There is no tickling in this first part of A Long Trip. It is just to set the scene and the characters (only three of them). The story is written and is about 30,000 words long. All future parts will have tickling, sex (all F/f) and even a nonconsensual footrub. Hope you stick around for the action. I plan to release a new part every week or so.
“I’m sorry,” Captain Gretchen Weiss informed the small crew of the Asimov, “We just received the communication. There will be no rescue mission. Pulling another Stardrive ship from its assigned task and prepping it to save us would be too costly, the risk of docking and transferring crew in deep space to great. Since we are in no immediate danger, our orders are simply to make for home at best possible speed.”
Mission Specialist Dr. Alana Blake and Tech Sergeant Carla Alvardo exchanged glances. They had expected this since the Stardrive had failed 62 minutes after departing Titan, Saturn’s largest moon, depriving them of their most powerful form of locomotion. Hearing it was still a punch to the gut.
“And what exactly is our best speed, Captain?” Alana Blake asked, a slight catch in her throat. She was a scientist, not part of the space exploration military structure. Her job had been to study Titan’s atmosphere and the deposits of liquid hydrocarbon found on the surface. She knew little about space travel and had never dreamed of facing a situation like this when earning her multiple PhD’s.
“We are not adrift, don’t worry,” the captain said, trying to sound reassuring, “The Main Computer has already calculated a trajectory which will get us to Earth using only our maneuvering thrusters. The problem is, at the reduced speed the thrusters are capable of, the journey will take eleven months.”
Again silence. The trip with a working Stardrive would have only taken three weeks.
“Eleven months!” Carla yelled, her voice echoing off the hard spaceship walls, “Eleven months! I got to be cooped up with you birds for that long?! Oh no! You get back on the horn, you tell Earth Command to get their asses up here or I’m going to kick theirs when I get home! I ain’t waiting no eleven months!”
Carla stood toe to toe with the captain, her body language completely confrontational. Although both beautiful, the two woman were a study in contrasts. Carla’s jet black hair, and swarthy skin, courtesy of her Spanish heritage, gave her an exotic look, while Gretchen had the appearance of a Nordic goddess, taller than the sergeant by a full head with golden hair and fair skin. Even their clothes clashed. The Tech Sergeant was wearing her engineering scrubs, stained from her efforts to repair the Stardrive while the Capetian, fresh from her video conference with Earth Command had on her best dress uniform.
“You have your orders, Tech Sergeant,” the captain said softly, not giving an inch.
“It’s all about money, ain’t it!” Alvardo snapped, her cheeks growing redder.
“I imagine the millions of dollars it would take to pull another Stardrive capable ship off of its current duties and outfit them for a rescue mission was part of Earth Command’s decision making process,” Gretchen said slowly as if explaining something to a child, “There’s more to it than that, of course.”
“Like what?!” the tech Sergeant barked.
“Safety concerns for one. You know how hard a mid-space docking is,” the captain stared down at her subordinate, never blinking, “Do you want a repeat of the Antilles and the Red Rover? We’d all be dead, as well as the poor saps they sent up to get us.”
“I wasn’t on either of those ships,” Carla said, a bit of the fire gone as she remembered the tragedy, “Nothin woulda blown up if I had been.”
“Not to mention,” the captain continued, “The our rescue would leave the Asimov, a very expensive ship, adrift in deep space. I don’t know about you, Tech Sergeant, but I’m not about to abandon my duty and my vessel.”
Both veteran spacers just stared, waiting, as if one had just challenged the other to a duel. Alana realized that Gretchen had just accused Carla of trying to shirk her duties, of trying to desert her ship, the oldest taboo of any navy whether it sailed between the stars or over the ocean. She didn’t know the Tech Sergeant well, but Carla certainly wasn’t going to take that well.
She didn’t. For a second, it seemed she would lose her temper and erupt in the kind of insubordinate temper tantrum that could have resulted in her court martial. Instead, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the bulkhead as she passed through the doorway.
The tension went out of the room. Captain Weiss relaxed visibly. Just for a second, she looked a full decade older than her thirty-five years of age as the stress of their predicament wore her down. Still, she was immaculate, uniform pressed and crisp with her hair perfectly braided into a long ponytail.
