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“Moneo.”
“Yes, my lord?”
“I have a predicament.”
The life of Leto Atreides II was surely the most lonely existence in the whole of the universe. He was both the God Emperor and the Worm, thirty-five centuries old within his ever-changing body, and much, much older in spirit, bearing the consciousnesses of tens of thousands of ancestors that came before him. With each passing day, the sandtrout colony became more intertwined with his biology, always changing him to be more and more like the sandworms of old, eroding away what little was left of his humanity. They were one body now, a pre-worm form seven meters long and weighing five tons. There was no being in the universe like him.
“I have an itch.” Leto said.
Moneo was surprised by the request implied in the God Emperor’s words. As his majordomo, Moneo was servile in all things, but rarely did the God Emperor have such human impairments. On the occasion that he did have such a moment of vulnerability, he would usually resolve such problems himself. It was unbecoming of a God to grapple with something as simple as an itch or sore.
“Where, my lord?”
“If it were a place my arms could reach, I would not be discussing it with you.” There was a hint of bitterness in Leto’s words. He often had a tendency to penetrate Moneo’s private mind, speaking aloud what Moneo had only thought. “The itch is beneath my chin.”
Moneo looked up at the God Emperor’s huge pre-worm body, a tumescent mass of ribbed silver segments only interrupted by his pinkish human face, proportioned appropriately for a man’s body, but dwarfed by his divinely monstrous form. Leto’s face was sunken into a recess of slightly protruding scaly flesh, forming a ‘hood’ of silvery worm-skin with pink, humanoid flesh on the interior where it tightly ensconced the human features. There was only a small gap between Leto’s chin and the worm-skin, an inverted triangle where light could not penetrate.
Does he expect me to stick my hand in there? Does he house a neck and shoulders inside, or is it just more worm-flesh? Has anyone touched my Lord in that way for hundreds of years?
“Nobody has touched me in that place since my metamorphosis began,” Leto said. “I suspect that the humidity during our stroll outside the Citadel has irritated me there in an unusual way. Do not remove those gloves, Moneo. Even the moisture from your skin can invite an unpleasant sensation, these days.”
Moneo looked down at his hands. Yes, his all-white Atreides uniform included a pair of gloves, but they were mere fabric and he worried that the perspiration of fear might bleed through them. In Moneo’s eyes, Leto, the man, was only one half of the being the universe knew as their God and ruler. There was also the Worm. The Worm was the part of God that acted irrationally and lashed out unexpectedly, crushing men beneath its terrifying bulk. Moneo had seen the Worm do its dirty work many times before. His career had only gone on for as long as it had because he was cautious of when the Worm approached, and had narrowly guided the God Emperor away from that berserk state many times. He did not like the idea of being so dangerously close to the God Emperor that he could not hope to escape if the Worm approached, especially not when doing such an experimental and provocative motion as touching Leto’s human body. What would happen to Moneo’s hand if the God Emperor’s cowl snapped shut, just as Moneo had seen it do countless times in a moment of agitation? Moneo had never touched Leto’s worm-body before, not anywhere. He had not seen nor heard of anyone casually touching the God Emperor in his entire life.
“I would not ask it of you if I had an alternative, Moneo. Let me have the dignity of not begging for your assistance, and we shall be over with this embarrassing situation quickly.”
My Lord is embarrassed! I have never seen him be embarrassed before.
“I have not been embarrassed in a thousand years!” Leto said curtly. “Time blunts those insecurities. It is you that feels shame about this request, Moneo. Now be on with it.”
Leto leaned down towards Moneo. Although his human head stood only slightly higher than where it might be positioned on a mere man, Leto reclined upon the raised platform of his Royal Cart and had to stoop deeply to reach Moneo’s level. The cavity beneath Leto’s chin was an uninvitingly fleshy one, the same raw-looking pink skin as his human face. Moneo had never been so close to his Emperor, and noted the strange peculiarities about what remained of his human body. His skin was faintly moist, pink with a pitted texture like the surface of a man’s tongue. That moisture pooled in the recess beneath his chin, a deep fleshy chamber like a throat with no visible end.
