Procreation Pt. 01: Uruk

Bugspit lay down on the floor on her back, her knees bent. The little man at the front of the queue instantly dived on top of her and began fucking her, rapidly. She pushed his head down between her breasts. He was pretty quick; sixty seconds later he stood up, his dick elongated but flaccid like a liquorice rope; his brother impatiently shoved him aside and took his turn. All four men took their turns at her. Jonah, by this time, was at bursting point; he didn't wait for the man in front of him to stand up; he grabbed him by the waist and tried to yank him off her, but the man was held fast inside her; instead of lifting just him, he lifted them both; her hips rose off the ground. They were like Siamese twins joined at the genitalia. He releases his hold, and waited his turn, fidgeting like he needed to pee. Finally the man got up; Jonah assumed the man was going to be angry with him, but he merely trotted out of the barn.

At last Bugspit was ready for him. Jonah heedlessly pounced onto her. He slammed his dick inside her. And then - she bit it. With her womb: It felt as though a crab was pinching the base of his helmet. The crab's claw, or her cervix, or whatever it was, held his dick in place, preventing it from withdrawing; not that he was trying to. And then, along his shaft came waves, up from the base to the tip; her vaginal muscles were moving in peristalsis, an inverted oesophagus, swallowing and thrusting him even deeper inside her. The waves grew more intense and faster. He lay, impassive with his chest on pressed to her ribs, feeling her big, slow heartbeat.

Her womb relaxed its weird grip on the head of his dick. To his body this was an irrefutable and urgent 'go' signal, which he responded to instantly and unconsciously: His buttocks clenched tight, and he exploded. She held his wrists in a vice-like grip, and pulled his arms outwards, keeping his head close to her neck, and sucked at his ears with her wet lips, whispering nonsense into them.

Never in his life had he experienced such an intense orgasm. He didn't swoon; he felt instantly invigorated, like he'd been injected with a powerful stimulant. His heart raced and his cheeks burned. She patted his back with a clear "that's enough now" meaning, and laughed. The convulsion of her laugh jettisoned his dick like a bullet from a gun. He stood, too happy to even thank her. He was suddenly ravenously hungry. There was pork and figs, bread and water on the table. He had to hurry, they were all already scoffing it all.

Jonah was put to work that day, chopping firewood, mending fences, and baling straw. Evening came, and he slept soundly.

Days passed, without count. He felt as though he'd always lived there, with his little dark-skinned half-brothers. Were they slaves? If so their shackles were worn willingly. Or were they her incestuous brothers, and she both mother and grandmother to her children? The question had to him no great moment; he had stopped caring. He felt - not so much content, as resigned to his fate. But when she was near he craved her, and longed to feel the waves of her pelvic contractions about his dick, drawing him ever deeper into her soft prison.

And then one day he awoke shortly before dawn. He'd been dreaming about Captain Hussain, but the dream quickly faded. He opened his eyes and looked around. He sensed that Bugspit was not there. His mind was clear, and with it, returned his anxiety. What had happened to Diana? He lay face up, blinking and thinking about how he could escape and return to the Dildo. Could he high-tail it back to the shuttle before she caught him? And was Diana still there? Or had Captain Hussain taken control of it and taken it back up to the Dildo? And anyway did he actually want to go back there?

He sat up. Where was Bugspit anyway? He missed her. Then he became aware of his feelings and snorted derisively at himself. "You miss her B.O., not her, you stupid fuck," he said aloud.

...But Boy, he really did miss her B.O. He was hooked.

He stepped out into the cool morning air. The sky was still grey but lightening in the East with the promise of another lovely, weird day.

He heard Bugspit's distinct chattering, some way off. Her vocalizations certainly carried a long way. He turned in the direction of the sound, and saw her: she was alone; she was beckoning him over to her.

She led him behind the hut, along a pathway than ran beside the cliff. Jonah saw to his dismay that the ground on either side the pathway was littered with what looked like the bones and skulls of humans. "I'm going to be sacrificed. She's taking me to some sacred place in the hills, and she's going to kill me."

There was a turning to the side of the path which led right up to the cliff, which they took. The bones lay all about him now. There was a shallow cave in the cliff, little more than a recessed shelter. But at its back there was a well-maintained looking metal sliding door. Beside the door was a hole, about two inches wide. Bugspit put her mouth to the hole and chattered. The door slid open, silently. Jonah saw a narrow passage, receding into darkness after a few yards.

