Sci-Fi - A delightful sci-fi short story.
I was born on the forest moon of Padrish-La on the 3,331th year of the Roark Imperial calendar. My birthplace was a monastery run by Dulra Shamans. My mother had given birth to me in this place because of the strange blue markings on her wrists and ankles that appeared during her pregnancy. The Shamans thought I might be the seventh reincarnation of the Durla, destined to take apart everything in the universe so it may start again with a more perfect design.
I was not the person the Shamans were looking for. While the Durla is both creator and destroyer, I was neither. I was simply curious and bored of the tedious rituals, such as the constant construction and deconstruction of the monastery’s clock tower. After 168 cycles I finally ran away from that place. Just as the food supplies I packed ran out, I arrived at the village of Vory.
Vory is a trading hub were local farmers ride in on their landcrafts full of rice and beans. The Village Magistrate collects them and judges each farmer’s contribution to the area. The Magistrate then assigns each farmer a set amount of necessities for his or her trade and a number of luxury stamps that may be spent on a plethora of enjoyments not considered essential to the community.
The people of Vory were quick to notice my status as a Durla runaway because of my ponytail and yellow robes. I met with the village Magistrate, who had experience with other ex-Durla Shamans. There it was decided that my profession would be watchmaker. I found it ironic that I had escaped the responsibilities of being a reincarnation of the ultimate war Guru, but I had not escaped the burden of clock making. Overall, though, my life in Vory was an improvement. In place of endless repetition I had creativity, and in place of The Eternal Rituals I had girls. Puberty hit me like a charging lizard-wolf; my voice cracked, I shot up in height like a patch of birchberries, the fins on my back finally grew out, and the hearty local smoked meats had given me a bit of a belly.
For all my teen awkwardness, I was still the luckiest youthling in the entire village. I became the Village Magistrate’s daughter chosen rumpsringa. The Magistrate class knew that sexual intermixing between classes was inevitable; therefore it had to be ritualized and controlled. Members of the Magistrate class could choose one peasant that they would enter into a sexual relationship with. Some Magistrates stay with their chosen rumpsringa for life. Others simply end the relationship within hours.
Heigen, the Magistrate’s daughter, had chosen me because she assumed my training had made me different from all the other youthlings in the village, and that I would make every moment more memorable by my uniqueness. I was happy to be her rumpsringa due to her immense beauty. All her features seemed like they were crafted with a water-knife out of a large block of glasstone. Her teeth were pointy, her feet were wide, her nose was upturned, her pink hair went all the way to her tail, her breasts and ass were large and cumbersome, and her back and arms were tattooed with bright golden letters of a language I could not read.
For 26 cycles I served as Heigen’s rumpsringa until she grew weary of me. My ignorance, my constant curiosity, my sexual skills, and my relatively exotic past no longer provided her with the distinctiveness she sought. I wept in dismay and vowed that I was done with both clocks and women. Not wanting any reference point to remind me of Heigen, I signed up as an indentured servant at the local Spacing Guild registry. The considerable paunch I had developed during my easy life as a rumpsringa had fooled the registry clerk into thinking I was some manner of cook. Not many people of my social stature weighed as much as I did, and my weight was one of my unique features Heigen delighted in. She was always poking my love handles, rubbing my belly, or squeezing my plump thighs until I giggled.
I was assigned to an R-Class frigate named Certainty. Certainty’s primary cargo was wood lobsters. Padrish-La was full of wood lobsters but nobody there bothered to eat them because they were so rough. On the inner ring planets chefs would cook them for three days straight to soften them up, and they were considered a delicacy. My assignment as a cook worried me greatly. My first night on Certainty I dreamed they discovered my lack of cooking abilities and I was thrown out of an air lock. I awoke covered in sweat and breathing heavily. I climbed down from my bunk and stared at the ship’s other cook, Yotary. Inside his head were the practices and rules I needed to become a cook. I felt I had no choice other than to use my Mind-Sight. As I entered the necessary trance my scalp burned, my eyes watered, and my mouth tasted of skunk-wine. Bright pulsating lights appeared before me and with every vibration my head hurt more. The trance went on like this for three minutes, but pain has a funny way of messing with one’s perception of time. I climbed back to my top bunk, wondering if the Durla Shamans of my childhood had sensed what I had done, or if they even remembered me.
For 15 Padrish-La cycles I worked as one of the chefs on Certainty. Yotary was rather curious how I knew all of his Gong-Shi ethnic recipes. I told him that a flock of his people acted as herders on my planet and that I had spent 3 cycles with them one summer, and had learned from them. That seemed to flatter the old man. Looking back on the situation, he did do things to imply that he may have fancied me to some extent. He always touched my spine fins and breathed heavily into my ears while I cooked. I really can’t blame him for his lechery, though. He was permanently indentured to the Spacing Guild due to the debts of his flock, so he was lonely for both his homeland and sexual company.
