The Reach
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2016 by Gabrielle Prevot

Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - This is the first section of a longer piece I am currently working. I would love some feedback. It's sci-fi futanari, but I wanted to delve into the backstory of the characters a little more, paint a better picture than a 5,000 word short story. Questions, comments, criticisms, and concerns, let me know.

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Teenagers   Consensual   Romantic   Lesbian   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Hermaphrodite   Fiction   Science Fiction   First  

I had been in the forest for two days and I had nothing to show for it. I’m not exactly sure where my mind was at. Normally, I would have had at least a deer, maybe a boar, or a few fat birds to show for my efforts.

I was close on the trail of a solitary deer, the tracks were still fresh and I had a feeling I knew the meadow it was heading for. A cool breeze blew through the trees and tickled the fur along my ears and tail. Flicking my tail playfully, I was just about to dash off in the direction of my prey when I heard her. My ears twitched. I heard sticks and leaves crushed underfoot, gasping breath, and running feet. It was one person but ... I smelled the air ... I couldn’t smell her, but she sounded like a herd of elephants running through the forest.

Curious, I ducked down behind a bush just before she came into view. Her eyes were wild, her long hair was matted to her head with sweat, and the dress she was wearing was covered in dirt and leaves. She looked afraid, desperately afraid. She ran by me like she was on fire, like there was a wild animal nipping at her heels. I almost called out, the thought crossed my mind, but I didn’t know why she was running. It wasn’t often that settlers came this far into the forest. Was there someone chasing her?

She was running as fast as she could, her black boots digging into the soft earth with every step, but her clothes and the fact that she obviously wasn’t used to running in the woods made her incredibly easy to follow. She was fast, already out of sight when I stepped out from behind the little bush I had hid in, but I knew I could catch her.

Three days hunting and nothing to show for it. Looking back, I probably should have let her go, but I couldn’t. Settlers fascinated me, always had, and after I was sure there was nothing chasing her, I slipped onto the trail of broken branches and downtrodden bushes she left behind and started after her.

She was running toward the Aspera, the river that divided our land from the Ghe. What she didn’t know was that the hills formed a natural valley with steep dropoffs above the river’s edge. I stopped when I saw a deep divot near a fallen tree, her heel had dug into the earth and then twisted. She had apparently tried to jump the width of the trunk but missed. There was a small piece of black cloth hanging from the point of a broken branch. I picked it up and smelled it.

It never ceased to amaze me, the way settlers smelled. Their clothes, their skin, even their hair always had some kind of odd smell. They called it perfume, but to me it smelled like bitter flowers.

My ears twitched and I felt the earth vibrate slightly. I thought of the hill we were on, the way you had to cut west if you wanted to avoid the sudden drop to the river. She must have missed it. I heard the woman fall, a little scream echoed through the trees.

I shook my head and started running again. I couldn’t help but smile. I loved running through the forest, loved the way the light flickered between the leaves and branches, the way the air felt as it moved past my ears and along my skin. I glanced down at my bare feet and saw the anklet Dumi had given me. The little orange feathers she had tied to the back of the leather strap floated and bounced like they were trying to fly every time I took a step.

Grabbing a low branch, I swung myself up into a tree, ran along one branch and then jumped higher into the next tree. To the settlers, moving through the trees was impossible, but for us it was second nature. We had better balance, we were leaner and lighter.

I ducked under a branch, into another tree, and stopped. From my perch near the edge of the hill, I could see the place where the woman had slipped. She had tried to grab a small sapling and had yanked it free. The hole in the ground was where her fall began, a hundred paces further down was where it stopped.

I crouched down and stared at the forest around me. Although my cat ears could hear amazingly well, I still needed to concentrate to separate the sound of the woman’s footsteps from the river and the rest of the forest’s sounds. I couldn’t see her. I listened for a moment, turning my ears this way and that, trying to catch the sound of her running, but there was nothing.

