by Zora Jorel
Fire lust. The Duqaanian term for what I’m feeling, this…this…attraction. It’s knowledge that’s creeping into my head like sand in an hourglass, threatening to make me see things, hear things, feel things, I don’t want to.
You cannot run.
The hell I can’t, you dead alien bitch. I rush past a shiny surface and catch my reflection. I’m like a curvy mermaid, a couple of starfish on her tits and one sucking on her pussy.
THUD.
Before I can reach the door, I run right into an invisible barrier. It’s some sort of shield. No, no, no!
Through the door’s glass, I see people walking to and fro, completely oblivious as to me being here. Or that there’s an alien in their midst.
I bang on the shield, but the sound is hollow. Muted. Suddenly, my view of the outside goes dark, like a movie fading to black.
“I cannot say I won’t enjoy this, Brea Stone.” His voice is like mini-quakes down my spine. I half-turn and he’s already on top of me, and the next moment I’m in the air and over his shoulder.
“Let. Me. Go.” I command with authority I haven’t used since my days with the EEF. Lot of good it does, though. My beating against his rock hard back is like fighting a tree trunk. “I have a life to get back to! My cousin…”
“This could’ve gone so much easier. Remember that, Brea. You’ve brought all of this on yourself.”
Frustrated, I try to bite him. Markuz hesitates, just for a moment, before continuing his march.
His grip is vice-like, and my mind flashes being trapped beneath his body, caged while he thrusts his cock in my sopping pussy.
Gaining a little leverage, I send an elbow to his ear. He growls.
Uh oh.
I see it coming, but I guess I don’t believe it until I feel it. His hand, wide and firm, coming down on my backside.
WHAP!
“Aagh!” The pain is sharp, and I can do nothing but clench my teeth afterwards.
Again. Do it again.
I send another elbow to his head, and this time he stops and spanks me properly like a wayward child.
Whap. Whap. WHAP.
Every strike is an attack on my will, burning through my core until it reaches the pleasure center beneath.
Whap. Whap.
Oh god, I have to squeeze my legs from the sheer thrill of it. Here I am, a grown ass woman, getting off being spanked by a gray, seven-foot alien cop, while I’m wearing nothing but a barely-there mesh bodysuit with demon-starfish on her tits and pussy.
Whap.
Markuz strikes again, this time his fingers trailing between the moons of my ass, brushing against my swollen, wet lips.
Looking over my shoulder, I see him bring his finger up to his mouth, licking it. His body rumbles, his skin superheated beneath my body.
He roars before continuing his bumpy march, each step causing my mesh to rub against my body in a way that sends threads of dark electricity throughout my body. To make matters worse, the starfish continue to suck and nuzzle at me, a continuous pulsing that threatens to remove all inhibition. I feel light headed.
He slams the door to the interrogation room and throws me back onto the chair, onto my sore bottom. There’s no getting away this time, as I’m tightly secured. He takes the pendant, pondering what to do with it, before placing it back around my neck.
“You can’t keep me here!”
Markuz sneers and shakes his head. He’s darker than he was before, his green eyes deeper. More intense.
“Now that you’ve gotten that out of your system, will you be a good little Earthan and do as I command?”
With all the will I can muster, I do what I should’ve from the beginning “Stone, Breanka. Sergeant. March 12, 2025. 274637150.“ He’ll get nothing else from me.
He crosses his arms and chuckles. The bastard flat out laughs at me.
“Have it your way.” He pulls out a strap of leather with a rounded ball in its center. He holds me firm and straps it over my mouth. All I can do is scream into the ball and bite.
“Verbals interfere with this part of the process anyway. What I’m going to do is expose you to various stimuli and gauge your emotional response.” He connects a couple of tiny electrodes to my temple. “I need to see who you really are, unfettered by the mental barriers you’ve constructed.”
Mental barriers? This is at least the second time he’s mentioned them. It’s not like I’m hiding anything from anyone, especially not myself.
You lie.
Oh shut up, stupid voice in my head. You’re beginning to piss me off and you clearly don’t know what you’re talking about.
