THE SPACE LOTTERY
By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
Jefferson Kirby looked about the mess hall and wondered what the hell he'd been thinking when he signed up for this disaster! Working a mine was rough work even back on old Earth herself! Working it on another planet was worse, and on a planet where you couldn't even breathe the air was...horrible! You didn't ever get out of the mine, as it were, you came up the shaft and into a crawler that hauled you to a dome where you were shoved in tight with the same men you'd been working with all day (they worked three shifts of ten hours duration, you were on for ten and off for twenty and never a weekend off and no town to go get blind drunk in even if you'd had a day off, which you didn't). You had a bunk to sleep in and about that much free space to stand or sit in when you weren't sleeping, and then it was back down into the mines. There were ten men on his shift, and he was so fucking tired of looking at them, listening to them, eating and sleeping with them and hearing their snores and farts unceasingly, all the time!
Not only that, there were fifty or more of the Vendi in the mess hall as well. Hell, you can't even tell them apart, they all looked alike! The same ghostly pale-white skin, the same large black eyes with no pupils in them, no nose, and no teeth in that small mouth, with the same slender bodies that weren't quite human-shaped, with the elbows and knees that bent the wrong way and had an extra joint in the arms and legs as well. Not longer legs and arms, just more jointed. They were capable miners as they could get down on arms and legs and sidle along at a rapid pace like large white spiders. They jibbered away in their own language among each other (they understood English and could spout simple words and sentences) and kept to themselves. They weren't eating, here, they were just gathered around in a crowd, like they were waiting for something.
And if that weren't enough, in came the other two shifts. It was mid-work shift for one of them and mid-sleep time for the other, but here they all came, the sleep shift wearing only their underwear, briefs or boxers and nothing else. Yawning, but present, scratching themselves in intimate places, God, Jeff could smell their rankness from here! Some of the miners didn't wash themselves very often, even though the mine water tanks held more than enough to let everyone stay clean as they wanted to be. Water wasn't a problem on this world, there was plenty of water ice (mixed with ammonia and methane, yes, but water was over 40% of the ice pack) on this planet for everyone. They could install a swimming pool in their recreation dome if they'd had enough room for one!
The central pillar of the mess hall was an open frame, a pedestal making it an impromptu stage. Jeff had watched from one of these tables during his initial orientation when he'd gotten here. The bosses must want to talk to everyone.
The head boss, a man named Edward Carnovan, called out, "All right, guys, it's time for you all for the weekly lottery drawing. One whole week of being off shift and just lying around! If you don't have your work number memorized, pull out your card and be ready to answer, I don't want to have to holler over and over here!"
Jeff hadn't had any reason to memorize his work number, the card worked like a credit card at the local "store" and let him buy things and charge it against his accumulated payday (the store didn't gouge him, he had to admit, once you factored in the high cost of delivering every blessed thing by spaceship over twenty-six light years or more), but that was his only occasion to use the thing. He pulled it out and wasn't the only one by any means, a third or more of the men had done the same. So had the bosses, he noted, only Mr. Carnovan seemed to not be part of the lottery. Thirty-five men (twelve men on each shift, one man was missing) waited for him to call out the numbers. "Eighteen, twenty-seven, fourteen." he said.
Jeff looked at his card and couldn't believe it. "That's me, that's me!" he hooted in a vast sense of relief! An entire week, with pay, to lounge about and do whatever he wanted! He might get bored in a hurry, but there was always some people in the recreation dome, he could get to know the other shift miners, play cards and watch entertainments. And he'd be surrounded by new faces, at least.
"Jefferson Kirby, get over here!" Mr. Carnovan called. "You are the latest winner!"
Beaming broadly, Jeff went up to claim his prize and saw everyone was calling and cheering for him. "Hey, good for you, Kirby!" one man from his shift called. "Hope you can stand up to it!"
"Give em all you got, Kirby!" another man from his shift called out to him.
"Hey, I intend to drink near-beer and sleep a lot!" Jeff told them. He regretted the lack of alcohol somewhat, but didn't depend upon it like so many men did.
"I don't think you'll be getting a whole lot of sleep, Kirby!" one of the men from another shift hooted. "I know I didn't when I won last month!"
"Hey, you loved every minute of it!" a friend of the man's said.
"Not as much as they did!" the man responded to general laughter.
Mr. Carnovan saw the bemusement on Jeff's face and said, "I guess you don't know about the lottery yet, do you?"
Jeff shook his head. "No, sir, just what you said. A week off from work."
"Well, Kirby, you are off from work all right, you won't be going down the shaft. What you'll be doing is hanging with the off-shift Vendi. From now until the next week's drawing."