Maybe the fall injured her. I held my breath and listened again. She couldn’t have gone far. Then I caught it, the sound of footsteps along the pebbled shore of the river. She was dragging her feet, obviously exhausted, and probably trying to find a place to cross. I tried to gauge the distance in my head. She wasn’t running anymore, but if she crossed the river, she was going to be in the middle of Ghe territory. And the Ghe didn’t treat the settlers like we did.

I glanced around and tried to pick the cleanest, fastest route down the hill and along the shore. I doubled back a bit and stayed in the trees, running high in the branches to catch up with her. I darted left and found myself facing a long jump, longer than I was ready to just dash for.

I backed up against the trunk of the tree and tried to count how many paces I had. I picked the place I wanted to land. I could make it. I was sure. I took a breath, ran as fast as I could, and leapt out into the air.

There is nothing quite like a good jump, especially a dangerous one that pushes your limits and sets a flock of butterflies loose in your stomach. My tail whipped back and forth, the air sounded like the world was whispering a secret I couldn’t understand.

The branch I had aimed for flew at me like a spear, but I was lower than I wanted to be and so I had to reach out and grab it with my hands, use the force of my jump to swing myself back up, and then regain my balance on top. It was tricky, and a little noisier than I had hoped - every tree branch I touched seem to thunder and shake its leaves like it was shouting at me - but I made it.

When I got to a large oak whose branches actually crossed over the Astera, the woman was picking her way along the river bank thirty or forty paces ahead of me. I looked around. If I was going to cross the river and stay in the trees, this was where I needed to do it. But is the woman didn’t cross and just continued on, I was going to have to double back.

I stared down at the woman as she held her arms out from her sides, trying to stay balanced, stepping from stone to stone along the bank, scanning the running water for a shallow place to cross. I recognized the dress, there was a yellow cursi on the sleeves, she was a nun.

It had been a long time since the settlement had sent anyone to our village. I guess they figured that, since the last three (two nuns and a priest) hadn’t returned, we were probably beyond their message. Of course, they had no way of knowing that both nuns had decided to join our tribe and that the priest had died happily on the altar.

I decided to cross the river. I wanted to stay high in the trees, and there was an easy path to get ahead of her if she did decided to cross. I used the oak’s thick branches like a bridge and darted into the trees on the Ghe side of the river, stopping once I was even with her, moving through the trees parallel to her.

The woman walked for a few more minutes, stepping and sliding along the moss covered rocks, before she decided on a place to cross.
From my perch, I looked down at the middle of the river and it was so deep the water went from clear to almost black. I would have had trouble crossing the spot she chose and I wear little clothing and have cat-like reflexes.

I wanted to say something, shout a word of warning, and show her that there was a better place just a few paces down, but then she would have known I was there.

The nun stepped into water that barely reached her ankles. She looked relieved and then faced the span of the river with determination. She took another, unsteady step. Her leg disappeared to the knee and she gave a sharp little gasp as the cold water filled her boot.

I realized I was holding my breath as I watched, wrestling with myself for not helping. We we were not allowed to visit the settlement, that was a rule. But there was no rule that said we couldn’t interact with a settler we found in the forest. I stared down at her and something inside of me stirred. I almost felt bad for following her this far without saying anything, for spying on her, but I didn’t know what to say or if I should say. I was confused and a little scared.

Meanwhile, the woman caught her left leg up with her right and stood in the current holding the black dress up around her thighs. She had gone too far to go back. She was nervous. I watched as she looked back and forth, trying to find better footing. She turned at the waist and lifted her left foot, to take a step back toward the shore, but her right foot couldn’t hang on and she slipped.

A sharp little gasp and scream echoed through the trees around us. Then came the dunking sound of her splash. She fell backward into a sitting position. The water came up to her chest.

I stifled a laugh and watched as the nun slammed her hands against the surface of the water and groaned in frustration. The fabric of her dress spread out in the billow of the current.

