Celebrity Space CampbyPeIvis Wesley©
Celebrity Space Camp I: The Ties That Bynes
For the life of me, I cannot remember the last time I went about my day without a nutritious breakfast in my stomach. It seemed sacrilegious—downright criminal perhaps—but on June 19th, 2006, I had very good reason to skip out on the most important meal of the day. By orders of Senior Aeronautical Commandeer Henry S. Blankslate, all junior cadets attending the inaugural meeting of Birmingham's famed Summer Space Camp were to refrain from eating 24 hours prior to the session. So it was with nervous step and a slight gurgle in my gullet that I set foot outside my hotel room en route to my very first simulated skylarking journey.
Now don't get me wrong—I am no junior. At 22, I've been meaning to attend space camp for several years but have had to defer participation at the urging of my mother, who was convinced that space travel was an elaborate hoax and that Neil Armstrong was nothing more than a glorified stuntman. To keep her nerves at ease, I concocted a fib that placed me in an internship with FEMA to assist with the Katrina cleanup effort, cynically figuring that she'd favor my membership in an underfunded government program to one that was overfunded.
"Attention junior cadets: please form two lines, by gender, so that we can record your physical specifications with expediency," a loud voice commanded over an intercom. Boys started filing in toward the right, so I clumsily shuffled over to the male line, feeling a bit faint from hunger and heat. After about ten minutes, I finally reached the front of the line.
"Space Camper Handle?" the young woman requested, her baby blue eyes cast down at a mountain of paperwork. She appeared to be in her early twenties as well, so I began to feel a bit embarrassed being there.
"You want my real name?" I responded, hoping that that's what she meant by "handle."
"All Junior Cadets are identified by a fantasy moniker," the woman said, tapping her pen on her clipboard in annoyance. "Would you like me to assign you one at random from our galactic name bank?"
"Is Eclipso taken?" I inquired, trying to peak at the names on her list.
"You shall be known as StarSire," she stated, marking a checkbox on the name bank, her eyes still trained on her papers. "Can I have your measurements?"
"Five-eight... one hundred fifty pounds... size eleven shoe."
The woman gave me an incredulous glance.
"Size nine shoe," I corrected myself, compounding to my humiliation as the woman pulled out another sheet of names.
"Would you like to be paired with a male or female cadet?" she asked, scribbling StarSire on a blank name sticker.
"Female," I answered, my heart rate quickening at the thought. There was an awkward silence for a moment as the woman seemed hurried and burdened by her administrative tasks. I noticed her shuffling back to my incomplete physical specifications sheet.
"Measurements?" the woman questioned again, seemingly getting her voluminous paperwork under control.
"5-8, 150, size 9 shoe..."
"No, her measurements," she shot back with impatience, underlining the empty slot on her sheet where the female cadet's requested specifications were to go.
"Oh..." I began, collecting my thoughts with the discretion of not coming off like a chauvinistic pig. "Ah... five-six... one hundred...fifth-teen pounds... Um... you're gonna have to help me with the ladies shoe size."
"That's adequate," the woman assured me, inputting my information and matching it with her female cadet profile sheet. "You will be teamed with Lorca."
"Thanks," I answered as the woman slapped a name sticker on my chest, her head tilting to the side to get me out of her viewpoint.
I was then led into a waiting room, which consisted of a yellow folding chair, some austere furnishings and a framed picture of Buzz Aldrin just to the left of the door. As I sat in there, twiddling my sweaty thumbs, I noticed a catalogue sitting on the floor. I picked it up and looked at the inside cover: "Celebrities Attending" it said, and I began to wonder if Lorca was a celebrity. Turning the pages, I was disappointed to see that all of the names were male. I was about to close the catalogue when I saw one lone female name... just as the door opened.
"Greetings StarSire. My name is Lorca," the girl said, and to my utter astonishment it was none other than Amanda Bynes, holding a tinted helmet to the side of her white padded space suit. She had straight brown hair with faded blond highlights, eyes open wide and lips glossed thickly. "We're going to be partners today."
"Amanda freakin' Bynes!" I exclaimed, getting out of my chair to shake her hand. "Please... call me Lorca," she responded firmly, keeping a considerable distance as she shook my hand. "Let's stick to protocol while we're junior cadets."
