Reaching For Divinity

by
Daniel J. Bishop




The first Smoothie I met was in the spaceport at Hr'akarr.  This was in the days when Smoothies were a rare sighting, which now seem long ago.  I remember thinking it looked absurd, wrapped in its clothing, with its face shaved and its arms and hands sporting only the faintest down.  Absurd, yes, but somehow alluring.  Its head sported the full growth of an adult Alu, but it was smooth everywhere else, like a cub's drawing.  It wore clothing, as I said, not because of vacuum, or to regulate temperature, or to defend against harsh weather.  It was as though it found its own fur-nude flesh disquieting.

Perhaps because of that, I was smitten.

"Will you share sex with me?" I asked, first in Marowan, then Farchall.  I knew no Smoothie languages then.  No Alu did.  I wondered if the creature knew any of the languages I could speak.  The Smoothie glanced over my greater breasts, and the two lesser, firmer pair that showed I was in the prime of female reproduction.  Its eyes seemed flatter, simpler than our own.  An illusion brought about by their evolution for seeing in brighter light.  I didn't see immediate comprehension.  I considered just throwing the Smoothie down, tasting its reactions.  Its claws were flat and dull as paper.  It seemed a weak enough thing, and my desire was great.  But surely if the Smoothie was as defenseless as it seemed, its species would never have survived to attain the stars.

Even without language, I could see its interest.  The Smoothie's male organ unsheathed and grew.  I could see the plastic-like cloth move as its penis strained against the restricting fabric.  I leaned in and stroked the tented cloth gently, with the pad of one finger.  The Smoothie startled and pulled back, but its penis quickened.  Sharing, it was large, longer and thicker than any natural Alu could be.  I felt my body respond, flooding with hormones.  My cloaca loosened and grew moist.   I grasped one of its broad, furless hands, encouraging it to stroke the nipples of my lesser breasts.

The Smoothie spoke and stood.  Its language was as flat as its eyes, as its claws.  There was little music in it.  It was not a language made for singing.  This failing almost broke through my body's hormone-drugged state, yet its large penis and stocky-seeming build produced its own melody within my blood.  How a Smoothie would be as a female lover, I couldn't imagine, then.  As a male lover...Ah!

I was suspended as it led me to a private chamber (one I assumed it had rented to isolate itself from others -- Smoothies are not the only species with the peculiar desire to be alone), between a driving need to feel its thick hard flesh within me and a sad revulsion for the flat voice with which it attempted to cajole and woo me.  I brought its fingers to the moist, warm opening between my legs.  There was no danger here.  No Alu would refuse to share with another it desired in the safety of a public walkway.  Yet the Smoothie refused to take what I offered.  Until we were alone.  Where anything might happen.

The creature was, in many ways, horribly alien.  Not like the Smoothies we encounter now, who have learned the beginnings of culture.

The Smoothie removed its upper garment, revealing broad, but cub-like, muscles.  It had very little fur.  I could see the places where the garment had worn away at what hair the Smoothie managed to grow on its upper arms, chest, and shoulders, and I wondered again why it wore them.  The Smoothie had nipples, but they were small and under formed.  I had expected at least lesser breasts.  I wondered if they could milk-feed their young, or if that was something that their world's evolution had taken from them.  Clearly it had been possible, once.

I leaned forward and licked the Smoothie's nipples as it fumbled with its lower garment.  Its nipples responded, weakly.  The Smoothie groaned softly, its voice more musical than the speech I had heard before.  The sound warmed me.  Its legs had more fur than its arms, although again there were areas where the garments had worn even the Smoothie's sparse coat away.  I helped the creature pull of its undergarment, singing appreciatively at the sight of its huge organ, nestled in a patch of truly adult pelt.  Could I fully satisfy a being who could grow such a thing?

There were so many things I wanted to ask the Smoothie.  I leaned down to taste it, savoring the combination of alien size and near-Alu saltiness.  Again, the Smoothie shared a single note of deeper, more musical language.  It was, then, the only language we shared in common.

There was a thrill of engaging in a discouraged, claustrosexual act as the Smoothie thrust into my mouth.  We were enclosed in the alien's rented chamber, at false risk.  The Smoothie was fully male, more male than any Alu I had experienced.  While the alien's penis bled salty, preseminal fluid, my fingers explored the tight area behind it.  It was only slightly moist, while I grew damper with every thrust.  His penis seemed incapable of withdrawing.  I knew that I was stronger than the Smoothie.  My claws were far sharper, should I choose to extend them.  But I could not help feeling that he was dangerous, dominating, flooded with male hormones.

All the while, of course, I controlled the force and depth of his thrusts.  I had to be careful not to cut him with my teeth.  For all of his size and hardness, he was not better protected than a masculine Alu.  Perhaps he did not know that our actions were monitored.  Even now, many Smoothies prefer to believe in the possibility of isolation.

I rolled onto my abdomen, supported by knees and breasts.  The Smoothie paused, confused momentarily by my presented cloaca and sheath, until I reached for his maleness and drew it partially into my damp femaleness.  He moaned appreciative, musically.  The size and hardness of him was daunting, yes, but like drunkenness.  I climaxed almost instantly.  With each short thrust, my cloaca convulsed, growing wetter and more loose.  Each thrust brought more of his hardness within me, past my sampling chambers, almost into my womb.  My song began, I was singing.  My singing would not stop.  I put his hands on my shoulders, where they belonged.  Holding me down.  His thrusts were harder than Alu, and fast, driven by strong adult muscles.  The universe was orgasm.