It took her a few moments to get to her feet. Soaked, her tunic reflected the dappled sunlight and clung close to her form. I lowered myself along the branch and stared down at her.

Even with her habit askew and soaked to the bone, she was pretty. If I had to guess, I would have said early twenties. It was difficult to tell, every settler I had ever seen always looked older than they really were. Some said it was because they weren’t from our planet, that they were not children of the forest and therefore part of the world rather than inhabitants of it.

Every time one came to our village, they looked exhausted, like they hadn’t slept in days or weeks, but this one looked younger than most. I watched as she she slogged her way across the rest of the river. She fell once and had to swim through the deepest part, but she made it.

When she reached the far side, she looked around for a moment. The bank of the river on the Ghe side was a wide blanket of green grass and trees. And maybe that is why she picked that spot to cross, but she wasn’t concerned with the forest. No, she looked around like she wanted to be sure no one was watching or following her.

I sat as still as I could, convinced she must have sensed me in the tree above her. She looked around, scanning the opposite shore and the nearby trees for a few minutes. Once she was satisfied, sure there was no one around, she lifted off her habit and let her long, dark hair free of the wrinkled headpiece and haphazard bun she had kept it in.

It was always so strange seeing people without furry ears on top of their heads or long, furry tails. I remembered the first time I saw a settler. He was escorted into the village by three of our hunters who said he had been spying for the ship that had crashed on the far side of the forest.

They had bound his wrists with thick rope and walked him right past our house to the center of the village, to the circle of elders, and stood him next to the altar. Everyone had been there. I remember walking around the man with all of my friends talking about the fact that someone must have cut off his tail and maybe his ears too. We laughed at the strange way he watched us, spinning his head around at every sound rather than just focusing his ears like we did.

The older ones, my parents and everyone else in our village, had spoken of him like he was a devil. Of course, back then, humans were still new and strange, so much like us, but different enough that everyone was a little afraid.

Of course, I didn’t know anything. I acted tough like I had seen a hundred, but all I knew were the stories. People had only just realized that the people from the crash were survivors of some other race, some travelers from the stars. At first the elders said they were evil spirits.

Later, after they had built their first towns, the settlers sent missionaries deep into the forest to teach us and the other tribes about their gods.

I was twelve when the first missionaries came, a man and two women. They had all been dressed in the strange black clothing that covered most of their skin, the habit of the cursi. The guards and a few of the hunters had wanted to kill them, but Soru brought the council together and took the missionaries to the sitwa. I remember, my entire tribe gathered around the building. Everyone had wanted to know what was going on inside, everyone had wanted to hear a scrap, even just a few words.

It had taken hours but when the elders emerged, the priest was put on the altar and the two nuns became Juoni.

Sitting on the branch almost directly over the nun, my curiosity was getting the better of me. I had always wondered why the missionaries had stayed in the village. Why they had become servants to us, content to carry out any wish or command, sometimes binding themselves to a single family, but sometimes just binding themselves to the village as a whole.

Even after listening to Jennifer and Sarah, two missionaries that decided to stay in the village when I was a little girl, explain their reasons as best they could, it didn’t make much sense to me.

Sarah said it was the will of her god. That she knew it the moment the elders had marked them that she was supposed to stay, that she was born to serve us. And she had, I had known her since I was young and she had served every family in the village at one point or another.

Like it was made of pottery and fragile, the nun below me sat the white coif on the stones behind her and dusted off some unseen debris.

I slipped quietly along the branch so I could get a better view. I couldn’t help myself, there was something about human women that I found so ... pleasing.

I can’t actually say what it is about human women that is so hot, I mean, they’re almost exactly like us. The have breasts much like ours, they have cunts like we do, they wear their hair long, but they don’t have cocks like we do. Only their men have the long appendage between their legs and theirs are much smaller than ours and they don’t have any slit.

Sitting quietly a few yards above her head, I stared down as the nun started working on the remainder of her gowns.

