs. I moan and feel the heat boil in my hands and watch as my fingers lose definition, become floppy, and recede into my hands, leaving my arms with only blunt stumps. My rings fall to the floor with a bright clatter. I gasp in pleasure! Euphoria fills me! I’m one step closer to purity! The fever travels up my arms and I feel my flesh pull into itself. I moan and watch my wretched arms recede inch by glorious inch, my hands gone, my wrists, my forearms, until my arms end smoothly at the elbows. Tears of joy fill my eyes! I feel so much better! But it’s not enough! There is still so much of me! The Shaper triumphantly grabs me by my blunt elbows and pushes! I feel a jolt like electricity and a molten glow as my upper arms are squeezed into my shoulders! The Shaper caresses my shoulders smooth and lifts her hands away revealing perfectly scultped flesh. I choke on my happiness! I’m completely armless! I’m beautiful! Clean! “Thank you…”

I twist my body, enjoying the feeling of lightness, the lack of hanging weight, the shedding of unwanted complexity. I sigh and shift my hips and… no! There is still so much of me! So much more to do! These legs! My shoulders! My body! I look desperately at the Shaper who is panting through her nose and slick with sweat. “More! Please you have to take more!”

The Shaper looks at me hungrily but glances at The Serpent who shakes her head. “No. I want her to carry my newSsss home.”

“What!? No!” I need more! I whimper and try to stand, falter with my swollen belly and wonderful lack of arms. I look at the Shaper who glowers back. “Please! Help me! You have to help me!!”

The Serpent gestures and Krait steps out from behind me with a blindfold perched on her forehead. She picks my rings off the floor and carries them to The Serpent who holds each ring in a left hand and strings them onto a silver chain. She uncoils and slithers over the table, drapes the necklace of rings around my neck and clutches me with her six hands. The Serpent stares into my eyes and kisses me deeply on my mouthpussy, “Tell Clem I Sssend my regardSss.”


To be continued.