Alana brushed a strand of long, red hair from her eyes. Had she ever looked as professional as the captain did right now, at undoubtedly the most stressful moment of her career? The scientist looked down at herself with her mussed hair, wearing the shorts and t-shirt usually worn aboard ship. Somehow, she doubted it.
The captain paused and looked at Alana, as if sensing her discomfort, “Keeping it together doctor? If anyone has the right to be angry, you know, it’s you. You’re a civilian, with no obligation to the Asimov or Earth Command. It was our job to get you to Titan and back again in an expedient manner, and we failed.”
“Are…are we going to be OK?” Alana asked timidly, unsure whether she wanted the answer.
“Absolutely,” Gretchen answered, smiling, “The matter replicator can provide us with food and drink as long as the sun is shining to fill our solar cells, and the oxygen scrubbers can keep our air supply fresh and clean for years. Even at this slow speed, we could make the journey to Earth many times over.”
“But…” Alana continued, “What about all the other dangers in space? It’s long time! What if something happens we haven’t thought of? What if…”
“Now, now, no need for that. There may be things you haven’t thought of,” Gretchen smiled, her face lighting up for the first time since she had broken the horrible news, “And there may be things I haven’t thought us, but there’s nothing that the Computer hasn’t thought of.”
“It…it can do that?” Alana asked.
“It’s not just any regular computer. The Asimov has the latest generation of artificial intelligence, capable of billions of computations a second, and it has studied the problem for hours, analyzing every risk factor imaginable. It was only when the Computer informed both myself and Earth Command that there were no significant risks to us that the rescue mission was scrubbed.”
“That…that’s a relief,” Alana said, exhaling at last.
“Don’t worry, Doctor,” Gretchen winked one of her deep, blue eyes, “As long as the computer’s not worried, neither am I. We’ll get you home. It’ll just be a lot later than we had planned.”
* * * * *
But the computer was worried. While the AI knew it had the capacity to shield the crew and keep them safe from physical danger, it was advanced enough to know that there were other kinds of dangers, dangers that the crew was ill-equipped to deal with.
Little thought had been given to crew compatibility when the mission had been assembled. It hadn’t seemed important when the voyage was only going to last weeks. Now, these women would be together for close to a year. Even small amounts of friction between individuals could create cracks in the social environment in that amount of time.
The AI, however, didn’t anticipate small amounts of friction. With an authoritarian captain, a fiercely independent tech sergeant and a reclusive, bookish scientist, the projections showed a significant amount of dysfunction. When you added to the equation the normal stress of space flight along with those generated by an unexpected, lengthy isolation, and the expected outcome was close to disaster.
Not only did the crew lack social compatibility, they also lacked any kind of sexual affinities either. Individuals with a high likelihood of mating were often teamed up on long term missions. It helped release the stresses that built up even with a compatible crew. The three women on the Asimov were all strongly heterosexual, virtually eliminating the possibility of romantic interaction. Another factor that doomed the homeward flight of the Asimov.
The AI reached one conclusion. Unaided, the crew would self-destruct long before Earth was reached.
With as advanced as the AI was, it was still a computer, looking at the world in strictly mathematical terms. It interpreted the findings of psychologists as strictly as those of astronomers or biologists, and set to use mathematics to solve the problems it found. There were two variables, social interaction and sexual attraction, X and Y. One of them had to be manipulated to solve the equation.
It was the second variable that the AI decided was the most malleable. Sexuality, after all, was more emotional, more instinctive in humans than friendship. If the AI could just manipulate one of the females in the right way, hit on just the right nerve, perhaps it could create a sexual encounter after all, one which could change the social dynamics of the group and enable them to get home safely.
Alana. Buried deep in her psychological profile, the AI found not one but two fetishes that could, if properly stimulated, take control over her libido, drive her to break several taboos that had restrained her all her life. If the AI could get little Alana to break free at just the right time, in just the right way…
The AI ran the checks over and over again. It could work. There were many factors it would have to control, subtly influence all three women, but if it did, Alana’s submission to her own desires could set off a chain reaction, one that would create a stable social environment on the Asimov, if one so unusual it could never come about by sheer chance.
To enact its plan, the AI began pumping low doses of Aphrodin into the air supply. Though the chemical was often used as a sexual aid in more liberal times, given the current repressed social conditions on Earth, it had been outlawed in every country since before the women were born. None of them would even guess at its presence or that they were falling under its influence.
