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Only minutes—or rather astrominutes: time did not pass on Aloxo the way it passes on Terra—only minutes ago Glenoxi had felt herself near death, the last bits of moisture and energy and life passing out of her parched silver body. But now? She had never felt better. The warm wetness, the wet warmth, the gushing energy of Starlanza embraced her and passed through Glenoxi’s welcoming orifices, micro and macro, between her legs and between her breasts and under her tight shoulderblades and even, briefly (because it felt awkward), under her chin. Starlanza’s exuberant tentacles embraced her destined lover one after another, until Glenoxi felt held, warmed, refreshed to the point of ecstasy as lips met lips and burgundy, brown, and coppery supple tentacles met silver sin. Suns and stars (as in Starlanza) exploded, quietly, behind Glenoxi’s eyes, until she sank, limp as a windless sail, in three of Starlanza’s strong arms.
“Ohhh,” Glenoxi said. “We are revived! Let us never part again.”
“Not if I can help it,” Starlanza answered. “I swam and flew and propelled myself through countless lightyears and eleven extra parsecs of deep space to find you again at last.”
“A unit of distance,” Glenoxi answered, “and not of time! Truly, Starlanza, you are my beloved. You fill me and nourish me. Let us never have a war in the stars again.” And Glenoxi drank deep from her beloved’s tentacles, first one and then another and then eight more, sitting up (supported by both of her crystalline tailbones), nodding her cone-shaped headgear, to place her lips on Starlanza again, as the larger mounds and cones and hemispheres of their landscape, enriched by the mammary energy of Starlanza’s presence, began to issue streams of liquid again.
“Is there life here, beyond ourselves?” asked Starlanza. “Has more life survived? Might we find more castaways, more beings like ourselves, in need and worthy of rescue?”
Glenoxi stared back into Starlanza’s deep glowing eyes, meeting her compassionate gaze with a metallic focus of her own. “We must find them, my beloved,” she said. “But not yet.” And Glenoxi reached out with her own long fingertips, under Starlanza’s most intimate tentacles, between Starlanza’s strong thighs.
“What are these?” Glenoxi asks, encountering a wiry pair. “Can you touch me with these as well? I want to touch all of you, my moist love.”
“I cannot, or rather I can but I must not,” Starlanza answered, inclining her head toward Glenoxi: Glenoxi was the expert on all things spacefaring, but Starlanza was the expert on herself. “Those are my inner wire tentacles, and they cannot nourish or touch my lovers softly, as my other tentacles do: they are for cutting and shaping. They will cut stone and shape the very core of a moon if I will it.”
“That is so hot,” Glenoxi responded, and fell, limp and happy, again, into Starlanza’s other tentacles, between her knees, in her arms.
A night and a day passed and the pair made ready to set out across the mammary planet, seeking life, resources, response in kind. But no sooner had Glenoxi pulled on her ultrasilver boots than she heard an ominous whirring overhead.
A glans-shaped lander descended, hitting the ruddy ground before the lovers with a hard thump. “You must come with me,” said the tall man who walked out of the lander. “You must come with me now.”
Starlanza cocked her chin at him in defiance, her short dark hair waving in the sudden wind. “I’m afraid we prefer to come with each other, Lord Vanon,” she said. “Go back to your One True Ship and leave us to ours.”
“I cannot,” Lord Vanon said, and extruded one penis finger, and then another, until all five of the penises from his left hand curled hard around both interstellar heroines. “You’re coming with me!”
“Stay calm,” Starlanza advised Glenoxi, as the hard flesh of Lord Vanon’s fingers pressed them together. Glenoxi could feel Starlanza’s outer shell—half carapace, half leathery jacket—pressed against Glenoxi’s own tender parts, the vulva between her legs and the extra vulvas on her side. And Glenoxi wanted more. But not like this. Not in captivity. Not with Lord Vanon. She had had quite enough of Lord Vanon.
“I’ve had quite enough of you, Lord Vanon!” Glenoxi declared, as the glans capsule rose, straight up, up through the waxy clouds, to his fabled testeship. “I defeated you last time and I’ll do it again, now that I have Starlanza on my side!”
But the glans capsule had already made contact with the testeship, divulging the captives and their captor into the space cockpit. Within the tight, fleshy control sac, Lord Vanon calmly stared Glenoxi down. “That is precisely why you will never defeat me again.”
“What do you mean?” And Glenoxi’s steel-blue lips quivered with fear. Starlanza clasped her lover’s hand.
“With you and Starlanza both, I have the secret to infinite propulsive energy,” Lord Vanon mansplained. “She has the ability to generate water, and steam, and even lube, that can revive the parched and energize the depleted, and you—you, Glenoxi—you are like a windmill, like a water wheel, like a turbine: you can convert the energy that your lover creates into electricity, into a usable form!”
Glenoxi blinked, hard. Her platinum eyelashed fluttered as she lowered her chin in sadness. “You have found out my secret.”
