Zena's Dream

A little intersteller romance.

Zena’s Dream

       Light travelled in bursting flashes of energy through the vast distances between the stars, reflecting against the surface of the detection panels on the spacecraft’s outer hull. It sped forward near the speed of light between galaxies and wormholes. Various gravitation factors directly determined how the central guidance system steered the ship. It was an ancient program built within the vessel’s structure as sophisticated as the neural synapses that fired within the sole occupant’s brain.

She lay on a mattress woven of silk-like silver threads designed to monitor her body temperature as she slept. Carefully adjusted fans produced gentle currents of air to maintain her comfort. She didn’t have a stitch on, her greenish-blue skin carefully scrutinized by eight moving cameras that watched not only the image of her hairless body’s every move, but x-ray imagery of Zena’s biological processes. The ship’s brain " the main computer " managed not only what she was to consume to sustain her, but to prepare her body for the mission she was embarked.

       Zena softly moaned and rolled over onto her back, her left breast shuddering as its bulk centered onto her rib cage. The aureole well over an inch and a half in diameter, the n****e pushed out almost a third of an inch in delicate anticipation. Her right breast bent down toward her right armpit, its aureole a duplicate of sensual expectation. Both were a dark blue color that would produce the revered milk for the child her body was to produce. Reaching up to her face, Zena rubbed the side of her head with the back of her hand near her closed eyes, reacting to some image in her mind as she dreamed. Her lips parted, revealing pearl white teeth. The nostrils of her nose twitched as her reverie added some alien odor to her sleeping mind. Her arms and legs were smooth, elegantly effeminate yet vigorous and strong. Most of her skin was the same greenish-blue color, but it became light blue in her armpits, where the skin was folded beneath her large breasts, behind her knees and elbows, and around the recesses of her vagina. Having ten fingers and ten toes, just like any healthy child, her fingernails and toenails were naturally the same pearl white as her teeth. Her ears were elfish, pointed at the top and moved with the expressions of her face. Her large cranium sloped up gently.

As Zena’s dream became a nightmare, she briskly rolled over onto her belly, crying out in fear. Pushing up onto her knees, Zena opened her large dark eyes and stared at the control panel near her sleeping quarters, dropping her jaw. Her hands opened up in front of her chest in an expression of fear. Her huge irises dominated the shape of her face, and her thin nose sloped down to sit above her broad lips; her jaw angled sharply to her chin. The whites of her eyes reddened as teardrops rolled down the sides of her head to disappear on her chest.

       “Zora, I saw the human people, and they were so beautiful.” Zena’s face normally had a smile that formed small dimples around her mouth. But the smile had faded, leaving Zena with a very sad expression. “But they drew their terrible guns and were killing one another!”

“And then they pointed the gun barrels at you and you had to kill them all.” Zora answered as she always had. Zora was the programmed intelligence that managed the operation and functions of the ship, along with the rearing and training of the young woman assigned to travel to the fabled planet Earth for a specific purpose. “Were you able to control the defense weapon enough to leave one alive?”

       “No, I wasn’t!” Zena grasped her face with her hands, her fingers trying to control the angst in her mind. “After I stopped shooting out the energy, everyone was dead, burned to cinders.” She sat back with her legs in front of her and wrapped her arms around her knees, lowered her eyes and her head, and she moaned.

       “Zena, the dreams are there to warn you, to help you avoid what could happen.” Zora reassured from the depths, the artificial intelligence of the ship. “The dreams are not what shall happen, but what can happen if you are not careful.”

       “Yes, I understand.” Zena cried, and eventually the water that came from her eyes when she was sad slowed to a stop. “It’s just that I want him to hold me now. I want him to kiss me and mount me and smile for me. I’m so different from the human people, but I want to be among them so much.”

       “Much more evolved dear; smarter, faster, far more tolerant and technologically advanced.” Zora had been saying this to Zena all her life, especially that elongated word that was fun to say: technologically. “You need to stay in control, Zena. Everything will be fine. Now go back to sleep and I’ll awaken you when we get to the Sol system.”

       A small metal door opened in the deck near her foot and a crystal glass rose up, filled with dark red fluid; rose’ wine. Zena’s sadness ended the instant the pleasing liquor touched her lips and her large eyes gazed lovingly at the computer console. The dimples rising with her smile, her face glowed with the natural beauty of her people, a population of very limited number. After drinking the wine she placed the crystal glass back on the small platform that produced it, and knelt in front of the console, crossing her arms and bowing her head as the crystal goblet sank back into the deck and the small door closed.

