Galaxy A-Go-Go

It was his own mother's milk. He remembered the taste distinctly from when he'd suckled as an infant. He opened his mouth and drank whatever ran into it.

The breasts started to shrink, milk still dripping down from them. Even as they became grapes, a single drip drip of sustenance fell from each on. He could feel the waste milk run off each part of his body down to his hips.

"You ready to fuck, big boy?" she said. "My milk will make your seed strong."

Then he saw it. It started to extend from between her legs. It was a tube the size of three soda cans placed end to end. Easily triple the size of his own penis. It had the same almost tribal marking he'd seen around her vagina. He'd gotten it all wrong, he realized, but it didn't matter. If she wanted to fuck him and pump him full of her own babies, he'd happily bear a brood a hundred strong for her.

Suddenly the organ shot forward, its coin slot enclosing his own penis. It felt almost exactly like a pussy -- the tightest he'd ever violated. Her distended vagina started pumping up and down like a piston. He could see now that it seemed to be made of two parts underneath the flesh, an inner and outer ring. As one slammed down the other rose, giving him two seconds of intense pleasure followed by two seconds of release. He tried bucking his hips to meet its thrusts, but it only seemed to lessen the effect so he lay back and enjoyed it.

No, that was right. Everything was as it should be even when it was so confusing. He was the man after all. It was his job to fill her up and then to nourish her and then it would all be over.

It was a strange, disassociated feeling. Apart from the vagina his body was is no contact at all with the rest of her body, ignoring his tentacle bed which now felt separate. It was impossible to achieve such an effect with a human woman. You would always be in contact with inner thighs, or buttocks and most common positions would have flesh in all areas pressed together. In that respect it felt more like a blow-job. A homo sapiens blow-job rather than whatever had been happening with her tongue just now. You laid back and let the lady do all the work. She really was taking very good care of him.

He was just starting to really relax when a viscous clear fluid started leaking from the tube. It quickly spread to his thighs and ran down his testicles. It seemed to numb each part it touched. The piston cunt slowed to a snail's pace, but still kept his cock in place.

"I should warn you," said Vivianta. "Some species find the next part a little odd. Just relax you'll be okay."

No sooner had she said that then he saw the spiders. Their bodies were about the size of a golf ball and their legs were much as human fingers, except covered with fur. They were crawling slowly down each side of her tube. Even in his heightened state, he felt deep terror. He involuntarily twisted, trying to break away from his lover, but she would not release his cock. She put a finger to her mouth and gave him a gentle shush. Subtly the sides of his hammock shifted and rose so it was now more of a net.

"Don't struggle. The numbing agent only lasts a few seconds and it really will hurt if the helper spiders are delayed. Trust me - it looks worse than it feels. Although of course to me the visuals of this next bit are actually really hot."

Of course, she was wise. Even with the natural anaesthetic he still felt the spiders crawl across his ballsack. He saw the fangs descend from the base of the spiders body, but it was true -- he hardly felt anything. Having sunk their teeth in, the spiders settled down, cupping his balls with their legs. A few seconds later and when feeling returned, it was like having a cat sat on his naked lap. There was only the most minor aches from their bites. He felt grateful that his mistress was now a part of him.

The piston pussy started up again, pumping at an insane number of horse-power. Vivianta put her arms down, through the slots of her own tentacle weave and around him. She slowly lifted his back up with both hands and tongues. She inflated her chest to a generous but still human size. Her middle tongue came out from her mouth again and wrapped it round his own again, just as she had done when they had 'made out' at the beginning of the session. As if she had read his mind from earlier, they were now pressing flesh. She was now looking into his eyes will passion. They could not kiss properly like this, but she tilted her head forward and gently rubbed her nose against his.

"You will cum four times, starting when I say so," she commanded.

Fisher nodded. He was still vaguely aware that humans didn't work that way, but if she said it would be so, it would be so.

She said nothing but held him and fucked him for another minute straight.

"Now," she said simply.

The spiders tightened their grip on his balls, digging their teeth further in, and at once his cock exploded. Normally, much as any man, he would spurt three maybe four times with the lion share of the semen in the initial wad. This time, his orgasm shook his body eight times, and each time he could feel more and more spunk flowing into her. The piston matched his orgasm perfectly contracting to meet each fresh deposit and then rippling upwards to push forth any lingering in his pipes.

