Read: Amy Rose

Amy started writing sci-fi when she wrote Star Trek fan fiction as a kid. Since then things have just gotten dirtier. She is glad to use her Physics & Astronomy degree for something at least. Right now she lives in Ulsan, Korea and teaches English. In her spare time you can find her writing in a coffee shop or trying to be funny in bars.

(Photo: Julian Stout)


Simulara

No matter what position we started in we always ended up in missionary. Like two sweaty puzzle pieces, nothing in the world fit better. She was always warmer than me, radiating heat and her sweet smell like an oven full of apple pies. I dived my face into her neck, biting and licking, sloppier than I wanted to be but it didn't matter, she moaned deeper spurring me on.

Her hands had been on my ass, but she moved them into my hair and tugged, distracting me. I had become all too concerned at its gradual thinning, I was finding more and more of it in my drain. Annoyed at the reminder I paused mid-stroke and grabbed both of her arms at the wrist to bring them above her head.

She made a sound somewhere between a moan and a laugh and started moving her hips beneath me. Unwrapping her legs from mine she planted her feet and lifted me up slightly before gyrating to the left and right. I was much heavier than her but her thighs were powerful and I let her continue her dance, ignoring the urge to drive into her again.

Her moaning stopped but her dance did not. I shifted to look at her face. Closed eyes, brow bunched, sweat in candlelight; utter perfection. My lips found hers and I breathed in her used air, all thoughts ceasing. I was a worshipper in religious ecstasy.

I felt her try to slip her arms out of my grasp and so I tightened and pulled them closer. She resisted me, so I ended her gentle dance with a swift thrust. She turned her face from mine with a throaty groan and I knew she was close. I set into the rhythm I knew she needed and focused on lasting. Her arms continued their fight against me, and I could barely handle it. I heard myself grunting and I didn't care if she came or not. She shouldn't fight me, she knew what it did to me. Lucky for her I felt the tightness of her climax seconds before mine.

I let her hands free then and she touched my face. They were cold from lack of blood, maybe I had been too rough, but when she looked at me she smiled. That perfect smile...


"You OK, Henry?" despair and annoyance fill the space of confusion as I am ripped from my daydream.

"You've been staring at that DB photo for a hot minute, I was starting to get worried," but his partner's face didn't look worried, he was smiling stupidly. He walked around my desk to stand behind me, looking at the photo. I put it back in the file, annoyance turning to anger as it always did when John opened his mouth.

"She's quite a looker, but she's a dead robot, you know? Not judging!" he laughed at that and I despised him even more.

"Kind of looks like Lara, yah?"

How dare he mention her, I thought.

"How is she? I haven't seen her for a while..."

I stood up and walked away from him, in utter awe that he could forget that Lara was dead. If a woman wasn't naked in front of him they were immediately forgotten.

The door to the bullpen closed behind me dampening the noise of the detectives, most of them hardly working. John Vern, his imbecile partner, was surprisingly one of the most effective of the new generation of homicide detectives. Often he would stumble across connections, solving cases with what sometimes seemed like dumb luck.

The door opened behind me letting the sound echo down the hallway and I knew it was detective Vern before he spoke.

"Hey, I actually had an update on that case for you," I turned to him, glad he had forgotten about Lara again. He was pointing to the file in my hand, and I realize I was unaware I'd taken it with me.

My brain feels muddled and I turn and start to walk away.

"I need coffee," I say quietly. A pressure behind my eyes clouds my vision and I rub my forehead trying to clear it.

Nothing about this case had been simple. It had been months since we had been assigned it and there were no leads. It wasn't technically a homicide, the mimeos weren't human, but after the fifth body was found the case was transferred. All but one of their faces had been violently disfigured before they were killed pointing to a derangement which might eventually target real women.

The most recent one, the one with the face, looked like Lara. That's when the headaches started.

"Turns out all the mimeo girls were printed in the same place," he said excitedly. He follows me when I turn down the hallway toward the front entrance and away from the kitchen.