My time as cook only served to make me more fat and lazy than I already was. My days consisted of nothing but cooking, feasting, drinking green vodka, playing Soben Rat Rumble, and sleeping. Fat accumulated on every part of my body. Even my tail was getting rather heavy. When my belly had gotten so large and low-hanging that it covered my genitals I began to simply drag my tail behind me instead of hoisting it up like proper etiquette stated I should. My tail dragging reminded me of Fat Tull from Vory. Fat Tull was so heavy that she had to have a special bracelet with wheels on her tail. Tull was gigantic by anyone’s standards, and must have weighed at least five Imperial freight measurement stones.
At the end of my indenture I was dropped off on Gib Prime, the Imperial Regional Capital of Sector 17. I had exchanged my discharge money and my Rat Rumble money for Imperial silk dollars on the planet of Stonethrow. A similar exchange could have taken place on Gib, but the regional capital was notorious for its crooked exchange rate officials.
I really didn’t have any idea what I would do on Gib Prime. I figured that since the planet was so full of people a plan would likely find me before I ever found it. Unfortunately, I wasn’t that lucky. I wandered from place to place with my money supply shrinking. Eventually I stopped staying in motels and dormitories and began to sleep in public buildings. In a moment of desperation I even interviewed for a job as a watchmaker, but my skills where rough and not suited for the delicate timepieces favored by the Gibian public. I couldn’t even beg successfully; who would give silk pieces to a fat beggar?
Eventually I ended up sleeping in the Grand Regional Library every night, which was terribly understaffed. There was simply no way the security staff could patrol the entire collection, which made it the ideal place to spend the night. The stacks of books reminded me of the way Heigen read stories to me after we had made love. She had always read from large brown tomes with a gold spine. I tried to find the books that she read to me in the library, but I didn’t remember the titles so my search was fruitless.
I began to stay in the library during the day as well. It was safer and warmer than outside. I spent my days reading books: gaudy romance novels, dashing tales of sky pirates, and murder mysteries with at least four twists. Whenever I was hungry I would go outside and get the free food that the Altruist Reformers League was giving out to the downtrodden. I was given four times the food that most beggars got from the Reformers because I was able to spin yarns about having a poor and sick family that I was taking care of.
As I read more I became bored with the one-silk novels that originally amused me. Tales that I enjoyed cycles earlier, now seemed predictable and trite. I began to ask the librarians book recommendations instead of just grabbing whatever had the prettiest cover. I even began to become friends with some of the librarians. Like them, I was at the library every day. They would invite me out to bars and restaurants to talk about all the new books we were reading. I didn’t have any money to pay my tabs, so I ordered a quarter of what I would usually eat and my new friends paid the bill. At first I felt powerful and clever, finding a new way to not pay for meals, but soon I simply felt guilty and embarrassed.
One day, as I was reading one of the philosophical works of Tran-Zu, five of my best librarian friends came over to where I had camped for the day. Vira, one of the more attractive librarians, gave me a parcel. In the parcel was a large pink skirt, a blue tunic, and a green sash: the outfit of a Regional Librarian. I burst into tears of joy. Finally I could live in the same world as my friends as an equal. Vira hugged me as a cried, and I couldn’t help but notice that he had the most amazing skirt legs I had ever seen. Later that night I made love to Vira. He was frustrated by how easily I would get out of breath during our activities. We kept close to each other because we were admiring each other’s beauty, our shared thought being, “If I can have that, I must be amazingly beautiful.” Shallow as my fling with Vira was, it gave me a wonderful gift; it broke the spell Heigen had put on me so many cycles ago. As I left Vira’s house, his sister, Ulta handed me a small piece of paper and told me not to look at it until I had walked back to my dorm.
After walking two blocks I was winded, my tail sore from being dragged on the concrete. I was seriously considering getting a wheel bracelet for my tail. It was then that temptation won me over and I looked at the note. In it was a picture of me and Ulta making love. My body was drawn in great detail so I could only assume she had watched my exploits by some remote means. I traveled as fast as my sore legs could propel me to the siblings’ house, where Ulta was waiting for me. She was a pale shade of green and her teeth were fairly flat, but the intensity of her lust for me compensated for whatever physical imperfections she had.
I have lived with Vira and Ulta ever since that night, working at the library I love by day and bedding one of the siblings during the dark hours. I eventually got the tail bracelet when my weight started interfering with work. Now instead of referring to me as Quzrina, everybody calls me Fat Quzrina, which I don’t mind. My life has been a very charmed one. I would even venture to say I am the luckiest girl on Gib Prime.