Reluctantly, Moneo moved his hand to the jutting edge of Leto’s chin, cautious of the physiological reaction he might provoke. The God Emperor’s all-blue eyes stared at him, and Moneo recognized the silent command to probe deeper. He slid his hand past the slick surface of Leto’s chin, edging his arm further into the cavity. The temperature within this intimate recess of the God Emperor’s body was hot to the point of discomfort, and alarmingly wet. Moneo could not imagine that it was plain water, given the Worm’s aversion to it, but some secretion produced by Leto’s pre-worm body, something faintly viscous and acidic-smelling. His arm was nearly up to the elbow, and Moneo estimated that he could fit up to his shoulder in the pit and not feel its back. He felt around the roof of the cavity with his open hand, palming it gently so as not to cause Leto any discomfort.
The God Emperor moaned.
Moneo practically jumped out of his skin. What a terrible noise my Lord makes! Does the Worm approach? Have I missed the signs?
Although hesitant to jerk his arm away from the cavity lest it bring the Worm any closer, Moneo frantically checked for the telltale signs he had trained his mind to detect. The God Emperor’s long, silvery hands did not shake, and his useless flippers, once legs, didn’t thrash, but his eyes bore the same glazed-over appearance, and Leto’s mouth fell slightly agape in the most peculiar way. The expression on his God’s face was not one Moneo had ever seen before.
“My Lord, have I hurt you in some way?” Moneo’s voice was unsteady, barely able to suppress the fear within it. The God Emperor would surely know his desperation regardless, but he was still terrified of appearing vulnerable before his Lord. Nothing could have ever prepared him for this moment of terrifying intimacy.
“Ahh,” Leto exclaimed, a soft utterance unlike any noise Moneo had heard him make before. Leto seemed to jolt back to the present moment, eyes suddenly re-focusing upon Moneo’s face, mere inches from his own. Could Moneo detect a faint blush to his Lord’s cheeks? Perhaps the God Emperor could feel embarrassment, after all. “Ah! No, Moneo, I am not displeased by your… ministrations. There is a slight stinging from the faint trace of moisture, but I will bear it. Do be gentle. I believe I’ve made quite a miraculous discovery about this body. Please continue.”
Have I ever heard him say ‘please’ before? I am thankful nobody else is here to observe this! The Fish Speakers would obsess over this strange indiscretion for months.
“Where is the itch, my Lord?”
“It is--ah--just a bit further in. You’re very near to it.”
Begrudgingly, Moneo reached deeper into the chasm, running his palm along its roof. There was a faint ribbing along the fleshy surface, which Moneo decided was evocative of the roof of a mouth. He was nearly up to his shoulder now, putting him distressingly close to the God Emperor’s face. Leto had returned to that same far-off expression, consumed by whatever sensation he experienced under Moneo’s touch. He watched as Leto bit his lip to stifle a noise, but Moneo could still feel it as a deep rumble palpable in all the flesh encircling his soaked arm. While he did not wish to be rash, not least when his assumption might draw the ire of the Worm, there was only one conclusion he could draw upon seeing the obvious bliss across the God Emperor’s face.
“My Lord… am I complicit in an act that is… erotic for you?”
“Moneo!” Leto’s voice was disparaging, as if expressing great disgust at Moneo’s postulation. “I am disappointed in you. This is simply a favor that you are performing for me. Is it untoward for a man to rub his friend's back? This is a strictly platonic exchange. The act of two friends, nothing more.”
Oh, Worm or not, I can't take this anymore!
Moneo withdrew his hand from the orifice, wringing the acrid slickness from his glove. His pristine uniform was soaked up to the shoulder, and Moneo wore a clear look of distress on his face. Leto’s hole hung slightly agape beneath his face. “My Lord, I really must protest! I think perhaps you should find someone else in your employ to ‘scratch your itch.’ Someone who is more comfortable with this level of intimacy with you, perhaps.”