Bugspit indicated they he should enter. A lamb to slaughter. He looked at her mistrustfully. Then, to his surprise, she hugged him close to her. She clicked and twittered at him, softly. She was saying goodbye.

Then without warning he was shoved through the door, which quickly and quietly closed behind him, leaving him in utter blackness.

Cold Turkey and Truffles

Jonah called out, in vain. He started feeling around the door's edges and nearby walls for a way to open it. Then he kicked, and finally pummelled on the door before giving up. He sat down on the cold, stone floor of the passageway. He felt no fear, just a heavy sense of loss, for tall, laughing Bugspit, who had led him merrily by his obedient nose to this black prison.

Blind in the darkness, his other senses were heightened. The first thing he noticed was that the air in the passage smelled different; fresher. Gone was the indefinable scent that had permeated his nostrils since first he'd removed his helmet. And gone with it was the aroma of his semi-alien abductress. The only odour he could detect was inorganic and cool, that of damp stone. Maybe, he thought, it would enable him to handle the cold turkey. Yet now, in its sudden absence, he craved Bugspit's smell all the more. And as for poor, almost odourless Captain Hussain, mother of his child, well, she was now little more than a vague memory to him.

He groped his way along the passage, feeling its cool, featureless smooth walls with his hands, listening to the echo of his footsteps. But seeing and smelling nothing. He felt a soft breeze in his face; odourless, cool subterranean air was blowing at him from ahead.

The passage was long, and almost level, descending very slightly. After a while he stopped feeling his way along, becoming confident in his hearing to detect when he approached too near one of the walls.

He couldn't tell whether it was because of the lack of visual input causing hallucinations, but he began to see a dim red light ahead.

As he advanced, the light brightened, and he could dimly see the walls of the passage. It was curving gradually to the right: The left-hand wall was brighter; the light was coming from around the curve.

After walking a few hundred yards, the source of the light was revealed to him: The passage ended in a doorway similar to the one he'd entered. Above it was an illuminated sign, still too far away to read. He increased his pace, until he could make it out. It was in English: "SEC LEVEL 6 ONLY".

Beside the door there was another speaking hole, too high for him. He leaned against the wall and stood on tiptoe. "Hello?" he called up at the hole. His voice echoed along the passage behind him.

The door opened, and there was a sudden blaze of light. He shielded his watering eyes. The passage continued ahead of him, but was now illuminated by lamps along the ceiling. At the far end was another door. It too opened, and - Bugspit appeared, marching towards him purposefully on her long legs! His heart leapt.

But no, it wasn't her. She smelled different. This woman's scent wasn't hijacking his brain the way Bugspit's did.

But this Bugspit clone looked every bit as alluring to him. And she spoke English. Well, at least three words of it:

"You must come." She sounded like she was not a native English speaker, but more than that, Jonah couldn't guess.

Bugspit had imprinted him to her alone; no other scent could control him , because only Bugspit held the key to his will.

She turned her back to him, and marched without looking back at him. Jonah followed her out of the far door into a wide, empty room, with many arched passages leading out of it, to his right, left and ahead. The near wall had no exits, except the doorway through which they had come. Above the arches were signs; numbers and letters. They gave him no clue as to the purpose of this building, but he guessed he was in the bunker that Captain Hussain told him was somewhere hereabouts.

But he'd find a way out.

The woman led him through one of the arches, and along a maze of corridors, with many side-doors. She opened one and gestured him inside. He hesitated. "Can you tell me- "

"- You will be safe here. It is comfortable, it is the best chamber."

He entered, and she followed. The room was appointed like an old hotel suite, full of vintage furniture. The main feature was long, low sofa, with a long table in front of it bearing a bowl of fruit: He saw oranges, figs, almonds. It smelled funny, and made him feel a pang of longing for the strange air outside, and for Bugspit. The woman indicated he should sit.

He sat down on the sofa and stretched his arms out along the top and put his feet up on the table, in a parody of nonchalance.

He patted the sofa. "Join me."

"It is too low. It is made for roba. Males."

"Ok, but I'll get a neck-ache looking all the way up at you."

