by Stanley Gray
The crab cakes came, and Alan divvied them up. Since there were six, he made sure to give both of them three. He poured some of the sweet dipping sauce onto his small white plate.
“Yeah. That’s some serious shit.” Alan said, between sensual groans. Butter glistened on his face, and a few moist, delicate crumbs trickled out of his mouth.
“These crab cakes are amazing.” Dale said, then looked up at Alan and laughed.
Chapter 9
She smelled like sex feels.
He walked inside, slightly buzzed and coasting on the warm feeling one gets after enjoying a great meal with friends. Part of him dreaded going home, or, more specifically, reacquainting himself with his extraterrestrial sublessee. On the ride home, all he could think about was that.
But, of course, he couldn’t just expect the usual with Xenobia. She possessed strange paranormal powers, but she also used confusion to help manage her prey. Alan began to understand that, as he was swept up into the waves of her carefully concocted chaos. Prey. He was little more than meat to her.
He shut the door, and the aroma ran soft fingers over his neck. His skin tingled, and his body became warmer. He felt it. He didn’t want to feel it. But the tumescence growing in his pants asserted itself. His dick grew so hard, it hurt.
The scent felt hard to define. He inhaled. Lavender and lilac, but mixed with something faintly exotic. Foreign. Alan walked towards the source of the powerful smell, entranced. Dominated by primal need, he could only listen to the stray thoughts as they raced past, their rocket boosters blasting. One thought in particular proved strong enough to give him pause, breaking the spell cast by the bewitching alien and her aromatherapy. He smiled. The idea was so genius, he could only feel a slight sense of admiration for the levels this one would go to to entrap him.
What if she’s using pheromones? Oxytocin? he thought.
Resuming his slow march to the master suite, Alan sensed his heart beat accelerating. His palms felt sweaty. Adrenaline and euphoria danced in his veins. Visions of his first sexual experience in the back of an old Chevy rushed at him, dizzying in their intensity. Lust pulsed in every fiber of his being, consuming him with a powerful and urgent need. Only one thing could happen at this point. Alan was ready to explode.
He hesitated on the threshold of his bedroom. Inside, he saw a beautiful brunette woman. Clad in racy red lingerie, the phantom possessed a buxom, curvaceous body and her smile beckoned. She wanted him. Intensity shimmered in her bright green eyes.
But, Alan knew. He knew the thing he saw wasn’t real. The image looked frighteningly like Sharon. The alien succubus behind the veil of hallucinations was the one he was about to penetrate.
He felt it. He turned to run, but was too late. The piercing headache. The buzzing that damaged his jaw. He clenched his teeth and cried, falling against the wall and sliding down to the floor. The pain jabbed him repeatedly in the face like Mike Tyson. He curled up and tried to cover his ears with trembling hands.
Xenobia came to him, disguised as the nymphs he fantasized about. And she somehow carried him into her lair.
Alan came to. He flailed as he opened his eyes. He’d descended into unconsciousness during the episode, the blinding pain had been so brutal. But, his arms were tied to the bedpost. And, when he looked down, he saw a buxom beauty sucking him off.
He strained, the muscles and veins in his neck corded. He thrashed from side to side. The moue of genuine horror plastered on his sweat-drenched face was not the look one might normally associated with the consensual sex act. But, of course, nothing about this was consensual. He was being raped inside and out by this alien creature sent from some planet with a fucked-up Russian name.
Xenobia just continued on, unconcerned with Alan’s struggles.
She was in complete control.
She did something, a little flick of the tongue, that sent shivers of sensual ecstasy through him. He loved the feeling, and hated that he loved it. He relaxed back against the headboard. If resistance was futile, he decided he might as well enjoy this while it lasted.
She did it again. He grunted. Arching his back, tensing his legs, he wagged his johnson and silently pleaded for more.
[Did you like that?]
Alan shook his head. He tried to close his eyes, squinting them shut. A tear escaped. But, he nodded.
