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By Leem
Unsolicited Testimonial
Author’s note:
This story is part of a series that takes place in the same universe as The Chosen (female), The Sculptor’s Model (male), and the Jaskri (female) and Ketrin (male) stories. The links between these various stories may (or may not) become clearer as further interconnected stories appear.
After finishing Flotsam I spent quite some time tinkering with ideas for sequels and prequels. One that was been on the back-burner for ages involved a puritanical general who gets the conversion treatment and fights desperately to resist the temptations that follow.
For a long time I couldn’t get a handle on the story, until I suddenly thought: why not make the general a woman?
It was one of those moments where you spend ages slapping yourself on the head for not thinking of the idea sooner.
One severely slapped head (and two paracetamols) later, here’s the result.
Some of the concepts in the Flotsam stories were inspired by Margaret St. Clair’s 1953 story Thirsty God. The use I have made of those concepts is however original, and no plagiarism is intended.
As the aliens set me down in front of one of the niches, I see that it is occupied by a young woman, perhaps in her mid-twenties by standard reckoning.
Doll-like, she sits in her recess, arms by her sides. She is naked. Her entire body has turned blue and has grown to more than two metres in height.
She does not greet me by word or gesture. She cannot. She is paralysed, incapable of moving a muscle.
Those descriptions apply equally to me, and to the hundreds of other human and humanoid figures that crowd the niches overlooking this alien amphitheatre.
Upon her forehead she wears a jewelled headband like those the aliens wear, and it glows and flickers rhythmically. Her eyes are unfocussed; she seems to be in a trance. What have the alien perverts done to her, and what are they planning to do to me? One of my alien bearers reaches down to fondle my breasts, and there is nothing I can do to stop him. For the thousandth time, I try to fight the paralysis, to throw the disgusting creature aside, but I succeed only in twitching slightly.
One of the aliens cries out to its fellows in the arena below, and then it departs with the rest of the group that brought me, leaving me face to face with my fellow captive. A moment later the jewel ceases to glow, and her eyes move and focus, scanning her surroundings. Then she notices me, and I feel her thoughts reaching out. I sense that her natural telepathic power is weak, but is somehow being boosted by the crystal.
+I wondered why they stopped,+ she projects. +Welcome to Purgatory, stranger, or the nearest thing to it. Let me guess - your ship got sucked through the space warp in the Adumreb Tetrahedron and crashed here. Then you wandered into one of the deserted alien buildings and fell asleep. When you woke up you found that your body had somehow turned blue and gotten too big for your clothes. Some time after that - zap! - suddenly you couldn’t move. And then the aliens came and picked you up. Same old story.+
For a moment she pauses, then continues.
+My name’s...wait a minute, I’ll get it in a moment...thing about this place is, once they get going you can’t think about anything but what you’re feeling. After a while your memory starts to go. Did I tell you my name? I don’t remember. Only if I did, I’d be grateful if you could tell me what it is.+
No you didn’t, I think. And what exactly do they do when they “get going”?
+Oh, nothing much. They just fuck us. And they fuck each other. A lot. They’re totally obsessed with sex, you see, and once they put the circlets on us we’re like circuits in a big sexual amplifier. The crystals boost our sensations like a million times or something. It’s too much to take, but you just have to take it. Like it or not, you’re in for the biggest fuck of all time.+
Kindly moderate your language, I replied. It’s disgusting.
Naturally my own telepathy was surgically boosted, and carried the force of my anger behind it.
+Oh, you’re a prude, are you?+ projected the stranger. +Well, language or no language, my friend, you are about to be subjected to a sexual experience that will make your eyes bug out, and there is nothing, absolutely nothing, you can do about it.+
We’ll see about that, I thought, and strained and fought against the paralysis once more.
+Hey, that’s impressive,+ my neighbour projected. +You’re actually wriggling! I never saw anyone who was strong enough to fight the paresis before. Not that it’ll do you any good, of course. No matter how hard you struggle, you can’t stand up, and you certainly can’t run away. You can’t even crawl, and if you could the aliens’d only drag you back again. You might as well just prepare yourself for what’s coming. Heh...“coming”...no pun intended, but that’s all you’ll be doing until the end of the Universe, so you’d better get used to the idea.+
If those damned alien deviants think they’re going to get me to join in with their disgusting sex games, I tell her, they can just think again. I’m a general in the Realm of Light Space Corps, and I am specially trained to resist all forms of sexual stimulus.
+Oh, you’re a general, are you? Sorry I didn’t realise that, but you seem to be out of uniform at the moment.+
This is not funny, I tell her. My people have disciplined our bodies to the extent that all sexual stimulus has been eliminated from our lives. Because of this we experience none of the moral weaknesses that lead other races astray from the Path of True Purity.
+Oh, great. A society without sex. What could be more perfect than that?+
I can tell that she is being sarcastic, but I forgive her ignorance. Once I win free of this paralysis I will chastise her properly, and then she will beg me for forgiveness, as so many other deviants have done before her.
