The Binary Planet - 5. Blossoming

The Binary Planet

A Science Fiction Adventure by Altimexis

The binary planetary system of Earth and its moon as seen from Mars

Part 5 - Blossoming

In the evenings, at the Johnston home, I spent all my time with Steve. Steve was ‘cool’, as kids on Earth put it. Steve had an extensive collection of Earth music that he listened to on a device called an iPod. Some of it didn’t sound at all like music to me - it was more like shouting angry words - but most of it was actually very nice. It was different than Loran music - it was hauntingly beautiful.

Steve also liked to play games on something he called a PlayStation. He showed me how to play some of the games. It took a lot of practice before I could keep Steve from trouncing me, but eventually I got the hang of it and did OK. I was surprised at how violent some of the games were. Humans were very violent compared to Lorans but yet they had an appreciation of the arts, and they had a code of ethics as rigorous as our own. By and large they were very kind to one another, so why did they enjoy violence and why did they kill each other? On the other hand even I had to admit that the violent games were fun.

The most important thing we did, however, was just to talk to each other - ‘shoot the shit’ as Steve put it. We spent hours every night talking about anything and everything, learning more and more about each other’s culture and beliefs. Naturally as teenagers, we were also very curious about sex and in that regard had far more in common than we realized.

“So I know you’ve been in space since you were little,” Steve asked one evening, “but what about companionship? I can only imagine how lonely you’ve been but if it were me, I’d be incredibly frustrated too. I mean did you ever wish you had a girlfriend?”

Sighing, I guessed it was time to talk about the differences between Loran and human physiology. “I need to tell you something, Steve, and I need you to promise you won’t be freaked out.”

“You’re from another planet, Lansley,” he replied. “If that doesn’t freak me out, nothing will.”

“OK, then,” I proceeded. “Humans exhibit sexual dimorphism. In fact, nearly all life . . . even plant life on Earth, has this property. There are separate male and female members of every species, or in the case of most plants, male and female organs. Lorans and Cereneans don’t have sexual dimorphism. We are all the same and we can all mate with anyone. We all produce eggs and the eggs merge to form an ovule that grows to become a larva, which then becomes a fetus.”

“You mean there are no men or women on Loran?” Steve asked.

“Nope,” I replied, “just . . . I guess you would call them ‘people’ for lack of a better word.”

“Then who’s the father and who’s the mother?” Steve asked.

“It’s not like that,” I tried to explain. “In the case of Lorans, we both ejaculate an oocytic fluid from our fornicula into our perinacula. There, all the oocytes mix together and usually several ovules are formed from the merged oocytes. These implant in the perinaculum and grow as larvae. When the larvae mature, they release themselves into the ovulum, which is like the pouch your marsupials have, and nurse until they are sufficiently grown to survive outside the ovulum.”

“Whoa!” Steve exclaimed. “So you only have one sex! Man, you look like a boy, but you produce eggs and you can get pregnant?”

“In a sense, yes,” I answered him. “If you were to see me naked, my forniculus would look for all the world to you like a penis. My chest is flat like a boy’s, but I do have mammary glands of a sort, but they’re internal. I also have a pouch like a kangaroo, but the pouch opens in the center instead of on top.

“When we have sexual intercourse, the openings of our ovulua unite to form an enclosed cavity around both partners’ fornicula called a perinaculum. The perinacula are in the center portion of the pouch, or ovulum. After we ejaculate, the perinacula separate and retract back inside the ovulum. The oocytes, or eggs, merge to form ovules, which implant themselves in the perinacula and divide to form the larvae.”

“That’s amazing,” Steve commented, “but what keeps eggs from one of the parents from merging with eggs from the same parent?” he asked.

“There are antigens on the surface of the eggs,” I explained, “that prevent them from attaching to an egg with the same antigens. Because of this, even close relatives cannot mate. Only individuals with completely different surface antigens can successfully have children.”

“I would think there should be multiple births per pregnancy, and yet there’s only one of you?” Steve asked. “Did you have any brothers, or is there a reason why you don’t?”

I felt myself blushing, to which Steve actually commented, “You blushed! I didn’t know you could blush.”

“Yeah, we blush, just like you humans,” I admitted. “We even cry, and smile.”

“I noticed the smiling,” he said with his own smile, but waited patiently for my reply.

“I guess you want an answer,” to which he nodded his head, which I’d learned was a symbolic gesture that meant, ‘yes’. “Well, the truth is that the first larva to mature and detach itself from the perinaculum to become a fetus usually eats the remaining larvae. This insures there will only be one child born at a time. Occasionally two may survive, but that’s not common.”

“Here I thought you were peaceful and it turns out you’re cannibals.”

“Some species on your planet do the same thing,” I pointed out, “and in any case, I certainly don’t remember eating the other larvae in my litter.”

“But with two parents, wouldn’t there still be at least two kids born?” Steve asked.