They would honestly believe their actions to be of their own free will.
* * * * *
Tech Sergeant Alvardo was in Hanger Bay 2, completing minor repair on the Rover, the vehicle that had actually landed on several of Saturn’s moons during their recently completed mission to recover samples. She knew it was a pointless job. The Rover would not be needed again on the voyage home and would almost certainly be decommissioned and scrapped back on Earth.
But she needed to keep busy. She had spent the last two weeks, ever since the captain's announcement, repairing every minor system on the ship. Without the Stardrive to tinker with, the only thing left to work on was the Rover. That maintenance, however unnecessary, kept her sane. If she stopped working, if she let her hands become idle, the anger returned.
She and her boyfriend had been planning on submitting the paperwork for marriage when she returned. That was supposed to be in one week. Now it was ten and a half months away. Just thinking about that made her blood burn with rage, made her want to start ripping out the Rover's delicate circuitry and throw a temper tantrum.
Stupid captain! Stupid Earth Command! Would he wait for her? He had been impatient when she pushed the date off until after this last mission. Only eight weeks she had told him. She had made him wait, even though it was so hard on him. Marriage would have done so much to ease the tension they both felt.
It wasn't that they hadn't had sex, of course. Even the Moral Authority hadn't been able to force young couples to wait. But they had to be so careful, so discreet. They had to create the fiction that they were celibate, just as all their neighbors, family and co-workers had to pretend to believe them. It was a polite little lie that benefited everyone, but it so limited the times she and Jake could be together.
After marriage, they could have stopped hiding, had sex every night and no one would have cared. She and Jake could have truly satisfied their desires. Now...would he wait for her?
Even as she thought about it, Carmen could feel her excitement grow along with her frustration. Every night she had dreams about Jake, of being in his arms, feeling his manhood penetrate her. She couldn't seem to get sex off of her mind. She didn't understand it! She had been without for longer and had still been able to turn off her libido at will, like the Moral Authority said she should! Now, it was as if she had no control over her excitement.
A light flashed on the Rover's screen. A diagnostic had found the drive train in serious need of realignment. That was odd. The drive train should have gone years without needing repair. Still, that was not bad news for Carmen at all. Taking apart and reassembling the mechanism would take weeks! That would distract her, keep her mind off other things.
Like mechanics had for generations, Carmen Alvardo lay down on her back and wiggled her body under the three ton vehicle she needed to fix, favorite tool in hand. She was so at peace, she actually hummed a little tune as she worked, unaware that her small, bare feet stuck out from underneath the metal monster, completely vulnerable.
* * * * *
Even as she entered the Cargo Bay, Alana wasn’t thinking clearly, looking for a crate of scientific equipment she needed for her latest experiment that she had been told by the computer had been mistakenly stored here. She hadn't been sleeping well either in the two weeks since the captain's speech. She had been having dreams...such dreams...as she could barely understand. It took all her willpower to block out those dreams and focus on work.
Had a medical officer examined her, they would have found heightened levels of both estrogen and testosterone in her blood stream as well as brain wave patterns most closely resembling a person under the effects of alcohol intoxication. Both were an effect of days of exposure to the Aphrodin and had increased her libido to almost frighteningly high levels. She was close to snapping under the stress, though she was oblivious to the fact.
It was the Carla’s feet that pushed her over the edge.
Spacers did not wear shoes. This was a fact Alana hadn't known since before came aboard the Asimov. Shoes were unnecessary. Their was no dust on a space ship to get feet dirty (air purification systems), no debris on the ground to injure them, no moisture, no drops in temperature to freeze them. Every pound counted on a spaceship. No unnecessary cargo could be tolerated.
Toes could also grab and hold nearly as well as hands. That could be vital if the artificial gravity failed and you desperately needed to clutch at handhold to stabilize yourself. Besides, sailors going shoeless was a tradition as old as sailing ships.
The captain and Carmen took going barefoot on the Asimov for granted. Alana did not. The sight of pretty feet always excited her, a fact that she had done her best to repress since puberty. A foot fetish didn't meet the Moral Authority's definition of normal. Alana had never even heard the words before! They were not discussed in polite society.
