Julie and the Demons Pt. 01

CHAPTER ONE - LEATHER WINGS

Georgryx glides the night on silent leather wings, high above the sleeping forest. Watching the sky for others in his patrol, he fervently hopes he will not be missed. His brother will cover for him, but if caught will invite the same cruel punishment. To abandon his patrol is serious enough. But to commit the act that has obsessed him through many fevered nights means sudden and violent death if he is found out.

He sees his destination below. One last careful search of the starry sky and he commits himself, furling claw-tipped wings in a fast dive. He lands with little sound on the wooden rail of the stockade where the animals are kept. Folding wings over bare muscled shoulders, his hairless tail lashes. With clawed hands he reaches for the waistband, pulls the cloth pants from his powerful legs. His balls contract with the cool air, but his penis remains stiff, rising as if to find her scent on the night.

He smells them, the animals once called foodbeasts, although only two had been killed and eaten in the early days, after their strange craft had limped to a landing from somewhere out in the stars. Many had been captured, subdued and examined publicly before the scientists knew.

It was then the scientists put an abrupt stop to the feasts. Now the animals are considered by the best minds on Calendula as Incubators. Whispered rumors circulate, but few facts are available.

Georgryx cannot wait, the urgency in his loins clouds his senses. Through an open doorway he sees several of the long-limbed beasts sleeping naked on piles of straw. The one he prefers smells right. He sends out a mental image and the animal lifts her head, looking at him in the dimness. Another image causes the female to rise on graceful tapered hind legs.

The foodbeast walks toward him slowly, mind clouded in sleep. She towers over him, easily twice his height, smooth and hairless except for her long mane of hair and the small furry place below her belly. Her small breasts are high, smooth torso long and taut, clear muscular development from running the countryside every day, strapped with a leather saddle and an officer pressed to her firm buttocks.

Georgryx sends her a mental image of the saddle. She turns toward the tack room to retrieve it. He watches her haunches move as she pads the rough boards into darkness. The view makes him stroke his hardness. Always properly clothed in public, the foodbeasts are commanded to remain naked while in the stockade and training pens.

Soon she returns, fastening the wide leather belt around her slim waist. At his command she gathers the long mane behind her neck into a metal clasp. With his silent urging she bends her knees into a deep squat. Her head is now at his level. In the dimness, her eyes stare straight ahead. Her dulled mind waits only for his command. She cannot think, the scientists say. But can she feel? Beside her flared hips, the stirrups dangle. Georgryx grasps her thick mane in clawed fingers and steps in.

His head is light with bliss. Usually the foodbeasts are clothed when ridden, as are their riders. Now, Gorgryx feels with his bare thighs and belly the naked flesh of his powerful mount. Lowering himself in the stirrups, his penis dangles in the crevice between her warm buttocks.

He commands her with an image of standing. As her legs straighten, he is lifted from the ground, pressed against her warmth. His thighs grip her soft hindquarters and his breath comes fast. His thick tail reaches under him, between her legs and up her belly, pulling their bodies into firm contact. Fully erect, his corkscrew penis is clasped between the curving undersides of her rump. With further commands, she exits the stockade and begins to walk across the open field.

It is too dark to move fast. She must carefully pick out the trail in starlight. Beneath the leaden hypnosis that blankets the female's consciousness there is a tremble of fear. She has never been ridden alone, never at night, and has always been clothed. During some rides, the leathery riders pressed to her backside, but both were fully dressed for the trails, and it was public.

Powerless to repel him now, she feels urgent arousal and vague dread as her striding buttocks stroke his small male prod. His stiff tail gropes for a hold on her flat belly, doing what his tiny weenie could never do as it spreads the moistening folds of her sex.

Gorgryx is in a transport of arousal and fear. If found out there will be swift death. But that fear is thrust aside by repeated strokings of the animal's warm flesh as she walks. He has dreamed of this constantly.

They are far from the compound now, hidden under trees in complete darkness. He commands her to stop. He knows there is a body opening between her buttocks, and probes for it with his stiff leathery penis. The angle is wrong. With mental orders he causes her to bend at the waist, place her feet farther apart, and lower her buttocks slightly. There! His short penis with the tapered tip forces against her pungent starfish. It is too tight. Mentally, he commands her to open herself.

Unaware of what she is doing, she pushes down with her inner muscles. It accomplishes nothing, and Gorgryx is frustrated. He knows this is not right.