“It’s hardly a secret,” Lord Vanon mansplained. “What else could explain your hair?” Reflexively, Glenoxi touched her hair. It was true that her hair cones could function as Van der Graaf generators, letting off and sparking the electricity generated when she came. But how did Lord Vanon know?
“I have been to Earth,” Lord Vanon continued. As if from nowhere, he flung a book at Glenoxi: Electricity and Magnetism, by Purcell and Morin. “I have taken a sixth-form physics A-level review class on electromagnetism. I know what your hair can do.”
“It doesn’t matter, Lord Vanon,” Glenoxi cried out. “That only works if I’m penetrated. And you will never penetrate me. Not with all your hardest penis-fingers on any of your four troublesome penis hands.”
“But—but—” Lord Vanon sputtered.
“It’s true,” Starlanza spoke up, almost—but not quite—wriggling free. She strained against Lord Vanon’s restraining flesh, almost kneeling to get her leverage right. And then she stumbled, and she did kneel.
“She kneels before me!” Lord Vanon proclaimed. “She surrenders! Set the controls for the heart of the sun!” A small boom, a baby boom, sounded behind him, with a release of pink fluid, as his thrusters began to thrust.
“I’d sooner see you on the dark side of the moon,” Glenoxi replied. Bells chimed as Lord Vanon, heedless, released the brakes. “Anyway, Starlanza isn’t kneeling before you or anything like that. She just tripped.”
“She’s right, you know,” Starlanza said, almost sarcastically. Her curls bobbed up and down as if to tell Lord Vanon where to stick it. “And Glenoxi can’t be penetrated if she doesn't want to be penetrated. Not by anything or anyone. It’s one of her Occitan powers.”
“Then—” Lord Vanon looked flustered, flipping through his copy of Purcell and Morin. “Then Starlanza could generate infinite power, but I could never make use of it for my own ends?” HIs brows furrowed as he picked up his emergency Francophone. "Nothing I do can make you say oui?"
“Not in your favorite ship or any other,” Starlanza confirmed, one free tentacle waving. Glenoxi made as if to spit at him, making a sound of her own. "Oc!"
"But... but I heard you would accept me as your Lord and Master. That your loneliness made your desperate for power," Lord Vanon said, lowering his gaze to meet Glenoxi's.
:Not any more, now that Starlanza has found me," Glenoxi answered, fluttering her long eyelashes at her warm lover. "Anyway, those were just rumours."
“Then I will leave you on my arid home planet, and go my own way, and call it another lonely day,” Lord Vanon exclaimed, rubbing the fingers on his free penis-hand against his chin, watching them harden, slowly, and licking the longest until it grew soft again.
“Was that really necessary?” Starlanza asked. But Glenoxi said, “That was kind of hot.”
“I know,” Lord Vanon said. “So can I trust you to accept my hard, long fingers into your orificies and give me the infinite power I require?”
“Not so much,” Glenoxi answered, sassily. “Can you lick your finger again?”
“It is time,” Lord Vanon muttered, mysteriously. “You are useless to me. Say goodbye to any ship involving me, forever!” And with a great whooshing sound Glenoxi and Starlanza found themselves sucked out the rear airlock. Glenoxi used her side vulvas to cling tightly and safely to Starlanza as they glided through the atmosphere, landing softly among the spiky outgrowths of…. what was it?
“That’s not a moon,” Glenoxi said. “That can’t be a moon.” And she gestured around her: no craters, no plains ,and nothing alive, only chalky, crumbling structures, like abandoned spaceports, and spiky things, some the size of Glenoxi’s thumb, others the length of Starlanza’s tentacles, poking and waving up from the concealed surface of… whatever it was.
“It was a moon before the war of the stars,” Starlanza said, taking Glenoxi’s hand in her leftmost front tentacle and squeezing hard, in solidarity. But Starlanza herself felt less moist than she ought to be: she was tired. She herself, Glenoxi could see, wanted support.
They huddled, and cuddled, and Glenoxi felt Starlanza’s thickest tentacle in Glenoxi’s silver-blue lips, on her tongue, inside her. She felt the thick and salty taste of her lover all over her, and felt more tentacles, softer, then firmer, inside her, so that she sighed as Starlanza ramped up her own delight. And then Glenoxi felt everything inside her three vulvas happen, like lightning, like happy lightning, at once, and she cried, softly, and shuddered, as she fell back amid the spiky growth, finding, improbably, a way to lie back and be held, as Starlanza rocked her and bathed her with all seven of her tentacle-tongues, and the two great interstellar lovers opened themselves up to each other, and kissed so hard there were new lights in the sky.
“There are new lights in the sky,” Glenoxi observed when she opened her eyes again. “Are they coming to save us?”
“I think we have to save ourselves,” Starlanza answered. “If I can generate energy enough, can you get us off this ball of rock, and back to our own beds?”
“Fluffy soft beds or mineral beds or streambeds?”
