Close Encounters 01: of the Fourth Kind

"Yes. Fight me," he demands once more and tightens his grip around my throat just a little, just enough.

My eyes roll up in my head as the next climax roars through me out of nowhere.

While my body is still twitching, something long and lithe slides against the backside of my right thigh and over my right buttock -- his tail, I remember, and shiver as the appendage makes its way to my core as well, seems to wallow in the wetness there and finally, in spite of my weak protests, slips between my cheeks to nudge my sphincter.

All of my muscles are so loose and I am so well lubricated that it slides inside me easily. I can barely manage a hoarse cry at the invasion before it, too, starts to fuck me.

"Not so feisty any more, are you, little human?"

He has not stopped fondling my clit. I feel like I've been hooked up to an electroshock apparatus.

"Please, please," I mouth. I'm hoarse from all that screaming and the open-mouthed gasping for air.

"I will stake your hole now," he tells me, "so no other male will be able to breed you."

Faintly, I wonder what he means, but then his tail and his cock move against each other in a a way that as me almost swallowing my own tongue in agonizing pleasure, and then his hand around my throat gets so tight for a second that the thunder of my heart seems to leap up into my head, and then my pulse explodes there in a shower of sparks, right behind the eyes.

Once more, with feeling, I orgasm all over his big alien cock and bawl like a big baby because it's all I can do any more.

It's just as he said: He doesn't need weapons. His hands and feet and his tail and mouth and his body are more than enough to get me to submit.

I resurface from a shallow nap and find myself lying on the floor like a starfish. I am sticky and damp everywhere, and sopping wet between my legs, and sore all over.

Especially between my legs. I groan as I sit up. Fuck, it feels like he's still inside of me.

A noise from my left makes me turn. There he is, with his back toward me, putting his clothes and armor back on with the methodical precision of a male who usually sleeps in his gear.

"The Kgrotu who sent you to the Dryth table is your keeper," he says, like we're in the middle of a conversation whose beginning I had missed.

Kgrotu. The slug people. My manager. All things considered, 'keeper' is a much nicer word than 'manager' or 'pimp' or 'jailor'.

"Uh, yeah," I croak, just in case this was one more of those statement-questions. God, I need a sip of water.

Bane nods his head. "I will speak to him."

"About wh-?" I begin to ask just as I try to get up on my feet, but freeze mid-movement.

Wait.

A.

Hot second.

I slide my fingers between my legs. When they graze my clit, I whimper. Sore and overly sensitive, poor thing.

When I reach a bit deeper, I draw a shuddering, gasping breath. "What the fuck."

It doesn't feel like he's still inside me.

He is.

And he's still moving.

I half-squat down and feel myself, and clench my still-buzzing pelvic muscles to try and squeeze it out.

It's not coming out, though. All the lube makes it so slippery that I can't get a grip on it. Also, maybe I'm imagining things, but it feels like it's retreating farther into me as I try to catch it.

"Ba—Bane?" I can feel a panic coming on. "Bane, what is this?"

He looks at me over his shoulder. "My spike. I told you I would stake you. It will keep other males from breeding with you and from giving your hole pleasure."

I remember watching his cock and thinking that it looked like a separate being. Never have I ever hated to be right.

"And... how long will this...?" I trail off.

"A turn of the small moons of Ydryth," Bane answers. "That is about ten planetary days on X'lora."

"Ten days," I repeat tonelessly. This cannot be real. I am having a post-coital nightmare. Gonna wake up real soon. "And... and then, what happens?"

"My spike will cease moving and you will be able to remove it." He turns around, hefting one of his knife weapons. "If you were an A'Draht, it would ensure that you were bred and with young."

There are many things I want to say to him. But I'm not a fucking A'Draht! comes to mind, as well as a rather anxious I'm due for my period in five days! That's going to be unsanitary as heck! Something like How the hell am I supposed to move around, work, think, sleep, do anything with your huge cock lodged in my pussy? would also be a very reasonable objection.

Instead what comes out of my mouth is, "Are you out of your fucking mind?"

Several things happen before the sentence is finished.

One, I bolt to my feet and charge at the guy in outrage. I'm not sure to what end. All I know is that I'm angry. This time it's not about Earth -- it's personal.

Two, the detached Dryth penis inside of me squirms and rubs (right there! Right there!) against my G-spot.

Three, the man rushes me and catches first my outstretched hands in one of his huge paws, and then tags me by the back of the neck again with his big hand, holding me like an unruly kitten, forcing me to stand on my tiptoes and to look up at him.

"You fought," he says, breathing into my face, "and you submitted."

This is probably what a cannibal sounds like saying 'I ate your left leg and it was delicious', implying that the right leg would be up tomorrow.

"I have staked you, as is my right," his explanation goes on. "The Krgotu will be compensated. He shall not be your concern."

Oh, of course. Just as long as the guy (male slug thing) is happy, matters are settled. Fucking chauvinist.

"And what about my compensation?" I hiss.

I am fucking indignant. I want to yell at him. But he's close to seven feet tall, his hands are just one twitch away from doing serious damage to my neck or my wrists, and his cock his drumming against me from the inside in a way that makes my abused clit prick and tingle.

His eyes flare and the tip of his tail slithers up and goes between my legs. The blunt tip flicks my clit. I bite my lip.

"You will be well-sated these ten days, little human," he promises as the tail checks in on his 'spike', pushing against it gently, probing around the seam of it. "And when they are over, I will long since have grown a new spike. You will see."

My eyes go wide. He's going to come back? In ten days? With—With his new penis?

Fuck, that's another one of those things that should bother me and shouldn't turn me on, right?

The corners of his mouth twitch into a smile. He knows. Hell, he can probably feel my wrung-out muscles tremble in anticipation, what with his tail tip right there.

For a long moment he considers my face. My mouth, especially, and I can almost hear his thoughts. A new wave of sweat breaks out on my forehead.

"Perhaps I will be back sooner than that," he confides and slides his tail out from between my legs, lifts it to his mouth and licks my juice off it. The glimpse I get of his tongue should also not be half as enticing as it is. It's difficult to pull my eyes off of it and redirect it to his eyes but I somehow manage.

"And then what?" I ask dumbly. My brain goes 'oral and anal, duh!'

"Then we may examine whether your little human hole craves a double spike," he answers and abruptly lets me go.

I crumple to the floor because my knees have gone on strike.

Two at once. No fucking way.

Then again, just an hour and a half ago I would have said the same about rendering services to a Dryth, and about being bodily tossed about by a mean alien, and about cock/tail double penetration.

"Eat. Sleep. Rest," he tells me as he turns away from me and makes his way to the door. "You will need all your strength when I return, Ree."

And then he's gone and I'm still sitting on the floor, hair a mess, skin chafed and bruised, and dripping.

And smiling like a madwoman.

Because he called me Ree, and because I am breathing. I am breathing hard.

FIN

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Hello!

Congratulations! You made it all the way through this weird, weird story! I hope you liked it even though it was quite bonkers.

Thanks for reading! Leave a comment, make my day. xo cydia

P.S.: Pronunciation guide for the curious: 'Dryth' sounds almost like 'drift' and 'drahta' rhymes with 'martyr' in a posh London accent, 'Vurn' rhymes with 'burn' and 'X'lora' is the pretentious spelling of 'Silora'. 'Kgrotu' is the sound of someone spitting out broken teeth, and Bane's full name is what happens when a cat walks across your keyboard. Hope that helped!