The doctors and scientists have kept knowledge of the foodbeasts secret, though there had been rumors. Why are they now called Incubators? Why does nearly every Calendulan male carry a secret lust to be alone with one? The select group of foodbeast riders have become legendary figures, special, sought after for their stories of rubbing skin to skin while riding the tall alien captives.

He commands her to squat. Searching for grip, his flexible tail loses purchase on her abdomen, and slides into a fleshy channel, slippery, warm. His mind reels in lust. This is what they meant! The riders with their secretly whispered stories knew this already! He jumps down, and walks around in front of her, between her spread knees. The sky is lightening, he can make out her graceful form. He jumps into her lap, his feet find the stirrups. He commands her to stand, legs wide apart, hands clasped behind her head. There!

Ashamed in his ignorance, he now possesses more knowledge of the stupid, sexual foodbeasts than most of his kind on the entire planet. His tail reaches beneath her spread crotch, gains a grip on her buttocks. His penis slides freely in the slick flesh where her legs join. Frantically he seeks the warm opening, the end of his penis slithers into her warmth where it swells to a fat knob and convulses rhythmically. She is his.

A sound high above. The whirr of wings! Light-headed, Gorgryx lifts his face, long tail still gripping him against the human abdomen, his fat-bulbed corkscrew penis spurting in her warm dank.

A hiss of sound and a loud thwack. The arrow takes him in the eye, passes through and exits the back of his skull. The leathery winged reptile falls backward, dead on the ground below her, clutching at her long mane. Distant cries and yips from dark sky above.

Standing naked in the pre-dawn darkness of an alien world, Julie Knox comes to her senses. Her sodden mental dullness lifts, bringing with it full awareness of the last hour since she awoke. She trembles in the pleasure of forbidden sex, something her own crew had warned against. But her mind has been Frenched. Celibate in her months of mind-fogged captivity in the pens, she is horny as a rabbit. Hand going to her crotch even in her revulsion, she wants more.

This flying lizard was fucking me! The idea sends a sexual thrill through her loins.

She looks down in horror to see the toothy beak open wide. She screeches her revulsion at the creature in the dirt, horrified at the swollen penis that spurts between muscular thighs. Something has allowed her to come to her senses. She has mere seconds to act.

With a howl of feral rage, Julie leaps into the air, lands with both heels in the creature's chest. The goblin's crushed ribcage emits an empty bleat, but the animal is already dead.

Julie runs.

CHAPTER TWO - THE SHIP

Julie dashes through dark forest, bare flesh lashed by small branches. Her stomach flops with the horror of what she has seen, at what she did to that disgusting leathery thing. And what it was doing to her.

For the first time since her capture, her mind is clear. Her handler is dead. She felt him die, knew in her mind the horror of his chest collapsing under her vengeful attack. And before that she felt his sexual lust for her. She experienced more than his touch against her bare body, she knew what it was like for him. To seek her wetness with his small twisted dink. Through some mental connection, she felt the ecstasy he was glad to die for. That thing! Inside my mind! In my vagina.

In the predawn darkness, Julie leans against a tree to retch. Her abdomen aches, her muscles contract forcefully to spill it all out, get rid of everything she's known and endured the last five months. Her last ragged heaves become sobs of grief. Water. She must drink, and clean herself of this filth. Julie runs on, not noticing how one hand frigs her sopping crotch in the dark forest night.

Noises among dark trees, animal calls, scurrying sounds, a low thrum-thrum she cannot identify. But she knows this path. She has taken it many times, usually with one of those things mounted in her stirrups. The thought forces her hands to the leather saddle's wide belt and she unbuckles it as she runs. She holds back from casting it away. No! Not along the path, it must be well hidden. The pond is not much farther.

There! Ahead, a brighter glow in the dark forest, water sounds. She had never been allowed to swim or bathe here, only to drink. Bathing had been done in the open, by her handlers, with a bucket and a brush. She'd hated it, on all fours in the dirt of a stable pen. The extra time they had spent washing between her legs, examining her! Sometimes the other women had watched, her crewmates, listless minds cloaked beneath their handlers' firm control. Sometimes they had been made to wash and examine one another for sport. Julie shudders at the memories of that touching.

