In season three of Orange Is the New Black, Suzanne (a.k.a. “Crazy Eyes”) writes a sci-fi erotica series, Time Hump Chronicles, that becomes a massive hit among a contingent of women at Litchfield. Vulture commissioned erotic and historical-romance writer Alyssa Cole to give us a taste of what the big fuss is all about. Note: This is a piece of erotic fiction! It may not be suitable for work.
“I just want to say, I’m also on Team Rodcocker, but I like that dude you introduced in chapter three who was made of Vaseline. Ooh, I don’t know why, but that shit was hot … but also tragic.”
Time Hump Chronicles, Chapter 3: “Vaseline Dude”
Everyone in the cantina was staring at Edwina. The eyes of the group of Saturnine miners stretched on their stalks in her direction, like she was the last bit of sun before the sulfur clouds moved in. The Kuiperian bartender must have counted every freckle dusted across her ample bosom with those cloudy blue eyes of his. There were 59, if he really wanted to know. Gilly had told her that, and Gilly didn’t lie.
Edwina gave a bitter laugh as she raised the fermented glucose to her lips. Gilly. If not even the purest soul in the universe could break Space Admiral Rodcocker’s hold on her, she was well and truly lost. Even now she carried out a mission at the Time Humper’s bequest. She was dolled up like one of the space station’s Pleasure District girls and about to trade her body for information; meanwhile, he was probably two cocks deep in one, or several, of his women. It didn’t matter that his lovers were in different dimensions. Just thinking of the others who shared in Rodcocker’s bifurcated pleasure made her head pound harder than a botched temporal leap.
She heard the squish of petroleum in Federation-issued gravity boots — the obscene sound triggering a grasping need between her thighs — before a thick, burbling voice slicked into her eardrums. “Edwina. If I’d known all it took to get a date with you was smuggling info from the Intergalactic Data Bank, I would’ve done it years ago.”
She turned to the man slowly, schooling her features so they wouldn’t show the revulsion he induced in her. She’d shared her body with worse men than him — she hadn’t discovered her model of robodoll was pee-proof by accident. If she had to fuck a walking oil slick to get what she wanted, at least she wouldn’t smell like a urinal after.
The man’s clothing was standard for a Petrolisian: The special material clung to the hydrocarbonates in his skin, meaning it was as malleable as he was. Petrolisians weren’t exactly aliens; they’d been genetically engineered to work the dry, windblown terra of Mars. Their paraffin-laced skin was perfect protection against the elements that had plagued other species. Later, after they’d infiltrated the field camp of the bioengineering company that created them and taken it over from within, the universal powers that be realized that their ability to shift and morph could have other, more lucrative, uses.
His gelatinous gaze fixed on her lips as they wrapped around the straw of her drink. She let the indigo tip of her tongue touch the straw first; not very subtle, but subtlety was his job, not hers.
“You’d risk so much for the Time Humper?” he asked. “After everything that’s passed between you?”
“I could ask the same of you, Vaseline Dude.” She caught the bartender’s cool gaze and nodded at him. When he brought her the bill, there was a key card hidden beneath her argento, which would be a few thousand credits shorter next time she checked her account. Private rooms weren’t cheap anywhere on Cataania 2217, even at dumps like this.
“I’m not here for Rodcocker. I’m here for you.” Vaseline Dude patted his pocket and, again, Edwina was met with that indecent squish that made her think of thick, heavy lengths driving deep into her every orifice. Of the last time she had been with Rodcocker and the ten-gallon load of splooge that had dripped down her thighs for days after.
“Let’s get this over with,” she said. She couldn’t be sure, since his face was in a semi-solid state and shifted at will, but she thought she saw sadness pass over his features. Surprise stopped her in her tracks and guilt slapped her in the face like Rodcocker’s swollen pangolin. It was just the light reflecting off of his pretrolates, she told herself.
The Saturnine eye stalks still followed as she walked out of the bar, the crass chatter of their click-based language reminding her of the summer cicadas during one of her visits to Earth.
Edwina slid her key into a console in the vestibule, and the walls retracted with a soft snickt. They stepped into an incongruously sleek elevator — this baby went up to the top level of the space station. It had cost her, but she needed the utmost privacy if she were to complete this mission and ensure that Rodcocker’s purple love muscle wouldn’t face the rigors of the orgasmator. No one survived that brutal ride, and Edwina couldn’t live in a dimension where Rodcocker didn’t exist.
Vas was quiet as they walked down the interminable hallway toward their suite, except for his squelching with each step. Edwina had thought she wouldn’t be able to pretend she wanted this, but each lewd sound stoked that filthy part of her that wanted nothing more than to be naked and sated and slick. Unexpected anticipation unfurled in her belly, and her breath went fast and shallow. Her mind wanted Gilly and her heart wanted Rod, but her pussy was quite alright with whatever Vaseline Dude was going to give her when they reached their destination. She hoped semi-solid didn’t apply to every part of him.
As soon as they walked into the room, he slammed the door behind them so they stood in the darkness. “Walk over to the bed and turn on the light. Then take off your clothes, slowly. Don’t look at me.”
