Karg -- Chapter 7

Welcome To Karg

copyright 1997 by Pat Powers

I knew something was wrong even before I came to. Something was very wrong. My head hurt -- a lot. So did my knees. And my hips. And my arms ... which were wrong. And my mouth! What was in my mouth?!

I snapped into awareness. I was lying on my face, but I couldn't move to look about, because there were straps holding my head down.

I suddenly realized where I was. I was strapped into one of those effigies in the center of the village. The straps around my head were at the base of the phallus that came out of the seat -- and that phallus was what was in my mouth.

My wrists were held in the outstretched arms of the effigy, secured there by leather straps. My knees were loosely tied to the base of the effigy, so that they were spread nice and wide. What's more I was naked, in a position that so blatantly displayed my genitals, prevented by my bonds from concealing them.

I would have been in terrible pain if my weight had been resting on my knees, but the chair seat was unnaturally deep, and the phallus was so positioned that the weight of my body rested on the base of the chair.

What was in a lot of pain was the back of my head, where I had apparently been clubbed.

I struggled, testing my bonds, but Kargians typically are nothing if not thorough in the matter of tying women up, and this was no exception.

As I became more and more awake, the extent of my predicament became more and more clear to me -- as did the extent to which the phallus was jammed into my throat. It was big. It was waaaay back there.

This knowledge had its inevitable result -- I started gagging and retching uncontrollably. I tried instinctively to pull my head away from the phallus, but the straps held my head firmly in place. Soon my whole body was writhing in my attempts to get free of the hateful phallus that was sending waves of miserable retching over me. I was dimly aware that I was making horrible noises and that people were gathering around me, but as the retching intensified, I lost all awareness of even that. I was just a miserable wretch, retching. Then I passed out.

When I came to I was in a Kargian gag trainer. I did not know at the time that I was in a gag trainer. I knew I was in a wooden frame that absolutely immobilized my body, with my head particularly immobilized by a smaller frame. I could not turn my head from side to side. The ropes securing my head to the frame had actually been woven into my hair to prevent me from moving. There were also wooden pegs extending from the frame at strategic points, further immobilizing me.

Finally, my mouth was held open by ropes that looped over my upper teeth, extending back over my forehead, while another rope looped over the teeth in my lower jaw, secured to the frame below and to either side of my head. The ropes were elastic enough that I could close my mouth a little, but not so much that I could close it all the way -- there remained about an inch of gap between my teeth.

A child had been watching me, when my eyes open he called out "Wantoi! Wantoi!"

This cry summoned an old man who looked down at me with wizened eyes. His skin was incredibly wrinkled but he did have a nice necklace made of brightly colored insectoid shells.

I dubbed the old man "Wantoi!" though my nanoset didn't make a positive identification of the term as a proper name -- it could have been the term for "She's awake!" or "Get over here, old fart!"

Wantoi looked down at me and I looked up at him, that being about all I could do at the moment. I was still naked, too. He felt my breasts in a curiously friendly way, then reached over to my head and grabbed one of a row of phalli that were dangling from pegs set in the top of the frame it was the smallest of the phalli.

Wantoi took the phallus and slowly and gently shoved it into my mouth. I let him. It was just a carved piece of wood.

Wantoi grunted approvingly and put the small phallus back on its peg. Then he picked then next largest phallus and shoved it into my mouth. I looked up at the row of phalluses as he did so. They ranged from the small one's he'd just put in me to very, very large ones. I realized that I was soon going to be very, very unhappy due to all the gagging and wretching.

*Disable my gag reflex* I ordered my nanoset.

*Right away* responded the nanoset. *How about I isolate you from its effect but leave in some physical responses? He'll be expecting them.*

*Sure, just as long as I don't go through that whole gagging and retching until I pass out thing again* I said.

*Your conscious mind won't feel a thing* my nanoset assured me.

My nanoset was as good as its word, which wasn't a particularly difficult task for it, since it had about as many bits in my brain as I had nerve endings there. A nanoset was really what distinguished modern humans from those who came before - it was a silicon twin to my nervous system that extended its capabilities considerably. Most of the nastiness that humans hand inherited from their animal origins, like pain signals whose intensity and duration actually impeded you from recovering from an injury, were sidetracked by the nanoset. It could also override instinctive responses in other instances -- like the the gag reflex. It came in very handy when you were using gills and you needed to get past those "drowning" responses.

So my body choked and twitched as Wantoi shoved ever larger and larger gags down my throat while I lay there helplessly, then relaxed, feigning accommodation to the gag. Wantoi would nod and grunt approvingly when this occurred, then push the gag in and out of my throat a few times to make sure I was really accommodated to it.

