Xylan Perpetuation

Hello everyone! Sorry for the prolonged silence! I've been working on a couple of short stories that have been dominating my attention for some time now. I'm currently working on an Urban Harem Erotica I'm calling Alman's Bar. Once I finish that one, the plan is to return to Myths and Lengends: Beastkin to continue regularly uploading chapters as I write them.

For the time being, please take a gander at this recently completed supposed-to-be-a-short-story-but-it-turned-into-a-novella Sci-Fi Harem dubbed Xylan Perpetuation. I got some feed back from my one beta reader about the aliens' description being a bit long and possibly too revealing, so before I eventually publish it on the market I'll probably do some rewriting to condense it a bit. For now, though, please enjoy and tell me what you all think!

Much love,

Ghost Dream

Xylan Perpetuation

Written by

Ghost Dream

The Xylans were a proud species and one of the oldest on the council of the Galactic Alliance. As such--and being the largest of the known species with their smallest adult at three point two meters tall--they thought themselves above all other races in the known galaxy. So much so that they rarely attended the weekly meetings of the council for what they considered mundane issues brought before them for the council to address.

A typical Xylan's appearance was more diverse than one might expect. Though holding to their humanoid appearance in shape and structure, their skin displayed a vast array of hues along the known color spectrum. Their color ranged from a white so iridescently brilliant that it threatened to blind anyone attempting to look directly at them, to a darkness so enshrouded in shadow you had to look away for fear of being sucked into the void with all light around you.

Their eyes were uniform in color, slightly larger than a human's, and contrasted with their skin so vividly as to disturb even the sturdiest of races who dared to look at them. Yet, the most unsettling aspect arose from the four small pinpricks of white in a quadrilateral shape within each eye. The quadrilateral pinpoints were symmetrical and perfectly mirrored between their eyes, the only evidence of the direction of their gazes.

They had no hair to speak of, with only wispy, bony protrusions sweeping back from their proportionately-sized skulls to give the appearance of a constant wind in their faces. This singularity of their anatomy added to their fierceness in closed combat, preventing anyone from attempting a rear choke-hold. Anyone attempting such foolishness would get a face full of razor-sharp bone for their folly.

Their spines were slightly ridged and ended at the top of what could only be described as one solid, smooth butt cheek from hip to hip. Their backsides had no split in the flesh, no waste-extrusion point, yet were still bulbous and fleshy when not obscured by their natural, chitinous covering, similar to tight clothing.

A smooth tail slightly longer than their legs and as thick as their wrists protruded from the end-point of their spines with four lines equidistant apart that converged at a sharpened endpoint. The lines on their tails were not there for simple aesthetics, however. When threatened, the Xylans could extract thin, bone-like protrusions along their tails to act as a serrated chain-like whip during combat.

Their faces, while more human-like in structure, had nominal differences. For instance, their noses were flatter along the ridge, maintaining a uniform width from top to bottom. On each symmetrical corner, there were small egg-shaped holes, creating a total of four nostrils--two on the upper ridge and two on the lower.

Their mouths were almost exactly like humans, except their teeth being more iridescent in color, and all more incisor-like instead of molars. Essentially, the lower portion of their jaws below the nose was entirely human except for the unique characteristics of their teeth.

Their torsos from the neck to thighs were entirely human in shape and structure--nipples, navel, and all--except for the pronounced absence of hair anywhere on their bodies.

Their arms, all four of them (two on each side), were mostly humanoid as well, with three finger-like digits and a thumb, along with sharp, retractible claws in place of fingernails.

Their legs were humanoid from the hip to calf, and had digitigrade ankles ending in large, reptile-like feet with three large forward toes and one thick rear-facing, pointed claw.

Rather than the need for clothes, the Xylans covered themselves in what appeared to be a biological chitin. This chitin served not only to protect the vital parts of the body but preserve modesty as well as offering decoration for individuality, much the same as a human would acquire or wear distinctive clothing.

The chitin could also be removed and regrown at will, similar to a human regrowing a fingernail, though much faster. Meaning, that if said Xylan wanted to remove a piece of chitin, say to expel bodily fluids, the chitin covering that part of the body would simply fall off. The Xylan would discard the fallen chitin as if it were an item of refuse, then regrow new chitin to cover the area as fast as a human would apply covering to reclothe.