She rushes into the water, splashing through the shallows, dives where it gets deep. She flings the belt hard toward the center of the pool. Treading water, both hands are between her legs, washing her girl-hole. Her back door too! She shudders to think the alien's penis squirted her there. Tell me he didn't get it in! So slimy!

It takes some time for her to feel less confused. The emotional mark will never fade. But her ladylike parts now feel clean. Her tummy still hurts, deep in her abdomen. She groans at thoughts of the mind-numbing hypnotic blanket she'd lived under all this time. They could have done anything to us!

A sudden call through dark trees. "Julie Knox. Julie Arlene Knox! We'll take you to the ship!"

Julie's head jerks around, her eyes scan the shore. The first human voice she has heard in months, and it's calling her name! Rapid footfalls, sounds of bodies crashing through the brush nearby. Julie is quiet, doesn't dare breathe, still hidden in the center of the dark pond. Across the water she hears that low thrum-thrum sound. Her ears prick up and her head turns to follow. She sees large whitish things, low to the water, folded surfaces like giant flower petals. Flowers? Impossible! Too damn big for that.

"Julie Knox! Please answer. We're taking you to the ship!"

Julie knows the voice. Ruth Cowan. The chief science officer of Samsara, the starship that brought them to this godforsaken place.

"Ruth! Ruth, my God. Here, here!"

Julie pushes off the bottom and struggles up the bank, water sheeting from her smooth body in the rising dawn. Four figures hurry toward her through the trees, three women and a man, all wearing camos, backpacks, boots, carrying heavy weapons. One rushes toward her as the other three stand watch, neutron rifles pointing around the clearing.

"Ruth!" The friends collide in a desperate hug. Ruth pulls back, taking in Julie's wet, naked form. "We have to move. Follow us! Try to keep up!"

The woman turns and starts off at a fast trot. Julie catches her easily. The five run at a good pace, skirting the pond. Weapons stay ready. As they dash through a clearing in the rising dawn Julie sees large plant forms that can only be orchids, blossoms higher than her head.

"Stay clear of those," one of the women warns, breathless. Julie finds the pace slow, catches Ruth to run alongside. She could easily outrun them.

"How many are left?"

Ruth cuts her a glance. "With you we have thirty-nine. How many still captive?"

"Twelve. They killed Samantha and Andrea."

"My god. Savages."

"Not savages, something more," Julie replies. "They were mistaken about us. They want us for some purpose."

"Just run," Ruth tells her, breathless.

Radio chatter echoes. They reach and quickly pass a checkpoint, two men, heavily armed, watch the forest. Fleeting male glances at Julie's naked flanks. One holds out to Julie a long-sleeved shirt. She shrugs into it as she runs with the others.

The white ship is half-buried in the earth, in the center of a broad clearing and ringed by guarded gates and fences. Ruth leads Julie through an entry port, into the familiar smells and sounds of an Earth Foundation starship.

"Decontamination," Ruth says, stopping at a metal door. "Then we'll debrief you."

Julie nods and steps in. The door hisses shut behind her. For the first time in months she is alone, and safe.

"Hello Julie," a feminine voxbot intones. "Remove outer garments. Place decon helmet on your head. Be sure all head hair is inside the helmet. Do it. Do it now."

Julie hurries to comply. Naked, she wears a clear spherical helmet with a snug-fitting neck seal.

"Step into the shower please Ms. Knox. Grip both hands on the metal railing."

Julie reaches above her head to grasp the bar. Liquid jets emerge from the walls on articulated arms, angling hot needle sprays as they travel her skin.

"Place your feet apart, Ms. Knox. Allow your knees to bend." The bar she grips descends toward the shower floor. In the wide squat her knees part, her ass juts out. Needle sprays travel down her back, a sharp cutting sensation at her starfish that makes her cry out. The spray travels mercilessly over her fleshy sex lips. Two of the sprays linger on her clitoris, causing her hips to jerk forward. It stings, but relaxes her. She wants to be clean down there, after what happened.

"Detect foreign matter in vagina. Request permission to provide medicinal douche."

"Yes," Julie says within the helmet, "permission given."

A different type of wand appears, this one with a long rubberoid nozzle. As she squats, the flexible probe nuzzles between her outer lips. She feels warmth, an inner jet of soothing lubricant. The probe pushes inward, angled perfectly to the opening of her vagina. The probe begins to pulsate and warm liquid flows. A subconscious sexual urge remains from her semi-lucid mating with the flying lizard.