He sank back down into his bed of tentacles, his moment subsiding, but he found he was still in heaven and nor was he out of her. Instead his erection felt eternal. The piston gathered speed again and suddenly he was spurting again, no less intense and no less voluminous than he had the first time. The pattern was a thirty-second orgasm followed by a thirty-second lull. He came a third and a fourth time like clockwork when she commanded.

Only when he felt himself floating downwards to the bed did he realize it was over. She deposited him in standing position and his legs immediately collapsed under him.

"Easy there," she said, helping him up. "Sorry, I should have given you a moment longer."

A look suddenly came over her face and then she started to dry heave. Three times her ribcage shook and she put her hands to her side and massaged it. He went to help her but she shooed him away. "Just a second," she said. "Nearly done." After the third one she suddenly perked up and gave him a smile.

"Okay, Balaxians finish this part of their love making by the man kissing the woman on the nose," she said.

He titled her head up and gave her a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose. "There," he said.

"No, no," she said annoyed. "You should, what do you call it? French kiss my nose. With passion and duration."

After everything he'd been through, this was the most normal request in the world. He wrapped his lips around her nose and started tonguing around the top. His hands were around her head and hers were around his. That all three of her tongues were fully retracted, did make it feel like they'd reached some kind of conclusion.

"That's nice," she said. "I could get used to it."

Then she sneezed.

Rivers of liquid poured from her nostrils. Although Fisher wouldn't ever admit to having tasted it before, he knew immediately what it was.

It was his own semen.

With just a hint of strawberries behind it.

He thought about pulling away or spitting out, but he knew that she would only berate him and hold his head in place. Instead he let it gush down his throat. The sensations earlier had been quite correct. He'd produced a prodigious amount.

Eventually they parted mouths.

"If you were a Balaxian male you'd now be pregnant with your own children," she explained.

Service over she was suddenly all business-like. "Right, we hibernate after sex so I've got about another thirty seconds before I involuntarily fall asleep for the next four days. But you can see yourself out."

She pulled on her shorts and her coat quickly and threw his clothes at him from their pile on the bed. She sat crosslegged and touched a couple of buttons on the control panel on the side of the bed and there was suddenly a shimmering from around it.

"I've rung for Arp. He'll be up in a moment. No offense, but there's now a forcefield around me which will give you a nasty shock if you attempt to tamper with it in anyway. If you're passing through Grangesian again and I happened to be in my heat cycle, look me up. Your friends have my number."

"Sure, will do," said Fisher, numb. No sooner were the words out of his mouth, than Vivianta fell collapsed unconscious on the bed.

He stood there for an indeterminate amount of time, watching her face behind the waves of the translucent orange shield wall.

The door to the motel room opened and suddenly Arp the squid was standing behind him.

"This way, sir."

Fished didn't move. The squid put two friendly tentacles around him and handed him his pants and shirt with two others.

"I know how you feel, but time is up. I'd knock the spiders off before you put your trousers back on. They should be dead now. Then I'll see you over the road to your friends."

Fisher followed the instructions and let himself be guided outside and over to the bar. He found Barnett and Strumm right where they'd said they'd be, at the pool table. Susia and the other human girl were there, also with a cue in hand. Even though each team had stakes put down on each the side of the pool table, they immediately abandoned the game and came over to him. The girls had been far enough ahead that they picked up the defaulted winnings without asking. The squid manoeuvred Fisher into the chair and then took his leave.

"How was it?" asked Strumm.

Fisher stared at him blankly, barely able to process the question. His hair was still soaked with milk and there were still lights flashing across his eyes.

"That good, huh?" said Strumm.

What happened on shore leave stayed on the planet. That was a given. His companions for this evening might casually tip the nod to the rest of the shift that 'Fisher had a Balaxian on Grangesia' and the other crew members would know what that meant and that he'd undergone a proud right of passage. They might even photocopy some of the more insightful passages from volume 47 of P'Tol'sReproductive Xenobiology and pin them up around his cabin for him to read in the morning when he was feeling more like himself. Other than that they'd never bring it up again. After all, he was now a real man in their eyes.

The incident two weeks later on Trinary Baleth when he was so far off his tits that he mistook a Vansulian stripper for his mother? That, they would mention.