by Rob Rosen
Naturally, I would spy for my people. Obviously, based on my Lord’s request, they’d chosen a side. This was a concept so foreign, though, that I wasn’t really sure I could be thinking it. Probably, I was wrong. Gevarians never choose a side when they can play all sides against each other. This then was bigger than I could envision, but I was simply a finger. Does the finger tell the hand to make a fist or to be still?
I blinked up. The Lord seemed to still be waiting on something from me.
I said, looking intently into his black eyes, “I will ask and listen, and then tell you everything.”
In the spare light they’d left us, Colonel Jessing said, “They don’t torture you.”
I answered, “They do not.”
Silence reigned then for a long time as he chewed on this. I waited him out. “Why are you spared?”
“I am Emissary. Torture is useless. I willingly submit. Rape cannot be used against me. I am always more than willing to do as instructed. Pleasure is my currency. Pain is merely a sensation. Same coin. I serve the greater good, always. I am of peace and love.”
I stopped then because Jessing started laughing at me. “What is that exactly?” he choked out. “What kind of animal are you?”
And in that moment, that animal he mentioned stirred in anger. It was good that the light was sparse, for my teeth clenched as my inner harmony drifted toward chaos and my breathing fell off center.
“I am an animal who survives. I am an animal that will still exist long after you and the Blayling have destroyed one another. I am Gevarian. I blink my eyes and you have already died. You are history to us. We were here when the first star gave birth. We were already gods when your people crawled out of the swamps and onto land.”
Jessing stopped laughing. He was listening to me, and yet, despite my training, my anger was controlling me. I blamed my hunger for him. I blamed my lack of experience as a high-level Emissary. I blamed my need for physical contact. If I were to truly survive, I was going to have to fuck him soon. I had to have him inside me. And I needed to be inside of him, too. I wanted to tear him apart from the inside out. I wanted to rip the human from the animal and let chaos reign. Despite the amount of sex I’d had with the Blaylings, I wanted the starving human so bad that it hurt.
The colonel again started to chuckle as he pointed around. “And just look at how far you’ve come.”
The door opened then. They’d come for Jessing.
He was gone for a long while. It’s hard to tell time in semidarkness, so I counted to occupy my mind. Then I thought of Jessing’s soft blond hair, of my hands gripping his hair while I fucked his mouth, of my hands tangled in his hair while he took my ass and I screamed. These images helped pass the time.
When they were done with him, they threw him back to me. I crawled over, touching him gently. I pulled him up into me and held him. He cried long into his sleep. I stroked his head and hummed old songs as if he were a child. While he slept, I set my mind to healing some of his injuries. I couldn’t fix him completely, but I did what I could. Human biology can be so difficult and stubborn. Resistant. Just like humans.
I thought of planting seeds in his mind: images of me, copies of the ones I’d used to keep me company in his absence, but I resisted. Mostly. I did whisper a few into his mind. If he’d not already been thinking of me in this way, it wouldn’t hurt for him to do so now. It might even take some of the sting out of the Blayling inquisition.
I was taken to the captain’s quarters. Blaylings never act alone. They are pack animals, with severe rank discipline. The Blayling guards opened the door to the officer’s quarters, and I was met with four Blayling high officers and their captain.
Once the door closed, I shrugged off my robe and stood before them naked. To Blayling eyes, I am long-limbed and strongly built, my rows of teeth clean and sharp, my eyes dark, hair long and black and enticingly tangled. An officer licked his lips, and I knew that my appearance pleased. I spread my legs, swinging my hips and crotch forward. Another officer fidgeted. I smiled, awaiting their pleasure.
“Emissary,” the captain grunted, nodding his head in greeting.
I nodded back and started stroking my cock, coyly tugging on my balls, my voice a low-pitched rumble. “What’s your pleasure?”
One of the officers dropped his pants, openly stroking his own cock. Two others started undressing, their eyes on me and my rising prick. I pulled at one of my nipples. The captain gestured for me to come to him. I came, and within inches of him, I sprayed him with pheromones. His dark eyes widened, nostrils flaring. He grabbed my upper arm to guide me. I leaned over his desk. He reached for the jar of lubrication and started slapping it thickly on his massive, hard cock. Rough sticky fingers probed my ass, widening the crack. I pushed against these digits, grunting, riding his hand, a moan building in my chest.
