Zorg – Fuck Your Way to Freedom!

They talk a lot about the blackness of outer space. Yet, you only realize how black it is, when you open your eyes during a dark Earth night. What you notice is that the absence of light appears as a dark gray with a lot of colorful squiggles running across your vision. You open and close your eyes. And, you can't tell the difference. So, like with your eyes closed, the lack of optic nerve stimulation lets you see black. The lack of light stimulation lets your mind paint colorful shapes and dots on your vision. Only, when you consciously realize that darkness appears not as black to us, do you realize how marvelous it is to look out of a spaceship into the true and unadulterated black. You see black for the very first time.

Outside the window was the bright white space station approaching. The sunlight and radiation were unfiltered by Earth's atmosphere out here. The toned windows protected from hazardous UV radiation. Still the space station was sparklingly white and well defined. It was a cube, which had been tossed up into the air to hover around Titan, Saturn's largest moon. Its edges were unaligned to anything like the movie of a dice freeze framed, as the dice flew across the gambling table. There were two round docking mounds for space ships to attach.

There were two docking mounds, because the space station was a transfer station. Passengers would arrive by conventional space ship. They would be screened for travel to Titan. Then, they would transfer to an inversely propelled space ship. The atmosphere of Titan is filled with Methane. In order to ignite the Methane, one has to carry oxygen as fuel. On earth, we are trained to think of gasoline and the like as fuel, because oxygen is plentiful around. On Titan, methane is plentiful around. Oxygen is the rare partner for the chemical explosion that propels. Thus, a specially designed spaceship with oxygen as fuel has to descend through Titan's atmosphere to the base station.

Riley was the sole passenger on the small shuttle looking out of the window. Her blonde hair with a dash of dirt color was floating in the air. Without gravity, the hair had unfolded into a large bush. The air softly curled her straight hair. Movements rippled through her hair as coral plants wave under water with the current. In her youthful excitement about her first space travel, she had forgotten to consider her dress. She was wearing a white knee long skirt with soft round folds like a tennis player. She had pulled all the excess fabric of the skirt into one spot, wrapped it around the right thigh, and stuffed in between her legs. That way, she could squeeze her knees together and pin the extra fabric in place. Otherwise, the skirt would float open flashing the tall, trim black pilot, who fumbled over the controls for final approach.

Riley's mind was beautifully empty. She had graduated from high school a day earlier. So, all the thoughts about homework, tests, and academic subjects were tossed from her mind like a wilted bouquet of flowers that no longer served its purpose. Freeing her mind of friends and places that she left behind, she as able to be in the moment. She took in the sights of the space shuttle, space, and space station.

Most of all, her sensual awareness was particularly acute of the clothes that she was wearing. The white skirt was of soft combed cotton like quality. The skirt was brand new and had the sensation of crispness. The panties under the dress had bright pink rubber keeping it in place. The rubber ends around her thighs and the one around her belly made her conscious of her pelvis, butt, and toto. Even with her eyes fastened on the approaching space station, she vividly remembered the tiny pink bows fastened to her panties. The backside of her panties ran narrowly covering only a little wider than her ass crack. She was acutely aware of her ass in those new panties, as she had tossed out the old, worn, and comfortable ones to start her new life.

Her top was covered by a dark green t-shirt that said: "I am kind of a big deal." The bottom of the t-shirt kept creeping up on her belly. Her white belly was a mix of baby fat and Pilates workouts. The pilot had been careful to sneak an eye on it every once in a while. He had caught a glimpse as high as her naval button. Glittery jewelry that looked a tiara was hanging from it. Every time, she caught herself showing a slit of her belly, she'd quickly pull the t-shirt down and into her skirt. She'd check the face of the pilot looking away into space, always suspecting that he had glimpsed her a second earlier.

The bra under her shirt was like her panties rimmed by a pink line. The white fabric was dotted with small printed birds. Their color was alternating between light and dark pink. The bra pressed her breast into two bouncy round shapes.

