ALIEN STORY–6
Written by Juxian Tang
I knew when they brought him back to the storage hold. Usually I didn’t hear the sounds of the ship from my room – but it was the slightest vibration of the locks sealed I perceived.
I didn’t have the light on. It was already late when I left the crew quarters and I thought I was going to sleep. I lay very still – for hours, maybe. Only it didn’t help.
Was it because I heard him moaning when I was walking out of there? He had to be scared immensely, being left alone with the Darloxians. Humans were afraid of aliens, as far as I saw. Stupid way to take things; for all I knew it was people who had to be feared. Well, for Iver it would be a good cure from xenophobia, I thought. Not that I was going to cure him from anything, actually.
The things were falling apart. Today (or was it yesterday?) morning I knew my life was the thing I modeled – and I was satisfied with what I created. Not that I thought it perfect – but what I was doing brought the sense of equanimity in my life. And then the space launch disintegrated in the sparkling ball of fire. And my hostage was in the next room.
I wondered if it could go otherwise if I hadn’t chosen him. If I had taken someone else instead. It was not my usual way to think things – in conditional mood - but if the explosion had its air blast – it was going on in pushing me – downhill.
In the darkness I got up and walked around my room. It was all useless. Noiselessly I went to the door and pushed it. The ship was dream-like quiet. I paced out and made several steps along the corridor to the door of the storage hold. The panel lock buzzed slightly and it slid open.
And then I saw him. The light in the hold switched on only with the door ajar – a wan glimmering under the ceiling. Iver lay on the floor at the wall. He fell dozed probably – his eyes were startled when he looked at me coming in – full of dread without real thought and somehow smaller, as if misted – and he stared at me as if going to scream. But he didn’t. His mouth was gaped open – and I didn’t hear the sound of his breath. He screamed silently.
I was silent, too. Unable to say a word. What did I wait to see? I don’t know. I don’t know why I was so shocked. He didn’t have any clothes on. You see, I didn’t forget I took off almost all his clothes myself. Did I suppose the Darloxians would dress him back, huh? And they tied his hands again.
His body was jerking as if in convulsions – and after a moment I understood what it was. He tried to hide in the corner. He couldn’t do it.
I made several steps and set on my knee at him.
“Iver,” my voice was almost unrecognizable even for myself. “Iver, do you understand me?”
He didn’t have much expression in his sickly eyes; the jerking motions he continued to do were more or less refectory.
“I’ll untie you,” I said. “Do you want it? Speak to me.”
He lay on his side and partly on his chest listlessly. His cheek was pressed to the smooth shining floor. He didn’t even raise his head.
“Cold,” he whispered swiftly, in a voice that almost didn’t have any sound at all.
When I touched his hands behind his back he whined. It was a very thin complaining moan, nothing similar to what I heard before. I didn’t have any knife at hand – I presumed I could untie him like that.
In the dim light I saw strange marks on his body. It was the whole big areas discolored – as if bruised. His shoulder, his side, even his legs. I even stopped my fussing with his rope to touch the places with the tips of my fingers. I made him flinch excruciatingly. The places were flabbergastingly tender. As if his flesh under the skin was mashed.
I could not figure out it. How could he be so much bruised when I left him only some hours ago – and the Darloxians spent with him no more than an hour? I knew how careful they were with their tentacles; of course, they could give a blow of stunning force. But for all the time I knew them they didn’t inflict me even a slightest injury, even when we were fighting comically.
It’s his skin, I thought. His skin’s too vulnerable.
The rope fastening him gave in. I took his hands – so thin in wrists that I could clasp my palm around both of them – and so sizzlingly hot that it stunned me – and pulled them out of the loops. He moaned.
“Stop it,” I said quickly. “I am not hurting you.”
I squeezed his wrists so tight that I could feel the threads of his pulse – so rapid as if it indicated a heart of a bird.
“Come on, Iver,” I whispered. “Stand up! I want you to”
I let off one of his hands and pulled him by the other. I had to call his name to silence his groans. I pulled him – he was inert, dragging after me, with his temple still pressed to the floor.