"My apologies," I said, correcting my posture so that I was standing straight up. "What is first on our agenda?"
"Unfortunately, Commandeer Blankslate informed me that the Centripetal Accelerator is out of commission, so we're skipping ahead to the Virtual Shuttle Simulator," Amanda answered, handing me a key. "You'll need to put on proper attire. This key will open locker # 308 in the men's dressing quarters. Report to the loading dock in 20 minutes. I hope you fasted for this occasion as per Commandeer Blankslate's orders.
"You bet your sweet..." I started, catching myself mid sentence, "...Raison Bran."
"Super! See you then!" Amanda exclaimed, retreating out the door.
Once I suited up, I met Amanda at the loading dock, where she was talking with Blankslate. Both were wearing wireless speaking devices.
"Here, StarSire, put this on," Blankslate said, tossing me a speaking device. "Use this to communicate with the control tower."
I examined the device in confusion, delaying my admission of technological ineptitude in hopes that I'd stumble upon the proper way to use it. After a few seconds, Amanda's arms snaked over my shoulders, her fingers untangling knots in the wiring as my hands relaxed to my side. Her warmth somehow managed to emanate from her thickly layered spacesuit, cutting down the capacity of my deep breaths as she fitted the device to my head.
"Nervous?" Amanda asked, sensing my unease.
"Actually," I began, stumbling to conceal my intimidation over female bodily contact. "My mom thinks space exploration is a big lie."
"Well then," Amanda began, relinquishing her hold on me as she approached the entryway to the shuttle. "If your mom is right, you have nothing to be scared of."
"Space camp is all about the unrelenting pursuit of truth," said Blankslate, taking my shoulder and guiding me toward the entryway. "Go make your mother proud."
Inside the shuttle were hundreds of different buttons and dials, none of which I knew how to operate. Amanda took her seat at the pilot post, grabbing hold of the controls. "Don't be bashful, StarSire."
I got strapped in to my chair as Amanda began to take instructions from Blankslate.
"Back Hatch Rutter Pressure Valve," said Blankslate blankly.
"Normal," Amanda responded, pressing some buttons.
"Master Fuel Gauge," Blankslate said.
"Full Capacity," responded Amanda, "You take the next one, StarSire."
"Umm," I began, fearing the worst.
"Fun," said Blankslate, Amanda looking at me in anticipation.
"To be had," I answered.
"You're getting the hang of this," Amanda said cheerfully, pulling a large joystick back into the 'Launch' setting. "Ready for lift off."
"Space Shuttle Veracity set for take off in T-minus 10, 9, 8,..."
Even though I realized this was a simulation, I began to feel extremely anxious, my quivering hand pinned to the armrest by Amanda's reassuring grip. "We'll get through this together."
After 1, the shuttle began to vibrate violently, the noise of burning fuel drowning out both sound and sight as I felt a realistic lifting sensation. The lights flickered as the skin of my face was pulled back into my skull, the G-Force starting to overwhelm me. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see bluish smoke billowing from one of the panels as many of the dials turned to dangerous "red" settings, Amanda betraying a worried expression. I tried talking to Blankslate through my headset, but the signal was cutting off.
"Revert.....Manual.... PANIC!" spouted Blankslate through my earpiece, and within seconds, the signal was cutoff completely. All of the sudden, the shaking subsided and most of the dials returned to their normal settings. Once the brunt of the commotion died down, Amanda left her post, attempting to adjust the thermostat.
"The thermostat's broken!" Amanda shouted, removing her helmet to wipe clear some of the steam clouding the viewing panel. "We're gonna bake like Johnny cakes in here!"
"God, I'm starving," I said, her pastry remark awaking my empty stomach. "These space shuttles equipped with microwaves?"
"This heat is unbearable!" Amanda exclaimed as she began to unzip her spacesuit. The zipper traveled all the way down to the small of her back, revealing Amanda to be wearing a damp black sports bra and, stepping out of the pants, a thin pair of black lace panties. It took her a few moments to realize who was witnessing this display. "Oh gosh! Where is my mind?" "I know where it ain't," I answered, scanning her lightly tanned, wonderfully toned body up and down, settling my sights on her smooth, heaving stomach. "Sweet Lorca."