I know my mind. I’m in control of my thoughts. Most of the time, anyway.
At that very moment, my little starfish pals bite harder on my nipples and clit, sending jolts of pure pain throughout my body.
“Excellent,” Markuz says, bringing his face down to my level. “As you can see, when you’re not being truthful with yourself or to me, you’ll experience pain. Be honest,” he says, leaning into my ear, “and you’ll feel nothing but pleasure. Won’t that be nice? Just like when I carried you on my back and you wanted me to rut you like a derg.” He leans back and gazes at me cockily.
I did not want him to ‘rut me like a derg‘, whatever the hell that m…ooooooh.
The little bastard attached to my hard clit is going to town. Maybe when this is all over, I should get his phone number, because no one has ever concentrated on my knob the way it has. It hurts, and the pain snakes its way from my pussy alway the way to my ass, forcing me to clench. It’s not a fun sensation at all, yet…there’s a fullness there I’ve never felt.
The pain is better than nothing at all, but I can’t take much more of this.
Okay, maybe I want Markuz to ‘rut’ me, just a little…
Eeek! Little buddy isn’t having it, and neither are his friends. The pain is too intense. There’s a balance between being hurt and finding pleasure, and this isn’t it.
The intensity continues to build.
Just admit it. It will set you free.
Shut up, stupid voice. This is not the time for your ridiculous psychobabble.
“Aaagh!” I scream. I feel drool beginning to pool around my mouth, the pain is so strong. “Fine! I want you to rut me so fucking bad.” I scream out loud, not in control. What’s worse is that I know I could’ve just admitted the fact in my head and achieved the same result.
The pain immediately subsides, replaced with a soothing warmness, hinting at further pleasure if I just play ball.
“Was that so hard?” Markuz looks down at me smugly. I swear to god I want to just wipe the cockiness from his gray face.
No, no I don’t! I correct myself, feeling the starfish beginning to do its pain thing. I’m losing control! This isn’t me! I can’t afford to relinquish any leverage I might have. But this…is going to be hard.
Not as hard as the monster bulge eye level with me, through Markuz’s pants. My mouth waters at the thought of taking his cock in my mouth. I wonder if it’s gray too. Maybe textured. Possibly carved in some ancient alien language.
Markuz strokes my face. “You can do this. I promise.”
Great, he’s trying to reassure me while all I want to do is take his cock and swallow his alien seed. Admitting it brings another dose of warm gooey pleasure to my sensitive areas. I’m sitting in a pool of my own juices. How the hell does he expect me to finish this test, or whatever it is.
Markuz presses a button on a remote in his hand, and a projection appears in front of me. The image is a purple and green landscape, and I can immediately tell its alien.
“How does this make you feel, Brea?”
“I…I don’t feel anything.” Pain. Starfish buddies, why do you hate me so much?
“Try again.”
I don’t want to be hurt again. “How the hell am I supposed to feel anything? I’ve never been there!”
Home.
Suddenly my mind flashes with ima
ges of aliens, a male and female, smiling down at me as if I’m a little girl. Such love. Something I never got from my own parents. Memories flood my head of me riding an animal reminiscent of a horse, only with six legs, and much more hair.
My…mother…smiles at me, as she helps me dismount. She takes me to have lunch at a large, luminescent willow-like tree. I feel…
“Happy.” The warmth floods my nipples and clit. I bite my lip, trembling at the mini-orgasm.
“Excellent.” Markuz rubs my scalp, his fingers trailing down my wet neck. I strain to meet his touch.
“Not yet,” he corrects me, his voice domineering.
Markuz repeats the test with various other images, scents, and sounds, all initially foreign to me until I allow myself to let go. The voice in my head guides me, helping me embrace her memories as if my own. Because they are.
Kulan and I form an uneasy truce in my mind. The pendant around my neck pulses with life, connecting us.
“One more test,” Markuz says, kneeling to free me from my bonds. I’m too spent to run, to try to once again escape. He takes my hand and lays my palm on his check. I gulp as he slides it down his rock hard abs.
