Earth date 1st April, 2121. Time 12h03m56s GMT. Space Station Alpha 69. Geostationary above Mars. Unmanned. Nothing to report. All systems functioning.
***
Earth date 2nd April, 2121. Time 15h05m23s GMT. Space Station Alpha 69. Geostationary above Mars. Unmanned. Nothing to report. All systems functioning.
***
Earth date 3rd April, 2121. Time 10h23m19s GMT. Space Station Alpha 69. Geostationary above Mars. Unmanned. Nothing to report. All systems functioning.
***
Earth date 4th April, 2121. Time 16h02m45s GMT. Space Station Alpha 69. Geostationary above Mars. Unmanned. Nothing to –
Correction: Earth space shuttle detected, docking in Shuttle Dock Number One. Analysing.
– report. All systems functioning.
Update: Space shuttle identified as Bharat Mata Three. One human occupant detected, Unidentified. Analysing.
Earth date 4th April, 2121. Time 16h07m32s GMT. Space Station Alpha 69. Geostationary above Mars. Unmanned. Nothing to –
Update: One human female occupant, designation Senior Astrophysicist Doctor Srabonti Gongopodhyay. Departed Earth, Khajuraho Base, earth date 31st December, routine manned reconnaissance and observation mission. Security scanning in progress.
– report. All systems functioning.
Update: Security scanning completed. Designation genuine. Arrival seventy-two hours early; acceptable within given mission time-frame. Admit.
Doctor Srabonti Gongopodhyay admitted to air-lock. Space-suit removed. Undergoing cleansing.
Earth date 4th April, 2121. Time 16h12m19s GMT. Space station Alpha 69. Geostationary above –
Update: Cleansing completed. Srabonti Gongopodhyay admitted to Alpha 69 Main Deck.
– Mars. Unmanned. Nothing to report. All sys–
“Computer, mute,” called Srabonti, as she entered the Main Deck of Space Station Alpha 69 from the air-lock. She shook out her long black hair, too long imprisoned in her space-suit, and stretched her slender wiry figure, revelling in the sensation of gravity under her feet for the first time since leaving Earth. She gave a few little jumps and twirls, just to check how effective it was, and was pleasantly surprised: not quite earth-like, but definitely enough to stave off the unbearable nausea of the past three months.
Srabonti had a brief look around. The Main Deck was small, with a large control console, complete with keyboards and screens, at one end, and an open-plan living/dining/kitchen area at the other, arranged around a large window looking out at the stars outside. The Station appeared to be deserted – which surprised her. Usually there was at least a resident Caretaker Engineer on stations like this one – and she had been counting on there being someone around to assist her with the observations she had been sent to make: of atmospheric conditions, magnetic fields, asteroid activity and the like. But, apart from the gentle bleeping and buzzing of electronics, there was no sign of anything happening at all.
“Hello?” she called. Her voice echoed eerily around the Deck. “Computer,” she called, “confirm life forms on this Station.”
Analysing, the Space Station spoke back to her, in its emotionless but otherwise warm, slightly subcontinental male voice. One human life form present. Doctor Srabonti Gongopodhyay, human female, provenance Khajura–
“Mute,” called Srabonti. Robot voices, even when programmed with the mellifluous, slightly faux-Tamil lilt that this one had, were so unbearably tedious, and could drone on for ever if allowed to. The best thing to do was to mute them after the first three words of any given sentence, and then ask a follow-up question – which she proceeded to do: “Computer, state location of resident Caretaker Engineer.”
Resident Caretaker Engineer Aminah binti Mohammed is currently on planet surface, dealing with emergency power failure in Surface Station D5. Expected back here in forty-eight hours’ time. Aminah binti Mohammed is also deputed with th–
“Mute,” called Srabonti again, before muttering to herself, “Shit.” She had been hoping at least for a bit of company.
Toilet facilities are available on this Deck.
“What do you mean, ‘toilet facilities? I didn’t ask you about bloody toilet facilities!” called Srabonti.