Only the psychologist who performed Alana's initial evaluation knew the truth. She had recorded the fact on her Psych Report as an "abnormal condition that seems to be under the control of the patient. Not significant enough to bar her from service."
But at that moment, Alana was not in control. She was practically vibrating with sexual energy. Never having had a boyfriend (too shy, too focused on her work), she had no experience with her own drives. The Moral Authority, with its branding of all things sexual as 'sinful', had never given her the opportunity to experiment or to know herself.
Therefore, the elven redhead was totally unprepared for what happened next. Alana took one look at the pair of feet sticking out from under the Rover and felt her insides melt. They were small, but perfect, with nice arches and pudgy little toes. Alana couldn’t stop staring at them. At that moment, they were literally the most beautiful things she had ever seen.
A red hot desire burned inside Alana's soul as carefully constructed walls inside her id crumbled. She had to have them, like a starving woman needed food! She found her legs taking a step in that direction.
"This is wrong!" her superego shouted, "You cannot take pleasure from a woman! And her feet?! That...they...TABOO! You'll be banned, kicked out of the university! Shunned"
Not even that could stop Alana, as she took another step towards the feet, eyes opened as wide as saucers. Who would know? How would anyone ever know what happened on the Asimov while it was out near Saturn? Certainly no one on the Board of Regents or any of her snooty neighbors who were always trying to get her to join that country club.
Tech Sergeant Alvardo would know, of course, but who would she tell? She’d probably only be on Earth for a few weeks before blasting off on some new mission. And it wasn’t as if she moved in Alana’s circle anyways. She’d probably be too embarrassed to explain how she had allowed some science nerd to play with her feet. She did have a reputation to protect.
And she was just going to touch them, play with them a bit. That wasn't sex, was it?
Another step, then another. Alana’s heart was beating so fast, she was surprised Carla couldn’t hear it. She knelt down next to that perfect pair of feet, careful not to touch them. Not yet. Not yet.
She was so close now, could hear the ratcheting sound of the tools the Tech Sergeant was using as she continued to hum, oblivious to the fact she wasn't alone.
Sticking out from under the Rover, with no body in sight, Alana could pretend that the feet weren’t attached to anyone. They didn’t belong to a guy or a girl, a friend of hers or an enemy. No reason to feel guilty or ashamed. There weren’t any genitals. Just feet. Feet she could play with and no one would be any the wiser.
Alana knew she might never have another chance like this. What happened in space stayed in space.
Reaching out, Alana caressed one of the soles. It was so warm and as soft as butter. She did it again, feeling her body shutter at the contact, a tiny orgasm rip through her just from that simple contact.
* * * * *
Carla felt the touch on her foot, but thought little of it, preoccupied as she with disconnecting one of the fuel converters. When she felt it again, she did realize someone else was there. but felt more annoyance then anything else. She did not want to be disturbed!.
“Go the hell away!” she snapped, “I am trying to DO something here! I don’t care if its dinner time or if half the ship is on fire! Just get out of here before I beat you senseless!”
* * * * *
Alana pulled her hand back, reacting to the anger in Carla’s voice, then froze. The Tech Sergeant had no idea what she was really doing! If she left now, all Carla would remember was being interrupted during the job. There would be no embarrassment, no consequences.
That wasn't good enough. That first orgasm hadn't satisfied her. If anything, it made her desires grow, showing the delight that would come from indulging in them. She wanted to share this with the Tech Sergeant, not have her simply oblivious to it all!
She slipped her left hand underneath Carla's foot, raising her sole an inch or two in the air, the Tech Sergeant screaming insults at her the whole time. Leaning down, still controlled by her libido, Alana ran her tongue across Alavrdo's sole, from up al her heel to down close to her toes, tasting her flesh, breathing in the spicy yet not unpleasant aroma, letting the twin sensations flow through her.
"HE eh eheeh HEEYYYY e ehehehehe3 what the hell was that!!!" Carla's voice came from underneath the mound of metal. It was so angry, yet a few chuckles forced their way out with her words, seeming out of place amidst her wrath.
Alana stared. Why would she be laughing? Carla Alvardo couldn't have been...ticklish? The oh so tough Tech Sergeant born on the wrong side of the tracks ticklish! That thought through fuel on Alana's already raging hormones. That was...was an oh so delightful thought! Alana knew she needed to hear more of those girlish giggles.