"The new nerd upstairs with the big tits said they all have a unique radiation signature. I guess she went to every mimeo shop in the city to scan for it and couldn't find it. Can you imagine that, man? Her in a mimeo shop?" he laughs at himself.

I let the door close behind me and I hear it hit him.

"Oh hey," he said. "I don't have my wallet, will you get me one too?" He doesn't wait for my answer before continuing with his update.

The way John pilotted the cruiser through the belt had left me nauseous and I regretted allowing him to fly. I insisted we split up in search of the unlicensed mimeo shop at Vesta station, I couldn't stand another minute of his constant talking.

After scanning every other asteroid station in the belt for the radiation signature we were glad to find that Vesta, the last on the list, was a perfect match. It seemed the least likely option for trading such a high-end product. Mimeos of the victim's quality were incredibly expensive and Vesta station was a cesspool filled with drug addicts and cheap VR sex clubs.

The station was much different from the other stations in the belt. Vesta wasn't planned; after the mining operation was abandoned the disgruntled miners started building themselves a home. When the mining company came back for their equipment they got shot at instead.

I turned down the first path leading away from the main concourse. The large space was disorienting, gravity panels on the floor and ceiling gave the impression that you were walking under a large mirror. Instead of a reflection though, it was another crowd, far too close for comfort. Things caught in the precarious spot between the two gravity plates hung and spun above your head like garbage decorations and then they sometimes fell unexpectedly.

This smaller path was crowded, but the ceiling was a ceiling and I felt the nausea start to fade. I shuffled slowly along with the crowd and tried not to be annoyed when a small woman stopped in front of me at a stall selling a root that looked like a fistful of shit.

"How many times will you solve this case?" the male voice came from behind me and when I tried to turn to look a hand grabbed my shoulder preventing me.

"Keep walking," the voice said. The hand on my shoulder was clean, even under the nails, which was odd at a place like Vesta.

He led me quickly through the crowd, which was even more odd as they seemed to part for us, clearing a path that was immediately filled again. We turned right twice and then left up a much emptier path which curved steeply upwards. My San Francisco legs expected to work harder at the angle but the gravity plates had no orientation and no extra work was needed. I tried desperately to remember the radar map of the station I saw from the cruiser. I must be near the center now, but that was no more than a rough guess.

There was a food smell down the corridor we were in now, something that reminded me of sugar cookies and the sudden wave of deja vu filled me again with the nausea that I thought I'd left at the main concourse.

I had been here before, of that I was certain and I became more certain when he directed me behind the stall making the food and through a curtain hung behind it.

There was no light here but in my eyes were white spots, the sudden migraine was worsening and I felt myself lean into the figure behind me.

"There, there," the voice said, oddly maternal. "You're almost here and I'll fix you right up."

From the sounds I guessed we were in a lift of some sort and when I became suddenly weightless the arms circled me, holding me like a sleeping child. When I felt gravity again it was from one of the walls and I felt the man holding me step onto it.

What had been the ceiling opened up then, filling the small space with a painfully brilliant white light and I felt vomit rise into my throat.

The man carried me effortlessly in full gravity and when my eyes adjusted I found we were in a very bright and white laboratory. A woman wearing a laboratory coat and a white VR helmet sat near a console and an exam chair covered with tech I somehow recognized.

I was set down gently and the man walked away from me. He was large, which I already knew, but he was an imposing figure in a black trench coat with contrasting platinum blonde hair. When he reached the wall he turned and crossed his arms, glanced at me quickly with piercing blue eyes and then closed them.

The woman took off the VR helmet and set it on the console, turning to me with a smile.

"Welcome back," she said. "You don't look so good, you should sit down."

"Who are you?" I asked, voice rough. It hurt to talk and standing didn't seem possible for much longer.

"It's easier if you just sit down and remember for yourself. The pain will stop." She turned to the console, pressing buttons.

I complied, if only just to sit down.

Her shoulder length grey hair was out of order giving her a crazed look. She adjusted something above my head and I saw she was older than I initially thought.

