Warm surges of electrical ecstasy pulsed through her body.
The surges became vibrations, frequencies of pleasure relaxing her muscles and breaking down all of her barriers.
She couldn’t focus, or fight… Could only take what he gave her…
He asked again, firmly. “The Grommalacht. Where, when? Now—TELL ME.”
She screamed three times then.
Once, the psychic scream of her weakened mind, answering him, giving him the exact information he sought.
The second scream was a wail of release of a powerful climax, her pussy muscles spasming over the massive intruding cock, clenching and pumping as, deep inside her, her interrogator released gushes of his own steaming seed.
The third scream came after he pulled out of her, stood, and walked away towards the airlock. It was an angry and wretched sound that hurt her lungs. Not directed, really, at him, or what had just occurred …
But directed at a cold, sterile universe in which one small female, trying to be loyal to her people and do right, had been left so hurting and alone.
After this final scream, she sat alone for long moments before she heard the clang of his ship’s docking mechanism’s release and knew that he was truly gone… again.
#
Lord Gearon Teague, last of the Mekrons, watched Jessam’s vintage, silver-black ship--saucer-shaped with a distinctive square hyperdrive unit mounted on top--retreat on his viewscreen.
He sighed heavily as he punched a new set of coordinates into his navigation system.
Physically, their encounter had brought him pleasure.
But emotionally… Jessam had once meant a great deal to him. He had once thought, even, that she might possibly be THE ONE, the female to share the Bond with him, his Lady, partner, and eternal soulmate. But, when the Grommalacht’s hunger had gone out of control and the Enpathian people continued to serve it, Jessam along with them…
And then his planet destroyed, his own people betrayed and killed in the bargain…
The ship he now flew, the grand prototype called the Astral Tryst, had been designed to be flown by a Bonded couple. He managed as best he could as a single pilot, but it served as a constant reminder of his loneliness.
I’ll never be Bonded, he thought. I’ve loved and lain with many ladies, true, but never found THE one. And now I will most likely die alone. Probably quite soon, yes?
His attack would likely prove fatal--but he had to try it. He couldn’t let the Enpathians’ atrocities continue. The Grommalacht had to be stopped.
At the height of her pleasure, Jessam had given him the navigation coordinates he’d needed. Now, he brought them up on his screen.
It was a blue-green planet, third from its sun, a textbook variety garden world, perfect for humanoid life. About 30,000 light years from galactic center, out on one of the spiral arms…
Just enough time to get there and think up some clever stratagem along the way… he thought. If not, there’s always “Plan B.” Grim as it seems, yes?
He sat back in his chair, engaged the hyperdrive, and prayed to every benevolent deity whose name he could remember to help his mission to succeed.
#
Heather Holzengruber was halfway up the stairs to the projection room when she saw the footprints: wet footprints on the concrete stairs, leading down. She thought that they must have been made by shoes or boots with very large soles.
I wonder if Karrie’s been up here again with one of her boyfriends?, she thought. Well, I can’t blame her for trying to get a little thrill where she can. Not nowadays.
But the size of this guy’s feet… He must be HUGE. Maybe in more ways than one, considering what they say about big feet…
She continued up the steps and opened the door to the projection room.
This had been a struggling art house cinema before the invasion, and the projector was old, pre-digital… But at least it had a flat spool onto which the entire film could be wound, so she didn’t have to switch reels or anything. She flicked the switches to turn the house lights down and started the projector. She peeked through the little window into the theater to check the focus. The RKO Pictures logo at the beginning of King Kong was in glorious black and white focus, and everything looked okay.
They had a bunch of vintage films that had been part of the cinema’s permanent library, copies of Casablanca, the Sound of Music… even The Rocky Horror Picture Show, which had been a midnight favorite until… recent events.
They kept showing the old films for the few who would come to see them. It wasn’t so much the movies themselves that mattered, and they certainly didn’t expect to gain anything by this. Money was worthless now, anyway, since the invaders provided food and energy and all of the essentials.
But at least the cinema gave those few who still cared a place to gather and cling together and celebrate the not-very-distant past, when human art and history mattered.
It was only when she turned to leave that she saw it. The device had been stuck onto the side of the projector. It was shaped something like a flattened fist, silvery and iridescent, with glowing filaments reaching out to stretch over the front of the projector’s lens. Other filaments reached down inside the projector itself. The thing must have been dull before, inactive; when she’d turned the projector on, it had come to life.
“Shit,” she whispered, looking around as if someone was watching. Maybe they were. A cold chill pierced her chest.
