Irkutsk Ch 25

Happy 2015! This will be the last chapter of

Irkutsk

. I had no idea when I started this story over a year ago (well before the first installment was posted) that it would take my characters through quite the experiences you have read about. To those of you who have enjoyed reading this tale (even those who have enjoyed it just a little), I thank you for your support, whether by feedback or by adding to my hits. I know my imagination and/or my writing style are not to everyone's liking and I am pleased that words have fallen in part upon good ground.

For those who represent the stony or thorny ground, who did not enjoy the story, I say thank you for visiting, and I hope you find elsewhere what you sought here. I, too, found stories on this site that I did not like, but I also found some genuine diamonds.

For those who did not enjoy this story, but who persisted in reading chapter after chapter and continued to tell me that it was not to their taste, I can only refer to Albert Einstein's famous quote about insanity being defined as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.

Thank you again to all my readers.

*****

It was the day we were due to cross the equator. I had done this before by ship, and I knew something of the shenanigans that went on. I had discussed it with the Captain, and he had told me we would all be unharmed, except perhaps for our dignity. I then spoke to my Ladies as a group. Most of them had never crossed the line by sea, and they were keen to be treated like any other "pollywogs" or first-timers of the maritime equator.

We had fallen into the habit of sharing meals with the few other passengers on board and those crew not actually on duty, and we were finishing off our dinner. I knew we were scheduled to cross the line just after 7.30 pm, and it was now 7.35. Everything seemed normal on the surface, but I knew my Ladies were a little apprehensive about what was to come. We had been told not to wear good clothes. And then it happened. Two of the senior officers walked up and stood behind me, one each side.

They grabbed my arms and lifted me roughly to my feet. I was frogmarched to the low stage at the front of the dining room, where my shoes, pants and shirt were removed, and I was dressed instead in a grass skirt, a bra made of two half coconuts, and my head was covered with a wig made of dried seaweed. It smelled a little, but not too bad. A weird set of fins ibn the shape of a fishtail was attached to my feet, effectively hogtying me, and I was given a trident and a (real) dead fish to hold.

One member of the crew (the Bosun, I later learned) bowed to me and spoke some words I could not understand, except the single word "Neptune". He put a bucket in front of me, and picked up a piece of wet seaweed out of it, draping it over me saying in English, "Hail, Son of Neptune!"

One by one, everyone in the room followed suit, until my fish, my trident and especially myself were dripping and smelling of seaweed.

Then seven other passengers were arrested as I had been. It was interesting to see that Tina, Astra and Chris were among them, along with four other passengers. Everyone knew that Tina and Astra (at least) could easily have resisted their arrests, and I thought perhaps Chris could too. However, they meekly went along with the game. They too had "wreaths" of seaweed placed on their heads. These were clearly Neptune's attendants.

Seven of the crew danced a strange dance around me, then took my seven attendants, making it clear that they were to follow suit. The fourteen then took fourteen of the others, and twenty eight were dancing around me to strange sounds that started over the PA. Then more and more, until everyone except the Captain was dancing like idiots around me. I felt half honoured and half ridiculed. In some weird way they balanced each other out. The Captain was wearing a very solemn expression, and waving his hands around as if conducting the strange goings-on.

After a while a conga line started. Several crew members left the dance, and two formed an arch, lowering the booms every now and then to capture a victim. Others brought each victim before me, and indicated that I should choose with my trident whether they should go right or left. Those I sent to the right were given a certificate and escorted back to their seats.

Slava was the first I sent to the left, and I noticed that she, and then others I sentenced the same way, were sprayed with a bright green liquid and then assisted the crew, bringing yet more victims to me.

It was not until I had sent three or four victims to be sprayed and the main lights dimmed and a black light strobe started, that I realised the paint was fluorescent. These selected victims glowed intermittently in the dark. And for the fraction of a second each time the black light flashed, Slava's tattooed clothes vanished and she was revealed as naked. Two crew members quickly caught on and brought her a grass skirt and coconut "bra" like mine, and she was respectable again.

