0 – Prelude

This was all my boyfriend’s fault really. If he hadn’t convinced me to do that film; “Snow White and the Seven Burros”...Well, my life would have been completely different.

I was an innocent. Pure. Chaste even! He was my first lover and third boyfriend, I’d been only 16 when we got involved, 26 when we did Snow White. He was ten years my senior and possessed deeply depraved sexual inclinations. I should have run away the first time I found the bondage pictures on his computer. I didn’t, I thought we were star crossed lovers and instead got curious.

Looking back, I understand now that he had been grooming me. It started with mild kink; biting, pinching, silk scarf bondage. It ended with me chained down between two...well, I’ll come to that later. I’ll just say it ended badly. Light kink moved on to heavy kink; painful beatings and filthy, nasty, whips-and-chains kind of stuff. Then he showed me something that changed my life.

It was a woman, she was chained over something, and handlers were holding a dancing stallion. Not just any stallion, no a beautiful gray-white Spanish stallion with the largest erection I’d ever witnessed. Then they let him go and the woman was ruined. He was practiced, knew just what to do, he must have done it a hundred times before. One lurch forward, forefeet astride the woman. Then he bucked. She began to sob—I gasped. Her stomach bulged—my sex clench in sympathetic lust.

It didn’t last long; ten quick thrusts and a fountain of semen splashed to the floor. I came. I have no shame left anymore so I’ll admit it, I came on the spot without a touch. The video was put on repeat and I was forced to watch it. Chained me down with face toward the screen, my boyfriend mounted me from behind. It was one hell of a night, the first of many. Seventeen months later we made Snow White while down in Mexico.

That was where it started. Three more movies followed; “Flipper’s Release” down in Florida, “Bloodletting” back home, and “Make Her Cry”. We were going to make a fifth that final day, didn’t have a name for it yet, but… Well, there I was.

There I was, chained to an ottoman, knees lashed to my chest. We were well onto take 15: Do you know how hard it is to get two dogs to mount one woman at the same time without fighting? So far 15 was golden. Jessie, the oversized lap dog of a mutt, was bells deep—in my lap. My pit-mastiff, James, a rather grumpy fellow, had finally obliged me, my husband, and the camera. It wasn’t all pleasure though, let me tell you. Ever try to swallow a softball with the bat? I’d misjudged the girth of his knot and my jaw muscle was well on its way to a sprain. Not to mention; I was near drowning in canine pre-ejaculate!

Don’t get me wrong, I was “well on my way” to orgasm number six for the night too. I just wanted you to know, this was work! And hell if I wasn’t working it for the camera! Normally after a night like that, my dear asshole… er… boyfriend would leave me chained up in the garage covered in cum, scrapes, and bruises until morning. I didn’t think much of it. Well, no, I thought of many things to do to his gonads in retaliation. What I didn’t think much of, was what he did while I was indisposed—aside from sleeping comfortably in our bed, and being clean. What I certainly didn’t think was that he had a date with a supposed 12 year old! I say supposed, because when Dateline and the police showed up, I’m pretty sure the date was off.

Keep in mind I was well lubricated, mentally, with MDMA, pot and my prescription anti-anxiety drugs—a double dose to be sure. So when the police, lights, cameras, and all hell broke into our garage… I didn’t really notice, somewhere near the peak of number six, James screeched and my jaw was dislocated as the poor hound was pulled off me. Jessie, seeing as my vagina was no where near as tight, slipped right off and went to make friends with the camera man.

I, the star of my own little show, stared through a drug and lust induced haze up at the people surrounding me. They asked questions, and I damned myself, “No, ...He didn’t make me?” I said. Then I noticed my beloved asshole, still naked, being dragged away.

I made it on to the 9 o’clock news… albeit with all interesting bits blurred out. You could still tell what was going on of course and boy, was mother proud of me!

Self damning or not, once they cracked asshole’s computer. They had more than enough to convict me. It’s hard to pretend you weren’t willing when you had a video of you saying “Here boy! co`mere boy! Come to your bitch! She wants your puppies,” followed by a young Jessie with a stupid grin as he made his first clumsy attempt mount me.

Next came prison. I didn’t get the child porn or child enticement charges asshole got, they couldn’t find any evidence for that to make it stick. Instead, I was slapped with 10 years for obscenity and something about interstate commerce. That was that, up shit creek so to speak.

Prison was lonely, for the most part. I think dad was too embarrassed to write me, I got one hesitant letter about the weather in my first Year… and that was it. Mom had effectively divorced me as her daughter. The one phone call I had with her ended with me in tears and my good christian mother screaming expletives. Didn’t make many friends in the barracks either, seemed that they all watch the 9 o’clock news. I was branded.

So there I was, three years in and somewhere around one in the morning, giving my much bigger and meaner cell mate oral service. I’d learned to enjoy the act, I’d done far worse for asshole, many times, no questions asked. Like I said, there I was, just minding my celly’s business, when something stung my neck.

Insects were common inside. Roaches, wasps, flies, centipedes… you name it! I slapped the side of my neck rather annoyed. However, when I pulled back to look, I saw something small and mechanical like a metal wasp. That was when the soporific hit. I fell dead to the floor to the sound of my celly’s annoyed grunting.

I can’t say for sure what happened next; there was light. there was heat, and there was a bone jarring thud. I later learned that He had cut out the prison wall and pulled it free. It was about then when I passed out.

1 – Serpent’s Embrace

“Hello?” I croaked. It was dark—can’t see your own dick—dark… not that I had one to test with. I also hurt head to toe and felt like my head especially was ‘bout to have twins, ala Jupiter.

“Good morning Snow White!” a voice said, slightly slurred and mushy, like an old man who’d forgotten his dentures.

“Wha… good morning I guess. Who…” I started to ask but was interrupted.

“Much pain? I had to sterilize you. Earth is such a biologically violent place. Never know what new friend might catch a ride and doom an entire species!” His mushy voice was chipper enough to irritate.

I grumped back, “Is that why I feel like someone flossed my gut with a barbed-wire?”

He blurbed, a muddy unpleasant sound, “Apt analogy. Had to kill off all that nasty intestinal flora you know.”

“Uh -- don’t I need that? To digest food, I mean?”

“No, no, no! Just nasty, all those parasites, worms, viruses and such! Horrible. You will eat a neutral mono meal. Are you hungry already?” He sounded quite disgusted.

I shook my head, “Er, no, not especially.” My stomach hurt too much to think about food and whatever this ‘mono meal’ was, it didn’t sound particularly appetizing, “So who are you and where am I? Is this some new prison? I don’t see the parole board for another month… Didn’t think they would move me until then.”

“Prison? Oh, no no no. I rescued you from that barbaric cage so you could continue your Great Work.” There was deep emphasis on those last two words, almost awe.

“...Great work?” I asked with trepidation.

“Why of course, to explore the wondrous mating habits of animals!” He told me excitedly. “Your work in Flipper… actually stepping into another world to become a pod’s communal sex toy for a week. Brilliant just brilliant!” He let out a sigh, “Once I heard you had been imprisoned for your documentaries I knew I had to help you.”

I sputtered in disbelief, he was down right mad, “Why would you do this? They will come after you, us, you will get locked up too!”

“Why? Well, I, of course, expect compensation. Physical as well as financial. But there is no need to worry. Your police do not have jurisdiction where we are going . Oh yes, I brought you a pet. I know how much you love animals. Your Jessie, almost fully recoverable I’d say, though I had to make some changes.”

“You—saved Jessie?” Tears sprang to my eyes, oh how I had missed him. Nothing else in my life had meant so much to me as that puppy’s unflappable affection. I felt a sudden wash of affection for this bizarre man who had rescued him.

“Yes and no. I always wanted to see a documentary on snakes and I had an accident you see. They had already put him to sleep, I was able to recover most of his brain. It was a true joy I must say.” He jumped from topic to topic with no comprehensible link between them. Jessie put to sleep? Snakes? How does one recover most of a brain. What accident?

Mad, he was mad. I’d been rescued by a madman. “Uh… t-thanks? He’s okay though? What about snakes?”

“Yes. I’ll let you two become reacquainted!” He said, then there was a snick somewhere in the darkness. I heard something sliding, slithering.

“Ca--Could you turn on a light?” I begged, pleaded even. A snake he said. I hated snakes, horrid slimy looking things with evil eyes and twitchy-flicky tongue and fangs and coils and poison and … It touched me. I screamed. No light came on. The snake seemed to jump or lurch or launch itself and I found myself pinned under its weight.

He said snake, I imagined something like a ball python or rattle snake. By snake he meant mutant Anaconda. I would be dead shortly, it would crush the life out of me then swallow me whole and that would be it. I thrashed, coils coiled, my ribs creeked, I couldn’t breathe, and then it’s horrid flicky tongue flicked across my lips and chin. It was huge! That evil angular head nudged under my chin while it continued to flick, it was going for my throat.

And then it humped. Now, I don’t know about you but I’ve never seen a snake hump. Thrust, sure, undulate, yeah, but hump? Then came two slippery penises, a flood of sharp smelling fluid, and this snake—was fucking me for all it was worth. It felt not unlike a dolphin’s penis, but softer and wetter. It’s hard to get wetter than underwater but there is a quality to it. Under water is wet but not slippery, it doesn’t squish, slap and burp.

Did you know snakes could pant? I didn’t. I didn’t know they could hump either. I was bound and wound with clenching, twisting, bucking, and breathing coils of flesh from thighs to neck. He held me, he touched me, and he made me his willing, devoted, loving bitch. He used both members three times, one after the other and though I had no clock to judge by, it seemed to go on for hours.

I spread my legs for him, yielded to his apparent need. I clutched and clenched, bucked and rolled. This snake,this monster that could have swallowed my head whole—perhaps it was three years without affection beyond the bitch slaps of my celly—had my heart then and there just as he had my body. My vagina was his, drenched inside and out. My body was smeared from knee to breast in sour fluids. His penetration reached places I’d never felt touched, as if he could have speared right through me from vulva to mouth.

When it was over, there I laid; spent, drenched, reeking of snake, and in love. He lay under, around, and over me. I was like a bird in a nest with his head in my lap, endlessly licking cum from my folds—just like Jessie used to. Jessie… snake… accident… The words filtered into my mind again through the hazy afterglow. The snake, was Jessie. Unfamiliar, alien, but none the less I knew it was true.

The lights came on. He was mottled green and black, as long as a bus. His eyes, as they stared up at me, were not cold callous serpent eyes; they were Jessie’s sweet devoted brown. His eye ridges lifted as if to ask me, “What’s next?” and I knew for sure. “Jessie!” I cried and kissed his semen stained snout.

Only after that, when I’d regained some composure, then I noticed the room I was in. Stark gray, clinical, with odd forms jutting from walls or floor. A door. A door that yawned open almost fleshy-like and allowed a short brown—creature—to enter.

It was ugly. Brown papery skin that hung in folds. Milky yellow eyes. Four squat legs taken right off a hippo. Four long arms ended in piano fingers, nimble and twitching. It’s head was squat and wrinkled, like a lizard crossed with a raisin, and a short thick tail swayed behind it as it moved.

Its mouth opened to show a pale yellow tongue. Its jowls wobbled. It spoke, in english, “I see you two have been reacquainted nicely. I must say, it smells delectable in here. I wish I had time to partake!” The voice burbled, mushily. The same voice from the intercom.

“Who...What…” I stumbled as I stared, confused.

“I am your new agent. You may call me Bob. My proper name would hurt your ears. And yes, I am not from earth,” It… He… Bob said.

I gaped for a time, mouth opening and closing like a fish, eventually I managed to say, “C-can I go home?”

“Oh no. I am already halfway to jump range outside of Neptune’s orbit and I have a commission lined up. If I took you back I would default and it would bankrupt me! Terrible business, that. They would take my ship and worse, my… pride,” He hesitated over the word, the wrong one for what he intended to say.

Simply listening to him talk was making me ill again. Or it might have been the pain in my gut… or the raw pain in my genitals from being thoroughly mated for hours by a dog-snake. Perhaps even the realization that I had been “rescued” from prison into something far too incomprehensible and alien to dwell on without being driven into a panic attack. Anyway, I was miserable, “Oh,” was all I managed to say, then I curled up in Jessie’s embrace. He seemed to accept that word, found meaning in it, and left me alone.

