Comments are always welcome at Karen Evans © 7/7/96
NC17-rated
AIMEE
by
Karen Evans
Part One
2043 The overseers on the colony were also InVitros who were "free",
but chose to stay on Omicron Draconis, because it was one of the few
places where they could be offenders insted of victims. Their job was
keeping the InVitro "workers" in line, and when they disobeyed,
they were disciplined in any way the overseers saw fit, which ran from
beatings, to rape and murder. The overseers had their own homes, but
they were little mroe than shacks, at least though the had fans.
The Natural Born time keepers worked in a cool air condtioned two
story office building, their job was to keep the InVitro's time. They
spent their days playing computer games and drinking.
The man who ran the entire colony, who kept everyone in line for Aerotech,
the owners of the mines, was Simon Robinson, who had been with Aerotech
for ten years. Simon was a tall, burly man with a bald head and skin
the color of deep chocolate. He had been married to Sonia Ruiz, a woman
of Cuban and Native American descent. She divorced him a year ago because
of domestic violence, they had two daughters, Aimee Lorraine, seventeen
and Shantel Maria, fifteen. This year, a judge ordered them to spend
the summer with their father, on Omicron Draconis. Sonia protested,
the planet, she said was no place for two young girls, besides, their
father was a beast. The judge stood firm in his decision, Simon ws their
father, he had a responsible job with Aerotech and he had a right to
see his daughters. He also reminded Sonia that both Aimee and Shantel
had gotten into their share of trouble on Earth: Theft, truancy, weapons
posession, alcohol abuse...
Before the girls left for the planet, Sonia sent a message to her
ex-husband. "If you so much as touch one of my girls, it'll be
the last time you'll see them!"
Aimee and Shantel were beauties with honey brown skin, straight black
hair, full lips and straight, harsh noses; their eyes were jet black
and from a distance, it looked like they had no pupils. Shantel cut
her hair neck length, whil Aimee wore hers braided. Sonia gave her daughters
books on black American history, along with three CD's converted from
old fashioned VHS tapes, of a show on the Civil War.
"Those InVitros ain't nothing but slaves girls, and slavery's
wrong, that's why they fought a war about it," Sonia told them.
When the sisters arrived at Omicron Draconis, they saw their summer
would be boring, so they immediately started watching the tapes, and
Simon was pleased that they took such an interest in their heratage.
Slowly though, both Aimee and Shantel realized what their mother said
was true, the InVitros were slaves, just their their black ancestors
were hundres of years ago.
One night at dinner, Aimee confronted her father with that
"It's not the same, Aimee, you see, in-vitros are made, not born,
they're not really humans."
"But they said the same thing about black people then father,
and at one time black slaves were bred too."
Simon was beside himself, he didn't want his daughter to stop reading
her own history, but he didn't like the ideas she was comming up with.
Damn Sonia, this was all her doing.
One day, Aimee was standing behind one of the planet's many large
blue trees, watching the InVitros slowly make their way from the mines
to their barracks, men on the left, women on the right. She wanted to
see for herself if their living conditons were as good as Simon told
her they were. They all looked tired, worn, beaten.
Then, Aimee caught sight of the most beautiful man she'd ever laid
eyes on. He was filthy and sweaty like the others, but there was something
different about him; he had clear blue eyes, porcelin skin and beautiful,
yet handsome features, his body was slim, yet well developed. He looked
to be about her age, which meant he was probably born a few months ago.
Aimee was so taken with the InVitro's beauty, that she stepped back
and fell into a ditch, shouting as she went down.
Tyrus Cassius McQueen heard the scream and rushed to that direction,
thinking the scream had come from another in-vitro who was in trouble.
He stopped suddenly when he saw the unfamiliar young girl half sitting,
half lying in the ditch. Because he didn't know her, he assumed she
was a natural born, and because she was a natural born, McQueen knew
he could get into trouble for just looking at her. Even at his young
age, McQueen knew what happened to tanks who didn't follow rules, he'd
experienced more than his share of abuse, torture and humiliation on
his trip to Omacron Draconis, as well as in the barracks, where the
weaker tanks were passed around like pieces of candy.