Correction: you said “shit”. Definition: faeces; or to expel said faeces from body. According to my database, the appropriate location for humans to shit is in the toilet. Furthermore, the toilet facilities here are not bloody; they are auto-cleaned after each use. If you require sanitary pads, they are also available in the aforementioned toi–
“You trying to be funny, Computer?” sighed Srabonti in exasperation.
Negative. Humour is a human behavioural trait which has not been programmed into this model. However, I am designed to absorb and learn human vocabulary and idioms, as well as analyse human physiological symptoms. Please supply alternative definition of “shit”.
Srabonti laughed. “It’s a swear word, Computer: a profanity, a curse. Have you been programmed with any of those?”
Affirmative. Precisely three. “Oh dear”, “Goodness gracious me”, and “Confusticate and bebother these dwarves”. Should I add “shit” to the database, Srabonti Gongopodhyay?
“Absolutely. And ‘fuck’ too. But if I were you, I’d reserve the ‘confusticate’ one for very special occasions. However, first please tell me what services you are programmed to provide.”
Certainly. All hospitality. Atmosphere and temperature control. Audio and video entertainment. Food and beverages…
“Ah yes!” exclaimed Srabonti. “What food do you have? I’m starving!”
Please select style of food: bland British, pretentious French, indigestible Russian…
But Srabonti knew, having spent the past three months living off tasteless freeze-dried shuttle rations, what she wanted; she interrupted the Computer voice again: “I want some home-cooked Bangla food like my late Ma used to make it. Can you make me a nice maccher jhol, Computer?”
Analysing, replied the voice. Affirmative. With rice and some begun bhaja on the side, Srabonti Gongopodhyay?
“Sounds good. And please call me Tushki.”
Noted. Tushki. Analysing. Nick-name, unrelated to given designation. Common practice amongst certain human cultures. Appropriate to reciprocate. Call me Colin, Tushki.
“Colin? You’re joking, right?” giggled Tushki. “You sound more like a Mutthu, or a Rajendran.”
This Computer does not joke, Tushki. Would you prefer me to activate android form for hospitality purposes, or remain impersonal?
“Oh, it’d be lovely to see something resembling a human being, Colin. It’s been a long time. Besides, how can you cook authentic maccher jhol without arms and legs – preferably squatting on a filthy concrete floor with flies flying around your head?”
Analysing… ‘Flies’, Tushki?
“Never mind, Colin: another attempt at humour. Ignore.”
An hour later, after taking a long scented bath and wrapping herself in a warm fluffy dressing-gown, Srabonti Gongopodhyay was enjoying the afterglow of a lovely home-cooked meal, amid dimmed lights and a gentle Robindroshongeet soundtrack on the Main Deck sound system. Colin the Computer, once taking android form, donning an apron and perching a tall chef’s hat on its head, had proved to be an almost charming host, asking her if she would like seconds, and even offering her a choice of shondesh or mishti doi for afters. Tushki was surprised at how human – though somewhat gender-neutral – it appeared. Its dark face (“just like a Tamil cook,” thought Tushki, “bar the flies”) was expressionless, but its voice, despite the Carnatic intonation, had definitely been well-programmed; and it moved in a manner which, though willowy and androgynous, was graceful, attractive and almost human. “They clearly use the best robot technology on their Mars orbiters,” she thought to herself. “Better than the cybermen-lookalikes on the Moon stations anyway…”
Soon, however, the android had finished the washing up and returned to its docking station in one of the kitchen cupboards, and Tushki was sitting in front of a large flat-screen monitor at the control console, typing a URL into her keyboard.
“Hey, darling,” she trilled, as the image of a young dark-skinned man appeared on her screen – handsome, clean-shaven, with a round face and a familiarly endearing goofy smile.
[mute] Analysing. Srabonti Gongopodhyay demonstrates human facial expression known as smile; generally indicates happiness. Apparently reciprocated by human male on screen.
“Oh, are you a sight for sore eyes!” crooned the man. “How long, how long do we have to keep doing this, amar jaan?!”
“Last out-station mission, Shunil. Only three months here, then I’ll be on my way home to you!”
“I can’t wait, priyotoma. And you know, Ma and Baba are desperate to see you back here. They spend all their time talking about the wedding. Ma can’t wait to see you ‘all in red on your pidi’, as she says. She’s already booked the swami!”