"Memories are like branches, they grow and grow and we can cut them. Only, I can sew them back together," she said, smiling wide. She was beautiful, but looked mad and for the first time in Vesta I was afraid.  

There was a beep and a low whir starting from behind me. I closed my eyes as the pain began to cease and I was back in bed with Lara, her breasts covered in sweat. But it wasn't Lara, none of them were Lara and I had killed them all. I had smashed their faces with my own hands, angry they weren't her.

Then something new crept in, like cold in a basement. Regret and anger, and I knew I killed her too. She was leaving me. Her mouth was still moving, but I couldn't hear her... and in the seconds it took her to fall to the bottom of the stairs I stared at my hands willing them to un-shove her.

I felt my body convulsing in the chair in deep sobs, a hole deep in my chest remembered again.

"There, there," I heard the woman say.

She called her works the memory mimeos. Her name was Anne and I knew her from an unsolved case years back. Hundreds of missing persons on Vesta, I found them with her. They were her practice. She paid me to close the case and I taught her how to take more without notice.

I picked Lara up from the base of the stairs and carried her, barely alive, to the cruiser. Anne said it might not work and it hadn't. Even with all of her memories, none of them were Lara. Something in the eyes was missing, something in the smile.


The Race

The three moons on my course computer remind me of her tits and I'm back in her bed again at Satsport Station. She doesn't have the garish blue skin that most females of her race do; it's pale, like her eyes. I miss kissing her nipples. The middle one is the most sensitive, she would close her eyes when I started to nibble and make that sound I like so much, "ooooh-ahhh".

ERR ERR ERR ERR

The collision avoidance alarm blares and I adjust my erection and my trajectory around the small asteroid. The last leg of the Moon Whip Race is no time to think about Luda. Even if she is fucking fucking Reinald now. Smug French bastard with his stupid fucking mustache.

At least there's no chance he can win the race now.

"Time, Humf?" I yell back at my robotic co-pilot.

"You're beating the record by 2.46 seconds, sir." he responds.

I smile and wonder if she'll remember my promise to buy her the nicest house boat on New Orion with my winnings and leave Mr. Frenchy pants.

Her eyes looked so sad though when she met me at the loading bay yesterday. When I tried to hug her she backed away.

I should've taken her with me to get the new regulator. With the time dilation I had been gone three months; for me it only seemed like one. She said she was lonely when I was gone and wanted to hang out with my friends at the human bar. I had explained so many times before that I wasn't friends with every human... especially not fucking Reinald.  

"Sir-rr-rr," ...Humfs voice processor is still modulating...  I remember punching him in the throat with a twinge of guilt.

"Yes, Humf," I answer, vowing to fix him and give him a raise. I'm lucky he hasn't reported me to the robot ethics board. Maybe he realizes how annoying he can be.

"Vinak's ship is breaking from the usual course. I predict he is going to attempt a low-altitude gravity assist at the third moon which could bring him right behind us in 14 minutes."

Luda couldn't love him that much, could she? If I win and break the record she's certain to run to me when my hatch opens at the finish... Three breasts wobbling in unison with her dark purple curls...  She will wrap her arms around my neck and I'll grab her fat blue ass and taste the strange yet arousing flavor of her mouth again.

I pull back on the thrusters and prepare for a course change. Humf starts to protest but stops himself. I wonder if he's afraid I'll punch him again?

What I plan to do has not been done before, I think... Maybe it has and it failed. Frankly, I don't care anymore. I'm going to whip around the second moon. Most people whip the first, swing close to the second and then circle the third before heading back.

Whipping the second is a risk, especially after already whipping the first, but I feel like doing it. The speed from the low-altitude maneuver could possibly put me at the finish a full minute before the record, but the friction could also burn off the outer hull leaving me and Humf as floating space garbage.

I make a quick calculation and veer toward the largest and most volatile of the moons. The storms circling the moon flash with lightning causing a blue-green glow and I think of Luda's pussy. It was shocking at first to see such a bright green inside, and now all I want is to bury my face in her sticky depths.

