It's strange to think that, if anyone ever reads this little history, which I doubt anyone ever will, it might be in a very different place and a very different time, and it might make no sense at all. That's okay. I'm not writing for an audience anyway. I'm writing because I've got things to say, even if no one ever hears them. And I'm writing to pass the time.
But obviously,
you
are reading this, and there's one thing you should know up front. If you're looking for romance, you can stop reading now and go find yourself a different story. Because there ain't no romance in this one. There's damn little anywhere on Mars anyway. Now, if you're looking for sex kicks, there's some of that, especially if you're as sick and twisted as me. But that's not what the story is about. It's about how I got where I am, waiting to die in this shitty, bug-infested cage. And Juliette. And how, if someone can learn from our mistakes, maybe they won't wind up like us, which is dead, or soon to be. But who learns from someone else's mistakes anyway?
The worst part of the whole thing is Juliette. I don't know if I loved her, but I sure miss her. I think about just being with her, and I think about fucking her. She fucked like a real bim. That's because she was a bim. She looked like one, she talked like one and she sure fucked like one. But we just really enjoyed each other - talking, eating, doing 'phro-mone, whatever. And as slutty as Juliette was, she had the heart of a little girl. And she was never a whore. Never. Not once. Could have made a whole lot of money that way, though.
I'm not going to tell you much about my childhood, if you can call it that. My real name is Melvin Booker. I probably had a middle name too, but I don't know what it was. Everyone calls me "Stones" anyway. It doesn't have anything to do with taking drugs. Everyone does that. They call me that mostly because I usually make good decisions under pressure and it seems like I never get freaked. I do, of course. I get just as scared as anyone else. Sometimes more. I just don't show it. But I do like the reputation.
I'm twenty in Earth years, but we started using Martian years here a while ago, so I'm really only ten and a half. And let me tell you, it's been ten and a half long, mostly shitty years.
I don't remember much about when I was really young, just some laughing and some hugging. That much is always there, way in the back of my mind, like a warm, dull light. My older brother, Frankie, remembered a lot more and was always talking about things that happened with Mom and Dad that I'd forgotten about.
Then, when I was four, my mother and father both died in the hog flu that wiped out ninety per cent of the colonists. It got my sister and my two other brothers, too. After that, there was no school and not much government. The cops, who were the only ones who had guns, took over, and Frankie and me were pretty much on our own. They had "homes" for kids like us, but they sucked big time. The bastards who ran them either made you work 'til you died or fucked you up the ass 'til you ran away.
Clever kids like us were better off on their own anyway. We learned how to steal anything that wasn't nailed down. And in those days, there was a lot of stuff that wasn't nailed down. To begin with, there was ten times too much space for the number of people left alive. And ten times too much food and clothes and holovisions and everything else. So living was easy at first, but you couldn't sell the things you stole 'cause everyone already had more than they needed.
In fact, there was so much food at first that the government actually laid off some of the farm workers who hadn't died. The ones that were left were just harvesting the stuff that was already growing, not planting anything new. But then all that fresh food started going rotten and the preserved food ran short. There were food riots and the paranoid, disorganized government couldn't get anything right. They closed the planet, turned the ships from Earth back, and the first famine hit. That's when we stopped using Euros and started printing our own money, Martian Dollars - MDs, or "docs" for short.
And when the food ran short is when Frankie and me had to learn to steal something we could sell, like brix and red magic, 'phro-mone, gliders bug-eyes and clear days. Valuable shit like that. Drugs and other stuff that
was
nailed down. So we stole it, and we sold it. And we used it too when we had extra, which was often enough.
And that's how I met Juliette - at a 'phro-mone mingler. We call them "minglers" to mock the boring tea parties that cops and rich people have. A mingler is like an orgy, a wild dance party and a drug binge, all rolled into one.
'Phro-mone is short for something else - aphrodisiac and hormone or pheromone or something like that. It's a stew of sex smells that all kinds of people give off: male, female, 'mo, 'tro, everything all mixed together. They get it from genetically engineered animals back on Earth. The mix makes you horny as hell, and the more of it you breathe, the hornier you get. It comes as a liquid and you throw it into a vaporizer, add in a little psychedelic, like some red magic, or a mood enhancer, like a glider or two, which they also get from animals. Then you round up your friends or charge admission, put on a little music, turn on the vaporizer, and POOF - instant sex maniac, drug-dance rampage.
