by submission | Apr 27, 2008 | Story
Author : Michael Varian Daly
The musky odor hit Tanith the moment she stepped through the portal; man smell. It always got her queasy and excited, made her yoni tingle and moisten.
She marched with purpose down the wide debris strewn avenues, lined with derelict warehouses converted into rat warrens of cubicles called ‘apartment’ or ‘club’ depending upon their usage, the huge facades covered with brightly colored artwork, its techniques crude to sublime, and often violent and sexual in nature.
This was Semefour, a sector of the abandoned dirtside space facility of Bessport and original ghetto of The Men.
The Men were not actual males. True Men were extinct, outlawed for centuries, their heritage diffused and divided into the myriad Mandroids; Y-chromosome cyborgs, a vast genetically engineered servitor class that ranged from the ubiquitous simple minded AgroDroids, patiently tilling fields on a thousand worlds, through the slim graceful Harlequins, serving the personal needs of Sisters everywhere, to the brilliant star spanning Sliders, The Sisterhood’s living spaceships who merged with their pilots, Mind, Body and Soul.
No, The Men were really Sisters. They wore Bitch Rods all the time – detachable bioform phallus’s…big, thick ones, too. They took hormones to shrink breasts and grow hair, lots of hair. They lived The Man’s Way, a throwback cult of ‘masculinity’. They steeped themselves in intoxicants, wrote nihilistic poetry, had bare knuckle brawls, and sodomized each other. They were The Men.
For most, it was a phase. They would Live The Life for a while, then put their Bitch Rod back in its Fake Box and go live as a Solitary in the woods or the hills or the desert on some world for a Solannum or two until their minds and bodies settled.
But some Lived The Life as their Life with total commitment. Like Frank, who had been one of The Men for well over a century now. That is who Tanith had come to see.
Tanith was a Jane, a Sister who sought out The Men for pleasure. She couldn’t call Frank a ‘lover’. Sex among The Men was ritualized consensual rape.
She turned, went into a shadowed door, up narrow stairs. Frank was waiting for her, ‘his’ wiry black hair, beard, chest, legs, making her body vibrate with an atavistic thrill. Frank took her straight away, brutally, with a cruel smile that no Harlequin pleasure server would ever match.
Time passed too quickly.
They smoked and drank, coupled with fury and languor. Frank sang her songs. Two friends came over, got drunk, had a fist fight, then all three of them ‘raped’ her for hours.
On the afternoon of the third day, Tanith stumbled down the stairs, bruised, sore, and wholly sated. On her way out the door, Frank had smacked her on the ass. “Say hello to your husband,†‘he’ laughed.
“My husband,†she thought smiling. Her darling Maddox, thirty six thousand tons of Slider floating serenely in orbit. She knew he would relish every single detail.
by submission | Apr 25, 2008 | Story
Author : Sharoda
Jerry and I stood in the locked room looking through a large window at the woman in the hospital bed. The door next to the window led into the room, it had a green light over it showing it was unlocked.
“I’m not going in there”, Jerry said. “Becka’s gone! That’s not her in there; I buried her 6 months ago”.
“I know. I was with you at the hospital after the accident†I said.
“Screw this Ken†he was shaking; seeing the clone with Becka’s face lying on the bed in the lab’s hospital ward was pushing him to the edge.
The accident had been horrible. Jerry still had terrible scars but with Becka gone he didn’t care.
“Call security so they can let me the hell out of here†he was starting to get really angry. Getting into or out of this part of the lab complex was difficult and required a lot of security access that Jerry no longer had. He hadn’t been able to work in 6 months but I had to bring him in today because we were going to wake her. Jerry started pacing back and forth in front of the window staring at the Becka clone.
She was cutting edge science. She was literally a perfect physical copy of Becka and her mind was everything we could salvage before she’d died.
“Please Jerryâ€, I begged, “A lot of people, a lot of your friends, went to a lot of trouble, for you. Please at least wait until she wakes upâ€.
He stopped pacing and turned to look at me. His face was red and he was shaking. He turned back to the window and started pacing again.
I looked at the security camera in the corner and shrugged. We waited, no one came. “I’ll go find out what’s keeping security†I said and badged myself through the opposite door.
One more door and I was in the observation room. Johansen stood there with his expensive suit and slick hair staring at the monitors and speaking softly to the techs. I’d made a deal with this particular Devil to make this happen for my best friend.