His voice …
Something had changed in his mucusy tone. It was a little less jellylike, and frighteningly familiar. She did as he ordered, though. The thin metallic material of her anti-gravity halter dress slid down her torso and pooled at her feet. She moved to take a step, but her spiky heel caught in the drain built into the room’s floor. She stepped out of the shoes instead. He’d walked in slow, measured steps since he arrived at the cantina, but he moved toward her so quickly that she didn’t even hear him before his hands were on her. She’d expected his touch to be oily and unnerving; instead, it was warm and only slightly slippery, like that of the masseurs in sector seven of her home world. She leaned into it and he gurgled a laugh.
“You like that, hm?” His slick palms passed up her waist and over her rib cage at a glacial pace, teasing her, until finally he cupped her breasts in his hands. His thumbs ran over her nipples as he squeezed, sending short bursts of pleasure down her spine where they gathered in a writhing, electrical nest between her legs. She arched her back, pressing her chest forward for more of his touch, and when her ass brushed against his groin she knew that she wouldn’t have to worry about the semi-solid problem. He was hard and thick … and harder and thicker.
“How?” she gasped. She would know the girths of those two cocks anywhere, the indentations of flanges. She started to pull away, but Vas slid one of his hands down her stomach. His fingers pressed against her clit, rubbing in a tight slick circle that stole both her breath and her reason.
“The Intergalactic Data Bank keeps very detailed records, and when I downloaded the Time Humper’s info for you I took some liberties,” he said. When he spoke, it was clear and deep. Rodcocker’s voice. He stroked her clit harder and turned her to face a mirrored wall so she could see the well-moisturized duplicate of the man she loved pressed up behind her, pleasuring her. “I’ve waited a long time to be with you, Edwina. I didn’t want to see disgust in your eyes if this was my only memory.”
She felt a pain in her heart, even as a gasp of pleasure escaped her lips. When she was with Rodcocker, he was never fully present — fucking his way across dimensions meant he was always in another place and with another woman even as he made her scream. But this Rodcocker had eyes only for her. His reflected gaze was a little vitreous, but she could still see the intense emotion reflected there.
“Vas …” she should have told him to stop, to revert to his previous form, but some twisted part of her knew this was the only time she’d ever revel in Rod’s sole attentions. “Fuck me,” she said through gritted teeth.
Vas held her gaze in the full-length mirror as he pushed into her tight pussy, his ridged manhood sliding over the hypersensitive nanomembranes inside of her. Edwina had thought she’d known fullness before, but being with Vas was different. His movements were sinuous and strong, and his cock was much heavier than one made of true flesh. He seemed to grow within her with each stroke, swelling as he expanded his petrolates to caress every inch of her canal.
“I can’t take it,” she cried out as he pumped into her.
“You can and you will,” he said. His voice wavered between his own and Rodcocker’s as he let out a groan of pleasure. His hands gripped her ass and spread her cheeks as he worked his second cock into her tight anal ring. Even with his naturally lubed state it was slow going, but when he was finally in her to the hilt — or the hilts, rather — erotic bliss sparked through her. The intensity of their shared passion threatened to burst her circuit board.
They didn’t talk anymore. The only sounds were their grunts and the rhythmic squish and slurp as he worked in and out of her orifices. Thrust after thrust of double-donged power rammed into her until she was no longer sure what was fantasy and what was reality. “Rod!” she cried out, and then shook her head and met his gaze in the mirror. The sex haze lifted for a moment as she reached behind her and let her fingertips sink into the waxy skin of his forearm. “Vas.”
He thrust into her one last time and she cried out, her vocal mics nearly blowing out at the intensity of the orgasm. She felt raw as he pulled out of her and dropped the info chip onto the unused bed beside them, and it wasn’t just because he’d banged her harder than a Venusian mine charge.
No one had looked at her like that since Gilly, and the real Rod never would.
“I think you have everything you need from me,” he said as she pulled her dress back on.
I’m sorry, she wanted to say. The ray gun in her pocket seemed heavier than its 50 grams now. She’d been told to make sure there were no loose ends …
Suddenly, the paraffin fingers that had just brought her to ecstasy clamped over her mouth. Had he figured her out?
“There’s a group outside the door. They’re trying to be quiet, but their vibrations jiggle my petroleum with each step.” A bright light exploded at the door as the Saturnine miners — Federation spies — from the cantina exploded in a click through the door, ray guns pulsing to show they were loaded and ready to fire.
“Open a wormhole, now!” Vas shouted. Edwina placed her hand against the wall and began running the algorithms in her mind that would unlock the gateway through the space-time continuum. As the dark hole edged with blue light began to grow, Vas turned to her. “Next time, you should shoot me before the sex.”
Shock froze her, then there was sound of ions passing through air. She moved, but not of her own accord. Vas had whirled to absorb all the impact of the rays. “Go!” he said as he began to lose structural integrity. It seemed the drain would get some use after all.
Edwina slipped through the wormhole. Her mission had been accomplished, and Rodcocker would be spared. The Saturnines had even saved her the trouble of an assassination.
When tears slipped down her Vaseline-moist cheeks, she didn’t wipe them away.