She knelt on the other side of the table. She picked up what looked like a muddy potato.

"If you eat this every day, you will forget."

"Forget?"

"Yes. My sister who took you, she made you her sharia. Her-"

"-slave, I know. I speak Arabic."

"Yes. When you eat this, you will become free." She held it before his nose. It was a truffle.

"Ok. Thank you."

She stood, and went through a doorway which led to the en suite bathroom. "Come in here."

He reached for an orange, sniffed it, and began to peel it. "I've seen bathrooms before. Are you doing this because you're holding out for a tip? Because I don't have any money."

"You must come."

"I must come," he muttered, and joined her in the bathroom, leaving the half-peeled orange on the table. One wall of the bathroom was a glass mirror. Glass mirrors: How retro, he thought. Or maybe this room really was ancient. He caught sight of his and the woman's reflections. She was looking at the healed gashes on his chest.

"A rat."

She nodded, and watched him in the mirror. He felt uncomfortable under her stare.

"I can smell her, Unug, my sister, under your skin. You are unclean, you have breathed her, and the air she breathes is unclean also.

So that was her name, Unug. But he still preferred 'Bugspit'.

"You must shower here, many times, until you are clean. The water has minerals from the earth, which is also good to drink."

The woman retuned to the other room, presumably to give him some privacy while he showered. He wasn't in the mood; but out of politeness, Jonah ran the faucet. Rain fell from the ceiling all along the mirrored wall, and he smelled sulphur. He turned off the water. "Thank you."

He watched his reflection pensively as he sniffed his forearm. She was right, it smelled of her. But the scent was not on him, it was in him, and it was emerging though his pores. His dick stiffened, and he shuddered. He felt his wrists, where she had held him.

"You feel her shackles You suffer." The voice from the other room was not the woman's: It was a deep husky, tenor.

He turned and looked through the doorway to the living room. There stood a tall, extraordinary-looking Woman. He recognized her immediately. He'd fucked a statue of her.

She was standing on the coffee table. No, she was standing through the table; her translucent ankles and feet were on the ground, below it: She was a holo.

She was very tall and statuesque, taller than both Bugspit and her twin. She was naked save for a wide, shimmering metallic blue belt about her narrow waist; her blue-white, almost translucent body was muscled and completely hairless, as was her scalp; her whole body was marbled with an intricate swirling lacework of pale lilac-hued capillaries making it look as though she wore a sheer, patterned body-stocking; her breasts were small and widely set on her large ribcage, which expanded and contracted slowly and very deeply as she breathed. Her nipples were blue-black and erect, like two blueberries.

The skin on her eyebrow-less face was patterned similarly to her body, with a symmetrical filigree of tiny blue-pink veins. She was obviously akin to Bugspit, but for her eyes: They were huge, intense and unblinking, showing the full circle of her iris, giving her an expression almost of acute fear - or of insane fury.

So regal and terrifying was she, that he instantly felt an urge to kneel in her presence, even though she wasn't, precisely speaking, actually present.

"Who are you? Are you real?"

The hologram replied, "I am real. Who am I? I am Inana, Queen of the Kadin, and you are in Uruk, which is this castle."

Jonah didn't think to introduce himself. He asked, "Are you - human?"

"My father was a mortal human, like you. My mother also. But I am neither human, nor mortal. I am the mother of the Kadin, who are my daughters. My sons, our males, we call roba. As the soldier Alia, she calls you: 'Jonah Robot'."

She laughed, a deep, musical laugh, but Jonah didn't find it funny.

"How do you know my name?"

"I know you, Jonah roba. And your goddess Diana, who you are sworn to protect. I have listened to you both when you spoke to each other, and to your soldier, Alia."

Jonah whistled. They hadn't thought to scramble their communication. What else did she know? "Diana. Is she still there? On the shuttle?"

"Your 'shuttle': This is what you call your spacecraft. Yes, she is still imprisoned there, but not by me, nor by my daughter Unug: It seems that Diana's own soldier, Alia, fears to set your goddess free, although it is plain she wishes it. Diana is not so powerful, it seems, as I, for My wish is a command. My daughter Unug, her man-sons stand guard around the shuttle; it is good; they protect it against the rat people. "

"I it was who called you to Me, from your sky city, which you call Artemis."