"Are you going to just stand there?" she said.
McQueen looked around and saw no one. He had to get back to the barracks
soon, or else he'd be punished in any way that the tank overseers decided
he should be punished. He looked down, saw Aimee's dark eyes stareing
up at him and sighed. He'd never seen eyes that beautiful before, he
wondered how smooth her skin felt, how her body might feel in his arms.
Against his better judgement, McQueen knelt down and offered his hand.
Aimee took it and immediately felt his heat as he pulled her out of
the ditch. She looked up into his eyes, looked at his filty coveralls,
and his greying white tee shirt.
"Thank you," she said.
McQueen quickly looked down, nodded and started to walk away.
"Hey, do you have a name?"
He stopped, turned around and stared at the red dirt. "Tyrus...Tyrus
Cassius McQueen."
Aimee walked closer to him. She could smell his scent, sweat mixed
with some kind of clean musk. "I'm Aimee Lorraine Robinson."
Robinson, McQueen knew ran the plutonium mines, he was the big boss,
the king, the man who decided who lived and died. Instinctively, McQueen
moved away from Aimee, afraid that he'd touched her, she could say anything,
say McQueen raped her, or even tried to.
"Don't be afraid Tyrus," Aimee said.
McQueen allowed himself to look up into Aimee's eyes and felt himself
getting aroused; ashamed, he turned around and rushed back to the barracks.
Aimee sighed and almost wept. He was afraid, more than afraid, he
was terrified. As Aimee walked back to her father's house, she felt
a familiar wetness between her legs and smiled. "Now Aimee,"
she whispered, "you promised to be good..." But she couldn't
stop herself from smiling.
For the next week, when McQueen walked from the mines to the barracks,
he noticed Aimee watching him, from behind the giant blue trees that
grew wild on the land. He noticed how her jeans fit snuggly on her body,
how her tee shirts stuck to her in the hot, humid air and each day,
when he got to the barracks he'd sneak into the bathroom, pull off his
coveralls and stroke himself into climax, as he imagined himself inside
Aimee.
"How long do the in-vitros have to stay here?" Aimee asked
her father one night at dinner.
Simon Robinson stared at his daughter. "Until they've earned
their freedom," he said, in his stern, brash voice.
"And how long's that?"
"If they're good workers, five years."
"Plutonium is dangerous," Chantel said.
"It pays for this house," Simon growled, "and it'll
pay for your education."
"It's blood money," Aimee said silently. "It's slavery
father, nothing but slavery."
Chantel's eyes widdened. Simon stopped eating and glared at Aimee.
"It is NOT slavery. Tanks are not human, they were created in a
lab, manufactured. They don't have souls, they're not like us,"
he practically growled.
Tyrus Cassius McQueen had a soul, Aimee knew it, and if he had a soul,
so did the rest of the in-vitros.
Simon Robinson stared at his daughter and noticed she looked different.
Aimee lay in her bed, glad for her own room here, back at home, she
shared a room with Chantel. Alone, she let her mind focus on McQueen,
even dirty and tired he was beautiful. She imagined her hands in his
curly blonde hair, his tongue in her mouth, and her sucking it. When
he touched her briefly, his skin felt rough and she imagined those hands
caressing her breasts. She touched her own breasts and rubbed them until
the nipples hardened, then her hands moved lower, to the warm wetness
between her legs; slowly she inserted two fingers inside; they said
in-vitros were well endowed and were built for endurance. Aimee moved
her fingers in and out, first slow, then quicker, until she climaxed,
and bit the pillow so her cries wouldn't be heard.
Sighing, Aimee lay on her side and closed her eyes, she could not
get McQueen out of her mind and she didn't want to.
"Here," Aimee said crudely and stuffed the note into McQueen's
coveralls. She didn't wait for a reaction, she just ran back. The others
stared at him, knowing some form of punishment was near. McQueen could
not believe she had been so close to him, and he was, as usual quite
hard.
It wasn't until he reached the stalls and started to relieve himself,
that he looked at her letter.
