Y
5
Take away a man’s long held profession, and he feels awkward and ill at ease with his surroundings. He doesn’t know what to do with himself or how to fill the hours of the day. He takes long walks and tries to think about nothing. Take away a man’s home, these feelings become only worse. The man has nowhere to go, nowhere to return. He feels alienated from society. He feels cast off, less than a man.
Take away friends, family, possessions, and, finally, one’s freedom, the man is adrift. He wakes up in the middle of the night feeling like he is falling. This sensation persists throughout the rest of the day.
The man has no anchor in his life. He has no center. Nothing feels right anymore. He becomes unsure even of his own identity.
Lord Reuben zee Elshwa felt all this and more, for added to the sum of his losses was his humanity.
The Epsilonians had taken away his humanity. He was no longer a human being. He was . . he was . . he wasn’t sure what he was!
The Betan aristocrat raised his hands and stared at the palms. He flexed his powerful new fingers. He clenched his hands into fists, squeezing them as tightly as he could. He drew his elbows back and watched the thick muscles in his forearms bulge. The thick red muscles in his forearms bulge.
“What am I?” Reuben asked himself, and once again he was amazed at the deep, masculine tone. Unable to restrain himself, Reuben stood and compulsively examined his radically transformed body. He had done so perhaps a hundred times since awakening that morning.
His penis was the most obvious change, and the first to be examined, every time he did this. He was still amazed and impressed with himself. He was bigger. Much bigger. Much much bigger! Even taking his new height into account, which he guessed topped two meters, the aristocrat was now extremely well-hung. Cherishing his male member tenderly, with a never-before feeling of pristine pride, he estimated that he was at least twenty-five centimeters or more in length, nearly twice his original size even fully engorged!
He was twice as big in girth alone. “I’m a horse,” he said to himself, astonished, and laughed.
He breathed heavily, feeling his massive new chest swell with air. Reuben ran his hands along the bottom of his stomach. His belly was flat for the first time in his memory. It was hard, too, like a metal plate. His hands worked steadily upwards. His fingers brushed over the hard firmness of his chest.
There wasn’t a centimeter of flab on him. He was tight all over. And heavily muscled.
If it wasn’t for the strange new color he had assumed, Lord Reuben would have felt like a god. As it was, he was clearly more suggestive of the opposite.
His skin was bright red. The crimson shade varied from place to place in those areas they would vary—nipples, fingernails, the tip of his cock, and so on—but overall he was as red as a sign post. He wished he had a mirror. He had everything else in this strange suite he had awakened in, but not a way to see himself, and that was sheer torture. He had been transformed from head to toe, in every way.
It killed him not being able to see his own face.
All he knew was that he was both taller and heavier. He felt like he could crush rocks in his hands. Impulsively, Reuben looked around his suite and spotted the wooden throne of a chair that served at his table. It was a big and solid thing. It had to weigh at least eighty kilograms. He stalked over and effortlessly lifted it over his head. He held the chair for several long moments without strain.
Amazing, he thought. If he had tried that in his old body, he would have . . . well, he would not have been able to do it, that was the thing. He put the chair down heavily on the stone floor.
His guards outside the entrance to his chambers peeked their heads in to see what was going on. Hours earlier, Reuben had tried to leave. These two red men had raised their weapons and prevented him.
“You must stay here, offworlder,” one of them said.
“Am I a prisoner?” Reuben had asked harshly, surprising himself with the hostility in his voice. He had felt uncharacteristically confrontational. The guards were as big as he was, and as red. It was from their appearance that Reuben gauged his own. He had clearly been transformed in their likeness. The main differences were that they were clothed, in kilts, while he was naked. They were armed, too, with curving sharp pole-mounted swords, it looked like, and could have cut him in half if they had wanted.
And despite all that, he had provoked them. He had got right in their faces in fact. “Who’s in charge here!? I demand to see who’s in charge!”
A part of him had really wanted to start a fight. Astounding, and a little frightening in the retrospect.
“You must stay here,” they repeated. Reuben had stood there for a second, then backed down and returned to his rooms. He had been feeling uncharacteristically aggressive, but he wasn’t stupid. Only later had the aristocrat realized that he had spoken, and been spoken to, not in his native Centauran but in some new language which he now understood.
