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Digital Gaga

By Ashlyn Selvatico

Copyright 2017 Ashlyn Selvatico

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is intended for adult audiences only. It contains sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. All sexual activity in this work is consensual and all participants are 18 years of age or older.

On the champion's red trapeze, the Gaga master tumbles and spins. His name is Hafnon 33 Blue. His dark, exquisite skin is mottled with the chalky resin of the Boneyard Spinifex. This is the costume of the Asharakuur, the Levanian acrobat. Taka! He soars over the Arena! Uu-surim! He kicks and climbs!

Below, the crowd sings: The steam of his flesh! The swelling of his chest! The proud twitch of his stiffening Siris!

Levanian songs are never obscene. However, sometimes they are deliciously anatomical.

More spectators are pouring into the small arena. Moist, alien flesh floods the galleries, pressing Moon and I to the front. We're trapped against the safety rail, at the edge of a black pit. If the rail holds, I'll be crushed. If it fails, I will fall into that pit forever.

Fear is pleasure. This is my religion. Every neuron is awake, and humming with bliss.

The rail holds. The terror passes, but the thrill remains. The crowd cannot trample me. The crowd is in love with me, and I am in love with the crowd.

I am the crowd.

Intimacy breeds equality. Social distinctions dissolve. Barefoot administrators in scaly black leotards jostle and sweat with fishnet covered engineers and naked immerseels. Like me.

Someone begins a new song. More voices join in, while the old tune shudders on. The two melodies are in the same key and tempo- now in harmony, now in dissonance. Champion and challenger. I look up, and I spot the second acrobat, on the far side of the arena.

He steps aboard a black trapeze and glides into view. His movements are quick and efficient. Natron 4 isn't the sort to waste energy grandstanding. He must be at least sixty. He has become a little stocky with age, but he is still beautiful. I adore his hairless, alien physique. Damn the Levanian ban on photography. I'll never know what the man looked like in his prime.

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