"Aren't you burning up in there?" Amanda asked, fanning herself as sweat trickled down her neck, slipping between her two bountiful breasts.
"More than you know," I responded, removing my attire quickly in my burst of sensual excitement. I was wearing a white undershirt and a pair of black boxer shorts with green snake patterns on them. Amanda's mouth slowly opened, as her fingers traced the path of the bead of sweat that had slid down her bosom.
"I think we can reconfigure the circuits of the engine fan to give us some air," Amanda noted, approaching a panel of dials. "The display panels are covered with steam—I can't read anything."
Watching her firm butt move up and down as she approached the panel ignited the reptile behind my shorts, which began to peak out from the elastic waistband. Noticing Amanda turning around, I quickly made an about face to conceal my stiffening sidewinder, accidentally poking the emergency hatch deployment button in the process. In a matter of seconds, a huge suction of air pulled its way toward the hatch, claiming all our remaining garments before I was able to disable the control.
"My underwear!" Amanda yelled out, her breasts bobbing as her arms scurried to cover her vagina from view. I caught a quick glimpse of its triangular trim, which pointed to a spongy pair of pink lips. As for myself, I was completely in the buff as well, my penis hardening by the second.
"At ease, StarSire," Amanda joked, removing her hands to reveal all her feminine glory. "I think we're going to be holed up in here for a while."
"I can think of a better place to hole up," I said, wrapping my right hand around my throbbing comet, starring intently at her moist pussy, which she had begun to manipulate with her index and middle left fingers. "If you'll just allow me..."
The pixilated stars aligned at our lustful embrace. Amanda slowly sank to her knees, her eyes fixed on mine as she lowered her chin atop the tip of my dipper. Feeling the soft palette of Amanda's tongue capping my tapper, I snickered at the recollection of averted eyes belonging to the young woman who took my physical specifications earlier that day. The slight tremor that overcame my body in laughter made Amanda cough, momentarily interrupting the slurpfest.
"Easy there, Lorca," I said, moving my hands through her disheveled mane. "Save some room for my moonpie."
Amanda spat me out, pulling on my sides so that I was kneeling down next to her. She seated herself on the floor with her legs arched and spread out, her plentiful packet of tang waiting to be sipped.
"Return the favor, enjoy the flavor, StarSire," Amanda said, massaging her breasts in mindless ecstasy. "I'll let you call me Amanda if you make me squirt."
"Hold it, bitch," I started, taking her left foot and licking her sweet toes. "That would be breaking protocol, wouldn't it?"
"I'm going to proto call you a pussy if you don't start sucking on mine," Amanda stated firmly, pulling her knee back and letting her dripping toes dry in the air.
With that bit of provocation, I began to attend to her celebrity coy pond, tasting the prickly pubes north of her natal nook before setting my sail downstream. Each swipe of the tongue was met with a tense contraction of her vaginal walls, seeping with juices sweeter than the nectar prized by the busy honeybee.
"Ooh, you're totally hitting the spot," Amanda moaned, reaching for and failing to find something to grab hold of. "Your oral orbit is a godsend."
Tugging on her lips with my teeth, I turned to my side as Amanda crawled over to my meaty meteor to resume her cock gobbling. With muffled murmurs of pleasure, we dually treated ourselves to each others' genital delights. We had assumed the classic "69" position, the number bringing to mind the lunar landing made famous by the world's most renowned glorified stuntman.
"That's one small snatch for man...one giant cock for womankind," I proclaimed, rubbing my thumb on her pussy like it was silver dust on a scratch and win card with nothing but cherries underneath.
"Ground Control! Ground Control!" Amanda panted, sloppily kissing my soggy sack. "Permission to plant old glory into my moon crater."
"I'm on it," I replied, rolling onto my back as Amanda adjusted herself on top of my flagstaff. She proceeded to thrust herself up and down my turgid rod, though I squirmed with discomfort at the hardness of the floor. "Let's do it on the pilot chair."
Holding her in my arms, we reconvened on the leather seat only to have our grinding stymied by the combination of a slick floor surface and the instability of the wheeled chair. Amanda started to get anxious.
