“Cloudless Climes and Starry Skies”
\nby A. C. Quill<\/p>\n
In the autumn of Jenna\u2019s life, the opportunity arose for her to live on another planet.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n She protested that she was too old.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n The company said: you could be younger. They offered to pay for her to be totally rejuvenated.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Jenna had never seriously considered rejuvenation. But now she saw that she could put her lifetime of knowledge into a younger body, and grow that knowledge over another lifetime. That was appealing.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n The transformation would be carried out onboard the ship, during the journey to her new home. The company promised Jenna she would hardly notice it had happened.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n #<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Jenna woke, and tottered down the metal corridor, towards the sound of chatter. The mess hall of the ship was full of strangers, youngsters. They looked like students, faces smooth and guileless.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n A gangly young man greeted her: \u201cJenna? Is it you?\u201d His voice was higher-pitched, but had the intonations of Professor Harris, the biology specialist.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n These were her old colleagues, to whom she would have to put new faces. One by one, they identified themselves. Most were taller than they had been. Several were thin enough to blow away in a strong wind. Jenna squeezed her arms around herself, relieved she\u2019d kept most of her mass. Everyone looked unfinished.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Elaine, Jenna\u2019 closest friend on the team, had swapped her halo of white hair for dark curls. The geologist with fifty year\u2019s experience now looked like a teenage tomboy.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Eyes were lingering on Jenna. She turned away, self-conscious. How raw she must look.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Then she noticed that Professor Harris\u2019 gaze was frankly admiring, which appalled her.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Jenna began to realize that she was reacting very differently from the others.<\/span><\/p>\n #<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Jenna retreated to her cabin, to accustom herself to her new-old flesh.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Curves on her flanks, which she remembered as double or triple dips, were single. It took less time to run a hand over her hips, and was less interesting. Breasts had shifted upwards, no longer hanging comfortably but shoving themselves out. Age spots had vanished from the backs of her hands. What else was missing? A long curve of curly hairs were gone from the insides of her thighs.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Jenna found herself crying. Mourning lost pubic hair? Ridiculous.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n She took a first look at her own reflection, her eerie firm face.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n \u201cThis is a turn-up for the books,\u201d she said, and the phrase sounded foolishly arch, coming from that plump young mouth.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n She sighed. She had work ahead of her.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n It had always required some work to value her flesh, when others didn\u2019t. Treasuring her fat, cherishing her age. One way to love her flesh, she\u2019d found, was to touch herself enthusiastically. Fortunately, she\u2019d brought a bag of toys (a significant proportion of her weight allowance for the trip).<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Everything felt a little out of sync, at first. Some favorite spots now made her wriggle uncomfortably, other angles of approach were almost numb. But was that a physical change, or the shock of it all?\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Thankfully, with a little nudging, her lust woke up, with delights and demands. From that point on, her basic reactions remained: five minutes of fierce delicious vibration, then a nice long pull with a canny curved tool on her G-spot, and everything lit up. Hot iron filings flowed all round her cunt. Thank goodness, the decades of practice hadn\u2019t been wasted.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Afterwards, as she dressed again, she seemed to recognize more of her body: those were still her big feet and strong calves. She emerged, emboldened, to face the other crew members.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n #<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n The mess-room was like the <\/span><\/span><\/span>Marie Celeste<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span>.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Jenna was about to call out her colleagues\u2019 names. Then she heard a moan, from behind cabin doors. Then a giggle, and a rhythmic thumping against a thin mattress. She moved from door to door. Enough cabins were loudly occupied to account for the whole crew.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n It seemed that the rest of them had taken very well to their new bodies.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Such a misjudgment! Entanglements would cause problems, once they reached their destination. Jenna stamped off to the kitchen, to grumble and mix herself some cocoa.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cHello, old thing.\u201d Again, the voice had familiar cadences, but no resonance to it. It was Elaine, the tomboy geologist, with a wry smile. \u201cHow\u2019s the orgy going?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n \u201cFor goodness\u2019 sake, what happened?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Elaine waved a hand. \u201cThey all sort of paired off – or trio\u2019d off – and went at it.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWere they drunk?