"Gotta run," he says, whispering against your lips. "I'm holding up the escape team. I'll see you again. Try not to get killed in the mean time."\n\n\n\nYou're really close to begging to come with him, but instead you just grunt "Sure" and let him go.\n\nSo that's how you met your [[alien boyfriend]].
A month and a half later, you land on the [[alien planet]], full of destroyed buildings and a lot of dust.
That really shouldn't be turning you on. You want to kiss him. Maybe he wants to kiss you? He's probably a little worried about the guy who just babbled at him and then had a miniature panic attack. Do aliens have empathy? That seems like the kind of thing that, as ruthless killing machines, they'd have done away with.\n\n"Thanks for not shooting me," you <<if $say != true>>[[say]].<<else>>''say''. Gruff and short, like you're cocky and assertive. You still kind of hate yourself.<<endif>> "I mean... thanks," you repeat in something closer to your usual tone. His face is still really close to yours. His lips move as he speaks.\n\nThen they get muffled because you kiss him. He makes a startled noise but doesn't pull away. His arms settle at your hips, talons lightly touching your sides. You moan, muffled by his lips, and arch up. It's not a smooth motion in any sense of the word; you jostle, he starts a little, and you end up with a cut lip. Ow. You're really glad now you didn't try any tongue.\n\n"Sorry," he says. The //r// noise is flatter; you kind of get the idea they can't make alveolar approximants? To be fair, you personally are terrible at alveolar trills, so you're not gonna judge.\n\n"It's okay," you say. "Also, is there any truth to the ruthless alien gangbangs, because I'm all on board with that."\n\nYou pause for a second, and then you both speak at the same time.\n\n# You say: "Sorry, that's really creepy; even if you were a human that would be rude of me and for all I know you don't believe in sex outside of het alien marriage."\n# He says: "Sure."\n\nThen when you gawp he continues.\n\n"It's okay." Did you just teach him 'okay'? You'd think that would be a pretty fundamental part of the English vocabulary. The alien pauses for a long moment, mouth moving like he's trying to think of the words to say. Or, he's gotten a taste of your blood and is preparing to lunge for your throat. You don't know! "I also didn't want to fight," he says. "But I wanted to stop your -- the human -- incursion, so I just, but I am a specialist, mostly." He exhales, the breathing ruff on the sides of his neck fluttering. "I also... you are fleshy, and soft," he says, and the movement of his hand across your stomach is unmistakably intentional. Never before have you been glad about how your body armor //leaves your midriff bare//. "I like it."\n\nYou can feel your cheeks heat. He keeps touching your stomach, pushing the black fabric up to reveal your bare skin. He makes a inquisitive sound at your body hair, in a dark fan up your stomach. You groan, reaching out for his waist, touching the soft pebbled skin along his hips.\n\n"Come," he says and tugs you up and across the engineering bay, to the observation deck above.\n\nThen he whips out his [[ovipositor]].
So, you just fucked an alien and now you're full of eggs! Honestly you feel pretty great about it. In other news, you're fairly sure engineering is burning down.\n\n"That was good," you mumble against the alien's neck, after he pulls back from the kiss. You're still a little out of it; you were sucking his cock for a //while//. When you try to get your legs under you, you stumble and the over-full roil in your stomach almost makes you vomit.\n\nThe alien catches you. "Are you okay?"\n\n"Yeah, just, too many eggs."\n\nHe taps his talons against the deck for a second, looking away. "I'm sorry, usually, we don't deposit a full clutch, just... you were very... arousing."\n\nYou can feel yourself blush. "Thanks," you said, not really sure where to take this conversation. "Uh, so, I don't really know what's happening with the rest of the ship, but you're not going to like blow it up or anything, right?"\n\nThe alien blinks again, this time with only two eyes. Maybe that's some social signal you're totally missing. Then he gestures at the pack on his back, where... he's pulled out a bomb. Okay. Super. "Um," you say.\n\n"I probably won't need to," he says. "Radio chatter states we have successfully copied your database and your security was and remains in disarray." His gaze slides to you. "I could afford a little diversion." And then he slides his fingers along your limp cock, through the mess of slime and come coating it. It starts to lengthen. "I'll need to steal a shuttle or escape pod," he says, pumping your cock slowly, keeping his talons carefully away from your shaft. "Would you help?"\n\nYou let out an inarticulate growl as he keeps stroking you off, a painfully quick learner as he starts sliding a thumb along the ridge of your glans, just barely below too much pressure. He keeps stroking, his other hand flat and still across your hip, and you hunch against him, thrusting the length of your cock through his fist.\n\nThen he starts sucking you off. Which: teeth, fuck, so you go //very still//, but even though he's an alien monster he still has lips, so, on the whole you find the knowledge that there is a gigantic alien dude sucking you off with his //two tongues// hotter than the worry that he's accidentally gonna bite your dick off. Also: you rapidly realize he has a forked tongue. You kind of regret not going for tongue when you were kissing him.\n\nYou come, again, and he swallows, and then he slides up your body and kisses you. "The away team is waiting," he says, whispering against your lips. "I should [[go]]."