2 – Bob’s Proclivities

Bob left me alone for a few days. I learned to eat the mono meal, or monotonous mush as I dubbed it. All the nutrients a body needed, in their simplest forms. In other words, pre-digested shit-soup. It tasted worse than it smelled, and it smelled somehow worse than it looked. The method I discovered, for consumption, was how I had learned to deep throat a donkey. Open mouth, relax throat, and let it slide down without thinking too much about it, then remember to breathe when given a chance.

Jessie was a bigger problem than monotonous mush. To survive on a warm space ship, Bob had adjusted him to be in a permanent highly active and warm blooded spring phase. In reality it meant he ate a lot and was perpetually horny. Not that this was different from old Jessie, but new Jessie was just so big and was no longer a two pump chump. Two to three times a day, two to four hours at a time—he had to be satisfied. You couldn’t tell him no, old Jessie, I’d toss him off and put him out back. New Jessie could bind you up and hold you down until he was done with you. I coped, but barely, just glad his digestive track was cleaned and sterilized as well… It would have been even more unpleasant and probably quite unhealthy. If you know anything about snake anatomy, you’ll understand what I mean.

I thought life couldn’t get more miserable. Then we jumped. “Three weeks of other space to get to know one another!” Bob explained.

I hadn’t felt the jump, I didn’t know what to expect, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know Bob either, “Don’t you, uh, need to pilot the ship?” I asked hopefully.

“Not while in transit through other space, all the work is in the lead up to the jump; after that it’s just waiting to land on the other side,” He told me cheerily.

I deflated. All I could say was, “Oh.” I felt quite lost and helpless. I couldn’t even rely on Jessie for help, he simply adored Bob. He adored everyone.

“Now, see, Snow White; I did a toxicological screen. My blood is noxious but nontoxic. My ejaculate is mildly intoxicating due to some alkaloid enzymes but harmless. So just don’t bite me and we should enjoy ourselves!” He was excited, it was in his voice, in the jerk of his tail, and in the stubby protruding phallus between his hind legs. I felt my stomach do a back-flip with a hint of nausea. I wondered if I could say no.

He swaggered forward and laid his lower hands on my shoulders. He smelled bitter and astringent against my nose. Then he kissed me. His tongue forced its way between my lips. His bitter saliva made me gag. I started to panic, my anxiety through the roof—already exacerbated to the point of breaking. The walls seemed to close in, my vision darkened at the edges, and I thrashed violently away.

Before I knew what was what, something stung the back of my neck and a short time later every nerve cooled. It was ice water over a bonfire, I sizzled into serenity. I came out of the helpless panic into an odd clarity of mind. “What…” I tried to ask.

“Forgive me, Snow White! I forgot you have panic attacks. This should help.”

I smiled up at Bob from the floor. Why was I on the floor? “Call me Betty,” I told him.

“Of course, Betty. Do you feel better?” he urged. I could see his stubby erection, and a continuous film of drool as it flowed from his crown of eight puckered slits. Eight urethra… Urethras? Urethrae? Urethritude?

I giggled at my own nonsensical thoughts, then marveled aloud, “You have four balls!” He did, too, two on each side with his prick an unrolled loop of wet, yellow flesh between them.

“Ah! Ever the zoologist! I truly admire your dedication and attention to detail. Yes, indeed, I have four gonadal like structures. Anatomically similar yet functionally dissimilar to human reproduction systems.” I was half ignoring him, fascinated. My mind was in a strange place. No fear, no panic, no concern; only a growing heat in my womb and a wonder at seeing the world through new eyes.

I rose slowly from the floor to meet his underbelly. The bitter stench was strongest between his back legs yet it no longer made me uneasy. I wrapped his messy spire in my lips and dragged my tongue over his ring of urethrae. The flavor surprised me, he was sweet, yet still burned bitter. Saliva glands erupted into overdrive, mingled drool and alien fluids ran down my chin and chest.

“Oh…” Bob whispered followed by a bubbling grunt from somewhere mid torso. I was on my hands and knees under him with his wrinkled thighs pressed to my ears; I barely heard him say, “In—uh—‘Make her Cry’ you, ah, enjoyed drinking that man’s waste. I understood this is a taboo to your people as it is to mine.” I grunted a distracted reply, monosyllabic and meaningless. I did a lot of things for my… asshole.

He took my grunt as assent. All eight urethrae flared open and a slimy jelly like substance filled my mouth. It was a sloppy, cloying sweetness intermingled with bitter. My addled thoughts lacked fear. Nothing, not toxins, not drowning, nothing worried me. I swallowed it as if he was soiling my mouth with ambrosia and nectar. It was too bitter to be syrup, too clumpy and jelly like to be honey, too watery and smooth to be semen. Under Bob, I fell in love in that moment—with alien piss.

“Oh!” He cried, then broke down into burbles and high pitched squelches. Only the meat of his thighs protected my ears from that cacophony. I ignored his antic and fixated upon what lay between my lips. I nursed his thick head, drank his waste, buried my nose in the folds of slimy, musty scented flesh. His girth made my jaw ache, but though I had my face pressed between his testicles, he didn’t hit the back of my throat. It was strange, but pleasant. So many times had I nausea triggered by cock down my throat, but not him! Before long, my entire head was covered in sticky mucus and his waste ran down to drip off each breasts in little gooey rivulets.

When the flow at last stopped, I noticed one of his balls as it throbbed against my right cheek. With a wet pull of air he said, “Prepare yourself! I-I cannot hold back.”

It was not what I expected. Yes it burned, yes it was bitter, yes it was full of alien flavors, scents, and pheromones; but it was still seman, my tastebuds knew it; it had a cloying—something. It was also a near solid rope of mucus. Two solid ropes, in fact, from the upper right most urethrae. I swallowed, the ropes didn’t break. They hit my stomach still yet connected to his prick. I tried to bite, and though they squished between my teeth but would not part.

Against my cheek that testicle clenched with powerful muscular contractions and shrank, pulse by pulse. Then a second, against my right side of my chin began to twitch. Two more ropes of alien genetic material were forced down my throat explosively with a gush of phlegm-like moisture. I should have been queasy, I should have been gagging on the odd sensation, like swallowing slimy yarn. Instead, my hips began to jerk in involuntarily spasms. I just sucked him harder, desperate with confused need.

He was bubbling and squelching again. A third testicle had also begun to twitch. By that point his strange quadruped form bucked madly and mashed his moist sheath into my face. To be honest, I loved it, and I’d love it in memory too, looking back. When all eight ropes filled my mouth, I had difficulty swallowing them together, as a twined tangle, they were thicker around than my thumb. Breath came in gulped bubbles and only a little mucus filled my lungs.

His long fingers found my swaying ass and he began to explore. I know he had watched all my videos, but it surprised me when he started doing things to my sex and anus that only asshole had done. A third hand occasionally spanked me while a fourth held me in place for his rutting. Needless to say, I came for him rather quickly. Four hands… no one should have four hands!

Two by two, the ropes became splatterings of broken jelly and gushes of fluid. The once immense testicles shrank to flatness and only quivered occasionally. The last ropes fell away into my distended gut and Bob’s stubby prick seemed to just melt from my mouth into a wrinkled fold tucked in his sheath. I fell back and laid, gut up, thighs apart. I stared at myself. Each alien sack had been larger than a grapefruit, and that was on top of his… whatever his equivalent of a bladder had been. My belly hurt.

“Oh, my!” Bob sputter a sigh, “I haven’t spent all four in decades you must know. Harems are not common these days.”

I swallowed to keep my stomach in place, “Harems?”

“Mm! In the old days, you were considered deviant if you had fewer than two wives. Not so anymore. One gonad for two females was optimal.” He gave what I’m sure was meant to be a sly wink, “Never heard of one female taking all eight cords—except in porn of course, ever unrealistic.”

I swallowed again and told him, “I can see why. I’m afraid to throw up, I’d just have to swallow them back down or I’d be stuck with your cum hanging from my lips for god knows how long!”

He burbled a laugh, “Oh your stomach acids should break it down quickly. Though I should warn you...ah, see, acid and alkali…” I belched suddenly and noticed an odd halo of prismatic colors around his head. “Yes, a lot of gas, and the decomposed alkaloids should be interesting. Do tell me about it? My Biological index could not tell me the affects, only that it was non-fatal.”

“Urp…” I gasped, then belched again. My whole body was beginning to feel heavy and distant, edges were wobbling, and I almost could hear the sea somewhere off to my right. “Not as bad as DMT… yet. I’m still here at least.”

He settled down, sitting like some wrinkled sphinx. A hand was laid over my belly and stroked, I was petted like an cat. I could just imagine myself like Jessie, service rendered and pet to sleep. He seemed to be reading me thoughts, or had I spoken aloud? “While you are such-wise imposed upon, I should tell you. By law you are categorized as property. Not unlike a pet on Earth. You, my little Snow White, are mine.” He had paraphrased from ‘Make her Cry’.

I shuddered and stared into his face, the sagged folds of flesh seemed to pulse and breathe. I couldn’t seem to find the energy to lift an arm or even turn my head to look away. I tried to say something, but forgot what it was and couldn’t seem to get my tongue to work anyhow.

I’d had experienced bad trips before, especially when my medication ran out. Anxiety isn’t good on psychedelics. This should have been a bad trip, a horrible trip; his meds were good.

His hand lowered and dipped between my splayed thighs. Helpless as I was, I couldn’t close them to save my life. He took full advantage over me, not that I would have rejected him. He lazily fingered me and spoke but I couldn’t focus on the words. I so very much wanted to buck my hips into his touch, but couldn’t manage to even clench my Kegals. Bit by bit he teased silent and motionless orgasms from my body. They became nervous explosions and wildfires in my senses that never passed beyond the barriers of my mind. In my vision, his halo seemed to grow, then collapse with each sexual peak. I couldn’t even cry out as I stared in mute transfixion into my new found god—or devil.

3 – True Service

I woke to cold hard sanity; and Jessie doing his thing. He had managed to find the wrong hole again but I was in no position to fix it or admonish him—I endured the discomfort for a while, until he switched spires and got it right. It was that shock of discomfort which had awoken me. My heart thudded, my breath came in gasps, and I could feel the edge of panic threatening.

I ached. Not just Jessie’s rude and pointed use, but a bone deep ache. my stomach at least felt flat and empty, but too empty, hollow even. I wondered how long it had been—since Bob. My mind shied away from the memories, they seemed unreal and disturbing. I did things, endured things, survived things I shouldn’t have, I recalled drowning for times without panic or even my throat seizing up, it just wasn’t natural. I had literally inhaled fluids, taken waste into my lungs only to breathe it out again without even a cough. What the hell.

Maybe it was Jessie’s powerful thrusts, or the memories, or both; I felt myself on the edge suddenly and yearned for Bob, ugly as he was. My mind was nothing but lust though moment I thought of him. I had flashes of him sitting over me, making me cum, making me his; all while I laid there helpless. How long had he done that to me I wondered, my memories couldn’t tell me but it felt like a very long time. Other things had happened, other experiences were tangled up in there, all out of chronological order. Drowning in alien piss… that had happened, but not the first time… right?

Jessie pulled out for the fifth time when the lights came on and Bob walked in. Instead of re-inserting, the snake-dog slithered away to his hole in the wall. I trembled as I laid there in a puddle of filthy serpent cum, and stared up at my alien owner. My heart skipped a beat. My vaginal passage clenched violently. A spray of ejaculate spat across the floor with a wet squelch and struck the wall. I lost complete control over myself the moment he entered the room.

“We have arrived!” he exclaimed.

Arrived. Arrived? It took my mind a long sluggish moment to drag itself from the depths of depravity, to ask, “It’s been three weeks already?”

He seemed taken aback, “Why no, it has been fifteen!”

“Fifteen? I… The last thing I remember was sucking you off and then tripping balls.” I blinked, then burst out laughing, “Tripping...Balls!” Oh I had to remember that one.

He smiled a toothless gummy smile, “Ah, well, your intoxication lasted longer than I anticipated and I didn’t wait for it to clear before, ah, utilizing your wondrous mouth again.”

I was torn between two extremes; horribly aroused and abjectly appalled, “You kept me drugged and helpless for over three months?” My eyes inadvertently strayed between his back legs. His gonads were swollen again but his penis was tucked away between them, hidden.

“You don’t remember any of it? Hmm! It must interfere with long term memory production. Well! We will have to experiment more later, we’ve just arrived. I am ready to send you down.”

