THE KAEIN
 
by Bitter
 
 
The music pounded in Eria's ears as she circumnavigated the dance floor. It was the kind of music that pounded no matter how loud or how softly you played it. The heavy synthetic drum went THOOM, THOOM, THOOM, THOOM-BA-THOOM, THOOM, THOOM in the cadence of a heartbeat; it was the pulse of the entire club. The same rhythm flowed through everything. It wavered in the air, it pounded in the dancers, it throbbed in the heart of the girl in the corner and the blue-skinned man behind her. No sense was left out of the rhythm; lights flashed in cool hues in time with every beat. Purples and blues sparked up with the sound and blackened with the silence, always in motion, never still.
 
"Never still." It was a perfect description of this place, the club called "Ataraxia". Sequestered in a space station on the far rim of civilized space, where the mundane gave way to the weird, it was a place of total and eternal bacchanalia. At Ataraxia, all strangenesses were normalized in the pursuit of pleasure. There was only one law, strictly enforced: do what pleases you. The prudes, the uptights, the legals-- they had no place in Ataraxia. In Ataraxia, there was no sin and no shame, only satisfaction. So Eria had come, once again, to partake. She had only to find her place.
 
If appearance were the only geography, Eria would have been where she had wanted to be from the start. The Ataraxian clientele was uniformly under-dressed; they rejected the dishonesty of clothing for concealment. There was no prurience among them. But despite that, most everyone was clad in something or other for the utility of it, to hold up some sagging appendage or to create questions about what lay beneath. Eria ascribed to this latter theory of dress; her two articles of clothing consisted of a tight cloth wrap that drew her modest breasts even closer to her chest and a short, ruffled skirt that had no hope of concealing her bare womanhood if she made the slightest deviation from uprightness. On top of these she wore a few bangles and rings, shining things to catch the light and sparkle. Her face was done up with a conservative amount of makeup, just enough to exaggerate her features and juxtapose signs of civilization with the roughshod tussledness of her black hair. But the most important aspect of her appearance was that most central of components, her body itself. No-one who exposed themselves as the Ataraxians did could allow themselves to bare a body unfit for pleasure. Eria, though slender, had a tomboyish beauty about her: taut muscles pulled her slinky body to and fro in provocative sashays practically by reflex.
 
So full of kinetic energy, Eria first thought to go to the dance floor. Like iron entering a magnetic field, the change in her motions was instantaneous as soon as her feet hit the cold steel of the dance floor. She became a particle in the field, a single tiny mote in a sea of bodies likewise lost in the mutual attraction. She twisted and turned, directed by an unseen force through the massed crowd. In the chaos she found clarity: she wanted a mate. She wanted someone to be with, to hold close to her, to take into her, to unleash the wild energies of her body upon. She moved with the thumping of the drums, swaying her hips in a simplistic representation of what she desired. She took long steps that stressed her skirt's ability to keep her offering from view. She bent forward and bent backward, ostensibly dancing but actually crying out her willingness in the noiseless language of motion. But none came. Eria saw couples all around her; the other dancers were already paired off, intently focused on their partners, shut out from the world outside of their own private overtures. Eria's dance drifted across the floor, past the blazing screens and the pounding subwoofers. Finally she reached the border and dropped out, sweating, smiling, and frustrated.
 
Eria stood now in a darker corner of the club, looking on at the inhabitants of this particular section. Having been rejected-- or at least not accepted-- by the dance, she turned to this place. There was a thick haze of natural smoke, unlike the kind pouring from the machines on the floor designed to catch the light, and a heady, floral scent in the air. Fuzzy couches were laid about haphazardly; their residents were strewn across them with equal abandon. There was little motion among them but to take the embers in their hands nearer their mouths, thereby to draw their next chemical-soaked breath. Eria was no stranger to this place. There were worlds stranger even than this one to be seen through the filter of an altered mind, and Eria had journeyed into them at times. But tonight, something stayed her hand. One of the layabouts looked at her, and Eria could not help but feel that he was looking through her. His eyes were unfocused, his attention elsewhere. Eria knew he had not truly seen her, and in the blankness of his perceptions Eria felt a sudden sense of her own emptiness. She shivered and turned away, back toward the heat and the lust. She would not join those men tonight.
 