Memories of being bound, of being punished and loving every moment of it, fill my head. I cum thinking about him fucking Kulan—no, him fucking me—beneath twin moons of a distant solar system.
It’s stupid of me to feel jealous of someone who’s dead, whose essence is now a part of me, but I want nothing more than to claim him as mine and mine alone.
My hand moves down further to unbuckle his pants.
“Yes, Brea. Now open wide.”
4
Brea sits below me, her eyes wet with emotion. This preliminary interrogation has taken a toll on her. I could just kill myself for putting her through this ordeal, but it IS necessary. I’ve risked much to find her and to find the truth locked within her mind. To help her accept what she needs to become. A sania. A rising queen.
Mine.
What Kulan and I had was special in its way. I was her most trusted Protector, and she my sania, a hope for a brighter future for the people of Duqaan. She and her four sister-princesses were to usher in a new era for us, to help us evolve beyond the coldness and rigidness of thought that has plagued us for generations.
They came to Earth to conquer it as a dowry to their betrothed.
But now they’re dead. Kulan’s dead.
She was my sera, my genetic mate. The one to be my wife. Once I learned of her demise, I resigned myself to a solitary existence. I mourned a life with Kulan that was never meant to be.
What’s left of her, however, resides within Brea, like an echo in the mist. Kulan is a memory it’s time for me to move on from. Brea is here. Now. I’ll be damned if I lose her.
She looks at me conflicted. Her hands move down to my belt and unbuckle my pants.
With every hesitation, the tetlu stings her, causing her to bite her lip in the most adorable way.
There’s no fighting, no lying to herself this time. She wants this. I want it more.
When she pulls down my pants, my throbbing single-cock erupt, almost slapping her in the face. Her lips are wet with desire, and she licks them, starved.
“This isn’t right. I…I can’t…AAGH!” Her entire body trembles in agony. Her scent, however, betrays something more. Her cunt is practically drowning in its own cream, the alternating pain and pleasure impulses from the tetlu driving her to the edge.
“Yes, you can.”
She licks her lips again, before sticking out her tongue and tasting the precum on my tip.
Stars. I already see stars. She places a soft hand around my base and I just know I’m not going to last.
This infernal Earthan. She was supposed to be nothing but a means to an end, an aide in my investigation, a vessel to preserve Kulan’s legacy.
Instead, she’s going to be the death of me.
Brea takes another lick, this time letting my Duqaanian cum roll on her tongue. Generations of genetic engineering have imbued my semen with a thick, fruity taste. It’s supposed to be addictive. Or so I’ve been told.
Brea closes her eyes, tasting it and finding it most satisfying. I hear the smacking of moisture as she squeezes her thighs.
The tetlu expand and contract, feeding on her pleasure and reenforcing it. Encouraging it. Yes, she wants this as much as me, and the more she embraces it the better off she’ll be.
But this isn’t just about her well-being. I’ve been perpetually hard since I first saw her. I knew right then who she was, what she was.
My sera. My genetic mate, just as Kulan. And maybe something much, much more.
Brea looks up, and she must see the desperation on my face. It spurs her, knowing that suddenly she’s the one in control.
Licking my still single cock, she coats it until its nice and thick. Then she strokes me firmly, confidently, the fire in her eyes palpable.
I growl. She kisses and teases my cockhead with her soft tongue, her thick glistening lips.
The buildup within me reaches a untenable level. A change of state is coming, as inevitable as water boiling to steam.
Brea’s eyes widen as my cock writhes, blood pooling within it until it divides. Cock mitosis runs in my family, a gift from Vali to the women we choose to rut.
She looks up at me, a bit fearful and unsure of what to do next.
“Both hands,” I manage to grunt.
Brea nods, taking both of my twin cocks with her hands. She strokes, moving her lips from cock to cock, kissing and licking, never letting either go too long without attention.
“Oh fuck,” she moans, and I can tell that the tetlu’s influence has her at heights she’s never before reached.