“Arrived, where?” I asked. “What do you mean send me down?” It took another moment for my memory to jostle loose the whole reason he had abducted me from prison.

“Oh, yes, memory. Ah… That commission I mentioned. There is an interesting species on this world that uses other animals for its reproductive cycle. You are to enter that cycle for the next six months. It will all be documented on sensory shunt, video, audio, and hormonal feeds.”

I choked, “Six… six months?” Then I asked, “Can I even survive down there that long?”

“Oh yes, on your way down you will be inoculated and your intestines will be recolonized with native bacterial flora so you can feed on the subjects digestive system!” Bob smiled, he seemed just so excited—it was down right infectious! “The subject will feed you, and any wounds, infections, or missing organs and limbs shall be repaired! Now, off you go, kiss Jessie goodbye!” As he spoke the name, suddenly the snake was there again, his doggy door flapping back and forth from the haste of his return. Once more in my face, all flicky tongue and nuzzly chin, I did as bidden and french kissed that snake with urgency. I suddenly very much did not want to leave his protective coils.

There was a brief moment of silence and separation as everyone left the room. Then I was off. I didn’t actively go anywhere. Instead, the floor just seemed to suck me down and plop me in a dark chamber. In a matter of seconds I was poked, washed, dried, had things shoved in every hole, then the room tossed back and forth as it moved into position followed by another minute or two of deep dark silence and peace.

There was an—irregularity. I cannot better describe what happened, only that I must have fallen asleep in that brief peaceful moment, and then I awoke with no sense of time’s passage. I was still in the dark, but there was noise, a regular pop and clunk of hot metal as it contracted, of wind, of flames crackling. This continued for a long long time until at last...

The room opened like a flower and folded down. The trip had been brutal but the—pod or whatever had restrained and protected me. I waited for the restraints to release as I gazed about me at what was to be my new home for the next six months.

It was mossy scrubland; wet, muddy, and warm. It reeked of rotten vegetation and fecal mater. I began to realize just how clean the ship was. I also realized that I hadn’t taken a crap once in memory since Earth. Monotonous meals went in like crap, but didn’t come out.

The restraints didn’t let go. The craft began to meld into the terrain, and took on the appearance of a moss covered boulder. Just as I was beginning to panic, I felt an injection of something cool under my wrist shackle. Fear faded and lust began to swell in my exposed sex. I was vulnerable, spread eagle, naked upon an alien world, and I felt nearly as excited as Bob about what was to come. Time however did not meet my eagerness with haste.

There was a sound sometime later, it came from my boulder, a hollow echo returned from my left, then again, and again. An hour later the call and answer resolved into a giant—thing that came up over the marshy scrub. It was like a cross between a leach and a sea cucumber with a tentacle mouth instead of teeth. I swallowed hard, and assumed this was to be my new lover. When it moaned out that hollow noise, I knew it for certain.

As it closed, I realized it was near as large as a car and it reeked of rot, mud and an odd bestial musk. It took forever to close with me, slug like movement was not built for haste. It stopped when it was close enough to touch me. Slimy tendrils stroked across my chest, and left disgusting trails of mucus, then it belted out another cry similar to the one before, just more excited if you could call it that. A dozen echoes were returned… within an hour I would be leisurely swarmed.

In the mean time, my new hideous friend continued its exploration. It found clefts, folds, holes and before it was done, I was entirely slime coated—and filled. Throat, anus, and vagina were not excluded. To my surprise, it’s mucous was salty, I’d forgotten that things could actually be salty.

My friend turned about and showed me its back side. In truth I couldn’t really have told its front from its back if I hadn’t witnessed its approach. There were differences though; for instance from within the back ring of tendrils—much like an anemone—emerged a protrusion, it just rolled out. The core of this odd, muck covered protuberance, was a rod dotted in grape sized… things.

While my analytical and overly depraved mind was contemplating this curious display over my head, down it came sharp and fast like a stinger. He forced the blunt tip of the rod between my lips; it was hard, jointed, and covered in a rubbery flesh. The muck coated my face, filled my nose and mouth. I thought to bite or spit, but that seemed counterproductive. While I deliberated, the whole back end of the beast fitted over my face and tendrils entwined tight about my skull.

He stopped but his jointed rod, like an armored tail; continued on. I couldn’t have stopped it anyway, as it forced its way down my throat. I just swallowed and began to rock my hips desperately, against nothing. It bottomed out, almost two feet inside of me. The next thing to happen, those odd bumps, the grape like things—stung. I would have screamed if I wasn’t already swallowing half a slug’s articulated genitalia. Then, without care, it withdrew. Not a single bump remained to be seen, all left inside me, burning, including one dead center the roof of my mouth.

It was round, with tail, a tail that was eating its way through my skin and coiling into my flesh. I tried to pry it up, but it wouldn’t pull away. I licked and sucked at it, but it just burrowed deeper into my tissue until only half the grape was exposed. I tasted blood and something alien, the flavors coated my tongue, sharp and acidic, salty and foul.

While I fixated on the parasitic horrors that had been dumped into my upper digestive tract, the slug thing moved away. Only when the sky was visible again did I look, up to see six more. They each explored me, they each found my holes. Two more went for my mouth, three for my anus. That I will admit was a very strange feeling I must say—two feet of alien phallus in my colon and up my intestines! Then one managed to not only find the right hole—my vagina—but tear open my cervix with the force of his penetration and leave his burning gifts in my womb as well! The last missed the memo and ended up leaving two in my navel. Whatever Bob had doped me with, my mind remained clear, even as I rolled and thrust my hips against the invaders. I was pure business, analyzing the strange feelings, the horrible pains, and the intense invasion as if it was some one else entirely. Dissociative, that was the word, I was dissociative.

Once my seven lovers were done with me, they hooted a call, different from before, and waited with me. The grapes had stopped wiggling into my flesh, half embedded, and had started to leak. It was a sour-salt fluid the texture of chalk dust in water. It also stained my tongue yellow. I should add, there were four of those grapes in my mouth and close to twenty stretching down my throat and stomach. I didn’t want to think of how many were in my bowels … I could already feel the chalky liquid oozing from sex and anus. My navel was just a pool, with milky yellow fluid oozing down the side my stomach.

She arrived at last. Bigger than the—I assumed—males, heavier, and much slower. She moved up to me and dragged her facial tendrils head to toe. She dipped into my mouth after I’d swallowed, into my navel, then both sex and ass. It struck me suddenly what she was looking for. All three lower areas were leaking, only my mouth was the “input.” She seemed satisfied with her discovery though I felt a deep unease grow. The drugs, they were not enough.

She too turned about, then backed up over my legs and hips. She raised up her back end, and I looked upon a very different set of tools. There was nothing at the tip of her tail, but a few feet down her underside was a thick flabby folded cleft, like the largest vagina you ever saw. It was also the last thing I saw as she queened my face.

Mud, mucus, fluids, and worse bathed my head and chest. I couldn’t breathe but as I suffocated, I tried. A bubble popped in my nose and gave me a tiny breath of hot humid, musky air. Then another and another. Suddenly air gushed as something rubbery and muscular hit my nose and was sucked inside by my gasp. Breath after breath it worked its way into my throat, then lungs. Once it bottomed out, it swelled and sealed its path.

For the longest time I just breathed. I was not however given a choice as to when, I breathed when she did, but at least it was air. Hours or days might have passed, I couldn’t say, I fell asleep. I was woken as something hard, not unlike the male’s rods, forced its way between my teeth. It disgorged a flood of watery sludge that had no where to go but down. Bob’s words suddenly struck a cord, “feed on the subject’s digestive system.” That asshole, I thought as another gush from the slug’s cloaca pooled in the pit of my stomach. Even with Bob’s drug in my system, I wanted to vomit. Foul, watery and half solid waste poured down my throat at high pressure as I struggled and squirmed to no avail.

The shackles let go then as I yanked. I for a brief moment imagined freedom from a hell worse than death. I was mistaken; I tried to move but found myself glued skin-to-skin to my putrid captor. She moved instead, dragging my back through the mud. Bit by bit a tough leathery shell of… I don’t know, slime, flesh, feces? Whatever it was, it encased me and glued me to my queen. I wouldn’t go hungry, I was fed regularly, and I pissed myself against her underbelly—like a racehorse—just as often.

I was held in alien bondage that for what could only be days. Fed, fatted, incorporated into the nest of her bosom, if you were polite. Then things changed. Those grapes, I reasoned by now, they were some sort of parasitic gonads, a fire and forget sperm sack. I wondered when the other half would come to meet them, and was at last answered. Another wash of a fecund meal, and with it a wriggling larval worm squirmed into and around my mouth. The drug had worn off days ago; I wanted to puke, to spit, to scream, to claw my eyes out. I couldn’t do anything. Pressure forced a swallow as I silently wept.

After the first, more arrived. They came in waves every few hours. Sometimes there was more larva than shit wriggling about my mouth. With no other choice, I gave them entrance to my body. Each and every one,I was blessed to feel every wiggling inch of them squirm down my throat and through my stomach—endlessly. Day after day, mouthful after mouthful; my stomach swelled, my discomfort grew. I only knew day and night for my queen’s movements—assuming she rested at night. The words; “six months,” echoed through my mind… When I was not mentally screaming from the horror of it all. Or wracked with the most intense panic attack any human had ever endured without their heart simply giving out. Needless to say further, I was in pure distilled hell.

My children grew in the warm fertile expanse of my intestines. I’d lost track of any sense duration by the time the first slug extruded itself from my belly. It was so large and long, I felt sure—that one time the donkey missed and forced his way up my ass—that had been less of a pain. Then came the next, and the next. Just as they entered, in waves, they left in waves, my poor sphincter torn open and bloody. There wasn’t a moment of peace who’s duration was longer than a count to one hundred.

They entered faster than they exited. Twenty or thirty in a swallow, one or two a minute departed. My body swelled. Something tore inside, I could feel them around my naked organs, tangled in my intestines. Some couldn’t find their way out! My previous panic attacks had nothing on the period after I realized this.

For a time I went insane. I was a slowly breaking incubator, I wondered how long the native creatures lasted. I could imagine the queen simply digesting me into her after I died. Fuck Bob! But bit by bit, longing for that inevitable death as I drank shit, maggots, and hatred—then shat worms as big as horse dicks. I had no tears left, only the dark black vitriol of my sundered soul. In my mind was a void, a dark hate filled schism into which I screamed obscenities that could have both summoned Cthulhu and made him blush.

4 – A Return to Normal

There was light, sound, and sensation none altogether unpleasant. I opened my eyes to see a ceiling of brown fleshy folds moving back and forth above me. My sex was stretched to its limit, he was using me.

I recalled going down to the planet, I remembered the slugs, I remembered the first few being born; after that there was a blank. I opened my mouth, licked under my tongue, felt a scar, “S-six months are up?” I asked.

With a burbling pant he said, “And another three for healing. I kept you under in coma while working on you.”

Panic edged in my voice as I explained, “I-I don’t remember most of it! Why don’t I remember?” Then I gasped and arched I felt his member twitch and the first splatter of his alien seed flood me.

“Good!” He squelched, voice tight and strained, “I’ll let you experience the documentary sometime.” Hands explored me, fondled breasts, cheeks, my hair. His hips jerked, he bottomed out, another ejaculation began. “You were quite upset when you got back. I managed to erase most of your memories. You seem so much better now!”

I writhed under him, my body played like an instrument as his fingers pinched, caressed, and probed. His words did filter in, but the pleasure I felt left them disconnected from reality. I licked again at the scars in my mouth, remembered the effluent evacuations. Then, my orgasm swelled violently. It was so sudden, as his third gonad twitched and began to unload. I swallowed a mouth full of saliva that tasted clean and pure and licked the scar again with a strange, confused sense of loss.

“You almost…” He squelched as two more ropes began to gush inside of me, like a giant knotted rope. I looked down to see my belly distend as all four of his testicles clenched against my pubic mound. His words continued, voice strained, “you almost died. I had to pull you out two weeks early. Apparently the mates do not survive the experience.”

My gut swelled and swelled, the scars in my navel visible. I looked pregnant, looked ready to burst but felt no pain. In confused shock, I cried out, “What?” then gripped my belly, “what did you do to me? Neither my vagina, nor uterus are that big!”