“Please,” he asked at last. “Please, I can’t.”
I didn’t like it.
“What’s that?” letting him go I shook his shoulder. My fingers dug into the unbearably tender skin of his bruise. “What’s with you? You are okay. I know it. They fucked you? Did they?”
I didn’t meant it like a question. It was him who answered.
“Yes, they did.”
I broke in. I wanted to say what I wanted to say, not to listen to him.
“Well, there is nothing extraordinary. Everything living copulate. You won’t be any the worse for it. Iver!” did I try to reason him; I sneered nervously having this thought. “You are not even bleeding!”
I tugged him again. This time he resisted a little – and somehow it was of use for me – because I overpowered him and made him unfold. He was on his knees when I saw it.
The right side of his chest was deformed. The sight made me gasp and stay still, just gaping at it dumbly. What was it? There was a welt on his chest – yeah, it looked like a welt the most probably – a scarlet puffy swell, like a bolster of flesh. It distorted the outline of his chest. It seemed throbbing. It didn’t bleed. It was just huge and swollen and inflamed. I needed some time to realize it was his nipple there.
“Iver,” I had to find my voice – in several attempts but I did it. “Iver, what is it?”
I shook him. I made him understand what I meant.
“Stung,” his voice was so feeble.
My throat was contracting. But why?! I knew the tentacles of the Darloxians with the stingers – thin and delicate things under their primary limbs. They used the stingers for paralyzing if they hunted. If they hunted! Why did they do it?
He had to struggle, I thought. He resisted them and they had to. It was the only way to pacify him. Surely, it was like that.
But the welt was so big. And the venom – they injected the venom to their preys – it didn’t paralyze him. It was probably the metabolism of a human. I saw how the venom worked on animals – from different planets. Never on a human. But on what human could it be used? We didn’t have any humans besides me until then aboard. What will be with it after? I couldn’t look at it. It was ghastly. I reached my hand and touched the puffy swelling. It was hot. Even hotter than Iver’s body. He shuddered clenching his teeth.
“It burns,” he said.
I was gasping noisily, unable to control my own breath. But I had to.
“It will pass,” I assured him. It had to.
Standing up and stooping I went on raising him. I didn’t like to see him this way – so faint. He had to stand upright. He had to be able.
“Iver,” I hailed him again. “Don’t pretend. I know you can do it.”
I rested him against the wall. Even with me standing so close he was going to collapse, I felt. His head was tossed back. He looked at me lifelessly, his eyes weary and expressionless.
I grasped his wrists again. He had bruises even on his hands! But it must have not bothered him terribly. He was slithering down. The only way to keep him upright was to raise his wrists above his head. I did it, seizing both of them in one my hand and pressing them to the wall.
He was flabby in my grip, hanging on his hands, almost didn’t set his weight on his feet. I kept him.
When I raised his hands I saw another one in his armpit. This one was not so monstrously looking. But it had to hurt him – in this tender place. I was dumbfound.
I looked at Iver’s face. This way as I held him his face was down in front of me. His lids sank covering his terribly pained eyes – and he opened them again. But there was no much animation in his gaze.
His soft mouth was so close to me – I looked at it even more than I looked in his eyes. Its corner was torn – as if he was smiling crookedly all the time. It was intolerable. I had hard-on at him. Plain and simple. From the moment when I saw him naked in this room I felt the excitement again – and no marks I found on his body could change it. Only make it more urgent.
The thin cloth of my pajama pants was raised with my throbbing cock. My head was burning. The urge to press the torturing thing between my legs to something soft and yielding was irresistible. I wanted to press it to Iver’s belly. Only – you see - there was some mess with his genitals, I even didn’t look there attentively. But still I was able to do it. I knew it. I knew if I stood like this for some more – I would stop caring at all whether he would be hurt with me – and I would press my organ to his smashed balls – and if he cried and jerked it would only be good to feel for me. And I could kiss his torn mouth roughly and lingeringly and touch his tender places – feeling him quivering under me.