She held up all five fingers of her right hand, perfectly manicured nails sparkling in the light of the Hanger Bay. It was definitely time for Carla to cheer up.
“I’m sorry,” Captain Gretchen Weiss informed the small crew of the Asimov, “We just received the communication. There will be no rescue mission. Pulling another Stardrive ship from its assigned task and prepping it to save us would be too costly, the risk of docking and transferring crew in deep space to great. Since we are in no immediate danger, our orders are simply to make for home at best possible speed.”
Mission Specialist Dr. Alana Blake and Tech Sergeant Carla Alvardo exchanged glances. They had expected this since the Stardrive had failed 62 minutes after departing Titan, Saturn’s largest moon, depriving them of their most powerful form of locomotion. Hearing it was still a punch to the gut.
“And what exactly is our best speed, Captain?” Alana Blake asked, a slight catch in her throat. She was a scientist, not part of the space exploration military structure. Her job had been to study Titan’s atmosphere and the deposits of liquid hydrocarbon found on the surface. She knew little about space travel and had never dreamed of facing a situation like this when earning her multiple PhD’s.
“We are not adrift, don’t worry,” the captain said, trying to sound reassuring, “The Main Computer has already calculated a trajectory which will get us to Earth using only our maneuvering thrusters. The problem is, at the reduced speed the thrusters are capable of, the journey will take eleven months.”
Again silence. The trip with a working Stardrive would have only taken three weeks.
“Eleven months!” Carla yelled, her voice echoing off the hard spaceship walls, “Eleven months! I got to be cooped up with you birds for that long?! Oh no! You get back on the horn, you tell Earth Command to get their asses up here or I’m going to kick theirs when I get home! I ain’t waiting no eleven months!”
Carla stood toe to toe with the captain, her body language completely confrontational. Although both beautiful, the two woman were a study in contrasts. Carla’s jet black hair, and swarthy skin, courtesy of her Spanish heritage, gave her an exotic look, while Gretchen had the appearance of a Nordic goddess, taller than the sergeant by a full head with golden hair and fair skin. Even their clothes clashed. The Tech Sergeant was wearing her engineering scrubs, stained from her efforts to repair the Stardrive while the Capetian, fresh from her video conference with Earth Command had on her best dress uniform.
“You have your orders, Tech Sergeant,” the captain said softly, not giving an inch.
“It’s all about money, ain’t it!” Alvardo snapped, her cheeks growing redder.
“I imagine the millions of dollars it would take to pull another Stardrive capable ship off of its current duties and outfit them for a rescue mission was part of Earth Command’s decision making process,” Gretchen said slowly as if explaining something to a child, “There’s more to it than that, of course.”
“Like what?!” the tech Sergeant barked.
“Safety concerns for one. You know how hard a mid-space docking is,” the captain stared down at her subordinate, never blinking, “Do you want a repeat of the Antilles and the Red Rover? We’d all be dead, as well as the poor saps they sent up to get us.”
“I wasn’t on either of those ships,” Carla said, a bit of the fire gone as she remembered the tragedy, “Nothin woulda blown up if I had been.”
“Not to mention,” the captain continued, “The our rescue would leave the Asimov, a very expensive ship, adrift in deep space. I don’t know about you, Tech Sergeant, but I’m not about to abandon my duty and my vessel.”
Both veteran spacers just stared, waiting, as if one had just challenged the other to a duel. Alana realized that Gretchen had just accused Carla of trying to shirk her duties, of trying to desert her ship, the oldest taboo of any navy whether it sailed between the stars or over the ocean. She didn’t know the Tech Sergeant well, but Carla certainly wasn’t going to take that well.
She didn’t. For a second, it seemed she would lose her temper and erupt in the kind of insubordinate temper tantrum that could have resulted in her court martial. Instead, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the bulkhead as she passed through the doorway.
The tension went out of the room. Captain Weiss relaxed visibly. Just for a second, she looked a full decade older than her thirty-five years of age as the stress of their predicament wore her down. Still, she was immaculate, uniform pressed and crisp with her hair perfectly braided into a long ponytail.
Alana brushed a strand of long, red hair from her eyes. Had she ever looked as professional as the captain did right now, at undoubtedly the most stressful moment of her career? The scientist looked down at herself with her mussed hair, wearing the shorts and t-shirt usually worn aboard ship. Somehow, she doubted it.