“Moneo, you loathsome recreant! Recall that nobody has touched me in this intimate place but you, not ever! You are well aware that I have no genitalia, no sexual organs whatsoever. Perversion clouds your mind alone. There is no one that I can entrust this act of vulnerability to if not my majordomo.”
Moneo steepled his fingers and then recoiled, regretting the introduction of slick bodily fluid from his soiled hand to the clean one. “If I may be so bold, I would invite you to reconsider that assertion, my Lord. Perhaps Hwi Noree would be more suited to this task than I am. You are engaged to be married, after all.”
At no time in his career had Moneo ever advised the God Emperor so brashly. He flinched instinctively as Leto shifted upright again, fearing that it would be the moment the Worm annihilated him. But death did not come.
“Gentle Hwi… do you really think she would feel anything but repulsion about my body, Moneo?”
It took a moment for Moneo to recognize that his Lord’s question was not rhetorical. When did God need to ask his vassal a question? Leto tested and probed, but rarely did he ask something outright that he did not already know the answer to. Moneo resisted the urge to cringe. The God Emperor was like a boy with a petty crush.
“I am sure that she would be more willing to serve you in this way than I am, my Lord.”
Leto sighed. “Ultimately, I must concede that you are right, however reluctantly. This was an unbecoming thing to ask of you, Moneo. Summon Hwi here, to my audience chamber, and ensure we are not interrupted.”
“Of course, my Lord.”
“Do not make the mistake of rushing over my words so you can be away from me! Provide her with a set of insemination gloves from the D-wolves’ menagerie, and instruct her to bring that Ixian device she keeps in her top drawer. Do not insinuate that I know about it--if she inquires about how there is knowledge about the device, say that the Fish Speakers have done a security sweep of her bedroom. I do not wish for her to know that I have looked upon her in private moments.”
Moneo resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably where he stood. He was desperate to be away from the God Emperor and wash himself thoroughly. “It will be done as you instruct, my Lord.”
“You are excused, Moneo.”
He did not hesitate to turn and leave.
Insemination gloves and a woman’s private device! I’ve been tasked with arranging for a mating between Hwi Noree and the God Emperor! I cannot lose my head now. I’ve arranged countless breeding sessions before. This will be no different.
Leto was a curious man, and his spontaneous behavior often took Hwi by surprise. It was something that she admired about him. He challenged the people around him, always acting as a force of social evolution, always pushing them to step outside their comfort zone. But this request was unusual even for him, and Hwi certainly felt like she was going far beyond the safe and familiar.
She walked the halls of the God Emperor’s citadel escorted by two Fish Speakers. Moneo had been the one to deliver her summons personally, but he looked unusually disheveled and had excused himself soon after. Hwi barely had the time to get dressed properly in a narrow dark green gown, not quite as fetching as what she would normally wear for Leto, but comfortable and attractive enough. Moneo had said it did not matter what she wore, for the God Emperor was not one to be concerned much with physical appearances. She had to concede that there was some logic to that.
Hwi had learned the two Fish Speaker’s faces, but not their names, and the atmosphere surrounding the three women was cold and distant. The Fish Speakers did not like that Hwi was marrying their God. Tucked under Hwi’s arm was a small cloth parcel which she kept tightly against her person. Despite the fact that they clearly knew about her private possessions, Hwi still clung to an irrational desire for privacy.
The God Emperor received her within his shadowy personal chamber, which had a recess for the Royal Cart allowing Leto to sit nearly at her eye level. The room had been designed to make the God Emperor look as approachable as possible, diminishing his bulk and wreathing the extent of his worm-body in darkness. Hwi felt that there was little need for Leto to hide his body from her. She had seen it all, and committed to loving him anyways.