Julie can't help herself. Deep in the squat her hips thrust forward against the nozzle sunk in her hungry sex, flooding her with warm liquid. Julie closes her eyes. One of the wands moves its stinging spray to her clitoris and the douche nozzle pulsates harder. In seconds she is over the edge, the orgasm her unconscious had denied her when mated with that... that thing.

Alone in the small decon closet, Julie screams, dangling from her arms, aroused pussy hard probed and flooded with warm slippery fluid.

"Anal contamination detected," the robotic voice announces. "Request permission for rectal cleansing."

"Aaaaaagh!" Julie cries out. "Oh yes oh god yes. Don't stop the douche whatever you do!"

"Request granted. Permission received."

Another shiny nozzle rises on a flexible arm, quickly finds her kooze. Slippery fluid squirts inside her, the soft probe enters, then inflates to a spherical shape, completely plugging her. She feels a powerful rush of fluid. The douche nozzle begins a more insistent vibration.

"We detect it has been many months since your last orgasmic activity, Ms. Knox," the robot speaks. "Would you like another?"

Julie's only answer is a yes that sounds like a moan of ecstasy. She lowers herself to the floor of the chamber. On her back she draws up her knees, opening herself to the action of the robotic arms. Powerful shudders rock her belly. Her hips jerk upward toward the probes that fill her. Her fingers find tender nipples to stroke and pinch.

When she is spent, her legs flop out on the wet ceramic floor of the cubicle. The robot announces that her cleansing is complete, and the probes gently withdraw. She lies inert as the spray wands make a final pass over her smooth flesh, spending extra time tidying up between her legs.

"Please stand, Ms. Knox, for the air dry. You may take off the helmet now."

Standing among the air nozzles, Julie pulls the helmet off and drops it in a bin. As an air nozzle reaches her fleshy Vee, she sees it is completely hairless. The depilatory spray.

The decon cabinet door slides open with a soft hiss. Julie steps through into an examination room.

"Please put on a gown," prompts the soothing robotic voice, and lie on the exam table."

Of course the gown is open in the back, has but a single tie at the neck. The table is warm in the white room lined with cabinets and complicated instruments. Julie is getting set on the table when the ship's chief surgeon enters. Officer Matt McFadden, followed by two women, all wearing scrubs and surgical masks, hands in blue latex exam gloves.

"Hi Julie, good to see you back with us," McFadden says.

Julie groans inwardly. What she really wants is a debrief of her months in captivity, get the away team to rescue her shipmates in the stockade. But she sees a time-consuming medical workup is under way.

"We need to rescue them," Julie says. "They are in danger."

"Yes, we know where you were held," says McFadden. "Too much chance of our crew getting hurt if we go in. Please be patient while we look you over. It's for the safety of the ship, you surely know."

Julie nods, and patiently relaxes her body on the table. The three are all working at once, listening to her heart, taking pulse, temperature. Hidden equipment in the table is scanning her body.

"Any sensations today, any pain?"

"My belly hurts," Julie tells them. Her mind recoils in horror recalling the scene with the lizard-bat.

"Decon gave you a douche and a rectal rinse. We are evaluating the samples. Any other pain or sensation?"

"I feel fine except my tummy."

One of the nurses is at a monitor. "Doctor, look at this." Above the surgical mask, her eyes register alarm. Dr. McFadden steps over to see for himself. "Unbelievable."

He turns back to Julie on the exam table. "Julie, before you were captured, were you having any unprotected sex?"

"Sex yes, always with protection." You should know Doctor. You were on top of me.

"So there is no way you could be pregnant?"

Julie is thinking hard. Why this talk of pregnancy?

"Absolutely not. What are you seeing?"

"You appear to be several months pregnant. Past mid-term."

"What! That's not possible." Julie could recall having menstrual periods all during her captivity. There were at least four. "I've been having periods."

"We'll check into it. We - "

The doctor's words are cut off as the robot annunciator speaks.

"Warning! Incoming attack. All hands to defender zones. Incoming attack. Warning! All personnel to defender zones."

"Julie, go with Nurse Mitchell. Go now. We must hurry. We'll take care of you as soon as this attack passes."

One of the nurses takes Julie's hand and pulls her off the table, removing her surgical mask as she does so. "Nice to have you back with us Julie." Julie recognizes the woman, Charmaine Mitchell, one of her yoga group. "Charmaine! How are you?"