Hostage Brides of the Overlords: Part 3: (Futuristic Sci Fi Erotica)

by Jill Soffalot

  "Are they trying to breed normals with littles?" Clara asked.

  "Not that we know of," Regina said. "We think maybe they're trying to keep themselves as a separate class. A ruling class. A short little self-hating ruling class."

  "How wonderful," Clara said dryly. "But never mind that. The men. Have you met them?"

  A wide smile spread across Heineka's face. "Oh, yes."

  "We have little parties," Regina said. "My little friend brings the booze, and he hooks us up with some of the normal men."

  "What do you guys do together?" Clara asked.

  Regina smiled. "They don't want baby normals. But that's just what they're going to get. We get together and fuck."

  Chapter Two

  Clara was nervous. She had the night off, and so she was able to sit in her room and listen to the other women come and go. She knew how they felt: apprehensive when they left, sore when they came back. Even if you had an orgasm when you got fucked by the bigs, you were still sore afterwards.

  It was late now. The hall lights had been turned low and most of the bedroom lights were off. A security orderly occasionally walked the halls, peaking in here and there.

  Clara was waiting for the others to come get her. The idea of going to a drink-and-fuck party would normally have been insane to her, but there was a cold logic behind her decision to join them. She had to get pregnant. And until she got pregnant she would be fucked by the bigs, with their massive cocks punishing her pussy, stretching her to the limits. The orgasms were big, she admitted to herself, but the damage was real. She would rather get pregnant from a nice normal boy that get her pussy smashed night after night by these monsters.

  It was very quiet when she heard the footsteps padding down the hallway, and she tensed up in her bed. Clara got up and moved to the door. The door stood open a crack, and Gretchen's face appeared. "Ready?"

  "Absolutely," Clara whispered. She slipped out the door behind her friend. The pair of them dashed down the hall, moving as quietly as they could in the sock feet. They made a turn, went down the hall, another turn, another hall, and then met up with Regina and Heineka and a little, who was apparently their alcoholic co-conspirator.

  "Mark, this is Clara," Regina said. "Clara, Mark."

  "She's hot," the little man said, and he nodded toward Clara. "You ready to fuck?"

  "I just found out," Gretchen said to Clara. "He'll only take us through if we agree to fuck him."

  "Three way!" the little said, holding up his arms in triumph. "Come on, we gotta get the booze."

  He led them to a locked door. He opened it using a passcode, and after that it was just a long stretch of doors, hallways, and passcodes. Clara was soon completely lost. Everything looked the same to her. Eventually they stopped in a small room full of standing freezers, and Mark began pulling out bottles and handing them to the women. They were 1.25 liter clear glass bottles, filled with clear liquid, with black plastic caps.

  "Oh, we're gonna get fucked up," Mark said in a sing-song voice. He gave each woman two bottles to carry and took one for himself, from which he took a long, burbling drink. "Fuck yeah," he said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He was fairly typical of the littles, with a large head on a middle-schooler's body, with hair and skin that suggested middle-age. Although obviously a letch, Clara was not as repelled by him as she was by Able Jones. At least Mark was willing to reach toward rebellion, reach toward happiness, although in a hedonistic and nihilistic manner.

  The little man leading them on, they went in elevators up, down long hallways, into elevators down, on and on. Mark seemed to have the place memorized. They occasionally passed other orderlies, who exchanged serious or half-serious nods with Mark. He didn't seem to care how his little party might appear. He was on a mission to fuck some normals and drink some booze.

  He finally opened a door which lead into a long dark tunnel. It was completely black, but Mark used a key in a wall socket to turn on the lights. It was a dormitory hall, like the ones where the girls lived. It was not in use.

  "We're good in here," he said, leading them into a dorm room and flicking on the lights. It was a large room with four bunk beds, making room for eight sleepers. The beds were made with crisp white sheets, pillows at the head and folded wool blankets at the foot. There were small nightstands and closets in each corner. Mark nodded his head and took a drink. "Let's fucking party."

  The four women came inside. Regina and Heineka sat down next to each other on one bed. Gretchen and Clara looked at each other. "Where are the guys?" Clara asked.

  "They'll be along," Mark said, hopping up onto a bed. He took another drink, then set the bottle on the nightstand. He reclined with his hands folded behind his head, his body stretched out. "We've got a few minutes to wait for them. Let's get some action over here."

  Gretchen looked at Regina and Heineka. "Huh?"

  "He means have the sex," said Heineka in her thick accent.

  "Yeah," Mark said. "I've brought you, I've got the booze, and I'm the only one who can get you back. And believe me, you don't want to try to get back on your own. You would get in some serious shit. Now come on, one of you, anyway. I don't care which one. It's not going to suck itself. If you like, one can suck, one can fuck."

  "Oh my god," Gretchen laughed, looking at her friend. "Is this my life now? Is this really happening?"