Eventually the dance came to an end, and the Captain spoke to us in a very formal voice, telling us in English and then in some strange made-up language that we had all passed the test and were qualified nautical equatorials, or Shellbacks. Certificates were given to those who hadn't already received them, and we all had a good laugh and slowly dispersed. One of the crew members approached me with a wink and gave me a portable light. I switched it on for a moment and it flashed with a black light. I got the message and smiled at him, and he vanished.

Two crew members then removed all the wet seaweed and my dry seaweed wig along with the fish. Then another four crew members lifted me bodily while the Captain removed the fishtail.

Several of my Ladies lifted my "throne" with me still on it, and walked me out of the dining room, bumping my head on the doorway in the process.

As we returned to our cabins, I noticed Slava removing her grass skirt and bra, returning her (in the absence of flashing lights) to her usual appearance. But I had the portable light.

We squeezed into our shared lounge, and Hana took the black light from me and switched it on, placing it on top of a cupboard so it illuminated the while room. She then dimmed the main lights. Slava stood in the middle of the room, glowing naked one moment and wearing jeans and tee-shirt the next. The rest of us stood around, appreciating the erotic nature of the unusual show.

I was squeezed in among the other ladies, and I noticed hands on me. They were undressing me...and at the same time removing the last shreds of seaweed. Soon I was naked and gradually pushed towards Slava as she started a slow sexy dance. I would have called it a striptease except that she was already naked, and except that she wasn't teasing. On reflection it was nothing like a striptease!

In no time I was ready for her, and Slava addressed her dance to my readiness. She started to incorporate stroking my arms and sides into her movements, and slowly moved closer until those alternately luminous breasts were brushing against my shoulders, my ears, my lips...

Suddenly she pushed me onto my back and slid down onto me. The glowing nakedness continued to alternate with her looking (but not feeling) dressed. It was the ultimate dream sequence, and I have to admit that I lasted all of thirty seconds before emptying my seed into her.

Except that I wasn't finished. I was still finishing minutes later, as were all my ladies. And again, despite my improving fitness flowing on from my new lifestyle, I was the first to reach my limits. I simply went to sleep, a sleep in which I was being used by a glowing mermaid - fortunately one who was anatomically complete. I have no idea whether I continued to be used in my sleep. I wouldn't have minded and I would certainly have been safe.

I awoke the next morning from dreams of living in an underwater palace, miraculously free from the need for air. Lines of mermaids had swum past, from the anorexic to those with grotesquely huge breasts. They had my Ladies' faces, which seemed even more miraculous. Any one that I looked at would swim down and impale herself upon me for a few moments until another caught my eye. As happens sometimes with dreams, I awoke with no idea how I managed sex with these mermaids, because their lower halves were all fish with no human parts. In any case I remembered the enjoyment of what I shared with them.

I was quite disoriented when I opened my eyes. At first this was because I had forgotten how to breathe air. My automatic reflexes solved this problem with no help from me. Then I saw my three rescuers sitting by the bed, very demurely dressed in loose white calf-length dresses, with high collars. Astra and Tina had their hair up in buns: Dominika didn't have enough to put in a bun. Their poses too were virginal, hands folded in their laps and heads bowed slightly. Had I awoken not only from my underwater dream, but also my Ladies' dream, to a Quaker's world now?

Astra looked up when she heard me stirring. "Your body will be ours to torture at sundown, which the Captain tells me is about 6pm. Until then we are your respectable maids, waiting to serve your every wish ... but one." I decided I could cope with that, for one day. If I had to manage without sex for a few hours it was kind of them to refrain from stirring up my passions, so easily moved by these perfect specimens of womanhood, by flaunting their bodies.

I felt rested and completely recuperated for the first time from my most recent kidnapping and escape from Russia. (I didn't consider my capture in the crossing the line ceremony as a real kidnapping!) I suggested that we go for a walk around the boat and then they could be my personal trainers in a little gentle exercise.

If we're to be your personal trainers, our first responsibility is to get some fuel into you. Breakfast!