“The fetus can pass freely between parents when they copulate in bed,” I explained. “We copulate every night when we sleep, regardless of whether or not we engage in intercourse. Because of this, the surviving fetus will consume all the other larvae from both parents and will spend about as much time with each parent during his development.”

“Amazing,” Steve commented. “It’s all so strange . . . well, at least to me it is.”

“Your sexual dimorphism is extremely strange to us,” I countered, and then I asked, “So you asked me if I felt lonely, never having had a girlfriend. How about you? Have you ever had a girlfriend?”

This time it was Steve who blushed, and then he started to answer. “God, this is something I was hoping to avoid but, after all you told me, you have a right to know the truth. Not even my parents know.”

“You make it sound so ominous,” I interrupted.

“Well for a human teenage boy, it is. To answer you, no, I haven’t had a girlfriend, but it’s not because I wasn’t interested in sex or because I couldn’t find one. Lansley, do you know what it means to be gay?”

“Gay as in being happy, or gay as in wanting to have sex with another boy?” I asked innocently enough.

“The second one,” came Steve’s answer.

“Now this is something I really don’t understand,” I said with enthusiasm. “In my species everyone can mate with everyone else, so there is no such thing as homosexual or heterosexual. In a way I guess we are all homosexual, but that is normal for us and it doesn’t preclude us from having children.

“I would have thought that in a species with sexual dimorphism, you would all mate with someone of the opposite sex. It doesn’t make any sense for you to mate with someone of the same sex. There is no way you can produce children that way, so there is no reason for homosexuality to exist.

“Why then do you choose to be gay? I take it you’re saying you’re gay, by the way.”

“Yes Lansley, I’m gay,” Steve answered, “but let me set you straight right now. I did not choose to be gay. When I hit puberty, I found myself strongly attracted to boys and only boys. I have never, ever felt a desire to have sex with a girl. I did not choose to feel this way . . . it’s just the way I am.”

“But that still doesn’t make sense,” I proclaimed. “If the cause of homosexuality is genetic, it should have been eliminated from the population some time ago.”

“It’s not that simple,” Steve countered. “No one has ever found a gene for homosexuality. Sometimes being gay runs in families, but sometimes it doesn’t. It seems likely that there are multiple genes that together predispose someone to being gay, straight or bisexual. We just don’t understand how it works.

“Now as to why the genes for homosexuality haven’t been eliminated from the population, some traits can benefit the gene pool without benefiting the individual and these traits are then passed on to the population as a whole because they provide a survival benefit. For example, men who are aggressive and the most successful in obtaining female mates may lack certain traits that are useful to the community. In many primitive cultures, gay men were the medicine men. They were not saddled with child-rearing responsibilities or with hunting and could devote their full attention to the art of healing.

“Likewise, some of the most creative people in our history have been gay. The famous artist, Michelangelo, and the famous composer, Tchaikovsky, were both gay. By enriching society, they enhanced the gene pool overall.”

“You know,” I said, “that makes perfect sense! Thank you, Steve. You’ve explained so much to me. But if you have no choice in the matter, it seems so unfair that some would ridicule you for what’s not under your control.”

“Tell me about it,” Steve answered. “I’m scared to death to tell anyone . . . even my parents. I think they’ll still love me, but what if I’m wrong? What if they kick me out of the house for being gay?”

“Why would they do that?” I asked. “They’re your parents and they should love you no matter what.”

“Yes, they should,” he agreed, “and they probably will, but I’ve read horror stories about kids who’ve been kicked out for being gay and had to live on the street, even resorting to prostitution to survive.”

“That’s horrible,” I said. “How can your society allow such a thing to happen?”

“It shouldn’t,” Steve agreed.

“Well, I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” I countered. “You should hear how your father talks about you at work. I’m sure he’ll still love you, even when he finds out you’re gay.”

“Please don’t tell him, OK?” Steve pleaded with me.

“Of course not,” I assured him. “That’s something for you to tell your parents.”

I then asked him, “So, you told me you’ve never had a girlfriend, but how about a boyfriend?”

“I’m not out, Lansley,” he explained. “No one knows I’m gay, well, except for you now. It’s kind of hard to find a boyfriend if no one else knows you’re gay. I’m still a virgin. The only sex I’ve had is at my own hand.”

“Your own hand?” I asked. “Please explain.”

Steve’s face turned a deep shade of red. He was blushing! It was so cute. Something told me this would be good.

“Well, like I’m horny all the time,” he started to answer. “That means I always feel like I need to have sex. It’s kind of like a pressure, you know? If I don’t ejaculate during the day, I’ll end up having erotic dreams and ejaculating in my sleep, which is sooo embarrassing.

“Most teenage boys have this problem, regardless of whether they’re gay or straight, ’cause we never can get as much sex as our bodies seem to need. We therefore jerk ourselves off . . . we, um, stimulate ourselves until we ejaculate while we imagine having sex. In my case, I imagine having sex with a boy.”

“That is so cool!” I responded. “We do exactly the same thing! I ‘jerk off’ just about every day!”