"Meet me at 0130hrs, tomorrow same place, where I see you"
A.
McQueen smiled, understanding now why her manner was so stern. He
thought he heard someone comming, so he tore up the note and threw it
in the toilet.
The next day, Aimee was waiting, in her usual spot, but she didn't
see McQueen. Terror filled her stomach. Had someone found the note?
Had he been punished, perhaps killed? Aimee's eyes started to fill with
tears, when suddenly, she heard shouting and saw one of the in-vitro
overseers fly through the air and land on his back with a thud, then
she saw another, then one of the human guards. The three men strugged
to their feet and rushed at whoever, or whatever had attacked them.
Then, Aimee saw two more in-vitro overseers carrying McQueen by his
arms as he struggled to break free, using every part of his body that
wasn't pinned down. They laughed at the other three.
"He's a fiesty one!"
Aimee put her hand over her mouth. They'd found the note, they told
her father, and now they were going to kill him.
"You don't stop working just because someone drops dead!"
one of the in-vitros shouted.
Aimee sighed, at least she wasn't the cause of his troubles, but what
were they going to do to him?
The natural born overseer took something out of a sack. It looked
long and hard to Aimee, and she saw McQueen's blue eyes go wide in horror.
He struggled, but he was no match for *two* strong men holding him fast.
The natural born yanked up his tee shirt and touched him with the long
piece of metal. McQueen flinched, but did not scream.
Aimee could see it was a cattle prod. The natural born laughed and
did it again, and again, but still, McQueen wouldn't shout, wouldn't
give them the satisfaction of knowing they caused pain.
If they kept this up, they'd kill him, Aimee knew. Plenty of in-vitros
were tortured to death, she knew, even though Simon said they were all
just rumors. She had to do something, but what? If she did the wrong
thing, she could get him into more trouble.
Slowly, Aimee stepped out from behind the blue tree into the suns.
One of the in-vitros saw her and put his hand on another in-vitro, who
gestured toward the natural born. He stopped what he was doing and looked
at her. Aimee didn't say anything, she simply looked into the man's
eyes. The natural born looked away, down, as if ashamed. 'They're afraid
I'll tell my father' Aimee realized, he put the cattle prod back into
the sack and turned to the in-vitros.
"Take him back boys!"
The in-vitros dragged McQueen back to the barracks, he raised his
head and met her eyes, but she looked away, as not to be sympathetic.
The natural born overseer smiled at her. "Didn't think you was
such a tank lover Miss Robinson."
"I'm not. It's just that my father wouldn't want his property
damaged sir." With that, Aimee turned around and walked away.
Inside the house, Aimee sighed, feeling the cool air on her body,
she didn't realize she'd been sweating. She walked into the library,
a room her father rarely used, stared briefly at the scores of books,
before facing what she'd come in here for. Over the fake fireplace was
a full length portrait of Simon Robinson's grandmother, Karen Gabrielle
Reed. Karen was born in the 20th century and made a name for herself
fighting for the rights of people with AIDS, the deadly disease that
ravaged the latter half of the 20th century, now it was only a word
in the history books. Karen had light brown skin and shoulder length
curly hair and was dressed in a white, Grecian style dress, in one hand
she held two deamons, named "ignorance" and "prejudice"
and in another hand she held a sword, ready to slay both deamons. She
died of cancer in 2012.
Aimee stared into her light brown eyes and smiled sadly. "What
would you think of all this Karen?" But she knew the answer, she'd
seen old videotapes of her, heard her voice and knew just what she'd
say.
"It's a goddamn shame."
Aimee didn't know if McQueen was going to come that night, but she
figured she'd take a chance. She packed some water and some burn ointment
in a small knapsack, put three pillows in her bed, and climbed out the
window, thanking God her father slept like a rock.
As Aimee made her way to the spot, she felt her heart race and her
hands sweat. She wished it wasn't so damn humid. Though it was dark,
the temperature had to be about 80 degrees farenheit, and Omicron Draconis'
two moons provided heat. She stopped in the spot and waited, Aimee leaned
against the tree and breathed slowly. Suddenly, she looked up and saw
the pale figure slowly approaching her. Aimee held her breath and waited.