The guards looked around briefly at the noise and returned to their posts.
Reuben laughed and held his arms out in front of him. His heavy musculature had gone unstrained. He wasn’t even breathing hard. He posed like a marathon runner. He felt so hard. He felt so incredibly fit.
The touch of his own skin reminded Reuben of touching marble. He looked down and saw that his erection was complete now and gigantic. He had never felt so supremely masculine in his life. He wished his wife could see him.
He wondered offhandedly where the Lady Alyce was and whether she was still alive. Had she been transformed too, like him?
Reuben had lost track of his wife during the attack on the Centauri Independence. The starship had been rocking back and forth wildly, the lights were going off, and when he had grabbed for a crisis pod, his wife disappeared on him. It said much about their relationship that he hadn’t given thought one to go looking for her. Indeed, Reuben remembered thinking that if Alyce ended up getting killed through her own carelessness, that would be one less thing for him to have to worry about. Putting a rebreather over his face, Reuben had just hightailed it for the nearest shuttle.
He didn’t know who was attacking them or why, but he was sure someone would make room for him on an escape vessel. He was a member of the Beta Assembly, after all, and that body’s official representative to the inhabitants of the Flowerworld. He was too important to die.
Reuben had been making his way down a tumbling ship’s corridor when a great silver mass crashed through the ceiling in front of him. The syrupy invader came down in a massive cascade, spilling over everything in sight. Then the shiny metal had flowed toward him like lava. It bubbled, too, like lava.
Reuben had shrieked and tried to back away, but the liquid mass followed him. It proved it could move more quickly than he could. Before he could yell again, he was enveloped. The silver fluid wasn’t hot at all, he found, as it appeared. Instead, it was cold, ice cold, as cold as space.
He remembered a moment of suffocating pain in his chest, and then everything had gone dark.
When Reuben woke up, he was in a bed, on a planet, presumably still in the Epsilon Indi system, yet he was as red as a beet and built like the idealized statue of a classic hero. The differences couldn’t have been more striking. Before, the Lord Reuben zee Elshwa had been a typical nobleman of Beta II: dark, aquiline, and slightly overweight, as was the custom of his class because they didn’t work and frankly didn’t see a need to. His initial disorientation had almost brought him to tears, but then the aristocrat had felt his enormous new penis quiver, and Reuben’s fascination with the new him had taken over. That was hours ago. Feeling much better now, the aristocrat stalked over to his suite’s only window. Whenever he moved about now, he imagined the earth shook with each one of his footfalls.
The aristocrat gazed outside his window. He looked up at the cloudy yellowish-white sky. The air felt chill, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Quite the contrary. Reuben felt curiously at home. He wondered if all the Epsilonians looked as he did. He wondered why they had changed him.
Why is this happening? he questioned. He took a deep breath and enjoyed the way the clean, crisp Epsilonian air felt in his lungs. He gradually became aware that he was hungry, ravenously so, and he was wondering if he should talk to his warders when he heard a sound behind him. He turned sharply.
A small yet buxom red-skinned Epsilonian female posed in the doorway. She wore only a brief and revealing costume. In her hands she carried a folded set of towels and a leather kilt. She bowed her head.
“I am Soha, master, if it pleases you,” she said humbly. “I am your bathslave. I have been sent to see to your pleasure and prepare you.” She came forward a step and then went to her knees and lowered her head. “Use me as you will, master.”
Reuben’s mouth dropped open. His erection once more became prominent. His balls tensed. The female slave kept her face directed down, but she did glance up briefly with her eyes. She cooed in evident delight as her gaze encountered Reuben’s package. He took a few hesitant steps toward her.
“Stand up,” he said. She did.
“Who are you?” he asked. They stood within a few paces of each other.
“My name is Soha, if it pleases master,” she repeated, smiling seductively up at him. She was only half Reuben’s new size. “I am your bathslave this afternoon, sent by my owner to see to your pleasure.”
She said it with perfect equanimity. She was a slave. She was offering herself for his sexual use. She took a step closer to Reuben and lifted her enormous and naked bust. Only a thin leather set of straps supported her. About her waist was only a ruffle of black leather.