His hips jerked, and mashed his sloppy folds into mine. All four gonads spasmed hard, and my gut bounced with the intense pressure. He explained eventually, between wet pants, “Since you now eat mono meals I made you more efficient … and lots of room for…” He screeched as his climax peaked and testes clenched again hard, “for me!” I swelled even further, grotesquely. Something that wasn’t quite nausea knotted inside of me.

I asked with trepidation, “What do you mean more efficient?” and swallowed. I felt like I was going to throw up, but lacked the normal queasiness.

“Well, see, subject completely destroyed your stomach. Colon, womb, intestines, stomach, it had all ripped out. I fixed it but made it simpler, its all one! Lots of room now!” He said gleefully, and there was—room that is. Though as he pumped in through my vagina I felt my sphincter loosen and a rope pushed out, just a bit. A moment later, the pressure gave way and I felt my anus open wide as slippery ropes of alien cum splattered against the wall and floor below me. The pressure against my throat reduced as I evacuated.

I peaked, confused and humiliated as I was, my orgasm rose to climax. My stomach clenched, the flow from between my cheeks increased, my vagina slammed down like a vice on Bob’s stubby prick, and I howled. A flash of memory filtered up, of my anus tearing, of worms in contest to escape my ragged bowels. It was faded and unreal in the pleasure I felt, but it was there none the less. My anus clenched down, but the gummy ropes of semen remained.

At last, as I calmed, I managed to squeak out a question, “One? You mean...no intestines, stomach, or womb, just one big ...hole?”

“Four holes, one chamber!” He corrected, “Mouth, vagina, urethra, anus. I got rid of your nasty acid too, it nearly wrecked your kidney and liver!”

“You...You can’t just rearrange me like a deck of cards!” I whined, no longer did I wish to feel the pleasure of his thrusts or the pleasure of the intense fullness. I was his plaything, helpless, but I tried so hard to reject him… and failed.

With triumphant finality, he told me, “I can, and did. You are mine.” Mute and helpless, I wept, mute and helpless, I orgasmed. My throat again strained as the pressure built. His ropes continued splatter and sputter from anus as his ejaculation continued. In a moment I would have them blasting out my mouth too. To my relief, for what it was, he finished before it was too late. As he withdrew, he unplugged my mutilated body, and the mass of rubbery, slimy semen burst free. I just stared down, over my deflating stomach as the splatter struck the far wall and stuck. Beyond me was a shotgun blast of pale green mucous, and a tangled net of eight still connected ropes.

He stared down at me, and the contents of my empty bowels, and noted, “Uhm, should add constriction musculature to interior cervical passage to keep contents in. I almost had it right,” he decided.

I looked up at him, but the words I wished to say seemed distant and confused. I started to speak anyway, but before I could bring my faculties back together, consciousness seemed to be ripped from me. Just a faint snick, a blip of thought terminated and restarted. When I woke again, it was as if no time had passed. Like a light switched turned off, and on again, his doing I assumed. There was something else I could assume to be his doing; my belly was incredibly full, it jutted upward as if pregnant. I could be certain he had been successful in his modifications of my flesh… and had emptied himself into me again, while I was unconscious. My whole lower half was still caked in dry cum.

With care, I sat up. My round, bloated torso felt strange. The contents sloshed, I belched, and a splatter of half digested, sour-flavored semen hit the back of my throat. At least It didn’t fountain out again… “Wish he would treat me like a person,” I muttered. As I looked around, I realized I wasn’t in the same room I had come to know so well; this one was furnished a window, or possibly display screen. It showed a starscape, though it didn’t move past like in the movies. I looked about; a chair, bolted down in a way that reminded me of prison; beyond the chair, a desk with a handful of books, magazines, and some zoophilia photos. Bob really did love his animal sex. He had a number of photographs framed, and decorated the walls with them like prized paintings.

I even found a photo of me nursing on Jessie—the original, dog formed Jessie—just going to town on his penis. I smiled. Life had been so much simpler then.

A strangeness formed in the corner of my vision. The window blurred as I looked at it, distorted, then the stars were gone. In their place was a misty veil of something else, something that hurt to look at, something full of impossible colors, yet seemed gray and flat at the same time. I wrenched my gaze away and wondered aloud, “This—is other space?”

I hadn’t noticed the open door behind me, and bob’s voice answered from beyond, “Quite so! We are on our way, last jump to your next commission.”

He strolled in as I turned, his excitement apparent and swollen gonads hung heavy under him, “Urgh, not again, I’m rather full.”

“Mm, yes—I did let Jessie enjoy himself!” He told me cheerfully as his arms, all four closed around me from behind. I flinched but didn’t pull away as he pulled my back into his chest.

I re-emphasized, “I don’t think you can fit any more in me right now.”

His soft lips touched the back of my neck, a lower hand slipped between my thighs, and he whispered, “Mm? I can and will. Jessie’s will come out, you won’t burst.” I whimpered, but gave no resistance as he pushed me face first into the rubbery mattress I’d been resting on. Hands held my hips, dragged my rear under him, and His blunt knob of a cock nestled itself between my cheeks. “I haven’t tried this orifice yet, I think I will enjoy it.” I tensed, but said nothing as his hinds dipped, bucked, and his girthy, mucous soaked crown was forced through my anus into my colon… did I still have a colon?

There was a pain, hard and sharp enough to make me squeal. My poor sphincter had been torn and broken, then put back together, only to be broken again by my… my owner. Or perhaps not, for as his crown entered and the shaft sank home, the pain faded into only a very discomfort. That discomfort faded as he held me, as he touched me. A hand came to rest between my thighs and explored. Another two cupped each breast, nipple pinched between fingers, the fourth curled in my hair and held my head down against the mat. Four hands was not fair, four hands was way too many!

His proclamation was correct. As he pressed his heavy grapefruit sized testes against my soft rump, I felt the pressure grow. Then to my dismay, he emptied his waste into me, a torrent of slippery-slimy-filthy mucous. I groaned, moaned, and blushed like a virginal bride. I’d never had someone piss in my ass before, and I loved it… That revelation was short lived however as the pressure peaked, my throat clenched, and a moment later my moan silenced as my gullet opened up. The flow was comical, like something from a cartoon. Before my eyes I watched a coherent stream of cloudy yellow snake semen spray across the mat and floor.

The dam had burst, my stomach shrank, the flow tapered off then gushed again, and again as my stomach muscles clenched involuntarily. Soon I was vomiting up not just snake semen, but Bob’s waste as well. The cloying sweetness, the stench, the astringent bitterness, the intense overwhelming memories, and his fingers as they worked pistons, in and out of my hungry sex… I gave in fully and lost myself to the pleasure of satisfying him. I felt broken inside, confused, and ashamed, but mostly joyful. Then he began to ejaculate and chemically induced joy washed away any other thought.

Some hours later I regained coherent thought and found myself tongue-washing the floor of alien and snake semen. I stopped myself eventually, though it was hard to pull myself away, then sat up and asked, “So… urp…” I was so full, I almost threw up again, “What’s the next… uh, commission?”

His eyes seemed to light up behind the wrinkled folds of his forehead, and he told me, “It’s rather like a prehistoric Earth. Lower oxygen content so no super-giants, but a violent world of parasites. There is no specific subject this time, you are just to live down there for two months and bring back intense experiences and observations!”

I shuddered, “Parasites?”

“Oh, don’t you worry. Nothing too harmful. They may bite, sting, and spray, but you are the wrong biology. No effective neurotoxin or deadly poisons. Just glorious life to mate with!”

“Can I say no?” I begged.

He looked aghast, “Of course not! Where is your scientific integrity, the contract has been accepted!”

I lowered my head and wanted to know no more. “What will be, will be,” I told myself under my breath and fought down my anxiety. “So… uh, where’s Jessie?” I asked, I deeply wanted his coiled comfort and affection, comfort only a dog-snake could provide.

He looked off, then back, “Napping in his cage, would you like to join him?” I nodded. A few minutes later I was ejected from the wall after a very confused journey, and landed in a small gray room aside the massive sleeping snake. The room was cramped, barely enough space for him, let alone both of us. It was perfect. I crawled into the cavern of his coiled body and felt safe… it was familiar somehow, trapped in the dark, enveloped in another living body… “Oh,” I whispered to myself, as I realized where the emotion resided from. Did I truly long to return to the slug? “What the fuck Betty?” I shook my head and snuggled into my beloved Jessie. I caressed him, teased his cloaca, and hoped it would give him nice dreams. For a change, I thought of my cell back on Earth, away from the mad alien agents and horrible monsters, but once more my thoughts turned to the confining rape of the slug.

Sometime later, I found myself masturbating without conscious thought, and turned my attention back to Jessie’s slit. As he slept, I coaxed him into a state of arousal; he tasted so much better than the slug, and Bob for that matter. Even if not human, he was at least from Earth. I fell asleep with both of his fat members tucked into either cheek, as I nursed on a continuous rivulet of his waste. Much better. I dreamed of a slug raping my mouth, and me birthing puppies that looked like snakes.

5 – Nesting Instinct

Once again deposited on an alien world, naked and helpless. At my insistence I wasn’t shackled in place this time. Bob had reluctantly agreed. The craft opened and I stepped out… right into a puddle of mud that reached mid thigh. The world was bright and green, it was a jungle, and so very hot. Sweat beaded across every inch of skin in seconds and the damp wind refused to dry me.

I felt a sharp pain in my foot, and looked down to see something squirming away back under the mud. There was a muddy raised welt just above my heel. Bite, sting, and spray indeed. At least it didn’t poison… I hoped Bob was right.

The steamy jungle was loud and—actually quite amazing. I’d gotten a taste of jungle in Mexico and the everglades, but nothing like this. Huge trees, underbrush so tight I had to crawl through it, and vast swarms of life everywhere I looked. Before long I actually somehow missed mosquitoes, I was so covered in welts, many wept foul scented fluids, I was screaming with each step. I didn’t know where I was going but to stop was not an option; to stop meant the swarm caught up.

It was well into an hour of panic and flight when the jungle suddenly went silent. My pursuant pest swarm scattered. I stopped, and for all of ten seconds felt relieved before my pain clouded mind asked why. Then I heard something large come through the underbrush behind me and I spun just in time to witness a blue-black shape as it hurtled from the underbrush. It looked at first glance like a scorpion had been crossed with a Komodo dragon, minus the tail.

It hit me head to chest and sent me ass first into a bush. He remained atop me, great scorpion claws pinching down on my bare arms. It’s angular head, lizard like, snapped forward and sank two fangs into my left breast. Fire bloomed, I screamed anew, he withdrew and green venom oozed back out from the puncture wounds. “Nothing venomous to me,” I reminded myself aloud in the face of the monstrous alien atop me. My breast was started to swell, lumpy and uneven, and hurt like hell… but it could have been worse, or so I told myself.

It was all so fast. One moment I was harried, the next I was pinned under a half ton of hard shelled insect. I gasped to scream again, as armor shifted on its underside and a damp, limp, pale white appendage slipped out. A stream of orange fluid poured from it over my groin and stomach, it smelled like extra-sour lemons—that had rotted in the sun.

It kept jabbing that limp member against my stomach, worse than an untrained dog. A part of me, the non-panicked part, thought I was crazy, but I lifted my hips to help it. I had trained so many animals in the art of fuck over the years, what was one more? I had two months to kill, might as well! The tapered tip struck true, and twisted twist as my entrance closed over it. Limpness vanished as it flexed, then thrust forward, through me. It couldn’t quite pass my new, tight cervix but it seemed to enjoy the game of battering ram against my closed gate.

It was almost pleasurable, especially in comparison to the agony of the last hour or so. If my breast hadn’t hurt so bad, I might have even enjoyed myself. Then the flow of rotten lemon slurry stopped and was replaced by something gooey. It stuck to my folds, glued to my labia together, matted my pubic hair like liquid latex, and coated the walls of my passage. Rapid inflation followed, my vagina stretched until it felt like someone had lodged a football up there.

My new friend stopped after a minute, and I wondered if he was done, but he didn’t pull out. From under him, helpless and pinned, I had a good view of his genitals. Slimy white flesh, a folded loop from which the phallus emerged, orange mucous oozed. Then before my eyes, the flesh began to swell and distend. The clefts flattened, glands sprayed sour reek over my body. That swell formed into a lump, a lump that entered the base of the huge member, and a bulge slid its way down her length...or was it actually he? Did this biology even have a gender? The swell kissed my messy folds, then forced them apart wider than was comfortable. Skin tore before my eyes with a faint pop, blood splattered the pale under belly of the creature. I sobbed. Then with a slimy splash it was over, its egg had been placed in my freshly tilled flesh-soil.