“You two may go now. Do not disturb us further.” Leto’s voice had a bassy, authoritative rumble to it that made every word feel absolute, each order a mandate from God.
After the Fish Speakers left, Hwi moved to seat herself on the red couch in the center of the room, but Leto shook his head and made a motion for her to stop.
“Please, Hwi. Join me in the cart, at my side.”
Hwi thought about the items she’s been told to bring along, the intimate package she’d tucked against her person.
Join him in the cart! I’ve never shared that level of physical intimacy with him.
Though trepidatious, Hwi wasted no time clambering into the chrome perambulator, conscious of seating herself a few inches from Leto’s silver bulk. She did not wish to harm him with the moisture of her body.
Leto’s body was a monolith beside her, a pillar of erect worm flesh that finally terminated in a gently pointed tip. The pronounced ringlet of his topmost segment formed a tapered bulb capping his pre-worm body, his pink face emerging just beneath it.
Hwi watched as Leto drummed his narrow, long fingers against the console of the cart. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice.”
Is he nervous? I’ve only known him to be utterly self-assured.
“You are well aware of the reason why we can be joined only in spirit, and not in body,” Leto continued. “I have no genitals. No sexual apparatus nor sexual ability of any kind.”
“You have made a habit of mentioning it, yes. I’ve come to terms with this fact, Love, and care for you all the same.”
Leto shuddered, a vibration which ran from the tail end of him to the tip, all seven meters of his body. “Gentle Hwi, you know my heart like none other. But if I could share the sensations of the body with you, even if it were this alien form, is there the narrowest possibility that a union with me would please you?”
“Nothing would make me happier, my love.”
Leto grinned--an uncommon expression for the God Emperor and one that might be off-putting to an individual less open-minded than Hwi. Many would prefer to imagine their monsters with a scowl, rather than a smile. But the levity left his expression quickly. “It would not be like coitus you have known before.”
“I realize now that I did not know anything before meeting you.”
“Put the gloves on, Hwi.”
Hwi laid her cloth bundle in front of her and unwrapped it, revealing two bright blue, arm length gloves of thick latex and her modest, vibrating plastic phallus--a keepsake from her life back on Ix. Despite everything, she still blushed to have such a private object revealed before the God Emperor. She put the gloves on, afraid of how they’d hamper her svelte silhouette in Leto’s eyes, but he only watched with obvious infatuation. The gloves reached as far as her shoulders, where the excess length crumpled somewhat unpleasantly into her armpits.
“What now, Love?” she asked.
Leto leaned over her, his head raised slightly to expose the subtle orifice below his chin to her. Leto’s human face was slightly bulbous, Hwi noted, a subtly protruding pink hemisphere of softer pink flesh surrounded by those gray, scaly flanges. Ahead of her was the entrance itself, a narrow black chasm she could easily have lost amongst the folds where his humanoid skin met the worm flesh. “If you are willing, then put your hand in the hole. Do be gentle with me, please. I am more sensitive than I could have possibly anticipated.”
Tentatively, Hwi reached out to feel Leto’s human cheek. He shuddered, immediately leaning his face against her hand. When it was apparent that her touch did not harm him, she slowly let her hand trail down to the entrance of Leto’s orifice.
How long has it been since anyone has touched you like this, Leto?
Hwi slipped her fingers inside the yawning hole, her hand following. Leto’s anatomy was not unlike her own genitalia, but most significantly different was the matter of scale. Leto was huge, and this alien chasm felt too large for Hwi to hope to fill. It was distressingly warm within Leto’s body, made all the more uncomfortable for the thick gloves she wore. She wanted to explore the strangeness of this part of him, to know what made her lover twitch. Hwi braced herself against Leto’s worm-body with one hand, and ran the other back and forth along the roof of the fleshy pit.
Leto yelped, and Hwi instinctively retreated. “Have I moved too quickly for you?”