It's velvet, like deer antlers. It grows in loose strips and bunches, always a few shades darker than their hide color, and they have some process to start or stop horn formation. Cutting it branches the horn. Their hairstyles are a mess of bare horns and loose velvet. The military cut, //specifically//, tends toward this asymmetrical shag with some glyph -- rank insignia, maybe -- cut into one side.\n----\n<<set $hair = true>><<display "conflicted">>
You're a burly, masculine space marine and your ship is being invaded by [[threatening]] aliens!
You stumble into a gutted building. It's all concrete and sand. You hear movement behind you. You turn just in time to catch a claw to the shoulder, the momentum slamming you flat against a wall. The alien bashes the gun from your hand, and you follow the motion with your head, tracing the lean line of his forearm and bicep up to the delicate muscle of his neck.\n\nOh hey, you know [[that alien]].
He helps you lurch to your feet. You feel like you ought to be sloshing. You manage to hook together your armor and pull it into somewhere approaching decent.\n\nYou help him to the shuttle bay, where 'help' means 'follow slowly behind'. The corridors are deserted, save a few ominous scorch marks and blood stains. It would be really awkward if you ran into a crewman right now, stumbling through the corridors with an alien beside you. You don't, thankfully.\n\nYou make it to the [[shuttle bay]] unmolested.
He's got //piercings//. And not just little rings, like, there are rectangular bangles hanging from his ears (the aliens: have ears, they kind of fan out, like leaves or like hands) along with some chains hooking between the fronds of his ears. He's got a //septum piercing//. And, you realize as he turns towards you, the darker lines across his face aren't just natural coloration; he's got tattoos. //Facial// tattoos. His hair has an undercut on one side, asymmetrical spiky patterns trimmed into his scalp on the other. He's let a few of his horns actually grow out into spiky deer-looking antlers, but the rest are heavy flat leather-looking straps, jangling as he forces himself through the door.\n\nIt's sad that your respective cultural identifications preclude you from knowing the actual significance of all that, but if that was a human guy you would honestly just offer to suck his cock. It would be creepy but you would be okay with that.\n\nIt's also a little unfortunate that you're limited to appraising his body mods instead of his //body//. Like, yeah, bare chest, rippling muscles. His underbelly is a delicate pink-yellow, turning into a bright red-orange across most of the rest of his body. There are these mottled sections along the line of transition, the color changing at a filigreed edge. Okay, this makes you feel a little gross, but look, he's hot. At least you didn't think "delicious cherry and custard skin"; you don't think you could live with yourself if that's where your head went.\n\nYou're aware that he's through and walking toward you, but you're honestly just enjoying staring at his abs up until the point they stop moving because he's right in front of you.\n\n"Uh," you say. "[[Hi?]]"
