A Space Oddity

"The appeal for help came from the ruling body's secretary and she will meet you somewhere outside the city walls to smuggle you in. Em said it's a difficult mission and it's possible you may not return but you always seem to triumph when the odds are stacked against you. One day you'll have to tell me how you escaped from being dangled over the pool of starving piranhas.

"Right, Agent Lightener, if you wouldn't mind leaving us, I have some 'Ears Only' instructions for Double Oooh Eleven."

Felice left the room and I looked expectantly at Kew. "What special instructions?"

"This!" She thrust a small canister at my face and sprayed. The room spun and it was if I was wrapped in black velvet...

I woke up stretched out on an operating table in Kew's laboratory. Kew was standing there gazing down at me. I could have sworn there was a triumphant look on her face but it disappeared when she saw I was awake. Maybe I imagined it. I sat up slowly but felt no ill-effects. "What the hell did you do to me?"

"A mild anaesthetic, nothing harmful. I had to perform a minor operation and knowing how averse you are to operations, I resorted to sly tactics."

"A minor operation? What sort of bloody minor operation?" Damned right I was averse to Kew's operations. She's a surgical psychopath. I wouldn't put it past the crazy bitch to have sewn my pussy up.

"Nothing to worry about. I performed a minor adjustment to your lungs." Kew seemed to expect some praise but when I just waited for an explanation she continued: "The atmosphere on Femina has a far higher oxygen content than Earth, about thirty-five per cent as compared with our twenty per cent, so the operation was necessary to enable you to breathe comfortably."

So the minor operation was for my benefit. Well, as long as she'd done nothing to my pussy that was all right...

* * * * *

We returned to our apartment to prepare for action stations. In fact, there wasn't a lot to do. All equipment, changes of clothing and so on were already stored aboard our spaceship. All we really needed to do was ensure that our weapons were in good order and Felice volunteered to do this. She loved playing with guns, must have been something in her childhood. So there was nothing for me to do but sit and think strategy. Sadly strategy got short shrift. I couldn't stop mulling over Em's promise to get me a blind date with Ginger Rojerd.

Ginger Rojerd, eh? The Queen of the Touchy-Feelies. Probably the most desirable lesbian erotoporn star ever. It was rumoured that she could crack walnuts with her pussy. Men were forbidden by law to watch her Feelies. Too many had suffered cardiac arrests watching her and we couldn't afford to lose so many menials even though they're mostly useless. Domestic help was difficult to get at the best of times. Why do we need men I might hear you ask? Because none but the very richest can afford even an E-class robot. But I digress. So, Ginger Rojerd—I nearly came at the mere thought of her near me and I could feel my pussy twitching and drooling... then my daydream was abruptly shattered...

"Oh J-a-i-m-i-e!"

Oops! When Felice speaks to me like that, especially with a false sweet smile on her face, it's time for the tough to get going... out of the nearest door. If Felice has a fault, it's that she can be a teensy bit jealous. All right, very bloody jealous. I love her to bits but it's not my fault other women find me devastatingly attractive and often in the line of duty I have to... well, I'll leave that to your imagination.

"Oh J-a-i-m-i-e!"

I turned to face her. "Yes, darling?"

"Em doesn't realise how good my hearing is—I heard what she whispered to you. Thinking of Ginger Rojerd were you, J-a-i-m-i-e?

"Who, me?"

Here it was, the false sweet smile. "Don't even think about it, Jaimie Pond. If that woman lays so much as one finger on you, I will break it off at the elbow, famous erotostar or not.

"And if you lay one finger on her..." Suddenly Felice's pistol was in her hand, being twirled round by the trigger-guard. On a mission, Felice's speed on the draw is more than welcome. In peaceful situations...? I gulped. Felice favours a Smith & Wesson .789 Laserblaster, the most powerful handgun in the Solar System—it could blow your boobs right off. And she tended to be a bit careless about applying the safety-catch.

Time to use my secret weapon, the way I always handle Felice when she questions my intentions or fidelity. She never fails to fall for it, never cottons on to my cunning ploy. I widen my eyes in horrified disbelief, let my bottom lip quiver and inject a slight note of hurt into my voice. "Darling, how could you think so little of me as to distrust me?" Sometimes I'd reinforce this by giving a little sob. Cue: "Oh, Jaimie, I'm so sorry for doubting you!" Hugs and kisses. Crisis over.

