Spring Break

For a contest . . .

Spring Break

For Spring Break I chose one of the more exotic spots – Catagoria. Sure, I knew it was wild. Unexpected things were rumored to happen there -- exciting things, although I'd never heard any of the precise details.

I suppose I did suspect that visiting an alien world could be dangerous, but the mystery of it drew me. And I’m not sorry. I’m glad, for what I found there in Catagoria was far beyond exciting. It was wild and wonderful.

My flight out to the planet was only a long, blurred nap. No bed and toilet quarters. Only a body-sized capsule. I don’t have any recall of the ship’s blast-off into space, or of the months I spent in snoozeville -- only the horrid buzz in my ear that woke me and forced me to yawn myself out of sleep mode.

I woke up ravenous, my stomach growled a raucous symphony of discord, but I was too sick even to nibble at the selection of food bars various medics tried to get me to eat. One white-coated doctor told me that the way I was feeling was perfectly normal, as were my shaky legs, scratchy eyes, burning throat, and the sagging eyelids which kept closing every time I sat down.

That residue of sleepiness is probably why I hardly noticed the others who’d traveled with me, all of them equally intent on having a wild and wondrous Spring Break. We sat about, groggy and non-communicative, awaiting directions, obeying the medics as much as our nauseous state allowed. We were all just college students -- young and easily led. We trusted, believed everything they told us. God, we were foolish.

I was nineteen, legally an adult, but Earth no longer expected kids my age to be fully mature. The latest medical studies had shown kids our age to be lacking in brain maturation, so you could say that we were uncompleted, not quite ripe yet, or something.

But I’d never have admitted to that. My parents had passed on, and I’d been acting as an adult for the past year. That should have given me a quotient of preparedness, an ability to make good decisions.

