by MJ Lyons
But that’s not my memory . . .
I snap to, realizing the substance has crept over my fingers and is tugging me in. I give a cautious pull, but this just encourages the substance to wrap onyx tendrils up my arms. They slide underneath my bodysuit, writhing, sensual, like a lover’s hands exploring.
This was not in the xeno-biology lab’s reports . . .
“VIA?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even.
“It would appear the substance is exhibiting some signs of prehensility, perhaps even a crude sentience. I am attempting to study the exhibited reactions. Stand by.”
I swear I can hear some snickering over the line in my earpiece, but I put this down to the waves of mnemonic experience washing over my mind. The scenes of intimacy and lasciviousness are partially shadowed, half-remembered, but play out in my mind’s eye one by one, bare limbs and bite marks, innocent eyes glancing up from frenzied fellatio, fingers grasping two cocks pressed together, stroking them, echoes of animal groans and grunts, a hand pressed against a back, pushing the face down into a pillow.
There’s a small hiss and I realize the substance has managed to unseal my boots and lifts me out of them, leaving them behind. Tendrils wrap around my bare ankles and wriggle under the leg holes of body suit.
“VIA?!” I gasp out as one of the tendrils pushes up past my knee, brushing between the fabric of my bodysuit and my thigh, all the more frightening because it’s warm and tender, and not unpleasant.
A titillated giggling rings out in my earpiece, “I was going to see if I could lend a hand, but looks like you’re all tied up with your work.”
“Goddamnit Zhang!” I growl as the first tendril continues up my leg and brushes over my boy hole. I struggle to suppress a moan, and struggle even harder to suppress the memory of the smuggler as his face is projected from my suit’s comm line.
Of course this is Tommy Zhang’s doing, the smuggler, thief and degenerate is the entire reason I’m out in the ass end of the sector. Of course it wasn’t a coincidence I found a substance so closely matching what he stole from the xeno-biology labs of Capital 03.
Zhang’s lopsided, boyish grin, his dark, mischievous eyes, float in front of me, he has a few days of patchy stubble, but the smuggler couldn’t grow a beard to save his life. My eyes dance around the screen and I realize he’s on the bridge of his ship, the Scarlet Acacia, his crew gazing on from the background. Two odd, glowing amber eyes peer at me from above his shoulder out of a spot of shadow, but I realize it’s his cat, a mascot of the Acacia, jet black against the captain seat’s upholstery. He reaches up and gives the cat an affectionate stroke. The cat responds by lovingly gnawing and clawing at his hand.
There’s a terrible tearing noise from below as the substance slices through both my bodysuit and EV suit like a utility cutter through sheet metal, up to my knees. The substance can apparently form and reform in an instance, as soft as skin or as hard as diamonds. It’s tearing my clothes off me and, perversely, I’m more horrified from the threat of being exhibited in full view of Zhang’s band of miscreants as opposed to being touched and teased by an amorous, amorphous possibly dangerous alien substance.
There are hoots and whistles as the substance does the same to my suit’s arms, up to my shoulders. The material cuts and falls away, the warm breeze suddenly on my arms and legs. The substance continues to work its way underneath my bodysuit, and knowledgeably runs over my clit, stroking my growth from more than a decade of testosterone. Despite my best efforts, my clit twitches in appreciation as another tendril finds its way and begins to run over the lips of my boy bits. More tendrils begin to caress the sensitive spots on my neck, through my hair, over my ass, squeezing, prodding, teasing. I writhe under the administrations but do my best to keep a poker face since, at the moment I hope, Zhang’s crew can’t see below my shoulders.
“What the hell is this, Zhang? What did you do to make this . . . this . . . ”
“Horny goop?” Zhang asks, and his crew hoots and trades insults with one another. He takes on a contrite, wide-eyed innocent look on his face that I know is entirely feigned. “I discovered it sort of by . . . accident. After taking it from stasis we noticed it was growing, so we had to transfer it to a larger container. It sloshed and when it touched my skin it . . . well . . . ” his devilish grin reappeared as he angles the camera downward, but I jerk my head, forcing his view back up to my face.