It was what I wanted to do. It was what I was capable to do.
It was him who moved me. Him, Iver. From the first moment when I saw him. So neat his suave suit. So civil. The thing was it was impossible for me to take anyone else instead of him. It was him I wanted.
“The human,” the voice behind me said and I released Iver’s wrists. “The human was used well.”
Even without looking back I knew it was Neaf. He was not it the room – too small it was for three of us – but I felt his bulk behind me – and his tentacles gliding in the air.
When I lost Iver, he fell down, crumbled, as if he didn’t have any strength of his own. He lay at my feel now, curled in a tight ball, with his face hidden under his arms. I turned to Neaf.
“I saw the light and thought it could be Hurluck or Wagr here,” he said slowly and calmly.
“I thought I heard something from here,” I almost interrupted him. Could it be with two doors locked? But Neaf was not going to catch me lying.
“Don’t worry, brother,” his voice was almost soft – as far as his organs allowed him – and gentle anyway. “I see what brought you here.”
I faced him, without backing when his tentacle reached and lay down on my groin. My stiff member pulsated under the touch. It was what I needed.
“No shame, brother,” Neaf almost whispered. “No shame before me.”
His tentacle was massaging my erection slightly – very careful, pleasantly cold touch on my hot shaft.
“We are seldom together now,” he said quietly, his voice tranquilizing, hypnotic almost. “Too seldom.”
“Yes,” I whispered back to him. Our eyes were locked. He touched me – my chin, my hair – without stopping caressing my cock. He made his tentacle almost flat – like a palm rubbing my penis giddily.
“I would like to take care of you forever,” he said. “You remember. How it was.”
“Yes,” I whispered again. “I don’t have to remember. I just never forget.”
“I could do everything for you,” Neaf rustled. I didn’t answer. And he didn’t need my answer really. He didn’t give me any time. The tentacle receded – suddenly – the space between us startled me – it seemed hardly believable that he could touch me from there.
“The human is very fine in making pleasure,” Neaf said abruptly. There was no that intimacy in his voice any more. Rather business-like it was. “Even though it is undersized for us. But for you he will do all right. You should taste him.”
I was licking my lips. Neaf sounded cool and easy.
“I know you like making pleasure with humans,” he went on. “And this one at least doesn’t have any of those bad diseases you used to catch when going to brothels.”
I giggled. It was the only sound I made. Neaf made a step forward. For a moment I didn’t understood his intentions. He stooped and wrapped two of his tentacles around Iver. I heard Iver’s short shriek.
“I’ll hold him for you,” Neaf said raising him from the floor. Iver didn’t uncurl, he was still wound up in this ball – as if it could make him small enough for Neaf to lose him. Neaf put him in front of me, on his face and knees. “How do you want him? Like that?”
I saw his two other tentacles bracing Iver’s ankles and pulling them apart. He was trying to open his back hole for me. The sight was obscene. I felt sick. I felt I didn’t have enough air. And really – in this tiny hold – it was too much.
“No,” I barely found my voice. “Not here. In my room.”
“Sure,” Neaf agreed quietly and picked Iver up again. He tossed him on his shoulder and waited for me in the corridor until I entered my room. He came after me. “Where to put him?”
I looked around. My bed was too high and too narrow for anything. I waved my hand feebly.
“On the floor. No. His face to me.”
There was no possibility to make him stand, even on his knees, I thought. Of course, Neaf could hold him for me – but for some reason I didn’t want it. There was too much of rubber doll in him even without it. Was I going to do what I was going to do with this rubber doll? I was afraid, yes.
I slid down on my knees in front of him.
“Hey,” I brushed Iver’s soft hair with my hand, finding his own fingers plaited in. “Look at me. You hear me, stupid thing?”
He didn’t uncover his face. I gripped his hair – without any force - and pulled his face up. I had to struggle with his hands again – but when I did it he looked at me almost lucidly. His sweet mouth was so close that it made me ache inside.