But I was indeed naïve. Thank goodness things turned out okay, but still I shudder at how much we risked. It could have been fatal to be so trusting. What if the aliens had been different? What if we kids had all ended up as dinner or worse?

~~~~~~~~~~

The ship was only half an hour away from the planet when they woke us. I know I needed more time than that to awaken fully, but from the moment of that horrible buzzing in our ears, we were rushed and driven forward like cattle. It was as if we were on an assembly line -- food offered and rejected and the administration of that painful injection, for which we were too woozy to remember the purpose. Then we were shoved down on benches and told to wait. I'm sure every one of us slipped back into napping mode.

I will admit that the ship’s personnel were cordial -- cordial though stiff and distant. One man, a guy with a big red slash of a scar on his right cheek, took the time to give us a brief lecture. He told us that we were to make sure no one got hurt during our stay on Catagoria. Then he ordered us not to do any damage to the forests or to the cabin where we'd be staying.

“You can party like crazy,” the man added, “but when the ship’s alarms sound, there will be only a 24 hour window before departure. Be there, or miss the boat,” he warned. He went on to explain how in our return flight we’d be floating underneath several time warps in order to return on time for Spring Break's end.

The man's bushy eyebrows waggled up and down. I remembered watching them more than listening to his words, but he kept repeating everything over and over. Somehow his lecture entered into my foggy brain. I can still recall it almost word for word:

“You kids have to get it right, you know,” the old guy said. “If you miss the window, we can’t get you back in time for classes. The timing of it is essential.”

I kept nodding, trying to let him know that I understood, but I’m not sure the others were listening. In fact, as my eyes roved about, tired of staring at the lecturer’s bobbing eyebrows and that horrid, ugly scar, I surveyed the kids I'd be planet-dropping with. Their eyes were still all glazed and unfocused. Most of them were staring at the wall. I doubt they took much in. If they did, they sure gave no indication of it.

One of the medics attending us was really cute -- in a military kind of way. You know -- carefully groomed hair, uniform tightness of both body and jumpsuit. I was almost ready to stick around and try to flirt with him, but by the time I was awake enough to attempt it, he and the other spacers had already pushed us out and into the descent vehicle.

I sat where I was ordered, buckled in, sighed, and then silently waved a goodbye. The cute one didn’t respond. His rejection left me with an urgent need for a mirror. I had a sudden stab of worry that the deep sleep had messed up my hair or made me cross-eyed or something. Unfortunately the descent vehicle was totally bereft of mirrors. In fact, it had hardly anything on its sterile white walls. As I glanced about I saw only rows of students more or less my age, and robots -- dull-eyed and senseless.

The drop to the planet was luckily hardly longer than a gasp and a half, but, still we students were all moaning and retching by the time we touched down on the alien world. I suppose we might have grumbled about the speed of the ride if we hadn’t been so sick -- or if there’d been anyone to complain to. But as I said, only robots had accompanied us.

When the vehicle's ports opened, we Pubescents, as they called us Spring Breakers, stumbled out onto the planet. Most of the kids dropped down and vomited streams of putrid-smelling stomach remnants. We were all empty, though. I guess, it was a good thing we hadn’t felt like eating.

The three robots immediately powered up. They rolled toward us, picking up kids and hoisting them into strong metallic arms. I didn't want to join the heap, but no one argues with a robot. Metal claws about my arms, as well as my body's extreme fatigue, halted any spasm of revolt I might have offered.

We were carried, thus, to our destination. Not an elegant mode of transportation, for sure. All of us were so limp, the robots stacked us atop each other like bundles of dirty laundry. But even when we were finally dumped on the hard wood floor of our quarters, it was another thirty minutes before any of us could lift up a head and eye our surroundings – a pseudo log cabin, so plastic it was obvious that no Catagorian trees had been used in its construction.

But that wasn’t the significant point. I don’t know why I stopped to explain that. The most important part is that when I was finally able to look about, I discovered that we were all alone. The robots had apparently returned to the ship.

I think I was the first one to waken. I can’t say I sprang up -- more like I crawled over to the window. I was the only one to see the descent vehicle blast off. I called out to inform the others, but they were all still too dazed from deep sleep.

A minute later, someone vomited again. Several others moaned, but no one came to join me. The sickening smell of the sour stomach eject soon sent me outside, gasping for breath.

Catagoria is an air-breathing planet. Nothing on it is supposed to be dangerous. We’d been told that all large predators had been annihilated. I guess the explorers hadn’t taken notice of the Catagorians. Perhaps they'd been hibernating at the time, or more likely -- hiding. It’s my guess they just didn’t want to make their presence known.

That's why I was the first human to make contact. Alone.

Palork, he called himself. Or at least that’s as close as I’ve ever been able to say it. The Catagorians call him something else, but they rumble the sound so quickly that even after I’ve learned to speak their language, more or less, I still can’t say the name correctly. Even though I've become . . . Never mind, that part comes later. I can’t explain that yet.

First I have to describe them. Big. That’s what hits one first. Catagorians are gorilla-sized – heavy on the shoulders, arms, quads, muscles -- everywhere. In color, they’re a light-hued bronze, slightly shimmery when the moons shine down. In fact, Catagorians kind of glow in a faint light. The sun doesn’t affect them, though, except maybe to cast shadows across their bodies, making them appear to have slightly mottled skin. That's false, though, for you can't really see their skin. The Catagorians -- even the babies -- have a fine coating of fur that covers them almost everywhere -- fur that feels as soft and fuzzy as a cat’s nose.

The second thing one notices about Catagorians is that they give off a musky-smell. The odor kind of tickles, at first, but then, later, it becomes like a craving. I can’t explain that part. Maybe it’s similar to hallucinogenic drugs or like the way tobacco-addicted seniors must feel when they haven’t had enough ziggies.

~~~~~~~~~~

I should have had shaky knees at the sudden appearance of a group of aliens – large, fierce-eyed aliens, but from that very first sight, I had no fear of them. It’s not that they were smiling at me. They didn’t even raise a hand in peace. But – no way to explain it. You just have to visit Catagoria to experience the friendliness vibes the natives emit.

One of the aliens stepped forward. He came closer than the others, striding somewhat cautiously, watchfully. I waited, my heart pounding, my legs frozen, my eyes chained to his alienness.