  "Wait, I have a good idea," Clara said. She set down the two bottles she was carrying, then unscrewed the cap off one of them. She sniffed it. It smelled like booze. Not like vodka or tequila or gin. It just smelled of alcohol. She took a sip. It wasn't terrible. She took a few sips, shivered involuntarily, then had a few more sips. It must have been two months since she'd been abducted through time from a beach north of San Francisco, which meant it had been two months since her body had experienced alcohol. It went quickly to her head. She looked at Mark, lying there on the bed, grinning like a Leprechaun with a weak chin and receding hairline.

  Clara burped and shook her head. "Ooh. Wow." She looked at Gretchen. "Okay, girl," she said. "If you can suck, I'll fuck."

  Gretchen had a few long drinks from a bottle of her own and then got onto the foot of the bed where Mark lay. She reached up and undid the front of his pants, pulling them down and open. His cock lay there for all the girls to see, and he giggled in anticipation. "Watch the show!" he said.

  The girls watched politely. Mark didn't seem ashamed, or even aware that his cock was about a third of the size of the massive cocks these women were dealing with on a nightly basis. Gretchen took his limp member in her hand and gently blew on it.

  "Heh, that tickles," Mark said, then he cooed softly as she began to kiss around his balls, slowly moving up the shaft. She gave a long lick, from sack to crown, and his cock began to properly stiffen. She took it in hand and then sucked it into her mouth. As she began to bob her head up and down over him, she gave Clara a little thumbs up sign. Apparently, sucking a tiny dick was now the easiest thing in the world.

  She worked on him for a while, then released him with a gasp, holding his shaft in her hand and jerking him. "Ready?" she said to Clara. "I think this is as hard as he's going to get."

  Clara nodded and shamelessly dropped her cotton pants and slipped down the white panties. Naked from the waist down, she stepped to the bed and straddled Mark, lowering herself down over him cowgirl fashion.

  Gretchen was still holding Mark's cock, and together they tried to slip it inside Clara. It wouldn't go. She wasn't wet for it. "Come on," she said, rubbing its head back and forth along the folds of her vagina. "You're too big, Mark," she joked. "It won't fit it."

  "You're too dry," Gretchen said. "Here, lift your leg up."

  Clara held on to the bunk above her and lifted her leg the way her friend instructed. Gretchen moved her head in between Clara's thighs and began licking her, moistening her dry pussy and warming her up as well.

  "Oh, fuck, Gret," Clara moaned. "Oh, you're good at that."

  Gretchen gave her
clit a little twirling with the tip of her tongue, and then moved out of the way. She grabbed Mark's cock and gave him a few quick sucks, bringing him back to hardness, and then Clara was able to mount, with the diminutive man's member slipping inside with ease.

  Clara began to bounce on him, having to remind herself not to bounce too high and have him pop out.

  "Oh yeah," Mark moaned, his hands on Clara's thighs as she worked on him. "Oh, you're the best, you're the best."

  He reached up and began fondling her breasts through the front of her shirt. "Take this off." She complied, and in moments she was fully nude, working away on top of him. Compared to the nightly debacle of taking the massive cocks of the bigs, this little's dick was a pleasant breeze. She fucked and fucked, bouncing until he began to moan and cry out.

  At the last moment, when she was sure he was about to come, she bounced off and grabbed his cock. She jerked and jerked as he came, sending his come spurting up across his belly and chest, landing in little white pools on his shirt.

  "Oh, shit, oh, that was good. But why'd you pull it out? Oh, wow..." His eyes were closed and his head was rolling around on the pillow. Clara wiped her privates on the bed sheet and climbed off.

  "Well," she said, looking at her clothes, "should I bother getting dressed? There are more guys on the way to fuck me."

  "Oh, get dressed, you tart," Regina said with a laugh. She and Heineka were drinking now as well. Clara put on her clothes and sat down next to Gretchen.

  "Thanks for the help," she said, leaning over to bump her shoulder against her friend. "I didn't know that was part of your repertoire."

  Gretchen took a sip from her bottle. "Only when I'm drinking," she said, smiling.

  On the bed across from them, Mark was snoring, his limp cock laying across his belly.

  The girls sat drinking and talking until a knock on the door fifteen minutes later. They looked at the door, then at Mark, who didn't stir. "Yes?" said Gretchen.

  "Where's Mark?" came a man's voice.

  "He's passed out," Gretchen replied. "He's been drinking."

  The door opened and a suspicious looking little entered, followed by three men. Normal men. The all looked young, around nineteen or twenty. One was Asian, one black, and one white.

  "Fucking Mark!" said the little, and he stormed over to his sleeping compatriot and slapped him awake. The normals all laughed at the scene, and the girls invited the three boys in. They began to mingle, sharing names, and where and when they'd come from. Gradually they paired off, with the Asian boy sitting with Regina and Heineka. The white boy paired with Gretchen, and the two of them climbed onto an upper bunk and sat next to each other, sharing a bottle and getting to know each other.

  Clara sat with the young black man, whose name was Sean. "So," she said. "You're from Cali?"