“All of the above.”
“They are all above us,” Glenoxi agreed, “if anything off this moon counts as ‘above.’ But we have a problem, Hurston.”
“What?”
“Sorry, that’s an Earth author. We have a problem, Euston.”
“What??”
“It’s a spaceport. Euston Spaceport. Next to Kink’s Cross. Euston solves regular space problems and Kink’s Cross solves kinky ones.”
“What about Saint Pancreas? What do they do?”
“They solve hormonal problems. We’re getting distracted, Starlanza! What can we do?”
“What’s wrong?”
“All these protrusions and outcroppings,” Glenoxi said, gesturing around them. “The whole planet’s made of phallocentric material. There’s no way we can get off.”
“But…. but…” Starlanza frowned. “Surely there’s some way we can get off.”
“Not if we’re stuck here. Do you have any pocket rockets?”
Starlanza rummaged in her deep coat pockets. “Not with batteries. And there’s no where to plug in. And these…. you can’t get help from the landscape, can you? All these things… they’re just built into the moon. Truly, it is a dark-sided place.” Using her thickest back tentacles, Starlanza flicked at the tubular protrusions, some cone-tipped, some blunt but tapered at the very end. Some stayed hard and didn’t budge; some rocked back and forth. Some oscillated like long springs.
“Slinky!” Glenoxi exclaimed.
“What? What’s a slinky?”
“Metal and wire…. toys. You can wrap your arms in them. See?” And Glenoxi executed one of her famed costume changes. “I can’t make fireworks the way you can, or cut and shape stone itself with wire tentacles, but I have so many space outfits. I’ve been saving this one to show you.” The slinky metal arms shone and slid up and down, off Glenoxi’s shoulder pads, their glints matching her lavender-silver boots, her starry-night-black tights, her silver-blue van der Graaf hair. “And now we’re going to die here! We can’t get off!”
“Wait, Glenoxi. Did you mention my cut-and-shape tentacles?”
“The only ones that can never touch your lover, who is me? I mentioned them. Why?”
“If you can be penetrated, slowly and happily, you can convert my wetness into energy, correct?”
“Yes, but your tentacles can’t quite do it. It’s…. it has to be something hard. Otherwise I’ll just hentai in all directions and the vectors will cancel out and we are stuck here forever! Starlanza, let us make the best of the time we have.” And Glenoxi opened her lips wide.
“No,” Starlanza said. “I will not accept defeat. Look what I can do for you.” And she extruded her hot wire tentacles, the ones that could never go inside Glenoxi. Then Starlanza bent low, so that Glenoxi could see her curves beneath her coats, and started to slice the planet’s rodlike formations off the planet’s surface, first one and then another, until Starlanza had to use her coat as a makeshift toy-bag to hold them.
“Here,” Starlanza said. “These will go inside you, and stay very hard. If I hold you and moisten you and give you my energy, can you take one of these inside you and use your powers to shoot us into the sky?”
“These!” Glenoxi said. “I have only seen these once, on the high-tech planet D’il’ldo’o. I did not know you could make them yourself! You are so creative, Starlanza. So resourceful and kind.”
“I too have heard of D’il’do’o, and of their technological marvels,” Starlanza replied. “And I have learned from them. It’s a good thing I have those extra tentacles!”
“Mmmm,” Glenoxi acknowledged her lover, taking the first of the rods slowly into herself. It was a hard one, with a softer, roundish bulb on one end, and the two spacefaring figures worked together to insert it slowly, slowly, and then faster, until Glenoxi felt dizzy from the pressure, and Starlanza had to hold on to her as they rose into the air.
“Again!” Glenoxi said, and Starlanza said “I have to generate more energy first,” and all her tentacles extruded themselves at once in a solar embrace, just as they had when the lovers reunited on the mammary planet, saving Glenoxi’s life.
Starlanza opened her eyes wider than Glenoxi had ever seen, and they stared at each other until a great pulse of wetness, like a spume of ocean on an ocean moon, rushed from Starlanza into Glenoxi, and Glenoxi had another one of the phallocentric planet’s rods inside her, holding onto the rod by its base, thinking of all she had learned on D’il’ldo’o. And something else happened at the tip of that rod, propelling the lovers farther up, above the copper sulfate clouds…
Four rods and five gushers later, the lovers spun safely through the darkness among the suns towards Starlanza’s own planet, a nexus of water and clouds and green stuff and silvery technology orbiting a binary star. “What’s your planet like?” Glenoxi asked, sleepily. “I mean, what’s your part of it like? You never took me there before.”
“It’s very Sapphic,” Starlanza said. “With D’il’ldian technology, and gold-colored lakes that are safe for swimming, and Brussels sprouts, and stories.”
“I love Brussels sprouts,” Glenoxi whispered, smiling. “And stories. Has anyone written them down?”
“No,” Starlanza said as they passed through a violet nebula, a nursery for new stars. “You can write them down.”