“Here is something for a change for you, cunty,” I muttered half-coherently. “Not so big as my friends have, unfortunately. I know you are lusty for their big things, you space prostitute…”
I wanted his injured mouth on my cock badly. I even couldn’t speak more. I pressed his face to my crotch through the cloth – for a moment – and his hot breath on my rod was intolerable. I yanked my pants down.
Now there was no any barrier between my swollen shaft and his gratifying lips. I sank his face down on it, feeling him opening his mouth submissively. The insides of his mouth were sizzling.
“Darren…” I heard Neaf whispering in a mellow voice. I hissed. The delight was too keen. The head of my cock pressed into Iver’s palate. It didn’t go further. It could – I could change the angle – but I was not sure I wanted it. It was so nice to go just like this.
Even if he didn’t suck. Let’s say, nothing of sucking to speak about. I think he tried – he probably presumed I wanted it and he chose to obey – but his motions were so faint that it almost moved me.
“No, Iver,” I whispered to him. “No, clumsy whore, I’ll do it myself.”
I gripped his hair more conveniently and tugged his head up. His lips, half-dry, scraped my penis. He was not neat with his teeth, too. I pulled him up and pressed him down, his forehead setting against my belly. His smooth skin was slightly wet. I banged again and again feeling that he gave up any motions he tried to do. The only thing he did was to keep his mouth open – and I slid it up and down on my shaft accelerating.
I didn’t prevent him from breathing – I heard his shallow inconvenient gasps – through his nose and around my cock - disordered. And I didn’t make him retch. I didn’t try to make him deep-throat. It was his mouth I worked with.
The sight made me be content even if the feeling was queer. His blond head bobbing against my dark-haired crotch. His hair was rather dirty by then – but still so soft it was, so fascinatingly fair.
“Darren,” Neaf whispered again. “Look at me.”
I looked. He asked about it. He was hard, too. His giant cock was pointing straight at me – though there was quite a lot of space between us.
“Humans are lovely,” Neaf breathed out.
Two of his tentacles reached to me, the lower ones, stretching. He touched my neck, cool sensation of slippery pliant things. He stroked me. And he was stroking his own member, too. His tertiary tentacle was wrapped around it, sliding around, slowly at first and more rapidly after some time. He reached the speed very quickly. The same speed I was fucking Iver’s mouth with.
I did it very fast. Iver was breathing fast, too, almost as if my frantic motions robbed him of breath. He stopped stirring his head a long time ago – now it was only my hand that guided it. I beat his mouth. He couldn’t even hide his teeth with this speed – but it was not what I cared about. I knew I would care afterwards but – not now. I battered his lips numb with my terribly fast thrusting. I was bruising his mouth. I knew it. I liked it this way.
Suddenly I felt him jerking. It was because of Neaf. I saw him bowlegged behind Iver’s back, with his tentacle slithering in his bum. He pushed it to his opening. That was it. That was what made Iver choke.
“Tight human,” Neaf whispered. “This human was never penetrated before us.”
By now Iver was very animated. He rocked his body, as if trying to escape – but no way. He was impaled from both ends. My cock in his mouth and Neaf’s tentacle in his rear end kept him all firmly. And still he writhed. The tentacle was not so thick as the cock of a Darloxian. I saw Neaf screwing the tentacle inside him, rotating it together with thrusting.
“Good human,” he exhaled.
Iver’s fingers clenched on the cloth of my pants – so, that his fingernails became white. Neaf was sliding his cock against his narrow back, on one side of his spine. His cock was dripping.
I wondered if he was going to insert it. The size was why I doubted. But he had to be able to accommodate them, Iver, I thought, he said it to me himself.
“Do you mind?” Neaf asked me. He retrieved his tentacles from my face. Now he used them to spread Iver’s legs up and wider, pushing his ass up from the floor.
How could I mind? We were brothers.
I saw him directing his penis between Iver’s ass-cheeks. The size was incredibly wrong! It was dizzying to watch it; it even made me stop the thrumming.
