Chief Sec HFSS Orion

I must have missed-- or forgot-- the section on Iomonians from my sec training. Iomonians are an extreme warrior race that live by the creed of death before capture. After millennia of that creed, they developed the ability to self-destruct. They are more civilized now, but civilization is often one of the first casualties of being drunk on whatever your species craves. I should have immediately used an immobilization blaster on him, but I know from experience that those things hurt like hell and I was trying to be merciful. So I tackled him from behind and started putting on the restraint cuffs. I had secured two of his arms and was reaching for the third when he detonated. My sec suit protected me from the blast... except for the area around my ears. The thin membrane didn't have a chance and what the force of the blast didn't destroy, the heat of the vaporizing Iomonian flesh did. I ended up with some mandatory retraining and a set of artificial ears.

That was a long time ago, so no one here knows that I have a set of ears that can translate most languages and hear soft conversations from across a noisy room. Despite the din, I very clearly heard Sec Officer Shelly ask politely, "Is there a problem here?"

The correct, immediate answer to that question is "No, sir," or "No, ma'am."

That's what the whole table said in unison and Officer Shelly replied, "Good," with a smile and then walked away.

I was starting to think that this might be an uneventful stop when I heard someone at the table closest to me almost yell, "That man is lying!" Then he stood up and pointed across the table at a crewman from the Orion.

If you want to start a fight in a spacer bar, call someone a liar. Nothing else short of vilifying his mother will so certainly start a fight.

I immediately stepped over to the table. "Is there a problem here?" I asked softly.

"That man is lying," the man repeated. Then he continued in his agitated and slightly inebriated speech, "He says he's been to Omicron Delta Alpha Nine and that's not possible."

"I know," I said. "ODA Nine has been quarantined for over a hundred years. Some sort of plague broke out there."

"That's a lie, too," the man said much more softly. He laughed slightly before continuing, "But it's a lie that Space Command came up with, so that makes it the same as truth." Then he looked up at me and said bitterly, "Doesn't it?"

Several of my sec officers had come over to the table, but there was something about this man's eyes. I signaled them to hold back, sat in the empty seat next to the man, and said, "Tell me more."

"After the floorshow," he said softly, pointing toward the stage where the MC in the spangly suit was once more in the spotlight on center stage.

"Are you ready for some wrestling?" the MC yelled out to the crowd. A loud "Yes!" reverberated through the room.

A large, six-sided wrestling ring was rolled out onto the stage. Walking alongside it were six very muscular women. They were all naked and devoid of hair below the neck. Three of them were bald. Two had hair that was cut very short. The sixth had long blond hair that was braided into a long rope that hung down her back well past the round of her ass. They each had a number painted on their abdomen which was repeated on their backs. There must have been some special lights above the stage because the numbers glowed brightly on their skins. The special lights also caused their well-oiled skin to glow slightly.

"Our betting rules," the MC began, "are very simple. If you pick the winner, you double your bet. If you pick the top two in the correct order, you quadruple your bet. And... if you pick the entire sequence of losers and winner in the correct order, you get back one hundred times your original bet. While the ladies are warming up, the waitresses will circulate between the tables so you can get those bets placed."

The six naked women climbed up into the ring. They were doing some rudimentary stretching exercises, but mainly they were bending over so that their cunts and asses were displayed to the crowd. After a little while, they each picked up a large sponge out of a bucket and began rubbing a clear, glistening oil all over their bodies. The blonde with the long braided rope knelt down and nearly plunged her head into the bucket so that her hair was totally saturated with the oil.

When the MC came back into his spotlight, the ladies all went to their "corners" or whatever you would call the post in the hexagonal ring with their number on it. "This is a spike match," the MC said loudly as his petite, naked assistant ran out to him with a box containing six anal plugs with long handles on them. "You don't pin your opponent. You shove this..." He picked up one of the strange-looking ass plugs out of the box. "... up your opponent's ass."