It didn’t watch the insectile monstrosity go, I was in too much discomfort to care, my vulva bulged out as if vacuumed, a wrong and disturbed vision. Coated in hard, rubbery orange mess, slippery and smooth to the touch. When I probed inside, my fingers reached only an inch deep until halted by a tough rubbery mass glued from wall to wall. I clawed at it, tried to tear the damn thing out and my fingers only came away bloody. There was an itching too, all over my lower stomach, groin and ass. My skin was raw and red where the glands had sprayed. Acidic? Caustic? It was hard on the local fauna and flora for sure, the puddle of orange had turned the plants black.

In time the swarms returned and I still didn’t move, too exhausted to care. I watched, in numb fascination as something like a dragonfly landed on my unbitten breast and jab its stinger end into my nipple. It hurt, but not as bad as the rest of me. Its tail throbbed three times and then it flew off and left behind a tiny egg under my skin. I wished for that hard black armor, it made sense. I was like a walking open sore, fresh and vulnerable.

I laid there for hours, and would have remained for the rest of my life, but even in the dull depressive agony that had become my life, I still feared certain horrors. It was a worm half a meter in length and as thick as my thumb, that was enough to make me get up. It had started to burrow into my burned inner thigh and it took both hands to yank it back out. I ran with blood running down my legs. What would it have done once it had gotten fully inside? I’d have never gotten it out!

For hours I stumbled on, there was no relief, no rest. Sometimes I fell, but the wild life made me move on again soon. Hunger pains gnawed at my gut until I snatched a large fruit off a vine and tried to eat it, seeds and all. It wasn’t too bad but I’d made a mistake. Seeds could be parasitic too it turned out.

I spent six hours the next day, delirious from exhaustion and pain as I squatted in the dirt and pulled vines from my ass. The seeds had found my body overly inviting and germinated into a knot of tangled roots. I had no interest in exploring the sexuality of a vine, thank you, but they had explored their way from throat to anus before I realized what was going on.

My vagina hurt, still and worse than when it had been violated. My labia were swollen and glossy, my flesh felt hot and infected. It wasn’t pleasant. I passed into fever dream still running and awoke again, face down in a tangle of roots below a tree. I was dizzy and very hot, my head ached, and every inch of skin felt broken and swollen. It didn’t matter how much I convinced myself it wasn’t, I felt like I was on a ship, as waves rolled forward and back.

Delirium gave way after a moment to realization; the moving world was actually moving and not just some fever-dream. I—was—rocked back and forth and some other was doing the motions. I looked back to see another scorpion-lizard thing, smaller than the previous. My groin was numb, dead, so I only felt when he bottomed out and pushed me forward. Below me, though the roots, I watched heavy globs of sperm slop down from my raped cunt across my ravaged flesh and dribble to the mud below.

It finished soon after, and darted back into the underbrush as I rolled over. I stared down at myself, then to my numb vulva in shock. It was swollen even more, bulged out like a volleyball with a greenish cast to the filth coated skin. It was the only skin that didn’t look like hamburger; the insects avoided it. I touched it; numb, hot, hard and tight. I moved my hand between my thighs, and found my swollen entrance, soaked through with alien seed. I couldn’t help myself, I licked my fingers clean. Sour, my tongue burned a little from the intensity. Rotten lemon flavor, but unquestionably semen. I spent some time fingering my numb, horribly distended hole with delirious interest, and licked the mucous away. My whole pubic mound was firm and swelled, senseless but alive. Blood pulsed through my veins, even if it felt like something alien instead of my own body.

Eventually the swarm returned, and I stood with difficulty to flee. I felt that hard paunch slosh, and realized it was hollow. The bulge protruded near six centimeters, and began just below my navel. I was thankful it didn’t hurt! It really looked like a giant gangrene blister ready to burst.

The stings and bites and worse prodded me on, and I stumbled off, dizzy as ever, but I couldn’t sit still. Fluid ran down my thighs, greenish and acrid almost chemical. My skin was starting to itch as well, especially my ankle, from when that first thing stung me. I paused a moment to lift my heel and look.

Red veins spread outwards from the welt, three of them, winding like rivers on a map. Then I noticed the raised bumps of larva moving along under my skin, making those veins. I looked elsewhere, every itch was something burrowing, drilling, or swelling under my skin, thousands of them. Most were too tiny to see properly, only their works showed up, but some moved like fingers under my skin.

Only then did I look to my nipple, the to the place the dragonfly-thing had laid her egg. My nipple was bloated, bruised, shapeless. Under it the large larvae was a visible lump burrowing through tissue. I broke down and collapsed then, my mind just gave up the fight. I watched the bump move from nipple, upward, an intense burn, a bone deep ache. Blood leaked from milk glands, mixed with dark blue mucus. I was sobbing, I was screaming, I clawed my own skin open and found flesh infected with worms and shelled larva. My arms fell to my sides, I stared at my torn open breast in horror as the parasite wriggled deeper, away from the open air, into me. The stings continued endlessly, but I had no fight left.

Again the swarm vanished and I looked up to see another male scorpion-lizard. He approached cautiously and I didn’t move. His muzzle touched my swollen sex, which actually seemed bigger than before. I laid back, willing accomplice and spread my legs for him. Without hesitation, he mounted me. His penis was a jutting spear, plated and protected with only a soft white head exposed at the tip as it swelled open. He stabbed to into my co-opted vagina, up into my belly, and began to mate me, fast and brutal.

I wished I could have felt it, be thrust hard enough to push me back half a foot each time. My paunch swelled as he spent himself, the shiny flesh thinned and stretched before my eyes. He withdrew with a fast splash as his prick loosed a stream up stomach and chest, then fled the scene. I dragged my fingers through the orange semen, spread it across my mottled, bruised, worm-trailed skin, then licked them clean.

A second approached soon after the first was gone. I wanted more, I wanted to feel him spill his rotten-lemon load across my tongue and down my throat. So, I waited, patient. I waited as he approached, as he sniffed me, as he found my gall-like vagina, until he was poised to strike, then I moved. It was an easy deception, he couldn’t see below himself. I crab-walked down just as he thrust. That hard chitin spear with heart shaped head fell between my lips and hit the back of my throat. He didn’t seem to notice my deception, or care, but I realized an error. He hit my throat and didn’t stop. He was at least 900 pounds and used all of that hard, brutal mass to force feed me his spear like projection.

I had to toss my head back and lift myself up just so he didn’t punch through the back of my skull. He was like a dog in some ways, the moment his penetrated, his organs worked in over time to flood me. Every thrust was a mouth full, followed by a throat full of foul sour cum, as thick chewed gum. His length bottomed out in my belly, near three feet long, and both stretched and scraped my poor throat badly. The hard, scale like shell plates rasped and scraped, the acidic ejaculations burned like fire. I rose into the throws of orgasm then, as he slam-fucked my mouth, as he hurt me, as I drank his genetic gift, but I could only take so much. To my relief he was soon finished and my once empty stomach filled. The bleeding lips and scoured throat were not quite enough to make me regret choice, or my meal.

I suppose I must have found their territory, for they didn’t leave me alone long. I was however very thankful for the relief from the swarms. One by one they came to me, surrendered their life giving seed into my body, and left again. I watched my green paunch grow and stretch, it reached from ribs to thighs now, hard to the touch, like an overfilled tire. Below the glassy-translucent green skin, deep inside, I could see marble like beads on wispy vines, hundreds of them living inside me. Every ejaculation emptied into me, clouded the green for a while, until it cleared and more beads were visible. I had a whole colony of parasitic beauties living below my skin. It was like a terrarium, or an ant farm. Somehow the thought did not disgust me.

The fourth day, I woke to noise as something crashed through the brush. I looked up to see another big boy coming. I was thirsty, but he seemed so large, I feared what he might do to my poor, raw throat. So I crawled to my hands and knees and positioned myself for him. He jumped upon and closed his pincers on my neck and shoulder. Only then did I realize; she wasn’t a he. The potent orange slime spray-coated my back and rump and ran down my thighs and sides. I felt her soft, rubbery member as it tried to push through through the small of my back. I began to understand, the whole ecology started to come together. I imagine how it was supposed to work; spray down and weaken the chitinous shell, hold the prey in place until she can break through, lay a nest-egg in the wound, and call all the boys in to rape the wounded animal.

The acid itched and burned, but did not create an open wound for her. I let her hump and nudge for a while in hopes that she would lose interest, but she wouldn’t give up. I didn’t want another nest but she just didn’t go away. In the end, I yielded to her biological imperative. I raised my hips and pulled my cheeks open and relaxed my anus. She found the mark soon after, and it felt like she split me in two. Quietly I wailed, “I’ve only been here four days!” How was I to last a month, let alone two?

Rubbery sludge poured into my torn ass, glued my cheeks open, coated the interior of my colon, and began to open a pocket. I felt so desperately like I needed to shit, my bowels had never felt so full, even when Bob had used them! I squirmed, whimpered, and wailed in desperation until I felt the nest-egg bulge out her underbelly. “Oh fuck, oh-fuck oh-fuck!” I panted aloud as I realized just what I was in for.

My screams could be heard all the way in space, for sure, as that lump descended from her, forced my poor ruined sphincter apart, and my very pelvis—snapped. I’d never felt a bone break before, never experienced anything like it. I did now. Then she withdrew, my bowels sealed in gummy elastic resin, and the second nest had been planted. I wept myself sick and paid no attention as male after male came and serviced themselves in my flesh.

6 – Gravitas

I couldn’t move. My glassy stomach was too large to reach over to even frig myself, if I could have felt it. I had never been pregnant before, but I could sympathize with prehistoric women in the jungle. Not that any had ever met this jungle.

Sometime in the night, the first nest had started to hatch. I couldn’t see or feel it, but I could hear them popping and squishing around. The males never used that nest anymore, only one of my new ones. Oral or anal, it all ended up in the same place. I didn’t starve but each ‘meal’ was there came another dozen eggs.

My flesh still crawled and some larva had chewed their way free. I had watched my dragonfly birth into the world. My breast—now little more than a slushy sack of mucous and blood—had ruptured with a blood red and dark blue splatter. Then it emerged into the world, perched for a moment on my shoulder to dry before it flitted away. In some ways, it was beautiful, glossy blue-red, jewel like, with iridescent eyes. I had given birth to it, in the most traumatic of senses. It also horrified me deeply.

It was perhaps a month in when the second nest began to hatch. The marbles under my transparent skin burst, and thumb sized beetles crawled free into the watery nest of my body. They fed on wisps, other beetles and un-hatched eggs. They grew, they fought, and then… I painlessly split like an overripe melon. The survivors clawed at the vaginal entrance—if you could call it that—and chewed their way free. With a sour deluge, hundreds of survivors fled in all directions, most about the size of a fist. In their wake, my body cavity was an open shell, hollow, empty, discarded.

I was left alone... by the scorpion-lizards at least. My open torso was an open invitation to a mating frenzy for the swarms of smaller creatures. Silent and exhausted, waited for death, a death that was not going to be granted. That night as I felt my inner organs dissolve in the feeding frenzy of parasites, a ship descended. I was brought aboard, then blissfully rendered unconscious.

7 – No Relief

“You were commissioned for two months!” Bob declared with all four arms thrown wide,

“You are going back down. Another place to be sure, different species, different subjects elsewhere,” Bob told me firmly.

I’d been sterilized, healed, fed, and given time with Jessie, but my mind was not recovered. I snapped, “Why don’t you go down and spread your own legs for insects the size of horses!?”

He bubbled and scoffed, “I am no artist like yourself! I would not know the first thing about inter-species mating!”

“And I do? i have no idea what’s going to happen! Every second is hell.” I was sobbing by that point.

“You are Snow White, you are going back!” He told me and that was final, I knew it.

I spent another, final night in Jessie’s comforting coils, face first in his cloaca drinking his watery waste. He on the other hand spent the night pounding my head into the floor as hard as he could, both hemi-penis forced down my throat. I even managed to forget what was to come as he drained his cum down my gullet. Contrast, contrast is everything. I’d never felt such joy in that moment, after enduring such misery.

8 – Duty Bloody Duty

Grasslands. The fields rippled in wind blown waves upon rolling hills for as far as the eye could see. Once more I stood alone, naked and vulnerable before a world I was meant to submit to. I could only laugh as futile tears rolled down my cheeks. Then I sat down and awaited the inevitable.