Xenobia did it again. Alan opened his eyes, and saw a gorgeous brunette. Finally, he succumbed to the delusion. He allowed himself to fall into the trap. He watched this mirage as it sucked his cock. And began to enjoy it.
Then, just as he was about to come, she stopped. He whimpered.
Feeling her shift, he focused, and watched as she left the room. He lay there, panting, testicles aching for sweet release, consumed by rapacious desire. But, his hands were tied. Literally. He tried to test them again, straining, but the knots held. What was he to do?
A corsair of fear sped through the coastal waters of his brain when she returned.
He tried to mouth a scream, but the tortured panic died in his throat. Sweat rolled down his forehead, stinging his eyes. Alan wasn’t even sure someone should be able to perspire like that. He shook his head back and forth, silently begging Xenobia not to do this.
The fantasy image stood in the door way, nice, perky boobs telling their erotic tales, nipples proud soldiers at attention. But, instead of the sheer red thong it’d been wearing, it now wore a long, black strap-on dildo.
[Don’t you want to spice things up? I promise I’ll be gentle.]
Alan shook his head. His mouth felt like the Gobi desert.
[Unless you fight me. Then…you might need a special doctor.]
“What…if…I use…the bathroom?” Alan meekly said, quivering as he stared at that obsidian device. It looked like a deadly spear. He worked up a scream, and was about to release it, when Xenobia was on him, covering his mouth. He bit down, and felt a slight give. A warm gelatinous fluid trickled into his mouth, and he had no choice but to swallow the vile blood. He began to choke, and it was only then that Xenobia allowed him to breathe. He gasped for air.
[Come on, Alan. Please? It won’t hurt. It’ll make you come so much harder.]
After a moment. [I’ll let one hand go.]
Alan opened his eyes. He blinked repeatedly when he saw Xenobia then, and not the elaborate forgery. “What do you want from me?”
[This.] She held up a long black phallus.
“But, why?” he asked.
[Does it matter, Alan? I want to make your dreams come true. Will you help me make my dreams come true?]
“All the fucking technology in the world, and all you want is to butt fuck some dude.” Alan remarked.
[Not just some dude, Alan. You. All of my life, I have only yearned for you.]
Alan almost laughed. It seemed surreal. He felt curious, despite the circumstances. Why was it so important for her to gain his consent? She obviously could have done it, three times, already. She was a fucking alien, with all sorts of crazy powers. But, she wanted his consent.
And, he was going to give it to her. Under duress, but he was going to surrender to her. Why?
“I guess I’ve been blocking stuff out my whole life.” Alan said. He only spoke the words because he knew she knew. He wondered if that’s why he’d been picked. He understood he’d been selected, somehow, for this macabre privilege. Maybe at some point, someone would clue him in to why.
And so it was that he reluctantly agreed to get sodomized by an extraterrestrial.
The image returned, though this time, it seemed grainy. With his freed hand, he reached out and was surprised when he felt real flesh.
When the adult toy penetrated him, it hurt. Though the pain failed to meet the horrible expectations he’d formed in his mind. He tried to relax, and when Xenobia lifted his legs, the pain became more of a dull ache. Alan watched the phantasm’s breasts bounce as it moved into him. With each thrust, he was driven forward, and his free arm made it so his shoulder jammed
violently against the wooden headboard.
Suddenly, she pulled out, and began hastily removing the strap-on. And, in an instant, she was on him, riding him hard.
With clammy breasts bobbing in his face like a buoy, and the scent of sex heavy as it lingered in the humid air, Alan felt…ready. He pressed his hips up to penetrate deeper, and felt the need in him rise. He grunted as the hallucination slid up and then slammed down onto his cock, abusing it with reckless abandon. He wanted to believe she wanted it just as bad as he did.
Closing his eyes, he tensed his entire body, jerking. His body went into paroxysms as he came. It felt as if the orgasm would never end.
Panting, he relished the feeling. There was something primal in the animal hunger Xenobia had evoked that proved deeply satisfying. Whatever it was, Alan intuited that he would come to crave it. It became in an instant his newest secret addiction. Like most things in his slowly unraveling world, the danger drew him in. But, this was one area of his life where he would do almost anything to ensure things remained behind closed doors.