He reached out and touched my arm. I didn’t withdraw. I welcomed the contact. In fact, oddly, without thought, I took a step forward, toward him. The alien’s eyes were somehow beckoning to me. Without the slightest intention or provocation from him, I suddenly flung myself against his body. I know that makes no sense. But that’s how it happened.

(I found out later that it was the same for all the others. Each of them made contact individually. Each of the students went willingly, cheerfully as if they’d always secretly longed to meet a Catagorian. It seems that for a human, touching a Catagorian is as inevitable as drinking water or breathing -- something done without question, without hesitation.)

Palork, the one who'd touched me, led me away from the others. I didn’t mind. I wanted to go with him. I wanted to separate from the others. What were they to me? Only strangers.

I suppose that doesn’t make sense either. All the students back in that psuedo-log cabin were at least humans, like me. Isn't like supposed to be attracted to like? But all such rules are dismantled on Catagoria. They're remade, refashioned, redesigned.

From that first moment of contact, Palork was all I cared about. He became the center of my being, my whole existence.

At first, the two of us sauntered along, side by side. We walked for a while like that, in silence, my smaller hand in his larger one, but I was still weak from lack of food and from lying in deep sleep so long. Soon, Palork picked me up and carried me. Even in his arms I felt safe. His eyes, space black with small hints of light, held a radiance of kindness, and his narrow lips issued soothing sounds, sleep-provoking coos, I guess, for I soon slipped away, back into dreamland.

When I woke, Palork was still moving forward, his long strides galloping up the miles. He cooed some more to me, in reassurance or in greeting, I think. I smiled up at him. Then I raised my hand and touched his face. The soft fur of it felt sensuous against my hand. I continued to pet him, rubbing my hand back and forth against his lower jaw.

He walked on for only a moment more, still cooing softly. Then he lowered his face and exhaled the sweetest breath. My stomach panged, but not with any hunger for food. I suddenly felt hot and cold. My breasts ached. My lower parts began to drip with longing.

As Palork stared down at me, I cupped his chin and pulled his head lower. Then I crushed my mouth against his. His nose moved to one side as if it were double-jointed. Our lips opened and greeted each other like long, lost lovers.

Palork pulled away first. His hand took hold of my chin. He was holding my body with only one arm. How could he do that? I wondered if he might drop me, but the thought didn't bother me greatly. I only worried that he wouldn't kiss me again.

Staring up into his face, I saw his eyes changing, lightening in areas. They had been black, almost totally without light, but as I watched, they brightened. I could have understood the eye differences if the alien had been a robot. Robotic eyes did exactly that as they came alive, but there was nothing robotic about Palork. Yet it was as if an inner light bulb had suddenly gotten a fresh flow of electricity.

He was staring down at me, not unfriendly-like, examining me as much as I was studying him. I wet my lips. The scent of the alien was deepening, flowering, becoming even more enticing.

His lips joined mine again. His wide, wide tongue swept into me, burying itself within the deep cavern of my mouth. That should have panicked me, but it didn’t. I sucked him harder and breathed through my nose, drinking in the delicious fragrance of him. I was barely lucid by then, drugged on the scent. My only thought was that I must get even closer to him, feel his body against mine, and enclose him inside me in the deep, wet space between my legs.

When Palork lifted away from me, I moaned. Tears sprang into my eyes. I sobbed.

“Don’t leave me,” I cried out.

He set me down on my feet and pressed me close. There’d never been any doubt in my mind that Palork was a male, but at that moment I had the direct proof. His penis bulged hard and huge. I gasped, feeling the full force of its contact.

I suppose that despite the scent of him, a scent that seemed to both calm and entice, perhaps my eyes still widened enough to display a sudden spark of fear. Palork pulled back slightly. The luminosity of his eyes glowed more fully; the white-part flared and widened.

His elongated fingers, only slightly claw-ended, reached out to stroke my hair. His fingers combing the strands pulled out my hair net. As it flew off, my locks fell free, waist-length.

Alarmed, Palork stepped back. He peered down at me, turned me about, eyed the difference. His fingers touched the hair, bounced it up and down a moment. Then he grunted and wheeled me back around. His head tilted to the right, then up, his eyes still light bulbs of brilliance.

“Smupaapalo,” he said, or something like it.