VIA’s voice chimes in, “My observations are consistent with this crude assessment,” my Virtual Intelligence Assistant explains as the cutting appendages begin to work at the material hanging off my shoulders and legs. “Reactions appear to be based on pheromonal and neurological responses, this being acts on pheromonal reaction and tests responses in brain spots, specifically the hedonic—”
“I get the idea, VIA!” I cry out as a tentative, thick appendage teases my front hole before disappearing back into the amorphous tendrils holding me. “How do I . . . mmm . . . get out?!”
More whistles as the fabric of my suit falls away from my shoulders, tendrils of obsidian massaging my shoulders, running over my nipples. Zhang gives an apologetic grin, “I’m going to guess the way your VIA would put it is . . . take things through to their logical conclusion?”
“Correct.”
“That’s what you did, huh boss? You had a few conclusions before you made us jettison it!” a voice calls out from the Acacia’s bridge, and Zhang swears at the crew-member good-naturedly as the rest egg him on.
“VIA, I need an intervention!” I cry as a slightly thicker appendage presses against my front hole.
“I’m afraid there’s little I can do at the moment, Hy,” VIA replies. “My observations classify this being as sentient under Science Authority guidelines until further study, so that would contravene my directive for upholding all life. Unless the being begins to harm you . . . ”
“Holding me against my will isn’t harming me?!”
There’s a moment’s pause as Zhang raises an eyebrow on the projection in front of me. VIA responds, “Based on your physiological reaction and the being’s treatment of you, it would not hold you against your will. This is consistent with your psychosexual profile, specifically a predilection for bonda—”
Zhang nods at his crew knowingly. “Enough!” I gasp as the appendage pushes into me, then retreats, but only momentarily. I . . . suppose that’s technically correct. As perverse as it was to admit to myself, I was less anxious about the prehensile entity as I was Zhang’s involvement . . . and the idea of him getting away again. “Can you shoot down the Scarlet Acacia?” I ask, furious. Tommy assumes a hurt expression as his crew laughs around him.
“That contravenes my directive for upholding all life,” VIA responds. “Further, the Scarlet Acacia is not in orbit of Gargara-5.”
“We’re set down just over the ridge, actually,” Tommy offers, again trying to angle down the screen. “The horny goop got a little . . . out of hand in our engine room, before we jettisoned it. We’ve been stuck for a couple of days, but we should be good to go any minute now, right guys?”
No one seems willing to answer as they watch me squirm. I suppose it’s not often a crew of horny degenerates gets to watch a cute trans guy get fucked by an alien of unknown origin.
“VIA, block this connection, I’ve had enough of this shit,” I spit as the tendril pushes into me once again, impaling me as it holds me upright. If I’m going to get screwed by this thing until it’s had its fill of me, I’m certainly not going to give Tommy Zhang a free show.
“Wait! Hy!” he calls out, and I have VIA reopen the channel. “Listen, I know you have no reason to trust me, especially after what I did during the Februa on New Houston. You know, when I—”
“VIA . . . ”
“Wait! I can help you! I’ll come down, just me, no crew, no cameras,” there’s a disappointed groan from around him. “I swear on th
e hull integrity of the Scarlet Acacia, I’ll get you out of this.”
“Fine,” the tendril pushes into me once again and I gasp as it stretches me, two others pulling my legs apart to give it better access to my boy bits. “Just . . . ha . . . hurry . . . ”
As the alien being began to fuck me, slow, lifting me off the ground and pulling me down gently—but not leniently—onto the thick length underneath me a shadow of memory flits in front of my eyes. The Februa on New Houston, I watch from afar as my friends and I run naked through the streets, whipping outstretched hands with strips of goatskin, grinning and laughing like mad. An Old World fertility rite resurrected in the new colonies.
