Erotic Adventures of an Alien Captive, 1

The Erotic Adventures of an Alien Captive:

Taken

Part 1


Shaye Marlow

Copyright © 2014 by Shaye Marlow

All Rights Reserved


This story is a work of fiction.  All of the characters, aliens, places, and events in this book are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to real people, aliens, places, or events is entirely coincidental.

Warning

This story contains material which may be objectionable to some readers.  This includes graphic language and explicit sexual content, specifically menage (m/m/f), anal play/intercourse, and mild bondage/discipline.  Ages 18+.


Foreword

I read erotic, paranormal, and sci-fi/fantasy romance.  Lots of it.  I finally got tired of reading books anxious for the sex scene, sometimes strung along on nothing but sexual tension, only to be disappointed, either by the lack or undiluted crappiness of said scene.  I’ve thrown books across the room for this reason.  So, the way I figure it, there’ve gotta be people out there like me.  I’ve written this little series for you.  And if this isn’t you, well, I hope you enjoy the story, and the sex, anyway.



Part 1: Taken

The morning I took an alien tranq dart in the neck started with a wet dream.  I writhed in pleasure with a nameless jock’s face buried deep between my thighs.

My alarm shrieked right as I was teetering at the brink of orgasm.  Disoriented, I clawed my way awake and slapped it off.  Then I lay panting, heart thumping, arousal and adrenaline burning in equal parts through my veins.  That nerve-grating sound had terrorized me at the exact same time each morning for the last mind-numbing eleven months.  And that’s not even counting the four year-long Ship Monitor shifts I’d already completed.

For the skeleton crew awake to man the colonist ship Mayfair bound for Anthem 3, mornings always fucking sucked.  The loss of my orgasm was actually kind of expected.

I finally made the decision not to rub one out, and rolled out of bed.

It was the same routine every morning.  I dragged myself into my black, standard-issue flight suit.  I ghosted down the stark halls, the same motion-activated lights verifying my miserable existence as I passed.  The mess hall, same as usual, was quiet and empty.

My morning graduated from bad to worse as the same stale coffee crawled into my cup after the same interminable hesitation of the same flickering, broke-ass button.

First thing I planned on doing once we got to Anthem 3 was open a Starbucks.  Well, maybe the second.  The first was orgasms with another person’s participation.  Orgasms in the Starbucks, while sucking down a Grande Mocha Frappuccino with whip and chocolate drizzle…  I let myself imagine that, only for the thousandth time.

Hello, my name is Morgana Sollars, and I’ve spent 1,795 days damn short on chocolate, and utterly without a man.

To add a bit of variety to this particular bad morning, I chose a coconut meal bar.  Chasing the cardboard-flavored hunk of protein with a scorching gulp of weak, bitter, mechanized crap, I trudged to the bridge to begin my system-checks.

The ship’s computer was programmed to manage the United Earth Congress colony’s transit to Anthem 3 automatically.  Unfortunately, bugs and hardware failure were a fact of life for the grunts whom had convinced themselves that years of isolated travel without even a battery operated boyfriend was somehow a viable career choice.  Yeah, I was one of those.

Sadly, it wasn’t complete isolation.  The other three ladies who’d taken shifts making my life hell in the past eleven months were either asleep or enjoying free time, braiding hair or sharpening their nails or whatever bullshit they could come up with to pass the time.  They hadn’t dealt me any serious offense, unless I counted their lack of Y chromosomes.  The minor offenses included hoarding the coveted chocolate chunk meal bars, breaking that damn button, and ‘misplacing’ my music so the gym was permanently ‘rocked’ by 20th Century ‘hits’.  The sneaky, tasteless cunts.

I dropped into the hard, military-issue chair before the command console and choked down the rest of my caffeine-bearing affliction.  No alarms, no blinking red lights.  Good.

I glanced at date and time, numbers that told me when to sleep, when to eat, and how long until we landed at the colony.  We were traveling near the speed of light, and we had about four light-years still to travel, but the last of my five year-long shifts as Ship Monitor ended in less than a month.  The rest of the time would pass in a blink, with me blessedly unconscious, suspended in cryo.  Thank fucking Jesus.

Did I mention I hate my job?  I’d always wanted to go into space, to explore new worlds, but I wasn’t NASA material, and I hadn’t qualified for a colonist slot.  The 248 icicles in the berth were well-educated people, doctors, botanists, mechanical engineers, things along those lines.  I’d applied and had been rejected a few times—seriously, how educated do you have to be to hunt, gather, and make babies?—before I found my opportunity in the Space Force.