"With the Vendi?" Jeff was appalled! Hell, he barely tolerated the weird little aliens! Off the six intelligent alien races the human race had encountered in their five hundred years of interstellar travel, the Vendi were the least human of the group! He could get along with the Exedin, he liked the Jollitt and the Fifferfiffen well enough, he was even friends with a few of the Cor and the Mim'mum'm'mum'm, but the Vendi, those spindly, spidery, gibbering things...ugh! "Sir, can't I refuse the lottery?"
"If you'll check your work contract, Kirby, you'll find that it's covered in the provisions about non-classified work."
So this wasn't a vacation at all! Just a "non-classified job!" That covered anything that was essential to the functioning of the mine, but for which a proper classification-qualified worker wasn't available. Shit! Some jobs were dangerous, he could die on a non-classified job out of ignorance!
"So what do I got to do?" he asked, worried.
"Just go with them and let them do what they want with you, is all." Mr. Carnovan said soothingly, and with his right hand, he waved the Vendi toward Jeff!
The jibbering white forms surrounded him and he was led off, to the calls and hoots and noises of the men. Whatever he was about to have to deal with, they all thought it was funny as hell! At least it didn't sound dangerous!
The small aliens (they were as tall as a human, but about half the mass) were clustering about Jeff as best they could, their hands were playing over his body from all angles, the clutching fingers of the Vendi threatened to trip him, even! "Hey, hey, let me get to your dome first!" he chided them. He'd never seen the inside of the Vendi dome, these freaks didn't have any bunks, just a large soft area that covered the entire floor all over. There were shelves and lockers around the walls all around, and not a single porthole to let them see outside. Jesus, the place was worse than the bunkrooms! At least there, he could crawl into his bunk and draw the privacy screen down. Flimsy as it was, it cut him visibly off from the others (oh, not their sounds and not their smells, emphatically not their smells), but it gave the effect of privacy at least.
"All right, all right, I'm in here!" Jeff grunted. "You got me for an entire week, already. What do you want to do with me first?"
The Vendi hands were all over him, he hardly noticed that they were busily unfastening his clothing until they started stripping it from him. He started to protest, but gave it over. The Vendi were as sexually neutral as any race could get, they didn't have male or female as the human race understood it. Whyever they wanted him nude, it didn't have anything to do with a plan to rape him. And what else mattered?
The pressure of their fingers urged rather than pushed him onto the floor. The mattress was as soft as any human's bed, a bit firmer perhaps, but nothing more. He lay down with the Vendi pushing about him, and he looked up into a sea of their oval (horizontal oval, not vertical) faces, with the all-black pupils like smaller pointed-tipped ovals inside them, the mouths moving as they jibbered in a non-stop conversation. Jeff had heard that the Vendi carried on a constant communication among themselves, not only talking to each other, but ferrying the conversations of further away comrades on to comrades beyond the verbal reach of the speakers. A web of constant communication, it would have driven a human crazy if it had been in English. Even now, it was a drumming sort of sound that was nearly white noise, for his ear couldn't tell which Vendi was saying what in all this.
Their hands were playing over his body, a body toned not only by hard labor in the mines (even though there were ample machines, so much of working in mines involves physical labor even as human starships traverse the skies), but by studious regular workouts in the recreation dome. The Vendi were fascinated by his body, now that they had him nude, they not only played their hands over him, but were leaning down and working their prehensile tongues on him as well. The tongues were slightly raspy, not hard as sandpaper, but like a soft washcloth well soaped up, it still caused his body to feel every tongue as a separate, distinct sensation on his body.
He was discovering under their tongues points of sexual excitation on his body he'd never known he had. Behind his ears, for example, and along the edges of his armpits at the fold of flesh between his chest and arms, he'd never known how little those points had been touched before, and now that they were being touched, with lithe, adroit, experienced tongues, they were reacting with a rush of pleasure he'd never felt before!
Nude, stimulated as he was, of course he got an erection! Small wonder, he hadn't beat his meat for almost four days and he was a "twice a day" man under normal circumstances. He could masturbate inside his bunk with the privacy screen down, but all too often, his workmates would realize what he was doing and he'd have to endure raucous calls and suggestions about how he should "whack it, Jeff, whack it good!" Mortifying, even if the others did similar things, sometimes at the very same time. One man, known only as "Montana," seemed to wait for such events and would "join in" and give loud verbal reports about how things were going with him, like it was a game between buddies, who could squirt first! Try listening to that while you jerk off and see how that screws with your head!
So his cock began to rise up and that was when he heard it. The "white noise" of their jibbering stopped being random and started in being a coordinated sound! They were chanting something. What the hell was this?
He began to realize that those tongues had worked some sort of drug into his body! He was feeling somewhat woozy, somewhat antsy, and a lot of sheer, raw horniness! His cock was beyond erect, it was throbbing and weeping precome copiously!
