Bambi's Alien Abduction

by Aubrey Cara

  The sooner we get to my domicile, the better. There I have milks and bars of ashwana petals she can bath with that will not scrape her delicate human flesh.

  She bends forward in front of me, and my mind clears of all thoughts and concerns. My root strains. There is no tail blocking her slit from view, and she is so swollen and ripe. The poor thing has been eager to mate and forced to deny her body’s cry. I know something of her anguish. My root swells with need every time she draws near.

  I can’t help but grab handfuls of her hips and pull her against my length. She startles and peeks over her shoulder at me. Her face is flushed once again, her mouth a little bow of surprise. I grind my root against her, enjoying her in this position.

  “I could mate you like this.” Ghyan’s tails are so thick and wide, you cannot see their bottoms, let alone mate from this position.

  Slowly she stands, until her back is flush against my front. She’s soft and yielding everywhere I am hard. My hands trail up her strange smooth skin, to her luscious orbs, fingering the taut-beaded tips.

  “Oathar.” Her hands cover mine, halting my movements, pulling me away from her decadent flesh. “I’m not sure this is a good idea,” she says in a whisper, but there’s censure and hesitation in her voice I refuse to accept.

  She moves to step away but I catch her up, pulling all her lush curves against me, and bury my face in her fur.

  “You’ve awakened my mating fever, my little human. As I have awakened yours.” I reach between her thighs, skimming my fingers along her plump folds to prove my point.

  She gasps in surprise as I delve into her heat. She grabs my hand again, but this time to hold me to her. Her entire body quivers against me with her need as I push my finger into her heat. Pulling away, she mewls in loss, but I turn her to face me. Her chin tilts up toward mine. I’m struck by the exotic beauty of this creature.

  Her dark eyes and pouty lips draw my attention like nothing ever has. I lean down and cover her mouth with mine. I cannot stop my hands from running over her, petting and caressing and pulling her against my length. She gasps in surprise, then yields, running her hands over my chest and shoulders, her orbs squished between us.

  Her lips come return to mine, and this time it is I who boldly teases her mouth open with flicks of my tongue. I want to taste her everywhere. This mouth mating makes me dizzy with need. It is an Earth custom I will miss when Bombee is gone.

  The thought of her leaving makes something clench in my chest. A tide of possessiveness surges inside me, and I let it wash through me. Consume me. I sweep her up in my arms and carry her out of the water. I will analyze these foreign emotions later. After the mating is done and my mind is no longer clouded with need. For now, she is mine in a way I have never claimed anything. She will carry my yhar and swell with my young. Mine.

  I knock over the basket of drying cloths, spreading them on the stone floor with my foot, before I lower myself over her, kissing and tasting along her neck and back to her mouth.

  The feel of her under me takes my breath away. Her thighs are spread, her body cradling me against her heat. Unlike with a Gyhan female, I do not have to worry about a thick tail getting in the way as I rock against her, seeking entrance.

  She arches moaning. “Oathar, please.”

  “Please, what?” Mating her mouth, I trail my fingers down to her apex and find her cunt weeping with eagerness. My root throbs for solace here, but I want to taste her again.

  Moving down her body, I pause to suckle and palm her bountiful orbs. She seems to enjoy this as much as I do. I nuzzle her little tuft of hair before licking into her wetness. This is traditionally how we prepare a Ghyan for our penetration, but with Bombee, it’s so much more. Her cunt does not need to be prepared, but begs to be devoured.

  When the walls of her flesh begin to tighten against my tongue, her hips writhing as she makes whimpering sounds of need, I pull away. She cries out her frustration.

  “My poor little female.” She has been in need, and I’ve been denying her. I know something of that need. “Do not worry. The wait is over.”

  “Oathar,” she chants, over and over, her eyes glazed.

  I ease into her cha cha with as much finesse as I can muster, fighting the need to drive into her tight heat with force. Her orifice is much smaller than I had anticipated but slowly stretches to accept me.