I was excellent at flattening things with an iron, a crack shot with a laser pistol, and I gradually improved at keeping my mouth shut when people were barking stupid orders in my face.  I eventually made Captain.  Sadly, my rank is more in line with Earth military Corporal than with “Aye aye, Captain”.

According to the starmap, we were officially beyond what had been the edge of explored space before our departure almost thirty years ago.  Once they found Anthem 3, a lush, tropical planet with atmospheric gasses and temperatures perfect for human occupation, the Bureau of Civilization Expansion had moved fast to colonize.  From the high-res pictures they took, Anthem 3 looked like an artist’s rendition of Eden.  It was a Goldilocks planet to beat all Goldilocks planets, and it was the perfect photo-op for golden Colonist Ship #50.

There was nothing golden about the current view out the forward window.  It showed an unremitting blackness streaked with the occasional star.  The view had been pretty much the same for--you guessed it--the past eleven months, as well as the four shift-years before that. Captain’s Log, Stardate 15013.1, I thought.  This morning I was robbed of an orgasm, and oh look! Another star!  My pithy inner monologue had degraded with my mental state in the months without decent company.  I was also halfway through Star Trek: Next Generation, for the fifth time.

Next up, I checked on the colonists.  Sleeping like milk-drunk babies, still snuggled deep in cryo.  Today, like most days, I wandered the aisles of cryo pods, pausing here and there to appraise the goods.  Eventually I’d have to settle down with one of these guys; I wanted a head start on the partner-picking.  It was practically my duty to go window shopping.

Here, too, the view hadn’t changed much with passing time.  The guy at the end of row four was still smokin’ hot.  Tall, clean-cut, strong jaw, thick hair frozen into a sexy tousle.  Despite the education he doubtless had—aerospace engineer, read his inscription—he looked like fun.  But there was something wicked about the one with the muscles and shaved head center-back—general contractor—with a hint of a tattoo teasing me from under his collar…  What I really wanted to do was liberate one of them from his pod, cart him back to my place, and help warm him up.  Call it a trial run.  If the sex wasn’t out-of-this-world—heh—I’d just put him back.

One more month, Morgana.  Resisting the siren song of the emergency de-ice buttons yet again, I flicked on the lights and music in the ship’s gym.  I’d been working out religiously every morning of my year-long shift.  My position as Colonist Protection Specialist required a certain level of physical fitness.  Beyond that, the fleeting endorphin highs kept me from going off the deep end a la The Shining set in space—Captain’s Log, Stardate 15013.1:  This morning I went after three crazy bitches with an axe—while my aching muscles reminded me throughout the ‘day’ that I hadn’t died and gone to Hell.

My last assignment hitching a ride back to Central on a civvie freighter hadn’t required ship monitor shifts even half as long.  Plus, it had been blessed with a mixed-gender crew.  I pressed my thighs together, remembering the ship mechanic’s talented tongue, then powered through a few dozen reps to take my mind off my now burning, terribly neglected pussy.  I swear it felt like that place where no man had gone before.

It was as I was doing a gazillion lust-fueled crunches that something odd happened.

The wall to my right melted silently away.  I wouldn’t have noticed except that whatever was on the other side of this new portal glowed with incredible brightness, washing the gym in sudden light.

The fuck?  I caught sight of the portal and scrambled upright.

I felt a sharp sting in my neck and stumbled a few steps.  My vision wavered.  The ‘80s synthesizer abusing the speakers slowed, distorted.  Through the growing darkness, I saw a large silhouette moving forward from the light, and then the cushioned rubber floor rushed up to meet me.

***

I woke up gradually.  Hearing came first.  The gentle babble of running water.  Then sensation.  I was on something firm yet tensile.  My fingers curled around what felt and smelled like...grass.

Finally, vision.  It was grass.  And beyond it, a brook.  I sat up and looked around.  Enormous trees made a cavern of branches above me, filtering the mid-afternoon sun that shone down in bands of dancing light.  The gentle melody of birdsong reached my ears.

Was I dreaming?  If so, I’d never had a dream so real.  Not without some sort of mind-altering substance…

I rubbed at my forehead.  My head hurt.  And so did a little spot on my neck...  Oh.

I remembered the coffee, the workout, the wall, the light, the dart.

So I had either been given a powerful psychedelic or put in a grotto.  I felt clear and sharp, so was leaning toward the grotto.

Either way, I refused to freak out.  I took some nice, long, slow breaths.

Okay, so a grotto.  Why?  And where?  And what had been done with the other crew members?  Were they still peacefully asleep or here, with me?