"Why am imprisoned here?"

The image of Inana laughed again.

"You are not imprisoned. You will soon appear before Me. But now you are unwell, for you have breathed poison air, and you are under the spell of Unug, My unclean daughter. She it was that imprisoned you, but I commanded her to send you to Me, to free you from her perfume of slavery, which is called Attar sharia."

He exhaled. So he was to be kept here in rehab until he was considered cured.

"Your Highness -"

"-Speak my name." He'd used the wrong form of address.

"Inana." He liked saying that name. Inana, Diana, banana. All good goddess-y names.

"Inana, Alia, her - soldier, if you let me, I can go there, to the shuttle, and try to persuade her. She is afraid. For Diana, and also for our people. We are few -" He checked himself. He shouldn't have said that. Inana picked up on it immediately.

"How many are you?"

Jonah was silent.

"Look at me, Jonah. Do not attempt to deceive me." He looked up at her, looming over him. At her eyes. Weird, huge, pulsating eyes.

She turned her head slowly, downwards, until, like searchlights, her gaze caught him. Her pupils dilated and contracted dramatically, from pinpoints to half-inch diameter jet-black wells, rhythmically with her breath, and he was transfixed. A sense of panic and terror within him battled an inexplicable feeling of placid acceptance.

"Look at Me. Look, and worship. Kneel."

"I'm not worshipping, I'm just wondering how the fuck you're doing that. What's its biological purpose? I mean I get the outsize pupils like a tarsier, and the white skin, living in the dark down here and all. But what's with the pulsating?"

He thought he was doing quite well, withstanding her by being impertinent, but he was shocked to find himself on his knees. His body had obeyed her, without him noticing.

"Good. You no longer belong to her, and will soon belong to Me ."

She smiled, and her image faded, leaving him feeling angry, drained, and inexplicably, wretched and abandoned.

He slept, and woke, slept and woke, for what felt like weeks. He showered and drank mineral water and sow's milk , and ate truffles, pork , figs and oranges. It was better than the processed fare on the Dildo, but he missed the freshly baked bread he'd had up there . He began to settle into a routine. To exercise his mind he would challenge it with math puzzles and anagrams, recite lists (the twelve largest red giants, the Kings and Queens of England, the women he'd slept with). He rarely thought about Diana and Alia, but still thought often of Bugspit.

He was doing press-ups one "morning" - that is, shortly after he'd woken up - when Inana reappeared beside him, albeit still in holographic form.

"Good morning, Banana," he said cheerfully to her feet, continuing to count his press-ups. Don't look into her eyes.

She ignored the insulting name. "It is time for you to enter the second chamber, as you are now no longer unclean."

"Thirty-four.. Great, does that mean we can meet face to face?"

"You will spend some time there, but no so long as before."

He collapsed after his fiftieth press-up. He lay on the floor, face down, watching her toes. They were long, almost like fingers.

"That's great. How many chambers are there? How many shells in this fucking Russian doll of chambers are you hiding in?"

"You will soon appear before Me. "

As before, he was led through corridors, by a tan-skinned Bugspit clone this time, and through another sealed doorway - the sign above it read "SEC LEVEL 7 ONLY" - and into a second suite. But this was very different than the last one. For one thing, it was smaller. And for another, it had a window. He gasped at the view.

He looked down from a height of about fifty feet onto a vast, cavernous hall, shaped like a squat bullet, or the inside of a beehive. It must have been five hundred feet tall. The ceiling was capped by a large, bright disk, lighting the hall like an overcast day. All around the hall's edges were circular galleries with doors and windows leading onto them.

The whole place was ornately decorated with columns, mosaics and fountains, like a mosque. Or rather, like a grand palace like the Alcazar in Seville, because there were indoor gardens with palisades covered with creeping climbing plants, and flowers in pots everywhere. The main floor space was laid with yellow, black and white mosaic to make an image of a giant sunflower, ripe with black and white striped seeds.

And every place he looked, there were people. Most were tall like Bugspit, but pale-skinned, but a few were dark like her. The men, Like those of Bugspit's little family were short. The women outnumbered them by about five to one. And there few kids, and no old people at all.

He pressed his forehead and palms against the window and stared. Behind him, he heard the swish of the door closing, but he ignored it.