He held it high above his head and said, "It has sensors on the small ring at the base of the plug that will detect when it is fully inserted. Then it will... oh, you will see what it does. The winner is the last one standing."

He put the anal spike back in the box and his assistant ducked under the ropes to enter the ring and distribute one spike to each of the wrestlers. Then she quickly scurried out of the rink. The six naked women stood against their number post with their muscles tight and quivering.

A loud drum roll came over the sound system as the MC held one hand high in the air. The drum roll stopped. He dropped his hand to his waist and shouted, "Wrestle!"

Woman number six rushed over at woman number three who was across the ring from her. But rather than grappling, they both turned and faced outward. Woman number five, the muscular blond with the long hair, moved to her right to stand with woman number four. Evidently there was no rule against working together early in the fight. That left one and two.

I expected them to also work together, but instead they moved out into the center of the ring separately. Evidently they had not wrestled in this ring before because that was a very unwise thing to do. The three-six pair went after woman one. The four-five pair engaged woman number two.

Woman number two was a very large and very muscular woman and perhaps thought that she had an advantage. She would have... against one other woman, but she was fighting a pair. Woman number four came at her from the front and ducked under her arms to grab her around the middle. Four was practically being smothered by two's large breasts and the fact that two was hugging her very tightly against herself. Four went slightly limp as though she were passing out and two bent over slightly to hold onto her. One thing you absolutely do not want to do in a spike match is bend over, even slightly. Number five, the braided blonde, rammed her spike into number two's ass. Number two screamed loudly and came back straight upright. Then she shuddered slightly, lost control of her bladder, and dropped to the floor of the ring shuddering and quivering. Number Five quickly picked up number two's dropped spike and stood back to back with number four.

Four McBrewski's staff quickly dragged number two out of the ring and lifted her up more or less onto her feet. They frog walked her over to the back of the stage to a strange-looking pole that looked like it had a small mushroom on the top of it. They lifted her up and set the handle of the spike, which was sticking out of her ass, into a hole in the center of the mushroom. Then they quickly tied her ankles to short lengths of chain that were attached to the floor. The pole rose up into the air until her legs were stretched tight. I noticed that there were four more mushroom poles across the back of the stage.

There was a scream and I looked back to the ring itself. Number one was on the ground shaking and quivering. I knew where she was going to end up, so I ignored the four McBrewski's dragging her out of the ring and instead concentrated on the two pairs who were now facing off in the center of the ring. Not surprisingly, number six, who was the larger of that pair, and number five, the larger of that pair, were grappling in the center of the ring while their partners stayed close behind protecting their ass. It almost looked like a dance of some sort as they bounced here and there around the ring. But it wasn't very entertaining and the crowd started making their displeasure known.

Perhaps in response to that, number four moved around and challenged number three. More specifically, she jumped quickly around the two who were locked together and made a lunge at number three's ass. Maybe number three forgot that the braided blonde was left-handed. Maybe she hadn't considered that number four's actions were part of a plan. In any case, she jumped into a defensive position against number four that put her right alongside her partner with her back toward number five.

Number five, the braided blonde, grunted loudly as she rammed her spike into number three's ass. Number three screamed and began thrashing as the now embedded ass plug began discharging strong electrical charges into her body. Number six made the extreme mistake of looking down at her fallen partner. She joined her screams almost immediately as number four's spike slid into her ass.

Number four and number five picked up the spikes that had been dropped and walked to the opposites sides of the ring while McBrewski's staff dragged the two fallen wrestlers out of the ring and mounted them on top of the mushroom poles. There was now only one pole left.

Both women were breathing hard and perspiring heavily. In a few moments, one of them was going to be atop the final mushroom pole with the rest of the losers. The MC hadn't said what the winner got. The women began slowly circling the ring drawing ever closer to each other. They seemed to be very evenly matched. Twice they lunged at each other and ended up down on the canvas, but neither could gain the upper hand. If they were just trying to pin each other, it would have been different, but they needed to get their opponent face down on the canvas or catch them somehow from behind.