I listened.  No sounds of civilization.  And for that matter, no scream of blow-dryers or whine of celibate women.  So, not here with me.

I climbed to my feet, now appreciating the familiar hug of my every-day Space Force jumpsuit.  Fortunately, my shirt was not red.  Unfortunately, I do not wear my weapon belt while working out.

I was on a gentle slope overlooking a deep green valley.  There was nothing keeping me in this particular spot, so I began to walk.  I moved at a good clip over the grass and past the trees.

Very suddenly, I slammed into a wall.  A wall in apparently thin air.

“The hell?”  I stumbled back, clutching my throbbing nose.  I stared at the empty space that had just assaulted me.  I saw nothing that I could have walked into, not the barest reflection of glass, nothing.  Tentatively, I raised my hand.  Sure enough, my fingers encountered an invisible barrier.  It was definitely a wall, felt like cool metal if I had to guess.  But my eyes told me there was nothing under my hand, with more trees just a few feet away in the distance.

I felt around in what was quickly revealing itself to be an enclosure.  Six walls—I had to count twice because it was a number I was not expecting—no door.  What those walls contained seemed real enough.  The tree bark was rough, the trunks solid.  The dirt... I fished a flattish stone out of the creek to dig a hole.  A foot of nice dark topsoil, and then my rock clanged against metal.  I tossed the stone aside and scraped the rest away with my hands to reveal some chillingly odd metal grating.

Okay, I was starting to get unnerved.  I left the rock where it lay and felt around the wall at either end of the creek.  No inlet, no outlet.  Just water flowing seamlessly from and into the invisible barrier with an illusion that it continued at either end.  That just wasn’t possible.  Not with our current technology.  Hell, not with technology based on our current rules of science.

I refused to think about that one too hard.

Finding a big tree with thick lower limbs, I started to climb.  About fifteen feet up, I hit the ceiling.  There was no indication of an end, but suddenly my head knocked against that same invisible barrier and I had nowhere else to climb.  I slid back to the ground in disgust.

I was in a prison.  Someone or something had taken me straight off my ship, tranquilized me like a wild animal, and put me in a weird room which seamlessly combined real features with some amazing holographic technology. We had space-travel, yes, but there were some things that were still beyond humanity in general.

And would there be any other humans out in this sector of space, this brand-new, just-barely-charted area?  And even if there were, what deranged organization would detain me in a holographic paradise when a cold, unfurnished cell would do?

Which got me, finally, thinking about aliens.

Humans had only encountered one other species since launching into space.  The Quidaar were actually laughably like the Ferengi, about four feet tall with big ears and a soul-deep hunger for wealth.  Their supreme yen for cash had them poking into every teeny, tiny corner of the universe seeking new ways to make profit.  We had safe, reliable, fast-as-light travel starting in 2048, thanks to them.  Yeah, that one had cost us.

Notably, though, even their map of the known universe hadn’t included Anthem 3.  Maybe someone back at command should have taken a hint from the fact the Quidaar refused to come within ten light-years of the big, blank corner of their maps they called the Maraaxal Zone.  Instead, we’d laughed it off and blamed their reticence on superstition.

Humans can be so stupid.

Suddenly, one of the invisible walls of my enclosure melted.  And from the dimness beyond, in stepped...  well, he wasn’t human.

Holy shit, an alien.  And definitely not Quidaari.  My heart rate shot through the roof.

He was humanoid-shaped, and around my height, but that’s where the similarities ended.  His skin was a deep, dusky blue.  Though he walked upright, the slope of his face and the grace and lightness of his gait seemed faintly feline.  He had no hair on his head—strike that, it was covered by a very fine coat of blue fur—and he wore a uniform of charcoal grey.

The blue cat-man carried a tray of what I thought might be food.  With a quick glance at me, large eyes flashing yellow in the sunlight, he set it down.  Then he turned and slunk back out the door, which became forest again behind him.

As soon as he was out of sight, I ran to the ‘door’, felt around for a break in the seal, a frame, anything—there was none—then marked it in the dirt with my foot.

And, once I was sure there was nothing more I could do but wait, yes, I ate the food.  So sue me, my body had been over-throttled on adrenaline for a couple hours now, and I was famished.  It was a bowl of gruel-like purple mash garnished with chunks of fruit in strange colors, some of which burned on the way down.  The overall smell was rabbit pellets and engine grease, but it still tasted about a hundred times better than that coconut meal bar.  I scooped the gaudy mess into my mouth with my fingers, since they hadn’t seen fit to give me any utensils.