You're not sure you're comfortable with that language, especially since you don't even know his name. But you still thought it.\n----\n<<set $your = true>><<display "shuttle bay">>
They're threatening because they're even bigger and more macho than you. They're humanoid, tall to the point of being giants and absolutely covered in muscle, with some little extra detail -- like horns or claws or thick hide or something like that -- that screams 'threatening' and marks them as <<if $other != true>>[[the Other|theOther]]<<else>>''the Other''<<endif>> in a way that only makes sense if you cross-compare them with humans. They don't wear body armor, because who needs that kind of thing in //outer space//, so their rippling, chiseled pectorals and abdomens are on full display as they rampage through your ship, causing vaguely-described [[chaos]].
Yeah, it's total chaos down in the... lower engine bay, yeah, that's where you are. All the identical corridors and meaningless set pieces kind of distract you. There's a map right over there.\n\nThere are lots of ground-shaking explosions and fires and smoke, with occasional shots of the burly aliens forcing open doors and roaring while getting shot by a dozen scifi laser guns. Why do you even have the laser guns when it takes like fifty shots to take one down. You'd think we would've invested in better technology.\n\nAnyway, the point is, you're down in the engine bay looking at camera feeds of the nondescript alien rampage. That's cool, you can do that instead of helping. Where "helping" in this case means "shooting guns while screaming". You're feeling a little [[conflicted]].
"Crowns", like a baby. Or in this case, like an egg. A //really big// egg. Made out of... jelly?\n\n"Is that an //egg?!//" you yell. "Fuck, I just realized I have no clue how you reproduce. This isn't going to go to a facehugger place, is it?" The alien is either caught up in his orgasm (you don't really think having eggs down your urethra would feel good, but, alien biologies and all that) or unaware of the __Alien__ reference. "Is that gonna, like, grow inside me and then burst out of my stomach?" Or is that like asking if you can get pregnant from sucking someone off. It is, isn't it.\n\n"No," the alien says, which is a relief, but then, "they incubate. For us. Don't know what'll happen for you. Just, //fuck//" -- and that's pronounced like a loan word he doesn't really know how to use -- "put your mouth on my ovipositor."\n\nThe egg is still just barely peeking out from the swollen center of his cock. It's yellow, a darker shade of the ooze he's been leaking out, and it really looks like a gigantic jellybean. Only squishier. It's stretched out, distorted -- you assume they're spheres or egg shaped or something -- by the pressure of being forced through his cock, and the muscles all across his stomach are tense and trembling, like he's been fighting to keep it in. Maybe he didn't want to spray his eggs all over you before you knew that he came eggs.\n\n"So," you say, kneeling closer until your lips are almost touching the slimy mess of his cockhead. "Like this?" You press your mouth against his swollen flesh, tongue licking across the seam around the egg itself. He groans, cock spasming again and again, and this time you can feel exactly how the egg shifts. Some internal muscle in his cock pumps and the egg jolts forward. You seal your lips around it and //suck//, the alien practically howling above you as the egg oozes from his cock and settles into your mouth. It is a //big-ass egg//, and you try to swallow it for a second or two before it really catches in your throat. Then there's a moment where it's suck in your throat and you can't //breathe//, but that too passes and now you have a weird alien egg in your stomach.\n\nThen the next egg comes.\n\nIn a way this is a lot more like sucking him off, the center of his cock prolapsed into a tube of flesh, fat eggs bursting out one after the other. Enough of the slime gets lodged in your throat that swallowing them -- they're seriously fist-sized, you have no idea how you managed the first one -- becomes easy. He just keeps coming, thick, viscous slime in a plug between each egg, over and over until you feel faintly sick. You hope they're not //toxic//.\n\nFinally he runs out: an egg just slides from his well-worn cock, and you swallow it, followed by gush after gush of heavy slime, thick and clouded, the yellow veined thick with opaque white. You keep slurping for a while, lips and mouth pushing inside the opening of his cock, until slowly he starts to get soft, his ovipositor retracting back into his body.\n\nRather than pull you up, he settles down beside you, squatting. His hands slide down your body, tracing over the slightly-distended muscles of your stomach, and then with a remarkable efficiency he pulls your awful fucking metal codpiece off. Your long-johns and underwear and soaked through with a mixture of his slime and your precome, and the shock of cooler, dryer air when he peels them back is almost enough to make you come right there. You've been //dripping//. But his touch -- the second he actually touches your dick you feel your orgasm peak, not something you can stop, and you mumble out something, thrusting into his hand as you come all over his stomach, dizzy with pleasure as each pulse shoots a thick rope of jizz across his ridiculous alien abs.\n\n"Oh [[fuck]]," you murmur, and then he leans down and kisses you. Carefully, though.