It's love, Jim...

So as I said, I was reclining on a Megacomf sex-sofa in the latest Aston Martin interstellar jump craft. We were already in very deep space, tens of light years from anywhere worth landing on, and there were a few hours to go before our first hyperspace jump. And faithful Felice was kneeling between my legs giving me very expert cunnilingus. Well, it helped to pass the time.

Centuries ago this trip would have taken thousands of years rather than the current matter of days. And all thanks to the genius of the late Professor Ludicross Sechs, inventor of the Sechs Drive. This intellectual giant had found a way to overcome existing laws of physics and developed a faster-than-light system together with mapping all the hyperspace jump co-ordinates. Instant messaging across the star systems worked on the same principle. Every schoolchild today can quote from the professor's famous speech to the Nobel Prize committee, printed in all text-books: "Newtonian physics? Pah! to Newtonian physics! Einsteinian physics? Bah! to Einsteinian physics. Ve are now in the vorld of Sechsy physics und don't none of you morons forget it!"

However, even geniuses have flaws. In Professor Sechs's case he was so miserly that when developing his drive system he found a way to do it on the cheap. This meant that in time every crook and con-artist in the Galaxy was able to afford interstellar travel and so create mayhem. Hence our mission.

I'll give Em this—our craft was the last word in luxury and there was little for us to do, everything being controlled by the latest Alpha-plus robot in the Sweary series. Why Sweary? You'll see. When the first Alpha-plus positronic brain was designed there was some kind of hiccup in the programming which no-one has ever been able to pinpoint and repair. While the Sweary series of robots are brilliant, they are... odd...

We had only been in flight for a couple of hours when Felice nudged me and pointed to the Megacomf sex-sofa. This was another little bonus. Like robots, Megacomf products can only be afforded by the seriously wealthy. The sex-sofa was made from a mood-sensitive material which could wrap and embrace you, its soft silkiness caressing your bodies as you made love, enhancing feelings and generally making you want to shout: "Yippee!"

"I love you, sexy spy," Felice said.

"And I love you, adorable agent," I replied.

"So let's get to it!" we chorused. I'm not sure which of us was naked and bouncing on the sex-sofa first but it was a close run thing.

"Go ahead with your disgusting sexual shenanigans if you must," complained a smooth voice, "Don't mind me, I haven't got any feelings—oh no, I'm only a fucking robot."

We ignored him. Alpha-pluses were notorious for being great moaners—they meant nothing by it, it was just to do with that system blip in their programming. Two hands reached out to slip between two pairs of legs and we rubbed each other gently until juices started to flow. I do love the feel of another woman's come on my fingers and then cleaning my hand off with my tongue.

Felice swept me into her arms, hugging me to her boobs. She popped a dark-pink nipple into my mouth and held me fast to her, one hand on the back of my neck. I loved sucking her nipples and she loved me sucking them. They always made me think of raspberries with cream in the summertime and with a bit of avid licking and sucking they grew to about the same size.

My lover smothered my face with kisses while her fingers found their way to my inviting pussy, revelling in my wetness. I emitted little cries as she nibbled her way down my body to end up between my legs, sliding her tongue into my cleft. I twined my fingers in her hair and rubbed myself against her face. And all the time, the sex-sofa was moulding itself to our bodies causing undreamed-of sensations in our love-making.

I turned to put us in a sixty-nine position and thoroughly explored Felice's inner lips and vagina, moving tantalisingly from spot to spot but carefully avoiding her clit until she began to plead with me. It wasn't one-sided, she was giving me similar treatment. I smothered her tiny pearl with delicate kisses until suddenly she exploded with a little scream of pleasure. Felice's probing fingers found my g-spot as her tongue laved my clit and then I was also crying out with pleasure.

"Thank fuck that's over with," said Sweary.

* * * * *

We were approaching the first of our two hyperspace jumps. I checked the co-ordinates monitor. "Everything ready for the jump, Sweary?" I asked the robot.

"Bet your fucking pussy, Jaimie Pond," the cultured metallic voice assured me. The mathematics of hyperspace jumps must be precise to the second which is why sensible people leave the calculations to the robots. A second out either way and you might find yourself thousands of years in the past or the future or, as Sweary might put it, up shit creek without a paddle.