There were no clouds of egg laying nats, flies, and what have you this time. There wasn’t much of anything in fact. Just the hot wind, the dry crunchy grass, and the occasional lumpy tree in the distance. Hours passed, the sun set, and I stared up at an unfamiliar sky. I wondered for a time which star was the sun, and earth was from here. Eventually I slept.

When I awoke with the greenish red dawn light, I was unharmed. Nothing bit me, nothing burrowed, nothing laid its offspring in me. My belly however, felt hollow, so I stood and set off toward one of those lumpy trees. It was the only thing that disrupted the rolling hills.

It was farther than expected and the tree much larger, but by noon I could make out the odd branches. Another hour and I took a rest, exhausted and still hungry. When my eyes opened it was near dusk and something flitted in and out from the distant tree like handful of bats. I resumed my approach, closer and closer, until they noticed me.

I noticed their notice, only when the chittering alarm reached my ears. Dozens more appeared from the branches and swooped high, then arrowed towards me. In the early twilight I could barely make out what looked like massive beetles. “Insects…” I sighed, but didn’t run, I would face what was coming. One month, just one month. “What ever will be, will be!” I reminded myself, then laid back in the scratchy grass with arms and legs spread. I smiled into the oncoming swarm.

They came, all a clatter wings and chitter of voice. They plucked at me with sharp feet, and I only flinched. One landed on my chest and knocked the wind from me. As I caught my breath, I looked back up into its wide odd face. No fangs on this one, just fat lips and sharp teeth. It was the size of a dog with a roach roach-like body and fish-like face.

No fangs, but with a wet pop and a splattering of moisture over my navel, a stinger sprang free and hinged from its rear. It looked deadly sharp and inside was a pale flaccid tube of wrinkled flesh. Strands of snot like mucus clung to it and webbed to the slot in which it had been hidden.

I whimpered in fear as the insect’s rear-end angled up and away, with the stinger like a poised dagger. Then it bucked forward and slammed its aft end down. The stinger struck just below my navel, and I watched in horror. As it sank through skin and muscle, I screamed. Noxious fluids pumped in as the puckered puncture bulged, and blood spurted out. Its whole abdomen clenched, throbbed, and pulsated above me in disturbing undulations, and with each pulse, the stinger disgorged its venom.

Vile green spread under my skin, like some sort of off-colored bruise. It burned like liquid fire, and muscles my went limp, control severed but not sensation. My anus gaped open, thighs went limp, even my fingers failed to twitch! I could barely even curse Bob with what little breath that remained to me, “You… fuck.”

The abdomen bared down hard, pulsed fiercely, and the wound tore wider as she began to lay. The fleshy tube bulged, fluid backed up behind it, and with each pulsation, with each buck and jerk, she forced her egg inside of me. With a final splattering gush, it was laid, and she lurched free. Another took her place atop of me, before I could recover. She in turn swiveled about, raised her abdomen over my head, then bucked down and stabbed by breast, the same breast from which the dragonfly had been born. I watched the egg descend—in incredibly close proximity—was a good five centimeters long and a third that in width. It was tapered at one end and round at the other, something like an almond. It was quite fascinating to witness, if only it wasn’t laid in my breast, and didn’t hurt so damn bad.

One by one, they laid their young in my body. i bled from a dozen wounds when they were finished and I felt slow, drugged, and witnessed bizarre hallucinated shapes in the dark. When at last they finished, I was dragged to the tree and wrenched bit by bit up into the branches.

As the sun rose, after an agonized night without sleep, a new horror awaited me. Those lumps in the branches were the misshapen, swollen bodies of dead animals. Huge cave like wounds gaped in their sides, from which the giant roaches emerged.

I was still only half affixed to the branch. Each came, spat a wad of rubbery snot, then smeared it into skin and tree. I was limp and helpless as a newborn, though I felt everything. The worst though, was not the wounds, not the venom, nor even my poor arms and legs; wrenched out of socket as they were pulled behind my back and attached to the branch. It was my head and how it hung, chin to chest, unable to be raised except as I breathed. It was that I could stare at the swollen bulges of each and every one of a dozen eggs laid in my body. One breast was near twice as large and hung low as it wept pus off its nipple. My stomach bulged grotesquely with too many welts to count.

They at least satisfied one discomfort, through a new discomfort. They began to feed me. It was sweet, whatever it was, and they fed me a lot of it. Each would come to me, press the tip of its abdomen to my face, and their back ends would evert from the chitin shells and slip far enough between my slack lips to get most of the slippery honey-sweet mess down my throat.

That night, I slept the sleep of the damned, horrible dreams and worse reality to wake to. By morning I was well encased in hardened epoxy like substance, and hung limp from the branch unaided. My chest, stomach, and head were the only exposed sections. After that, they left me alone for the most part, my only interaction was when it was time to feed.

I grew quickly bored—and fat. Day by day, I hung and ate, ate and hung. The stab wounds healed over, the eggs seemed inert. I hoped my biology was as toxic to them as their venom was to mine. My stomach was covered in stretch marks, my belly hung pendulous, I felt heavy, and only the resin and my dislocated limbs supported my expanding bulk. I was growing quite sick of sitting up too! Oh, to lay down…

My fantasy of biological incompatibility were dashed as I felt my breast jiggle. The egg was well and truly alive and prepared to hatch. My eyes took in the dark gaped holes in the dead animals and my old familiar friend, panic attack, reared its head. I don’t recall much of the rest of the day. When I awoke, all the eggs were more lively and the sun had just peeked over the horizon.

In that dawn light, an egg broke. Sharp teeth began within that minute, to chew upon my insides, I screamed myself hoarse and only stopped when a roach forced its honey tube down my throat to feed me. I watched its abdomen pulsate as it emptied into me, and felt two more eggs hatch. They did not eat much, and not fast, but it was endless.

Minute by minute, hour by hour, I was eaten alive. By evening bruised, blood filled hollows formed under each welt and became blisters, small but visible. By the next morning, the welts had grown to the size of quarters and occasionally I witnessed a pale white shape squirm through the bloody pool under my skin. Agony was my name, pure unfiltered agony. My vocal cords were shredded very quickly. A day passed and I started to look misshapen, huge swollen blisters cocooned the hatched insects. Another day and I started to feel light headed and disoriented. Another night, and Consciousness became a brief and confused affair, barely remaining long enough to know why I was in such pain.

8 – Stranger Danger

I woke screaming, feeling them crawl all over me...They weren’t. I was in Jessie’s lusty coils, pain free, and on the verge of climax… my scream became a moan, my moan choked off as I tensed and pleasure overruled thought. He released as well, and flooded me full of his ejaculate. Oh how I had missed this wonder, this bliss.

When he pulled free again to switch members, I squirmed about until I could catch him in my mouth. His familiar taste calmed my last nerve and I lost myself in his needs. I wanted to never leave that warm, womb-like embrace, full of sexy-foul flavors and smells. He was soon done with me though and I was left alone in the cold stark reality once more of my gray familiar prison. In desperation, I cleaned the entire cell of semen by tongue. I the sour filthy flavor kept the memory of his embrace alive.

Only after I’d finished, did I realize; Bob was watching me. Some time in my desperate and depraved antics, he had entered. Oh how I longed to edit his ugly face from existence! Oh, I would live to be rid of him!

“Ready?” He asked with that stupidly cheery voice from a mouth full of mush and slobber.

“…what now?” I asked in barely restrained terror.

He just winked at me in an exaggerated manner, “Time to go! Your next subject awaits!”

I wailed, “When do I get a vacation!?” He didn’t reply as I was placed in the pod, prepped, inoculated, then jettisoned toward an unknown world. He didn’t even tell me what kind of place it was this time, or what horror I would experience.

I landed, the pod folded open, and I stared out on a beach. I wondered what kind of trick this was. The breeze was cooling, the sand and sun were warm, the blue-green waters rolled with lazy waves. I could have loved it. I waited for the fifty foot insect with acid spitting barbed penis to find me. Any time now. Perhaps a fifty foot long reptile that devoured his mate and impregnated them internally before shitting them back out into the world. Something horrible, it was always something horrible.

Hours passed, calm and serene. Eventually, hunger urged me on and I rather quickly I found fruit full of tart-sweet juice to eat. That taken care of, I risked a swim and discovered the water to be warm and crystal clear. Night fell and I found a sky that blazed with stars. We had to be close to the center of the galaxy, I could not imagine starlight so bright anywhere else. I fell asleep under that brilliant light, content.

With no moon there was no tide. I woke dry and rested, un-harassed on the beach. I ate, I swam, I started to explore out of pure curiosity. It was a spit of land a few miles long with tall shrub vegetation. I eventually found a forest proper some miles down and slipped between ancient, woolly barked trees.

It was another world, full of small noisy creatures and odd undergrowths. Nothing flew, nothing attacked, and almost nothing left the safety of the trees. I felt like a zoologist for once, not a party favor tossed to the crowd.

I tried eating some nuts, but they were rather woody and bitter. I found some seeds, and they were better. I made sure to chew them well; I remembered those vines in my gut all too vividly. I drank from a brook, I rested for a time at its bank and wondered what my subject was. Eventually I roused myself and followed the brook upstream. All creatures needed water, it was reasonable to expect to run across something.

When night fell again, I rested in the roots of one of those fuzzy trees. The wool was quite soft, no wonder the animals lived in them. I woke with a start not too much later, with two luminescent eyes staring at me in the dark. It was well before morning and I could only see those eyes and a silhouette against the stars in the trees. Then it was gone and I was left with a thundering heart and a thousand questions. I was relieved that it didn’t just rape me like a beast… this was a gentler world.

When morning came I took some time to search for tracks but found nothing. Not that I was much of a tracker. I did however feel uneasy, perhaps it watched me from the trees, probably from the canopy. I thought about climbing but one close look at those sheer straight brown trunks changed my mind.

The brook became a trickle as the land grew hilly, but the forest didn’t let up. There was only one type of tree but thousands of bushes, vines and ferns. Some I found quite edible. I had to wonder what Bob had done to my digestive system that I didn’t just up and die on the spot. I’d probably die to heavy metal poisoning or carcinogens twenty years down the road however.

I decided to rest on a tumble of boulders that cut through by water. It had been a long hike and I didn’t know where I was going or what I was doing. It really was like a vacation. For the longest time I watched the light shift in the trees as the sun set and was quite ready to make myself at home. It was as usual, not to be, my desires were never met at face value.

It wasn’t so much a sound that alerted me, but a lack of sound, a deadened spot in the audioscape behind me. I turned to see a massive creature just sitting there behind me, calm as a cat. Somehow it had snuck right up on me and only its sound-muffed furry shape had warned me. I was about ready to either panic, spread my legs, or run, but then it spoke. Not that I understood its words, I just knew it was language. There was structure, repeated syllable patterns.

“Er, Hi!” I said, raised a hand, and wiggled my fingers. Two teardrop shaped eyes focused on me, a split hinged jaw parted to reveal omnivorous teeth in a trefoil mouth. He, I reasoned—but reserved the option to change my judgment—he looked like a six legged cat sitting on his haunches with the two upper legs—or arms, with deft hands. Ears and tail were wrong though. Looked like rabbit ears and he had a wide flat lizard-like tail. His fur was panther black and soft as down, or so it looked from where I sat.

He scooted closer, a movement not unlike a stalking cat ready to pounce… at least in his aft section, his fore section seemed like a stone faced chieftain staring at an unwanted guest. I offered him a berry from my collected pile. He took it, looked it over, then ate it. I smiled, He… made no expression.

So there we sat as we stared at one another and spoke nonsense. He was oddly friendly—I think—and so was I. There we remained, while the sun set. When the sun rose again I found myself tucked face first in to his side. He was rather large and smelled nice. We’d had no sex though, I was strangely relieved, not everything had to be… yeah.

I wiped the sleep from my eyes and recovered my sense of dignity I’d lost somewhere along the way. Careful and quiet, I slipped out of his tangle of limbs. I relieved myself, an actual bowel movement for the first time in forever. Then I took a quick wash in the brook and scrounged up something tasty to eat. There were plenty of edible berries and fruits, some tasty fern-like plants, and a handful of seeds—that made breakfast. I had just thrown back the last handful when I discovered noticed his presence, how long he had watched me, I could not say but his gaze held such a deep intensity. I looked away first.