But she had to join with someone, that much Eria knew. If she could find no-one among the dance, and no-one among the borders, then there was another place she could try. Liberated as they were, the Ataraxians still knew the value of privacy. In the back of the club was a hallway, smoothly-painted and dimly-lit, in which those who had found their other (or others) for the night (or at least a short while) could see to each other apart from all the rest. Here, at times, the unconnected would come and wait for others like them, allowing Fate to guide them to their lover. For every chamber there was a curtain; if the curtain was closed, the occupants were not to be disturbed. Eria drifted down the hallway, some vapor of her previous encounter or something else numbing her mind slightly. Drawn curtains passed on either side in a disappointing parade while grunts and moans from beyond them spoke of the pleasures that Eria could not obtain. At last Eria's patience broke and she drew aside a curtain just slightly to look in. There, sitting upon a striped couch, was a creature, human-shaped but lizard-like, but oddly mammalian in crucial ways. On her lap sat a human woman, like Eria, entirely naked but in no way uncovered. A thick rope of glistening flesh wound around the woman's body from the lizard-woman's mouth, pulsing and squeezing around her each and every sensitive region. The lizard-woman caught sight of Eria and, without missing a beat, flicked her eyes in a way that indicated that she was sympathetic to Eria's plight but would prefer to minister to her partner alone. Eria graciously let the curtain fall back down and drifted away.
 
At last Eria came to an unveiled door. There was no such thing as an empty chamber in Ataraxia; as soon as one was vacated, some new party would come to fill it up. So Eria was unsurprised to find this room occupied. There was one and only one person, watching the door and waiting for company to join her. A woman sat on a black and white-striped couch, sipping something thick and opaque and purple from a wine-glass. Though she looked human, Eria knew, intuitively, that she was not. It could be guessed by simple statistics: few in Ataraxia were truly human; even though she herself was born of scientifically human stock, her genome was far removed from her distant ancestors by the tireless march of evolution. But it went beyond that; this woman was, at least outwardly, human in appearance. She was thick, matronly, looking as though she were in her mid-forties but perfectly maintained. Her deep brown skin contrasted strikingly with her mostly white bluish-tinged hair. But more striking still were her breasts. Well larger than her head each, they jutted out from her chest in twin sensuously piled mounds, capped with tremendous pale brown nipples. Her pale gray eyes caught Eria's, and the woman shifted to draw Eria's gaze further down. Spreading her stockinged legs open, she bared her naked pussy to Eria, which was clean-shaven save for a thin patch of tufty white above the top of her cleft. Even in the darkness of the woman's skin tone, Eria could see a little red in her cheeks. The invitation was obvious.
 
And yet, Eria felt a sense of peril as well. Information trickled through her mind, fed in from without. She knew without ever having learned that this woman was a kaein. Kaein preyed on other humanoids, pacifying them with an intense eroticism delivered through telepathy. Their prey-- it was hard to think of them as "victims"-- all went willingly, so overcome with lust that they desired nothing more than to be absorbed. It was difficult to tell how much the kaein really controlled their prey, but it was rumored that they always left a little doubt in their mind-- just enough with which to escape, if they really tried. Eria felt this little margin herself now, the little part of her that was able to see just how very little she'd been affected. But it was enough. She'd been trapped, pulled into an orbit in which she would gently descend. The kaein had her now. She was prey.
 