I guess on Earth they're hip-deep in genetically engineered shit like that. Some of it's pretty weird, but still useful, like talking cows and plants that can walk around and take simple instructions. Some is just freaky junk, like a giant nose - no face, no head, just a living nose - and chickens with twelve heads. And there are a lot of silly toys for rich people, like bunnies that lay Easter eggs, crap like that.
Engineering humans is theoretically illegal, but there's plenty of it happening Earthside anyway, stuff like size-adjustable breasts for women who might want small tits at work, but huge melons for their boy friends. Here on Mars, we don't allow any genetic engineering at all, except for plants, which are mutated to improve the crop yield or nutritional value. But 'phro-mone, psycho-drugs and a few other high demand items get smuggled in from Earth regardless.
So one day I walked into this mingler - it was already in full swing – threw my 10 docs in the bucket and left my pants at the door. Then here's this absolutely gorgeous bomb – Juliette, of course - getting fucked by three guys at the same time. And there were at least five more guys who were so hot for her that they were just sitting around and watching her get fucked and waiting their turn while they beat off or got sucked off by some other slut, who maybe was getting fucked by some other guy. Even if 'phro-mone had never been invented, I would have had an instant boner.
She was slim, small tits, average height. But she was all legs and arms with gigantic green eyes and thick, wild, bright red hair. She hadn't bothered to take all her clothes off, but probably hadn't been wearing much to begin with. Her tiny, pink pleated skirt was flapping around her waist, and she was wearing matching pink shoes with really high spike heels. Anything else she might have had on when she arrived had long since disappeared into the pile of clothing on the floor.
This particular mingler was in an unused storeroom on the seventh level of the mostly abandoned Ohio sector. The room was about 200 square meters, give or take, and there were probably 30 people there: about fifteen guys (half of them all over Juliette) and ten girls. Plus another five I wasn't sure about, because I couldn't tell from their appearance and couldn't see their equipment.
Oh yeah, and there was one dead guy. A lot of older men, like in their 20s, get over-excited at minglers and cash it in. This particular guy couldn't have been dead long because his huge cock was still showing a healthy, rock-hard response to the 'phro-mone. Stiff as he was, he couldn't cum, and that actually made him pretty popular with a few of the girls, probably more than when he'd been alive.
At a 'phro-mone mingler you don't have to wait for introductions to stick your cock into an empty hole. But I couldn't get anywhere near Juliette that night. She was always mobbed by other guys. And I was only nine and a half at that point. Not exactly large for my age either. So I wasn't about to force my way through a crowd of sex-crazed men. But, you know, I'd be damned if I was going to just stare at her and jerk off, so I fucked three or four other girls. I was always watching Juliette out of the corner of my eye though.
I remember the first girl specially well: a short, pretty, dark-skinned bim with long golden hair and bright blue eyes. She had big breasts and wide hips, sturdy arms and legs and not a speck of fat on her body. When I first saw her she was lying face-up on top of a big guy whose thick cock seemed to be five centimeters further than all the way up her gorgeous ass. She was wearing nothing but high-heeled boots and heavily-jeweled earrings that hung down to her shoulders. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she was tossing her head from side to side and clenching and opening her hands in some kind of ecstatic fit.
Everything after that must have been at least partly the result of the drugs - I think it was black sun that time - but some of it had to be real, too.
Her brown, little cunt was opening and closing like a tiny, frantic mouth, and suddenly I realized I could read lips. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," it pleaded silently. I looked again. "Oh, God, stick it in! Fill me up! Stretch me 'til I rip!" her pussy begged. Her super-stiff, twitching clit was pulsing and glowing as if it were about to burst.
I suddenly noticed a series of glowing tattoos. Small, multi-colored, down-pointing arrows, starting at her bellybutton, lit up one after the other, running across her pubic area and ended at her dripping cum-dump. I got the hint. My cock was so bloated, it turned a shining, psychedelic blue.
Her hips were pumping quickly up and down, making her cunt a moving target. I positioned myself between her widely spread legs, aimed and pressed the tip of my cock against the wet mouth. Instantly, her hips stopped moving. Her eyes flew open, locked on mine and began to draw me in, like some sci-fi tractor beam. Millimeter by millimeter, her hungry pussy slowly swallowed my hard cock as if it were a snake eating its trembling prey alive.
Things only got more intense from there. Alternately, I was a wild animal violently taking a frenzied mate, a dying star giving off cosmic bursts of energy, a thermonuclear missile hurtling toward a rich city-paradise.