{{{look, sometimes you just want to write some burly space marine / alien porn}}}\n\n{{{also i kind of realized, as i played through other people's twine games, that //so many// of them were this kind of recapitulation of the pulp scifi aesthetic, only with 1. porn and 2. horror, but in a vague artsy kind of way. //this// makes vague and mostly pointless allusions to, like, ~meta-criticism of the genre~ but then i was just like, man, i really just want to write some alien oviposition porn, let's just write that and not care about ragging on the gears of war canon.}}}\n\n{{{tho conversely i did want to write some burly space marine / alien porn where everyone involved wasn't emotionless fuck machines, so, there's that. like holy shit, i got so tired of macho porn that was like "let's throw two hot guys in a scene so they can say 'o yea thats hot' to each other a lot and then have some brutal mechanical fucking action" because that gets real tedious real quick, and of course machismo-fests //like// gears of war are perfect for that because the characters and setting are already designed around the execution of properly performing masculinity (through violence and sex-sublimated-as-violence)}}}\n\n{{{also i realize it's a super dumb joke but i got a kick out of writing sex scenes where not only does everyone have absurdly huge porn fiction dicks, but also this is normal to the point where everyone is like 'yeah eight inches that's pretty small', i.e., standards have just shifted upwards, because of course the porn dick dynamic isn't about absolute size it's about being bigger (and thus ~more sexual~) than everyone else. see also: the entire gears of war dynamic where everyone is in fact seven feet tall and three hundred pounds.}}}\n\n{{{THEMING. (kind of)}}}\n\n{{{what am i even talking about still}}}\n\n{{{that's it; that's the post-mortem}}}\n<html><code> -- <a href="http://eccentric-nucleus.tumblr.com">xax</a></code></html>
Even the guys who're gay are still jerks. Mason, your last boyfriend, the musician, had another bf -- you had an open relationship -- and he was this real sensitive artist type, kind of lean and skittish; he always looked like he was about 16. On reflection you got jealous and then got really snide and angry -- you still have some anger issues; you don't think the military life is helping -- but the root cause was you just wanted someone who would hug you. Your boyfriend and the other guy -- Aiden -- touched a lot, slept together all the time. You can barely fall asleep with another person in bed with you, and even though it's probably a little absurd you felt like Mason went after Aiden just because you couldn't be that person for him, not just the guy he has a lot of real athletic sex with, but the guy that hangs around just touching afterwards and curls around him as you both doze off. You got skittish and awkward and the relationship just imploded and left you feeling awful.\n\nAnd now every little aspect of military life is a slideshow of why no one can stand to be with you. You say you hate the swaggering macho grunts you serve with, but really, you hate yourself for fitting in with them perfectly. Only three more years, you keep telling yourself.\n\nThough given that the ship is under attack and on fire, you might have to revise that estimate.\n\n<<set $cock = true>>[[← back|conflicted]]
Space Marines!!!
He's the captain from the away mission.