Eria felt her arm reach out, take hold of the curtain, and pull it closed. The kaein laughed softly. Her voice was as mocha as her skin; it oozed delightfully in Eria's ears. Their privacy assured, Eria felt comfortable disrobing as she made her way to her captor. Her fingers picked the sweaty band of cloth off of her breasts and pulled it over her head, then widened the elastic band of her skirt and peeled it down her legs. Her various rings, bangles, and earrings were divested one by one and thudded onto the shag carpeting. Eria paid no attention to where they landed; it didn't matter now. The music continued to pound outside, muffled through all the walls, and Eria felt her heartbeat synchronizing it. At last she reached the kaein, letting the alien appraise her bare body and the way the purple lights played off of her pale skin. The kaein took a last sip from her glass, leaned to one side, and set it down on an end-table. Returning to her former position, she looked Eria in the eye.
 
"Are you nervous?" the kaein said. With a voice such as the kaein possessed, the answer must have been "no". Yet Eria nodded. The kaein reached up and took Eria by the hair. Eria barely maintained her balance as the kaein gently but firmly pulled her in for a kiss, simultaneously clamping Eria between her legs. The soft caress of the kaein's stockings tickled Eria's skin and a taste like berries flooded her mouth, a remnant of the kaein's drink. Slowly, the kaein drew away and said, "Rela~x." Eria sighed and smiled. She knew what the kaein wanted. She saw it in the kaein's imagination, ghostly images that flickered in the back of both their minds. In those fantasies, the kaein was wrapping herself around Eria, drenching her with lubricating juices and drawing the human's slickened body into her own with heaving muscular contractions. Eria could already feel the intense heat of the kaein's body surrounding her, a memory fed to her from the kaein's prior companions through the kaein herself. She had ridden their minds into her own body, felt everything that they felt, given them the satisfaction of being the devourer as they themselves were consumed. The whole experience flooded into Eria's mind, just slightly gray, not entirely real. It was not the true experience that was playing through her mind. It was only an imitation, a memory. If she wanted the real pleasure, the total experience, she would have to trade something just as valuable...
 
Eria's smile drooped into a sigh. She knew how great a price the kaein demanded. She wanted to run away; maybe not to run exactly, but to turn and pick up her things and leave and return to the party, take another chance at the dance floor. But the question would gnaw at her, she knew. What would it have been like? If she left now, would she ever find the kaein again? Could she, as an Ataraxian, bear to know that she had considered superlative pleasure and rejected it? Not knowing whether they were her thoughts or the kaein's, Eria saw the delights of Ataraxia fading. To not know would poison every pleasure yet to come. None would ever compare to the fantasy, to the possibility that she had denied. She would live wondering if the kaein's embrace could have treated her better than every lover she would ever hold. It was simply too terrible a prospect. For a short while, Eria stared into the kaein's loving eyes, watching for a sign of treachery, some indication, however small, that what she had felt in the kaein's memories was not genuine. But she found none. Breathing deeply, she gently knelt in front of the couch, bringing her eyes level with the kaein's womanhood. "Please," she said, drawing out the word, paradoxically begging her predator to take her.
 
The kaein smiled down at Eria; it was a bright smile, an affirmation that filled Eria's heart with warmth. She had been... accepted. How strange it seemed in retrospect that she had ever been afraid of the very thing she now felt as though she'd been pursuing, and at last had attained! She watched with anticipation as the kaein placed both of her arms behind the couch, drawing her shoulders apart and parting her magnificent breasts. The kaein slowly, tantalizingly spread her legs apart and slouched, bringing her pussy right up to the edge of the cushions. Eria longed to simply dive straight into the kaein's folds, but some silent command told her wait for the final preparation. The kaein tilted her head back and tensed; her pussy-lips gently parted like a maw, widening beyond the capabilities of any human woman. Eria felt an erotic twinge at this breathtaking display of womanhood, of opening with the intent to envelop. All that was missing now was the penetration. Her time had come. Eria slowly closed her eyes, took several worshipful breaths, and leaned in to offer herself.
 