+So,+ she continues, +what do you people do for recreation, then? Knit socks?+
This is no laughing matter, I tell her. We have been taken captive by a hostile alien power and as prisoners of war it is our duty to escape.
+And just how do you plan to escape, general?+ she demands. +No matter how dedicated you are to your “duty,” there is no way to escape. Don’t you think everyone here has been trying for the last few centuries? We’re all paralysed. We’re all living statues. We...can’t...fucking...MOVE! We...can...NEVER...fucking...move again! The only thing we can do is sit and take what’s coming to us. Huh. “Coming.” There’s that word again.+
Enough of this, I tell her. I have heard enough of your disgusting language!
+You’d better just walk over here and stop me then, hadn’t you?+ she replies. Her face is an impassive mask, but the tone of her thoughts is sneering.
+Anyway,+ she continues, +where’s this “war” you’re talking about? War means killing, and our little friends here never kill anybody. They never even quarrel amongst themselves. They’re the least hostile race I ever heard of. I don’t think they consider us prisoners. I don’t believe they really think of us as people at all, just as sex toys. They’re addicted to sex, and we’re their fix.
+Look at me. Right now I’m practically having a non-stop orgasm just from wearing the circlet. If they just left me like this I’d be content, but this is only the lowest level of stimulation. Once they start groping me, and each other, it’s like having a million orgasms at once. It’s ecstasy and agony rolled into one. You want to run, you want to leap up and flail your limbs in every direction, you want to scream with pain and pleasure...you want to do something, anything, just to respond to the overpowering stimulus you’re receiving...and you can’t. You can’t do anything at all. And it goes on forever.+
If the Realm ever hears about them it will send a fleet to wipe them out. We are dedicated to expunging all sexual perversion in the galaxy.
+Don’t think I care much for your Realm, my friend. An entire galaxy without orgasms? I’d rather be dead. The Followers of the Maiden teach that sex can be the highest expression of love, and that the repression of sexual instincts is the greatest ever source of neurosis and emotional instability in any society.+
I’ve heard of those Maidenist perverts. They worship a statue and spend all their time prattling about freedom. Well, their kind of freedom only leads to excess, perversion and decadence. It’s just the kind of freedom that the Realm of Light is determined to stamp out.
+Kind of ironic, isn’t it? Somebody has stamped out your freedom, and yet you don’t seem too happy about it!+
I am growing tired of this conversation, I tell her.
+Well, looks like our time’s nearly up anyway. They’re coming back. Best of luck with your resistance training.+
Two of the aliens approached me. One of them is male and has a disgusting erection. The other, a female with huge, pendulous breasts, is carrying a gold circlet like my neighbour’s, which it places upon my head.
The moment the jewel makes contact with my forehead I am assailed by sensations. My body begins to tingle from head to foot, but the tingling is concentrated upon my genitalia.
With all my might I resist the stimulus. I am trained to resist all forms of sexual temptation, whether they involve whores, drugs, pornography, rape or telepathic stimulation. Never before has my resistance been broken. My score at the Academy was among the highest in my year. And yet, despite my best efforts, my breasts are throbbing and my clitoris is slowly but surely becoming aroused, and as it does so I feel a growing sense of arousal throughout my entire body.
+What did I tell you?+ projects the other woman. +Your body’s been physically altered so that it can’t resist arousal, especially while you’re wearing that circlet. No amount of training or dogma can prevent what’s happening to you.+
I am beginning to feel her arousal as well. Clearly the circlets are some kind of telepathic amplifiers. To my horror and disgust the two aliens began to copulate at my feet, and I can feel everything they are doing to each other as if it is happening to me.
By the time the aliens reach their fourth or fifth orgasm my skin is almost unbearably sensitised. With all my might I try to ignore the sensations that are being forced upon me, but they keep breaking through my resistance and threatening to overpower me. The aliens seem to sense my resistance, but that only seems to excite them all the more. The male breaks off from copulating with the female and begins to fondle my breasts again. Then it spends some time licking my pubis with its thick tongue before slowly inserting it into my vagina. Its tongue is long and articulate and in constant motion, and before long my body is aflame with ecstasy.
No, I think. This is not what I desire! These are the temptations of Hell and I will not succumb!
+I tell you, it’s no use resisting,+ my human companion thinks. +They never stop until they get what they want. Besides, you’re about twice as horny as I am already, so when they really get started it’ll blow you away, no pun intended.+
What...do you mean...really get...started? I demand, desperately trying not to let my body respond to the alien’s insistent tonguing.