Watches, Green Vodka and One Silk Novels
by Tragdor
[Author's Note: This is a sci-fi life story about an inhuman protagonist with a an ambiguous gender. There is a weight gain theme to the story, but its not a WG driven plot (I started off wanting to write a soft sci-fi story and weight gain just happened to happen in it). I haven't gotten much feedback on this, so anything you have to say is welcome.] by Tragdor
I was born on the forest moon of Padrish-La on the 3,331th year of the Roark Imperial calendar. My birthplace was a monastery run by Dulra Shamans. My mother had given birth to me in this place because of the strange blue markings on her wrists and ankles that appeared during her pregnancy. The Shamans thought I might be the seventh reincarnation of the Durla, destined to take apart everything in the universe so it may start again with a more perfect design.
I was not the person the Shamans were looking for. While the Durla is both creator and destroyer, I was neither. I was simply curious and bored of the tedious rituals, such as the constant construction and deconstruction of the monastery’s clock tower. After 168 cycles I finally ran away from that place. Just as the food supplies I packed ran out, I arrived at the village of Vory.
Vory is a trading hub were local farmers ride in on their landcrafts full of rice and beans. The Village Magistrate collects them and judges each farmer’s contribution to the area. The Magistrate then assigns each farmer a set amount of necessities for his or her trade and a number of luxury stamps that may be spent on a plethora of enjoyments not considered essential to the community.
The people of Vory were quick to notice my status as a Durla runaway because of my ponytail and yellow robes. I met with the village Magistrate, who had experience with other ex-Durla Shamans. There it was decided that my profession would be watchmaker. I found it ironic that I had escaped the responsibilities of being a reincarnation of the ultimate war Guru, but I had not escaped the burden of clock making. Overall, though, my life in Vory was an improvement. In place of endless repetition I had creativity, and in place of The Eternal Rituals I had girls. Puberty hit me like a charging lizard-wolf; my voice cracked, I shot up in height like a patch of birchberries, the fins on my back finally grew out, and the hearty local smoked meats had given me a bit of a belly.
For all my teen awkwardness, I was still the luckiest youthling in the entire village. I became the Village Magistrate’s daughter chosen rumpsringa. The Magistrate class knew that sexual intermixing between classes was inevitable; therefore it had to be ritualized and controlled. Members of the Magistrate class could choose one peasant that they would enter into a sexual relationship with. Some Magistrates stay with their chosen rumpsringa for life. Others simply end the relationship within hours.
Heigen, the Magistrate’s daughter, had chosen me because she assumed my training had made me different from all the other youthlings in the village, and that I would make every moment more memorable by my uniqueness. I was happy to be her rumpsringa due to her immense beauty. All her features seemed like they were crafted with a water-knife out of a large block of glasstone. Her teeth were pointy, her feet were wide, her nose was upturned, her pink hair went all the way to her tail, her breasts and ass were large and cumbersome, and her back and arms were tattooed with bright golden letters of a language I could not read.
For 26 cycles I served as Heigen’s rumpsringa until she grew weary of me. My ignorance, my constant curiosity, my sexual skills, and my relatively exotic past no longer provided her with the distinctiveness she sought. I wept in dismay and vowed that I was done with both clocks and women. Not wanting any reference point to remind me of Heigen, I signed up as an indentured servant at the local Spacing Guild registry. The considerable paunch I had developed during my easy life as a rumpsringa had fooled the registry clerk into thinking I was some manner of cook. Not many people of my social stature weighed as much as I did, and my weight was one of my unique features Heigen delighted in. She was always poking my love handles, rubbing my belly, or squeezing my plump thighs until I giggled.
I was assigned to an R-Class frigate named Certainty. Certainty’s primary cargo was wood lobsters. Padrish-La was full of wood lobsters but nobody there bothered to eat them because they were so rough. On the inner ring planets chefs would cook them for three days straight to soften them up, and they were considered a delicacy. My assignment as a cook worried me greatly. My first night on Certainty I dreamed they discovered my lack of cooking abilities and I was thrown out of an air lock. I awoke covered in sweat and breathing heavily. I climbed down from my bunk and stared at the ship’s other cook, Yotary. Inside his head were the practices and rules I needed to become a cook. I felt I had no choice other than to use my Mind-Sight. As I entered the necessary trance my scalp burned, my eyes watered, and my mouth tasted of skunk-wine. Bright pulsating lights appeared before me and with every vibration my head hurt more. The trance went on like this for three minutes, but pain has a funny way of messing with one’s perception of time. I climbed back to my top bunk, wondering if the Durla Shamans of my childhood had sensed what I had done, or if they even remembered me.
For 15 Padrish-La cycles I worked as one of the chefs on Certainty. Yotary was rather curious how I knew all of his Gong-Shi ethnic recipes. I told him that a flock of his people acted as herders on my planet and that I had spent 3 cycles with them one summer, and had learned from them. That seemed to flatter the old man. Looking back on the situation, he did do things to imply that he may have fancied me to some extent. He always touched my spine fins and breathed heavily into my ears while I cooked. I really can’t blame him for his lechery, though. He was permanently indentured to the Spacing Guild due to the debts of his flock, so he was lonely for both his homeland and sexual company.