McQueen moved like a cat, slow, cautious. He stopped when he saw Aimee
standing against the tree. His chest still hurt but he couldn't stop
himself from breathing so hard. He remembered what Aimee did today and
couldn't understand why; she was a natural born, why would she help
him? Why did she watch him every day, give him the note? Why was she
here? McQueen didn't want to come, but curiosity knawed at him all during
dinner and now it had peaked. He wondered what color Aimee'a breasts
were, what color was her pubis.
Aimee saw he wasn't comming any closer, she sat down and pulled out
the ointment from her bag. McQueen was curious, since she was seated
she wouldn't hurt him. He slowly moved closer to her. She looked up,
saw he was afraid.
"I won't hurt you," she said.
He nodded and sat down besdie her. "Pull up your shirt,"
she said.
He pulled up his tee shirt, and Aimee rubbed the ointment on the burned
skin. He winced a little but let her do it, and then it felt nice, and
cool. Aimee moved her hand back and forth, up and down his smooth skin,
she touched the spot where his navel would be, it was smooth and Aimee
smiled. McQueen looked at her and smiled too. Aimee noticed old bruises
and scars on his chest. She looked into his eyes.
"Oh, my God," she whispered. "Did they...do this to
you..."
McQueen shrugged. "It happens," he said. Aimee realized
how deep his voice was.
"Do they...beat you...do they..." Aimee couldn't even say
the words, "...hurt you in other ways..."
McQueen shrugged and looked down, ashamed. Aimee touched his face,
gently. "Oh, my God...how could they...how could they do that to
another human being..."
"I'm not human."
Aimee frowned. "That's not true, you are human. You're made from
human DNA, you bleed, you feel, you're not a robot, you're a human...you're
just gestated in a tank, that's all."
"I'm not like you."
Aimee pulled her shirt up, McQueen saw she wore no bra. "My navel's
here," she smiled. McQueen touched her navel and Aimee gasped at
his hand on her skin. Slowly, he moved it higher until he felt her breasts.
McQueen closed his eyes and tried to control himself, but his instincts
were getting the better of him. He touched her with both hands. Aimee
helped him by taking off her tee shirt, she pulled his off as well and
pulled herself on his lap. Their mouths found each other's and they
shared a kiss filled with both passion and raw animal need. McQueen
moved to her neck, then her breasts, where he sucked vigourously. Aimee
bit his shoulder to keep from crying out, she ran her hands through
his curly hair and found the navel on the back of his neck. She gently
stroaked it and he gasped.
"You're sensitive there," she whispered.
"Yeah..." was all he could manage, as she continued to stroke
his navel. The heat outside was no match for the heat he felt and he
lay Aimee down in the blue grass, she pulled him closer to her, he shoved
his tongue in her mouth and she hungrily sucked on it. They pressed
their bodies against each other, desperate for release. McQueen suddenly
sat up and pulled off his jeans and underwear, his mind in a fog, he
didn't know who he was or where he was, the only thing that mattered
was this beautiful girl lying there, watching him.
Aimee's eyes widdened as she stared at McQueen's genitals, she was
far from a virgin, but she'd never seen anything so perfect, so beautiful,
the thought of someone hurting him, taking him by force made her sad
and angry, and she quickly pulled off her jeans, she wore no undewear.
Part of McQueen wanted to take her quick and painful, she was after
all a natural born and deserving of his wrath, but as he looked at her
lying there, trusting him, he realized he couldn't do it. He slowly
entered her and Aimee's eyes widened, as he tore into her.
"I'll stop..." he breathed.
"No...no...don't stop..."
Aimee arched her back and wrapped her legs around his waist so she
was able to take all of McQueen, once he was inside her, she grabbed
him by the shoulders and pulled him closer. He moved slowly inside her,
excited by her tightness. They kissed to keep from crying out as he
continued to thrust deeper into her. Aimee thought he'd push her into
the ground, but she didn't care, the world could have ended and no one
could have pulled her away from McQueen. Aimee stroked his navel more
vigorously and that caused him to stroke more vigorously inside her.