In my ear, he barked, “Where are the human ships? What has the human told you?”
I closed my eyes. I saw clearly the tactical reports from Colonel Jessing’s mind. I saw both man and machine placement. I saw action plans and movement. I opened my mouth to speak, but it was then that I saw humans dying to protect me, humans giving up their short meaningless lives to save my own meaningless one. I thought then of my longing for the handsome colonel, tortured in darkness, laughing to keep his hopes up. I closed my mouth, biting down on my bottom lip.
The captain thrust his cock into my ass so hard that I slammed into the desk. He started fucking me then, long and slow, steadily building up desire. His thick fingers pulled on my nipples, one moment a caress, the next a painful pinch. I thrust back to take him in fully, my own cock painful and straining. I gave in to the pleasure of it. I was so fucking tight and he felt so damned good inside me.
The captain bit my shoulder. “Emissary?”
“I don’t know yet,” I lied and nearly choked. We don’t lie, after all; we don’t need to. An officer crawled between our legs to suck at my cock. I moaned, my prick down his capable throat while the captain thrust himself into my ass. The officer sucked my balls, then came back to my cock, his tongue rolling over the fat head. The captain threw himself into his work, nearly lifting me up with each plunge. My hips rode wildly, giving my ass fully to the captain’s hot cock, giving my own prick to the officer’s suckling mouth. I moaned, enjoying the sound of slick flesh pounding rhythmically and the wetter sound of saliva, sweat, and lubrication.
I thought of the human war plans. I lied some more, the words strained as juice and sweat dripped down from my ass. Another officer licked at my legs and slick ass and the captain’s swinging balls. “You’re going to win this war, Captain,” I panted. “Another Blayling victory.”
The captain shouted as he came, his hips a fierce dance that left me dizzy and dazed. He pulled out slowly, and I instantly missed his glorious cock. I whirled around, sucking at his mouth and long tongue with desperation. His rank breath filled me, and I inhaled it willingly. Blaylings taste of honey and sweet rot.
I read him then. He was pleased with the news, vanity winning out. He wanted to fuck me more, but alone, long after the officers were done. I nodded at him, agreeing with those plans. His cock was full and long, and he could fuck like a strong machine. Yes, I wanted him, too. In my ass, in my mouth.
Alone, without his pack of officers to censor him, I was sure I would find the captain a most willing and talkative playmate. It is always wise to know how all the players in a game think. The Blayling officers came to me as the captain stepped aside to wait his turn, and then we all came and came again.
Satiated, my mouth tangy with come, my ass and cock sore and happy with use, they gently put me back in the cell with Colonel Jessing. By Emissary standards, it was a good day’s work. I had enough Blayling in me to keep me fat and happy for at least a week.
War plans mixed in my mind with Blayling desire and countless positions. The one I played over and over in my mind was the delicious one where I rode the captain’s cock backward as he sat in
his big chair. His large hands nearly tore my nipples off while his teeth chewed on my neck and shoulders. The Blaylings had spies in the human assemblies on Rosa Three and within the Kisha Border. They had smart bombs pointed at Charion Moon and Rosa Two. The Trahaiten Border was unprotected on the Blayling side, but intel confided the rumors of civil unrest on the Aslyian Planet.
Colonel Jessing came over to me the minute the door closed, human concern washing over his beautiful face. I reached up dazed, stroking his cheek, my fingers slipping for a second into his full mouth. I then sucked my fingers, tasting him. I tasted bitterness with an underlying sweetness, all with that wonderful human musk.
Worn out as I was, I could feel my hungry cock stirring. My hand under my robe, in the cover of the poor light, I cradled my cock, lightly pulling on it. Bruised as it was, it started giving in to hunger. I rose up on my elbow as the colonel leaned over me. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to pull him down on top of me and put his cock inside me.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “Did they hurt you?”
“I didn’t tell them anything,” I whispered.