My time as cook only served to make me more fat and lazy than I already was. My days consisted of nothing but cooking, feasting, drinking green vodka, playing Soben Rat Rumble, and sleeping. Fat accumulated on every part of my body. Even my tail was getting rather heavy. When my belly had gotten so large and low-hanging that it covered my genitals I began to simply drag my tail behind me instead of hoisting it up like proper etiquette stated I should. My tail dragging reminded me of Fat Tull from Vory. Fat Tull was so heavy that she had to have a special bracelet with wheels on her tail. Tull was gigantic by anyone’s standards, and must have weighed at least five Imperial freight measurement stones.
At the end of my indenture I was dropped off on Gib Prime, the Imperial Regional Capital of Sector 17. I had exchanged my discharge money and my Rat Rumble money for Imperial silk dollars on the planet of Stonethrow. A similar exchange could have taken place on Gib, but the regional capital was notorious for its crooked exchange rate officials.
I really didn’t have any idea what I would do on Gib Prime. I figured that since the planet was so full of people a plan would likely find me before I ever found it. Unfortunately, I wasn’t that lucky. I wandered from place to place with my money supply shrinking. Eventually I stopped staying in motels and dormitories and began to sleep in public buildings. In a moment of desperation I even interviewed for a job as a watchmaker, but my skills where rough and not suited for the delicate timepieces favored by the Gibian public. I couldn’t even beg successfully; who would give silk pieces to a fat beggar?
Eventually I ended up sleeping in the Grand Regional Library every night, which was terribly understaffed. There was simply no way the security staff could patrol the entire collection, which made it the ideal place to spend the night. The stacks of books reminded me of the way Heigen read stories to me after we had made love. She had always read from large brown tomes with a gold spine. I tried to find the books that she read to me in the library, but I didn’t remember the titles so my search was fruitless.
I began to stay in the library during the day as well. It was safer and warmer than outside. I spent my days reading books: gaudy romance novels, dashing tales of sky pirates, and murder mysteries with at least four twists. Whenever I was hungry I would go outside and get the free food that the Altruist Reformers League was giving out to the downtrodden. I was given four times the food that most beggars got from the Reformers because I was able to spin yarns about having a poor and sick family that I was taking care of.
As I read more I became bored with the one-silk novels that originally amused me. Tales that I enjoyed cycles earlier, now seemed predictable and trite. I began to ask the librarians book recommendations instead of just grabbing whatever had the prettiest cover. I even began to become friends with some of the librarians. Like them, I was at the library every day. They would invite me out to bars and restaurants to talk about all the new books we were reading. I didn’t have any money to pay my tabs, so I ordered a quarter of what I would usually eat and my new friends paid the bill. At first I felt powerful and clever, finding a new way to not pay for meals, but soon I simply felt guilty and embarrassed.
One day, as I was reading one of the philosophical works of Tran-Zu, five of my best librarian friends came over to where I had camped for the day. Vira, one of the more attractive librarians, gave me a parcel. In the parcel was a large pink skirt, a blue tunic, and a green sash: the outfit of a Regional Librarian. I burst into tears of joy. Finally I could live in the same world as my friends as an equal. Vira hugged me as a cried, and I couldn’t help but notice that he had the most amazing skirt legs I had ever seen. Later that night I made love to Vira. He was frustrated by how easily I would get out of breath during our activities. We kept close to each other because we were admiring each other’s beauty, our shared thought being, “If I can have that, I must be amazingly beautiful.” Shallow as my fling with Vira was, it gave me a wonderful gift; it broke the spell Heigen had put on me so many cycles ago. As I left Vira’s house, his sister, Ulta handed me a small piece of paper and told me not to look at it until I had walked back to my dorm.
After walking two blocks I was winded, my tail sore from being dragged on the concrete. I was seriously considering getting a wheel bracelet for my tail. It was then that temptation won me over and I looked at the note. In it was a picture of me and Ulta making love. My body was drawn in great detail so I could only assume she had watched my exploits by some remote means. I traveled as fast as my sore legs could propel me to the siblings’ house, where Ulta was waiting for me. She was a pale shade of green and her teeth were fairly flat, but the intensity of her lust for me compensated for whatever physical imperfections she had.
I have lived with Vira and Ulta ever since that night, working at the library I love by day and bedding one of the siblings during the dark hours. I eventually got the tail bracelet when my weight started interfering with work. Now instead of referring to me as Quzrina, everybody calls me Fat Quzrina, which I don’t mind. My life has been a very charmed one. I would even venture to say I am the luckiest girl on Gib Prime.