Whatever that meant, he didn’t seem to expect a reply. Once more he moved closer and pulled me tightly against him.

This time a new fragrance gushed into the air. I breathed it in and sucked air faster than was good for me. The oxygen-richness of the planet's gases gave me an over-dose of dizzy, yet I couldn’t stop wanting to inhale the lovely scent. As if it had been chocolate . . . no, more like the fragrance of morning coffee for a coffee-addict -- I wanted more and more. I wanted to drown myself in the flavor of it.

Palork picked me up again. I made no complaint. I think I was half out of my mind from the sweetness of all that delicious scent. I closed my eyes and began to sing like a drunken freshman at her first college keg party.

Palork carried me forward, no comment about my singing. We walked for miles, me singing loudly, as I hiccoughed from melody to melody. I doubt I could have walked by then. I'm sure I would have flunked a policeman's drunken driving test, unable to walk a straight line, entirely incapable of touching finger to nose.

Eventually, when my voice gave out, I opened my eyes to look around. We were passing through a heavy forest. The shade beneath the trees hadn’t entered my consciousness until that moment. I oohed and aahed with the splendor of them. The leaves waved gently in the faint breeze of afternoon, rustling like rattlesnakes -- friendly ones.

Palork soon stopped and put me down. Once more his body pressed against mine. The feel of his cock against my lower body felt even larger. I reached down to test its size, wondering if an alien rod such as his would even fit inside me.

Palork froze. His eyes turned into twin suns. His head tilted back and forth. Meanwhile, his appendage flowed with a juicy kind of eagerness.

I’d participated quite enthusiastically in both high school and college dating cycles. I’d enjoyed the sex games as much as my peers, but I’d never felt as awed as I did that moment while massaging Palork’s vibrating member. It lurched and spasmed. It pulsed. It grew harder and larger – enormous, actually.

The sounds that Palork was making through his rather smallish set of lips, only increased my hunger. His scent flowered. His fur grew softer. My knees shook. My lower lips wept in need. I knew I had to feel those spasms of fleshy hardness deep inside me.

I let go of him, stepped back, and stripped off my pants and shirt. I paused a moment to check the ground for pine needles. But it wasn't that kind of forest. Only leaves, soft leaves.

I slipped out of my shoes and socks. Then my underwear quickly joined the heap on the cushioned floor of the forest.

Palork seemed impressed. He tilted his head once, his eyes scanning my absence of fur. His hand reached out to stroke me. Just like a human’s, his very long fingers cupped and kneaded my swollen and aching orbs. I added sound effects to encourage him. Then, both of us issued moans of need.

We progressed from there most satisfyingly. Apparently, I had very much amazed Palork. I discovered later that female Catagorians don’t like to stage their intercourse during the daytime and especially not in dark, loam-scented forests. It is good that we Terrans don’t mind such things. In fact, at least that day, our location increased the overall sensory delight.

Palork’s long fingers stretched delightfully and squeezed me most endearingly. His fat, wide tongue pressed into my mouth quite nicely, and his scent sprayed out with the most maddeningly alluring odors.

I grew rabid with sexual tension. Palork’s interest was just as strong and hard – extremely hard -- for when his tongue left mine to “bathe the rest of me in readiness,” (a term I learned much later after I’d mastered his language,) he entered me with fingers, tongue, and, last of all, ecstasy. (I can’t begin to describe what a masterful organ a Catagorian male has – but then, truthfully, I can only tell you about Palork’s! I’ll leave it to the others to give more explicit details.)

But as far as I was concerned -- hard, wide, and fully scented – what else was there to say? He filled me totally, but not painfully. Having him inside me was a bit like pulling on form-fitting stretch pants -- except reversed. His cock hugged my insides, and as he slipped inside and out, slowly, rhythmically, in a torture of deliciousness, every place in my body responded -- from my toes clear up to my eyeballs. Pure sensation. Writhing completion. Cascades of melting pleasure.

