Copyright© 2004 - Shakes Peer2B
This is a story about a sexual FANTASY written for consenting adults. If you're not both of those, don't read it. Characters in a FANTASY don't get sick or die unless I want them to. In real life, people who don't use condoms and other safe-sex techniques do get sick and die. You don't live in a FANTASY so be safe. The fictional characters in my stories are trained and experienced in acts of FANTASY - don't try to do what they do - someone could get hurt.
If you think you know somebody who resembles any of the characters here, congratulations, but you're wrong - any similarity between the characters in this story and any real person is purely coincidental, since all of these characters are figments of my dirty little imagination.
This is my story, not yours. Don't sell it or put it on a pay site. You can keep it and/or give it away with all of this information intact, but if you make money off of it without my permission, you're breaking the law and pissing me off.
"Planetfall, Captain!" Bill's voice came over the intercom, "And they're hailing us!"
I closed my terminal, bookmarking my place in the log and made my way to the command deck.
"Any sign of the CM?" I asked as I took my place in the command chair.
"There are hundreds of artificial objects orbiting the planet, Captain," Bill replied, "but none of them matches the mass or size of the CM very closely, and we're not getting a transponder blip."
"Have you answered their hail yet?" I knew what protocol said, but it was best to be sure.
"We waited for you, Ma'am!"
"Very well, get them on com."
"Planet, this is the Golden Hind, just out from Earth in search of CM 21000203-2, a colonial mission sent out from Earth almost two thousand years ago. Can you help?"
"Golden Hind, this is Space Traffic Control, we have no record of your registry or your configuration, please verify your identity and port of origin."
"Space traffic control, this is Golden Hind. We do not originate from any port on your planet. I say again, we are of Earth origin. Repeat: Earth origin."
"Ah, roger that Hind, advise you take up parking orbit at L5 until we figure out what to do with you. Do you need to land on planet?"
Well, the planet's single moon meant that L5 wouldn't be too hard to locate, once we had orbital data on the moon. Mary should have that for us shortly.
"Negative on the landing, Space Traffic Control, we have shuttles."
"Copy you have shuttles, Hind. What is the purpose of your visit?"
Bureaucracies are the same everywhere, I guess.
"I say again, Space Traffic Control, we are in search of colonial missions sent out from Earth some two thousand Earth years ago. Specifically, we expected to find descendents of colonists on this planet from the mission designated CM 21000203-2. Are you descendents of those colonists?"
"Hold one, Hind."
Apparently, some sort of discussion was going on in Space Traffic Control.
"Ah, that information is unavailable at this time, Hind. However, your senior officers are requested to attend a briefing with the Planetary Government."
"Roger, Space Traffic Control. Please blip landing coordinates and instructions on this frequency. What do you call this planet?"
"This is Sanctuary, Hind. The President and senior members of his staff will meet with your senior officers at... 1800 hours, at the decon exit from the spaceport."
"Roger, Space Traffic Control. We'll need local time and clock sync data."
"Roger Hind. Will include in data packet. Squirting NOW!"
"Packet received, Space Traffic Control, decoding..." Bill said, "Ah, Space Traffic Control, you could speed this process for us if you'd send the private key..."
"Negative, Hind." the voice on the other end replied, "Strictly against policy to send private keys in clear."
"Roger, Space Traffic Control, wait one."
Mary was already working on it. Dual key encryption was an outmoded form of data security and it took less than a minute to break. Still, that was an eternity in modern computing time.
"Got it, Bill." Mary said in a sultry voice. Either Bill had been playing with her response characteristics, or the AI was getting WAY too fond of my coms officer.
"That's a Roger on the data packet, Space Traffic Control. We are synchronizing clocks and entering nav coordinates!"
"What! Uh, Golden Hind please repeat your last. I copy that you have decrypted the data packet without the private keys!"
"That's a roger on your copy, Space Traffic Control. We have decrypted the packet." Bill was showing off, now, even though it was Mary who did the real work.