"Almost time," I told Felice.

We went to our side-by-side acceleration pads, covered them with thick towels, donned heavy-duty diapers and then strapped ourselves down. We reached across the gap between the pads to hold hands. Why all this rigmarole? you may be wondering.

Well, a hyperspace jump affects different people in different ways. Some just pass out for the duration while others jerk and twitch and dribble and drool like broken androids. Then there are those who come out in big red blotches and itch like fury all over, leaving them in need of a bucket of calamine lotion. The really sad cases suffer hallucinations (which for some unknown reason usually take the form of gigantic hairy spiders the size of horses—very unpleasant while the effects last, I've been told).

And there are the few, the very lucky few, who have the most incredible prolonged orgasms. Felice and I are both among the fortunate ones. Normally, neither of us are squirters but during a hyperspace jump... Holy shit! Everything around us appears to dissolve into a beautiful rosy-pink haze and together we howl with ecstasy and spray a deluge of thick, slippery come. Hence the diapers and towels, they save us one hell of a cleaning up job afterwards. The hand-holding just makes the orgasms more intense, each of us experiencing a sensation of having two pussies exploding in unison. Leaves us feeling all weak and shaky at the knees for some time afterwards but boy! it's worth it. It's probably a good thing that jumps take place only every two or three days otherwise we'd die of exhaustion.

Mission Him: Possible

I'll give Sweary this, he's a brilliant pilot. Our rendezvous valley was narrow and fairly deep but he took us in safely and landed so well that we didn't even feel a jolt on touchdown. If robots could have emotions, then Sweary would have swelled with pride. "Beat that, you bastards!" he said.

"Did you have the operation?" I asked Felice.

"What operation's that?"

I explained about the difference in atmospheric oxygen levels and the minor lung adjustment to enable us to cope.

Felice looked puzzled. "No, I wasn't told about that or given an operation."

"That's odd," I said, "Guess that you'd better stay here with Sweary then, take care of the ship." I wasn't particularly happy with this idea nor was Felice but I didn't want to risk her out there where the air might harm her. I slipped my pistol into my forearm holster (the gun reacts to the tensing of my muscles), kissed Felice goodbye and stepped out of the airlock and into the warm Feminan night where two moons shone brightly in the sky. The air was fragrant with the perfume of night-scented flowers, varieties of nocturnal birds hooted and whistled and insects chittered and rustled in the undergrowth.

I took in a good lungful of air and it tasted great after several days of our spaceship's artificial atmosphere. A shame that Felice couldn't share it with me. And then an odd thought occurred; if my lungs had been adjusted to cope with a higher oxygen level, then how come I hadn't noticed aboard ship where it was presumably Earth standard? In theory I should have been gasping for air on board. I shrugged. Oh well, there was probably some clever scientific explanation that I couldn't work out. I set off in the direction of The City.

I'd probably gone about a mile when a figure unexpectedly jumped out at me from behind a heavy expanse of bushes. My pistol leapt into my hand and a frantic voice said: "Don't shoot! It's me, Madam Secretary!"

By the Great Black Hole! The silly woman had come within a whisker of being turned into a human fireball. My weapon snapped back into its holster as I heaved a sigh of relief. "Don't do that, Madam Secretary!" I hissed, "That's a damned good way to end up in the next life before you've finished with this one."

"Sorry," she muttered, "Are you the Earth agent I'm expecting?"

I shook my head in disbelief. The woman really didn't have an idea about security. "If I wasn't, you'd be in real trouble," I told her.

"Oh... it's just that we Feminitas haven't much experience of this sort of thing. Anyway, are you the Earth agent I'm expecting?"

I could imagine what Sweary would say in this situation but I bottled it up. "Yes, I'm the Earth agent you're expecting. Name's Pond, Jaimie Pond."

"Jaimie Pond!" Her voice sounded thrilled. "Wow! Earth's sent the very best. All our troubles are over!"

We'll see about that. "Let's get going," I said. Even by the dappled moonlight it was difficult to see what my guide was like. She wore a heavy capacious cloak and the valley was filled with dark shadows.

After about another ten minutes of walking, taking care to avoid tree roots and trailing vines and hollows in the ground, Madam Secretary threw up a hand to stop me. "We take this small path here," she whispered, "Cross the road to The City's wall and enter by a small postern gate. The main gate is always manned by pirates but the small gate is clear. I don't think they know about it."

