Give the Lady a Big Hand by Spline Duck

US Copyright Registered 1999


Give the Lady a Big Hand by Spline Duck

Editor's Note: The records of the organization known as
INTERSEX contain many fascinating and original events. As they
are edited and released, we hope to bring more of them to the
attention of the public. INTERSEX is officially the acronym of
Interstellar Scientific Expeditions (but everyone knows that
it really stands for Interspecies Sex; that's what makes their
bread and butter. SD

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"I hope this will be easier than the last one," said 591. "I
really hated that; that was just disgusting! I don't mind
being treated as a sex object, but I don't want to have
everything but the object removed."

I waited to see if he was going to continue the tirade. He
hadn't stopped since we left the last planet. I admit, it was
one of the more unpleasant assignments, but I didn't think it
was that awful. But then, I wasn't the one being dismembered.
I gave him a minute and then said, "You were a beautiful sex
object. When all that was left was the penis burrowing inside
of me, I experienced sensations I hadn't dreamed of."

591 grunted and said, "You! You just think of your own
feelings. I was the one who was reduced to a prick with a
brain. And not much of one at that! How would you . . ."

I kept my mouth shut. Pure male fantasy, and he's bitching.
People! All in all, I think men are more squeamish, but
INTERSEX agents don't usually complain this much; I wondered
what it was that so personally offended him. Oh well, the next
assignment looked easy.

I tried to divert him. "Look. The Fenn look like an easy case.
They're highly civilized. They're relatively passive. They
don't seem to have wars. They have separate sexes. They look
to be pretty much like humans. They don't mate very often, and
when they do, there's a special, spiritual ceremony. Piece of
cake."

"Their ceremony will probably turn out to be a state banquet
with me being the prize for the main course. I can see it now.
They'll just fatten up the next prize prick for the next state
dinner. They'll want it as big as possible so that it can
handle the task all by itself. When . . ."

I concentrated on landing. I didn't need to listen to it any
longer. The beacons were coming on below, and the tower was
broadcasting instructions about our path. The Fenn sounded
like such a calm and pleasant people; I hoped that 591 would
get into the spirit of things before we went to record the
mating ceremony. INTERSEX wouldn't like for us to have two
poor recordings in a row.

The Fenn head of state, the Oour, met us at the landing strip.
I greeted him with a bow. The Fenn seemed slightly birdlike.
Small, thin arms with large hands, their faces kind of pulled
out. Their skin sparkles slightly from many tiny scales.
Clearly, these aren't mammals.

The Oour greeted us with great formality, "I welcome you with
all my heart. Our people are honored that you should find us
interesting enough to visit our planet. We find it difficult
to understand what about our humble lives could draw you to
our world."

INTERSEX had already primed the Oour, so this was all
formality, and I had to act like this was all new to both of
us. "Thank you for you soothing words. Your society is the
most fascinating that we have ever encountered. The excitement
of your daily lives makes our lives seem pale by comparison.
We look forward to an exciting and educational interaction."

Formalities completed, we walked toward the reception
building. The Oour said, "We have been preparing for the
mating ceremony that you want to record. We are having our
usual problems getting a quorum together. I, myself, have
volunteered to participate. But it is going to be a day or two
more to finish the invitation list."

Wanting to understand the problem, I asked, "Could you explain
the difficulty, please. In our species, matings can take place
at any time. All we require is the simple consent of two
beings. Sometimes, we have more than two, but there are still
not time constraints."

"How unseemly!" the Oour replied.

Well, I thought, looks like the surface stuff in this culture
is pretty rigid. We might have to dig around a bit for the
real party. Addressing the Oour again, I asked for some more
details, but he seemed to have become withdrawn.

"Later, in my office, I will describe our rituals. Here, in
this public place, is unsuitable." Then, he stopped again.

In his office, we had a longer conversation. "Our people are
long-lived, and so we breed infrequently. When it happens,
groups come together and walk into the wilderness. In the old
days, when we lived in villages, it was very casual. When it
would be time, a few would walk into the bush. It is there
that we evolved and there that we still go for our mating
rituals. They take place out in the grasslands, out of sight
of the city. The participants, usually ten to fifteen, come
together and walk together out of the city."