As she slipped off the belt and then began on her sleeves, I wondered what brought her to the strange religion. Our people had always considered the nuns and priests strange for their beliefs. They would come to our village and try to convince us to wear more clothing, stop the sukopuoli, and the marking and the binding - they really didn’t much care for the way we lived.

Of course, it was amazing how quickly they discarded their beliefs once they were marked. Once the elders touched their lips with the sacred water, they no longer seemed to care about their god or their strange rituals.

The nun carefully laid her sleeves beside her habit and then lifted the soaking scapular over her head. She carefully folded the fabric until she held it in both hands and then gave it a few twists to wring the water out of it.

Next came the long, woolen belt and then she reached over her shoulder and started on the habit itself. She looked frustrated and upset. I couldn’t blame her, she had run so far, I was pretty sure she didn’t know where she was.

She slipped the habit over her shoulders and her breasts bounced free. They were bigger than I thought they would be, the fabric held them tight against her chest, which I guess was probably the point. And her skin was pale, almost white, from being covered all of the time.

I liked the ivory smoothness of her skin, like she was made of alabaster, cut from some living stone. She shimmied out of the wet fabric and I stared down at her.

She was naked now, except for the long stockings and soaking wet boots. She was stronger than I expected, lean with muscles along her arms and legs. No wonder she was so fast.

Holding up the dripping wet dress, she gently folded it and then began to twist. She stuck one end of the dress between her knees as an anchor and then twisted with both hands. Muscles ripples along her arms and, as she turned, I saw a single, round scar just below her shoulder blade.

I watched her continue to wring the dress, the water flowing out of the fabric like rain. I didn’t expect her to be so strong. Everything I knew about the church indicated that they did very little physical work. But this nun was almost as strong as I was. There was very little of the curvature that comes with privilege. She didn’t have the body of Liandra, one of the elder’s daughters. No, the way she pulled and strained, determined to get as much water out of the dress as she could, I could tell she was accustomed to hard work. You can tell a lot from a person’s actions.

Once the torrent of water stopped, she shook the dress out and turned it toward a thin ray of sunlight.

I stared down at the curve of her form, the gentle hourglass that ended in the shape of her ass. A little flutter of excitement went through me. I loved the way human pussies hung down between their legs. It was slightly different than the way our bodies looked. With our cocks hidden inside of us, our pussies still didn’t hang like a human woman’s. We were smoother. Human pussies hung between their thighs like ripe fruit, a split pomegranate.

The nun turned around and walked to the tree I was lounging in. She looked at the lower branches for a spot to hang the dress.

My breath caught in my throat. I was pretty far up in the tree, but I wasn’t invisible. If she started looking around...

Below me, she draped one side of the garment over a thin branch and then tried to spread it wide. But the wet fabric was still too heavy.

She changed her tactic and laid the bottom half over one branch and then tried again, slowly walking the dress out and trying to find a branch to bear the other half without pulling the bottom free. But it didn’t work. There wasn’t a branch strong enough to hold the width of the dress, not as low as she was working.

So, she started to look higher into the tree. And yes, you guessed it, this is where my plan fell apart.

I was too far out. You see, once I had realized that the woman was going to take off all of her clothes, I had moved away from the trunk of the tree and shimmied out onto a branch so I could see her better. I didn’t know she was going to hang the dress and, even if I had guessed that she would, why would she choose my tree? There were twenty or thirty in easy reach.

The real problem though was that I was laying down on the branch, like a cheetah or a lioness perched in a tree. I balanced my body by with my right leg dangling over one side while the width of the tree branch ran from between my legs and breasts. My hips were just slightly shifted to the left so I could watch without really thinking about balance.

Of course, this left me dangerously exposed and though my skin was three shades darker than the nun below me, and my clothes were made of a dark leather free of colors, I was by no means invisible.

The nun started looking higher into the tree. Her eyes moved from branch to branch.