I watch it all from his perspective; he’s waiting at the end of the course through the city, leaning against one of the food stalls in the central marketplace, just in the shadow. We make eye contact and he looks my naked body up and down before holding out his hands, and I make sure to oblige him. He makes a quip about being whipped, and not too long after that we’re back in my quarters on the Science Authority campus. I watch myself from his perspective as he uses the goatskin lash to tie me to my bed-frame, face down, before proceeding to whip out his long, hardening cock and press it into my front hole from behind. I never saw it, tied down as I was, but now I’m savouring every inch as I watch it plunge into me. I cry along with each thrust as he gives me a quick and furious dicking . . . I never realized I was so vocal . . .
Soon, with a series of grunts and groans, he falls over me and kisses my neck, tender and loving, before pulling out of me and standing up, wiping his cum slicked cock on my tunic—leaving me whining for more than one kind of release. He tucks himself away as he proceeds over to my terminal and uses a purloined Science Authority portable IT terminal to access the administrative functions and reset my password.
“Let’s say the new password is . . . ‘cockslut,’ one word, think you can remember that?” his voice in the memory is distant, as if heard through water, but he savours the quip as much as the orgasm still ebbing through his body.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I pant from the bed, trying to look over at him, but I was tied so tight I could only see him in my periphery. He, on the other hand, has an incredible view of his own cum dripping out of my boy hole.
“What’s the title of that paper you’re working on with Dr. Castor? ‘Evolution of hallucinogenic vectors of flora on Elysium Prime’? Not very catchy. Ah! Here we are.” From his eyes I watch his hands transfer my thesis onto a flash drive as he stands and walks over to the bed, slapping my taut, muscular ass playfully. “Sorry babe, I’m a couple of days late getting this to my client. You’re a tough one to pin down, but give an ale or two to the right undergrad and you can pin anyone.”
He takes one last appreciative look back at the fluids dripping down my leg as I swear at him, struggling futilely against his knots. “I’ll make sure to send security along in an hour or so.”
“Why the fuck are you doing this to me?!” I spat, furious. “Who the fuck are you?!”
“Me?” he asked as the door to my quarters slides open, he takes one last glance back, I can feel the lopsided smirk spreading across my face. “I’m Tommy, Tommy Zhang.”
“You look like you’re enjoying yourself,” the same voice, closer, without the distortion of memory, pulls me out, and I realize my head is lolling back, cradled tenderly by the alien being that I’m currently being impaled on. It holds me in an intricate sling formed out of a web of dark tendrils.
“Mmm . . . ” I try to suppress my panting groans, but Tommy once again eyes me up and down, appreciating every inch of me, from the rags of my bodysuit that hang around my ankles and wrists, to the spread of my legs as I’m penetrated by this perverse alien being. “Got you . . . at last . . . Zhang . . . ”
He laughs, but begins to strip, which doesn’t help at all with my current state. Seeing Tommy Zhang pull his shirt off, his lean, subtly muscled body, a thin smattering of hair between his pecs, his skin golden-brown in the binary light of Gargara-5.
The alien being slides out and lowers me. I can’t believe this is happening, but as I’ve learned since our first encounter, as I’ve investigated and hunted the smuggler over the past few years, following a string of xenological thievery and interstellar importation violations throughout the colonies, when Tommy Zhang fucks you over, he does it in every way possible.
“Hy,” VIA’s voice chimes in my ear, my earpiece the only bit of my outfit still in place, “Your blood pressure is rising. Would you like me to contact a passing Science Authority’s medical vessel for aid?”
“No! You’re not . . . to transmit any of this . . . to the Authority!” I cry out as I watch Tommy drop his pants and kick them off. He’s eschewed underclothes and stands there in nothing but his boots and a devilish grin. I take some small comfort that his dick drips at the sight of me. The little power I have in the situation.
Ever fearless—or reckless—Tommy reaches out and brushes a hand over the surface of the pool near him, and as if activating some internal mechanism I’m swung down so my boy bits are level with his crotch. He runs his fingers over my lips, teasing my clit as I squirm against the onyx tendrils that hold me there, groaning. He presses two fingers into me and hums his appreciation. “The horny goop got you nice and loosened up . . . but we’ll need a little more lubrication . . . ”
He runs another hand over the alien and in one, graceful motion it flips me around. Now I’m lying on my back, my eyes directly beneath Tommy’s smooth balls. He grabs his dick and slaps it against my lips, grinning down at me.