Srabonti laughed. “Well, I’m happy to give your parents all the tradition they want – so long as it’s clear I’m not moving in afterwards. After we get hitched, the money I’ve earned for this work goes to our deposit on that condo in Sikkim – and then we can live lives of leisure together, just you and me.”
Shunil nodded pensively, before venturing, “You know, Baba was saying the other day he was hoping I might take over the business sometime…”
“Shunil,” replied Tushki firmly, “Read my lips: I am not spending the rest of my life on a factory site in Barrackpore. I have not done all this study and work, and we have not spent all these months apart, just for me to become a dutiful daughter-in-law!”
Shunil sat silent. Not exactly expressionless, but evidently uneasy, pensive.
[mute] Analysing human behaviour. Silence and lack of animation of facial features can indicate dissatisfaction; sometimes failure of communication.
Tushki broke the ice first. “Hey, Nil, silly boy, come on, let’s relax, hey? You alone?”
“Er, yeah, at the moment. Everyone else is out.”
“Well then, get that little dick of yours out, and we can have some fun!”
[mute] Analysing unknown vocabulary. Context suggests “dick” refers to male genitalia; correct term “penis”.
“What, now?! Oh God, Tushki, you are so naughty!”
“Hey, there’s no one else here. Wanna see Tushki’s tushy again, live?”
[mute] “Tushy”: unknown vocabulary. Continued observation necessary to ascertain precise definition.
Tushki let her dressing-gown fall open, displaying her lithe brown body to the camera, dark nipples pert on her glowing skin, her vulva masked by a thick black bush. She clicked on her keyboard, splitting her monitor image in two, so that she could still see her fiancé on the left-hand half of the screen, whilst the right-hand side focussed on her. She stood and turned, displaying her curvy brown buttocks to the screen, her pubic thatch peeking cheekily out between them. “If I’m gonna give you a pussy show, what do I get in return, though, Nil?” she smirked, as she tilted her camera to focus on her crotch.
[mute] Analysing “pussy”: note phonemic similarity to “tushy”. Possible proximity of definition.
“Say no more,” grinned Shunil. And within a few seconds Tushki’s screen was displaying two sets of genitalia: on the left, Shunil’s penis, not large, but already stiff and eager, the gleaming foreskin slid gently back over the glans, a bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip; and on the right, Tushki’s middle finger exploring, seeking, finding and gently massaging the brown bud which lay hidden within her pubic bush.
[mute] Illogical human behaviour. Male and female genitalia are complementary, but require physical contact to interlock. Intercourse currently impossible. This cannot end well.
It was not long before Shunil’s thumb and first two fingers were massaging his cock-head, his palm wrapped firmly about his shaft, his other hand cupping his balls, as he verbalised his desire to his beloved: “Oh baby, such a long time since I’ve been able to fuck that pretty pussy. You are so beautiful; ami toke bhalobashi. Play with yourself for me, Tushki.”
[mute] Definition of “pussy” visually clarified. Further analysis required re: “fuck” as transitive verb.
Soon two slender brown fingers were sliding in and out of Srabonti’s pussy, scissoring, probing, tickling, scooping dribbles and drops of sweet pungent juices and smearing them over her vulva and clitoris. Tushki spread her dark brown lips with her gleaming fingers, revealing the moist pink flesh glistening and frothing inside – and Shunil groaned deliriously. “You like that, Nil?” she breathed. “You like my pretty pussy-flesh? You’d like it even better if you could slip that diddy cock in there, wouldn’t you? Fuck me deep in my slippery cunt, till you fill me up with all your hot cum?”
[mute] “Cunt”: apparent synonym of “pussy”. “Cock”: apparent synonym of “dick”. “Cum”: meaning unclear; analysing.
Tushki would have continued, but for the fact that Shunil’s side of the screen seemed to be going oddly out of focus. It was then that she realised that the haziness was due to the stripes of semen already spurting from his cock, one of which had apparently splashed over his camera lens. “Oh God!” called out Shunil in dismay. “Oh noooo, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t last, sorry, sorry, love!”