I have never been a fan of the idea of muesli and yoghurt for breakfast - I am more a bacon and eggs man, as you will have read in this story. But, I had seen my Ladies' spectacular physiques, so clearly they knew how to build great bodies, so perhaps they might know how to fix my disaster area. And in any case, I had handed over to them the responsibility for training me, so I felt that I had to follow their instruction.

I followed them to the kitchen and sat down while they worked their magic. After ten minutes they brought me a plate of ... bacon and eggs and what looked like a milk shake. I looked up enquiringly and was told that I might as well get some calories into me - they would work off that much and more in the gym.

"...and tonight." Astra added very quietly, with a faint smile.

Clearly my trainers had already had their breakfast - they had probably been up since five, downed their protein shakes and done two hours of hard exercise. I was hoping this type of attitude might transfer itself to me by some form of osmosis.

"Not osmosis," Tina said, "...once we get you past a certain level you will start to get a high from the exercise." It was going to take me a while to get used to them listening in on me. This was the first time any of them had read any specific word from my thoughts, rather than a general idea. I wondered if I was eventually going to lose my identity in my Ladies. Given my inherently female sexual experience two days ago, perhaps that was already happening.

A wave of love suddenly overwhelmed me. I can describe it no other way. I looked up at my three companions, and none of them had moved except that they were looking, or to be more correct gazing, at me. "It's not that bad being one with us all is it?"

I knew none of them had spoken, but as one they had conveyed the message as accurately as if they had emailed it into my head.

"No, but it will take some time to get used to. I have a lifetime of prejudices to overcome."

I hadn't spoken either, but I knew they had heard what I had said.

If you had been watching me eat my breakfast with three apparently very respectable Ladies wordlessly watching me, you would have thought we were not on speaking terms. In fact, we were conversing much more efficiently without using our voices.

I finished my breakfast and placed the plate, knife fork and mug into the dishwasher. We all stood and walked out the door to walk briskly around the ship five times. One Lady beside me and two behind. They changed their positions regularly, as smoothly as cyclists in a peloton, but I remained in the front left position.

We were walking at a pace I knew I could not maintain for five full circuits, but after the third circuit my legs felt great, and I was not even starting to get out of breath. This was a more dramatic change than could be explained merely by my improving fitness. "Were the Ladies now able to take the lactic acid out of my legs and replace the CO

2

in my lungs with O

2

?", I thought sarcastically to myself.

The fact that I received an answer should not have been a surprise. "No, but we have done some work on your perception of such things. It is your awareness of these limitations that prevents you from causing yourself injury, but we are closely monitoring these indicia in you and are able to take you closer to the limit without causing you any damage. We can also measure and assist your recovery after exercise. We recently considered all this as a possibility and decided it was worth a try. I spoke to your three companions today about putting our ideas into action as a test. It looks promising. If it continues to work, we can use the technique to accelerate your progress to fitness.

There was no voice to recognise, but somehow I detected the personality of Yulia. I looked at my companions. They were grinning sheepishly. Were they trying not to look smug? I smiled at them and their smiles broadened. They had given me a surprise gift and wanted me to appreciate it. I certainly did appreciate it; in my experience as people age many factors gets in the way of the care they should give to their own bodies in areas such as fitness, health and hygiene. And after many years of this the resultant deterioration sometimes causes us to lose hope and abandon the effort altogether. For years now I had been observing these changes in myself. I had known I needed to take action to reverse them. Instead, however, I had chosen to focus on other shorter-term priorities.

So, I had already noticed my physical capacity improving and my excess weight reducing with the greater activity levels my Ladies had encouraged. Their support had now taken on a new dimension.

In no time we had finished our laps and headed for the gym. Here to my performance had improved. During the cooldown after twenty minutes on various machines I was very tired.

My three companions for the day took me for a shower. As they washed me Astra explained that this was intentional. Rest was a vital part of a fitness program and fatigue was important for proper rest. My Ladies gently toweled me down, then took turns to provide a very long and completely unsexy massage. Unsexy? Yes, I wondered if my Ladies were able to direct my thoughts away from lust, even while I was thinking about the subject. Again, Yulia responded, confirming that while my body was preparing for a further sexual episode, and even while I was discussing such an idea, libido had been factored out of my mindset for the present.