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n \u201cNope. Full of the joys of spring.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n It felt obscene to be talking about sex to someone as young as Elaine looked. \u201cI\u2019m glad I wasn\u2019t around.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI rather wish you had been,\u201d Elaine said, mournfully. \u201cNot for sex! I mean, to have someone else to talk to…\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Their former camaraderie seemed to have survived their rejuvenation. Jenna leaned against the cupboards. \u201cYou weren\u2019t tempted to join in?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n \u201cOh, no. Even the last time I looked like this, it wouldn\u2019t have been my cup of tea. Speaking of which: tea?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n \u201cCocoa?\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Jenna braced her arms, and pushed herself up to sit on the kitchen counter. She couldn\u2019t have done that, before rejuvenation. A small solace.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Elaine tipped sachets into mugs of hot water. \u201cYou\u2019re not smitten with all this?\u201d she asked, carefully.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n \u201c<\/span>I gave up so much. My home!\u201d That gave Jenna a pang, at the thought of her cottage, now an early inheritance for her great-niece. \u201cI thought I could bring everything I needed.\u201d Jenna touched her forehead. \u201cBut I didn\u2019t realize how much my body was my home.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019ll get there eventually,\u201d said Elaine. Jenna wondered if she meant self-acceptance, or old age, and which would come first.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n #<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n There would be another two weeks of travelling, before they reached the new planet.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Jenna spent the time tormented by an entirely new fetish.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Visible veins. That was the first thing. How sexy were those slightly swollen lines, travelling the back of the hands? And then, strong bony wrists. Lines running from nose to jaw, framing the mouth to make it more succulent. And a face full of creases, a face that truly changed between being at peace or in ecstacy.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n She looked for all these things in films, but most of the cast were terribly young, as well. She found herself looking up the last roles of famous actors, then abandoned that: too morbid.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n The fetish spread to things beyond the flesh. Jenna felt excruciating desires for objects she\u2019d left behind: second-hand tweed with rich tones and moth-holes. Yellowing paperbacks.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n She\u2019d owned an antique silk dressing gown, clinging and cool, which had slithered around wonderfully on her bare hips, when pushed by a lover\u2019s hands. Hands with age spots, she thought, squirming in frustration, and visible veins.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Confined to a metal box without seasons, she thought of autumn, often. A misty walk through a great park, under pearl-grey clouded skies. Grandfather stags bellowing their seniority from deep in their massive chests. A heap of dry russet leaves, ideal to wrestle a lover down and pin them between her thighs.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Great trees. She put her back to the steel wall of her cabin and imagined herself pressed between a silver-haired lover and a strong old oak. Hundreds of years of growth in the trunk behind her. Imagine bracing against it, to meet a lover\u2019s thrust…\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Jenna didn\u2019t turn her libido towards any of her colleagues. Their faces had no history.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n The whole ship was so new, but felt perversely lifeless. Its shiny surfaces denied age, and growth, and thus denied life.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n #<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n After a week, Jenna thought of a solution to her cravings. She took herself to the observation nook. It was the smallest space on the ship. Inside was a single porthole. Any window on a ship was an engineering risk, but someone had weighed up its worth for the mental wellbeing of the crew. It was good for them to be able to look out, to see the black velvet skies.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Through the portal glass, Jenna saw stars. Tiny white spatters on the darkness of space.\u00a0Jenna locked the hatch behind her, lay down on the chilly kickplate deck, and pulled off her clothes. <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n With no lights inside the observation nook, she couldn\u2019t even see her own body. Then her pupils expanded, greedy for a glimmer of light. Her torso appeared as a haze, a pale patch.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n But that meant that the light from the stars was crossing her belly and her chest. Her nipples tightened, and her breath came faster.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Jenna told herself about the stars. <\/span><\/span><\/span>Betelgeuse was 640 light years away. There was a star in Cassiopeia, much further off: 4000 light years distant. <\/span><\/span><\/span>Some of the particles of light currently landing on her could come from the Andromeda Galaxy. They could be two and a half million years old.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Older than books, or silk, or trees. Half as old as planet earth. Old enough to satisfy her.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Jenna lay blissful on the cold deck, knowing she was being touched by the oldest thing in the universe.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n –<\/p>\n A.C. Quill is a queer living in London, who writes both science fiction and erotica with a shoddy grasp of the mechanics.<\/p>\n