Pressing Iver’s face to my crotch I sat still. Neaf took his tentacle out of the hole and I saw him starting squeezing his phallus into Iver.
It looked morbid. I didn’t see much – only how inevitably Neaf’s member was submerging in Iver’s body – slowly but without interruptions. I didn’t hear any sound from Iver, even a muffled one. It was like he stopped breathing.
His back was shuddering. His muscles were trembling. He had to be tensed hugely. His fingers were now digging in the flesh of my thighs – but I could bet he didn’t notice it. There was something hot wet leaking out of his mouth on my crotch – his spat or, maybe, I tore his mouth again.
Neaf sighed out delightedly.
“Come on, brother,” he whispered to me. “Don’t stop. I want us like this.”
He pulled out and sent his cock back. A growl went out of him. It was him who was groaning, not Iver.
Neaf thrust him steadily and deliberately. He gripped Iver’s hips in his tentacles, pulling him, shifting him – he shifted me this way because we were all clenched.
“Let it in his mouth,” he was forcing me. “My Darren. Well,” in a couple of attempts he resigned. “You don’t want to. Wait then. I’ll soon. Will you?”
I kept silent. I simply couldn’t find any appropriate words. He moved in and out of Iver’s ass, evenly, calmly, pulling Iver’s body on his penis – as if he was a thing to be pulled on. A thing that vibrated under my hands, with its wet face pressed between my legs. At last Neaf froze still. Several seconds passed – in absolute silence – until he sighed heavily and settled back, taking his falling organ out of Iver.
He had ejaculated. He was done.
It was when Iver gave up. His cry was half-choked, desperately tired. It tore my nerves.
I grabbed him. I moved myself and shook and moved him, spinning him for 180 degrees. I plucked his hands clenched on my clothes without care. I didn’t bother if I hurt his injuries. My motions were so rough that it made him stand on his fours almost steadily. I groped his ass-cheeks and pried them open.
The place was rent. It made me wince. I was terrified to look at this damage – but I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. There was nothing normal left with his perineum. The hole in its center – where his anus had to be – was the ripped pit swelling with blood. He was bleeding savagely – there was a continuous blood stream on the floor – tracing the way I span him. His skin was torn in many places – like the splits from a bullet on glass. It was black with bruises where not torn. And it gaped.
It was not shutting – like it usually had to be, like even the most loosy openings are shutting close. It didn’t contract. I could put my hand inside him without resistance.
Neaf’s whitish slime was leaking out of it freely. The mixture of the liquids looked sickening. But I was not really sick. It was like I stopped seeing anything except this racked opening. And into it I directed my hot stiff shaft.
He shivered. He still felt me, for all this – and I felt only velvety grip around my cock – the walls of his rectum, warm and clammy and bloody-damp. For a moment an idea struck me that it was all the same as to fuck into an open wound. It was, of course. There was nothing that was not raw inside him.
“Fuck him, Darren,” Neaf said over me. “I like seeing you like this.”
And I fucked. I stopped reveling in the sensation after a couple of strokes. It was just battering itself. I slammed into him – my belly slapping on his cleft swiftly with wet sharp sound. It was so speedy – the resistance was so light that nothing limited my tempo. Iver was weeping under me – almost inaudibly. Even if he screamed I wouldn’t pay attention, the most probably. Like that it was only a tiny harmonic sound – an accompaniment to what I was doing. I rammed into him furiously, almost without breath – and even then I was not going to stop.
I went rigid when I was shooting. It seemed his torn orifice gave such access for me that I’ve never known. I was buried deep inside him, with my balls mashed against his cleft, feeling the jets of my semen spurting out of my testicles. It was over.
And then all my strength left me. Weaker that I’ve ever been I felt – drained out. I was falling. I was falling down on him. He didn’t have enough strength to bear my weight, of course. It was no wonder for me when he slid slowly of the floor under me – and I fall over him, with my cock still in his ragged opening. His hot bony shape under me was not still. I was.
I heard Neaf’s friable laughing above me.
The End of Part 6
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