A loud roar went up from the crowd when number four suddenly got her hand firmly wrapped into number five's blonde braid. She pulled her forward and almost was able to strike as she pulled her past. Number five stumbled slightly as they approached the edge of the ring and it looked like four might triumph. Then number five did a somersaulting dive toward one of the posts and pushed off from the post with her feet.

The move caught number four completely by surprise as number five rocketed back between her feet. Number four's hand was wrapped into number five's braid so she was pulled forward as number five slid between her legs. Number four fell forward toward the canvas, but number five's spike was firmly embedded in her ass before she hit. The shocks from those anal plugs must be really strong because number five twitched slightly as she unwound her hair from number four's fingers.

The MC grabbed number five's hand and lifted it up into the air. "We have a winner!" he exclaimed loudly. "And for winning," he continued, "she gets a month's leave from all duties here on Dexter-Barlow Eleven."

As number five walked slowly off stage I couldn't get the nagging feeling out of my mind that I had met her somewhere before. After she had walked into the darkness, the MC said, "We will give you time to collect your bets, order more food and drinks, and take care of any necessary bio-breaks before our next act."

The ring was pushed off stage, but the five women were left on the poles almost as if they had been impaled. The mushroom top acted as a safety to prevent the poles from entering them, but it still had to be very uncomfortable. The Cowgirl Chorus appeared at the front of the stage singing their strange songs.

I turned back to the man sitting next to me. "You were telling me about all of the lies," I said softly.

He looked around the room like he was slightly afraid, then he said flatly, "Another lie is that the StarExplorer Neil Armstrong was lost with all hands when it was struck by a rogue asteroid while conducting surveying studies of Baxter Delta Seven."

He blew out his breath in a long soulful sigh and said, "I am... or was... Franklin Prescott, commander of the StarExplorer Neil Armstrong. We landed on Omicron Delta Alpha Nine one hundred and nine years ago."

He smiled at me and said, "They would have prevented me from telling you that, except it doesn't make any difference now. You have heard them singing."

"What do you mean?" I asked curtly.

"If Space Command had told the truth," he continued, "you would know that Omicron Delta Alpha Nine isn't a planetoid. It is a colony ship that went rogue."

He shook his head and said flatly, " There was a minimal crew with the colony itself in stasis before something went wrong. Perhaps it was an ion storm, maybe it got too close to a neutron star... whatever. The stasis failed and almost all of the colony died. The AI controller for the ship was programmed with a prime directive. The colony must survive. Maybe it was damaged by the same whatever that killed everybody, but it forgot it was a colony ship. I think it became sentient and transferred that order for survival to itself."

He shook his head again and repeated, "Whatever. It decided that it needed a crew to maintain it, but its crew was dying off. It had been given the ability to stimulate earther, or near-earther brains so that the people in stasis wouldn't go insane from lack of input. It studied the historical records that the colony had brought with them and learned of the sirens of ancient Greece on old earth. It realized that it could duplicate that. All it had to do was to lure an earther ship near enough for its sirens to work and then enslave its crew."

He downed what was left of his drink and said bitterly, "That's what happened to StarExplorer Neil Armstrong... and a dozen other ships."

"If all that's true," I said evenly, "How did you escape from Omicron Delta Alpha Nine?"

"Your round," he answered holding up his empty glass. "I'll tell you the rest after the next show."

He pointed to the stage where the MC was stepping into his spotlight. "And now a little something for the ladies among us," he said firmly. Then he held his hand up flat with the palm facing the ground and wobbled it slightly and added, "... and for some of the men who like what men and women have in common."

