ZanZan & The Disciples of Love – A Short Story by Liz Nistico of HOLYCHILDKuraci •
Warning: this story may contain sexual content and/or strong language.
To those remaining:
I want to first tell you why I did it. I had never felt a pleasure so real. I had never felt so complete. I had never known an ancient love, until him.
I am writing from the Voyager X7R5, in its 386th year of travel departed from Earth, currently located in the 12th quadrant of the Omaha Nebula.
In historical biology of course we have spoken about archaic ancestral means of survival, such as food consumption and mating. However it has always been noted how modern technology removed us from those conquests so that the human race could be devoted to something much greater. We no longer waste our lives on the acquisition of money in order to procreate, we no longer waste our hours making and consuming food, we no longer work toward a meaningless existence.
Every morning our pills are distributed which provide our daily food intake. When a woman is of a ripe age, her egg will be scraped from her uterus to be fertilized by the male sperm, and the resulting infant will be placed on the “maturation” floor until old enough to compute adequately and contribute to the rest of humans on X7R5. From what I know, every station we have passed, whether earthly or from another planet, functions in this way. This is efficiency and efficiency brings us closer to conquering the galaxy.
I met ZanZan because our slumber pods were one day moved next to one another. We used to talk at night until the lights and gases would lull us to sleep. ZanZan was unlike anyone I had ever met. He had read ancient texts such as the Bible and Welcome to the Monkey House, and he observed humans more than anyone I had known. His eyes were piercing green and his skin was tan and he told me he thought we were here for a reason other than galactic imperialism.
One night he woke me and brought me to a viewing deck I had never seen. We sat, surrounded by glass and stars and we laughed all night. In the morning I told him, “I want to do it again.”
We continued our nightly ritual and ZanZan became my teacher. He taught me English so we could communicate without the others understanding, and he taught me about humans. He showed me which pills to omit and soon I was craving his body in my pelvis and on my neck and inside of me. He told me this feeling is called “love.”
On the viewing deck he initiated me while twelve of his prophets watched. Love felt so good that as his body fell into mine, the other prophets did the same. They circled us and watched, their bodies in pairs, naked and mirroring our undulating moves.
When ZanZan was done he fed me the milk from his penis. He told me to drink it and he drank the liquid from my body too. I watched the prophets do the same. ZanZan’s milk was thick and as it went down my throat I told him I wanted more. “This is natural, my child,” he said. “This is what the ancients call ‘food.’ You have never tasted food, and now we shall feed you every night.”
Nightly we snuck to our spot and fed one another. ZanZan was always in the middle and I was envious of who he would be loving if it wasn’t me. As I watched his body thrust into another, I would love my partner more, my eyes locked with ZanZan’s and my body begging to be fed.
ZanZan called me “chosen.” After many pairings and many feedings, ZanZan spoke to us.
“I am ravenous. I need you more than I ever have. I need to eat.”
We sat in our circle and ZanZan crawled to our bodies to smell his meal. My chest rose as he came to me, begging for his touch, but he chose another woman and yanked her to the center.
“Tonight we shall feast, my children.”
I watched ZanZan derobe Melika and he ran his tongue from her toes to her ears. My partner did the same until he was ready for love and he slipped inside of me so deeply that I yelped. ZanZan stopped with Melika momentarily and came to my side.
“My chosen, are you hurt?”
“No ZanZan,” my voice shook with my body being thrusted.
“Eat me, my child, I shall feed you.”
My partner stayed deep inside of me. In and out and in and out as ZanZan fed me. When I drank his milk he walked back to Melika and covered her mouth forcefully. She looked into my eyes with envy and I smiled because my partner still was loving me.
ZanZan kept his hand on Melika’s mouth and shouted, “My children! This is love! This is what our ancestors intended for us! We are chosen! Melika is chosen!”
ZanZan moved his hands to her throat and as she choked from his grip he devoured her. His mouth bloody from the bites and his teeth tearing quickly at her skin. For the first five minutes Melika fought. ZanZan soothed her loudly. “You are chosen, my dear,” as he bit muscle and chewed for us to hear. “Keep loving!” he instructed us and we did.
The nights went like this until I was the only one left. Of course the commanders were concerned about the disappearances, but the overpopulation on the ship was a problem they were trying to solve, and apparently the chosen ones did not contribute to the productivity enough for this to be an issue.
I was scared to die but I needed ZanZan’s love. However he did not eat me like the others and I wondered if I was not desirable enough. Soon he had a new dozen prophets and within time they too were gone.
Now the ship’s personnel were worried. Yet ZanZan is smarter than they know. ZanZan had removed himself from the matrix of our ship’s log, and to them he does not exist.
ZanZan told me to deliver him infants and I did. I watched him drink their red blood and I wondered why he did not crave my thick inner sauce. ZanZan instructed me to deliver him new children, and I did. I watched as he licked their bones clean, sticky hands grabbing at their skeletons.
Now ZanZan’s human count is at 79, almost one-third of the former population of Voyager X7R5. He tells me the ancients want it like this, and I beg him to take my body. But he refuses.
At night when I listen to ZanZan slurp the body of a young girl I think of an older time. We would be in a field on earth, the sky is blue, and after just loving me under the sun ZanZan would nourish me and our lives would be happy.
Categorised in: Short Stories