“Me too,” Steve added excitedly, but then he became nervous all of a sudden. “Ah, Lansley, could I ask you something?”

“You can always ask,” I answered.

“Well since you jerk off, and I jerk off, do you think that maybe we could do it together? I’d kind of like to see what you look like without clothes on.”

“That would be wicked cool,” I answered.

Rather than say anything more, Steve began removing his clothes and when I saw what he was doing, I did likewise. While I was undressing, my forniculus expanded and became rock hard. As humans would say, I had an erection, and so did Steve.

At first we just stared at each other, taking in all there was to see.

“Man, I can’t believe how similar we are,” Steve finally said. “I know our parts serve different functions, but they look so much the same.”

“A case of concurrent evolution,” I noted.

“If your mammary glands are internal,” Steve asked, “why do you have nipples on your chest?”

“Some of our animals have perinacula that extend all the way up to the chin. Those nipples are vestigial and the mammary tissue underneath them is undeveloped. The nipples are very sensitive to touch, however, and quite erotic during sex.”

“Just like mine!” Steve exclaimed, and then he asked, “May I touch you?”

“Of course,” I responded, “if you’ll let me touch you too.”

“I’d like that, very much.” Steve answered.

We both reached forward and gently touched each other’s nipples. To say the sensation that coursed through my body was electric would have been an understatement. Steve then moved his hands downward and tentatively touched my forniculus. I jerked when he did that and for a moment, my eyes rolled back into my head. I’d never felt anything like it before. When I jerked, however, Steve quickly pulled his hand back.

“No, that felt wonderful,” I said, “and you don’t have to worry about breaking it either. Feel free to grab it, like I do when I jerk off.”

“The same goes for you,” Steve said with the cutest smile, but also with a look in his eyes that I could only describe as one of . . . hunger.

We grabbed hold of each other, and the feeling was indescribable.

“This is so cool,” Steve said. “I think I see the opening for your perinaculum. It looks like you have vertical lips above and around your forniculus. They look kind of like the labia in a human girl.”

“Actually we refer to them as lips, and they’re very sensitive,” I added. “Go ahead and touch them if you want.”

Steve didn’t need me to tell him twice. He started to stroke and prod my perinacular lips, and I almost came right then and there from the incredible sensations he generated within me. In the meantime I started to explore the area under his penis, feeling the loose skin of his scrotum and kneading the testicles inside.

“God, you almost made me cum from doing that,” Steve cried out. “That feels fantastic!”

“So does what you’re doing to me!” I responded.

As we continued to stroke and fondle each other, we became progressively more and more aroused. Soon, my perinaculum opened up, prompting Steve to say, “What’s that incredible smell? It smells like warm apple cobbler or something.”

“That’s the way we smell when we have sex,” I answered. “It comes from the perinaculum.”

“Boy, I almost want to taste it,” he added.

“Maybe when we get to know each other better,” I replied seductively - at least seductively for a Loran, but Steve seemed to take it as intended.

“You really mean that?” he asked.

“Of course I mean it,” I replied. “That’s part of the way we have oral sex. But right now I’m really close.”

“Me too,” Steve said.

We started stroking our appendages up and down, more and more rapidly. Suddenly Steve went rigid, his back arched and a milky white fluid shot out the end of his penis, landing on my chest. Seeing that sent me over the edge as my thick brown fluid spurted out the end of my forniculus and coated Steve’s chest, too.

“Your ejaculate looks like chocolate!” Steve exclaimed. Scooping some of it onto his finger, he sniffed it and said, “It smells like chocolate,” and then he did something he probably shouldn’t have - he stuck his finger in his mouth and said, “It even tastes like chocolate!”

“Before you go licking it all up,” I cautioned, “keep in mind that we don’t know if it’s safe for you to ingest. If you don’t get sick from it this time, maybe you can try a little more of it the next time and so on.

“Now your ejaculate looks and smells like something we call sural back home. It’s a Loran delicacy.” Taking a little of it on my finger and licking it, I exclaimed, “It tastes just like sural. This stuff’s great!”

“Let’s go take a shower and clean up,” Steve suggested, and we did.

While Steve was lathering up my fur, he asked, “Do Lorans kiss?”

“Yes, we do,” I answered. “It’s a very intimate part of showing affection for one another.”

“May I kiss you, Lansley,” he asked.

Kissing would be taking things to a whole other level. Kissing would be about much more than just getting each other off. But at that moment, standing in the shower with Steve, the affection I felt for him swelled exponentially. Tentatively I moved my face close to his and closed my eyes as our lips connected. The feeling of Steve’s lips on mine was incredible. When he opened his mouth and slipped his tongue into my mouth, I nearly shot another load right there in the shower. Our tongues were different - mine was smooth where his was rough, and mine attached in the front of my mouth whereas his was attached in the back - but the feeling of his tongue against mine was like nothing I’d ever felt.

‘Am I in love?’ I couldn’t help but ask myself, but I dared not tell this to Steve. A relationship between different species could never work.

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