“Please, master. How may I serve you?” There was a naked look in her eyes, an expression amplified by her actual near nakedness. She was clearly, blatantly a woman in heat, in a state of utter arousal.
Reuben found that he could actually smell her arousal. It was a heavy musk. It made his mammoth Epsilonian penis throb even harder.
She was beautiful. She was almost maddeningly desirable. Her skin was a lighter shade of red than his own, but the complexion was perfect and ripe. Reuben’s eyes trailed over her body. Her breasts were large and full, gigantic. They were rounded flawlessly, with large and prominent nipples that were visibly hardening in his presence. Her figure was an hourglass. Her waist was narrow and exquisite, flat and soft, leading his eyes inexorably unto a wet and lovely slit, pulsating with ardor and heat. The curve of her thighs was superb. Her legs were long and curved; her feet were bare and petite. Reuben went down with his gaze, then up again, taking in everything. Her face was well defined, the features soft and feminine. Her lips, painted a striking shade of violet, were what he spent the most time looking at. They were lovely lips, moist lips, and Reuben felt an almost overwhelming desire to kiss her, to take that perfect mouth upon his own and rape those lips and make this woman his own. His desire was so strong it was dizzying. He had to let his hands drop to his sides in order to regain his balance and composure. The slavegirl’s eyes were amber and full of desire, the lashes long, lovely, and distinct.
Her hair was midnight black and trailed over the sleek lines of her shoulders to the small of her well-formed back. She was beautiful, and in addition to her physical beauty was the blatant appetite in her gaze, the arousal apparent in every breath she took.
She wanted him even more than he wanted her, if that was possible. Her desire for him increased Reuben’s desire for her exponentially.
A sudden rush of confidence filled the aristocrat. Before he was fully aware that he was doing so, he had put his hands on the sleek red woman’s hips and lifted her to his face. She wrapped her hands about his head, and they kissed, deeply, fervently. Their lips joined; their tongues locked in fervor. She yielded to his contact completely, surrendering herself to Reuben without reservation. At that moment, the aristocrat knew—he knew—that this girl was his. She was totally, utterly his own.
Where before his passion for her was strong, now it was epic . . . awe-inspiring.
Her feminine surrender emphasized his masculine power to a degree he hadn’t previously thought possible. The power he felt was intoxicating. Her mouth caressed him. Her tongue lapped at him.
Sinuously, she curled down the length of Reuben’s body, lingering over his nipples, pressing her face against the solid rock of his chest and abdomen. Reuben reached out with one massive hand and gripped the slavegirl by the back of her head. His hand dug into the soft layers of her hair, and with casual force he pressed her face to his groin, rubbing her mouth with his dick. The girl responded eagerly. She bobbed her head between Lord Reuben’s legs. At the same time, her much smaller hands reached round the aristocrat’s body and caressed his buttocks.
Tilting her head at the correct angle, the slavegirl began licking Reuben’s huge scrotum, sliding her tongue along that wrinkled pouch and coating it with a thick layer of her saliva. Then, pressing her lips directly to the sac, she gently sucked him, darting her tongue back and forth as she bent down between the noble’s thighs, working up to take as much of him in her mouth as she could. The sensation was delightful. It was already the best oral sex Reuben Elshwa had ever received. Waves of bliss and pure erotic contentment spread out through his body from where the girl worked. With lengthy, enchanting caresses from her tongue, the slave brought the aristocrat to the edge of a titanic climax. She played with him, drawing her face up front again and running her lips along the massive length of his penis, kissing him. As she had coated his scrotum with love, so now she did the same to his shaft.
The blood was roaring in Reuben’s ears. He had never had it so good. Finally, the girl let go of his ass and took a firm hold of his organ. She was able to wrap both hands completely around him. Balancing herself in front of him, glancing up at Reuben’s face and giving him a wicked smile, she opened her mouth and cradled the tip of Reuben’s penis just inside her lips, licking her tongue along his crown. It was a lovely sensation. She kept him from ejaculating too soon with her firm grip at his base.
She drew the pleasure out, savoring the taste of his precoital fluids. He could tell she was enjoying herself from the purring sounds of gratification she made as she took bigger and bigger gulps of him, steadily working her way closer and closer to his body.