"Can't seem to get comfortable here," she observed, sitting motionless on top of me, kissing my ear lobes as her firm tits pressed against my chest.
"I've got an idea," I stated, glancing at the control panel before us. "Let's make this an authentic lunar voyage."
Noticing a button marked "Space Gravity" on the panel, I prepared myself for free float as Amanda made bird-like pecks at my stiff nipples. With one swift motion, we felt ourselves weightless in the recirculated erotic air. Prodding my aeronautical appendage into her great divide, we continued our coitus, accentuating each thrust with a complete summersault in mid-air. Amanda clung tightly to my back as her breaths grew progressively deeper.
"MMMmmmm... I feel like a feather," Amanda said, digging her nails into my ass cheeks, her head pointed to the ground below. "Ooohhh Goddd... FUCK ME, YANKEE DOODLE!!!"
Amanda began to Sally Ride my sautéed sputnik like the Benedict Arnold I knew she was. Her song continued...
"AAHHHH—Yankee Doodle keep it uppPP!!!"
"OHH YEAA, I'm keeping it up all right," I moaned, cupping her supple breasts with my sweaty hands as my dick tickled the back of her Union Jack.
"OOOHH SHHHIITTTTT—" Amanda yelled, twisting her hips like she was vanilla and chocolate swirl being dispensed on my sundae. "I'm just a FUCKING FEATHER, AREN'T I??"
"FFUCCCCKKK YEEAAHH!!!" I yelled back, her creamy hip action melting under the heat of my pelvic thrusts.
"I'm just another feather in your fucking cap, AREN'T I-- YANKEE DOODLE DANDY??" Amanda shouted, quickening the pace of her equestrian love trot.
"AAAAAHHH YEAAAA!!!" I moaned, taking deeper and deeper thrusts into her ravaged pussy. "CALL IT MACARONI!!!!"
"MACARONI!!!" she screamed, shivering at the brink of orgasm as my cock engorged her every last square inch.
"AHHHHH GOOODDD DAMNNNnnnnNNNN!!" I cried out, the rush building pressure at my cock's horizon. "CAALLL IT MACARONI!!!! AHHH!!!! SAAYY IT LIKKE YOU MEAAN ITT!!!! AAAGHHHH!!!!! CAALLL IT MACARRONI, YOUU FUCKINNGG FEATTHEERR WHORRE!!!"
"MAAAAACAAAARRONNNIII MAAAAAKKEEE MEEE CUUMMMM!!!!! UGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!"
At that moment, we achieved euphoric bliss as our genital fluids intermingled in the battered love bath between our loins. Slowing down my hump action, I noticed globs of white cum floating in the gravity-free environment like we'd just copulated in a life-size lava lamp. I kicked my foot toward the control panel to shut off the "Space Gravity" button and we then slowly descended back to the ground. Amanda's relaxed posture and satiated expression suggested I need not call her Lorca anymore.
"You're lucky the food capsules they feed us here fry my ovaries," Amanda said, swooping for the falling semen and smearing the goo across her tits.
"I could go for a burrito right about now," I said, my dormant stomach starting to gargle once again. Before Amanda could respond, we heard a struggle from outside our door. It appeared as though Commandeer Blankslate had figured out what was wrong with the simulator and was attempting to open the hatchet door. Reluctant to escape my sexual haze, I reached for my space suit as Amanda gathered the remainder of her clothes. Zipping myself up, I felt a pronounced vibration coming from my side pocket. As Amanda approached the door to let ourselves out, I reached down to discover that I was receiving a phone call on my cell. Looking at the LCD screen, the text read: MOM
"Sweatheart! This is your mother!"
"Oh, hey mom," I said, my eyes growing wide upon seeing a strange figure standing outside our shuttle door. "How are things?"
"Just lovely," she said while Amanda motioned for me to come out. "How's the internship going?"
As I set foot outside the shuttle to greet the slimy green creature that had rapped its tentacles against the door to our space craft, I remembered the fib I had told my mother and smiled.
"I tell ya, ma, it feels more like summer camp to me," I said, dismissing theories of an elaborate hoax as I bowed down to my new alien overlord.