Talk about false optimism. I got a better look at my guide once we were out in the open. Late middle-aged, she was small and slim but with a strong jaw and a look of great determination on her face. We crossed the road quickly and made our way to the small gate about two hundred yards along the way. The coast seemed to be clear and we slipped quietly through the gate. We were only about ten or twelve yards into The City when a bank of floodlights burst into life, abruptly divulging our presence. The lighting also revealed the four armoured pirates surrounding us, their laser-rifles pointed at our heads.

"What the fu—"

"Game's over, spy, and you've lost," I was informed. I was quickly relieved of my pistol. "Don't want any nasty accidents," said the man who'd seized it.

"But how—"

"Information received," said one pirate smugly, "You've been betrayed, spy, or may I address you as Jaimie Pond?"

I turned to Madam Secretary. "You did this!" I hissed.

"It wasn't me!" she protested.

"Dunno who it was but it wasn't her," confirmed one of our captors. "Anyway, ladies, perhaps you'll kindly step this way to the nice cells we've prepared for yer."

"You're very polite for pirates," I couldn't help observing.

The one I assumed to be leader of the group spoke up. "Well, it's like this, see, Miss. Doctor Yes commanded that you be treated gently and with respect. And when Doctor Yes commands, we obey. Unpleasant things happen to people what ignore 'is commands."

"Yerss... 'sright..." said another, "Only unpleasant ain't quite the word..." He shook his helmeted head sadly. "Poor Alfred... dunno what we're goin' to tell 'is dear old mum..."

We were led through a series of wide, clean streets until we reached what seemed to be The City's largest and most imposing building. "The Grand Hall," Madam Secretary whispered. Through a set of huge double doors, down a flight of steps and along a couple of corridors and we were ushered into separate cells. I suppose you could say I'd achieved part of my mission—I'd got into Doctor Yes's lair, just not in the way I'd hoped for.

As for my cell... Well, I've been in worse places and situations. Mine was more like the cheapest room in a down-market lodging house. At least it had a bed of sorts and a rickety wooden chair. I did notice, though, that the door was very sturdy and fitted with several stout bolts on the outside. "Shouldn't be for long," the main pirate told me, "Hour or two mebbe... Just got to report to Hizzonner then wait till he wants to see yer."

I took off my boots, stretched out on the bed, hoping that it didn't contain too many nasties, and wondered how I'd get out of this one. I had always managed to escape the bad guys, usually leaving their fortresses/castles/mansions/bolt holes [take your pick] a blazing inferno. Not to worry, something always turned up. The villain who could defeat Jaimie Pond was yet to be written about. That was the optimistic angel sitting on my right shoulder. The pessimistic one sitting on my left shoulder kept saying Maybe Doctor Yes will be your nemesis.

So engrossed was I with my thoughts that it took a while for the gentle chiming noise coming from my boots to register. Chiming! From my special secret agent's boots! That meant some kind of message coming through. I wrenched off the heels and slotted them together. The heelless boots also fitted together and the heels (now a sold block) connected to them to form a receiver. I pressed the starter and a hologram slowly appeared.

Oh hell! It was Kew!

"Ah, my dear Double Oooh Eleven. As you are watching this, I take it that Doctor Yes and his pirates have you safely under lock and key. My master plan is working. I'm the one who notified the pirates of your arrival on Femina. You were so gullible, Pond. There's nothing wrong with the Feminan air and I haven't tampered with your lungs. No, much more interesting. Hah, hah!

"That operation involved planting a tiny, low fall-out cobalt bomb in your lady's garden. Your pussy is primed. [I said the mad bitch would do something to my pussy.] It's said that Doctor Yes can't get enough women to satisfy his warped and excessive desires and very soon he will turn his attention to you. I appreciate that you don't care for men that way but it won't be for long. The bomb is my special design and can only be detonated by male semen. A dozen hefty thrusts from Doctor Yes and... Kablooie! you and Yes and the whole pirate fleet, a mushroom cloud! Oh, half The City and some Feminitas will probably go with you but that's for the greater good. I've waited so long for this. You'll not destroy any more of my brilliant inventions, you cursed vandal. And then the lovely Felice will be mine. Hah, hah,hah! My sole regret is that even when you're reduced to atoms, you'll still be polluting something.