+Didn’t I explain that? This is just foreplay. Once all the aliens down in the arena join in you’re going to start feeling everything that every man, woman and humanoid in this amphitheatre is feeling, and it’ll be amplified a thousand - a million - times by the circlets. Right now it’s just the two of us and the two alien lovebirds, and I already feel like screaming with pleasure, and...ohhh, I felt that all right! The alien with the tongue just hit your trigger. There’s nothing you can do to prevent yourself coming now. My advice is to just try and go with it, otherwise it’ll drive you crazy.+
No!...I...must...resist! The...aliens...are...sinners and...perverts...and to succumb...to their...temptations invites...damnation!
+It’s no use, friend. I keep on telling you, it’s impossible to resist. The more you try, the harder they’ll stimulate you. Anyway, none of us is going to Heaven or Hell for a while. We could be stuck here for a million years, and until then there is absolutely nothing any of us can do but sit here and take what’s coming to us, no pun intended again.+
No, I think. I will not...meekly accept my...fate! I will not...I will not...I...will...N...O...T...
But then...but then.......
Oh, dear God, I have never experienced anything remotely like this!
It is as if my entire body is experiencing the orgasmic sensations that (had I actually had orgasms before) would normally be confined to my genital area. My genitalia themselves are experiencing sensations amplified by several orders of magnitude.
I can tell that my human companion is also feeling my sensations, eagerly drinking them in like the disgusting deviant she is. It is almost as if I am having sex with her as well, perverted as sex between two women is. I am disgusted, appalled, repelled by the notion, as I should quite properly be.
And yet, if I am to be brutally honest with myself, some part of me is actually becoming excited by it.
I have failed. This is the disgusting, impure, deviant, perverted carnal lust against which I have fought all my life.
But no...this is what I have been missing all my life!
But what am I thinking? This is the most...vile...sinful...lust...I...cannot....
And then, just as my fellow victim warned me, the sensations reach a level that is far too intense to resist, and suddenly all my training, all my conditioning, everything I have been taught about the evils of carnality, suddenly melts away like an iceberg in a supernova.
I stare at my companion, seeing her as if for the first time. Her arms, her legs, her stomach, her breasts, her lips, her hair, her eyes....
She is beautiful, I realise, blue and beautiful. She is the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen. Just looking at her is intensifying and prolonging my orgasmic sensations. I wish I could hold her, caress her, taste her, own her.
But as it is, I can only sit and stare at her.
Give me your sensations, I demand of her. Let me feel your orgasm as well as mine. I have to have them! I have to have more!
+Ahh,+ she thinks. +You’ve overcome your conditioning, have you? Congratulations. Now if you’ll only ask nicely....
Please, I think, my conditioning well and truly shattered. Oh, please, I need more! I want more! I have to experience all that I have missed all these years! Please give me your pleasure, and you can have all of mine!
+I’m only too happy to oblige, general,+ she thinks, and does so.
Her sensations are not as intense as my own, but they are sweeter and more sensuous. Together our ecstasy is grater than our individual pleasures put together.
Through this veil of orgasms I project: Please...don’t call me...general...any more. My...name...is...my name...my name...is...+
And then the aliens in the arena begin their orgy, and all conscious thought is driven from my head. My sensations are a hundred, a thousand, a million times stronger than before. My name is forgotten. It wasn’t important anyway.
My fellow victim...no, call her what she is now: my lover...told me this would be too intense to bear, that it would be ecstasy and agony rolled into one...but to my surprise, I can bear it, and while she is linked to me, so can she. This seems to be a side effect of my training. Once I was able to block ecstasy and focus on intellect; now I can block agony and focus on ecstasy, and no matter how much of it there is I want more. And with every day, week and year that passes (or whatever else passes for time on this bizarre planet) the ingenious aliens find ways to give us more.
The Maidenists supposedly worship a living statue who generates a positive energy field called the golden lightning with her everlasting orgasm. Sitting here, eternally paralysed in the grip of a million orgasms, staring into the eyes of my beautiful, paralysed lover as she experiences a million more, I can well believe that such golden lightning is radiating from our bodies as well.
Perhaps it will tunnel back through the space warp and enrich the rest of the galaxy. I hope so. Certainly my former colleagues in the Realm of Light could do with a good healthy dose of it to shake them all back to reality.
But in time all such thoughts and speculations are washed away by the everlasting flood of orgasms, and we can only exchange one thought, back and forth, forever:
I love you. +I love you.+ I love you. +I love you.+ I love you. +I love you.+ I love you. +I love you.+ I love you. +I love you.+ I love you. +I love you.+ I love you. +I love you.+ I love you. +I love you.+ I love you. +I love you.+ I love you. +I love you.+ ...............
From janelee on 26 January 2003:
Sexual overload is a delightful concept. So is helplessness to stop it. The story needs to be longer. The forced nature of the orgasms as well as the humiliation angle needs more definition for my taste. The orgasms and their symptoms could expressed in this good, but too short story; by letting her statue excrete some liquid from some orifice(s). The statues could exude a song muted as the gathering excites her to max. These personal tastes withstanding, The story is a b+. Thanks for the entertainment.
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