Her look was finished by the black high heels with thin straps that ran across her naked foot. Her juice toes rested at the front of the shoes. The soles were a couple inches above the ground as gravity didn't press them down. The insides arches of her feet curved up wonderfully from the sole. Otherwise, the shoes stuck slightly to her feet, because the soles were smooth and her foot a bit moist. The high heels seemed utterly unpractical in the weightless environment.

She looked forward to meeting her parents at the research station. As little as the pay of academic workers was, they were unable to pay for her college. As spit poor as she was, she could not afford her own house and had to move in with her parents. The jobs on the research station were very limited. She was glad to be accepted as a lab assistant. Being a lab assistant would mean that she would carry out all the experiments that the scientists were too afraid to carry out themselves. Biological contamination was the main concern. So, she was at the bottom rung of jobs that considered the worker disposable. Still, having her first job out of college was exciting.

"Come dung, Miss. We buck up da space station," said the pilot with Jamaican accent. The spaceship vibrated as the safety screws drilled itself into the space station port. Riley's hair had tiny ripples running through her hair until the vibrations stopped. The pilot climbed out of his forward facing seat. He paused for a second. He got a good look of Riley's appearance. She looked had the pep of a cheerleader that had gone lazy on the coach for a couple months. Then, he unlocked the storage bin and handed the luggage to her. The luggage was a carry on trolley with Hello Kitty printed on it. The wheels were useful on earth. Here the carry on floated in the air on its own.

"Star, I do not have permission to board the space station. Only employees of the Umbrella Corporation are allowed to enter. You best put the luggage in front of you, misses, and hold onto it well," said the pilot. He reached with one hand each onto a metal grip in the floor. With a turn, he pulled a round metal plate out that was the size of a large manhole. Beyond the manhole was a large empty metal hold. The space stations sole purpose was to process traffic going in and out of Titan. As such, it had only minimal furnishings. Large windows provided an impressive experience of being out in space. The sign of the Umbrella Corporation was painted largely onto the walls.

Riley unclipped the seat belt that had kept her firmly in her seat. It was the last time that she would feel true leather. The research station on Titan conducted biological DNA experiments. Introducing any organic substances as innocuous as a leather arm band could pose a big risk. If the DNA of the dead cow or pig would get airborne, it could mix with experimental viral DNA to create dangerous unknown experiment outcomes. She touched the white painted leather seat one last time with her hand as she gently pushed herself off to float towards the luggage and the pilot.

The pilot held her shoulder to steady her. She held the top strap of her carry on. She crunched her abdominals to make a quarter turn down towards the manhole opening. Yet, without gravity as a partner, her legs moved up instead of her torso down. She waved with her free hand, as if she were gripping into thin air. Only her hand moved through the air. The pilot's dark hands grabbed her white wrist respectfully and placed it on the edge of the manhole opening. "Cool runnings," said the pilot with a big grin of his white teeth.

With her luggage in front of her face, she pulled herself towards the manhole. Her body didn't turn straight like the drag of water would have done underwater. So, her torso went through the manhole, yet her legs bumped against the wall. The bump had her impulsively react. She forgot for a moment to keep her knees clutched together. The skirt immediately floated out to put itself into the most comfortable position for the fabric. The fabric spread out like a wide lamp shade.

She rapidly pushed the front of the skirt against the front of her thighs. Yet, she could not control her backside. She knew that the pilot was looking at her sexy black high heels and the pink brimmed underwear covering her firm round ass. She blushed. She felt helpless. Her mind stopped working. She only had two hands. One had to keep her luggage from getting lost in the huge inside hall of the space station. The other kept the skirt down enough to avoid her showing the panties completely. The Jamaican pilot called out 'yaga, yaga' behind her.

The inside of the space station was a large cube. The only thing in the space station was in the middle of the opposite wall. It was a large desk attached to the wall with two large round metal poles. Behind the desk were two security officers sitting in chairs. They were strapped to the chair to resemble authority sitting behind a powerful desk. They looked similar like brothers. They were large framed man in a suit like uniform. Their faces were dark from an unidentifiable ethnicity. Their noses looked like they had been bashed in with a former fight, because they were flat. Creases ran across their fatty faces that were either from smoking or another bad habit. They looked like bullies, pigs in space.