But why would the Enpathians want to monitor a film projector? The cinema had been back up and running like this for a month, quite openly, and they hadn’t seemed to care…
Looking around the room, to the right of the projector, she noticed that one of the buckets they used to catch rainwater from the leaky roof was overflowing, leaving a puddle on the floor. The puddle was disturbed, and there were fresh, wet marks of large feet there.
Was the one with the big feet the same person… or, umm, humanoid… who’d left the device on the projector? It seemed likely. Strange though, Enpathians didn’t have large feet, she doubted that theirs were any larger than humans…
She turned and opened the door to the stairway, following those wet footprints down again. At the bottom, they led out of the door to the lobby, and across the carpet towards the concession stand, slowly fading along the way—no doubt due to the carpet absorbing the moisture.
A blonde girl in her early twenties was standing behind the glass candy case at the concession stand, her chin propped up on her arms, daydreaming.
“Yo, Karrie!’” Heather called out, and the young girl jerked and looked up, startled.
“Heather? What’s up?” she asked.
“Was there a guy here recently? With… um… very large feet?”
“Oh gawd, yes!” Karrie exclaimed. “I was just thinking about that. Dewd, you have to see him. I think he went into the theater.”
“I thought maybe it was a new guy of yours.”
“Ohhh Heather, I just wish!” Karrie sighed. “I gave him my best fuck-me look, but he didn’t seem interested.”
“He went into the theater just now?”
Karrie nodded. “I don’t think you can miss him. He must be like… I swear seven feet tall! Gorgeous long wavy hair, big brown eyes, he had some kind of long trenchcoat and… umm… no shirt.”
“That’s a violation of our customer policy,” Heather pointed out. “Did you ask him to put one on?”
Karrie giggled. “No. I was too busy enjoying staring at him!”
Heather sighed. Great. Sounds like some kind of arrogant slob.
An arrogant slob with alien technology, she reminded herself.
She thanked Karrie and headed for the cinema proper, not even sure what she would say to the guy when she found him. Hello, slobby shirtless guy—are you an Enpathian agent?
Hell, whether he was sexy or slobby, she didn’t think she was going to make any great impression on their possibly-alien visitor, regardless. There she was, a plump,
twenty-six year old woman who wasn’t even bothering with her cinema staff uniform anymore. Today, she wore an extra-large pink Wonder Woman T-Shirt and an uncomfortably tight pair of worn black jeans, with pink-and-white tennies on her feet--and a Hello Kitty wristwatch to complete her geeky ensemble. Her overly-tight cotton panties were chafing her under the jeans, and the straps of her bra were digging painfully into her back, failing to fully support her ample bosoms.
She wasn’t quite sure what to do about that last problem… Lane Bryant had been closed down since the invasion, too.
It wasn’t fair! She’d actually been losing weight before the invasion, her walking routine had become habit and she’d started really watching her portions … Then, they had come, and while everyone else was happily eating whatever processed vegetable matter they provided, she’d been sitting in a theater full on candy and popcorn and sodas, anxiously chowing down on crap.
Nostalgia for the good old days of the human race, her heroic efforts to keep the cinema running … And what did she get for it? A bigger ass.
Her dark brown hair was pulled back into an impromptu ponytail, frizzy strands radiating everywhere courtesy of the miserable rainy weather they’d been having. She tugged on it, as she had a habit of doing when she was nervous.
With a deep breath, she opened the door to the cinema. It was dark, but Heather’s eyes quickly adjusted to the gloom. There were only a few people in attendance today, mostly elderly folks, as usual. But wait… In the front row, sitting alone, was a large man with long brown hair, tall enough that his head rose over the back of the seat.
Nervous but burning with curiosity, Heather strode down the aisle, to the front of the cinema, and walked over to where he sat.
He was sprawled back in his seat, his long legs stretched out in front of him. His hair was long and wavy and full, enough to make a lot of women envious. He had big, deep eyes that flicked her way for just a second--and made her freeze like a deer in headlights. His mouth was set into a square, strong jaw, but the lips were surprisingly sensual, especially now that curled up in a bemused smile over his perfect white teeth. He had just a little bit of stubble on his cheeks, something that had always driven Heather wild.
He was indeed wearing a long, dark trenchcoat, open at the front. His torso was magnificent. Karrie had told her she’d been drooling over it, but Heather really hadn’t expected… WOW.
This was a man who was casually strong, his power built up through years of exercise. He wasn’t like one of the gym-bunny or juice-head guys her own age… This was a male animal sure of his potency.
And possibly dangerous, she reminded herself.