And suddenly, his cock was wrapped with Vendi tongues! Not just one, but several of them, they were lapping off his precome, but also coordinating their movements to jerk his prod in a way that was better by far than a blowjob or a tight pussy ever thought of being! Imagine a tube being slid over your cock, tight enough to hold you firmly, and then imagine every part of that tube being flexed independently, a hundred thousand tiny bumps that were coordinated to inspire maximum pleasure! That was what those tongues were doing to him!
"Oh, crap, is that what you wanted from me? Someone to give a tongue-job?"
"Yes, we please you often." one of the Vendi responded to his question, though he hadn't expected an answer. "We please you over and over again, all the time."
"Great galloping galaxies!" moaned Jeff. "And this is a job requirement?"
"This is why we work with you, yes." the Vendi replied. "So it is requirement."
Jeff was well beyond caring what the answer was. "All right then, come on and keep those tongues busy!"
The Vendi didn't need him to tell them that, they were practically lapping every part of his body, their limits were only how many of them could crowd around him at any one moment. He couldn't bear it, his climax came roaring at him with the speed of an interstellar missile, it rammed into him at a speed near that of light itself and he groaned, exploded hard and hot and fast! Hot white jets of his spunk flew hard and high, and as it did, the Vendi released him and they nearly fought among themselves for the right to capture it as it landed on him, on each other and in mid-air once or twice if he saw them right. Only those actually wrapped around his tongue didn't let up, not even when he finished squirting and the last dregs dripped down to run over those tongues. A brief release as they lapped those pearls into their bodies.
And Jeff figured, well, that's that and started to get up. But the bodies kept pressing about him and they began to lap at him again. He got as far as on his hands and knees, and that was when the Vendi started finding fresh areas to excite on his body. A tongue went into his ass, all the way in, deep inside, and the tongue tickled his prostate gland, crushing him with waves of ecstasy. He laid his head down on his forearms, exposing more of his buttocks to those talented tongues. That one in his anus was driving him insane! And a second one added itself to the first. Now his prostate was getting twin twiddling! No, three! Four? Shit, this was getting as thick as a cock! The tongues wove around each other until they were a solid shaft of flesh, and now they were behaving as a cock would, he was getting fucked by the Vendi! He suddenly felt positive that this was how they had sex, sticking those tongues into each other's orifices in some manner. Hell, did the Vendi have orifices? Other than those mouths? He didn't even know how, or if, they ate!
No matter, the driving shaft of Vendi tongues were driving him to another orgasm. Already! The chemicals the Vendi saliva was sluicing over his body were making it as powerful as the first! He began to realize why the men at this jobsite considered the lottery a matter of winning! An entire week of this. How often would they make him come? Every hour? Half hour? Could he keep it up, even with their help?
He sprayed the Vendi mattress with his spunk and the diving heads towards his splatter knocked him upwards and away from the floor. Vendi arms caught him and held him semi-erect while they began to ply over him again. Jeff just slumped into their hold and surrendered. Let them suck him over and over again. Let their tongue-cock drive into him unendingly! When one of them send its tongue toward his mouth (they'd avoided his face to this point, though they had plied his ears and scalp and neck heavily), he opened and let it slide in. They wanted to swap spit with him, that was damned fine with him. The Vendi tongue tasted like sugar-cured meat, the fluid it exuded as saliva held a copper-like flavor, and not salty-tasting at all.
He lost all track of time. The Vendi came and went, shift changes. There were hundreds of Vendi on the jobsite, far outnumbering the human complement, and they didn't hesitate to dive in and take the places of the ones who had to go out and work. Jeff was allowed to sleep only fitfully, he woke again and again to those tongues rousing him to another ejaculation. He lost track of his climaxes, as well, he'd dreamily counted them at first, and lost track around the midpoint, and the count had been approaching a hundred.
At long, long, long last, the marathon of sex-duty was over and Jeff staggered out of the Vendi domes into the care of the staff nurse. They tucked him into a bunk in the infirmary and let him get some much-needed sleep.
From there, it was back to the grind. He found to his mortification that he was matched up on a tractor with Montana and a round dozen of the Vendi. Montana grilled him on his experience, which annoyed him until he learned Montana had been through it for the first time himself a mere few weeks before. "You want to work in space, you got to learn to roll with the punches. Hell, sometimes, you find you like the new way better than the old."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean we're driving this tractor to a new site, it's going to be a half hour on the road."
"Yeah."
"So why not make some personal use out of this time?"
And from the compartments under their seats, which opened, came out two Vendi.
"Unzip it and get a little fun while the miles roll by." Montana advised. He was unfastening his pants and the Vendi eagerly grabbed his cock as soon as it was exposed, and the tongue began to ply over his dong (which was a huge man-organ!) with ecstatic abandon.
Jeff hesitated, then unzipped his own pants. After all, with thirty-five men in each drawing, it was going to be a long time before he won the lottery again.
THE END
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E-mail the Author at Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM