Under Alien Influence

by Emily Tilton

  Search Pierre LeGrand’s mind. Does he wish to ‘cuddle’ the girl?

  Half a picosecond went by.

  Yes. Not as much as he wants to fuck her, but that is because I have released his sexual instincts so thoroughly, and the girl herself is begging him to enjoy her vagina. Should I have him do the cuddling instead?

  You should, replied its colleague, since it will make Hailey Miller feel happy before she goes to school, and fucking her might make her late. We must be careful not to create the appearance of unusual circumstances.

  Very well, sent Pierre LeGrand’s Zedaar. My host will promise to fuck the girl in her anus when she returns home from school. The small amount of influence I have employed upon her has, it seems, made her very eager to be trained as Pierre LeGrand’s sexual plaything.

  The alien in Nick Strauss considered for several human seconds, absorbing the sensation of his host holding the human woman—the mate whom Nick Strauss had informed of her duty to receive his erect penis in her virginal posterior that night. The Zedaar could feel Janice Strauss’ emotions, and felt a certain degree of satisfaction—and amusement—to find a similar state to the one its colleague had reported in Hailey Miller. The need for dominant fucking had taken firm hold of the woman’s imagination, and she too wished to learn how to serve her husband as what it seemed a human would call a fuck toy.

  Yes, the Zedaar sent back, Janice Strauss still feels some embarrassment about it, but she has begun to understand how much she needs the penis. She would like to be fucked again before Nick Strauss departs, but I will have him inform her she must wait, and prepare herself between her waist and her knees for her sexual service later today.

  * * *

  Janice lay in bed, watching Nick get dressed to go to the park, after he had released her from his strong arms—the embrace that had gone on for so long, after he had fucked her from behind for the very first time. She tried to remember what she had felt about her husband the day before, when she had seen that he was standing in the driveway looking at his phone when she had already put dinner on the table. She found she could almost recall that woman, but that when she tried to put her mind into the person who had told Nick he had to do the dishes because she was going to the movies, her heart—the heart inside the body with the well-fucked pussy and the mouth that had tasted her husband’s seed for the first time and above all the little bottom he had spanked so hard to teach her the lesson she needed—drew back in grief at all the wasted time.

  She didn’t feel she had erred in wanting to maintain her independence. She didn’t even think that all the scrapbooking and the things she had done to get out of the house so as not to confront her ambivalence about Nick—no, not about Nick himself but about having married Nick—had been wrong in themselves. They had put things out of balance, though… she had put things out of balance.

  Janice had never imagined that she would want to be an old-fashioned wife… a spanked wife who understood she must do as her husband told her, above all in the bedroom. She still didn’t really think she wanted that, exactly: rather she thought, as she saw with regret that Nick had covered his broad shoulders in the olive-green shirt of his ranger uniform, that she wanted to feel close to her husband the way she had last night, and this morning. She just hadn’t realized—how could she have?—that submitting to him, to his firm hand on her bare bottom and his hard cock inside her mouth and her pussy and soon, she remembered with a little thrill of fear, her bottom, would make her feel close to him.

  Nick stood facing her now, fully dressed and ready to go to work. Janice couldn’t remember the last time she had seen him right before he departed: she had always gotten up first—not to make breakfast or to do anything useful, but to get her own cup of coffee and see what people had said on social media the previous night… and to avoid confrontation with her husband.

  Now he confronted her, and he spoke in a serious tone, and Janice felt her tummy flutter at the shameful things Nick said, the mortifying commands he issued.

  “No panties today, sweetheart,” he said first. “I want you to think about how your cunt and your asshole belong to your husband. I’ll decide whether you’ve been a good enough girl to cover them up with underwear.”

  “Nick, please…” she said, her face flaring with heat. “Please don’t use those words.”