Their diet was more carrion-like, since they produced no solid waste, and they could eat just about anything consumable to stay alive. That is partially why their race is so feared in battle. They were omnivores, even cannibalistic if necessary in battle, negating the necessity of perishable resources to be delivered to their armies during the most lengthy of campaigns.

Aside from the terrifying aspect of their appearance, they were more androgynous, which made sense considering they reproduced asexually. Despite the lack of necessity, they still copulated with one another for pleasure. Unlike humans, who desire, crave even, the contact of another, not just for procreation, Xylans' copulation is more business-like in nature.

When two Xylans desire the affection of one another, they come together to discuss their base needs and expectations before committing to the act. If an agreement is made, they copulate, then go their separate ways as if a simple transaction occurred instead of a meaningful relationship formed. If no agreement can be met, they simply part ways with no regret or animosity toward the opposing party.

Since they reproduced asexually, they had no need of their outward reproductive organs except to copulate for pleasure. This being the case, their only outward reproductive organs closely resembled those of human females, though considerably smaller in size. One difference was the absence of the labia minora. Another difference of note is that the urethral opening, instead of being in the vaginal canal just below the clitoris, is housed within the clitoris, much the same as a male penis.

During copulation, the clitoris simply extends, rather than growing longer and thicker as the human penis, a mere five to seven centimeters. The vaginal opening, if it can be called such, located in the same place on the vagina as a human, is a mere flesh tube with minimal elasticity. One Xylan lays on its back with legs spread perpendicular to its body, while the other lies face down opposite the first, mimicking the one on its back. With reproductive organs pressed together, their protrusions extend, inserting into the opposite's canal.

The one face down extends its arms and wraps one arm around and below to grip the other's thighs, and the other around and above. The one face up repeats the act, gripping the other's thighs with its long fingers. So joined and locked into position, they begin to move. With no sound, no cries of pleasure, no eroticism from either party, their hips begin to gyrate upon themselves. The only evidence of pleasure comes from the increase in breath and the scraping sound of claws digging into chitinous thighs.

In mere moments the act is finished. The clitorises retract as the two relax before separating. If they are familiar with each other, words of gratitude may be spoken before parting ways. If not, a simple head nod of appreciation may be all that's necessary to convey gratitude for the mutual pleasure received.

For reproduction, their internal reproductive organs were also very similar to human females. They had an ovary, fallopian tube, uterus, and cervix attached at the rear of their vagina. Since no ejaculate came from copulation, they couldn't reproduce in such a manner. Instead, one side of the uterus had--instead of an ovary and fallopian tube--a testis, epididymis, vas deferens that connected the testis to the uterus in place of a fallopian tube, seminal vesicle, and an ejaculatory duct that would excrete the semen into the uterus for ovum insemination.

This process is entirely involuntary and begins somewhere between the Xylan's eighteenth and twenty-fifth revolution, (basically between age eighteen and twenty-five), and continues every one-hundred thirty-seven days (three Xylon months, though they do not recognize months, as such) until death. As such, Xylans do not have a menstrual cycle. The only evidence of the beginning of the reproductive process is a slight elevation of body temperature that can only be detected internally. Essentially, only the individual Xylan knows when the reproductive process begins.

When the process begins, an ovum is excreted from the ovary and makes its way down the fallopian tube to the uterus. Coinciding with this, a single sperm cell is released from the testis and begins its journey to the ejaculatory duct. Upon arrival, the sperm is surrounded by the protective semen and propelled at force into the uterus. If the ovum is already waiting in the uterus, (which is the case nearly one-hundred percent of the time), then the sperm is successfully and violently pulled into the ovum for fertilization.

On the rare occasion of unsuccessful fertilization, instead of excreting the uterine lining and discarded ovum in human females, the uterine lining collapses in upon itself, trapping the unused ovum, the dead sperm cell, and the inert semen to harden into a small crystalline substance. The small purple crystal then exits the Xylan's vaginal canal with a considerable amount of pain, equal to passing a large kidney stone in humans.