       “Blessed be the word of the Lord.” Zora’s words surrounded Zena’s body and mind. “Let the will of God give us the grace to let go and put our faith in him. Praise him forever and ever. Amen.”

       “Amen.” Zena replied.

Her tears and fears were gone. Her smile remained as she lay down onto the soft, warm mattress. As a soothing breeze flowed over her sleek legs, robust hips, belly, and breasts; Zena’s eyes closed. The next dream she had was not a nightmare by any means. It was of a beautiful Earthling, a wonderful man with blue eyes, expressive hands, and white hair on his delectable lips. It wasn’t important where the dream came from or what it meant per se.’ All that mattered was the mission’s success and the human man in her mind, especially his hands.

 

Bill Wilcox was sick and tired of driving down the New Mexico highway. His old Winnebago was a classic out the seventies, so it got lousy mileage. The air conditioner worked okay, but it wasn’t efficient enough to keep the RV cool unless driving fast down the highway. At night it worked well enough, and when the morning would come the heat would follow directly. Bill’s destination was Arizona; a small town outside Phoenix called San Carlos where his niece Michelle had two kids, a nice house with a big mortgage, and no husband or job. On the other hand Bill had a military pension, a couple of grand in cash, and the Winnebago.

He also had about a year and a half to live according to that prick of a doctor back in Littlerock. Bill once had a strong heart as a Boatswain’s mate in the Navy, but they’d washed him out seven years prior. Now he was just another retiree with an old RV, a seasoned face, and a heart that was steadily growing weaker according to that a*****e doctor back east. He’d been married a couple of times to women that couldn’t resist the easy pickings of scabby men when Bill’s ship would leave port, but there were no children that were his. All the family he had was his baby sister Lucille living in Tampa, and her daughter Michelle living in Arizona. Bill was looking forward to tossing a baseball around with his two nephews.

As the road flew by at just over sixty miles an hour, Bill must have passed twenty people, hitchhikers that he just didn’t have the patience to help out. It cost him way too much to gas up around two that afternoon. The sun was kind enough to finally set at about seven that evening when Bill turned down what looked to be a deserted dirt road to find a good place to park for the evening where he could relax with a couple of beers, and to eat his supper of two cold sandwiches and an apple in peace. He found what was once a lot for a mobile home, parking the Winnebago where he could face the road to see anybody approaching, but where he could also start her up and drive away with little hesitation. Tomorrow he’d be in Arizona, and hopefully tomorrow night he’d be sleeping in the bedroom his niece had promised.

The sandwiches were okay, too much mayonnaise. The apple was delicious, cleansing his teeth and his palate. There were two cases of Bud in the exterior storage bin, two sixers in the refrigerator. He had an old Coleman lamp that he hung over the side door after it got dark to save the Winnebago’s batteries. After downing four beers Bill broke out his old six-string guitar, strumming away at some old tunes that used to help him sleep when he was at sea. Sitting there on his old lawn chair, drinking semi-warm-semi-old beer, playing some old blues riffs, Bill’ frame started to doze off in the desert night air. It wasn’t the sound of the big RV pulling up near the makeshift campsite that startled Bill from his slumber, but the flash of light that seemed to almost blind him. He stood up and dropped his guitar to the ground, almost falling down as the long, metallic motor home pulled up and parked in the middle of the dark dirt road.

Bill didn’t have a gun with him, one of the reasons he didn’t pick up hitchers, and realized he didn’t need one when he saw the woman that emerged from the sleek, swanky motor home; without question she was the woman of his dreams. She looked to be about twenty-five years old with dirty blonde hair down to her bare shoulders. Standing about five foot three, she was thin, buxom, and absolutely gorgeous with big brown eyes above a dazzling smile. She had a crystal wine glass in her hand and wore a cotton sundress that left little to the imagination. Bill rubbed his ruddy cheek with his palm, thanking God in his mind that he’d shaved that morning. Her voice was soft and sweet; reminding Bill of the first time he ever kissed a girl in his youth (a memory long lost to him until then).

“Greetings sir.”