  “I’ll use them when I feel like it,” he said, his eyebrows going up a little as if to suggest that he intended to find out whether Janice would oppose his disciplinary notions—and to take his broad leather belt right back off and whip her if she protested again. “And so will you. I’m going to get you some new things to dress up your cunt and your bottom, too. Instead of doing your scrapbooks today, you’ll shop for lacy bras and panties, and we’ll look at them together tonight.”

  “Not… not the c-word, please… please, Nick?” she pleaded, though as she remembered the way he had made her say it only a little while before when he had crouched over her she felt herself clench down there. That word, though: it sounded so filthy. She knew men like to talk about women that way: the thought of Nick telling a friend about her cunt, about how he had fucked it from behind, suddenly rose in her mind, and she felt faint even as the heat gathered between her legs.

  “I’ll talk about your cunt all I want, Janice,” Nick said, his eyes narrowing at her now. “And you just lost all your clothes for the day. You’ll be naked until I get home, and you’d better have that cunt, and your butt crack, nice and smooth by that time. Do you understand me?”

  “Nick!” Janice’s jaw hung open, and she drew the covers around her more tightly at this awful news. “Wh-what’s got into you?” She realized she could have asked the question a dozen times since the moment he had first told her he would spank her, but his coarseness and his forceful commands seemed only to be increasing in their dominance.

  “A backbone as hard as my cock,” Nick replied. To her dismay he reached out and took the covers in his hand, to rip them back. “I want my wife naked, so you’ll be naked. Get out of bed right now, sweetheart. You’ll need to take a bath before you shave your cunt. You don’t want a whipping, do you?”

  Though she felt again the newly awakened sexual need of the night before over her husband’s knee and the morning there in bed, a little fear crept into her voice as she said, “No, sir.”

  Nick must have heard it because he opened his arms to take his naked wife inside his clothed embrace. It felt so warm, naughty, and just, well, delicious, that Janice suddenly found herself trying to rub her pussy against his leg, and whimpering softly at the sensation of her bare, tender flesh against his woolen trousers.

  Nick chuckled. “None of that, sweetheart,” he said. “You need to learn to wait until I decide the time is right for your pleasure.”

  A mewing sound came from Janice’s throat. “Please?” she begged. She would never have thought, before the night before, that she could feel such a dirty kind of need—a craving for a hard penis inside her of the sort she imagined the girls her mother had always called hussies must feel.

  “No, Janice. You’ll be readier to have your bottom fucked if I don’t please your pussy now. Be careful when you’re preparing yourself, too. No playing with yourself.”

  “Nick!” She had never done that—never in her life. It was absolutely, positively the thing that only hussies did. Her mother hadn’t even needed to say that, when she had told Janice that good girls only touched themselves down there to keep their privates clean and hygienic.

  He kissed her, then, though, and she forgot about everything else besides his strong lips, his probing tongue. Nick had never kissed her like that before, and Janice wasn’t even sure she would have welcomed the submissive feeling it gave her, the way his hand on her chin made her feel little, before her husband had taken it upon himself to spank her and to make it clear that sex would be a very different sort of thing for them, from now on. She melted into that kiss, though, and the feeling of being naked while Nick had his r
anger uniform on sent her tummy fluttering and made her warm again down there all over.

  So, yes, she forgot about the fraught topic of what a good girl did to take care of herself, between her thighs, for a few moments. But then Nick had gone to work, his pickup roaring off down the road toward the park, and Janice stood naked in the bathroom looking at herself in the mirror, her eyes focused on the triangle of blonde curls her husband had told her she must remove. She put her hand down there, just to see what it felt like with the hair still there, because soon—if she obeyed Nick’s command—it would feel so very different, and she cried out at the startling, tingling, warm ache awakened by the merest brush of her fingers through the wiry thatch.

  She couldn’t stop herself: she moved her fingers back and forth. This wasn’t playing with herself, really, was it? You were only playing with yourself if you pushed the fingers against your clit, like that, and you made yourself moan like that, because it just felt too good even though you knew it was so very naughty. Her forehead creased, and her fingers moved up and down. She bent her legs.