The colonel paused, confused. He didn’t know that I had a lot to tell to both sides.
“I know how the humans can win this war,” I whispered, just before I kissed him. At first he froze, then he responded, his tongue wrapping around my own, lips grinding. When he finally pushed me away, I realized that I hadn’t even thought to use the pheromones. That was more shocking to me than the rejection. I hadn’t thought to seduce him. I’d wanted him to respond to me because he wanted to, not because he had to.
Colonel Jessing moved to the other side of the cell. In the dark, his husky voice cracked. “Why are you screwing with my head?”
“I’m not.”
“Then why did you do that?”
“I . . . I don’t understand.”
“They sent someone like you in here to break me,” the colonel said softly. “How did they know exactly what I like?”
Days passed, maybe a week or two. Time is hard to tell when one is imprisoned. We sat in complete darkness once the light went out. Sometimes the colonel would forget to hate me, to mistrust me, and we’d have a conversation. He started to understand my humor. I could make him laugh, until he remembered I was the enemy. Talking to him was simply putting off the inevitable. It was facade. It’s hard to leave training behind. In the end, we all fall back on what we know.
We are, after all, what we are.
In the blackness, noises echoed and exaggerated. It sounded like the Blaylings were either having parties or making war. It was hard to tell which. But after an eternity of that, hunger drove me. I was starving now, the Blayling lust having worn off. Memory of the colonel’s kiss sharpened the blade on my hunger, making me feel edgy and temperamental. Now when the colonel goaded me with his nasty quips, I growled in response. Eventually, I stopped responding altogether.
I’d not used my pheromones. I’d wanted a natural response to my lovemaking. He’d rejected me, pushed me away. No one rejects an Emissary. We are of love, always. It’s impossible, unbelievable, to consider such a rejection, and for him to do that meant, well, I wasn’t sure what it meant but it couldn’t be good. And now I was going to die of hunger. I wasn’t going to reach out to him again. Colonel Jessing was going to kill me, after all.
It’s true, Emissaries die. Stars burn out and fade. Emissaries die without love.
We really are sexual parasites. Our food is desire, come, longing.
The colonel crawled closer to me. He whispered, “What is going on with you?”
I ignored him. He reached out to touch me, and I cried out, the feeling of his hand on me overwhelming, the desire to live, to love, nearly overcoming my fierce proud urge to die, leaving him and me unsatisfied. I shook under his hand. He rolled me over to face him. I was blind in the darkness, but I could feel his breath on my face. I longed for him.
“I’m dying,” I said, plainly. “Now, go away.”
Colonel Jessing chuckled dryly and I cried out. I was going to miss that, his double-edged laughter, his strange human hope for something better, his bitter doubt that he deserved it. He asked me, softly, his hand on my chest, “What do you need? What can I do for you?”
“I told you,” I said with a pause, making him wait for it, wanting him to hurt for it. I tried to shove his hand off me, but instead I clung to it. “I told you to go away.”
Colonel Jessing lowered his mouth to mine until we were only a hair’s breadth away. “What if I told you I was also dying? The Blayling have forgotten all about us and now we’re going to die together.”
“I’m dying first,” I insisted, waiting one beat before adding, “and it’s your fault.”
“Blame God, blame warmongering planets, blame greedy industrialists and savage aliens,” Colonel Jessing said with a sigh, “but how is it my fault?”
“I can’t live without love,” I replied. “But you can.”
Silence then.
Finally, Colonel Jessing said, “Is that the truth?”
I turned my head away, closing my eyes. Softly, I said, “Nothing is the truth.”
The colonel reached for me in the darkness, his hands gently finding my face. His mouth was hesitant on mine at first, a sweet kiss, a testing kiss, and then, as I responded, that kiss deepened. I moaned into it.
There were images in his mind of his first tender kiss as a teenager. It was a kiss shared with his best friend, Justin, under a bridge one rainy afternoon. Then there were the kisses in college: drunk, wild kisses in public places with a steady line of boyfriends. And then the most tender, secretive kiss of all: the one he shared with another officer just before boarding a war cruiser.