The captain paused and looked at Alana, as if sensing her discomfort, “Keeping it together doctor? If anyone has the right to be angry, you know, it’s you. You’re a civilian, with no obligation to the Asimov or Earth Command. It was our job to get you to Titan and back again in an expedient manner, and we failed.”
“Are…are we going to be OK?” Alana asked timidly, unsure whether she wanted the answer.
“Absolutely,” Gretchen answered, smiling, “The matter replicator can provide us with food and drink as long as the sun is shining to fill our solar cells, and the oxygen scrubbers can keep our air supply fresh and clean for years. Even at this slow speed, we could make the journey to Earth many times over.”
“But…” Alana continued, “What about all the other dangers in space? It’s long time! What if something happens we haven’t thought of? What if…”
“Now, now, no need for that. There may be things you haven’t thought of,” Gretchen smiled, her face lighting up for the first time since she had broken the horrible news, “And there may be things I haven’t thought us, but there’s nothing that the Computer hasn’t thought of.”
“It…it can do that?” Alana asked.
“It’s not just any regular computer. The Asimov has the latest generation of artificial intelligence, capable of billions of computations a second, and it has studied the problem for hours, analyzing every risk factor imaginable. It was only when the Computer informed both myself and Earth Command that there were no significant risks to us that the rescue mission was scrubbed.”
“That…that’s a relief,” Alana said, exhaling at last.
“Don’t worry, Doctor,” Gretchen winked one of her deep, blue eyes, “As long as the computer’s not worried, neither am I. We’ll get you home. It’ll just be a lot later than we had planned.”
* * * * *
But the computer was worried. While the AI knew it had the capacity to shield the crew and keep them safe from physical danger, it was advanced enough to know that there were other kinds of dangers, dangers that the crew was ill-equipped to deal with.
Little thought had been given to crew compatibility when the mission had been assembled. It hadn’t seemed important when the voyage was only going to last weeks. Now, these women would be together for close to a year. Even small amounts of friction between individuals could create cracks in the social environment in that amount of time.
The AI, however, didn’t anticipate small amounts of friction. With an authoritarian captain, a fiercely independent tech sergeant and a reclusive, bookish scientist, the projections showed a significant amount of dysfunction. When you added to the equation the normal stress of space flight along with those generated by an unexpected, lengthy isolation, and the expected outcome was close to disaster.
Not only did the crew lack social compatibility, they also lacked any kind of sexual affinities either. Individuals with a high likelihood of mating were often teamed up on long term missions. It helped release the stresses that built up even with a compatible crew. The three women on the Asimov were all strongly heterosexual, virtually eliminating the possibility of romantic interaction. Another factor that doomed the homeward flight of the Asimov.
The AI reached one conclusion. Unaided, the crew would self-destruct long before Earth was reached.
With as advanced as the AI was, it was still a computer, looking at the world in strictly mathematical terms. It interpreted the findings of psychologists as strictly as those of astronomers or biologists, and set to use mathematics to solve the problems it found. There were two variables, social interaction and sexual attraction, X and Y. One of them had to be manipulated to solve the equation.
It was the second variable that the AI decided was the most malleable. Sexuality, after all, was more emotional, more instinctive in humans than friendship. If the AI could just manipulate one of the females in the right way, hit on just the right nerve, perhaps it could create a sexual encounter after all, one which could change the social dynamics of the group and enable them to get home safely.
Alana. Buried deep in her psychological profile, the AI found not one but two fetishes that could, if properly stimulated, take control over her libido, drive her to break several taboos that had restrained her all her life. If the AI could get little Alana to break free at just the right time, in just the right way…
The AI ran the checks over and over again. It could work. There were many factors it would have to control, subtly influence all three women, but if it did, Alana’s submission to her own desires could set off a chain reaction, one that would create a stable social environment on the Asimov, if one so unusual it could never come about by sheer chance.
To enact its plan, the AI began pumping low doses of Aphrodin into the air supply. Though the chemical was often used as a sexual aid in more liberal times, given the current repressed social conditions on Earth, it had been outlawed in every country since before the women were born. None of them would even guess at its presence or that they were falling under its influence.
They would honestly believe their actions to be of their own free will.