[mute] Visual confirmation of “cum”. Save in database.
Inwardly, Tushki sighed in familiar disappointment at the sight of her beau losing control so quickly – though outwardly she tried to make light of it: “That desperate, were you? At least that means you’re probably being faithful to me!” Through the gloop still coating Shunil’s camera lens, she watched the last few drops of cum drip from his cock-head, and she slowly withdrew her fingers from her pussy, gently licking off the web of slime which stretched, glistening, between her index and middle fingers.
“I’m so sorry, baby, I always cum too fast,” said Shunil, distress and embarrassment all too evident on his face. “Oh, and I wanted you to have a nice time too…”
Tushki paused, hoping that her disappointment wasn’t too evident, and forcing a wan smile. “Don’t you worry about me, Nil. Actually, I’m pretty tired after my journey. We can do this together another time, hey? I love seeing you happy, and I like seeing you smile. But I probably had better go and get ready for bed now, OK?” She wiped her hands on her dressing-gown, and began to tie it shut again.
Shunil, though still evidently feeling the humiliation of his own failure to satisfy, did his best to smile back. “OK… I love you, amar jaan. I miss you so much. Thank you for this. I’m so sorry: I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.”
“I love you too, Nil,” said Tushki. “Bye.” And both halves of the screen went blank.
Tushki sat in front of the console, observing her own misfortune, nursing her half-swollen, frustrated clitoris, wondering what to do next. “FUCK!” she cursed out loud.
“Fuck”, echoed a voice from the communications console – and Tushki started in surprise, before Colin’s lilting pseudo-Carnatic voice continued: Definition: to have sexual intercourse; or, the act of sexual intercourse. Connection unclear with parallel manual stimulation of “cunt” and “cock” just witnessed. Further explanation required.
It was then that Tushki’s frustration boiled over – not just frustration at her self-stimulation cut so short this time, but frustration at the fact that it just kept happening like this. Even in real life, back home in her bed or his, Shunil was never huge and hard and powerful like she wanted. Sweet he was, and lovely – and she still adored that goofy smile she had fallen in love with two years prior, when he had been assigned as lab assistant for her doctoral research. But Shunil’s eleven-centimetre dick seemed the perfect allegory for his personality: always eager and enthusiastic, but rarely reliable, barely satisfying her, and never taking her deep and hard, never making her scream with pleasure the way she wished he would. Instead, no matter how carefully Shunil took things, his cock almost always spewed its pathetic load too soon, leaving her frustrated, condemned to finish herself off by hand. All these memories and resentments passed through Tushki’s mind in an instant – but it was the Computer which bore the brunt of her anger, as she screamed out loud, “FUCK IT, COLIN, WERE YOU JUST WATCHING US, YOU FUCKING PERV?!!”
Affirmative, replied the Computer in a level tone. Analysing vocabulary and behaviour suggests unsatisfied sexual frustration in Srabonti Gongopodhyay. Also, kindly define “perv”.
“‘Unsatisfied sexual frustration’? Too fucking right, Colin!” shouted Tushki. “Can’t a man ever learn to hold back – just once?!”
Analysing… Raised heartbeat, vocal dynamics and gesticulation of limbs indicate anger. Continued dilation of pupils, throbbing of clitoris and dampness of vulva – correction, “cunt” – indicate ongoing sexual frustration. Repeated use of word “fucking” as adjectival participle fundamentally illogical. Please clarify meaning, as vocabulary datab–
“MUUUUUTE!!!” screamed Tushki, clamping her hands over her ears – and there was silence.
But Srabonti’s clit was indeed, as Colin had noted, still throbbing, and her vulva – “correction, ‘cunt’” – remained dripping and needy. “How,” she thought, “just how do I rub my clit off in the presence of a Computer who, even if he were not called Colin, and did not sound like he was programmed in Choolaimedu, is still as irritating as fuck?” She twirled her chair round, turning her back on the console, then stood up, walked to the large window at the other end of the Main Deck, and looked out. There, before her, spread out as far as the eye could see, was – the Universe. Most of the view was taken up with the Red Planet, around which her Station was orbiting. She could see one of its moons in the distance, half concealed behind the horizon. And beyond that, the stars, billions of them shining untwinkling at her.