“How come…†I started to say.
“It’s waking up†Johansen said, cutting me off. Everyone looked at the monitors.
The Becka clone opened her eyes and slowly looked around. She couldn’t see through the large window, it was tinted glass on her side.
Jerry stopped pacing.
She sat up.
Jerry leaned close to the glass. There was still tension in his face.
She put her face in her hands and rubbed her eyes the way she always did when the lights were too bright.
Jerry stood with his hands on the glass. His head slowly shook back and forth but the tension was gone.
Becka stretched her neck and flicked back her hair. I’d seen her do it a thousand times.
Jerry’s hands fell slowly to his side, his mouth was open. He moved to the door and turned the knob.
“Jerry?â€, she said, head still in her hands.
“Becka?†he said softly.
“Oh honey, I had the worst dream†she said and raised her head. He stopped at the bed and sat down; she started to cry when she saw his sad scarred face. She pulled him to her breast and wrapped her arms around him and held him while he cried.
“We’re going make a fortuneâ€, Johansen said.
“Yaâ€, I said wiping my cheek. “probablyâ€.
by submission | Apr 20, 2008 | Story
Author : Grady Hendrix
Fear gripped his guts! Fear turned his spine to water! Fear packed his bowels with ice and made his fingers tremble! That’s what Jim thought he should be feeling, but instead his mind was a blank white eternity with a billboard in the middle and written on the billboard in mile high letters:
I’m scared.
I’m scared.
I’m scared.
“You scared?” the grizzled grunt next to him asked.
Jim nodded weakly.
“Good man. First thing, don’t hold yer assault cannon like that. S’not a crotch warmer. Second, just think about the mission. Clears yer head.”
“Is it true that when the landing ramp drops the first 20 soldiers get their heads blown off?”
A mechanical voice sang out.
“Attention: negotiated settlement talks have closed inconclusively. Prepare for full military deployment.”
“That’ll be us, then,” the grizzled grunt grinned.
Jim threw up in his mouth and let it run down his chin. Didn’t matter. He’d be dead soon, anyways.
“There, there, son,” the grunt said. “Focus on the mission. We’re here because we have to be. Earth needs resources she don’t have, so we go to our friends and ask them to share, and when they don’t share we don’t got a choice. We have to take.”
“But why?”
“Take or die, son. It’s the way of the universe. Survival of the fittest.”
“Pardon me,” a grunt on the other side of Jim said. “I think applying social Darwinism to our situation is entirely uncalled for.”
“What? Yew advocating some kind of Ricardian system of comparative advantage?”
“I’m merely suggesting that rather than fulfilling a pre-existing survival instinct, our species is demonstrating choice.”
“Naw, naw, naw. You’re saying that we’ve become predators. S’what I’m saying too.”
“No, I’m suggesting we’re practicing a style of economic expansionism rather than pure species survival.”
“Yeah, but ultimately it doesn’t matter does it? As the great Mr. D said, “˜It’s the most adaptable to change that survives.’ They got it, we need it, they won’t give it, so we take it. Economics is personal.”
“Touche’. A bit reductionist but I yield to your aggressive reasoning.”
“Aw, think nothing of it. Incidentally, yer point of view is interestin’ but simply not appropriate to the field of battle.”
Jim’s head was spinning. The drop ship hit the dirt.
“Why thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
The warning klaxon went off and the grunt grabbed Jim by the combat armor.
“Come on, kid. Up and at “˜em.”
The landing ramp warning light started flashing. Outside, the sound of multiple missile impacts.
“Think of the mission,” the grunt shouted.
The landing ramp crashed down, the sound of a planet at war rushed in, and they came out shooting in the middle of the Ablixian town square, burning office towers falling before their eyes.
Jim heard them give the Marine warcry and he screamed it too as he blasted away in all directions and prayed that his head wouldn’t get blown off. It was a warcry, a mission statement, it was everything the Earth needed now that it had exhausted its own supply.
“Give us your celebrities!” he screamed.
by submission | Apr 19, 2008 | Story
Author : Matthew Reshonsky
Ariel groaned as John held her tighter on the motel bed. For a moment he was lost in the experience of her perfect-ness. The way that her body always seemed to fit the contours of his own with the perfect blend of softness to touch and hold. Over the last three weeks he had even grown to love the smell of ozone that always clung about her.