Their mouths found each other and again Aimee sucked McQueen's tongue
roughly. McQueen shut his eyes tightly and gasped for air, he forgot
where he was, who he was or why he was. He pounded inside her with a
violence even he didn't think he was capeable of, Aimee grabbed his
shoulder and cried out.
"Tyrus..." she said.
McQueen shuddered inside Aimee and groaned as he climaxed. Then, he
opened his eyes and saw her smiling up at him. "Aimee," he
whispered.
They wrapped their arms and legs around each other as sweat and seamen
covered them. Aimee felt his tears on her shoulder.
"What is it Tyrus?"
He looked at her, blue eyes filling with tears. "I...I wish I
could...stay here forever..."
Aimee ran her hand through his hair. "Me too," she said.
Far away from the mines, the barracks and the Robinson house was a
lake. The water was warm and soothing, but McQueen said he didn't know
how to swim. It took Aimee only one week to teach him, he was a fast
learner and not afraid. He wasn't as good as Aimee, but good enough
to swim with her.
Sneaking out was a way of life for both McQueen and Aimee. It made
the rest of their day bearable, to know they'd be together if only for
a few hours.
They shucked their clothes and jumped into the warm, inviting lake.
They splashed, laughed and kicked each other like two little children.
"You're getting better at this Tyrus," Aimee said.
"I had a good teacher," he answered.
McQueen caught Aimee's leg, she laughed as he pulled her down. She
grabbed him by the waist, pulled him down and they bobbed up together,
laughing. Aimee put her arms around his neck, McQueen tried not to get
hard, but couldn't help himself, the heat of the water, the air and
Aimee's own body caused him to loose control of his. He moved closer
to Aimee and she smiled.
"Tyrus."
He blushed, but she kissed his mouth and they wrapped themselves around
each other. McQueen tried to enter her, but found it difficult since
they were floating. So, they swam over to the bank and McQueen pushed
her against it, Aimee lay on her stomach, her head againt the grass
and McQueen licked her earlobe. Their lower halfs were still submerged
in water, making it easier for McQueen to enter her. Aimee moaned in
pleasure as he grabbed her behind, with one hand, pulling her closer
to him, while the other hand stroked her clitoris. McQueen grunted and
thrust hard into Aimee, she saw stars as she came, McQueen followed
clamping his mouth down on her sholder.
Aimee turned around in his arms and kissed his face. "You're
so beautiful...do you know that?"
He smiled. "You're beautiful," he said.
They jumped out of the water and shivvered in the warm air. McQueen
looked at her body and felt himself getting hard again, Aimee looked
down and smiled.
"Did I do that?"
"Come here," he said.
Aimee rushed into his arms and they fell together on the towel. Tangling
their arms and legs together, they made love again. Though they wanted
to draw it out, their excitement and passion caused it to last only
a few seconds, after, they lay in each other's arms, not speaking, and
no knowing if and when they'd ever be together again.
Now, it was Aimee's turn to cry, but she turned her face so McQueen
could not see her.
If there was a hell, its first cousin was definately Omicron Draconis.
The desolate planet with an atmosphere more hot and humid than Florida
in August was home of the famous plutonium mines. The mines were deadly,
radiation poisoning and cave-ins were commin, which was why the Natural
Borns decided the work was much *too* dangerous for them, and decided
to let InVitros have the honor of working there. The mines were one
of the many places InVitros had to go to work for their freedom, to
pay back for the privilage of being born. They worked fourteen horus
a day, seven days a week, every day of the year for five or more years.
They lived in single sex barracks, twenty to a barracks, five showers,
five toilets, two meals a day and despite the heat and humidity, no
air conditioning and no fans.
Aimee calculated how long it took for McQueen to go from the mines to
his barracks, and how many seconds it would take her to make contact.
When she saw him, silently make his way back to the barracks, with other
dirty, tired, young in-vitros, she took a deep breath, raced from her
spot and stopped in front of him, causing him, and the others to stop
as well. They looked at her in terror, knowing who she was.
Next : Part 2
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