I wanted to move, wanted to slip back to the safety of the tree’s trunk, but I knew moving would draw her eye. I didn’t want to be seen. There was no reason for me to be there, watching her like some kind of spy.

The panic of getting caught and the excitement of watching her strip put me in an odd position. I felt the color rise in my cheeks and felt the familiar pressure below my waist. Another minute of gawking and imagining what the nun would feel like in my arms and I was going to have to pull my penis free. Distraction. Yes, I needed a distraction. I glanced down at the dark-haired nun below me and started to count the pieces of the dress.

Lets see, she took off the hat first. That’s one. Then the sleeves. That’s two and three. I took a couple of deep breaths and got myself under control.

The nun found a branch close to the trunk and just over her head. In order to reach it, she tried a quick little jump - everything floated up and then bounced down before settling back into place. Her breasts were so much bigger than mine.

On her little human frame, her breasts were large, round pillows of flesh. By contrast, my own were half the size, handfuls with constantly erect nipples. It was another difference, every human female I had ever seen or heard of had the body of our tribal leaders - softer, rounder bodies with large breasts and supple thighs. I had never seen one built like a hunter.

Nothing worked. She couldn’t reach the branch she wanted and I was just about to start moving back toward the center of the tree, silently cursing myself for putting myself out in the open, when she took a few steps toward the end of the branches.

She started looking up again, and I could tell she was no longer looking for the strength of the branches, but their spread. I smiled as she started to lay the fabric over branches heavy with leaves and a wide array of smaller branches. I thought of how my mother would have cut them for a bundle to hang over the windows on the sunny side of our little hut.

The nun draped the flowing bottom of the skirt across a few branches and then worked along the top.

I didn’t move. I was within a stone’s throw of her. I could hear her breathing. It seemed impossible that she hadn’t seen me, but I was determined not to give myself away. Instead, I watched her work.

Her long fingers laid the fabric smooth across the branches like she was building a small shelter. After the dress was satisfactorily hung, she turned and walked back to the stream for her sleeves.

I thought of moving, but it was only a few paces to the knee high rocks she had spread the rest of her habit on and besides, I liked to watch her body move, their was a rhythm to it that was impossible to ignore - and it had been weeks since the last sukopuoli.

The nun returned with the sleeves and found more suitable branches to hang them on. “I don’t suppose you’ve realized that I can see you.”

I heard the words but it took a moment before my brain actually registered what she’d said. She didn’t look up when she said it. She was hanging the second sleeve, straightening it out so that the earth could pull the water out of it.

I swallowed hard and tried to think of something to say. My mind went blank. I mean, what was I supposed to say. Um, yeah, first I chased you through the woods, and then I sat here and spied on you while you took off all your clothes.

She tilted her head slightly while her fingers worked along the seam in the fabric. “Does your tribe not speak Ghel?” She turned her head and I met her eyes.

“Puhutki minun kielo?” The nun said the words slowly.

For some reason, I thought of the way Jennifer spoke our native tongue, the strange inflections sometimes, the misuse of specific words. The nun had used the right words but put them in the wrong order. “I know Ghel,” I heard myself saying before I realized I was speaking.

“Good,” she made a final adjustment to the fabric and then took a step back, looked up at me, and put her hands on her hips, waiting. “I don’t suppose you’re going to come down?” Her tone was not that of a woman who was embarrassed by her situation. Had it been me on the ground and some strange person in a tree watching me get naked, I would have turned three shades of red and either run off into the woods or put an arrow very near their head. But the nun was brazen, almost proud, as she stood on the ground threadbare except for torn stockings and heavy, leather boots.

My body shifted until I was upright on the branch, one leg on each side, and then I arched my back and flipped my body, long-ways, over the branch I was on and down onto another where, without stopping, I stepped free and plummeted to the ground in a graceful arc before landing upright in front of the naked nun.

She took a short breath and a half step back but she was more impressed than afraid. “Nicely done,” she said with a smile.

I bowed slightly from the waist. “Thanks,” I grinned sheepishly.

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