She breathed in deeply and he relaxed his hold. “So John, how was work today.â€
“Eh, nothing much happened. All I could really think about was getting back here to you.â€
“You’re the sweet but I know something had to have happened you’re so tense.â€
This gave John pause, when he was with Ariel he always forgot about the world. Except today he had reason to be troubled. She must have sensed it, that was one of the things he loved about her the way she was always able to understand him.
“I caught the news feed; some Jack off politician is going to ban full force field holography making your job illegal.â€
“They’re always trying to do that, don’t let it bother you.â€
“Well the pundits say it’s going to pass this time, a broad ban on everything except medical use.â€
“So we don’t have much time left, do we?â€
“A week maybe two.â€
She pushed her face into his chest a squeezed him so tightly that he was having trouble drawing breath and then she released.
He gently nudged her head back so he could look into her green eyes.
“I have something I want to tell you. I went and-“, he was abruptly cut off when she vanished. The all too familiar feeling of emptiness returned to the center of his chest that he was only able to push away when she was in his arms.
“Shit.†He reached over to the bed stand and counted the dollar coins left in the roll, only ten left.
He quickly slid them into their slot on the headboard when she reappeared.
“Anyway, as I was saying I went and saw an agent about putting a lien on one of my kidneys to see if was enough to buy a home unit and your program from the motel before the ban goes into effect. In order to get enough I’ll have to hawk my heart and one of my lungs too.â€
“You can’t do that. What if you can’t pay them back on time?â€
“I should be able to do it, I won’t be spending money here so that alone should be enough to make it on time, worst case scenario I’ll live on ramen for awhile.â€
“Then you do love me.â€
“What can I say, I have a thing for chicks with pink hair.â€
“How much do you have left for tonight?â€
“20 minutes.â€
“So just enough for a happy ending.â€
“As happy as it gets anyway.â€
by submission | Apr 17, 2008 | Story
Author : Jacinta A. Meyers
“Oh!” Justice jumped, spilling the two hundred year-old cabernet all over his ratty clothes. “Y’know what we got here, fellas?”
The other two looked at him. He was grinning like a fool, strings of diamonds draped over his neck and clothes dark with the wine.
“We done confiscated the king’s music box!”
“Music box?” Burgess arched a brow.
“Saw it on the Web-waves.” Reaching a grubby hand out, Justice touched the glass. “It’s old. Worth millions, I reckon.”
Citizen ran a hand over his chin. The rings on his fingers glistened. “Worth more than the crown jewels themselves?”
“Not sure, but it’s worth lots. And hell, anything’ll help the rev’lution.” Justice nudged Burgess with a knowing elbow. “Eh?”
But Burgess was staring into the dome. There was a boy inside, sitting on a small patch of marble. A violin lay beside him. The child’s eyes held such sadness, it hurt to look at him. “How old you say?” He asked absently.
“Well, from the twenty-third cent’ry at least.” Justice was nodding. “They made ‘im look older though. Costume and all,” he pointed to the elaborate waistcoat, the lace at the boy’s neck and sleeves.
Citizen leaned forward eagerly, a hungry expression on his face. “Don’t suppose we could take a listen…”
“Don’t see why not.” Justice shrugged. He stepped forward and gave the gilded base a kick. “Come on now, play you bloody thing.”
The boy got slowly to his feet. He tucked the violin beneath his chin and raised its bow in his hand. He began to play.
At first they heard nothing. Then, gradually, they began to notice a low rumbling. The air filled with a sound, the most delicate thing imaginable. The men stood staring in awe, listening.
“How’s it work?” Citizen whispered.
“He’s makin’ the glass vibrate from inside…” Justice whispered back. “That’s what we’re hearin’. Like a bell or somethin’.”
“It’s beautiful.”
But Burgess was weeping, big fat tears rolling silently down his cheeks. He couldn’t bear it. Taking up the bar they’d used to pry the box’s case open, he swung it at the dome.
There was a soul-shattering clatter. Shards of glass shot everywhere. Justice and Citizen stood there, mouths agape. “What’d you do?!”
The boy stared too, then dropped to the ground. Burgess went to him, held him up, watched as he began to age rapidly before their eyes. The skin of his face crinkled like old paper. But he was smiling, the violin still clasped in his shriveled hand. “Merci,” he whispered. “Merci.”
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