They tossed her a rope with a ball. The ball was the weight that pulled her rope. The rope was rock climbing rope with the braids visible and cheerfully bright colors. A carabiner was there for Riley to clip her luggage in. Next Riley took the time to make herself a bit less of a mess. She pinned the rope and ball under her arm pit. With her hands free, she gathered her skirt again and pinned it between her knees. She pulled down her t-shirt and tucked it into her skirt. If only she had a rubber band for her hair, which was floating around wildly. Thus, poised, she waited for the winch to pull her to the table with the security guards.

Once in front the desk with the towering authority behind it, she saw the little rubber booties. There were two metal rods protruding under the table. At the end of them were two rubber flaps. They looked like water skiing booties. They were meant for travelers to put their feet in them. That way, they would be fastened in place in that free floating weightless environment.

The desk had two cages with metal mesh. The metal mesh would keep the travel items from flying away during inspection. She put her carry on into one cage. She took of her black strappy leather high heels and put them in. The guards were unabashedly watching her feet, as she took of the high heels. They looked up her beautiful shins with the youthfully soft skin. They didn't say anything. They were twice or thrice the size of her. She slipped her feet into the rubber booties.

The rubber booties were a few inches apart. Thus, she could no longer pin her skirt with her knees. She used one hand to push the skirt down her crotch. She felt her backside skirt lifting into the air. She felt the air-conditioned air floating over her back thighs and butt. Luckily, she was the only passenger and nobody was standing behind her in line. She smiled to make up her clumsiness and inexperience with zero gravity.

"What is your name?"

"Riley Hope"

"What is your job?"

"Research lab assistant."

"What is the length of your contract?"

"12 months."

"Honey Pot is a top security biological research facility. No electronics are allowed, because they could be used to transmit secrets out. No biologics are allowed, because they could contaminate the biological research. Biologics are any animal or plant substances. They include clothes made from cotton and other natural fibers. Do we have your permission to search your luggage?"

"Yes, of course."

"Now is the last time to confess any accidental violations."

"I believe that everything should be inorganic. And, there should not be any electronics."

The right cop moved for the first time to adjust the cap on his hat. The left cop leaned forward to open his side of the metal cage. He reached in. He looked at the Hello Kitty print for a moment and then smiled silently at Riley. He opened the carry on and undid the straps that kept the contents in place. The contents of her luggage floated out and formed a cloud inside of the metal cage. The left cop took out the empty luggage frame. He carefully looked for hidden compartments. Then, he handed the empty luggage shell over to his partner, who placed it into the other luggage cage.

Even the space station cube was temperature controlled at a perfect 72 degrees Fahrenheit, the place felt cold and devoid of life. The dots of planets and stars shimmering through the large windows seemed distant. The cops emotionless faces made Riley wait uncomfortably for everything to process. Her mind escaped to thoughts of meeting her parents in an hour or so. Her fantasy painted out possibilities of life on a research station and slugging long hours in research labs filled with beakers and instruments.

The cop fished a book "As I Lay Dying" by William Faulkner, a book from 1930 famous for its stream of consciousness writing. His eyes narrowed a bit at the suspicion of paper. He pulled a hand scanner out of a desk drawer. The hand scanner shined neon blue light in a straight line onto the book. The cop moved the scanner beam across the book and a few pages. The book was made entirely out of inorganic imitation paper. The book passed over to the other cop and landed in the empty carry-on.

A warm blush chased over Riley's face at the thought of the cop inspecting every luggage item, including her unmentionables. The cop took great interest in her t-shirts. He'd stretch the fabric taught, so that he could read the smart quips and drawings on the t-shirt like "Zombies hate fast food" with zombies chasing a runner. Then, he'd turn over the t-shirt to inspect the insight. The second cop would carelessly toss the t-shirt into the carry-on and pin it down with his large brawn.