  Her face lights with surprise. “Oh my God,” she whimpers. “You’re gonna wreck my pussy.”

  I’m not sure what this poosee is. I’m still feeding her my root. “Almost there,” I assure her, not stopping until my groin rests against her and my root is planted as deep as it can go. Her tight flesh is firmly wrapped around me, and I’m engulfed in her wondrous heat.

  I rest my forehead against her, careful to keep my upper body from crushing her while waiting for the twining of my vines to emerge.

  Panting, she wiggles under me. “Umm, Oathar? You can move now.”

  Is mating so quick for humans? “Do not worry, my Bombee, the mating will begin soon.”

  “Begin?” She wiggles her hips again, stirring a pleasant sensation in my groin. “I think we may have different ideas of how we mate.”

  The mating fever glazing her eyes is fading, and I’m pricked with a sensation of disappointment. I want to hear her mating grunts once again as she loses herself in her natural instincts. I am unsure what has caused this retreat. I lean down and mate her mouth, hoping to call forth her urges once more, but she pushes at my chest.

  “Roll over.” Her thighs clench my hips, and she pushes at my chest.

  “Roll over?”

  “Let me be on top.”

  “Ahh, now I understand. Gyhan’s prefer to be on top, too.” But I always assumed it was because of their thick tail. Maybe there is another reason. A part of me is disappointed I will not get to try positions I’ve learned are popular on other planets. Clutching her to me, I roll onto my back.

  “I think humans may do things a little differently.” Her breasts sway above me in a pleasing manner, as she sits back on my length. “Do Gyhans do this?” Her hips rock before she rises on her knees. My root nearly exits her before she drops back down.

  My eyes roll back at the sensation, but I pry them open to watch Bombee. She sets a rhythm, of friction and motion the likes of which I have never experienced before. I believe this is what some species call rutting. I clasp her hips, bringing my groin up to aid in the rutting.

  Her orbs sway and bounce in a pleasing manner. Moaning, she twists her nubs and rubs between her legs the entire time she bounces her body on my root.

  I snarl and growl savagely in reply, driving my length up deep inside her, the call of my inner warrior awakening. I never expected mating a human would turn so primitive.

  “I’m coming!” she screams.

  I don’t know what this is, but her body tightens around my length, liquid heat gushing against me, and my twine uncoils. My root has already begun the mating vibrations to open her womb. I will plant my yhar in this female in record time.

  My heart pounds, and my blood sings through my body.

  This is better than flying into the Storm of Ghbril.

  BAMBI

  My scream echoes off the stone walls. I’m still riding the tide of one of the best orgasms to ever rock ladytown when I experience a sensation rivaling my favorite four speed B.O.B, aka Robby the Rabbit.

  “Your egg launcher is vibrating,” I manage to gasp.

  Beast Boy is still moving under me, driving that huge cock up inside me. I knew he was going to wreck me, but holy vibrating dick, Batman.

  He moves his thumb over to rub my clit, and I scream, clutching his wrist, unsure if I want him to stop or continue. Talk about sensation overload. I’m going cross-eyed trying not to move, and every muscle of my body is locked down in the supernova, mother of all orgasms.

  He sits up, taking my mouth in a hungry kiss. I’m swept up in sensation, my body on fire. It’s a second before I notice I ca
n’t move. I look down, and, “Holy shit, tentacles.” Slithery, thin ropes are wrapped around my thighs and waist, holding me on junk lockdown.

  Alien sex just got real.

  I’m trying not to freak out…but vibrating dicks and tentacles are happening. “Oathar, what the actual fuck?”

  “They’re my vines.” He cups my face, resting his forehead against mine. “Relax Bombee. I am twining you. It’s a natural part of mating.”

  “Natural for who?”

  I’m still freaking out, but the three-speed cock goes into plug-in Hitachi-powered, hyper-speed vibrations with pulsating waves. My eyes cross. I can’t speak, let alone breathe. I gasp as my body is rocked by jolt after jolt of electrifying orgasms.