I licked the bowl clean, then found a darkened corner of the ‘forest’ to relieve myself.  This bastard kidnapping race of blue aliens didn’t even have the decency to provide me with basic amenities.

I passed my time trying not to think too closely about my predicament.  Even so, my mind ran wild with the possibilities as to why I’d been captured.  Vivisection and anal probing were the least of them.

A few long, anxiety-ridden hours later, again entered the blue man with another tray.

I bashed him on the head with my rock.  Then, ducking from behind the bush I’d propped up next to my mark in the dirt, I shot out the door.

I got only a few strides out of my prison before I slammed into something large and solid.  I sucked in a startled breath. 

And that’s when my body betrayed me.  Between one breath and the next, for absolutely no apparent reason, I was completely, totally, utterly aroused.  Face flushed, nipples tight, pussy sodden, dripping wet and tormentingly empty.

I stumbled back, looking up at the mountain of a man that had arrested my flight.  He was blue-skinned, humanoid and uniformed like the other, but he was huge.  He had legs like tree trunks and a chest as broad as the hood of a car.  He also had hair that would have made My Little Pony prance.  A shimmering cascade of lavender started in an aggressive widow’s peak on his forehead and poured over a massive shoulder in a thick, waist-length purple mane.  Legs braced apart and arms crossed, he studied me with brilliant green cat-eyes.

Purple’s nostrils flared.  Then his face darkened as those eyes zeroed in on me like hungry lasers.  Okay, maybe the My Little Pony comparison was inappropriate.  His pose tightened, causing his uniform to stretch across a hilly landscape of rock-hard muscle.

It also strained across a massive bulge growing behind the dark material over his crotch.

I gulped.  My heart thundered in my chest even as the ache between my thighs intensified. My body wanted him, badly.  It strained forward as though it had a will of its own—which made me, the passenger, damned uncomfortable.

Yeah, I hadn’t gotten any in almost five years, but that wouldn’t account for a wildfire reaction like this.  Whatever this was, whatever he was trying to do with his creepy alien technology, I would resist!  I squared my shoulders and glared defiantly up at him.

If anything, he looked even more interested.  He took a step toward me, looming in my personal space.  He smelled, well, alien, but at the same time heady and amazing and overall male.  It had been so long…

My body, the impetuous bitch, screamed Jump him!

So I dodged around him and fled.  The hall was wide and purple-grey, though I was moving too fast to absorb details.  The metal grating clanged beneath my pounding steps.

Behind me, Purple yelled.  Some smaller blues turned to look.  I dodged the one with what looked like a cattle prod, and rammed another aside with a well-placed shoulder.  I couldn’t understand the words, but it sounded like Purple was shouting orders.

Whatever they planned, they’d have to catch me first.

I didn’t know how to operate these melting doorways, or even find them, but a blue guy stepped through the one at the end of the hall, leaving me just enough time and room to slip past him.

The big man roared.

I shot through the halls, widening my lead.  Must get away, my inner monologue chanted.  After that, I didn’t really have a plan.  I was running on blind instinct with a side of terror, evading hands that thrust out to grab me, striving only to escape.

I ran into what turned out to be a large supply room.  A few crates lay piled in the middle of the floor.  Only one door, the one I’d just pelted through.

A dead end!

I spun, ready to slip back out, but he was there.  My personal roadblock, filling the doorway.  He said something to the smaller blues behind him, then ducked into the room.  They stayed put, guarding the portal.

Purple walked forward slowly, hands held out at his sides.  He started talking in a low, soothing voice.  It was gibberish to me, but beautiful, arresting gibberish.  Think purring German in a rumbling voice deeper and more mysterious than the Mariana Trench.  The sound caressed my eardrums and vibrated its way straight to my long-dormant pussy.

Gritting my teeth, I tamped down my response.

I put the crates between us.  He edged left, I edged right.  More soothing sounds.

Not gonna work on me, bud.

He lunged, grabbed at me, got a fold of my jumpsuit.  I threw myself aside, twisted free.  We continued to circle.  He really was ridiculously hot, especially in that uniform.

He barked a couple words to the other blue guys, who ranged out behind him.  Like a search party, they swept toward me.

I glowered at him.  “Cheater.”

His eyes lit up, but then I had two henchmen on me, dragging me to the ground.  I kicked and fought, but they efficiently restrained me.

The whole way back to my enclosure, Purple’s eyes burned into my back.

***

Lirich let himself into the control room, looking to visit his friend.  He paused just inside the door, immediately straightening into a more formal mindset as he realized he’d interrupted a meeting.