Bill stood five foot ten inches and weighed about two hundred fifteen pounds. He had brown hair that rolled over his ears and his collar, and he had a mustache peppered with white. Being fifty-three years old and overweight, his once solid, muscular build was now tired and pudgy, but his smile was genuine and his teeth were all good and white. His blue eyes were captivated immediately with this woman’s hair, her body, but especially her eyes; big and brown, stunning. He was sure that he was far too old for her and that she probably wouldn’t want an old fart like him. Still her smile, her dress, and her eyes ignited a desire that had long been dormant in his very soul. There was little to say to the lovely creature.

“Can I help you, miss?” It was all he could think of. He broke his gaze toward her to reach down and pick up his guitar from the dust at his feet. “Do you need directions or anything?”

“Oh no, thank you sir.” she replied. “I was hoping that maybe you’d like some company. I heard you playing the guitar and hoped that maybe you’d play some more, … for me.”

She took a drink from her wine glass after saying that, looking at Bill with an unusual look in her eyes. It was weird that she had heard him playing the guitar. He’d basically fallen asleep after playing just a few tunes half an hour ago or so. Still, she’d said she wanted some company and she was drop dead gorgeous. Plus, by the looks of her ride it didn’t look like she was in want, least of all for money. Looking into her face, Bill started to smile as he thought of kissing the young woman, and his smile was reflected back to him with the return of hers.

“Please, join me.” Bill had another lawn chair in the Winnebago and he reached up behind the door to pull it out. “Would you like a beer?” The woman sat in the chair he’d been sitting in.

“No thank you, sir.” she replied. “I have wine. Would you like some?” Anything this lady offered was going to be accepted with gusto, lest he go back to Littlerock in a dress.

“I’d just love some of your wine, miss.” Bill said as he sat down in the other chair with his guitar, making sure it was properly tuned. As she stood up and strode to her RV, he could not take his eyes off her dress and her hair and her bare feet as she disappeared inside.

Over the years the problem of what song usually kept him from playing, let alone singing. But that night the songs rolled out of him as if his singing was what motivated the old Winnebago to roll down the highway. He played with unusual accuracy and skill, and he found that he couldn’t sing as high as he once had. It was uncanny how when he stopped because the height of the note in the song was too high, the young woman sang it for him perfectly, and her voice was fantastic.

The wine was exquisite, elegant as the glass it was served in. It was some kind of superior vintage he’d only heard about that costs hundreds and thousands of dollars a bottle. After his third glass it should’ve made him sleepy and drunk, but it did quite the opposite. There was a song he’d been trying to learn for years that he played as if he’d recorded it ten years ago, and the young woman sang the last verse for him as she moved her chair closer to his. Her smile transformed into a gaze of desire Bill hadn’t seen in a woman’s face for decades. When the last chord of the last verse was over, she took his hand, pulling it away from the neck of the guitar and into the bounty of her dress.

The guitar found its way back to the dust at his feet and his feet found their way to her RV as his hands found the abundance of her body. Her breasts and buttocks were firm and smooth. Her face reacted to his every touch as the young woman led Bill to a small bed in her apparent motor home. After the dress left her body her skin became a luscious feast to his tongue, his lips, and amazingly to his phallus. Her n*****s delivered love milk that drove his reawakened virility up in heated thrusts. He found the nectar of her body as delicious as the sublime wine of her glass as she arranged him in a sixty-nine position that drove him wild, and the lovers exploded together in orgasm. Then she lay down beside him gasping.

“Sir, can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.” he replied, heavily breathing and certain his heart would explode at any moment, but man it was worth it.

“What is your name?”

As he told her his full name she mounted herself on top of him, and her love became complete. She was incredibly sensual as her body heaved and shuddered and bucked upon his, withdrawing such a response from Bill’s passion that he could not help but yell out with all his might as he came.

And he came again, delivering to her body what she’d travelled such a great distance for. She lied down next to him again, taking his head into the pillow of her bust as he fell into a deep sleep.

Bill woke up the next morning fully dressed, sitting in his lawn chair as the dawn began to flash over the horizon. The young woman was sitting in the other chair, watching him with her breathtaking eyes.

“Thank you William.” she said. There was a profound tone of sadness in her voice. “Your love was wonderful sir.”

“My pleasure, darlin.’ “ Once again he was at a loss of words before her incredible beauty in the growing light of day. Then it came to him. “May I ask you a question?”

“My name is Zena.” she said, standing up and reaching out to him.