Her body stiffens and shakes, as an orgasm overtakes it. She takes one of my cocks in her mouth as a pacifier, and that’s all it takes to drive me over the edge as well.
One cock shoots my Duqaanian cum into her warm, waiting mouth, while the other covers her body.
When the waves of pleasure finally subside, I bend down and kiss her the way she deserves to be kissed. Her mouth is so small compared to mine, that I feel like I’m consuming her like a predator.
Oh, but I am. As she’ll soon find out.
Brea melts into me.
Sexy little Earthan.
I remove the tetlu from her tits, admiring how brown and swollen her nipples are. I give each a soft kiss before removing the drenched tetlu from her cunt.
I pick up the unconscious Brea and carry her to my sleeping quarters. There’s no need for shackles. No way will she be able to rise anytime soon.
Taking her into my body, I cradle her and we both sleep.
My sera.
My jenu. The word and its implications echo in my head.
What the hells have we gotten ourselves into?
5
Brea sleeps on my cot, and I admire every inch of her beauty. She reminds me of goddesses in Duqaanian lore, before the days we roamed the stars to conquer. She’s a work of art. Luscious lips. Wide curves. Heavy, full tits that sway with her every breath. Plump, thick cunt lips ready made for a rutting only a Duqaanian warrior can give.
Cocks have mercy. I could just spread her brown, round thighs right now and plunge in. There’s no way a human male could ever satisfy her the way she deserves. No man even deserves a chance.
She is so much different than modern Duqaanian beauties. As a people, we have grown cold and efficient, emphasizing leanness and angularity. Do not get me wrong, Duqaanian women are still beautiful. Strong. Fierce. The pride of our star system, as capable and intelligent as the men, even if in the bedroom the expectation is complete and willing submission to our every need.
But Brea’s curves and softness, combined with her warrior spirit, would be worshipped among the males of my world.
Rage bubbles in my chest even thinking about any other looking at her.
I scrape my fingertip among the markings on her arm. It is an etchi
ng of service and duty, similar to the badge on my chest.
A hellcat. The military group she belonged to. The ones to face down a Duqaanian horde and come out on top.
I still can’t believe it.
Putting on a black shirt, my coat, and a hat I picked up from a local Earthan vendor, I curse myself for having to leave. But I need to make rounds, and my body anxiously craves to roam. Although if it meant I could rut Brea throughout Earth’s day and night cycle indefinitely, I’d be happy to never leave.
The force field pops as I disable it, allowing me outside. I’m greeted by the cool day air.
Coming to Earth, I knew little of what to expect. The preliminary intel gathered by Kulan and the sholqua—band of sister sania—only hinted at what this world has to offer. Such a diversity of thought and people, of art and entertainment. And food. I must admit, I’ve grown to especially like the food.
Long ago, to maximize efficiency in support of imperialistic endeavors, the Duqaan Empire adopted a homogeneity to almost everything. What I most appreciated about Kulan was that, despite her reputation as a tough arbiter of justice, she recognized our people would have to change if we were to survive and prosper for a new age.
I admire Earthans for being able to just…be. To not base every decision on what benefits a larger political entity. To not have to live life for a preordained purpose.
I sigh. Such a spirit of freedom will certainly die once my people have its way. If they believed one failed attempt at an invasion would be enough to sate our expansionist lust, these Earthans have another thing coming. To be conquered by the Sholqua would have been a defeat, but an honorable one without fear of cruel subjugation. The human spirit would’ve persevered. Under the new Duqaanian regime, however, Earth would be crushed. This beautiful spark of individuality, snuffed out.
Of course, with the freedoms Earthans have come to enjoy, come self-inflicted drawbacks.
“Howdy, ma’am,” I say in my best imitation of a…cowboy…accent, to an older Earthan female who reddens as we pass. I scent the pheromonal rise between her legs, but it is of no interest to me.
I’ve been doing this for weeks: walking amongst Earthans, interacting, watching vids, learning the language, consuming the goods. And never once have I been met with more than a passing interest.