He opened his eyes, and almost shrunk back. He grimaced. Beside him, only Xenobia remained. And she seemed to be smiling. It was difficult to tell, with her thin lips.
Basking in the glow of his post-coital bliss, Alan wanted…to remain enshrouded in the illusion. He wanted the escape that her mental games provided.
He closed his eyes again. He realized she had him. He began to more clearly understand the brilliance behind her plans. He craved that mind-numbing, uninhibited carnal pleasure like a pigeon longs for stale bread and a park bench to shit on. Not only that, but he would never want anyone to know just how far he had been willing to go in pursuit of the most base and heinously hedonistic of pleasures. She owned him now, and the most he could do was play feeble games.
All he had left were the illusions. And, even then, they were those provided by a clever being who could peel back the veneer and peer into the innermost recesses of his psyche.
[You are so quiet. Did you not enjoy yourself?]
Alan sighed. He kept his eyes shut.
“What is your mission? Why are you here? What is it you want from me?” he asked. He simply wanted to know. He resigned himself to a complete surrender to her. It. There was no conceivable way to defeat or outwit her. Alan just wanted to know why.
Xenobia seemed to think about this.
Alan opened his eyes, and felt a breeze tickle the curtains before it rushed in to pinch his cheek. Avuncular autumn, busy as a kleptomaniac at the mall. It remained one of his favorite seasons. A part of him suddenly longed to return to the northeast, to go back to Montpelier. The fall time in Vermont could be stunningly beautiful. He watched as the shadow of a tree played the shadow puppet game on the wall. He kind of liked the silence.
[The truth is, my people, we try to study human depravity. I think the things you might read might say we study deviation, but that is only partly true. That is a mischaracterize. Much good you kind no know what]
Alan perked up. He glanced over at Xenobia. She’d been doing that, slurring her words, lately. He suddenly found himself reaching out to her, feeling her forehead. A strange sense of surreal compassion filled him in that moment, and he wanted to protect her.
But, he also saw hope in this fleeting weakness. Alan wasn’t quite sure if it were gambit, but he took notice. If it were a sign of deterioration or vulnerability, it could be a chink in the armor. A way for him to overcome this formidable foreign foe. It almost hurt to hope.
[I…am hungry. I..I’m sorry. What do you want to you, my love?]
My love? Hold up one fucking minute. My love?! Alan’s thoughts once again began to race like ferrets in a new cage. He took several moments to breathe and enjoy the lingering scent bestowed by the late autumnal breeze.
“Why? Why me? Why humans? Human…depravity? That’s all you’re doing? Studying me? How are you monitoring your results?” Questions trampled each other in their frenzy to escape the stadium of his congested brain.
[Humans are curious creatures. Very different. We are Afim Spiantsy. We are both cunning and proud. We have overcome most of our other enemies, either by war or trade. We want to…gauge, we…want…to gauge…if humans can…be part of the federation.]
Alan digested this. Even after all his years as a NASA Office of Inspector General Special Agent, he had yet to hear of anything like this. He couldn’t recall ever hearing about the Afim at all.
“Why is human depravity of interest? Wouldn’t you want to know what we could offer you? Like, instead of sodomizing people, wouldn’t it better…I don’t know? Maybe we have some cool farming techniques or something.” Alan said.
[One is only as good as their weakest link. It is amusing, to me, to think that the Afim Spiantsy could need or want anything. We have no needs, because all in the universe is ours to take. We seek knowledge. Would you want to know you could trust your allies? You rely on…Dale? You know him.]
Alan chuckled. He fought back the rising bile and the sense of fear he felt. “I think that’s a bit different.” he said.
Chapter 10
Alan sat at his desk, hunched forward playing Solitaire. The cards made a vague shuffling noise as they were mixed again for a new game. He idly checked his statistics for the game: 143-1. He’d won one stinking game since he’d started. The wonderful effects of bad internet.