I can hear Humf's cranial servomotors whirring behind me, likely calculating the probability of our imminent death. I double check everything, hoping the steep trajectory is free of the highest pressure storms. I feel momentary regret at my rash decision, my ship isn't going to look pretty after the barrage of diamonds it's about to get in that first cloud.

Maybe some of them will get lodged in my hull and I can give them to her. Make them into a crown; a fitting gift for my indigo queen.

The ship starts to vibrate as we reach the outer atmosphere and that's when Humf decides to pipe in.

"I calculate you will lose consciousness in four minutes with a possibility of brain damage," I get the feeling he doesn't care that I might die, and that part of his processing power is being used to update his resume.

"Drive for me when I do?" I turn and look at his golden face.

"Obviously, sir," he responds, without looking at me, and I feel the urge to punch him again.

The next four minutes are full of bright flashes of green and blue, a sound that reminds me of the hailstorms back home in Oklahoma, an increasing pressure behind my eyeballs and then darkness.

I come to slowly, the console lights leave trails in my vision and I'm not sure on the exact details of what I'm doing except that I am desperate to know if I've won.

"Time, Humf..." I slur, unable to move or keep my eyes open.

"If we make it to the finish you've beaten the record by one minute forty-seven."

I don't like the sound of that 'if', but I am elated. One minute forty-seven! I start to laugh, unable to contain the glee. Humf cuts me off.

"I can't maintain the aft thruster, sir. Vent the manifold and shut it down while I switch to maneuvering."

I comply, giddy. I imagine Luda watching the race progress in the station which is just now visible on the viewer.

The landing is less than graceful. The landing gear and every other protruding device on my ship had melted off, but I see the crowd cheering when we finally stop sliding.

A wave of nausea hits me when I stand, but I push through it, put my lucky jacket on and head to the hatch. In seconds I would be in her arms again. Fucking Reinald lost.

Leaning against the bulkhead seductively I wait for hatch to open. And wait, and wait.

“Humf," I growl.

"It's stuck, sir,"

"Unstick it," I wrench open the manual release control panel. The handle lifts but puffs air unhelpfully.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid it's fused shut," Humf didn't sound sorry though. "The station commander is hailing," he doesn't wait for me to respond before the cabin is filled with light from the viewer. I hear cheering in the background and the commander's upbeat voice.

"Congratulations, Captain! You've beat the record by an impressive margin. I'm sending some boys to cut you out of there. That was some pretty hot flying!" he laughs at his own joke and I try to smile when I turn to face him. I see Luda in the crowd behind him, smiling wide.

I watch the second and third place captains take their medals. Eventually, the crowd moves out of the hangar to celebrate with them in the ballroom. I sit up when I realize Luda has stayed behind to wait for me... Or for Reinald...

Reinald finally lands. Last place... By a lot.

Luda runs to the ship as his hatch opens and she leaps into his arms. He grabs her fat ass and kisses her deeply, stupid mustache pressing into her perfect blue face. They stop after too long and she says something to him. He looks at my ship and smiles, stupid fucking mustache twitching.

He puts his arms around her again and kisses her, still looking at my ship, looking at me... When he grabs her perfect behind this time he slides up her thin dress and I see she isn't wearing anything underneath. Clutching a handful of blue he lifts her up and she squeals so loud I hear it through the bulkheads.

He looks at me one last time before turning her around to press her against his ship. Her long legs wrap around him, adorable tiny sandaled feet linking behind his waist.

When he starts to kiss her neck I see her face, her mouth open and I know she's making that sound I like so much...

I turn my chair when they start to fuck and see that Humf was watching as well. He turns away from the screen though when he sees my face.

The grinding noise from the work-team outside stops after a few very long minutes and I ask Humf, "Are they finished?"

"Yes," he responds and I'm glad. At least Reinald can't last as long as me. She always complained I took too long to fuck her.  