Strange music with lots of bells and rather shrill-sounding musical whistles began playing through the sound system as a strange rotating frame was pushed on stage. It was about the size of a small cargo pod and was about the same diameter. Six men were strapped onto the six sides of the frame. They appeared to be sitting on something small that looked a lot like the mushroom tops from the impalement poles the women had been left on after the previous show. Their faces were painted with the heavy colors of a Thandalan prostitute with very bright red lips, blue around the eyes, and pink on the cheekbones. Their hands were pulled up tight above them, sloping in toward the central axle of the device. The mushroom seats were moving up and down in a synchronized rhythmic fashion so that the man that was raised highest and the man that was lowest were on opposite sides of the rotating frame. There was some sort of shiny cup over both of each man's nipples. A small tube and several wires led down from the shiny cups to somewhere beneath the mushroom seats where they connected to a large black box with a white number on it.

The MC let the device rotate several times and then said, "We are going to give these men... if you can call them that... a chance to prove that they are actually men. The anal pleasure seat has a soft metal prick that sticks up each man's ass. It vibrates and wiggles and extends slightly in and out as the seats rotate." He held up a silver cup that looked like what was on the men's nipples and said, "Meanwhile, this nipple pleasure device will stimulate his nipples almost exactly like someone sucking and licking." He turned the cup so that everyone could see what looked like a small tongue in the center of it.

"A real man," he continues, "would be able to withstand this for a long time. A sissyboi, on the other hand, will succumb very rapidly to these pleasures." He waved his hand slowly over the crowd and asked, "Can you tell a real man from a sissyboi? Here's your chance to prove it. The bets are simple. Correctly pick the true man... or the worst sissyboi... and win double your bet. Pick both the man and the sissy and quadruple your bet. The waitresses will pass among you to collect your bets. But be quick about it. One of these sissybois may have a hair trigger and everything will be over before you have a chance to bet.

A bevy of naked waitresses hurried from table to table recording bets and collecting credits on their wrist accumulators. When it looked like all of the bets had been placed, the MC said, "Time to get serious," and a soft humming filled the room as the anal and nipple stimulators became active. All of the men's cleanly-shaven pricks came to attention.

Several of the men moaned softly. One grunted as if trying to block out the sensations. The device had made only four or five rotations before one man groaned loudly and spurted out onto the floor of the stage. Bright lights suddenly flashed around him and he screamed loudly and thrashed against the restraints which held his wrists and ankles tight to the frame.

"Oh," the MC said with a laugh, "did I mention that the first sissyboi to lose it also gets the full electrical punishment that this machine can deliver?"

That punishment was evidently part of what was encouraging the others to hold back because within the next rotation three more men groaned softly and spurted onto the stage floor.

"Only two left," the MC said softly. "Which one will it be? Is number three the sissyboi, or is it number five?"

Almost as soon as he finished saying that, number five groaned and spurted. A squad of men in McBrewski's shirts ran onto the stage and began releasing the men from the device. They started with number three. He stood there with his prick still at full attention while he wiped the makeup from his face with a towel one of the staff had handed him.

Each of the losers were led to the front of the stage where they were each bent over a fucking bench. The padded platform of the bench was more or less at waist height. Across the front of the bench was a piece of metal with three padded holes in it. The center hole was big enough for the man's neck. The two outer holes just fit his wrists. The piece of metal was actually in two halves which opened so the loser's head and hands could be set in the holes. Once the sissy was bent over the pad and his head and hands secured, two of the staff secured his ankles and knees to the upright supports of the bench. Secured in this way, he could move slightly, but could not rise up or escape.

"Our winner needs some relief," the MC said, "and there are five assholes just waiting to be fucked."

The winner was led over to the first fucking bench where the first loser was strapped in place. Unlike the winner, who had wiped the sissy makeup from his face, the loser was still fully made up. In fact, one of the naked female assistants had just applied more makeup, turning the loser's bright red lips into an exaggerated smile.

The same naked assistant that had redone the loser's makeup, quickly stepped behind him and squirted something-- probably lube-- between his asscheeks. Then the winner stepped forward and rammed his stiff prick into the sissy's ass. He only thrust a couple of times before he shuddered slightly and bent over the sissy's back.