* * * * *
Tech Sergeant Alvardo was in Hanger Bay 2, completing minor repair on the Rover, the vehicle that had actually landed on several of Saturn’s moons during their recently completed mission to recover samples. She knew it was a pointless job. The Rover would not be needed again on the voyage home and would almost certainly be decommissioned and scrapped back on Earth.
But she needed to keep busy. She had spent the last two weeks, ever since the captain's announcement, repairing every minor system on the ship. Without the Stardrive to tinker with, the only thing left to work on was the Rover. That maintenance, however unnecessary, kept her sane. If she stopped working, if she let her hands become idle, the anger returned.
She and her boyfriend had been planning on submitting the paperwork for marriage when she returned. That was supposed to be in one week. Now it was ten and a half months away. Just thinking about that made her blood burn with rage, made her want to start ripping out the Rover's delicate circuitry and throw a temper tantrum.
Stupid captain! Stupid Earth Command! Would he wait for her? He had been impatient when she pushed the date off until after this last mission. Only eight weeks she had told him. She had made him wait, even though it was so hard on him. Marriage would have done so much to ease the tension they both felt.
It wasn't that they hadn't had sex, of course. Even the Moral Authority hadn't been able to force young couples to wait. But they had to be so careful, so discreet. They had to create the fiction that they were celibate, just as all their neighbors, family and co-workers had to pretend to believe them. It was a polite little lie that benefited everyone, but it so limited the times she and Jake could be together.
After marriage, they could have stopped hiding, had sex every night and no one would have cared. She and Jake could have truly satisfied their desires. Now...would he wait for her?
Even as she thought about it, Carmen could feel her excitement grow along with her frustration. Every night she had dreams about Jake, of being in his arms, feeling his manhood penetrate her. She couldn't seem to get sex off of her mind. She didn't understand it! She had been without for longer and had still been able to turn off her libido at will, like the Moral Authority said she should! Now, it was as if she had no control over her excitement.
A light flashed on the Rover's screen. A diagnostic had found the drive train in serious need of realignment. That was odd. The drive train should have gone years without needing repair. Still, that was not bad news for Carmen at all. Taking apart and reassembling the mechanism would take weeks! That would distract her, keep her mind off other things.
Like mechanics had for generations, Carmen Alvardo lay down on her back and wiggled her body under the three ton vehicle she needed to fix, favorite tool in hand. She was so at peace, she actually hummed a little tune as she worked, unaware that her small, bare feet stuck out from underneath the metal monster, completely vulnerable.
* * * * *
Even as she entered the Cargo Bay, Alana wasn’t thinking clearly, looking for a crate of scientific equipment she needed for her latest experiment that she had been told by the computer had been mistakenly stored here. She hadn't been sleeping well either in the two weeks since the captain's speech. She had been having dreams...such dreams...as she could barely understand. It took all her willpower to block out those dreams and focus on work.
Had a medical officer examined her, they would have found heightened levels of both estrogen and testosterone in her blood stream as well as brain wave patterns most closely resembling a person under the effects of alcohol intoxication. Both were an effect of days of exposure to the Aphrodin and had increased her libido to almost frighteningly high levels. She was close to snapping under the stress, though she was oblivious to the fact.
It was the Carla’s feet that pushed her over the edge.
Spacers did not wear shoes. This was a fact Alana hadn't known since before came aboard the Asimov. Shoes were unnecessary. Their was no dust on a space ship to get feet dirty (air purification systems), no debris on the ground to injure them, no moisture, no drops in temperature to freeze them. Every pound counted on a spaceship. No unnecessary cargo could be tolerated.
Toes could also grab and hold nearly as well as hands. That could be vital if the artificial gravity failed and you desperately needed to clutch at handhold to stabilize yourself. Besides, sailors going shoeless was a tradition as old as sailing ships.
The captain and Carmen took going barefoot on the Asimov for granted. Alana did not. The sight of pretty feet always excited her, a fact that she had done her best to repress since puberty. A foot fetish didn't meet the Moral Authority's definition of normal. Alana had never even heard the words before! They were not discussed in polite society.
Only the psychologist who performed Alana's initial evaluation knew the truth. She had recorded the fact on her Psych Report as an "abnormal condition that seems to be under the control of the patient. Not significant enough to bar her from service."