  He nodded, taking a gulp from a bottle. "Yeah, Long Beach, the LBC."

  "Right, the LBC, like Snoop Dogg," she said, smiling.

  "Aw, hell yeah, the white girl knows Snoop Doggy Dogg? Snoop's my boy!" He grinned.

  "What year did you say you were from?"

  "'Ninety-five." He took another gulp. "Yo, this shit is strong. What they call this?"

  "I don't know," she said. "What did you used to drink?"

  "Shit, I'd drink anything I could get my hands on. My favorite was rum and coke, but you know, whatever. Man, it's different here though. Everything. The food, especially. At home everything was fried all the time, you know, fried chicken, fried fish, pork chops, sausages, bacon, all that shit. Here, they never give us any meat, you know? They want us to fuck those big ugly women all the time, but they never give us any meat. You ask for some bacon at breakfast, and they all 'Ain't no bacon, nigga. Back o' the line.' We saying, 'Shit, how we gonna fuck those big ugly bitches eating wheat toast?' Man, shit here is whack."

  She nodded. "I know. It's the same for us, except we get fucked and then we get pregnant with big monster babies."

  "You had one of them babies yet?"

  "No. They all have." Clara pointed to the other girls.

  "I bet those boys got some big dicks on them, ain't they? I thought I was packin' large, but those big bitches have pussies like storm drains. They like, 'You in, nigga?' And I'm like, 'I'm in! I'm in!' Man, they scary as shit."

  Clara laughed. "Tell me about it. Imagine getting gang-fucked by three guys the size of tanks, with dicks like tree trunks. It's insane."

  He nodded, then looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Hey... what you miss?"

  Clara thought about it. "The sky. Trees. The internet, my phone. Having constant access to information, the news, things like that. Using my mind for something productive. Here I'm just a uterus. And I miss my friends. My family. Of course."

  "Yeah," he said. "I miss my mom. I miss my homies. I miss talking to people who talk like me, you know? There's only one other nigga in there right now, and he from Burundi or some shit like that. He speaks French. But man, the faces are always changing."

  "Why do the faces change?" she asked. "Do they replace you with new guys? Why don't they just keep letting you fuck and fuck?"

  He shrugged. "They say they don't want the same guys getting too many of those bitches pregnant. They want lots of different daddies so the kids down the road don't end up getting inbred, know what I'm saying? The way it sounds, you hit the magic number, get enough of these girls pregnant and bam, you out."

  "What do you mean, out?"

  He shrugged. "I don't know. Out. Done. They let you go."

  "Go where? We're underground."

  "I don't know, but I heard they let us go. Maybe back to Long Beach. That would be nice."

  Clara shook her head. "That doesn't make any sense."

  There was a sound coming from above them. Gretchen and her boy had started making love, and the springs of the upper bunk were making a rhythmic squeaking noise. Clara could hear Gretchen's breath coming faster.

  She was there with these boys for a reason. She was there to get pregnant, and save herself from getting fucked by those hulks for a while. Ten months, anyway. That would give her time to figure out what the hell was going on in this madhouse. She turned back to Sean. He looked sad.

  "Thinking about Long Beach?"

  He smiled. "Yeah. And my mom."

  She wrapped her arm around him. He put the bottle down and hugged her. It was a moment, not of foreplay, not of two people driving relentlessly toward the biological necessity of reproduction, but of two people caught in a mysterious storm, held against their wills, but able for one moment to comfort each other. They held on, holding each other close, her head on his shoulder, their arms around each other, bodies pressed tight.

  Slowly the hug broke. Clara kissed Sean on the lips. Once, twice, again. He was a good-looking guy. He had a good body. Maybe he was a good kid. She didn't know that. But she knew they were in the same boat, and they could at least feel good together. She put her hand on his body, and he put his hand on her waist. They kissed, letting their hands roam and explore. They were strangers, becoming lovers.

  Clara pulled her shirt off over her head. "Girl, you so fine," he said. "You so beautiful. Oh man, you so, so beautiful." He kissed her face, down her neck, and to her breasts. She hugged him close, feeling the muscles of his shoulders.

  He lay her down and they continued to kiss, and slowly they worked their way out of their clothing. She was very wet. He mounted, gently slipping inside. For the first time since she arrived in that strange place, she felt as though they were making love, and not being invaded.

  Afterwards, they lay together, holding each other. Before morning came the two littles roused them and ordered them to get dressed. Clara kissed Sean on the lips, and then they had to leave, each group of normals being let away to far distant sections in the underground labyrinth.

  ###

  End of Part 3. Continue to Part 4 now!

  About the Author

  Jill Soffalot, get it? It's Jack Soffalot, only for
chicks! Prim, prissy, high school biology teacher by day, filthy kink-pusher by night... Does life get any better than this? My students would NEVER in a million years think I even have sex, much less that I know way more about it than they do. HA!

  I build DNA models upon request.

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