At last, he pointed toward the morning sun, said something, then moved in that direction. I followed without hesitation while my eyes followed his hypnotically swaying body and tail. It was a pleasure just to watch him walk! We didn’t follow the stream, nor even the sun as I first thought, but some trail only he could see. By noon we were again at the beach… or a beach somewhere.

It was so strange to discover another sentient alien beyond Bob. I’d not thought much about it, but obviously there were others of his species, and if there were two species, there had to be more, right? My dark mysterious companion it turned out, he didn’t just speak and think, he was also a tool user, his skiff was a piece of master craftsmanship. Craftsalienship? It was woven reeds, sealed with some waxy grease, a few carved branches, and a rolled up sail of tree fur cloth. There were also a few earthenware jars of fresh water, some dried foods, and a leather tarp.

While he busied himself I inspected the vessel, it was an admirable construction. The branches were shaped well and carved in odd designs. The reeds were woven so tight I doubted it even needed the wax. The water jugs had been shaped, etched, then fired under high heat. I was impressed, it was all much better than I could have ever done, even after my pottery class!

Aloud I announced, “Doctor Betty Livingston! Xenobiologist, deep under cover on an alien world in the care of a native!” I giggled, then stopped at mister native’s stony gaze. “Buzzkill,” I muttered. He offered me a hand. I took it and was lifted into the bed of the skiff.

I watched him a time as he stroked himself with his tail, slicking down his fur. Before long he looked as sleek as a dolphin with legs. Sudden vivid memories surfaced, and I felt myself moisten. He certainly was a handsome beast… No, man, a handsome man. He was more of a gentleman than most I knew, not a beast at all.

Once finished, he pushed the boat off the beach and into the water. He swam for a time and used his flat tail to propel himself and the craft out to deep water. Then he dived, corkscrewed, and surfaced with a splash to land upon the boat’s branches. He had cat like grace on land, dolphin grace at sea. Best of all, he didn’t even rock the boat! I was helpless to resist such beauty and grace, that moistened sex became a continuous dribble and involuntary clench. I did manage to resist the urge to masturbate in front of him! For some reason, for the first time in my life, I wanted to impress someone.

Everything about him and his vessel was simply too big. I had to stand to look over the edge, it made me feel like a child peering over the counter. He was big too, on all six, he still stood taller than me, if he sat or stood on all four, he towered. So I stayed out of his way as he moved about, trimmed the sail, steered and used the paddles as needed. I was cargo it seemed and he paid me no mind.

Whatever he slicked his fur with, he came from the water dry. Maybe the sealing wax was organic and used on fur. I touched him timidly and found a hard shell of black fur over down. He jerked and spun to stare at me, his pose relaxed and he returned to his ropes.

Sunset found us so far from the coast I couldn’t find it. I knew none of the stars, so I didn’t even know where we were heading. Not that it really mattered. Bob would find me where ever I was. That thought rang bitter and I suddenly wanted desperately to stay forever.

My native’s hand came to rest on my shoulder and I looked up at him. He was staring at me with those faintly glowing eyes again. I wondered what he thought I was; maybe a tasty snack or odd hairless pet. Neither option bothered me really, I’d thought of suicide hundreds of times since meeting Bob; I’d take satisfaction in that end, to feed this handsome gentleman was almost pleasure.

I pressed myself against him and his now shell hard fur, I missed the softness. He folded his hands over me, almost as if he meant to comfort me. I could have used the comfort to be sure, I’d not had much in the past few years, under Bob, or in prison… or even from asshole.

Sunrise came and I didn’t recall falling to sleep. I was curled under the leather tarp at the front of the boat. When I stuck my head out, he was nowhere to be found. He returned sometime later, a graceful explosion from the water to land in the boat. In his mouth and all six paws, long fish struggled.

He sat to eat one and pushed two toward me. I’d never much cared for sushi, raw fish or no… I was hungry though. So I watched what he did for a time, then tried to do the same. The scales were long and hair-like, they didn’t pluck either. I didn’t have the claws to gut the fish, nor teeth suited to ripping the skin off. I pushed the traumatized but still live fish back.

The half eaten carcass of the one he had been working on landed on deck before me as I curled up on the tarp. I stared at it, blue with blood, gnawed on. It took some doing to work up the will, but I finally tried it. The flesh was sweet and salty, a bit oily, but I wasn’t watching my weight. I wanted to try cooking it… not on a grass boat though!

9 – Going Home

We were at sea for seventeen days. By the end I’d lost any distaste for fish and figured out how to eat them on my own. I’d also started dreaming of my handsome captain, very vivid and violent dreams where he’d eat me like one of his fish with his strange and rather terrifying three jawed mouth. He never once let his mask of quiet poise fall though.

I’d begun to read him some. His face was an unreadable mask, but his body… His body said volumes. Every sway of his hips, flick of his tail, or shift of a paw held meaning. I’d started copying some of his mannerisms accidentally and every time it drew his gaze like a magnet. He still spoke on occasion but I couldn’t put meaning to it and he didn’t help much. I became a near mute, not even talking to myself.

So as I said, our voyage ended as all must. We came in sight of land and he started to twitch with excitement. I peered over the edge to see tall white capped mountains with forested hills and a slash of white beach. One beach was much like another, but those mountains interested me some. Snow was not something I had seen in such a long time.

He steered us in and dragged the boat ashore. Then he spent some time rolling in the sand until his fur fluffed out smooth again. I couldn’t help giggling at the sight, it was downright adorable. While he was distracted, I managed to climb my own way out of the boat, and felt proud of myself. I didn’t need his help for everything!

First thing first though, I felt gross after over two weeks in a boat! I went for a quick swim in the cooler water of the cove, and scrubbed my skin raw with the powdery sand below the waves. However, as I came back onto the beach noticed him, still as a stone, staring at me. I’d come to think of the pose as fear or surprise. I wiggled at him in some meaningless gesture, and wrung my hair out. He eventually dismissed my antics and I went hunting for edibles. Fish was good, but I wanted something different.

He found me a time later, my face full of berries. I offered him a handful with a red berry juice stained grin. He took them with a side-to-side paw gesture of his free hand, and ate them. I hoped it meant ‘thank you’ not ‘oh god! more berries?’ With another gesture, he lead me into the forest and to a well traveled trail. Even I could follow it and so moved up to walk at his side.

I’d spent months, or even years alone, or in the company of only one other. Bob, for instance, or my old cell mate, and now this strange handsome alien. So when suddenly we weren’t, I did not know how to respond. Other of his kind slipped or crashed from the trees. Many were as graceful as a dog chasing a ball on ice. It struck me that he was special in some way. I pressed so close to him, he stumbled as one of his rear legs got tangled in mine. He steadied himself and, well you could only describe it as a possessive clutch as he held me.

You could say I was introduced. Words were said, people gestured at, then we moved on. I just stared, wide eyed and shy, glued to his side. Though they spanned many sizes, only the children could be considered small. They were also uniformly black furred, though eyes ranged from green to silver and sometimes a hint of yellow. I only knew my friend by his poise, his movements were more distinct than any facial feature or coloration. I started calling him Twinkle Paws, then moved on to Sir Grace. Twinkle Paws was just too embarrassing for someone as noble as he!

The trail was long and it didn’t end at night fall. My feet by then were well past sore, though I was quite used to walking barefoot. The road was simply rocky and uneven. Still, Sir Grace showed no signs of tiring so I made no complaints and followed his tail. He might have walked all night and day for all I knew, I never saw him sleep. My stumbling footsteps must have told him the truth however. At his behest, we stopped and I curled up in his embrace by the side of the road and fell fast asleep.

More walking awaited me come morning, as well as a few handfuls of berries he collected while I slept. The people we met now seemed to know him, they brushed along side, dragged fingers through back fur, and occasionally flicked his hip with the side of a tail. A few even went so far as to stroke my tangled hair. I endured the contact willingly, watched the interactions, and attempted to mimic. My inner Xenobiologist was proud.

We wound through steep hills and forded ice cold rivers. Sir Grace always oiled up his fur before touching the water, so the last half of the trip, he was quite a bit less fuzzy and snuggly. Still, he always welcomed my touch and I tried to mimic the ways others addressed him.

Then we turned off the road and he lead me into a dark, quiet forest of immensely old trees. He seemed to know his way and even met people that he initiated contact with. They all watched me curiously and one even dared to touch my bare skin about my shoulder, that contact didn’t last long and the poor creature looked down right spooked. A few words from Sir Grace and the daredevil left at a fast clip.

At last we arrived home. There was no mistake. It was a dugout hillside with stone work pillars and braces to hold ceiling and walls up. The moment Sir Grace entered, his stiff formal posture shifted to the loping sway of joy I knew so well.

There were a dozen rooms, some stocked with food, others could be workshops, but the one we stopped at was a living chamber. Two others were inside, lounging and -- I suppose talking. They leaped up as Sir Grace entered and swarmed him. For a time they tumbled, they rubbed, they even bit his flanks. He swatted them to stillness.

It was only then that they noticed the bizarre furless being; me. I shifted excitedly and stepped from him toward the two. They were children I reasoned, as playful as they seemed. The two fell over themselves backpedaling away from my advance. I couldn’t help but giggle.

Sir Grace barked something and they scrambled up. His hand at the small of my back urged me forward. This time they stood stock still, still as a stone, still as death. I rubbed their sides, nudged their hips, and felt them tense as if to flee. I tugged ones ear down and whispered into it, “Boo!” the poor kid hollered and booked it from the room. I bent double laughing and noticed Sir Grace’s amused wiggle.

10 - Surrender

The kids quickly acclimated to me, Sir Grace was content, and I was interested in everything. Days became weeks, weeks became months, and the weather started to shift. Most of the days were spent gathering food, curing food, storing food in grass bundles, or playing. I was surprisingly good at hunting, the animals didn’t know what I was.

Then snow started to fall and I just couldn’t endure the chill on my bare skin. I made some crude wraps from the tree fur cloth and foot wraps from some odd scraps of leather...But it wasn’t enough. Day after day it got colder. Then one day, another came to call, not a child, but an adult that seemed quite familiar with Sir Grace. She, I decided, had some words with him, raised words. I stared from where I sat, huddled in a bundle of makeshift blankets. He gestured at me, she shouted, she gestured at me. I don’t think I’d ever felt so confused or insecure! Then, to my shock Sir Grace stepped back and simply shifted a bolder over the entrance. I’d seen it there, just a giant rock half embedded in the wall, but I’d never realized; it was a door. He had shut the door in her face, over me.

After that, they settled in for winter, and by that I mean, they gorged themselves. Whole bushels of food filled their bellies and an entire store room was emptied in one day. Then the kids snuggled together and began to smooth down their fur with tails. I watched as their backs were done, sides, heads, legs. Then they laid belly to belly and wiggled to get comfortable. Their intertwined legs were fused with wax, they were one tightly tucked black wad. I circled them, and that was when I noticed it wasn’t just snuggling.

Under their tails, pale blue flesh had been exposed and was swelling into one another. “Hibernation and reproduction,” I mused, then pouted as their tails came together and blocked the sight.

Sir Grace continued to eat into the next day, then came into the family room. I was huddled near the kids, wrapped in every scrap of cloth I could find. He looked at me with obvious agitation and I looked back. “Is this why I am here?” I asked him, “to mate with you though the winter?” One problem however, I couldn’t hibernate. I’d had so many demented dreams of him, so many horror-fantasies. But I’d not dreamed that I’d… well, I really didn’t even know. Would I freeze? Would I starve? Would I suffocate? I decided I didn’t care.

He held his arms out to me, and I settled in to share his warmth, my shivering at last stopped. Timidly I tucked a hand between his rear legs to find the smooth dry fold of skin that hid his genitals. Now that I knew what to look for, now that I knew where to touch. He trembled and looked back at me, I gestured everything was fine, I think. With an alien equivalent of a shrug he started to slick his fur down to hibernate while I lay within the shelter of his six limbs.

His belly swelled against me, fat and full with each breath, I snuggled into it to nap. It took him some time, unlike swimming, he put on five coats to insulate himself. I was half asleep when he rolled over and pulled me on top; I sat up. He was looking at me again. Something important, something he wanted me to do? I rubbed my face and looked back, then around and behind.

There it was, behind me a knotted spire rose from his genital pouch, three knots. The smooth phallus curved forward like half of a crescent moon. It stood long enough to shame a stallion and at the knots, thick enough to make me wince. I nodded to him, then gestured “thank you” and stood up. He didn’t seem to understand, but that didn’t matter.