But at that moment, Alana was not in control. She was practically vibrating with sexual energy. Never having had a boyfriend (too shy, too focused on her work), she had no experience with her own drives. The Moral Authority, with its branding of all things sexual as 'sinful', had never given her the opportunity to experiment or to know herself.
Therefore, the elven redhead was totally unprepared for what happened next. Alana took one look at the pair of feet sticking out from under the Rover and felt her insides melt. They were small, but perfect, with nice arches and pudgy little toes. Alana couldn’t stop staring at them. At that moment, they were literally the most beautiful things she had ever seen.
A red hot desire burned inside Alana's soul as carefully constructed walls inside her id crumbled. She had to have them, like a starving woman needed food! She found her legs taking a step in that direction.
"This is wrong!" her superego shouted, "You cannot take pleasure from a woman! And her feet?! That...they...TABOO! You'll be banned, kicked out of the university! Shunned"
Not even that could stop Alana, as she took another step towards the feet, eyes opened as wide as saucers. Who would know? How would anyone ever know what happened on the Asimov while it was out near Saturn? Certainly no one on the Board of Regents or any of her snooty neighbors who were always trying to get her to join that country club.
Tech Sergeant Alvardo would know, of course, but who would she tell? She’d probably only be on Earth for a few weeks before blasting off on some new mission. And it wasn’t as if she moved in Alana’s circle anyways. She’d probably be too embarrassed to explain how she had allowed some science nerd to play with her feet. She did have a reputation to protect.
And she was just going to touch them, play with them a bit. That wasn't sex, was it?
Another step, then another. Alana’s heart was beating so fast, she was surprised Carla couldn’t hear it. She knelt down next to that perfect pair of feet, careful not to touch them. Not yet. Not yet.
She was so close now, could hear the ratcheting sound of the tools the Tech Sergeant was using as she continued to hum, oblivious to the fact she wasn't alone.
Sticking out from under the Rover, with no body in sight, Alana could pretend that the feet weren’t attached to anyone. They didn’t belong to a guy or a girl, a friend of hers or an enemy. No reason to feel guilty or ashamed. There weren’t any genitals. Just feet. Feet she could play with and no one would be any the wiser.
Alana knew she might never have another chance like this. What happened in space stayed in space.
Reaching out, Alana caressed one of the soles. It was so warm and as soft as butter. She did it again, feeling her body shutter at the contact, a tiny orgasm rip through her just from that simple contact.
* * * * *
Carla felt the touch on her foot, but thought little of it, preoccupied as she with disconnecting one of the fuel converters. When she felt it again, she did realize someone else was there. but felt more annoyance then anything else. She did not want to be disturbed!.
“Go the hell away!” she snapped, “I am trying to DO something here! I don’t care if its dinner time or if half the ship is on fire! Just get out of here before I beat you senseless!”
* * * * *
Alana pulled her hand back, reacting to the anger in Carla’s voice, then froze. The Tech Sergeant had no idea what she was really doing! If she left now, all Carla would remember was being interrupted during the job. There would be no embarrassment, no consequences.
That wasn't good enough. That first orgasm hadn't satisfied her. If anything, it made her desires grow, showing the delight that would come from indulging in them. She wanted to share this with the Tech Sergeant, not have her simply oblivious to it all!
She slipped her left hand underneath Carla's foot, raising her sole an inch or two in the air, the Tech Sergeant screaming insults at her the whole time. Leaning down, still controlled by her libido, Alana ran her tongue across Alavrdo's sole, from up al her heel to down close to her toes, tasting her flesh, breathing in the spicy yet not unpleasant aroma, letting the twin sensations flow through her.
"HE eh eheeh HEEYYYY e ehehehehe3 what the hell was that!!!" Carla's voice came from underneath the mound of metal. It was so angry, yet a few chuckles forced their way out with her words, seeming out of place amidst her wrath.
Alana stared. Why would she be laughing? Carla Alvardo couldn't have been...ticklish? The oh so tough Tech Sergeant born on the wrong side of the tracks ticklish! That thought through fuel on Alana's already raging hormones. That was...was an oh so delightful thought! Alana knew she needed to hear more of those girlish giggles.
She held up all five fingers of her right hand, perfectly manicured nails sparkling in the light of the Hanger Bay. It was definitely time for Carla to cheer up.