"It will take two minutes for the metal to contract before they attempt to open," and I realize he means the workers. I'm afraid to turn and see Reinald's ass between her perfect legs.

"They are watching the humanoids mate now while they wait," he says, unfeeling. When he turns to watch the screen again I clench my hand to keep from punching him.


Time Transfer

Waiting in the station was not going as I had imagined. When I had, she sauntered up to me, long legs wrapped in red leather boots, fur gleaming. She touched my cheek and asked me if I was looking for a fun night.

But instead the station was crowded... packed. People were pushing, bustling past me, blocking my view of her beautiful body. And there was a smell I'd never smelled before, a combination of things I couldn't put my finger on except for one that was distinctly fishy.

After I had gotten over the shock that Craigslist was still around 750 years later I had put out an ad for a guide. He's the one who brought me here, showed her to me. He disdainfully called her a prostitute, but it was less about what she did and more about what she was; a mutant human, a cat lady. "If you're into that sort of thing," he had said. Boy, was I ever.

'Foreign visitor seeking a guide' had been my ad. I couldn't say what I really was, my predicament was top secret. It was promise not to tell, or stay locked up for the whole time. I was a time transfer, part of a top secret program to learn more about the past, or maybe to change it, I wasn't sure. Me a thirty-year-old female government secretary, trapped in the body of a gorgeous male spy historian.

I would much rather have had this body's wife as a guide. But she'd packed up and left when she found out he was going on another mission. It would've been nice to have someone who knew why I was so naive show me around but she didn't want to see someone else piloting her husband. I get it. She eventually did come home. She didn't speak much, wouldn't let me speak, just promptly removed my clothes and showed me exactly what she'd been missing. It was a good night.

The guide hadn't returned my calls after the first time out. I guess he wasn't buying my second rumspringa story. Apparently, all the amish had moved to French-Canada and I didn't have the accent for it. Or maybe it was the questions about the mutants that I asked, forcing him to tell me more about them. I should've just asked my Google-Robot, but then he wouldn't have brought me here to see her. To "show me the mutants in action," he had said.

She was standing, talking with a group of lizard men. They looked huge next to her. Her black fur glinted in the light of the station and every once and a while she tilted her head back and laughed. I could barely hear it from where I sat. She was never going to notice me, and I was never going to get the courage to go up and talk to her.

The watch at my wrist beeped. One hour left till this body was no longer mine and I was catapulted back in time to my pitiful apartment. What was he doing with my body? What historical secrets had he poached from my existence? Had he touched my boobs? Probably. I'd certainly touched him, all over.

I felt a twinge of guilt, he wouldn't want me here. I stood up, finally ready to leave and heard a soft thump behind me. "Tired of waiting for her to notice you, sweety?" the voice was high, feminine and mocking. I looked back to see a toothy smile on a feline face. She was perched on the bench behind me, a calico; orange, black and white, tail flicking behind her.

I started to walk away, embarrassed I'd been caught, afraid of why she'd noticed me. I heard scratching noises to my left and then two feet from the stairs she was suddenly in front of me. She was short and so close to me I could see down her tank top. Fur on every inch I could see and I wondered if the fur continued where I couldn't see.

Between the large ears on the top of her head was a mop of calico curls, she stared up at me with wide eyes.

"I could be your fun time," she said, and I wondered if she'd read my thoughts. I nodded, dumbly.

"Where's your car, handsome?" she asked, leading me up the stairs.

"I took the bus," I responded, trying to sound mysterious. I always liked mysterious men.

Her peal of laughter echoed up the stairs and I could feel myself blushing. This was not going well.

I tried to keep my stupid mouth shut as I followed her through the crowded alleys across from the station.

She had something on resembling shorts, but more like jean underwear, and the gap allowing her tail to roam drew my attention most of all.

When we arrived at her apartment she showed me just how much of her was covered in fur. When she purred, I purred. And as the final seconds counted down to the end of my time transfer I pulled her tail and she howled. Two beasts fulfilled, centuries apart.