(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.”

“Clients?”

“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."

"Well?"

"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?"

"Mysterious."

"...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!"

"What?"

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.

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

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

Flotsam

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.”

“Cute.”

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

“Right.”

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?”

“What?”

“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.”

“Fuck.”

“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.”

“What?”

“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.”

“What!?”

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.”

“Exactly.”

“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.

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

Flotsam
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.

“Hmm?”

“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…”

“Yeah?”

“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!”

“Halley.”

“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.

“Weapons?”

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.”

“Okay.”

“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!”

“Huh?”

“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…”

“WE DO NOT MAKE MISTAKES. WE ARE LAW. YOU STAND ACCUSED OF TRAFFICKING IN STOLEN GOODS, TRAFFICKING IN STOLEN VEHICLES, TRAFFICKING IN FORBIDDEN TECHNOLOGY, WEAPONS VIOLATIONS, RETROFITTING VIOLATIONS, ILLEGAL SALVAGE, PIRACY, TAX EVASION…”

“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!”

“CALCULATING… UPDATED. YOU STAND ACCUSED OF BEING AN ACCESSORY TO TRAFFICKING IN STOLEN GOODS, TRAFFICKING IN STOLEN VEHICLES, TRAFFICKING IN FORBIDDEN TECHNOLOGY…”

“What!? No! This isn’t fair!”

“IT IS THE LAW. VERDICT: YOU ARE SENTENCED TO TEN YEARS OF HARD LABOR.”

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."

"Oh."

"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.”

“What!?”

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.

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

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

Flotsam
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…

“Consulate!”

“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?”

“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.”

“Duh.”

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…”

“What?”

“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!!

*Clunk*

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.

***