Eria was no stranger to women. Her tongue had tasted many lips. But the kaein's womanhood was a thing apart from every other sapphic lover she had ever known. It oozed lewdly, practically drooling around Eria's face. It wasn't merely like a mouth; it was a mouth, designed to devour and consume. Eria lapped at the bottom of it and felt the dripping folds undulate across her tongue. Were Eria but the tiniest bit further in, those motions would grab hold of her and pull her inside. Even as Eria thought of this, she felt the kaein's pussy-lips rolling around the sides of her head, kissing her temples, clamping down on her with surprising force. Eria made no move to resist nor to assist. The kaein's labia quite capably kneaded her inward until she crowned through. A gentle but firm pressure squeezed at Eria, drawing her in by the neck. It had started. The kaein had begun to take her.
 
Eria felt the kaein move, twisting at her waist and temporarily blocking Eria's passage. Two powerful grips took hold of her upper arms and forcefully curled them inward. Taking the hint, Eria willfully held her shoulders in that compressed position as the kaein's pussy worked its way down her face. The kaein's juices were coming so quickly that Eria could scarcely find room to breathe. Instead, she lapped at the fluids that were soaking her. In paying such attention to the kaein's walls, Eria felt the kaein slowing down. The kaein's flesh tensed up and squeezed all around her, and Eria felt the labia peeling away from her. In her mind's eye, she saw the kaein stretching incredibly, even more than at first, wrapping her gaping opening around Eria's shoulders. Incidentally, she saw the bulge that her head had created in the Kaein's belly, an incredible deformation that the kaein's body accepted with bizarre ease. With the new grip, Eria felt her body lurching ahead further with each contraction. Her head bumped up against a tight knot of flesh, and the contact caused it to relax and allow her through. She'd entered the kaein's womb.
 
The kaein sat back on the couch, again laying her arms behind her. The shoulders were the only real obstacle to taking a human, and now she had only to allow her body to do what was natural for it. Each heave of her womanhood sent a shockwave of pleasure through her. Even if she could have maintained her concentration, she would not have. All at once, the kaein relaxed the mental barrier between herself and her prey. Foreign sensations flooded Eria's mind, as vivid as if they were her own. She was the kaein; she was the dark-skinned woman with the small human messily squelching her way into her body. And she was Eria, the hedonist whose credo of pleasure had led her to this final throne of ecstasy. She was Eria in the kaein's mind and the kaein in Eria's mind. They were no longer two creatures; they were the process, they were the pulse of the music, the thick rhythm beating its way steadily to its conclusion. They were small, pert breasts being covered in vaginal slime, tamping down as the gateway closed upon them and tingling with nervous delight. They were skin folding over skin, consuming and being consumed. They dissolved into an abstraction of sexuality, flesh gliding across flesh with liquid between. They were elementally female, swelling and growing round as one set of thickened hips, moistened, dripping pussy, and plump and overfull cheeks was lasciviously subsumed meaty undulation by meaty undulation. Their completeness grew ever greater as the little white-skinned human's legs slurped into the kaein's now-slimming pussy. Eria's body was ever narrower and easier to consume. As each gorgeous tract of skin went inside, it forced out the oozing juices that eased the passage of the next. Inch by inch Eria's legs disappeared until there were only her feet, with her curling toes at the end. The kaein let out a triumphant gasp, pulled hard, and sucked in Eria's feet with a single heave. Her pussy-lips slapped shut, sealing Eria inside. A few squirming bulges told of Eria's alignment in her new home, and then the kaein's enormously distended belly was still.
 