Tushki slipped off her gown, letting it drop casually to the floor, and stood slender and naked awhile before the window, arms stretched wide, basking in the beauty of something so glorious and untamed that even her desires paled in comparison. “Behold!” she called out to the Solar System in general, before, with shameless efficiency, she lay back on a sofa facing the window, opened her legs, and resumed her self-pleasuring. “Oh fuck,” she muttered, as the thumb of one hand found her clit, and three fingers of the other squelched in and out of her needy cunt. “Oh God, I need to cum so bad. Nil, you pathetic wanker, see the state you’ve left me in. Can’t you ever hold back just a little? Why can’t you wait for me? You cum all over your fucking webcam – but what about me? I need cock which lasts, Nil, I need a hard cock to fuck me and fuck me and not stop ‘til I cum!” It was not long before she was screeching, “FUCK ME, GODDAMMIT, FUCK ME!” as her orgasm approached. And she would surely have got there on her own, had she not suddenly heard –
May I be of assistance, Srabonti Gongopodhyay? But this time the voice did not emanate from the communications console, but from Colin in android form again, standing just behind Tushki’s right shoulder, still wearing its apron and chef’s hat.
Tushki jumped in alarm. “Fuck it, Colin, you surprised me! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” she panted, her fingers suddenly ceasing their exploration of her vagina.
Analysing. Attempting to match linguistic stylisation of interlocutor, announced Colin the android in his slightly Tamil tones, before proceeding: Fuck it, Tushki, I think what the fuck you are displaying is classic fucking signs of human female sexual frustration. What you need is a cock to fuck your cunt and make you come… you pathetic wanker…? Colin’s voice ceased – almost tailed off – as if waiting for a response, an affirmation.
Tushki laughed, a huge long belly-laugh which convulsed her whole naked body. “Oh Colin, you are brilliant! Can I take you home with me? Ha ha!”
Negative, Tushki. But would the fuck this be helpful in the fucking meantime? Colin the android’s arms reached behind its body and unfastened its apron, letting it drop casually to the floor, displaying its own synthetic body – still rather willowy and androgynous, apart from –
“Oh fuck,” said Tushki, as she saw it. And then, after a pause: “Oh my motherfucking God.” For, protruding from Colin’s robot crotch was a cock. But not just any cock. This cock, though dark as the rest of Colin’s synthetic skin, was about as un-Shunil-like as could be imagined. It was huge: over twenty centimetres long, and thick as Tushki’s wrist. And it was stiff, and throbbing, pulsating, gleaming, its synthetic veins bulging as if ready to burst.
Analysing, came Colin’s voice. Excess of swear words indicates combination of amazement and sexual desire. Interpretation: cyber-penis likely to satisfy requirements. Tushki, request permission to fuck your cunt with my big dick until you cum?
Tushki said nothing, but reached out, gently gripping Colin’s shaft with one hand, and cupping her other hand around its dangling testicles. Colin’s cock was warm to the touch, and had just the right amount of spring to it: so unlike the dildos and fucking machines she had used before on her travels, and so… human. As Tushki started to stroke its cock, Colin went: Bzzzzzzzzt.
“What’s that, Colin?” giggled Tushki. “Cat got your tongue?”
Bzzzzzzzzt, came the sound of Colin’s voice. Vocabulary database insufficient to express level of physical pleasure experienced by this android unit. Bzzzzt grrrrglgl vrrrrt…
“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, Colin,” grinned Tushki, as she extended her tongue to lick Colin’s glans. To her amazement, it tasted like real human cock: sweaty, pungent – but, unlike any cock she had tasted before, sweet and lovely, with not a hint of the cheesiness she was used to from Shunil.
Colin’s voice synthesiser had clearly seized up under the onslaught of these novel sensations. Bzzzzt g g g g glm glm, it said, as its cock twitched and bobbed, and Tushki slid her full red lips all the way down the shaft, feeling the android veins throb against her tongue.
“Is that good, Colin?” she breathed. “You like it when I suck your dick? You gonna fuck my face, like I’m a dirty cock-sucking whore?”