Here's the run-down, as things turned out: most systems were fried, except, thankfully, atmos. Some of the military crew got killed, a lot more got injured, but it was mostly limited to the ones that leapt out into direct line-of-sight, while presumably screaming. You really loathe the military, and you really liked that blowjob, so you're inclined to assume the best. One shuttle went missing. Basically all the cameras were knocked out entirely, which was good, because the engineering tape would make some fine alien pornography for people with very specific fetishes.\n\nMostly importantly was since the medbay was so packed with people who were //actually// injured, you slipped through post-encounter screening, so no one really noticed you were pumped full of alien eggs. Which was good, but you're still a little worried they're going to burst out of you at some point.\n\nI guess that's ''THE END''[[.]]\n\n(for now//???//)
God, most of them aren't even //gay//, it's just more swaggering about how they need to get their rocks off and if there's a cocksucker around, well, a mouth is a mouth.Which isn't to say that that kind of talk doesn't //turn you on//, just, you'd prefer it coming from someone you actually liked, in a place that's not a rank-ass bathroom, rather than that douchebag corporal whose only positive quality is his cock. (It's a really nice cock, and you really like sucking cock, because otherwise you'd fucking spurn the dude.)\n\nLike, there's a bathroom that's kept intentionally dirty and dimly-lit, in a little-used corner of the ship. And there's a glory hole. Your first response was to laugh at the absurdity, but that night you fucking jizzed all over yourself thinking about actually getting //fucked//, just the simple mechanical action of someone's dick in your ass, and after that it really didn't take long for you to work up the nerve to sit in the far stall.\n\nIt was dingy and dark and the first guy who came into the second-furthest stall laughed meanly when you tapped your regulation standard boot on the tile, and for an awful moment you thought he'd peek over the wall -- the dividers really aren't as effective where almost everyone on board is seven feet and three hundred pounds -- and see you sitting on the seat, flushed and uncomfortable, virginal in your practical understanding of glory holes, but then he uncovered his side and shoved his cock through. He said something, you don't even remember now, something low and dirty about you being a filthy little cocksucker. You didn't even have a coherent response to it, just this confusing mixture of "that's hot" and "he could be less of a jerk to someone who's about to suck his cock" and "i really wish i could do this with someone who didn't //actually// think i was a worthless cocksucker".\n\nSo you sucked his cock. It was nice, almost a foot long -- another thing that you had to get used to, since, basically everyone is a giant -- and thick, with a dark head. The salt taste in the back of your mouth was familiar, and when he started thrusting, hands grabbing the top of the divider, the entire thing shuddering and banging like a drum, you let him fuck your throat. Mason hadn't been long enough for that, there was just this awkward and kind of painful part where his cockhead would pop back and forth into your throat, but before that you dated this guy, Jayden, with the most absurd cock, and that was how you learned to deep-throat.\n\nIt's a good thing though, because the guy really seemed to like it. When he came you swallowed it, milking his cockhead with your throat, until he cursed and jerked back. Your face was a mess of spit and come, in worked-in globs in your beard, and that was gross but you still came in two strokes, all up the wall, when you fished your cock from your regulation standard workpants.\n\nSo it was a little shitty but it was a lot better than your hand, especially once you started [[getting fucked]]. Your supply of fantasies had worn low after a few months; even the anonymous [[jerks]] in the stalls were better than that.
It means internal skeleton. No chitin plates here. Which isn't to say that you couldn't be convinced chitin is also sexy.\n----\n<<set $endo = true>><<display "theOther">>
The shuttle bay, where there are //several other aliens//. You automatically jerk in surprise, since they are after all ruthless killers.\n# then you relax, since, they're clearly not gonna kill you\n# then you realize they have no reason to think you're not, like, keeping <<if $your != true>>[[your alien]]<<else>>''your alien''<<endif>> hostage\n# then you remember you're actively dripping with his alien precum.\n\nYou really hope they have different social norms so that showing up coated in sexual fluids isn't in incredibly bad taste. That's not the way you think it though; that's more "I wonder if the alien gangbang stories are totally true".\n\nYour alien calls out to the others, fluffing his breathing ruff as he does so. They respond in their own language, which you don't understand at all but seems to involve a lot of atonal grunting and growling noises, interspersed with rough consonants.\n\nThey talk for a while, and you and your alien kind of sidle closer to the shuttle dock. They're taking... supplies? Not food or water; you might actually object to that, but... crates of a style you've never seen before? Maybe the ship has a //dark secret//? Or maybe you're just not that familiar with the cargo manifest.\n\nOne of the other aliens comes over to you. He's taller and lankier than the rest of the aliens, with longer hair that you can only describe as "<<if $dreads != true>>[[dreadlocks]]<<else>>''dreadlocks''<<endif>>". He's got green-yellow hide, fading into an almost-black green on his hands and feet. You assume he's the captain. From the hair more than the skin, but really, who knows.