  He’ll whip me. He’ll make me lie over the pillows just the way he did when he fucked me from behind, and he’ll whip me with his belt so hard, over and over, until I can’t sit down, all before he puts his hard penis in my bottom and… and…

  Oh, no. Janice couldn’t be… She bounced her knees, rode her hands: one in front now and the other behind, middle fingertip on the tiny ring her husband meant to fuck. She cried out again and again so that her voice rang in helpless pleasure against the white tile she kept so clean, even though she was such a dirty girl… a dirty, dirty girl… a girl who needed the penis… who had a cunt that got fucked and an asshole that would soon get fucked… and…

  Again and again she came: she couldn’t stop herself once it had started until her hand was slick with her naughtiness and she had put her finger all the way in her bottom to see what it felt like. The fragrance of her pussy filled the air, and the mirror even had a little steam on it, when Janice Strauss finally stopped masturbating, once again looking at her herself in the mirror and wondering now where the dirty girl in the clean bathroom had come from.

  Chapter Eleven

  The Zedaar inside the park ranger and the mining executive carried on their own electrostatic conversation as the two humans neared one another’s locations.

  The strength of the females’ response to our influence, sent the alien in Pierre LeGrand’s mind, causes me to speculate on a possible solution to the difficulty of extracting the move-thing. Do you recall the Stregil 7 solution?

  Stregil 7 was a world in the Greater Magellanic Cloud, exploited by the Zedaar five hundred thirty-two Earth centuries previous to their arrival on Earth. Two picoseconds passed as Nick Strauss’ alien brought the circumstances of that invasion to mind.

  Do you believe we could influence the males in an analogous fashion? it asked after a moment’s reflection. It would certainly be amusing.

  More amusing even than Stregil 7, I believe, replied the first. The reproductive psychology involved with this invasion evokes such powerful pleasure responses in the humans that I think visiting Zedaari colleagues would praise this planet very greatly if we should succeed—perhaps even rate it as a superior node.

  Pierre LeGrand’s Zedaar felt its colleague buzz slightly with the Zedaari equivalent of pleasure at this prediction. The height of amusement for a Zedaar lay in having other Zedaar communicate about the superior experience to be had on a world it had invaded and established as a node in the aliens’ ever-expanding network of waystations.

  Stregil 7 itself, despite the interest taken by not a few Zedaar in the ingenuity of the solution adopted in the building of its move-thing projector-receptor, remained a dreary world. No discerning Zedaar would ever rate it superior, or even above average. With the addition of human sexual behavior, however, and the amusement to be had inside men like Nick Strauss and Pierre LeGrand, Earth might well soar to the upper reaches of the quality database Zedaar travelers consulted when deciding where to project themselves next.

  On Stregil 7, the move-thing deposit had lain at the bottom of a vast methane ocean, into which the only sentient race on the planet—that is, the only species capable of providing hosts for the Zedaar, who required self-conscious neural networks for their habitation—had never ventured. Indeed, the Stregilians had a perfectly justified atavistic fear of the liquid methane, which would kill them even more quickly than water would kill an unaided human.

  The Stregil 7 solution had involved encouraging the Stregilians to begin a program of ocean exploration, a sort of tactic commonplace during Zedaari invasions. The interesting twist lay in the method adopted by the two Zedaar of the initial invasion force, who had not wanted to wait for the arrival of reinforcements before beginning the extraction and construction, any more than Pierre LeGrand’s and Nick Strauss’ aliens wished to delay their own progress by calling for aid.

  The Stregilians had a quirk in their argon-based biology that required them to visit a nitrogen pool twice a Stregilian day. The Zedaar’s simple but rather brilliant solution to the problem of the ocean was to build a nitrogen facility on the seashore and then to claim that the nitrogen interactions to be experienced close to the ocean restored Stregilian biology much more effectively than those experienced elsewhere. Influence, and what the humans would call fashion did the rest: soon the Stregilians were building tubes that would let them walk on the ocean floor, and the extraction of the move-thing became a simple matter.