591 asked, "Is there never any sexual activity here in the
city?"

"Unfortunately, a kind of industry has developed in certain
parts of the city. There, unproductive citizens prey on the
lonely. You have to understand that since we have come to live
in cities, there is not the same closeness that existed in the
villages. When the urge occurs, sometimes the circle of
friends is too small to support the ritual."

Well, this sounded promising! Despite the often unsocial and
often unsavory aspects, prostitution usually also carries a
certain high-intensity, somewhat risky flavor to it; after
all, much of prostitutes' stock in trade is acting. Their
performances have lead to some of the greatest recordings
published by INTERSEX. And in most cities, those areas weren't
too hard to find. If nothing else, we could do some
preliminary work to get set up for our main recording.

The Oour had continued while I was thinking. I picked up his
monologue again with, " . . . and we have arranged for you to
accompany us to our mating ground in about two days from now.
I, myself, will be part of the group, and I will be the
leader. You are invited to participate in any way that you
desire.

Bureaucratese is the same everywhere in the universe. It is
the truly universal language. And it is especially great
because, even if you don't understand a word of the language
being used, it doesn't matter. There's almost never any
content. So my mind drifted away. I knew we would get
everything we needed from his secretarial staff.

Eventually, the Oour ran out of stuff not to say. We escaped
to the street. "591, I'm starving. Let's go look for a
restaurant."

He said, "I asked where to go while we were in the Oour's
offices. There's a couple of places just a few blocks down
here. I hope they serve something we can eat."

Well, it wasn't so bad. The Fenn eat much the same kinds of
things we do, and to judge from the places we ate in, they
like similar flavors.

"That was pretty good." 591 said. "The wine is excellent, the
meat's tasty. Everything looks to be going well. The Oour is
going to make sure that we get a good recording. INTERSEX is
going to be happy. Gods, it'll be a nice change after that
last project."

I told him, "I have to agree that it looks good so far, but
I'd really like to get in a bit of a practice session with
these people. From the Oour's description, there must be some
brothels around somewhere."

591 smirked. He said, "Well, while you were finishing up with
the Oour, I wasn't only checking on food. It seems that this
neighborhood is well known for illicit activities, as well as
for its restaurants. There seem to be several interesting
locations just around the corner. The Oour may not have wanted
to talk about it, but it's common knowledge. The people I
asked were free with their information."

"I wonder about this assignment. These people seem pleasant
enough, but there's just no sense of passion. Sure, they walk
out into the bush and have sex, but there seems little deep
interest in it. The Oour's attitude was minor disapproval of
the prostitution, but no one seems to be much more interested
than if they were going on a picnic. I've had friends get more
excited about a lunch date. Come on! Let's go find a good
brothel."

We strolled out into the evening and down the street. 591
already knew what to look for: subtle small signs in the
windows advertising help in finding your family. Talk about
your subtle red-light district! After a few blocks, we saw
several likely places on both sides of the street. 591 took
one on one side, and I crossed over to another. It's one of
those times when having a male and a female agent on a team is
an advantage. Sometimes, one or the other can get better
answers while the other may be more deeply involved. Our tiny
pocket recorders would give us a record to help us set up our
real, professional session later.

A Fenn ushered me in politely. We were still having some
trouble distinguishing their genders, so I started to ask a
few discreet >>questions. Answers came back easily, but I was
surprised when the Fenn started asking questions of her own.

"What's your family name? Is your family far away? . . Do you
spend much of your time traveling? . . . Oh, you're female; do
you have any young? . . . How are your parents? How are your
littermates?"

Our conversation went on for an hour. But nothing remotely
sexual came up. Interesting anthropology, but nothing that
related to INTERSEX's mission here. I was just beginning to
ask about mating rituals and such, when she stood up.

Softly, almost under her breath, she said, "This has been such
a delicate, important conversation." She took my hand in both
of hers, shook my hand, and went on, "I hope that you will
consider returning. Good luck in your work here. I hope your
children are healthy and strong." And then I was politely
shown out to the street, where I found 591 standing.

