On my 24th birthday—the age of release, as we call it—I left Berniyoe, never to return. Girls had two options: become breeder to a Lord, or go out into the galaxy. Breeders were generally treated well—it is a sacred duty after all—although that depended to some degree on the Lord you agreed to. A lot of girls jumped at the chance for a secure existence. But I knew I would never be satisfied with that life. There were so many planets, so many beings, so much to see and do and feel. I had made up my mind years ago, so when my release came, I was on the first ship I could find.
It wasn't much, a slow bulk freighter that did a decent side business in no-frills passenger service. The first time we made the jump, I felt like I wanted to die. Still to this day it's completely and utterly disorienting, and while I've managed to not vomit recently, the nausea is always intense. But there aren't a lot of other options if you want to travel from system to system.
I'd never wanted a job, really. And there are plenty to be had, especially with a little training. Pilot, navigator, engineer, loader, gun, any number of things were available for those looking to spend their lives on the move. I'd always chafed at direction, though, and couldn't see myself working for anyone else. Call it a character flaw if you want. I don't. Anyway, I knew from early on that I was left with two options: use my body to earn credits, or use my wits. I chose the latter. Specifically, I'd taught myself to be a pretty decent thief. I know how to not be seen, as much as that's possible, and there aren't many kinds of locks, mechanical or electronic, that I can't get through. Alarms are a joke, by and large, except in the rare cases when you're dealing with a serious top-flight security system, and those I just avoid. I don't need a big score, just enough to get by.
Now, don't get me wrong. Using my body would have been alright, too. Berniyoeans can command a solid price on the open market. We have a unique body chemistry that amplifies sexual pleasure for our partners. We're not the only species that can boast of that, but we are the most numerous—not to mention that most of the other species that have that particular trait aren't exactly attractive to what you would call humanoids, which make up a fair majority of the space-faring species. Berniyoeans, on the other hand, are widely regarded as exceptionally beautiful.
Our own pleasure, however, is another story. It's not that we don't enjoy sex. But it's extremely difficult for us to achieve orgasm. It takes many hours—sometimes even days—of constant stimulation and intercourse. In fact, until you became a breeder, most girls never get that far. I never had. Since it was illegal for girls to breed with anyone other than a Lord, and illegal for Lords to breed with anyone but breeders, there wasn't a whole lot of time spent on sex anyway. Guys knew you weren't going to let them come (illegal pregnancies were punishable by death), so they weren't much inclined to spend the time making you come. And masturbating for that long was pretty much out of the question.
Some years before I was born, an intrepid Berniyoean who had traveled to the far western edge of the galaxy had returned with a few Earthlings. Earth was known, of course, but as Earthlings had only taken the most rudimentary of steps into space, they weren't part of the general galactic intercourse (no pun intended). But this traveler had made a very interesting discovery: some Earthlings had the same effect on us that we had on everyone else. That is, they heightened our sexual response, and quite drastically, such that we would orgasm within minutes, and frequently thereafter. Since then, many humans had been abducted and brought to Berniyeo. Females, mostly, which were used by the Lords for their pleasure. The effect this was having on our reproductive rate as a species was a problem, however, as Lords spent less time with their breeders and more time with their Earthlings. (It's tempting to call them captives, because that's what they were, but, after a night with a Berniyoean, they'd never want to leave.)
None of this was widely known; the Lords kept the information to themselves, for obvious reasons. I'd routinely broken into our local manor estate, however, and had gradually pieced the story together from various sources. Once I'd even laid my hands on an Earthling, and just from that touch I got the same feeling as being fucked.
All that is to say that my first planned destination was Earth. I wanted an Earthling to call my own, to accompany me in my travels around the galaxy. So, after hopping a couple of other ships, I wound up on a high-speed pleasure cruiser that had the Sol system on its itinerary.