Her last embrace was a happy memory that seemed a dream until the day he died. Her body had changed somehow as she left his arms and walked to her RV. She withdrew another crystal glass of wine from within and handed it to Bill. Her eyes reddened and her smile became very sad as she removed her dress for the last time, folded it, and set it on the dusty ground next to Bill’s guitar.

“Goodbye.” he said.

“Goodbye, my love.” she replied.

As she stepped to her RV the color of her skin changed to greenish-blue and her sensuous dirty blonde hair disappeared, revealing her large skull and elven ears. She turned one last time to look at him, and Bill saw the incredible beauty of her sleek legs and arms, her breasts, her actual magnificent body. Her enormous eyes started to cry as the door of her RV closed. He held the crystalline glass up in a toast when she waved for the last time as he watched her sit down behind what appeared to be the driver’s seat. He drank the wonderful wine down in one gulp as the long metallic RV drove away. A few moments later Bill saw the silver triangular spacecraft zip by with three blinding lights, disappearing up into the sky.

 

It was done. Her inherent mission had been completed without any trouble, with no bloodshed that had previously come to Zena’s dreams in anticipation of the magnificent paradise of planet Earth. It took some time, but her weeping finally subsided as the long return journey began. The beautiful, greenish-blue woman had fallen completely in love with William Brandon Wilcox. There was nothing that could be done about how Zena felt about him. She would outlive the human man by at least four hundred years. But the child he had given her would live even longer than Zena’s short life that would last at least ten times longer than any human woman. It was a difficult aspect of the nature of her race, her species, of the science so much more technologically superior to that of Earth’s human people.

“You know Zora, Bill would’ve said that is a ‘ten dollar word,’ like ten dollars’ value is significant in any way.” Zena’s smile was returning as it occurred to her that she would bring forth a child just like herself who would have dimples in her smile. Zena’s reproductive system was very similar to that of Earth’s women.

“Yes.” Zora replied from the depths of the computer program that would ultimately be inhabited by Zena’s essence long after the child was born, long into the future. “He had a good voice and his guitar playing was lovely. Have you thought of a name?”

Zena looked into her mind at Bill as he drove the dilapidated Winnebago down the highway in the morning Arizona sunshine. His ailing heart had been completely rejuvenated, along with his libido and his reproductive glands. It sent a wave of love through Zena for the old human man to know he would not only live another thirty five years at least, but that he would father seven children after he reached his destination. Zena could see the face of the human woman that would become his next wife and pride raced through Zena’s being for her as well; she was a young college student friend of Bill’s niece. It seems he had a nice cotton dress for her.

Yes, Zena was going to miss the human man a great deal. But she had the memory of the smile on his face, the music that he played, and his wonderful love growing even now in her sublime body.

“Abigail.” Zena answered the computer program that had once been her mother, long ago after Zora had found similar love on the paradise of the planet Earth. Zora had reminded Zena to ask for the human man’s name countless times; she’d forgotten to so long ago; Zora had memories of a human man’s love as well. “It was his mother’s name.”

 

SR Urie

Reviews

[Kat Collins]

Very fascinating! What an intriguing concept. An alien woman needing to procreate with a human man in order to continue her race. Normally, a story like that turns out vulgar, mean, and violent, but this was done with such grace and beauty. It was a love story - not just about the physical act. Leaves me with a lot of questions about the why's and what for's, but the essence of the story is divine.

The only two comments I would make is 1) watch your tenses in the story. It alternates between present and past sometimes (it's a problem I always have). 2) "for the mission she was embarked." This phrase is a bit awkward. It's as though you're missing a word or two or need to rearrange the phrasing of the sentence.

[Emily B]

an exquisite story

[EMF]

Facinating. Wonderful concept, and handled with such maturity and style. A wonderful love story and marvelously handled. Great work

[Mike Winegar]

Excellent story line with good use of imagery. I agree with the comments of Jibey and Kat Collins. Apart from the slight grammatical errors, the story is a very good read.

[Jibey]

I came here at Kat's invitation, Usually I balk at redaibg long stories but this one held my interest. The sensual delight of Zena was well done and the tender feelings she had for her human mate were touching. He seemed an unlikely individual for such a treat but then the whole point, I suppose, was that here was a man with little distinction who found himself cvaught up in an inter-stellar drama.

Very well done,

Just a point -'she lied down beside him' .. You meant 'she lay down'... You use 'lied down' more than once. It's not grammatical.