Then the Smoothie grew even larger and harder.  I convulsed again, screamed with pleasure, and his voice joined mine, long grunts as he convulsed and his semen splashed within me.  He continued to thrust through his orgasm.  My sampling chambers convulsed, capturing some of his salty sweetness.  His length and his ejaculation pushed much of his sperm into my womb, though, where I could not truly sample it until it began to spill out again, several hours later.

The Smoothie collapsed, and while I could certainly otherwise have supported it, I was also spent, and pushed onto the floor by its weight.  It left its penis within me until it began to soften.  I was sorry to feel it slip free from my aching cloaca.  I was sorry to feel that pleasant weight leave me as it rolled away, coming to rest on its back beside me.

It played gently with my greater breasts, then the lesser.  My cloaca was sore, still gently pulsing, and I realized that it would be some time before it would be truly tight.  Perhaps I slept.  When I opened my eyes, I could still see the Smoothie's penis, shrunken between its legs.  Its testes hung there also, exposed in a wrinkled, lightly-furred bag of skin.  I realized that I had felt them, slapping softly against me while I was penetrated.

Eventually, the pulsing ebbed.  The Smoothie's cloaca was still tight, tighter now than my own, from where I had received him.  I was feeling a rush of male hormones now.  My penis began to unsheathe.  Perhaps the Smoothie did not see it.  Or, perhaps, because my penis was so much smaller than its own, it did not recognize my organ for what it was.  I rubbed the opening of its cloaca gently with one finger pad, and the Smoothie rolled away.  Encouraged by the half-presentation, I leaned down and moistened her with my tongue.

She moaned softly, but tried to roll onto her back, her unretracted penis half-hard again.  She tried to pull me up, to bring my mouth to her maleness.  I would like to claim that I thought, then, that she meant only to deny me the joys of her cloaca.  That her claustro desires were brought about by a shameful reluctance to fully share.  But I think, even then, that I understood that she meant to usurp the masculine role.

There are few worlds, and fewer that produce sentient beings, where the evolutionary advantages of sexual dimorphism are not fully explored.  We now know that the Smoothies are physically locked into a one gender-mode for their entire lives.  Even so, it is a tribute to Dask-Thollin's theory of evolution to note that, like some of the lower life forms of our own world, Smoothie psychology explores a far greater range of sexual expression, reaching toward the divine evolutionary goal of true sharing.  Some Smoothies express desire to both of their genders, within the limitations of their physiology.  Some even have themselves surgically altered in crude attempts to reach true dimorphism.

I did not know that then.  Male hormones are good for anger, and strength.  I grew angry.

I turned the Smoothie onto her stomach, forcing her to present.  She sent me mixed signals, tightening her cloaca while her penis grew flaccid again and began to withdraw.  I did not know then that she could not sheath it.  Holding her down, I moistened her cloaca with my tongue and lips.  She protested with flat language and music.  My penis felt as hard as hers had been as I brushed it against her opening.

I pushed into her.  She was as tight as she had been large.  She struggled, but I held her down, and her tightness and motion drew whistles of pleasure from deep within my chest.  Her cloaca was horribly unclean, but I found that it didn't matter, as it would have had she been Alu.  There was no chance of sharing reproduction here.  We shared only sex.  Unbidden, my nails extended and drew bright spots of blood from her shoulders.  I leaned forward and brushed all six nipples against her back.  They drew rippled patterns of milk that slid along her ribs, ran down her spine, and pooled in the hollow above her buttocks.

I did not immediately notice that the Smoothie's penis had grown large again, but I felt with pleasure as she pushed back into me.  Whatever angers, or fears, had passed over either of us were gone, lost in the sharing.  We were both groaning loudly.  The Smoothie pushed one hand below her abdomen.  I felt her fingers tickle the opening to my sheath, paper-flat nails teasing, slightly scratching.

It was after I could no longer feel her fingers touching me that I realized how large the Smoothie had become.  It was reaching for the divine, and, somehow, the divine was singing back through its body.  He was stroking his penis rapidly even as she pushed her cloaca strongly back onto my thrusting penis.

I transcended as I climaxed, as we climaxed together.  I could feel her cloaca convulsing with orgasm, even as he released his semen onto the floor.  I could smell its powerful ocean scent, and if my tongue could extend that far, I'd have sampled it from the floor, and my cloaca loosened wetly, and I could feel the flesh-memory of him within me as I came within her as I came within me as I transcended the boundaries of even dimorphic biology and screamed screamed screamed pleasure and grace into the great unfettered womb of God.

When I recovered, the Smoothie was cradling me and stroking my breasts and fur.  It kept repeating the same musical words, over and over again.  I lay there in pleasure for a long time before I realized that it was speaking in Farchall.  Its accent was that of a cub who has not yet learned words, but understands the potency of a given phrase.  It was a phrase that I would not refuse, as I became female once more.

That was long ago.  Alu, and others, have come and gone.  I have shared many times with Smoothies since, but never since that first encounter have I come so close to...I do not know what I was close to.  But I do know that it is important.  To be both male and female and nothing at the same time.  It is as though I can scent a sharing beyond dimorphism, yet I cannot sample it.  A greater sharing on a higher plane of evolution.  And, although it may be improper for me to feel it, I can understand the Smoothies who, with crude surgeries, try to approximate what we have been given by our genes.  Since Hr'akarr, I, too, have felt an aching need that cannot be touched with finger pads, nor torn away by the sharpest claws.

That is why I must journey to Earth.  I have nothing else to declare.
 

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