By this time Reuben had both hands on the girl’s head. She stood between his legs, barely needing to lower her head to get to the delicious parts. Reuben tilted his own head back and moaned in delight.
Finally, he could take no more. The girl, an expert in cock-sucking technique apparently, knew this in advance. She released her hold on the base of his stalk just as the first uncontrollable spasm overtook him. Semen gushed, and she was there open-mouthed to swallow. She drank from Reuben’s fountain eagerly, licking at every stray drop.
The aristocrat fell backwards onto the steps leading to his window. The girl climbed atop him for a moment before getting back up to her hands and knees. She continued to suck him as Reuben tremored and finally climaxed. She leaned back on her heels at length, still licking at Reuben’s cum.
An odd thing occurred.
Not that anything that had happened to him of late was ordinary, but this was noticeably odd even for the strange circumstances in which the Betan aristocrat found himself. The girl’s yellowish eyes took on a dazed look. Her head tilted loosely first to one side, then the other, as if she were about to faint.
Egotistically, the first thought that went through Reuben’s head was, I fucked her into a stupor, and he chuckled. But that wasn’t it. The girl, he could see clearly, had slipped into some kind of trance. She looked hypnotized. The way she tilted her head at him made it clear that something more was expected from him, but he didn’t know what. So, Reuben just caressed his little Soha again, marveling at the velvety smooth feel of her thighs and legs.
“Master,” the girl finally whispered. Her eyes cleared somewhat and focused. She gave a whimper.
“I burn, Master. I need you.” Suddenly, fervently, she clasped at him. One moment she was calm and tranquil, the next passionate and wild again. And, to his surprise, Reuben felt himself hardening again.
“Use me, master!” Soha desperately begged, climbing on top. “Please! I need your cock inside me.”
Whatever it was he had been turned into, the Betan nobleman liked it. He felt his desire for the slave return with vigor. She had said when she came in that she was his “bathslave.” In one of his adjoining rooms, there was a sunken bath, an immense thing that all but filled the entire chamber.
“Let’s take a bath,” Reuben said. The slavegirl nodded her head vigorously at the suggestion.
Despite her evident need, she did all the work. The slavegirl led the aristocrat to the huge tub, dropping the miniscule amount of clothing she still had on along the way. The interior of the bath was as smooth as glass. The water-temperature controls were designed in filigreed gold, the only fancy design in the otherwise austere surroundings. As the water filled, and as he sat and watched Soha’s sleek body flex as she adjusted knobs and added salts, Reuben couldn’t help but notice that, like the walls and ceiling, the bath’s edges joined seamlessly with the overall substance of the apartment. Everything was as one piece, as if the whole apartment had been carved out of a single, huge alabaster block. The same could have been said of the flat-topped pyramidal buildings he had seen earlier outside his window. Each structure looked as if it had been cast from a single gigantic mold in shades of blue, green, or white.
Within minutes the bath was filled, the water hot and pleasant.
Skin tingling with sensation, Reuben could wait no longer. He pulled the slavegirl into the water with him, drawing her on top of him as she spread her legs. She straddled him face-to-face. His hands found her soft breasts and squeezed, eliciting soft sounds of satisfaction from the red slut. She was so soft and yet so firm at the same time. His hands were enormous in the comparison; he could slip his fingers completely around her dangling flesh to squeeze and massage. Her arms reached around Reuben’s neck. She buried her face onto his face and neck, kissing energetically. Reuben let his hands wander at will along her wet and hot body. He stroked the smooth length of her back. He cupped her pretty asscheeks. He felt her legs as she crawled further atop him, spreading herself wider and grinding onto his burgeoning shaft. She pressed their bellies together, trapping his penis between them. The slick, warm wetness combined with the intense friction almost caused him to erupt then and there.
She pumped her hips upon his. Her kisses became even more passionate.
Taking hold of her thin waist, Reuben partially lifted the slavegirl and resettled her on his penis. He slipped up into her, and she screamed.
“OH! Oh Master! I love you, Master! Your cock! Oh, your cock!! Oh, Oh! OHH!!”