*This must be hell for the Kargian women* I said. *They have no nanosets.*

*Certainly much more stressful for them than for you* my nanoset responded. *I bet they start them young and the training is a lot slower and more gradual than what you're getting.*

The last few phalli that Wantoi slid into my mouth were so big that they weren't of human proportions -- they constituted bragging, if they were meant to imply that Kargian men were that big, but thanks to the nanoset I swallowed them down, all the way with no problem.

Once Wantoi was satisfied with my ability to swallow large donkey dick effigies, he began the laborious task of untying me from the trainer, leaving the last and largest of the phalli secured in my mouth as a sort of test, I guess.

With the retching, and the fear of retching gone from my mind, I watched very carefully as Wantoi untied me. At the least chance I would activate my nanoset reflexes and blow out of that village so fast all they would see of me was a pink blur heading in the general direction of the lander.

But Wantoi treated me as carefully as if I were some kind of toothy monster that would devour him at the least misstep. No more than one limb was freed at any given time. He even ran a rope around my wrists and secured my wrists to that, one at a time at the hips, rather than free both in order to tie them together at the back. And he was wise to do so, as I would gladly have put a stiffened finger through the orb of his eye and pithed him to death, for what he'd put me through.

But I never got that chance. Instead, I was hobbled and leashed and led over to the chair, bent over it, and bound exactly as I had been when I woke up at first.

For the last touch, he pulled the phallus from the gag trainer out of my mouth and I was gagged by the phallus in the center of the chair, as I ahd been before.

When he was through, Wantoi watched me carefully for a few minutes -- checking for a renewed bout of gagging, I suspect -- then went on his way.

To tell the truth, I was glad for the relative piece of being tied to the chair. The session in the gag trainer had taken the starch out of me. If it hadn't been for the nanoset I probably would have been a gibbering mess.

Certainly, my mind was in a fragile state. The horrors I had been subjected to at the hands of these people were like something out of a history book. In my world, in the REAL world, people didn't behave like this. If they saw you didn't like something they were doing to you, they stopped it. I had come seeking new worlds, hoping to find primitives, and I'd found them, all right. But I'd expected to find them as a well-armed, fully shielded member of an exploration team, not as a naked woman tied to an effigy.

I roused enough to notice that it was mid-morning by this time. All the adult men were gone, except for a couple of guards who sat chewing leaves and gazing into the fire with blank expressions. But there were still plenty of small children, older women and men hanging around.

I suppose I was a novelty in the village, because in a very short time I was surrounded by a flock of children. They seemed to find me an amusing toy. They hit me, they slapped me, they tickled me, they pulled my hair, they rubbed dirt and mud and probably shit on me -- oh, they were a lovely bunch, doing it all with those gleeful little noises that children make when they're having fun.

I had never been particularly romantic about children, having had a younger brother, but these kids -- and my helplessness before them -- gave me a brand new perspective on them. They were scary little monsters, and in short order I winced and tensed up whenever one of them approached. The oldsters watched with a kind of benign indifference as the kids worked me over, only stopping their play if they seemed to be likely to do me lasting harm -- as when a kid came at my face with a sharp, pointy little stick, or another kid who was behind me (so I couldn't actually see what he or she was up to) apparently tried to pull one of my vaginal lips off.

I did some real screaming at times, but the phallus gag muffled most of it. Fortunately, the adults kept careful watch to see that the kids didn't injure me seriously, although they didn't worry much about whether thd kids caused me pain.

At the same time, some of the children would pet me, hug me, caress me and coo over me, showing every sign of affection with the same blank-eyed calm they exhibited when they were tormenting me. In the space of five minutes a kid might kiss me on the shoulder and stroke my arm, gurgling happily, then start slapping me and kicking me and shouting angrily -- each set of reactions displayed for no evident reason.

It was an impersonal sort of anger, much like the impersonal affection the children displayed. The behavior they displayed was very consistent with DNI studies of children's minds which indicated that it took a few years before normal emotional responses set in -- which was a BIG consolation to me.

I had pretty much sworn off childbearing by the time the women and the older children came in from gathering. They had baskets and bags filled with berries, they had some fishoids on strings, they had leaves and vines that they had collected. They piled these in open spaces near the fires, talking cheerfully and brightly about their morning's adventures, and pretty much ignoring me.

This was just the sort of thing my translator chip needed to get more of their language down, so I watched and listened carefully. Or tried to. I was soon distracted. Not that that was a problem -- my nanoset, I knew, was drinking it all in even if I wasn't.

The older kids who'd gone out to forage with their mothers, the local equivalent of teens and young adults, I'd say, became interested in me. I was a novelty for them, too -- a sexual novelty.

These kids at least knew the score -- I wasn't to be injured, but beyond that, anything went.