591 was looking around and seemed a bit distracted. Great, I
thought. He had a good session. Now, we'll find out what's up
with the ritual.

But 591 was distracted because he was trying to figure out
what had just happened. Expecting great sex (or maybe just
good), and more than a little horny when he went in, he had
gotten no sex at all.

"We just talked the whole time! I guess because I was
obviously alien, she was reluctant to get into anything
physical. I was sure ready. She went on and on about her
family and my family and my children and where I was from. She
asked about my career. In the end, I could hardly get a word
in edgewise. And then, she just shook my hand and showed me
the door a few minutes ago."

I said, "Must be a bit of xenophobia. Your experience was
almost identical to mine. Looks like we aren't going to get
much before the ceremony. Let's get to the hotel, and get some
sleep."

The next morning, we received the message from the Oour
confirming that the ceremony would be held the next day. We
got our equipment through customs and then we needed to check
it out. We returned to the hotel; the lobby had quite a few
Fenn milling around, checking in and out, sitting, talking,
just like hotels everywhere. We watched for a few minutes and
went upstairs.

Since INTERSEX recordings are mostly of sex (and tomorrow was
no exception), agents usually check out their equipment by
recording a session of their own and then playing it back to
verify the quality of the recording. 591 and I negotiated
about how to do the checkout.

I wanted to replay the elephants mating; I love being that
huge, aggressive male. 591 wanted something much simpler. He
just wasn't into the amount of time and energy (and
submission) that playing my elephant recording would take. We
compromised: he would solo to the elephant tape as background;
he would make the recording. I would be checking the recording
as he made it. I'd use a fractional second delay to make sure
that the recording was actually happening. There'd still be
enough elephant in his signal for me to enjoy.

591 was in an easy chair with the recorder next to him. I was
standing facing him, a few feet away wearing the wireless
headset monitor. I fiddled with some controls while 591
adjusted the playback unit. His pants were already off.

"Well," he said, "I guess I'm ready. I don't feel like doing
anything very intense, so I'll make it a short session." He
started to stroke himself, slowly to start. Through my
monitor, I could pick up his session and also the playback of
the elephant recording that he was playing.

Watching 591 stroke up and down the length of his penis,
through the monitor feeling those sensations just as intensely
as if it were my penis, and from the elephant recording,
through 591 and the monitor, feeling the elephant entering his
mate, I was getting pretty hot. The elephant always gets me
going: tons of flesh on top of the female, the intensity of
musth, that huge mobile penis; I love it. I reached down to
put the tip of my trunk in her mouth; she nuzzled and gummed
it: like an arms-length of French kissing, pinching and
feeling her tongue with my trunk. Entering her simultaneously
from both ends.

591 was going a bit faster now. Overcome by sensation, I
leaned back against the wall and sank down to a crouch. I
slipped my hand into my pants, rubbing my little clitoris, now
small, large and gigantic, simultaneously. Reaching back with
my trunk, I feel and smell my penis entering her. My
excitement builds as I feel foot after foot slipping first in
and then out, in then out. Five feet long and almost half a
foot through, sliding past hot, strong, elephantine muscles.

It didn't take long. I saw 591 start to come, splashing semen
on himself, grunting slightly. That started me. I came, and my
head snapped back hitting the wall. The impact switched the
monitor into high output, causing me to jump into a second,
stronger orgasm. The whole recording system stepped up its
strength. Suddenly, the elephant was all consuming. 591
doubled his efforts. The vision of my clitoris disappeared.
Between my thighs was only the immense pachyderm's organ. I
pressed into the cow.

And a strange thing happened. Where before it was me and 591
and the elephant, now I felt like I was in a crowd. Ghostly
shapes wandered past, pressing against me. The elephant and
591 were trumpeting. The cow elephant was having an orgasm,
shoving back into me, spurring us on. I felt like a hoard
having an orgasm, a whole herd of huge beasts. The crowd
around me were Fenn and elephants and orgasming humans. I came
again as the cow pressed against me again. I saw 591 coming
again, shouting, and then I fell to the floor, limp.