"Uh, roger, Hind! See you at 1800 hours... Space Traffic Control, out!"
Before the speaker released his mike button, he could be heard talking to someone in the background: "How the hell did they do that?!"
"Golden Hind out!" Bill cut off the channel and turned to me wearing a smug expression.
It only took a few minutes observation on Mary's part to decipher relative orbits accurately enough to locate L5. This stable point between the orbits of the moon and the planet already had a couple of occupants. One looked like an observatory, the other, some kind of scientific platform. Neither challenged us or even gave notice of our presence.
The shuttle ride down was almost like landing at an Earth spaceport. Bureaucrats though they may have been, the Sanctuarians were efficient at handling ground-to-orbit and orbit-to-ground traffic.
The decontamination procedures were pretty good too, but, just to be sure, Gail supplemented the recommended meds with some from her own kit.
There was a delegation waiting for us as we exited the decon station, all male, all nude except for pouches strung from belts or shoulder straps. Instead of the excited greeting we expected, however, what we got was:
"You've got WOMEN with you?!" the apparent leader of the delegation exploded, "Well I hope to hell you brought dildoes, at least!"
Trying to remain calm, I said, "I'm Cecilia Barnes, Captain of the Golden Hind. All we were told was that you wanted to meet with the senior officers, so here we are."
"What nincompoop told them to come down here and didn't warn them about the apes?" the grey-haired gentleman grumbled. "Are there any stores in the port that sell dildoes?"
The entire entourage mumbled among themselves for a while, eventually dissolving into a mass of head-shaking.
"Would someone please explain what the problem is?" I said politely, though I could tell my blood pressure was going up. "Perhaps if we know, we can help with the solution."
"Sorry, Captain Barnes." the spokesman for the group said, "I'm forgetting why we are here. I'm President Guzman. Welcome to Sanctuary! We've never had anyone visit from another planet before. This is indeed a great honor!"
"Thank you Mr. President." I shook his hand, "Now, would someone please explain about dildoes and apes?"
"Oh, yes!" Guzman replied, "Well, they're not really apes, of course. They are an indigenous species that the original colonists thought resembled apes on earth. I, personally, wouldn't know, but the name stuck."
"So what do these indigenes have to do with women and dildoes?" Even though I had more information, I was even more confused.
"Well, you see," Guzman explained, "unlike humans, the apes have three separate sexes. The smallest, and most common of their sexes is actually a neuter that acts as an incubator for the offspring of the males and females. First the females deposit their eggs inside the neuter, then a male deposits his sperm. The apes are not very smart, and to them, our females look like neuters."
"Why?" I really was curious, "What differentiates neuters from males and females?"
"The neuters have no phallic projection." Another voice spoke up, then stuck out his hand to be shaken,"Dr. Nigel Mencke! I'm head of the Planetary Science Institute. I specialize in native biology."
"How do you do, Doctor?" I replied politely, "But what does the lack of a phallus have to do with anything?"
"Well, you see," said the doctor, "the females locate a neuter by sight, but their brains are not very discriminating. Any biped without a phallus, to them, is an egg repository. Females, you see, are equipped with a phallic shaped ovipositor. Males, on the other hand, seek out 'ripe' neuters by smell. Once the eggs have been deposited, their smell clings to the carrier until a male fertilizes them. The young then gestate within the neuter's body until they give birth to live babies. It's all very fascinating!"
"Fascinating it may be," I said, "but I still don't see..." but then I did!
"Of course! 'Any biped without a phallus will do'!" I said, "So a woman can be raped by a female indigene, having the eggs deposited inside her, then raped again by a male, to fertilize the eggs!"
Gail caught on too, "So women wear strap-ons to simulate having a phallus and avoid being attacked by the females! Clever! But why don't you just keep the indigenes out of spaces where humans are?"
Guzman and the rest looked at us in horror.
.... There is more of this story ...