(Scene deleted from this sample chapter for obvious reasons -- well, it'd be obvious if you could read it!)

These thoughts reminded me of my own early sexual development.

Males on Earth were eager to have DNI sex. They liked it. It was mostly old-time lesbian feminists who at first opposed DNI sex, because they feared that heterosexual DNI sex made women like heterosexual experiences a lot more, as their minds were conditioned by experiencing sex from a male point of view. Which was absolutely true. After you've directly experienced the pleasure that men have in sex, there's only one question on your mind, and it's one I asked my girlfriend the day after my first DNI sex experience.

"Why don't they rape us, Mary?" I asked. "I mean, it's so BIG, so OVERWHELMING that I don't see how they maintain any control over themselves at all. If I were a man, I'd rape me. Daily."

"Well, they all want to, you know," said Mary, who was about a year younger than me but liked to be wise about everything. "That's why they sit around with their eyes gone all blank when we're talking to them. They're fighting off the urge to rape us."

Mary adjusted herself on the sling so she could look me in the eye. We were in our private place, an abandoned section of the Mecklenberg 9 habitat that we called home while our parents were involved in their current project. Most space habitats had places like this -- sealed off areas that weren't needed yet by the inhabitants, but were still kept lighted and filled with oxygen (for emergencies) and at shirtsleeve temperature because in space it was cheaper to let the sun heat the whole installation up to a certain point than it was to maintain a gradient.

The inevitable result of having all that unused space was that whenever the habitat had some piece of equipment or supplies that they wanted to store indefinitely (i.e., it wasn't so worthless that they would cast it into space, but it didn't have any immediate value) they'd dump it in the empty sectors, the most accessible of which soon became a wonderful jumble of odd machines, boxes, bags and crates that soon created little mazes and hidey holes that were very attractive to kids. They've got equivalents for kids on Earth -- I remember they call them "woods."

Our hidey hole (which we were sure was ours and ours alone) was actually inside one of the larger cast-off machines, a snug little place about six feet square. Light got in through a metal grating in the machine's side, patterning our faces and the whole interior. It was dusty and quiet, except for the dim background creaking and rumbling that was typical of any functional habitat.

"You are probably right," I said archly. "I wouldn't have believed you before today, but ... it's just UNBELIEVABLE how intensely guys experience this. When I first hooked into the DNI with him and felt how strongly the sight of me affected him ... what he wanted to do to me ... my nipples just popped up like two little balloons hooked up to a pressure hose. Fip! Fip! When he ran his hands over me, it was like ... like ... my whole body was just ready to explode. Only it was his body. I was just getting warmed up. When we kissed, it was so ... so ... gooey. It was like our faces were melting together, only it was our minds that were doing the melting."

"Sounds beautiful," Mary sighed.

"It was," I said happily.

"I guess you'll be hanging out with Davin a lot now," Mary said.

"Well, we anticipate a few evenings together, yes," I said smugly.

"You're probably going to turn into a bone kitten," Mary said.

"I think I already am," I said. Most women went through a bone kitten phase after experiencing DNI sex. It was considered a normal part of growing up, post DNI. I for one had been looking forward to it.

"Boys really are that different," Mary said questioningly. She had not jacked in with a boy yet.

"Oh, YEAH," I said. "But you know, they're messy. When they come, goo goes everywhere."

"Yech," Mary responded. "Do you love him more now?".

"Kind of," I said. "I mean, I love him, but it's not TRUE LOVE if you know what I mean."

"You want to do it with other boys," Mary said shrewdly.

"Yeah," I said, grinning, "a LOT of other boys."

"Bone kitten," Mary said primly. "And you of all people. I remember how you made fun of Li Yeun and Samantha when they went bone kitten."

"Well, that was different," I said airily. "That was them."

This reverie took me with unusual force. No doubt it was a defense mechanism, a way for my mind to block out the distressing things that were occuring to me. Hands, dicks, flesh everywhere and me held naked and helpless to prevent any invasion of my body at all.

Eventually, the ordeal ended. The last one slid out of the seat and reoved the O ring from my mouth, replacing it was a phallus. (My jaw had gone past stiffness to a kind of numbness -- I suspected that in order to close my mouth I would have to use my hand.)

The taste and smell of sperm filled my mouth and nostrils. I used to like it. I could feel a stream of it running down the inside of my thigh from the several males that had used me there.

I was grateful when the last one left, grateful that my ordeal was over. Then I noticed out of the corner of my eye a knot of small figures who were standing together, looking at me, pointing at me occasionally, and very obviously talking about me as well.

The girls. The young women who had gone out to gather food had been standing by and watching as the young males had their ways with me. And I could tell from the way they moved and gestured that now they felt it was their turn.