A huge 1,000 passenger shuttle roared down the
runway and up the gently curving ramp carved from Mt. Wilson
until it lifted off, flickering through the clouds in
intermittent colors of the rainbow, disappearing into the dark
sky above the city. It would dock within moments at one of the
many space stations circling overhead, then return with a
thousand returning passengers. The occurrence was so common that
few people even looked up during a launch.
Lines of lighted traffic crisscrossed the massive
city known as Western, encompassing the entire western end of the
United States. At least twice a day a vehicle would fall from
the sky, so the traffic lanes were precisely drawn to cross only
uninhabited or poorly inhabited parts of town. As in the past,
the wealthy were protected from disaster.
In the middle of all this wealth stood a gleaming
glass pyramid called New Genova, it's top disappeared well up
into the clouds. This housed many of the city's wealthy. Inside
it's structure were miles of living quarters stacked precisely to
form the walls of the pyramid, surrounding 400 square miles of
"city within a city". Many generations had been born, lived, and
died inside the walls of New Genova without ever having set a
foot outside. Homeless sought shelter inside such structures,
where they became lost in the masses of streets and parks, and
lived out their lives in comparative temperature-controlled
comfort. Several such complexes were constructed after
disasters, both manmade and natural, destroyed many of the
towering buildings constructed during the 20th century.
The very top of the tower had been turned into an
observatory. It had once been a huge single apartment, but wars
had been fought over the possession of this apartment and the
authorities were forced to lease only the second level to the
public. Even these 20 apartments were highly sought-after, and
it was rumored that murder had been used to make an apartment
become vacant in a timely manner. So, it was universally
understood that the bravest and wealthiest person on Earth
occupied apartment number one in the New Genova living
complex.
Apartment number one was currently occupied by the
richest woman in the known universe, Fiona Campbell. She hurried
between her semi-transparent walls filled with moving blobs of
color. Her ceiling was composed of an erie projection of the
dark airless space around her. Some found this view frightening,
she found it exhilarating. Much of her furniture was semi-
transparent to match the walls. It shimmered occasionally
changing into a dimly seen sheen of gold, blue, or yellow. The
floor seemed to be composed of raw earth and lawn, but this too
was a projection. At midnight the floor would turn into a lake.
As Fiona whisked into the dining room, she glanced at the
floating table top.
Fiona walked briskly around the dinning room
table. She placed her hands on her hips as she surveyed the
setting. The sweet breads filled one corner, hors d'oeuvre on
the other, and one section was entirely devoted to drinks. In
the center stood a 3 foot square box, covered with a black silk
sheet. Although it did not go with the rest of the precisely
purchased and placed expensive settings, it thrilled her to look
at it. She smiled fondly at the box, then swirled and hurried to
her bedroom.
Finona stripped down naked and stepped into her
power-wash. She slid her head into the helmet, made sure her
hair was all bundled inside, then set the controls for a 30
second wash. She was briefly struck by flower-scented soapy
water, then rinsed thoroughly from all directions. Meanwhile,
her hair was subjected to a barrage of different waters and
chemicals. Several seconds later the roar of the drying cycle
whipped the water off her naked body, and sucked her hair into a
withering living mass of drying hair. She giggled slightly.
When the machine grew silent she pulled her head down and out.
In a few short minutes she picked her new dress from the mail
order display and waited as it was delivered to her express
slot.
It had taken her 5 1/2 minutes from start to
finish. All she needed now was to brush her teeth and dress.
She paused in front of the wall-sized mirror. She turned from
one side to the other, admiring her naked perfect body in the
computer enhanced reflection. She briefly lifted each breast and
let it fall. Yup, absolutely perfect, and most of it was
natural. She wet her index fingers and used them to stimulate
her nipples. Each stood at proud attention under even the
briefest stimulation.
She faced the mirror and spread her legs. The
small tuft of hair was cute and unchanging. She had used laser
electrolysis to removed all the unwanted hair permanently, making
the skin around her pussy bright and baby smooth. She reached
down and cupped her own pussy, gasping at the brief contact. She
slid a finger inside her pussy and stimulated her clit. Her body
reacted violently. Although she made it a point to have sex once
a week, as the Surgeon General recommended, her body still
reacted as if she were hard up. Maybe that was because she was
so young. She had heard that a body reacts differently once you
turn 30.
"Don Jaron and Mona Beffler are at the door," a
soft but forceful male voice said from all around her. It was
her house.
"Allow them to enter, make them at home in the
living room."
"Very well. Should I begin security scans of the
premises while your guests are here tonight?"
"No," she roared, upset by the thought that her
house didn't trust her guests, some of the most prestigious
people in Manhattan. People who had fought and clawed their way
to the top, people who would do anything to stay there.
"Yes," she said with a sly smile. "But make your
security passive and lie if anybody asks if you are recording.
Oh, and don't let them anywhere near the dinning room," she added
as she grabbed her dress. She wouldn't need underwear, it wasn't
that kind of a party.
"Defensive weaponry is activated," it intoned.
"No, stupid, don't make me come in there and slap
you, I said passive security. Just tell them to stay out, if
they wander near the box."
"Defensive weaponry is deactivated," it said with
an equal amount of dispassion. If an AI controlled house could
feel regret, it would certainly regret this decision later. But
to an unfeeling mass of human brain cells without hormones, it
was just another command.