  Oathar groans into my neck, something about yhar, but I’m lost. My tombstone will read, “Here lies the girl killed by alien cock.”

  My vision hazes.

  Am I blacking out?

  Did I black out?

  Where am I?

  The vibrations are slowing, but I’m still twitching in aftershocks and catching my breath. I think I’m crying. Is this why they cried after sex in the olden days? Because the dick was just too bomb to handle?

  I always assumed it was due to disappointment.

  Still lassoed to me, Oathar eases me down onto the leathers spread all over the floor. Resting over me, he strokes my hair and nuzzles my face. “I have never experienced anything so glorious as your heat. My ling will thrive in your womb, my bhnt ky’ab yhar.”

  I’m too spaced out to process what he’s saying, but I’m digging the worshipful look on his face as he tells me this. It may be the hefty oxytocin release talking, but I’m grooving on Beast Boy pretty hard. His golden eyes are so captivating. He’s staring at me like I’m the most precious thing in the universe, and something unfurls in my chest. I’m trying to place the sensation, and I think this may be what it feels like to be cherished.

  It takes me a full minute before his words ling and thrive in your womb penetrate my blissed-out brain. They hit me with the force of running full speed into a wall you’ve been staring at the entire time.

  I just had pregnancy inducing alien sex. With an alien. And now…

  Oh, shit.

  The egg launcher...it vibrated and distracted me. I thought I could play a little “just the tip” for some mutual interspecies gratification, but I was wrong. So wrong. I am weak and the egg-launching billy club between Beast Boy’s legs is mighty.

  I yank at his “vines” but they only cinch tighter.

  “Hst. Zag gam ni,” he says grabbing my hands.

  “Be at peace? How can I be at peace right now?” I’m a human incubator.

  “This is part of the convergence. We must give the yhar time to fully settle. Then my vines will retreat.”

  “I don’t want your pirate eggs to settle.”

  “Bombee…” He says this through gritted teeth, wearing a pained expressed as I struggle and yank at the bindings around my waist.

  I kind of forgot they were attached. “Sorry.” I automatically release the “vines” tentacles.

  He breathes a sigh of relief, but I’m still pissed. Turning my head, I refuse look at him. When he comes in for another nuzzle, I bat him away.

  “What has upset you?”

  Is he really that clueless? “I told you I didn’t want to be your incubator.”

  “But your body was crying the mating call.”

  “Oh, yeah, just rub it in.” My cheeks heat in embarrassment. “I may have been calling, but you didn’t have to answer.” Not that any guy hasn’t ever picked up that particular call.

  Dammit.

  We lie there for a minute, both of us awkwardly avoiding eye contact when I ask in a peeved voice, “How long before the vines, unvine?”

  “Usually around a quarter shift.”

  “And how long is that?”

  He sighs again as if frustrated with my human ineptitude. “A shift is three human hours.”

  I do the math and…forty-five minutes. We’re going to be like this for forty. Five. Freaking. Minutes.

  Closing my eyes, I inhale the good, exhale the bad, and settle in, pretending I’m not here. I am not carrying alien baby eggs. I do not have a huge alien man even now lodged firmly inside me. And I do not have any kind of messy matter oozing from my special place.

  Not right now.

  “Bombee—”

  “Hst.” I cut him off, using his little sound, and grab his lips. “You’re not here.”

  “Ah mam tehr,” he mumbles through my fingers.

  I close my eyes again. “No, you are not. I am in my happy place.”

  There is some grumbling. Oathar flips us so I am sprawled over on top of him. I keep my eyes closed, refusing to leave my happy place. If I happen to find the wide expanse of his hard chest comforting, that’s fine. And if my breathing happens to sync up with his strange heartbeat, lulling me to sleep, so be it.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Elder’s Wisdom

  Proceed with patience and forethought

  Or all will decline into chaos.

  OATHAR

  Bombee trails behind me as we make our way to the ancestor’s cave. She is not pleased. She may have gone to her “happy place” before, but she is not there now. She scowls up at me and yanks at the tether I hold, that is attached to the center of the harness she wears.