Two Rah reclined on air near Achnil, who was busy manipulating the console in front of him.  All three were silent, as the Rah were doubtlessly speaking directly into Achnil’s mind.  Telepathy was just one of the Rah’s various mental abilities.

These two were classic physical examples of their species.  They were slight of form, short, with fine, pale skin, eyes in shades of purple, and clean-shaven heads.  They both wore unreadable expressions and white robes that draped around their slender, folded legs.  The Rah were almost impossible to tell apart, but he felt sure one of them was Oth. 

Rah literally meant Overlord.  Oth owned them, the ship, and everything in it.  He was a collector of rare species who only occasionally ventured from his home planet, where he kept a harem of exotic pleasure-slaves whose population rivaled that of a small town. 

Lirich wondered what Oth thought of their latest prize, the lively female in cell 231B, or if he’d had a chance to observe her yet.

Maybe he’d been wondering too loudly, because the Rah who was not Oth looked over at him.  His purple eyes did not blink, just stared.

Lirich banked his emotions and cleared his mind, a self-defense mechanism developed from a lifetime of dealing with Overlords.  Even if a Rah didn’t overhear something immediately incriminating, it was considered rude for slaves to broadcast their crude and trivial thoughts.  And a Rah would be well within his rights to kill a slave over such a minor slight.

Lirich stood at attention, silent and still. 

After a few minutes, the meeting was adjourned.  Oth, silent as ever, swiveled and drifted through the door.  His look-alike buddy followed after, not quite managing Oth’s level of silent distain as he glanced once more at Lirich on his way out.

Lirich winked at him, enjoying the way his purple eyes widened slightly.  He never had been able to resist teasing the young ones.

Then the Rah were out of the room, the psy-dampening damasqine wall sliding shut behind them.

Lirich dropped into his favorite friend-visiting chair and swiveled it around.

Achnil lifted a brow.  “One month until we’re free and you’re provoking them?”  He sounded mildly irritated and not at all surprised.  Throughout their years of friendship, Achnil had become intimately familiar with Lirich’s flagrant lack of impulse control.

Lirich leaned back in his chair, grinning.  “So I winked at the little guy.  What are they gonna do?  Pummel my shins with their tiny fists?”  Actually, their psychic abilities usually included telekinesis—which they used to float rather than lowering themselves to use their legs for personal locomotion—and a passably gifted telekinetic could easily rend a man limb from limb.

Achnil’s mouth twitched.  At least his friend and technically commanding officer had a sense of humor.  Otherwise he might have been unbearable.  As it was, he was arrogant, overbearing, and almost funereal in his pragmatism.

“So, new collection orders?” Lirich asked.  Only a potential new acquisition could make Oth come out of the woodwork.

Achnil nodded.  “One of Oth’s friends has found a rare species of pygmy tarq on the sixth moon of Irlinth.  So, of course Oth wants one.  He says they are bright pink, aggressively carnivorous, can jump great distances, have five rows of teeth, and kill on sight.”

Lirich’s grin widened.  He was in charge of ops, which meant he organized the actual collecting.  He imagined himself for a brief moment hunting tiny, vicious jumping beasts.  Sounded like a pain in the ass.  Maybe he’d send the new recruits instead.

Last batch of recruits before retirement, he reminded himself with glee.  Achnil and he were due to “retire” in less than a month, as in, their term of indentured servitude would be over.  They would be free from under the thumb of their Overlord, free as they hadn’t been even as children.

They’d been discussing what to do after.  Mercenaries, perhaps?  Border patrol on some contested moon?  Or maybe go into rare species collection for themselves.  Arenas were always buying, and they definitely had the proper skill set.  Achnil piloted a starship as though born to it, and Lirich was great at hurting people.

He rubbed a sore spot on his side.  Though, Achnil wasn’t too bad at that either, the sneaky bastard.

Achnil tapped away at his console.  “How’s our newest oddity?” he asked.

Lirich leaned forward in his chair.  Just what he’d been wanting to discuss, without the added suspicion of bringing the subject up first.  “She,” he said, “is very interesting.”

His friend looked up, his eyes narrowed.  “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Lirich protested.  “Why do you always assume the worst?  I just happened to be outside her enclosure when she tried to escape.  She beat your guy over the head with a rock and made a run for it.  I stopped her and saved both our asses.  You should be thanking me.”

“You just happened to be outside.”

“Absolutely,” Lirich lied.  He’d actually been hovering around 231B for several hours, trying to catch a glimpse of what the handlers had all been whispering about.  And, for once, they hadn’t exaggerated.  “She’s amazing.  I have never seen nor smelled anything so mouth-watering in my entire life.”