I'd bribed the captain (well, ok, I'd mouthed him to orgasm) to let me port down to Earth, with the promise he'd be back in eight cycles. And so my hunt began. Unfortunately, as best as I understood it, only about one-quarter of one-percent of Earthlings carried the genetic mutation that allowed them to synergize with us. So I'd targeted a high-density area, apparently called Chicago. While we can smell those that have the mutation, we have to be pretty close to do so. My other problem was my appearance. While we are roughly the same size and shape as Earthlings, although a bit taller on average, our skin is quite different. We come in a variety of hues, though the most common are blue, purple, pink, and gold, and most of us sparkle to some degree. I'm actually quite a rare color; my skin tone is a shiny black with no sparkle. In any case, I was going to stand out pretty noticeably among the Earthlings.
I ported down at night, keeping myself covered with loose-fitting clothes but staying to the shadows as much as possible anyway. This had the unfortunate effect of keeping me away from crowds, where I stood a better chance of finding what I was looking for. Night turned into day, and I started to feel like I was going to be out of luck. I found a vacant warehouse sort of a space to hole up for the day, and dozed off for a lot longer than I had intended to. It was dark again when I woke up. As I slipped outside I saw two Earthling women come out of a door further down the alley. They were dressed in some sort of form-fitting outfits that actually looked a lot like my skin.
Intrigued, I decided to take a chance. I dropped my robes behind a pile of boxes, and, though I felt incredibly awkward standing there completely naked, I knocked on the door. A thin hatch slid open and I could see eyes looking me over. Then the door opened. I stepped inside.
"Downstairs," said an Earthling male, pointing. I followed his directions, and came to another door. I knocked, the process from the first door was repeated, and in a moment I found myself in a crowded room filled with multi-colored lights and pounding music. Earthlings of both genders, many in outfits like the two females I'd seen leaving, many others in various states of undress, some being led on leashes, a few engaged, not very surreptitiously, in varieties of sexual acts...I supposed it was some kind of breeding ritual or ceremony.
I attracted more attention than I wanted, perhaps from my height, perhaps from my eyes, which are larger than Earthlings and glow with a faint pink light. But no one seemed to think I was especially out of the ordinary—maybe just a bit more attractive than the other females in the room.
My nose wasn't telling me anything I wanted to hear as I slowly moved through the room. Some of the Earthlings were tied up to metal frames and being flogged, which struck me as unusual, but then I didn't really know all that much about Earthling sexual practices. Nor did I really care.
At one end of the room, there was a bar. If there are two things found just about anywhere in the galaxy, they are beings trying to get sex, and beings drinking alcohol. A drink sounded like just the thing to help my rapidly fraying nerves. I had less than a cycle left before my ship was back, and I wasn't making much progress.
As I sat at the bar, I suddenly smelled him, the bartender. It was the same unmistakable aroma I'd smelled on the female in the manor back on Berniyoe.
"What can I do for you?" he said, leaning forward. Now, not to get all detail-y here, but you might be wondering how I knew English. I didn't, of course. But all space-faring peoples get injected with nano-particles that bond with our brains, allowing us to understand any language. Unfortunately, my soon-to-be lover did not have the same capacity. So I spoke with the only language I could: my touch.
As the woman with the odd pink eyes reached out and touched my cheek, I immediately felt a sensation of warmth and comfort, not just where she touched me, but radiating throughout my entire body. As she smiled at me, I didn't seem to care that her teeth were noticeably pointier than normal. One of those wanna-be vampire chicks, I thought. But to tell you the truth, I wasn't thinking much. As a bartender in a fetish club, I was pretty immune to getting turned on by latex outfits or anything like that, but I could feel my cock swelling pretty intently. There was definitely something different about this girl. But since I wasn't keen on losing my job, the inevitable outcome of fraternizing with any of the customers, I leant back and pulled my face away from her hand.
Immediately the sensations of warmth and arousal vanished. Her face looked suddenly pained—not just put out or bothered, but like I'd said or done something incredibly hurtful to her.
"What are you drinking?" I yelled over the music. But she just turned on her stool and got up. In the dim light and with her black outfit, all I could really see as she walked away was the long blue ponytail that jutted out from near the top of her head and hung halfway down her back. Well, whatever, I thought. It takes all kinds.