The thickness of him was embraced by her soft, warm insides. Their hips joined. Somehow, despite his gigantic length, her body opened wide to accommodate him. Her pussy must be a cavern, Reuben thought and giggled. Yet she was tight, marvelously tight completely around him, and squeezed her body about his. She craned her head back, emitting inarticulate sounds of pleasure. Reuben bucked wildly and then erupted once more. The force of his ejaculation actually seemed to lift the slavegirl off of him, like a laser launcher. And then they were both panting hotly in the water.
It happened again, afterwards. The same thing as last time. After she climaxed, the girl slipped into a trance. Perplexed, Reuben did nothing. He watched her as the girl whispered softly to herself, plaintively. “I am a slave. I was born to be a slave. I was born to please men.”
Her voice was distant, dreamlike, and, again, highly suggestive of a deep hypnotic state. On her side, she suddenly gazed up at Reuben with painful intensity. “Please, master. Please!”
“What more do you want?” the Betan asked her, honestly questioning. He had never had better sex before ever. He had never performed better. What more could this slut want from him? Yet she rather desperately wanted—needed—something. She practically clawed at his broad, bodybuilder chest.
“Please, Master!”
Reuben didn’t know what to do with her.
“You should sway your slaves after use,” a voice spoke behind him, a masculine voice, and the Betan flipped over on his stomach beside Soha. One of his two guards from outside was standing there, a bemused expression on his face. For a moment, Reuben wanted to excuse himself, to apologize for what he had done. Then that pathetic need to justify himself before another male disappeared.
He was strong, not weak. He felt like he need never apologize again, for anything.
“What?” he said, belligerently.
“You should sway your slaves after use,” Reuben’s guard repeated. “Unless your intent is to kindle her for another, or your rein on her is firm and you deliberately seek to impose discipline.” He stepped forward and grabbed the slave by the arm, pulling her wetly to her feet beside him.
She clutched at him. “Please, kind master. Please. I am in such dire need I can barely stand it!”
Reuben got out, put a hand to the bath stand nearest him, and moved toward it. He defensively put the small table between him and the formidable appearing Epsilonian. “I don’t understand,” he said.
“You will learn.” The Epsilonian turned from Reuben. He took the girl’s face in one huge hand.
“Be calm, slave. Obey me.”
She whimpered. “Yes . . yes, master.” She shuddered all over. Her nipples were again tight. The musk of her arousal was stronger than ever. She bit her pretty lips in her obvious sexual anguish.
“What are you?” he asked.
“A slave, master. I am a slave.” Just by saying the words, she sounded calmer.
“Yes,” the Epsilonian said, agreeing with her. “And for what were you born?”
“I was born to be a slave, master. I was born to please men, master.”
“And?”
“I . . I want to please men, my master.” She said this last part with an air of dawning realization, as if she had just remembered an important lesson taught to her by a beloved instructor.
“You please me, slave,” the Epsilonian very firmly said, and Soha gasped in sudden relief. A lot of the tension in her face—not all of it, but a significant part—slipped away. She at least stopped shaking.
“There now. That’s better, yes?” She nodded in almost pathetic appreciation. “I shall use you later,” the Epsilonian guard went on, in a tone that sounded kind. “I shall quench your flames tonight.”
The girl looked up at him gratefully.
“Thank you, master.” She took a step closer, stood on her tiptoes, and pushed her wet, naked tits to the man’s chest. Her hands pressed against him. “I shall bring you great pleasure,” she whispered.
“Leave us.” He slapped her lightly on the rump. With an overwrought trill she scurried out of the room.
The guard watched her pretty ass until she was out of sight, then turned slowly to Reuben. “If you are done with your bath, offworlder, the Rexus would like to speak to you now.”
Reuben dried himself and put on the leather kilt. He found a pair of sandals with thongs that were meant to be tied up and around his lower legs. Humiliatingly, the guard had to show Reuben how to do it.
He was escorted out of his suite and through the castle. Support columns poured meltingly from the ceiling to merge with the floor. If it hadn’t been for the occasional window, Reuben would have felt sure that he was somewhere underground. There wasn’t a joint or seam to be seen. Eventually, they came to another room, also seemingly carved out of the same gigantic piece of white stone. It was as if the Epsilonians had taken a small mountain and stamped a castle from it. The door, wooden, was hinged and swung open, like in a Hereditarian documentary.