Achnil took a deep breath.  “I’m hoping you mean mouth-watering like a premium cut of Reen steak.”

Lirich rolled his eyes.  “No.  Mouthwatering like a woman I’d like to bend over and fuck.  I think she might be wearing some sort of aphrodisiac perfume.  She has a very strong effect.”

“So, what you are really saying is:  The alien in 231B gave you a hard-on.”  The disgust in Achnil’s voice was as thick as if Lirich had told him he’d been caught jerking off to Kedasti rock-blubber.  Nasty perversion, that.  And it had just been the once.

This was exactly why he never tried for command for himself.  The stiffs at the top never had any fun.

“More like she made me so hard I almost came in my pants,” Lirich clarified bluntly.  “She’s kinda pale and skinny, but her looks grow on you—”

“Lirich,” his friend interrupted.  “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“But she’s—”

“Stay away from her.  She belongs to Oth.  You know how he is about his creatures.”

Lirich wrestled with the urge to punch his pragmatic friend in the face.  In an epic fit of perseverance, he controlled himself.  He’d get him later, when they were off duty.  It was poor form to sock your commanding officer in the mouth and make him bleed.  Your friend, though...

Lirich planned to kick his ass, right after he got a closer look at the exotic chick in cell 231B.

***

The light in my enclosure had darkened into evening when Purple brought my next meal.  Immediately upon seeing him through the melted doorway, I moved away to the back edge of my prison.  Small ones I felt comfortable nailing with rocks.  This one could kill me bare-handed.  Probably with just one of those hams.

He ducked through the opening, reminding me again of how damn big he was, and came forward onto the grass, his gaze locked on me.  He moved as gracefully as the smaller ones, but with a lot more power propelling all of that mass.  He slowly crouched and set the tray down, a move that put his head at chest level.

Then he stayed there, watching me.

Danger Will Robinson!  I shifted farther away along the wall, acutely aware of the odd technology he’d used on me at our first encounter, turning me into some sort of desperate, sex-starved slut.

Which I was, kind of, lately.  But never mind that.  I was sure he was making it worse, somehow.

He nudged the tray toward me and held out his hand, palm-up and empty, beckoning.  Then he added that voice, whiskey smooth, melodious, and coaxing.

He’s trying to lure me in, was my first thought.  Then: What kind of idiot does he think I am?

Honestly, though, I was torn.  The invisible cloud of ultimate appeal that he carried around with him and that had nearly drawn me in earlier was already tickling my pink parts pinker.  Again, my body knew exactly what it wanted, was even then preparing itself for him.  But my mind distrusted this animal attraction that he held for me.

I’m his prisoner!  I told my body, trying to talk some sense into the horny bitch.  I had never pegged myself as the type to develop a case of Stockholm Syndrome.  Obviously, the aliens were using some sort of aphrodisiac on me.

But my desire only grew, and now my mind was joining in the party.  I wanted those big hands squeezing my breasts.  I wanted fistfuls of that long cotton-candy hair.  I hungered for what promised to be a massive cock.

Wow.  I really needed to get laid more often than once every five years.  Note to self.

I licked my lips, finding my eyes glued again to the growing bulge at the apex of his thighs.  Yeah, he wasn’t my species.  But there was something about him that triggered raw desire unlike anything I’d ever experienced.  I feverishly imagined the things I wanted to do, could do, to this willing hunk of manmeat.  It was these thoughts that ravaged my self-control. 

To my vague distress, my body took a step toward him.  Then, another.

No, dammit!  I was a Captain with the Collaborative Space Force.  I could resist!  With superhuman effort, I rooted my feet to the ground.  The moment I stopped moving toward him, the ache between my thighs started growing exponentially with every pounding beat of my heart.  I wanted his big, hard body pressed tight against mine.  I wanted—no, needed—to feel all that raw strength over me, his heat, his powerful hips flexing between my thighs.

I was no fool.  At this rate, I knew it was only a matter of time before I was drawn to him.  Resistance was futile.

But if I was going down the sexual rabbit hole with an alien from outer space, I could at least do it with panache.  I was absolutely unwilling to fall at his feet begging.  Men begged me.

With that thought in mind—I swear it made sense at the time—I reached up, gripped the zipper holding my uniform together, and pulled.  It slithered down, and down… and down. Cool air brushed my nipples.  Take that, big boy.

He stared as though hypnotized.  The heat in his gaze should have set the air on fire.