Oh, did I mention that a Catagorian can engage in sexual intercourse for hour-long bouts? Needless to say, Palork and I spent a vast amount of time in the forest that day, and if anyone had been around they probably would have heard endless screams of pleasure, for each dip vibrated and bucked with spasms – his and mine. Stars! I saw so many of them, felt them, savored their shine and their incredible novas -- why it could have been the Fourth of July! Independence Day a la Catagoria!

Finally too exhausted to continue, I begged for mercy. Palork made a noise, one more a coo than a laugh, yet I recognized its nature. Despite his amusement, he stopped the moment I requested it.

We snuggled then, me against his furry chest where I kept blowing skin spots and planting kisses. (Cuddling with a Catagorian is ALMOST as delightful as the erotic events that come before it!)

Palork and I remained in the forest over a month and a half (Terran time, not Catagorian time.) Then, only after we’d become “solidly entwined” as a Catagorian couple, we returned to the others. The males all gathered round and welcomed me into their fold, but several of the females glared at me with midnight blackness in their eyes as if they'd secretly hoped to win Palork for themselves.

Thankfully, since Catagorians are basically non-aggressive, the females eventually accepted me. (Palork, after all, gave them little alternative, and he was quite fiercely protective until they finally capitulated.)

Oh, one thing I really should explain is that some of the Spring Break students had gotten off on the wrong foot, so to speak. All the females bonded beautifully, but the males – well, they had to be taken back to the city for an exchange of potential bonding mates. Unfortunately, though, even when they were attached to females, none of the human males found the perfect partner. Not that they weren't given many different opportunities. The females flocked about them -- dripping with eagerness.

Of course the human males aren't unhappy about the fact they've found no permanent partners. Even today, they continue to enjoy their vast popularity. Palork believes that in time the men will also bond. I hope he’s right, for Palork has told me that there is an added boost in bonded pairing -- more flow of scent and extra stars of delight. Meanwhile, as I said, the male students remain quite content.

Perhaps you're wondering why none of us students have ever returned to Earth. There is little mystery about that. We just don’t want to.

When our time on the planet was over, the Terran ship returned to Catagoria. It gave several huge blasts of warning then sent down the descent vehicle. For weeks after that, the speaker system continued to broadcast messages -- much longer than they'd said the window was -- but we humans all ignored the calls. Finally, the ship sent out robots to hunt for us. Then they sent the ship's personnel. To avoid being found, we students all climbed down into the deeper caverns where the Catagorian oldsters and most children live. There we hid and waited for the ship’s eventual departure.

Unfortunately, our mates didn’t come with us. They wanted to keep on eye on the ship and its crew. Deprived of both scent and touch, we pined for our bonded ones. The hue of our skin grew sallow, our hair grew limp, our eyes turned red. We lost our appetites, and our bodies felt ill.

The male students also hid with us, but they grew snippy and restless. They paced non-stop. They growled and hissed like mad men. Strangely, we couldn’t stand to remain in their presence, nor they in ours.

When the ship finally departed, we were all free once more. Our mates came for us. They led us upward. The reunions that followed were celebrations of great joy.

Palork and I returned to the deep forest where we’d first pledged our love. We stayed under the trees for many months, hunting when we hungered, sleeping in the soft, rich, dark earth, making love, and learning more of each other’s language.

It was there Palork and I discovered that a union between humans and Catagorians is fertile. Impossible, you’ll say, and I won’t argue with you. It does seem biologically out of the question.

But still our baby grows inside me, large now as a Catagorian Cata -- that small gray animal for which the Terrans named this planet. Palork says our son, Terra, will be born at the moment when the five moons are at Impass. I believe him. He knows many things I do not yet understand.

Will Terra be clothed in soft fur, bronze as a cast metal sculpture, or will he be naked-skinned -- as Palork calls us? Palork assures me that it doesn’t matter. He says the Catagorians think we furless ones are beautiful. They love to touch our skin and to feel the smoothness of our brown, tan, or pink skins. I am glad that is so. I am glad that Terra will be born from our interspecies love.

I must add that I have no plans to ever return to school. I suppose I'll never become a City Planner, as I'd intended -- at least not on Earth, anyway. Here on Catagoria, where Spring Break lasts forever, anything is possible.

Absolutely anything.


xxxxxx

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4,362 words