He wasn’t exactly hairy, but still… A trail of dark hairs ran across his chest, over his broad pecs, between his tiny, manly nipples. Another line of masculine curls ran down from there to his navel and past it to his waist, bisecting his taut, well-defined abs and disappearing into his tight jeans.
It was like he had a cross of man-hair on his torso, a symbol of testosterone-given virility. She wanted to reach out and touch it, stroke it. And to follow that “happy trail” down into his jeans…
There was an obvious bulge there, on his upper right thigh. Given how big he was, if “everything” was to scale, then…
STOP IT!, she scolded herself. You’re here to find out who he is, not to go salivating like some dim-witted college girl.
He was eating popcorn. He took a handful of kernels from the cardboard bucket, coated in something that was too yellow and too gloppy to be butter, and munched on it hungrily.
“What’s that?” she asked.
He didn’t seem to understand, and just offered her popcorn, stretching out one of his long, thick arms towards her, his huge hand big enough to cover the bottom of the large-size cardboard bucket.
She reached in tentatively and took a small clump of kernels. The smell was familiar, and when she placed the popcorn in her mouth she confirmed it: mustard. He had drenched the popcorn in mustard.
She swallowed the mouthful with effort. “Yuck,” she said. “You put mustard on your popcorn?” she asked.
He nodded. “Isn’t that a customary garnish? There was a pump right there.”
His voice had a hint of an accent—almost like Spanish, or Italian maybe? His pronunciation of English was excellent, but his choice of words and the rhythm of his speech seemed a bit… off.
“Yeah,” she said, “it’s customary… for the pretzels. But popcorn? You aren’t from around here, are you?”
He nodded. “Hmmm… Yes, I apologize for my ignorance. I am a visitor in your city.”
“I think you’re a visitor to this planet, aren’t you? What did you put on the projector up there?”
He shrugged and lifted another big handful of popcorn to his mouth, chewing casually and ignoring her.
“Hey,” she said, “I asked you a quest—“
He swallowed loudly and spoke. “It’s a recording and transmission device. I’m trying to preserve what I can of this planet’s art and culture.”
“Preserve?” she asked. “You mean, from the Enpathians?”
He nodded. “Yes, something like that.”
“You’re not working for them?”
He shook his head. “No. Are you?”
The question made anger well up inside her, and she felt her face grow hot. “NO! Not if I can help it. You might have noticed, though, they took over our planet.”
He looked into her eyes now, looked down for a moment, as if… he was sorry? Showing sympathy?
“You’re not going to report me to them, are you?” he asked in a loud whisper.
Heather snorted. “Maybe I should. What would you do, eh?”
He carefully set his popcorn bucket down on the floor…
And the, he was up in a flash. Before Heather could react, he had one thick arm around her waist, and another clamped over her mouth.
She was still stunned as he held her close to him, sitting back down and forcing her into his lap. She was a big girl—none of the guys she’d dated could even lift her—but here she was, lifted as if she’d weighed nothing, held in his lap like a child. She could feel the hardness of his bare chest behind her, and she thought the curls of his chest hair were rubbing against her ponytail.
And he still had his hand over her mouth. She opened her lips and bit down on his palm… And he didn’t react. He tasted slightly sweet, like salt and cinnamon.
“You need to relax,” he told her. “I just want to watch some more of this entertainment projection... um… movie, yes?”
Relax? She snorted angrily through her nose. I’m not your little lap dog, Mister!
She bit down again, harder this time.
He laughed. “That tickles me now. Here. You are hungry, yes?”
He pulled his hand away for a split second, and when she gasped for air, he inserted his thick, meaty thumb into her mouth.
“Gloomph!” she protested around his huge digit. It was humiliating … the thumb was bigger than most of the guys she’d ever gone down on, and as he thrashed it around in her mouth, she felt a strand of drool dripping down her chin.
She bit down again, as hard as she could, expecting to taste blood. He only responded by sliding the thumb out of her mouth and then forcing it back in again, literally “thumb-fucking” her face as she tried to clamp down on the pumping digit with her teeth.
With a “plop” he removed his thumb from her mouth, and suddenly his palm was pressed hard over her lips again.
“You need to relax, lovely one,” he said. “I wish I could trust you, but it would be harmful to have any yelling out, yes?”
She tried wriggling around, see if she could get loose. He held her waist tightly, though, and all she managed to do was to rotate her hips a tiny bit and to rub her ample behind against her captor’s lap.
She felt something poking her down there, sliding against her butt through the fabric of her jeans. Something prodding, long and insistent.
&nbs
p; THE SEXY FUN CONTINUES IN “THE BBW AND THE SPACELORD”…
http://amzn.com/B00DQSVNT0
Seized by the Star Wolf Page 9