Looking him straight in the eye, I cupped my bare breasts and dared him to come and get me.

He broke.  He came at me like a bull and tackled me to the ground.  I sprawled under him, dazed by his proximity.  From a few feet, he was almost irresistible.  Pressed up against him, I lost the ability to think.  My body registered all the places we pressed together, all the hard wonderful maleness suddenly holding me down.

Like an animal in heat, I wrapped my legs around his waist and ground up against him.  The seam of my jumpsuit strained over my clit, making me arch and moan.

His big hands were on me, my back, my butt.  They swallowed my cheeks, squeezed with just the right amount of force as he pulled me flush against him.

I got my fistfuls of hair and dragged his head down toward mine.  Less than six inches away, he exerted just enough force to halt his approach.  He looked down cautiously into my face.  With him so close, I realized he was covered by an ultra-short layer of soft indigo fur.  I stroked a high, velvety cheekbone back to a gently pointed ear, then down his neck.

Oh God, he smelled good.

I leaned up and kissed him.  His startled breath puffed against my face.  His eyes, so close now, with diamond pupils and the most vibrant metallic green irises I’d ever seen, regarded me carefully as I sucked his bottom lip into my mouth.  I sucked, nibbled, and traced his soft lips with my tongue.  Finally, he opened, and I slipped into the hot cavern of his mouth.  I found pointed teeth and a rough, flexible tongue which gradually came out to play.  I groaned and his hands tightened on me.

I was undulating against him now, moving with desperate hunger.  Wanting to feel more of that blue skin, I freed the hem of his shirt and tunneled my hands under.  He was a tactile feast; all warm and solid, sculpted and velvety.

His hands were shaking as he yanked at my zipper.  He had to move back a bit to drag my jumpsuit down my legs.  Then he was back, his hand smoothing up my bare thigh, the pads of his fingers hot against my skin.  I shivered, anticipation making my heartbeat stutter.

His gaze caught mine as he found the slick, delicate folds of my pussy.  I made a startled sound, and then, completely absorbed in the intense sensations, my fingers curled against his chest.  He explored with surprising gentleness, making my breath hiss when he brushed my clit.

He was grinning down at me now, his expression cocky and rife with masculine delight.  His fingers brushed, teased, and traced, making me pant and squirm.  I pushed desperately up against him, squeezing his hand between us, demanding more.

I moaned as a large finger eased just inside—and paused.

Fucking tease!  I dug my nails into his shoulders.

With shattering suddenness, his finger surged into my hot, wet depths.  I cried out and clung to him, drawing his hard, heavy body against mine.  The heel of his hand pressed just the right spot as he moved languidly, finger dipping, curling inside me.  He murmured something in my ear, the mellow vibrations of his voice stroking me like an extra set of hands.

Just when I was thinking of reapplying my nails, another finger nudged alongside the first.  My breath came in little panting gasps, my toes curling helplessly in the grass as he worked it in.  I was wet, so incredibly wet, but his fingers were huge, stretching me.

I kissed him again.  Desperate to have more of him, I sucked on his lip, then his tongue.  My hands twisted in the foreign cloth of his shirt.

Sensation ricocheted through my body, tightening deep in my belly.  His starched uniform grazed my nipples, his rough tongue dipped in my mouth.  In a surge of lust, my muscles squeezed around his invading fingers.

He uttered a short, harsh syllable.  He pulled his hand away, only to fumble with the front of his pants.  Then he was free—Oh, my, God!

Captain’s Log.  We have discovered… a new species of cock.  It is of a strange color, and the largest we have ever seen.  I will accompany the away team…  He pushed my legs wide as he moved over me.  His huge shoulders blocked out the sky.

I gripped them and pushed my hips up against him.  I didn’t know if we were going to fit, but I was damn well going to try.

I gasped as he guided himself between my slick folds.  He felt like a fucking baseball bat!  The head of his cock was satiny smooth and intimidatingly broad as he applied a gentle forward pressure.  I writhed and drove myself up onto him, working him just slightly inside.  I did it again, and again, feeling a slow burn as I stretched for him.

Every muscle in his body had tightened to the consistency of steel, caging me under him.  His breath came in harsh, strained pants, but he held himself still, letting me go at my own pace.  His eyes blazed down into mine as my body slowly accepted him.

He lowered himself suddenly, bracing on his elbows, his chest pressing against my breasts.  He tasted my neck with his raspy tongue, making me shudder and groan. 

Wrapping my legs around him, I dug in my heels.  Then he was sinking into me, sliding inexorably into my heat.  My thighs trembled as I took him.  He was so tall that I had to tilt my head back to find his lips.  My moans were muffled by his mouth as I kissed him with raw need. 