Such crystals are extremely rare and valuable to other species. Though to Xylans they are a symbol of failure and humiliation. If a Xylan produces too many of these crystals, they can even be ostracized or condemned by their family and community. In some cases, though far rarer, some have even been known to be executed for their failures to the species.

Upon a successful ovum insemination, the uterus closes itself off and the fertilized ovum begins the growth cycle. The growth cycle lasts for a short one-hundred and thirty days. Growth of this magnitude would normally inconvenience any other species, but Xylans can adapt to the changes in their bodies with relative ease. To accommodate the rapid growth, the abdomen chitin is discarded every day and regrown to adapt to the relative size.

In a similar fashion, the chest chitin is shed and regrown to accommodate the growth of the breasts as they fill with milk. Most Xylans remain flat-chested until nearing birth, at which point their bodies start producing milk, causing the breasts to expand in preparation for breastfeeding.

When the progeny is ready for birth, the process is relatively simple and painless. For the final ten days of the growth cycle, every day, the lower abdomen splits gradually until the opening is large enough for the Xylan babe to pass through. (Think cesarean section birth in humans.) Upon successful retrieval of the child, the parent collects, cuts the umbilical cord, ties it off, and ensures their new progeny is in good health. No one else is permitted to assist in this process.

A portion of the birthing fluid is mixed with a healing salve that is placed on the abdominal opening to keep it closed while it takes the ten additional days it needs to heal. During this time, another reproductive cycle begins anew.

Given the shortened time in the womb, it takes Xylans nine short [Xylan] (or six human) years to mature. That gives them nine years of maturity before they start their reproductive phase. Given that a Xylan year is 554.75 days long, a typical Xylan could have four offspring in a given year. It makes sense why they were so feared during battle. Their sheer numbers would overwhelm even the staunchest of species in a matter of days.

I say all of this as a precursor to the inevitability of their demise. The Xylans' only weakness, and their greatest one even if another presents itself, is their inability to evolve without outside influence. Their damnable pride is blinding them to the decline of their species. Their haughty vision for themselves is preventing them from benefiting from the resources available to them to prevent their downfall.

So, it came as a surprise and shock to all when the representative for Xylon stood this morning and motioned to address the Senate. The Senate committee, with hundreds of delegations and towering circular alcoves, went deathly quiet. The silence was deafening with the absence of conversations here and there throughout the hall.

The Xylan representative, known as Xyr, blindingly white with accents of pearl denoting its chitinous clothing, finally spoke. Its rich, baritone voice accented the gravity of the situation it addressed.

"Honored representatives of the Galactic Council," it began. The words seemed like ash in its mouth as it spoke. "As the timeless sands drifted through the hourglass of our existence, the proud beings of Xylon found themselves ensnared in an unexpected labyrinth. Our longevity, a beacon of distinction, transformed into a silent harbinger of destiny. Our lack of evolution, a badge of honor, now posed an unyielding challenge.

"In the mere blink of three and one-half decades, the melodies of our nursery songs grew faint, replaced by the haunting silence of a heritage in jeopardy. The venerable halls that echoed with the wisdom of centuries now reverberated with the somber footsteps of a diminishing legacy. Our scientists, stewards of knowledge and silent guardians of our pride, reluctantly unveiled a truth--total reproductive extinction cast its long shadow over our once proud domain.

"In this crossroads of antiquity, where the timeless met the ephemeral, we, the enduring ones, find ourselves compelled to address the Galactic Senate. Reluctance grips our voices, for we have long deemed ourselves the stewards of our destiny. Yet, as the echoes of extinction resonate within our sacred spaces, we swallow our pride and utter a plea. Not for salvation, but for the chance to craft our own destiny anew.

"A century and twenty years, if we count ourselves fortunate, the countdown to our possible oblivion, echoes as a haunting refrain in our plea to the Galactic Senate. May they, the stewards of a diverse cosmos, hear our silent cry and grant us the chance to shape a future yet unwritten."

Saying nothing more, Xyr sat back down. It was stoically silent, the picture of staunch determination in the face of certain extinction.

