1. Wellix
I plop my chin into the palm of my hand and skate my fingers lazily over the control panel in front of me. The dim green lights brighten in response, but none of the readouts change. The information has remained the same every time I have deigned to poke at the screens. I study the data nonetheless, because I am obliged to do so, but my interest is not held. The ship is busily sucking up information about the planet beneath me, but my mind continues to wander in unhelpful directions. I am approaching my next mating cycle, and my body is beginning to make its demands of me. My inner thighs ache like they are bruised and my nipples grate against the inside of my outfit every time I move. My mind is consumed with thoughts of rutting, of hard, relentless fucking. This is a part of my biology, and it is as natural as the three suns of my planet rising every morning. But, skies above, it is frustrating to be stuck on a job when all I want to do is swing past my local pleasure house and climb into one of the machines. I squirm in my control seat as I think of the efficient, satisfying fuck of the mechanical phalluses filling my womanhood. My thighs press together and applies some gentle pressure to my sex. I sigh, letting out a long breath as I begin to rock my hips. I'm so far from anything close to being that satisfying. The thought just serves to piss me off further.
One of the screens before me beeps noisily and I stop thrusting in my seat. I would love to continue, but I put my sexual frustration on the back burner as I open the alert. If there's one thing that outranks the flame of my desire, it is the legitimate duty to my job that I cannot shirk. I don't want to think about what happens if I fail to do my task. My eyebrows rise towards my hairline as I take in the information on the readout. Did we drift off course whilst I was distracted? I squint at the screen and make sure my position is accurate. This is why the work I am doing is so important, I suppose. The maps my people possess of Earth are outdated, the information all but fossilised since the last time one of our ships came by to scan the planet. Where there ought to have been a stretch of uninterrupted forest, a small community has formed around a watering hole. A lake, I think. I click open a map and lean in closer towards the screens.
The readout indicates that the settlement is made up of several wooden cabins surrounding the body of water. A single unpaved road circles the domiciles and trails off into the woods, where I lose track of it. I press a button to activate the cloaking device on my ship and bring up a new screen with a flick of my fingers. I don't pause to think before I take us closer. I am invisible in the night sky; the bottom of my ships are designed to be untraceable from below, but I ensure that the lights are deactivated and the scanner is momentarily turned off, just in case. I navigate by the cameras on the belly of my ship until I am hovering some thirty feet above the water.
Instead of relying on screens, I get up out of my seat and peep out of the windows. I can see the cabins beneath me, if I lean into the glass hard enough. The cabins are all almost dark, save for a few of them that are illuminated from within. I spot two vehicles clustered together around one of the houses and startle slightly when I see them. Humans. I shrink away instinctively, but my curiosity draws me back immediately. The humans below are engaging in some social interaction. One of them is passing another a dish, presumably of food, and they appear to be very pleased by this. Another human is a little further away, bent in half, stoking a fire in a pit in front of the house. I see that four or five seats have been arranged about the fire.
Humans are strange, unusual creatures to me, usually. But, I recognise this kind of social interaction.
On my home planet - Voxil - we sometimes gather around fires and share meals. It is a tradition, actually, during mating cycles. We eat, we grow warm, and we find someone to mate with. I think fondly of the times I have participated. It's never a bad experience, as I have learned, but it does leave me somewhat dissatisfied, hence my interest in pleasure houses. I wonder sometimes whether I am an outlier amidst my own people. My peers, my friends, never seem to come away from those fires feeling the same way as I do. They never seem to itch for more, never seem to be anything less than totally satisfied by their single mating. Don't get me wrong, I still have a good time bouncing on the thick shafts of my mating partners. It just seems as though I am never fully sated. I remain hungry.
I wonder whether these humans are gathering to mate around their fire. The information I have about them is outdated, so I don't bother to refer to it. I look down on the scene and find that three male humans have settled down into the chairs and are talking amongst themselves. They exchange drinks and conversation, but after several minutes of watching, I don't see any sign that they're going to begin having sex. I glance at the home they are sitting beside, thinking that perhaps their mates will exit the cabin and get things started. I would like to watch, if they did, and perhaps it would become a welcome break. I could open my legs and reach within my suit and I could work off some of this sexual energy with the visual stimulation to aid me. It still would not be enough, but perhaps it would take off the edge.
I let out an annoyed groan when, after ten more minutes have passed, nothing has changed. No human females have come out from the cabin, and the men beneath me do nothing except drink and eat and talk. I put my head in my hands and allow my irritation to get the best of me. My womanhood twitches and clasps on nothing. I can feel slickness inside my thin undergarments. My friends would tell me I was thinking with my sex, not with my brain, but I don't care. I smack the button that deactivates the cloaking mechanism and restarts the lights. I don't bother looking down to see whether the men below react. I'm too busy opening another screen and activating the tractor beam. It takes a moment for it to warm up. It makes an aggravating, noisy, mechanical grunt that I know is the bay doors below opening. The beam activates, flooding the lake and its surrounding cabins below in green light.