Finally, only her bras and panties were floating in the metal cage as little balls with strings floating out. The cop had left the dessert for last. When Riley saw the large fatty hand harshly grabbing her tiny soft panties without care for his hand touching the white hygiene fabric on the inside, she realized that those large and strong hands may crush her pussy, if the guy would fondle her. Riley realized that those male security guards spent months alone on the space station waiting for an occasional traveler. She realized their male needs. She realized that she was the juicy young prey that would fill their minds for weeks until the next passenger would fumble through the gate.

Riley realized that probably behind a wall panel was their night cot and bathroom. It was probably filthy and ignored for weeks or months by any cleaning utensil. Nobody would make these guy clean. They might not have showered for a week. They might have cum on their hands from wanking to porn. They might have simply thrown the impressive and starched uniforms over that filth. Those eyes and hands were handling her panty, probably imagining the kind of pussy she owned. Riley moved her free arm across her breasts to keep them out of their sight. Thus, clutching her skirt and breast, she might have turned them on even more.

"Ms. Hope, we have concluded your luggage inspection. A memo this morning has raised the security level due to an anonymous tip about a suspected smuggler. You have to strip down to your underwear to proof that you are not hiding anything. Unfortunately, we do not have a female inspector."

Riley's hands were shaking. In her mind, there was no way around submitting to the Umbrella Corporation protocols. Seeing her parents and her future depended upon passing through the rigors of space travel and top security protocol. She pulled the t-shirt over her head. She pulled the skirt over her head as well to avoid stepping out of the rubber booties. The narrow width of her skirt pushed her boobs up, as she passed the skirt over her head. She stood there almost naked in her underwear in front of the meat head cops.

They told her to turn around. She obeyed. She looked out into outer space. An antenna reached from the space station out into space. She'd be happy to be out there. She could feel in her neck, the cops looking over her back and bulbous butt. They enjoyed her pretty girly underwear. They invisibly to her nodded and confirmed her inspection to be complete. They pointed her at a man hole behind the desk.

Riley took her time to deliberately dress herself. She did not want to make a mistake in the rush of her embarrassment. Her black high heels were back on her feet as her body floated again in the air. Her knees pinned her white skirt again. Her luggage was again leading the way. She pulled herself along the metal rods of the rubber booties towards the desk. Seeing under the desk, she saw that the cops were not wearing shoes. They were barefoot in their haste to get ready for her. She clawed her way across the cages on the desk to the manhole next to the cops.

The new space ship was a simple pod. A circular bench covered the round room. A round railing in the center allowed people to hold on. She snapped her seat belt tight. Gravity would soon return and she wanted to be on the right side of things instead of crashing down on the floor. The pod loosened itself from the space station. It fell straight down to the surface of Titan with little guidance.

The glass floor showed the research station. It was situated in a deep crater. In the center was a tall research tower. Two streets ran in opposite directions out from the tower. Alongside the suburban looking streets were houses with little lawns. At the end of the streets was a green half circle. Those were community parts. Beyond the little green, everything was barren yellow brown dirt desert.

A thin walking path let across the desert up the crater wall. Near the steep section of the crater, it switched back numerous times. At the top was a small low lying control station. The entire crater was filled with breathable oxygen. To avoid the heavier methane from pushing out the oxygen, meteorologist had devised a capped weather inversion. It worked kind of like swiftly turning a water bottle over. The water won't run out as long as the inversed water surface is completely even. Or, if the bottle is pierced, the water will come gushing out.

The control station's main purpose was to pierce the precariously balanced layer, where the methane and oxygen meet. It would do so in case of a biological emergency. With the oxygen and methane mixed, the tiniest spark would explode the entire crater. Thus, any bio matter would be destroyed and humanity would be safe again minus the few research scientists and whatever virus or monster that they may have created.

Due to the methane-oxygen layer, the research tower extended high above the crater into the methane layer. The space pod would not be able to operate in the oxygen bubble.