Colonel Jessing found my stiffening cock. My back arched as he stroked it possessively. I pulled my robe up so that he could handle me completely, touch my bare flesh. I groaned when his warm mouth folded around my prick, his tongue lapping gently at the underside of the mushroom head. He took my cock fully into his mouth and throat, his plump lips gently brushing my aching balls as he sucked and swallowed. My hips jerked under his control, feeding his hungry mouth with my cock.
The colonel pulled away for a moment, adjusting himself. I whimpered in the sudden chill, my cock pulsing without the warmth of his mouth. It was then that my hands found the colonel’s own cock, rising in his tattered military uniform. Together we released it from his pants before his mouth was on my cock and mine on his.
I sucked his thick tool, breathing in his musk, his warm balls slapping my chin. Our hips danced in unison: slow, circular waves, then quick pulsating beats. When at last we came, it was so close to being at the same time that it was hard to tell who did it first. I just know that I licked the colonel clean from the tip of his juicy prick to his warm balls.
We lay in darkness then, resting. When the colonel had enough energy to laugh at a private thought, I knew it was time. After all, he’d kept me starving for him long enough.
I pulled him up to a sitting position. I sucked his fingers until they were wet enough, and then I guided his hands to my ass. I rocked on my knees as he fingered my tight chute, loosening me up for a good, hot fuck. I took in as many of his digits as I could, riding his hand, nearly buckling under the pleasure of it. He spit down into my asshole, adding saliva to his fingers.
When he was hard again, the colonel got on his knees and slid his cock into my waiting ass. He fucked me hard, his balls slapping into me from behind, his hand pulling tightly on my cock, jerking me. I strained against him, willing my ass to take him completely. I rolled my butt into his hips, giving it up to his thick prick. This time I came first, splattering his hand with warm, gooey spunk. Moments later, he came inside me, his body writhing behind, his come hot inside before trailing down my cheeks and legs. The colonel tried to pull out, but I reached behind me, holding on to his asscheeks, letting his cock jerk inside me. I was reluctant to lose even this much of him.
“God,” Colonel Jessing p
anted, pulling free at last, his cock soft and happy. “That was a good fuck.” Idly, he stroked my cheek with his knuckles. “I needed that, needed you.”
I smiled, playfully sucking on his fingers. Then, in the calm silence of the dark, distant shots rang out. Shouts followed before the sound of metal crashing, more gunfire, screams that were distinctly both human and Blayling.
“Look,” Colonel Jessing said, “here comes the cavalry.”
Temptation rose inside me. I wondered if we had enough time before they arrived, before I would have to Emissary again someplace else, to control the outcome of total and complete war. We are not supposed to take sides. As Emissary, we are entitled to sex in exchange for partial and sometimes misleading bits of intel. Long after other civilizations fall, Gevarians live on. We will still be here when the final star dies, and then, loveless, we will finally fade away as well.
But I really couldn’t help it, and so I gave in to temptation one last time with him. I rather liked humans, after all. They did surprisingly senseless things just to do them. It was stupidly sweet. Perhaps I even owed them one. I mean, humans had saved my life twice now.
And so I rolled on top of Colonel Jessing. Even in the darkness, I could feel him smiling. He gasped when I took his soft cock into my mouth, but he quickly responded when I started doing things he’d only dreamed of before. In other words, sometimes being an alien man-whore, mind-reading parasite is its own reward.
THE GAG GIFT
Lee Minxton
“Well, boys, looks like another Welcome Back Party has gone off without a hitch.” Brad chuckled as he surveyed the scene around him. The faint of heart would shudder at the potato chip crumbs crushed into the sofas and the scent of stale beer, but he knew that his fraternity brothers wouldn’t have it any other way. “And this year’s gift exchange was downright impressive, wouldn’t you say?”
Every party needs a gimmick, and the Sigma Chi Welcome Back Party gift exchange was the most beloved and feared one on Fraternity Row. The guys would draw names out of a hat, then find gag gifts for their chosen recipients. The gift ceremony, the traditional climax of the party, always resembled Secret Santa, but on crack. Presents were chosen with an eye toward irony or complete tastelessness, preferably both.