I can’t help but moan, “How the fuck are you doing that?”
“Lots of practice,” he intones, a haunted look in his eye. “The horny goop and I are very, very well acquainted.”
My mouth opens, already watering, and Tommy feeds me his cock, pushing it down my throat. I gag slightly at first, but get used to the feeling as his balls begin to slap against my eyebrows. Waves of pleasure begin to wash over my boy bits, which at first I think is the administrations of the alien being, but then I realize one of my arms is free, and has found its way down to jerk myself off as Tommy face-fucks me. It’s not lost on me, deep inside at least, that given the opportunity to fight back, I give in to the depravity. I chalk that up to months of travel through deeps space with nothing but dirty vids and smutty subroutines I programmed into my Virtual Intelligence Assistant for company.
Tommy grunts, bracing himself against two tendrils that hold him up. When he pulls his dick out of my drooling mouth, I see the feral look on his face. The being may be holding me, but it’s got him now too. I wonder if he can see the memories of all the sex I’ve had since we met. I wonder if it’s making him harder for me.
The web of tendrils lowers Tommy down so he’s laying in a bed of obsidian, and I’m lifted vertically and lowered down. Tendrils stroke him as he writhes beneath me, and I’m plunged onto his waiting cock with impossible precision. Now we’re both groaning, crying out, our pleasure echoing through the lush forests of Gargara-5. The alien being lifts me and then skewers me on Tommy’s cock, careful enough to not hurt either of us, but hard enough that we’re both feeling that exact, perfect, pleasured pain.
Tommy’s body writhes back and forth beneath me, his cock throbbing inside of me. The being has him thrusting into me with such accuracy, I can feel every inch of him, and soon his arms are digging at the darkness beneath him, his head twisting back and forth.
“Fuck me!” he gasps. “Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!”
As Tommy unloads my first orgasm hits me, desperate waves of pleasure rippling through my body. I feel him start to drip down my legs, but the being has not had its fill of us yet.
I moan in ecstasy as the being continues to fuck me onto Tommy’s dripping cock, and there’s a look of both pleasure and terror in his eyes as he gazes up at me. “You’ve . . . ” he grunts between panted breaths. �
�� . . . got to be . . . kidding me!”
The second orgasm hits and all I can see is the darkness of the being . . . or maybe it’s the expanse of space above . . . The alien pulls me off Tommy, and now the thick length of onyx takes his place, plowing into me without mercy. The third wave of orgasm has me twitching and falling limp, lost to the universe.
I come to moments later, cradled in Tommy’s arms on the ground. The dark material of the alien being recedes beneath us like an ocean wave in slow motion as it retreats, apparently sated, back to the pool. We both drip with Tommy’s cum, my juices, and our sweat has made a mess between us.
Eventually, when we’ve both caught our breaths and the last spasms fade away, I realize Tommy’s got his arms around me and he’s running his hand tenderly through my hair. He kisses me on the forehead.
“You said you were going to help me,” I whisper, nuzzling into his chest, the smell of his sweat as sweet as the air of Gargara-5.
“I did help you! I got you there faster than that thing would have, believe me,” he murmurs. “Three orgasms in a row, my personal best.”
I scoff, annoyed. “The last one was the . . . ”
“Horny goop?”
“ . . . alien being, so it hardly counts.”
I look up into that familiar feigned hurt expression. Then I lean in and we kiss, my tongue dancing against his. I could almost go for another round, but after a few moments I extricate myself from his arms, stretching slowly. I’d been slung up in the alien tendrils for awhile, and my limbs are protesting any quick movement.
I turn and see Tommy digging through his clothes. I almost expect him to pull a gun on me, but instead it’s a small device with a vial on one end. He walks up to the edge of the pool and bends over, giving me an excellent view. The device emits a pulse and a small droplet of onyx is sucked and sealed into the vial.