The room was deathly cold, I could see my breath, and I wanted nothing more than to collapse into a warm little ball. I looked down at him and grabbed my clothes, then tossed them aside, my nipples stood out like little diamonds, my skin prickled with goosebumps, and I started to shiver again, I wasted no more time.

His member was dry and stiff, it felt papery against my fingers, I guided it between my legs and squatted down, He felt burning hot against my chilled flesh. He was so big, and it was so awkward to position myself. But the thought of what I was about to do, to surrender to! I was wet enough for both of us! I sat. The first knot entered without trouble, the second hurt, the size of a softball. The third, I gasped and screwed my eyes shut as it stretched my vulva to the brink of splitting. It was “football in the cooter” all over again! I bounced and felt him bump against my cervical sphincter deep inside.

I tried again and again, it hurt, oh how did it hurt! But I couldn’t, just couldn’t force him in. He at last took over and rolled atop. Six legs folded about me tight. Pinned under him, enveloped in warmth and with an edge of panic… he used this leverage to force the last knot into place. I choked down a sob as skin split and my inner sphincter was forced open, then forced again to accommodate his first knot! But in time, the pain passed as my body relaxed. He fit in me, barely. Every breath I took, was a desperate shock of pain that soon faded. Blood ran between my cheeks, but not enough to endanger me. He held me, I clutched him in desperation, and that tail began to sweep over us both.

The underside had hundreds of oily glands that left a smear of wax over everything it touched. It felt like quick drying glue on my skin. One coat, and I couldn’t move, glued fast to him. Two coats and the cold air no longer seemed to reach me. Then hour by hour, more coats were soaked in, hardened, smoothed. I could see, barely, through a blurred window of fur and wax. Then his tail burrowed in and closed me into darkness. His breathing slowed, his heart slowed, his body cooled (though still warm enough for me.)

I had fallen asleep and resigned myself for god knows how long in one place. Boredom would drive me batty, I was sure. It was better than freezing to death, through starvation wasn’t much better. I drifted between asleep and awake, dreams and fantasies. Time crawled in agonized increments. Then I woke fully, suddenly, as liquid heat poured from him, up his knotted member, and filled my belly. My hunger was satisfied in seconds, directly, and the throb of his penis sent a lusty thrill up my spine.

Six times a day, like clockwork; Sir Grace’s penis twitched and pulsed, then ejaculated into me. Even Jessie with his coils and desperate lust had never felt so close as this. I grudgingly thanked Bob for his unwanted modification, else I would have starve. But more than that, I felt intimately connected to this alien and never wanted to let go. Maybe I was clingy? I would have plenty of time to think about it—and anything else for that matter.

I slept, I woke, usually when he came in me; I fantasized, I planned, I forgot. One day blurred into another, I wasn’t as bored as I had feared. The worst was a persistent scalp itch, I really wanted to wash my hair. Other pains, other aches, other itches came and went. I existed, but not as a person, not really. Most of the time I could ignore my body entirely; only a mind connected distantly, and of course, six times per day—a vagina to be filled wonderfully.

11 - Awakened

He moved. He moved and I felt all the terrible aches and pains come to the forefront of my mind. I weakly moved in response, and felt muscles—months unused—cry out and cramp. Wax cracked and crumbled, I crawled—or tried to. The knot in my belly pulled me up short. I rubbed my eyes, felt cool but not harsh-frozen air against my skin, and laid limp.

It took me the longest time to build up the strength to move again with Sir Grace sprawled on top and his shaft wedged inside me, there wasn’t anywhere to go really. I concentrated on working life back into my limbs. It was a slow, agonizing process, but he hadn’t fully awakened yet so I had time. Lots and lots of time, but I was free enough to stretch, free enough to remember how to be a body.

He moved again, much later. In the middle of one of his orgasms, as he fed and satisfied my deepest need. But I was really quite ready to get up! I jabbed an elbow limply in his empty belly a few times to awaken him. It took a few more tries before he managed to fully come out of it. When he did come to, he sat up carelessly onto all fours and pinned me under his hips. The movement stirred his spire in my depths and made my belly jostle pleasantly. Then he remembered me, looked down, and we started at one another with strange amused understanding. I had survived the winter.

He shifted his hips, my hips were dragged about with his. He yawned, he unloaded a last tremendous rush of semen, filled me to the brim, I had to swallow against my rising gorge and clench against my twitching bowels. Then he pulled himself out. He did it carelessly, half asleep, and far too fast. I stared down over my gravid stomach, and watched his pale blue spire spring free. A gurgle was followed by a gush, and a puddle formed under my rear… but my belly only shrank and inch.

He abruptly departed, and I was left there in a sticky mess. The intense smell of his seed was both familiar and strange. Mingled with digestive enzymes and my own fluids. I suddenly very much wanted to kneel under him and bathe in his font! For the first time in months, or hell, years for all I knew, I stretched out fully and began to masturbate. I squirmed about, like a dog in mud, coated myself head to toe in the mingled fluids, and just reveled in the freedom of my limbs! I came twice, loud and joyously, so happy to be alive.

When I recovered my sense of propriety and decency, I gave standing an attempt. That did not work so well, so instead I crawled on all fours. I stretched again, found my limbs sickly and frail. I could practically see my bones under papery skin. Near by, the kids were still locked together asleep, and I left them alone. There were other, more desperate needs I had to attend to! I followed Sir Grace shortly and found him gorging himself on cured meat. I nibbled, not nearly as starved, but oh how I had missed the simple act of chewing.

Time passed, I napped and woke, stronger. I ate more. He was no where to be found, but the front door was open and outside had become a world of melting snow. With unbridled bliss, I washed myself until numb in the icy runoff, scrubbed my matted hair, and voided myself properly. Refreshed and renewed, I went seeking my lover. His tracks were easy to follow this time, deep snow made it so. I found him cleaning himself by a river, the first time I saw him touch water without wax on.

He gently bumped me in greeting and I returned it, then sat to watch him. Clumps of fur fell away, still caked in wax. The new undercoat was glossy smooth and thin. My butt got cold, so I stood and started toward the house. He stopped me with a touch and ran his fingers over the swell of my belly, to that I shrugged. Then continued back, hungry already.

The next morning the kids awoke, both were gravid with pregnancy and I began to rethink Sir Grace’s sex. I also began to rethink my own belly. At first I figured it was just...stuff inside. Then I thought I’d gotten fat… but the rest of my body did not match; skin and bones you see. That morning I knew otherwise as I felt it move, a soft series of kicks just below my navel. Impossible, utterly incomprehensible, but something was alive inside of me! The gamut of emotions that rolled through me, the thoughts, terrors, and fantasies I had before I realized the truth. It was just another example of parasitism. Whatever biology Sir Grace had, he had not actually impregnated me with mingled DNA, that was just crazy. That settled in my mind, I returned to living a joy filled carefree life.

I was now just another part of the family, accepted. I slept tucked between Grace and the kids, I awoke tangled in awkward piles. I hunted, I picked spring berries, I learned to weave. I was also madly in love with Grace. To the best of my knowledge, he held some sort of great affection for me, as well.

Spring was long and difficult. Food was scarce and the weather perilous. More than once I had to flee home through a sudden blizzard or fall asleep hungry. But no difficulty prepared me for what was to come. One morning, I woke in pain. The pregnancy was a squirming, turbulent burden by this point, and now it had starting to hurt. By late afternoon I was sweat slicked and hoarse from crying. Sir Grace was beside himself with concern, but helpless to do anything for me. The next morning, our twins were born.

My world was shaken to its very foundations that morning. They looked much like their father, six limbs, furry, treble jaw and almond shaped eyes. They were also blond furred and blue eyed like me, something I had never seen in any of the other natives, and they cried lustily just like any healthy baby—human baby. They also nursed, rather early too. There was no question in their father’s astonished expression—facial expression of all things—our children were of mixed heritage. The impossible, had happened. As those two impossible alien angles slept in my arms for the first time, I knew, no force on Earth could ever make me go.

Two days later, a force not of Earth arrived to take me away. The whole community was aroused by the arrival. The roar and booms of its descent could have woken the mountains. The pod landed outside in a small clearing, and opened to admit me. My heart beat like mad, my gut clenched in terror, and my mind raced with the edges of a panic attack. But I stood my ground and shouted at it, “NO! I’m done Bob! No more commissions, no more—you!” I then stomped away while Grace stared at it with obvious trepidation.

Some hours after that another, larger craft approached. Grace and I went out to meet it. Bob was there in person, wrinkled and ugly as ever and standing in the hatchway. “Come along Snow White! Time to go, vacation over,” He said with a false smile. His body language suggested agitation and fear.

“No! Leave me alone,” I snarled in anger and panic. Behind me in Sir Grace’s arms, the angels woke and began to cry. I took them from him and clutched them, close.

“You can not stay, you got tied up with the wrong subject. They… they are bad people.” His agitation grew.

“No,” I said firmly. Something was going on, something important. “What are you so afraid of? Go find someone else to torture! I’m done!” Instead of responding, he rushed forward and grabbed me by the wrist, a child began to slip. Panic clutched my heart as I clutched my angels tighter, “H-hey, careful!” He began to drag me toward the drop ship. I felt tears welling and looked back to Grace, pleading silently for help.

He nodded, a learned human gesture, then leaped forward, over us both and between Bob and the ship. He spoke—or barked—gestured firmly, then stomped once. Bob squelched something in rage that hurt my ears, while his fingers crushed on the fragile bones of my wrist. He tried to drag me around the angry Grace, I dug in my heels. Grace moved again, to remain between us and the ship.

Bob, dumb as he could possibly be, tired to kick the giant angry hexapod. There followed a blur of motion, a series of sharp reports, and Bob’s fingers spasmed and let go. He was on the ground, his back legs limp, his upper arms dislocated, and making a horrific squealing sound. Grace said something, then turned to me. He touched everywhere as if to make sure I was alright. Then he checked the children in turn.

Bob, in a haze of pain begged, “Help me, Betty, get me back to the ship.”

“Oh you can’t take a little pain?” I asked in disgust. I handed the angels back to Grace and circled around to the fallen alien. I felt only disgust and hatred for the scumbag. The look in his eyes, possessive, terrified, and entirely unsympathetic, it just burned the last thread between us. In violence I’d never before awakened, I stomped down on his foul crotch. My heel connected with one of his gonads. There was a wet gush as it ruptured and sprayed knotted ropes across the snow. Though Grace had paralyzed him, and he couldn’t feel it—his shattered genital sack was enough to break him. His mouth gaped and he cried out in soul deep horror.

12 - Epilogue

Sector Patrol arrived within weeks of Grace’s call. I wasn’t sure what was going on when he ran into the shuttle and started messing with the controls; but I suddenly had a much greater appreciation for his level of expertise when he made it work.

They came in six ships, each large enough to dwarf the largest tree. They hovered overhead with a throbbing hum that shook the skull and spooked every animal from its tree. In all my time working for Bob, I’d never seen a spaceship proper. Sure, a drop pod or the shuttle bob had come down in, and sure I’d lived inside one for months, but it wasn’t the same as witnessing one hover over your home.

We had kept bob as comfortable as could be, mostly to silence his whining, but he was well fed, healthy and hale. This time I said it right when they asked me, “Did he force you?”

“Yes!” I sobbed and clung to Grace’s thigh… well, actually, his name was Dimipethe, but I still thought of him as Grace. Also he wasn’t really a he, but I’m just a simple human; Mylth biology is just too confusing to me.

There was the question of how I had bared Grace’s children, a quick check confirmed we shared some ancient DNA, but any zoophile knew, one species couldn’t breed with another and we were as in different Phylums at the very least! It was just a screwed up and wonderful mystery. I was simply happy to be a mother and Grace was… well, he was content; especially after I showed him some human tricks to use out of season… More than content.

The patrol didn’t know what to do with Jessie, so they left him with me. At my request, they did adjust his cycle to ordinary snake. No sense in him being that horny all the time. He still woke me up a few times a week, but that… that was tolerable.

As for asshole number two? I should think he is doing twenty five to life for kidnapping and biosphere contamination. Those contracts? Illegal porn. How did I always end up with the worst scum of the universe? Well, except Dimipethe, as far as I could tell, he had only honest well intentioned uses for me… To my depraved regret!

END

03/25/2019

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