When we had recovered, I picked myself off the floor. I said,
"That was weird! I hope we didn't broadcast that to the whole
block. It got pretty strong when I hit the high-power button.
What was all that crowd?"

591 said, "Don't know; must have been some overtones from the
Fenn here in the hotel. I think things will be fine. The Fenn
probably don't even come in on the same frequencies as us. And
besides, they wouldn't know that we were the cause. Come on;
let go get some dinner."

As we passed through the lobby, there seemed to be more Fenn
than when we had arrived. Clusters of them were standing
around, animatedly shaking hands, and then going out into the
street. Strange, because I didn't remember there having been
so many in the lobby before, and certainly not all of this
greeting and talking. Perhaps there was a conference of some
kind going on. We tried to speak to the desk clerk, but he
seemed quite distracted in an intense conversation with
another Fenn about his cousin, so we went on to eat.

The next morning we met the Oour in front of his office. He
said, "We'll drive to the edge of town, and then we walk with
the group to the selected site. The walk will take an hour or
so. Then an hour or two will suffice for the ritual. You
should be back in time for dinner. It is the custom for the
group to walk together to the ritual, but we usually walk back
singly."

A little over an hour later, the dozen of us were at the place
selected. 591 and I busied ourselves setting up the recording
equipment while the Fenn arranged themselves in a tight
circle. They sat quietly, waiting for us to finish. When we
indicated that we were done, the ceremony started. The Oour
began: "I am the third of five children. I was born . . ." And
he went on with the catalog for quite a while. Then the Fenn
next to him started: "I am the second of . . ."

I walked around to where 591 was running the recorder. I
whispered, "You know, if this is only going to take an hour or
so, all we are going to get is this catalog. Are you getting
anything yet?" He shook his head and gave a thumbs-down.

I picked up the backup monitor and listened for myself.
Nothing! Oh, I could feel the Fenn, but there was nothing
sexual coming from them. I was picking up more sexual
sensations from the worms in the ground. Why, I was picking up
more sex from the grass. I whispered again to 591, "What's
wrong? Where's the signal? Are we on the wrong frequencies?"

591 shook his head. He whispered back, "No! We're right on.
There's just nothing here. They're not having any erotic
sensations at all. Did we get the wrong ceremony? Is this
really a mating ritual?" We both shrugged our confusion.
Meanwhile, the ritual continued much the same, with the fifth
Fenn speaking. 591 said, "Maybe it all happens at the end."

Finally, after about an hour and a half, everyone in the
circle had told a story. At last! Now I figured that the more
physical part would begin, but the Oour simply started to
thank everyone for coming. Then they started around the circle
again, this time with a short, simple thank-you-and- goodbye.
I looked at 591 again. He shook his head once more - nothing.
And then they all got up. I looked to 591, but he shook his
head, nothing.

The Fenn were shaking hands, saying goodbye, and some of them
were already leaving. A last look at 591 confirmed that we had
nothing, and we weren't going to get anything. I walked over
to him and said, "Looks like another zero." He nodded; then he
turned off the recorder and started to pack up.

I was watching the last of the Fenn go; only the Oour was
left. Smiling, he turned and came over to me. "I hope you have
gotten what you wanted. It was a very satisfactory ceremony.
Thank you for honoring us by recording it."

I was a bit startled and didn't reply immediately. He stepped
toward me and took my hand in both of his. He started to
speak, but he halted briefly with a perplexed expression. "Oh,
you're a female," he said. His head bowed slightly, and his
grip on my hand tightened briefly, feeling warmer. He let go,
turned, and walked away, across the field.

Mind reeling, I looked down at the stringy semen dripping from
my hand. I called across to 591, "We didn't get anything for
INTERSEX, did we?" He shook his head. "Do you happen to have a
towel?" I asked.


Copyright 1999, Registered at the U.S. Copyright Office. No
part of this document may be reproduced in any way without
permission of the author