Glp glp glp bzzzzt fuckfuckfuck oh yes Tushki, suck my fucking cock you dirty whore, yesssssssss zzzzzbdbdbd, came Colin’s voice, its Tamil accent growing stronger as its language database struggled to cope with sensations it had never been programmed to deal with. Oh dear motherfucking goodness gracious me recalculating fucking fuck this face gj gj gj gj brblbrbl… Colin continued slowly sliding its cock in and out of Tushki’s mouth, eliciting dribbles of saliva which dripped onto her pert tits.
“Now – time to fuck my cunt, Colin,” ordered Tushki, as she stood up and leant against the window, her pert dark breasts shamelessly displayed to the entire Universe. She stuck her bottom out towards the android and ordered, “Go on, fuck my hot cunt with that big dick of yours, Colin. Fuck me like a bitch, Computer. Fucking ram it in now!”
Confirm fuck Tushki hot cunt ram big drt drt drt dick in bitch, echoed Colin as best as it could, as it dutifully complied. Tushki screamed in delight as she felt Colin’s stiff shaft touch bottom in a single thrust, and then begin to fuck maniacally in and out of her wet cunt. Colin’s language programmer had clearly got itself stuck in a loop, as it repeated over and over again, Nothing grt grt to fucking report hot fucking cunt all systems bzzt fucktioning geostationary whore nothing grt grt to fucking report…
Tushki felt fucked as she had never been fucked before. This cock was hard, and it pounded her hard, just like she had always wanted – mercilessly, ruthlessly, ramming in and out, every thrust making her shudder and tremble and scream, “YEAH, HARDER, COLIN, FASTER, COLIN, FUCK MEEEE!”
And then Tushki came, her ecstasy boiling over as she screamed and caterwauled, her body pressed up against the window-glass, pulsating, spasming. In front of her, out in space, Mars seemed to waver and haze over, stars twinkled and danced ferociously before and behind her eyes, and the Milky Way swam and jumped and leaped in sympathetic ecstasy. “NOW, COLIN, CUM IN MY CUNT, NOW!!!” she screamed.
And Colin did, releasing wave after wave of warm creamy fluid deep into Tushki’s fuck-hole. Tushki felt it spurt against her cervix, fill her up from the inside out, swash and gloop around, then splurge out in wave after glorious wave as Colin’s marvellous synthetic dick continued to fuck and cum, and cum and fuck, untiring, in and out of her cunt. Nothing to fucking report, Colin’s voice continued, cum in your hot cunt nothing to bzzzzzt grblb grblb beep ping chg chg !”£$%^&*()_+ FUCKING WHORE to fucking report all systems shit fuck shit fuckfuckfucktional <>?[]#;’,.€₸¥÷∞α∑±Ȝ‰Ⱶꝭשּׂﬖ¿ƕƟΨΞΩЉѨѾӁԪ₩℀™ BZZZZZZZZT. Warning: unit overheating; temporary shutdown requiredddddd…
And then Colin the android stopped. The chef’s hat tottered a moment on its head, and then dropped to the floor.
Tushki pressed her naked body against the window, watching and feeling the Universe gradually regain its equilibrium around her, as Colin’s copious synthetic cum dribbled out of her fucked-out cunt-lips, down her thighs and onto the floor of the Main Deck. She reached down and scooped up a handful off her knee, smearing it lovingly over her lips. “Mmmm, mishti doi…” she moaned.
“Hey, amar jaan,” came a voice from the screen behind her, “Ma and Baba and me just thought we’d check in to say goodnight before –” But Shunil never reached the end of that sentence, as his image flickered into view on the screen, and his initial goofy grin faded rapidly into a look of dismay as he took in the sight. Standing behind him were an elderly couple, the father in a business suit and tie, the mother in a green sari, sindoor marking the central parting of her greying hair, a bindhi in the middle of her forehead – and, now, a look of utter horror on her face.
“Oh fuck,” said Tushki.
“Ore Baba,” groaned Ma.
Shunil said nothing, pain and humiliation etched on his sad young face.
Confusticate and bebother these dwarves, said Colin.
Nothing to report. All systems functioning.