You really need a boyfriend. Just thinking about it still makes you feel bad. Mason was dressed in those tight club clothes that really showed off his ass and you felt like a big ugly giant next to him. Your face... is not the most attractive face, you have to admit. It has a certain charm to other people, you realize, but you still don't find //yourself// very attractive. You're craggy and rough.\n\nBut you were at the club, and he really liked you, and you were bantering about how you could probably clear the pit just by stepping in it, because even the huge muscley guys in it -- the ones with stiff blond hair and mesh undershirts and some body glitter -- would go tumbling ass over teakettle if you brushed against them. You both laughed, in that self-conscious way when it's not //really// funny, but you know each other well enough and care about the other person enough that not only are you //willing// to laugh at their not-jokes, but that even the not-jokes seem funnier because they're coming from someone you like.\n\nIt felt good at the time but now you just feel sad.\n\nWhile you moodily sit in your form-fitting body armor and watch the feeds -- which by this point are mostly abstract diagrams of smoke, fire, and static -- the engineering bay door is getting pried open. It opens wide enough for the person to shove their shoulder against one side while they brace the entire rest of their body against the other door to shove it open, and it's [[the most punk rock alien you've ever seen]].
It's interwoven soft velvet, so you could call it that instead, if you really wanted to. More important is that he doesn't have whatever the markings are on the side of his head.\n----\n<<set $dreads = true>><<display "shuttle bay">>
It didn't take long before you turned to getting fucked. In the general population, being seven-foot-something, three hundred pounds, and having a foot-and-a-half-long cock sure gave people //expectations//, namely, that you could fuck them into groaning, insensate jelly. Which you could, with a lot of work and planning and effort, since most guys aren't really prepared to take a cock that is, to be perfectly honest, absolutely gigantic. So most of the time you bottomed, just because it was less effort involved for everyone. You like getting fucked; it's a thing.\n\nThat being said, once you're removed from the general population and stuffed in a ship with a bunch of equally gigantic hormonal guys, well, bottoming goes from being a character trait to being something a lot more important. Everyone had such a huge chip on their shoulder, either bragging about their alpha male, true top personality to becoming slavishly fixated on how many guys they 'serviced', which as a euphemism is one you've always hated.\n\nSo the first time you got fucked, well, you were pretty desperate to just //get fucking//; the last time you'd showered, you stayed late so you could properly finger yourself, shoulders against the wall and legs spread, spray hosing down your back, pouring over your fingers as you worked three inside, curling up to bash against your prostate until you came, untouched, shooting all across the wall. It didn't even help; afterward all you could think about was taking something bigger, and, preferably with someone attached to it. You hadn't brought your dildo with you, just because you knew that would turn into more trouble than it was worth, but you sorely missed it sometimes.\n\nThe point is, you really wanted to get fucked, so when the next time you had an off-duty slot and were busy sucking cock in the stalls the guy said "Hey slut, why don't you bend over and let me fuck your pretty little cunt" you were //totally down// for that, though, as usual, language.\n\nYou pulled off his cock -- only eight or nine inches, not quite wrist thick, uncut, dark-skinned with a plum-dark cockhead -- and groaned.\n\nSo you did: he was dripping wet with spit; you were still as lubed as you were gonna get; your shitty armor was unbuckled and unhooked and hanging at your knees and you had been slowly stroking yourself off, rubbing the flat of your palm against your cockhead until it was covered in a sheen of pre.\n\nLegs spread on the bathroom tile, ass pressed up against a hole in the wall so some anonymous guy could fuck you: you'd felt //less// debauched before in your life. The guy seemed to like the view, though. He groaned, fingers playing across your ass, and then there was the muffled thud of him going down on his knees and his //mouth// was on your ass, licking a stripe down the crack and then traveling back up, wet hot heat, humid breath billowing over the cooling spit, and then he dug in, fingers and tongue spreading you open. You made some noises, definitely.\n\nAfter a while he pulled back and slid his cock along the slick channel of your ass, down to the pucker of your asshole. He slid in with a groan, your asshole flexing around the length of his cock as he started thrusting. He wasn't that big, but it still burned, and it didn't take long for him to slam all the way in and then start thrusting, grunting low in the throat as he fucked you.\n\nHe came quick, groaning as he pulled out to pump half his load across your ass, then shoving back in to finish the rest inside. You squeezed your eyes closed and tugged on your cock, coming in wet slaps across the floor, and he laughed at sound, and at the reflexive clenching of your ass. He said something dirty -- honestly he'd been talking a lot, the whole time -- but you don't even remember what, something particularly dirty and crude, and then he pulled out and licked up his load, caught in the hair across your ass.\n\nIt'd been //way// better than just another night [[jerking off|jerks]] in the dorm.