It was cramped inside the kaein, but less than Eria had expected. The kaein's womb had expanded around her always, tensing just enough to mold her into a ball. The excess space was quickly filled with an embryonic fluid. Guided gently by the kaein's mind, Eria breathed it in. Even her instincts were in the kaein's control; she did not cough or sputter, nor did her lungs make any attempt to contract once filled. The kaein's womb was undulating softly around her, shuffling the liquid about, drawing the old out of her and replacing it with new. Eria's whole world was now warmth and fluid and stillness, the only reminder of her human existence the soft beat of her heart. Unlike all the other aspects of herself, which had become so muted and uninteresting, that gentle thudding was clear. Eria felt with stunning clarity the way each of her heartbeats sent the blood rushing through her veins. It delighted her to be such a perfect circuit, to feel the flow of warmth cycling through her in such lopes. And she felt, with excitement, the way her heartbeats became deeper and stronger as her skin tingled with an alien pleasure. Every bare inch of her, from her nose to her soles, was easing into an erotic ticklishness. Reflexively, Eria smiled at the sensation, even knowing, through the kaein's psychic link, that it was the beginning of the absorption process. Her body was softening, coming apart. The kaein sustained Eria's mind even as her body dissolved within the kaein's womb. She felt with bizarre clarity the way the liberated particles of herself drifted away from her body, touched some unknown receptor in the womb's walls, and were converted into something else, a mysterious energy that Eria had no need to define. She felt this life force flowing upward through the kaein, into the overfull stores of her breasts. Eria wanted, needed, to feel that divine transformation more. Her loosening muscles churned within her, willfully breaking up her form, slurring her every nerve into a single bundle of pleasure.
 
Only an indefinite mass now, Eria had no face with which to make the gesture, but the kaein sensed her happiness. As Eria's body became freer, the flow slowly increased. Adrift within her destroyed body, Eria laid back and allowed her consciousness to ebb. With every moment, there was less of her and more of the kaein. An image appeared in Eria's thoughts: the kaein, with a bulge in her belly that shrank by the second and her breasts writhing and swelling even larger as it did. She could feel the kaein's silent, heaving ecstasy at taking in the human's energy, storing it within those mountains of flesh. Drained of nearly everything, Eria felt a paradoxical expansion of her mind. She was becoming greater, becoming larger, feeling still more and more pleasure. She felt the kaein's pleasure and her own reflected through it. Slowly the two melted together, ebbing and flowing in beatific pulsation. The name "Eria" lost its meaning; there was only the beautiful kaein, the burgeoning fat on her curves and the delightful heat coursing through her veins. There was only that wonderful pattern of tension and release, growing tighter with every repetition. And then the two of them, the kaein and her pleasure, reached the pinnacle and flew together in perfect synchronicity. For how long they stayed in that erotic nirvana it is impossible to say; all that it certain is that, like all things, it came to a close. The pleasure lingered for a time, hot and humid, then sank into the kaein, becoming inseparably a part of her existence forevermore.
 
***
 
Author's Comments:
 
I used the word "Ataraxia" because I thought it sounded cool. As it turns out, "Ataraxia" is a state of perfect freedom from worry sought after by the Greek hedonists. I had no idea this was the case when I chose the word. O_o In fact, I'm pretty sure that my only contact with the word that could possibly have seeded it in my mind was the fact that a healer character from Phantasy Star IV has a skill called Ataraxia that removes all status effects from your party.
 
In the interest of full disclosure, I'll point out that this story was inspired by Nitro Titan's picture, "Clubbin' Momma", and the kaein's appearance is a direct transcription of Mom.E's in that picture. However, the kaein is not intended to be Mom.E, nor is this story approved or endorsed by Nitro Titan in any way (at this time).
 
I've been meaning to do more F/F (I've been meaning to get away from M/F in general, actually; I've paid my dues to that genre for a good while). The thing is, whenever I come up with a good F/F premise, it's always unbirth! I mean, there's nothing wrong with unbirth, but I kinda want to complete the quadfecta of sex combinations in oral vore, and F/F is just hanging out doing it's own thing. Argh. Well, whatever. My muse will eventually give me an F/F oral vore story. (My muse does not hang around in the comments section, I'd like to add.)