“No, not at all. I am just unaccustomed to this type of intimacy. I have not shared this body with anyone in the whole of my life. I am a thirty-five-hundred-year-old virgin. It must seem quite pitiable to you.”
In response, Hwi reached further into the pit, maintaining eye contact with her lover. The chasm was muscular, and she could feel it flexing faintly in response to her contact with it. It was almost as if Leto wanted to pull her deeper in, sucking at her arm. She could feel through her gloves that it was damp inside, slick with Leto’s clear fluids. Hwi rolled her palm over the roof of the chasm, studying the response on Leto’s face. It was like she’d caught him in a trance, eyes rolled back and lips slightly parted. As she reached further, she could feel the faint rise and fall of his breath through the back-most parts of his passage. Hwi’s face was just beside his now, her arm wedged up to the shoulder in Leto’s cavity. Though quiet, she could hear the unsteady breathing of one lost in ecstasy.
It’s a vagina. This is Leto’s vagina.
“You haven’t done this with anyone else, Love?” Hwi asked.
“I did not know this was possible until Moneo discovered how sensitive I could be. I called you here immediately afterwards.”
“That explains much about the look on his face earlier. Poor Moneo!”
“He is beyond loyal, if nothing else.”
“May I kiss you, my love? Will it hurt?”
“It will, but you may.”
Slowly, gently, Hwi pressed her lips against Leto’s. He was inexperienced, as she might have expected, but it was very much like any other kiss. At the same time, she let her fingers trail over the texture of his enormous vaginal canal, rolling her fingertips back and forth along the various moistened ridges. Hwi had nearly let her eyes close when she detected a soft fizzing sensation against her lips and snapped back to attention. A thin wisp of blue-hued smoke arose where her skin met his. Hwi jerked away, nearly falling backwards into the cart, only to find herself caught in Leto’s long and narrow silver arms. There were places where her bare skin touched his and more of those wisps of smoke arose, but Leto’s face showed no sign of pain. Her arm, fleetingly pulled free from his orifice, was completely soaked in his fluids.
“You suffer so much for your passions.”
“I would suffer anything for you.”
Leto grasped Hwi’s Ixian dildo, taking a moment to familiarize himself with the different pulses it could vibrate with. Hwi slipped her hands between her legs, pushing aside her undergarments to test the wetness of her own sex.
“May I ask if you have any lubricant available?”
Leto pawed through the compartments of his Royal Cart for several seconds, then finally made a noise of contentment. He pressed a thin bottle of viscous dark red fluid into Hwi’s hands.
“Spice oil,” he said. “It should be safe for both of our bodies.”
The moment Hwi uncorked the bottle, an overpowering smell of cinnamon assaulted her senses. Spice was such a rare commodity in the universe. To use such a luxurious resource for something as simple as sex was a luxury that could only be afforded to the God Emperor himself.
Hwi poured a small amount of the oil into her hand and smeared it over her vulva, then across the length of the Ixian phallus. Then, pouring out a much more generous helping of oil, she thoroughly greased each of her forearms. Leto watched her with intense curiosity.
Sufficiently readied, Hwi probed Leto’s entrance again, holding it agape for a moment with both hands. She slipped one hand in, then the other, easing slowly up to her elbow with her hands clasped together. Leto let out a low moan of pleasure, which Hwi could sense as a rumble reverberating through his fleshy chasm. She pressed deeper.
Leto, meanwhile, took the vibrator in his hands and turned the dial on its end to awaken it. It buzzed and his hands shook, such a display of physical vulnerability for one so imposing. Leto had not felt so nervous in decades, or perhaps centuries. It was an exhilarating sensation.
He aligned the Ixian tool with Hwi’s sex, checking once with her to ensure she approved. Leto had never done such things with anyone, and his vast repository of genetic memory did not know of things like Ixian vibrating devices. They had been invented in Leto’s own lifetime. But he could call on the memories of older practices, and trusted that he knew enough.
“Oh!” Hwi yelped. “More gently, Love.”