"It has begun," I whispered, my near-silent declaration seemingly a harbinger of death as it reverberated throughout the silent chamber.

~ ~ ~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~ ~ ~

Dave sat alone in his comic book/gaming store in Seattle bored out of his mind on a Tuesday afternoon. The store was usually bustling with activity, especially with it being within walking distance from the local college. However, all his regulars were in class for the next couple of hours.

He tried busying himself by cleaning, rearranging the tabletop gaming section, straightening the dice display, and even going through his meager vinyl record collection, alphabetizing it first by band name, then by album name. Deciding that was a stupid idea, he re-alphabetized it by band name and left it alone.

Sitting on his barstool behind the counter, he absently flipped through an old copy of a Spiderman comic, not really reading it so much as getting a gist of the story by the pictures alone. He had just gotten to the last page and unceremoniously tossed it on the counter when Arnold Schwarzenegger's phrase from The Terminator, "I'll be back," sounded throughout the room.

Dave shook his head. He really needed to get that door chime fixed. It was supposed to sound, "I'll be back," when somebody left, and "Greetings, Earthling," by Marvin the Martian when somebody came in.

Glancing at his new customers, Dave was taken aback by the dark suits, fake smiles, plastic hair, and all-around stereotypical "FED" attitudes before they'd even fully entered his shop. Nevertheless, he straightened up and plastered his best "Welcome" smile on his face.

"Welcome to Dave's Disasterporium," Dave greeted the men. "How can I help you, gentlemen?"

The lead man of the three pulled off his aviator sunglasses with exaggerated movie flair before speaking.

"David Yarbrough?" the man asked as he held out his hand.

"Yeah," Dave answered, unsure how the man knew his name as he hesitantly took his hand and shook it.

The last man to enter slipped the deadbolt in place and flipped the open sign to closed. Dave had always been practical with the necessities of his shop. Why pay extra on the light bill for a lighted sign when the sidewalk awning amply illuminated the storefront? Even now, only the front half of the store was lit up, with the back half where the playing tables sat shrouded in barely visible darkness.

"Hey, what's going on?" Dave asked as he backed up into the shelving behind him. "Why are you locking my door? Are you gonna kidnap me or something? Am I going to jail? I didn't do anything--"

"Relax, Mr. Yarbrough. I'm Agent Johnson with the Department of Homeland Security. These are Agents Smith and Jones," Agent Johnson said. "We just want to talk without interruptions. That's all. When we're done, we'll open the shop back up and leave."

Dave couldn't help but be suspiciously skeptical. "Johnson, Smith, and Jones, huh?" Dave asked. "You do realize how cliché and generically mysterious that sounds, don't you? I mean, why don't you have an Agent Martinez, or Ruff, or Kalikanani or something?"

Johnson chuckled. "As it just so happens, we do have an Agent Kalikanani. Nice girl. Great teeth. Tight ass. She's in Hawaii, though, so I won't get into trouble for commenting on how I wouldn't mind banging her long into the night. But that's not why we're here. The truth is, we need your help, Mr. Yarbrough."

"Dave," Dave corrected. "What do you mean, you need my help?"

"I won't beat around the bush, Dave," Johnson said.

"There's a first," Agent Jones, the one who locked the door snorted with a chuckle.

"Can it Greg," Johnson retorted. "Or I'll send you back to Alpha Nine so you can play with the bugs."

Agent Jones must have considered the threat genuine, because not only did he zip his lips, his tanned skin turned a few shades whiter.

"Alpha Nine," Dave said. "You mean like Alpha Centauri?"

"The twin suns," Johnson replied with a smile. "Alpha Nine is one of the smaller planets revolving around and between those suns. It's inhabited entirely by a bug-like species. Have you seen Starship Troopers? Like that, only humanoid, hot as fuck, but with the disposition of Praying Mantises."

Dave gulped.

"Yup, lost quite a few good people to them the first few years on planet," Johnson explained. "But again, that's not why we're here."

"So, aliens exist, huh?" Dave asked. "Gotta admit, I didn't see that one coming."

"You saw the news a few months back? Uncle Sam admitting to their existence?"

"Yeah, but I just figured it was government propaganda. Misdirection."