An Epsilonian male was waiting on the other side of the door. He was taller than even the guards and the transformed Reuben, and more broadly built. Unlike the others, he wore a blue sleeveless tunic over his upper body, with a gold thread girding his waist and the top of his kilt, also blue. His arms were massive and encircled with gold bands. Another gold band, a circlet, ran around his brow. He was unarmed, but the guards paid him obvious respect and deference.
When he saw Reuben, the Epsilonian smiled and crossed to greet him.
“Lord Reuben zee Elshwa,” this man said slowly, tasting the words as he spoke them. The language he said them in was Centauran. The next few he uttered in his own tongue. “I offer my greetings.”
Reuben thought at first the man wanted simply to shake hands. Instead, the well-dressed Epsilonian took the Betan by the lower arm in a lengthy embrace that instinctively told Reuben that he should do the same. The Epsilonian’s grip was firm. They held each other for a long moment before letting go.
“I am Baor Korez,” the man said. “I am the Rexus of this citadel. You are my guest here.”
He smiled and laughed.
“You look hungry,” he said. He guided Reuben to a table by the elbow. “And confused.”
“I . . I guess I am, uh, Rexus?” Reuben followed him, remembering suddenly his appetite. Korez waved him to a thick wooden chair. The table was laden with a variety of produce and cooked meats.
“Sit. Eat. I prepared every item myself.” He nodded to the two guards who had accompanied Reuben. They left. Korez sat down himself at the head of the table and poured a large drink from the jug there into a metal goblet. He put the jug down next to Reuben.
“Fill your mug,” he declared grandly. “Enjoy yourself.” He himself drank heavily.
Reuben drank. The green liquid was as thick as beer and several times as potent. It was so good the aristocrat took an even deeper swig. The alcohol left a feeling in his throat that was cool and a sensation in his stomach that was divinely warm. His host refilled his mug, then took a knife from the table—Reuben tensed—and began carving off chunky slices of bread from the huge loaf between them.
“‘Rexus’ is a title here,” the Epsilonian, Korez, said. “It means ‘leader,’ and I am a leader of men in this city-state.” He drank, then smiled at Reuben through foamy lips. “I understand that on your world, you are a hereditary noble. You were born with your rank and your title. Is that so?”
Reuben frowned. “Yes. I am the Lord of Elshwa Island on Beta II. How did you know?”
“I have a source . . lord, is it?” Reuben nodded. “On my world, all positions of authority are earned either through skill, merit, or the force of arms. Often, they are one and the same here.” There was a copious amount of food. Meat, cooked vegetables, more kinds of bread. It all tasted good. The Epsilonian chewed and drank. “Do you consider yourself a warrior, Lord Elshwa?”
“I am a . . . coordinator of men,” Reuben said. “Though I have had some military experience.”
This experience was a purchased rank in a reserve company of the Free Centauri Army during the Solarian Occupation, a reserve company that had never met and existed mainly in a theoretical capacity. Only a handful of Betan nobles had actually fought the Solarians during the most recent conflict. Among them, most notably, was the Sovereign’s own former betrothed, the Baroness Alexandra zee Panara. The baroness had disappeared before The Flags of Centauri Independence left on its mission, under undisclosed and troubling circumstances.
“Good,” Korez said. “Then we have something in common.” He took another deep swill, then slammed his empty mug onto the table and purposefully put the huge flagon out of his arm’s reach.
“Rexus . . sir,” Reuben began, wiping his mouth of froth. He stopped. How does one even start to complain about having been transformed into a new order of being? About the loss of one’s very humanity? Did he even want to complain? His new body felt wonderful, and the sex, by his God! the sex was fantastic! The Epsilonian must have read the expression on the aristocrat’s face.
He chuckled. He took hold of Reuben’s hand good-naturedly.
“I assure you, lord, I had nothing to do with your transformation. Truly, I did not. Yet I will you tell everything you want to know, if you will do me the courtesy of answering a few of my questions first.”
Reuben licked his lips, which abruptly felt dry even after their indulgence.
“What do you want to know?”
Keeping his hand on top of Reuben’s, Korez stared across the table at his guest. “The simple things, first. For instance . . . why exactly did you come to my world, Lord Elshwa?”