Leto fell into a rhythm, slowly fucking Hwi while she probed deeper into his passage. Hwi moaned, softly, quietly, and he moaned with her. This was the cadence they fell into, Leto easing more of his bulk down on Hwi, pushing her extremities even deeper inside of him, while she ground her hips against the toy in Leto’s hands. Though it may have felt unintuitive for the both of them, they could have sex, in a way that nobody had ever conceived of in the whole of the universe. Hwi let out a laugh, loud and unrestrained, acknowledging the equal aspects of joy and absurdity in the situation.
She could feel the wetness, the steady undulation of Leto’s flesh, the pressure and heat squeezing against her arms. The feeling mingled with the pleasure Hwi received as she was fucked into a totally overwhelming stimulation. It was engrossing, a full-body sensation of elemental lust. The entirety of Leto’s bulk loomed above her, a simulacrum of her Ixian toy in silhouette, magnified to a colossal scale. Though she could not explore Leto’s body as deftly with her hands clasped and arms together, Hwi was able to use her arms to fuck him, awkwardly, but with passion--she, too, mimicked her own sex toy, fucking Leto in the same manner in which he fucked her.
Hwi kissed Leto again--quickly, delicately, mindful of how the blue smoke rose from his lips. The fleeting wisps shrouded his face in a momentary veil of blue-gray haze, obfuscating his features for an instant before clearing. Leto’s eyes were half lidded, and his breathing came out short, and unsteady. Hwi could hardly control her own breathing.
“Love,” Hwi panted. “Are you close?”
“I… do not know. This is all new to me. Are you?”
“Yes, oh yes, my dear.”
Leto fucked her with renewed vigor, occasionally grazing his hand against her bare skin where fresh spouts of blue smoke would appear. He could not be bothered to care. Hwi felt the sucking, spasming action of his orifice, Leto unconsciously fucking himself upon her body as much as she did upon his. Their action rose to a crescendo, all sweat and heavy breathing, anxious motion in synchronicity leading to their ultimate climax. Leto came first, a spasming contraction squeezing Hwi’s arms as a deep, shaky moan escaped from his lips. Leto nearly fell atop her then, almost surrendering to sensation before remembering Hwi’s needs and reasserting his efforts to bring her to climax. Hwi fucked herself on the toy he held rapidly and without rhythm, shivering, squirming, moaning, until finally cresting over the edge into orgasm. She collapsed in euphoria, withdrawing from Leto in a flood of mixed fluids. She only faintly acknowledged Leto’s moisture running not only down her arms but staining most of her torso, just as her slickness and lube trickled down her thighs.
Hesitantly, as if wanting to never decouple from her, Leto withdrew the toy and set it aside, collapsing in the Cart beside Hwi. She looked a mess, completely drenched, chest rising and falling with unsteady breaths. Leto could imagine he didn’t look much better. His gaping orifice heaved without his action, as if winking at her. There were pains, here and there, from the contact of bodily moisture, but more present was an all-encompassing tranquility that made his body feel pleasantly idle.
“Does it always feel this way?” Leto asked.
“That… was like nothing I’ve ever felt before,” Hwi chuckled. She wiped her brow of some sweat, but mostly smeared it with the slurry of liquid drenching her.
“Be careful about getting any of that fluid in your mouth, Love. If sufficiently spice-saturated, it may kill you.”
“Such power your body has! Spice is part of your very biology.” Hwi said.
Leto turned his large worm body over, eyes fixed on the ceiling of his chamber.
“I must contact the Ixians regarding that device of yours.”
“Not to punish them, surely?”
“No! I must have one sized for myself! On great metal struts, a titanic fuck-machine for this worm-body, one that will rival the Royal Cart in its magnitude!”
Hwi laughed, and then Leto joined her. “I’ve given you an appetite for satisfaction, haven’t I?”
“Yes! Yes, I believe you have. Oh, Hwi!”