That was convenient but worrying concept. These Ladies could mentally castrate me if they wished. It was unnerving to consider one's libido as being vulnerable to manipulation by others.

This time Tina answered. "We could have permanently ended your libido and indeed your life completely at any time you have been with us. We have not done so for a range of reasons even apart from common decency. We love you. You are one of us - you are, in fact, the most complete, the most essential "Lady" of us all. It is very important to us that you are happy. And your capacity to fulfil our sexual needs is very important to each of us.

"You have managed, somehow, to be the man that each of us needs, wants, longs for. Our sexual needs are every bit as important to us as all those other wonderful, impossible things you have done for us and continue to do for us.

"And perhaps it will help you to know that all three of us also needed to have the help of our friends in controlling our lust for the day."

Of course. The question had been unworthy. I wouldn't have spoken it, but merely thinking it was enough to broadcast it to my Brigade. I didn't really want to try to censor my thoughts, even if that were somehow possible.

And Tina answered that one too. "We are all still coming to terms with the unspoken thoughts read unsent and unsought from each other's minds. We need to develop a new etiquette for something that society has not had to manage before. We have the advantage that we all love each other. Just trust us to understand that your thoughts, which you have grown up regarding as your own, have become public within our Brigade, just as ours have." Suddenly we were all holding hands. We would have been hugging, but I could feel the control from our friends restraining us from anything even bordering on the amorous.

I thought back and remembered in the last week or so having random unexpected thoughts cross my mind. These must have been other Ladies' thoughts, most of which I had tuned out automatically, even though I had been able to receive messages from them when it was important. I began to understand the term "new etiquette". Tina silently added that my input into that new etiquette would be important, as I came from a country with very different customs.

We were still holding hands. I was now comfortable and confident that our family would have new challenges to meet, but we had amongst us the resources to meet them. I relaxed into the nonsexual intimacy that was my extended massage from three experts.

I am a little embarrassed to say this, but I lost two hours of my life then. Quite now much was being massaged and how much was just resting I cannot say, but I awoke, naked but covered by a towel, after what at my age I might have to describe as a "nanna nap". It was now about midday and my three friends were lying (fully dressed) one on either side of me and another in an armchair nearby. I lay there for a few minutes enjoying the closeness, but decided I needed to get up and do something.

I stood up and dressed quickly. I felt full of energy. My three companions got up and we went out to see what was happening. No-one was to be seen. Everyone else must have been struck down with the same lassitude that I had experienced.

We wandered up to the pool on the sundeck, where we enjoyed the combination of a cool breeze and warm sun. But it didn't quite seem right to be around the pool fully dressed, and it seemed unwise to be undressing right now under the circumstances. We drifted forwards to see where we were headed, and the Officer of the Day saw us and invited us onto the bridge. We had been there before on that first day, but it was different now we were at sea and under way.

The view from the bridge was outstanding, as you would expect. We were in the coral sea, not that we could see any coral, just sparkling blue water for miles around. We asked the OoD what he did. His only responsibility was to be there in case anything went wrong.

He was an older man (about my age!) and had been at sea on and off for over thirty years. We sat and chatted with him for a long while, him telling stories of things that happened at sea, and in port. I was curious about the stories of a "girl in every port". He was married himself with just the one wife in Chile. He said that with a straight face and it seemed believable. However, years ago he had known some crew members in some ships who had had two, and in one case three "wives" in different ports. At one time early in his career he had himself run to two girlfriends in different cities for a short period, although that was merely starting one relationship the afternoon before he advised the previous partner that the relationship was ended. However, in recent years that was not the case. "Wives expect some sort of support these days, and it is too expensive to make any sort of contribution for a "wife" you see for a maximum of perhaps one or two weeks per year. It is cheaper to ... er ... pay per hour." he said with a sideways look at my companions.