"Jill Carnes and Freda Henson are at the door,"
the computer said as she slid into her semi-transparent red
dress.
"Just take care of it," she shouted through the
material of the dress. The dress suddenly slid into place. It
was a form-fitting party dress made to go on in the traditional
way, but to be taken off by force. It WAS that kind of a
party.
She admired her figure in the mirror once more,
then skipped out of the bedroom. There were seven guests when
she entered the living room. Five women... all bi, and two men.
They looked absolutely delicious, Fiona thought as she looked
around with a little shiver of excitement. So much human flesh,
and so little time to explore it. Of course humans were not the
source of her inspiration tonight.
"Welcome," she gasped, looking from one to the
other as she made her rounds and shook hands. She kissed the two
women which she knew well. She would get to know the other's
later. Most were the important people on the party "A" list.
"Is it true?" the second man, Matthew St. Johns
asked.
"Is what true?" she asked innocently.
"You know, the fairy thing," he said with a
significant look.
"Did you hear that?" Jill asked Mona. "He refers
to Alluvian Honey Fairies as, "that fairy thing".
"Oh Jill, you are so wrong," Fiona said, putting
an arm around her waist and leading her into the dinning room.
"Alluvia is a protected planet. Anyone caught with an Alluvian
Honey Fairy will be subjected to the death penalty, not to
mention the cost of transporting them. No, these are...
facsimiles."
"Yeah, right," Jill said, kissing Fiona on the
cheek, while sliding a hand down from her shoulder to her breast,
which bounced so alluringly within the transparent red dress.
"If anyone is asked, that's what you will say,"
she said, pointing at each guest in turn until everyone nodded.
"Swear," she said again. "I'm too young to die over something so
stupid," she said.
They all swore, secretly knowing that the second
wealthiest woman in the universe would never be subject to normal
laws, but they would certainly be subjected to her wrath, if she
found out they reported her.
"Ok, if everyone..."
"Oh look!" Mona shouted. She pointed at a small
nine inch long arm which snaked out of the cloth and grabbed a
cookie. The arm and cookie disappeared in flash.
"The little sneaks," Fiona roared, looking over
the sweet breads which rested near the cage. Some had cost her a
thousand credits per cookie, they could only be baked in the
weightlessness of space. She served only the best. She found
several thousand credits of sweet breads missing.
"Damn them," she hissed under her breath. She
grabbed the cover and yanked it off the cage. She had five
females and one male inside. The male was purchased in case she
decided to breed them. The females were the only ones who
produced honey.
At the moment the five females huddled in one
corner, sharing the cookie, while the male stood defiantly with
his hands on his hips in the other corner facing her. He had
stolen the cookie, she could tell by the leather band on his tiny
forearm.
"You try that again, you little bastard, and I'll
twist your fucking head off," she hissed, pointing a finger at
him. A smile twisted his tiny face. She howled in outrage.
"I can't see their wings," Latoya said, shifting
from one side to the other.
"They are very clear, with a just a touch of
gold," Fiona said, suddenly distracted. "Once you handle one,
you will see that they lay in the middle of their backs."
"How much did they cost you?" Don asked in a
straightforward manner.
"Seven hundred billion credits, plus the ship,"
she said, swallowing quickly. "No captain wanted to risk their
own ship. I had to supply one."
"Who had the balls to fly it?"
"Why?" she asked, suddenly suspicious.
"Hey, no," he said, raising his hands. "Just
asking?"
"I noticed. Don't do it again," she threatened,
displaying her notorious French/Irish temper.
"Hey, Fiona," Jill called. "Where are the
goodies?"
Fiona looked at the food-ladened table and
laughed. "That's not enough for you?"
"You know what I mean, you little bitch," she
said.
"In the drawer behind you," Fiona said with a
smirk.
"Look, see, I told you!" Jill shrieked, holding up
an odd looking dildo. She displayed it proudly all around. "One
billion credits each," she intoned solemnly.
"It's just a fucking dildo," Mat said
dispassionately.
"Like hell," Fiona said, grabbing it out of Jill's
hand and pushing it toward Mat. "It's a Sensarator."
"No! Really?" he asked, suddenly interested.
"But these cost..." he let his words trail off. Things which
cost a fortune were routine for Fiona. She never bought anything
less.
"How do you turn it on?" Jill asked, grabbing it
back out of Mat's hand.
"It's automatic," Fiona said, grabbing a second
one. "You insert it in any orifice but your mouth. The reason
is, the internal dildo expands and can actually suffocate you.
It fills up all available space."
"I can have a real cock," Jill said to Mona.
"Want me to fuck you?"
"I don't understand the excitement," Mona said
with a skeptical smile.
"It... you feel it," Jill exclaimed. "I have a
dildo on the outside, I fuck you with it, and on the inside I
feel every little tickle. It fills me up and stimulates all my
nerve endings. Do you understand?"
"I guess."
"Here, take it," Jill said, pushing the dildo
toward Mona. Mona held the internal half of the dildo. It
pulsed in her hand, filling every void.
"Ready?" Jill asked.
"Sure," Mona said dispassionately. Jill ran a
finger tip down the length of the dildo......can you guess the rest ? read erotic fantasy stories at smuterotica enter here