  You are suggesting, sent the Zedaar inside Nick Strauss’ head, that we spread the idea of old-fashioned family discipline through influence? Very interesting.

  Yes, sent the other, I believe we must only awaken the need for penis in the females, and influence the males to enjoy them. Pierre LeGrand and Nick Strauss will then be able to persuade them all that the extraction of the move-thing and the construction of the projector-receptor represent an amusing activity.

  * * *

  Pierre met Nick in the tiny parking lot that constituted the entirety of the Fotherville forest preserve’s concession to visitors. An old trail map, its laminated paper peeling off the wooden kiosk that displayed it to the on-average three wilderness enthusiasts a month who came to hike in the forest’s rather unremarkable groves of old-growth trees, displayed the ellipsoid path of the single loop of trail that Nick Strauss spent most of his time keeping clear of undergrowth and fallen logs.

  “It’s about six miles in,” Nick said, looking at the work boots on Pierre’s feet. “I hope you brought hiking shoes.”

  Pierre smiled. He wouldn’t call himself a mountain climber or anything, but he did like to get out into the country. “Sure did,” he said, with a smile at Nick that Pierre thought probably originated, deep down, in his memory of Hailey begging him to fuck her before she went to school. Pierre had a wonderful, naughty glow located somewhere between his heart and his cock that he had a feeling must show on his face.

  He opened the passenger door of his truck and fetched out the running shoes he used for hiking, then carried them to the lone wooden rail that marked the end of the parking lot and the beginning of the preserve. He sat down and started to untie his boots.

  “How’s Janice?” he asked, by way of conversation and, if he had to confess it, in hope that Nick would ask him about his own love life. Somewhere in his mind a voice told Pierre that just the day before he probably would have been very reticent about sharing the news of his hot sex with an eighteen-year-old after spanking her for playing with herself. The experience of taking a young woman in hand, however, appeared to have the power to remove that sort of compunction: he had every intention of telling Nick all about Hailey Miller’s training as a teenaged fuck toy.

  Pierre looked up at Nick as he got the first work boot off, and started to replace it with a running shoe. He didn’t know why, exactly, but he thought he could detect in the park ranger’s face feelings somehow similar to his own: Nick’s blue ey
es seemed serene, and his slightly upturned mouth good-humored in a way Pierre couldn’t ever remember having seen on the man before. Something with Janice, maybe? They had always truck Pierre as a well-suited couple who nevertheless had trouble communicating with one another.

  “Well,” Nick said, “I took Janice in hand last night, so things are different between us now, thank goodness.”

  Pierre felt his eyebrows go up. “You mean you disciplined her?” His cock stirred in his jeans. He supposed it should seem strange that both men had introduced pretty women to old-fashioned gender relations the previous night, but in his current state of mind he found it didn’t strike him as unusual.

  Nick nodded. “I had to take her over my knee and give her a spanking for disrespecting me. She won’t do that again soon, I guess—and if she does she’ll go right back over my knee. I mean to use the belt if I have to, and I’m thinking she’ll have a paddle, too. I may just spank her bare backside once a week with the paddle, over a stool in the kitchen, to make sure she stays obedient.”

  The park ranger delivered all this news in a matter-of-fact tone that Pierre found entirely consistent with his own ideas on the matter, new as they might be.

  “Funny you should mention it,” said the mining executive. “I spanked a young lady myself last night, after I caught her masturbating.”

  It was Nick’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “Really?” he said. “That’s quite a coincidence. Who was she, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “Don’t mind at all,” Pierre replied. “Young Hailey Miller, my neighbor. Her folks are out of town, and asked me to look in on her. Found her with her panties down and her hand between her legs in front of the television right there in the family room.”

  Nick chuckled. “You knew what to do, I can tell. I bet young Hailey isn’t sitting comfortably today in the classroom. You can’t let a girl get away with that. Janice’s going to get the belt, from now on, if I catch her touching her cunt without permission.”