A small stack of thin manila file folders sat on the corner of his desk. The edges of most of them were marked with a red swipe from a marker. However, there was one blue slash that kept drawing his attention. He put an Ace onto a new slot, moving the cordless mouse, and then his eyes darted back to that one file.
Frowning, he shook his head and reached for it. Leaning forward, he grasped it by the edges, but faltered a bit on the wobbly chair, and the entire stack fluttered to the bad carpet. “Fuck!” he yelled.
He looked up when his door opened, and then smiled. Dale had heard his boss’ exclamation, and had come rushing to the rescue. Such a loyal man. It hurt Alan, that his partner and friend might soon learn the heinous truth. “Hey, man.” He waved a hand and knelt down to begin gathering papers. Dale hurried to help.
“So, I haven’t heard much from you since dinner.” Dale said.
“Buena Comida…you know,” Alan stopped, the chair screeching in protest. He looked up at the ceiling, one hand on his chin. His eyes appeared far-away. “That really was some of the best food I can remember ever having.” He chuckled. The irony seemed to merit at least a chuckle. “And…here, of all places.” he said.
Alan realized he was getting to be too harsh on the small town. Surrounded by mountains and beautiful terrain, the place was lovely. It exuded the antiquated charm of a black-and-white television show. There really was something nice and rustic about…the lack of pretenses. People believed each other, because they could. People waved at each other and talked about the weather over pie and lemonade because they knew each other. This wasn’t a place where someone like Alan could never once speak to their neighbor after living in the same place for 4 years.
Alan reflected on that, even as he sat and played pretend with his friend. How was he supposed to carry on an illicit love affair with an alien…in such a small town?
“You’ve…boss, let me tell ya, you’ve been actin’ real strange, and…I’d like to know why. If you feel like divulgin’” Dale finally said.
Alan sighed. He again looked up towards the ceiling. Then he rolled back behind his desk, as if the small piece of cheap furniture could create a physical barrier between him and the world. He faced the courthouse with his hands locked behind his back. His body was rigid. He tried to think, but couldn’t quite focus. His body felt…as if it were swaying in an Alaskan crab boat.
“Can I be honest with you?” Alan asked. He really was playing for time, but he also felt it might be good to make this seem difficult. As if he were extracting a splinter or something.
Dale leaned forward, and his earnest eyes shone
with sympathy and compassion. This did nothing to dampen the guilt Alan felt in that moment. “Yes. Of course, buddy.” he said.
Alan wondered if this were part of the sick game being played by his paranormal paramour. Not just the humiliating acts and secrets, not just physically invading his brain with mind-jingling force. No, she was making him lie to his friends. She forced him onto a metaphorical island, and she made herself into the only lifeline.
Alan turned around and draped himself on the edge of the desk. He looked at the floor as he spoke. “Ummm…so, besides this,” Alan waved his hand in an all-encompassing gesture meant to signify the clusterfuck that was their office. “Well, I’ve got this woman situation.” he said.
Dale stood abruptly, clapping his hands. A smile broke out over his face. He rushed forward and embraced his friend, the scent of his barely-concealed body odor mixed with garlic and grease overwhelming. “I thought you were gay, buddy. I really did.” Dale said. Then he took a step back and reigned in his giddiness. He put on a somber face. “Not that…I mean, I’d still love you if you were gay.” he said.
Alan laughed and couldn’t help but think of the previous night’s illicit excursions. He kind of liked studying the depths of human depravity.
“So, tell me all about it.” Dale said,
Alan laughed. Began blushing. “Hey, so, did you ever get a denouement on the whole Space Force thing? I know we’d been talking about that…days ago.” Alan said.
Dale rolled his eyes. “No. But, I should be able to do something today. I did get word back from the resident agency in Medford that we should direct this case to the locals, and form a joint task force so we get some of the credit.” he said.
Alan nodded. That was better than nothing. It also gave him more of a chance to stall. The resident agency was a satellite office under the direction of the Portland, Oregon field office. Getting something from them was good, but it wasn’t great. Of course, sometimes it’s beneficial to pass the buck.