  It was a fight to get it on her, but the results are lovely. The leather straps crisscross under and over her bountiful breasts and come up to wrap around her throat. It is a device of function over form, but on her it is a work of art.

  “I will never forgive you for making me wear this.” She yanks at the long strip of leather again, snarling at me.

  She has the heart of a warrior and does not care to be subjugated in this manner, but in this she will not win. “Desist. Do you need another cafkah?”

  Huffing, she releases the leash, but not before I see how my threat affects her. Internal heat flushes her skin, from face to chest. She appears the same when her mating instinct is awakened. Cafkah are punishments fit for older ling, but from her reaction to it, I believe they may be something different on Earth.

  It would be a lie to say I did not experience a disquieting reaction when administering her cafkah, but then again, I’ve never chastised a fully developed female in this manner. Yet, I am not sure if it would have awakened my root in the same way had it been a Gyhan across my lap.

  I must remember to ask Niin about human punishments and mating rituals.

  “You must wear this for your own protection.” I once again explain to her. I underestimated how dangerous it would be to bring her here. She has already garnered far too much attention. The harness and leash will ensure no one approaches or speaks to her. I should have put it on her in the first place. “The harness may come off when we reach my domicile.”

  She huffs, turning her face away from me, her braided hair whipping over her shoulder like a twitching tail. She has done this many times since the mating. This, time she crosses her arms, lifting her orbs to my view.

  She may be indignant over her appearance, but I find it very pleasing. I wish once again we were at my domicile. If her implantation went accordingly, she carries my ling inside her. After planting yhar, it is beneficial to mate repeatedly throughout gestation for proper fertilization. The way my root pulses to life at the mere sight of her, this will be no hardship.

  Having disposed of her Earth garments, she now wears makeshift clothes she fashioned from some leather drying cloths, crudely sewn together with leather ties. Her breasts and cha cha are covered, but my modest human believes there is still too much of her bheets on display. If she bends over, her cha cha is fully exposed. This is another thing that has caused her to be displeased, not that I should be bothered by her displeasure.

  I am Yon Tor. It is my duty to care for her. As long as she is well fed and taken care of, she can seek her “happy place” on her own.

  The
slapping of her shoes echoes loudly as we make our way into the ancestral cave, garnering the attention of everyone present. I take in her exposed toes and the flimsy paddles she wears on her feet and remind myself to find her something more protective to wear. Something quieter.

  A long table set in the center of the cave is covered with food. Norik, Jhyr, Niin, and Vhars sit on benches on either side. A stool sits at one end, presumably for me. They stand at our approach, but I wave them down.

  “Sit. Eat. We have matters to discuss.”

  I am happy to note Vhars is covered in dirt and soot, showing he has been laboring as he should be. However, his sneer aimed at Bombee sparks my ire. I can still hear his snide voice when he called her a hisham. The slur referencing non-Gyhan females is outdated and offensive. His behavior is unfit for one in line to be the next Yon Tor.

  His selfish ideology is something I hoped he would grow out, but now I fear it is a product of my own failures as his father. I was not as active in his life as I should have been. My father passed when I was not much older than Vhars, leaving me the great responsibility of being Yon Tor. Young and overwhelmed, I was more negligent in being the guiding hand he needed than I ever realized.

  Pulling out the stool, I sit, pulling Bombee down on my lap before she can protest.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she mutters under her breath, folding her arms and lifting her orbs once again. I do not believe my little warrior goddess realizes how much the sight pleases me.

  “I do not keed, my little bhnt ky’ab yhar.” Carrier of life. At my words, all gazes move to Bombee in a mixture of understanding and surprise. This is a term reserved to honor and respect Ghyan carrying our young.

  Vhars stiffens and scowls, displeased, but wisely remains silent.

  The way Bombee squirms under everyone’s stare, I do not believe the significance of the moment is lost on her. I have given her time to acclimate to her new existence, but she now carries my ling. It is important she and every other being on this planet recognize she is my bhnt ky’ab yhar.