He pulled back slowly, then inched forward, parting me, sliding deeper.  I gasped as he filled me completely.  Out of my mind with pleasure, I rubbed against him like a cat.  He throbbed inside me, swelling even larger.

Just when it seemed like I couldn’t take any more, he paused.  He was anything but unaffected, his breath harsh and fingers digging into the grass to either side, but he gave me the time I needed to adjust.

A little afraid to move, I hung onto him, eyes squeezed shut, feeling him full and hard inside me.  Gradually, I relaxed, my body accepting the intrusion.  Heat spread.

When I tilted my hips up against him, he began to move.  Slowly at first; each careful thrust, each grind of his pelvis against mine set sparks of pleasure showering inside me.  I cried out with each breath.  He groaned, moving faster as my sounds spurred him on.

My head thrashed as my muscles tightened.  He was hard as steel, pistoning into me as I squeezed him tighter.  I shuddered beneath him as my every nerve came alive and danced with exhilaration. 

It had been so long, but my body remembered what to do.  Just like riding a bike.  Though if this were a bike, it had flames painted down the side, monster tires, and warp capability.

It was so, so good.  I wanted to laugh and cry and thank God, but I just wrapped my arms around him and hung on.  All my fantasies during my five year dry spell paled in comparison to this unlikely reality. 

And then I was even beyond comparing.  I was a simple creature of instinct and sensation.  He was big and warm and male, and felt so right moving over me, in me.  I writhed and rode and clawed my way toward completion.

In an uncontrollable cascade, every muscle tightened, squeezing the breath from my body.  I was tight as a wire and suspended in the eye of the storm, grounded only by the heavy slide of Purple’s driving cock.

Then that sexy bald bastard Picard gave the order, and my warp engines engaged.

A glorious wave of sensation crashed outward.  Stars whizzed by in a sizzling flash.  I quivered, blinded and mewling, as five years of sexual tension exploded in a chain reaction of torrential pleasure.  My body spasmed helplessly, massaging the thick intrusion between my thighs.

Purple grunted as though I’d hit him.  His big hand curled over my shoulder, holding me in place as he thrust, pushing deeply into my clenching pussy.  He shuddered.

With an animal groan, he began to pulse heavily inside me.  It went on and on, the point where we were joined growing even hotter, wetter, fuller.

My eyes rolled back in my head on a long, throaty moan.  I was hot, flushed, and my heartbeat thundered in my ears.  I lay like that for long moments, panting, trembling, and only gradually became aware of my surroundings.

Grass tickled my butt.

Purple was warm and heavy atop me as his breathing calmed.  He finally, gently, withdrew, disentangled himself from my legs, and sat back on his haunches.  He took a moment to study me.

What did he see?  A small, pasty alien, legs splayed, so recently and well pleasured?  I could only hope his assessment was that flattering.  My mind was too blown to bother covering myself.

Then he stood, tucked himself back in his pants, and with one last—guilty?—glance, Purple hastened out the door.

I lay trembling, mostly undressed—the jumpsuit had clung stubbornly to one leg throughout—sopping pussy leaking both of our fluids, and watched him leave.  Hit and run.  Just like a man, I thought ruefully.  Then I let my head drop back to the grass.

Eventually, reality reared up its ugly head.  Did that just happen? Did I just have sex with an alien?  One who didn’t even speak my language, whose name I didn’t know?  In my prison cell?  With my jailer?!

A cooling trickle down my inner thigh said that yes, I had.  And on top of that, I hadn’t used protection.  Who knew what alien STDs he might have.  Or pregnancy!  I wasn’t on any form of birth control.  Birth control had been primarily taken by males for a couple decades now.  But even if I was, who was to say alien sperm didn’t have some super-strength abilities to survive and flourish where human sperm would fail?  And what if their form of reproduction would have something cracking my ribs to burst out of my chest in a few hours?!  I’d spent waaay too much time watching and re-watching classic sci-fi horror movies during my Monitor shifts, and my mind spiraled dangerously with the possibilities.

Foremost in my ludicrous thoughts, one question surfaced.  Was I Sigourney Weaver, or the nameless dude with the erupted ribcage?

That thought propelled me to a sitting position.  Hyperventilating in earnest now, I tried to pull my jumpsuit top together over my sensitized breasts.

This was too crazy.  Humans didn’t even know these blue men existed, which means I—I—had just made first contact.  And I’d fucked it.  I groaned, clutching the sides of my head.


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