It's an alien planet because it's dusty and ruined, because that's what the aliens do to planets that they take over. Maybe they just have an affinity for desert planets. They live underground, which kind of makes the whole thing confusing, because why even care about planets in the habitable zone if they have self-contained underground atmospheres anyway.\n\nThat's not the point. The point is, you're on an away mission, and you get ambushed, and then you get [[split up]] from the rest of your squad.
"It's gonna be okay," the alien says, in absolutely horribly-accented English. He pats your back. At some point you slumped down on the floor, and now his arms are around you and he's touching you. Your body doesn't really know what the fuck is up, but you personally would like to be wearing a lot less clothes, right now.\n\nHe leans forward and his hair drapes across your bare shoulder. It feels smooth and leathery, warm and smelling vaguely of some scent you can't quite place. You make a noise.\n\n"Sorry," you say. "I was just, kind of freaking out." One of his hands insinuates itself against your stomach. You're not sure if that's an intentional thing but your erection gets more insistent. You look up at him to find his face an inch away, every little fold of his flattened snout-nose on display, his lips slightly parted to reveal [[two rows of shark-like teeth]].
The alien blinks. With all four eyes! They have four eyes, by the way. You think their faces are still attractive, though sometimes you'd prefer them to have facial structure that was a little more humanoid, because you //do// have some specific primate brain clusters hardwired to find faces sufficiently close to human attractive. And faces very slightly less human than that, extremely grotesque!\n\n"I know I'm supposed to be another gruff marine who, like, yells 'you alien bastards I'll never let you take me alive' and then shoots at you a lot, but, I really don't want to die? Also I don't even really want to fight you in the first place, that too. But please don't kill me, I mean, the only way I even got through the target practice in training was by thinking a whole lot about how they were dummies; I really don't think I could actually //shoot// someone, and oh my god, I didn't even //want// to join the space marines but after I broke up with Mason I just wanted to get as far away from Earth as possible, like he got the //entire planet// in the break-up."\n\nIn another situation you might have just yelled and jumped out of cover to get gunned down, but the probable fact of your impending death has made you reflect on a lot of things, namely, how you really don't want to be the kind of person you've been trying to be this past year. You're kind of panicking.\n\n"And now there are //aliens// and I saw that incredible douchebag of a corporal get gunned down, and sure I hated him but I didn't want him to //die//," and you're pretty sure you're hyperventilating now, taking in big gulping breaths like there's just not enough air, "and you guys killed him, so I really shouldn't be acting like you're someone I can unload all my problems on, especially since you probably don't even speak English, but I just really miss Earth and not being surrounded by military assholes all the fuckin' time!" You end with a practical yowl, painfully aware you're crying. The tears get caught in your beard and it feels really gross. You hate that beard. Well, no, you think it's okay, but you only grew it so you'd fit in with the douchey marines who had soul patches or whatever, so you hate //why// you grew it. It's nice not having to shave, but it makes you feel like such a caricature.\n\n"[[It's gonna be okay]]."
Like the aliens are specifically designed to be humanoid enough that you get a hot little thrill from gunning them down, but not humanoid enough that you should feel any qualm from doing so. I mean, they're aliens, right? Also probably some kind of insect hive mind, though the <<if $endo != true>>[[endoskeletons]]<<else>>''endoskeletons''<<endif>> and mammalian muscle structure doesn't really support that. The human intergalactic federation, which probably has some clever three- or four-letter abbreviation, is kind of racist and xenophobic.\n\nMaybe it's a consequence of the universe conveniently being full of hostile alien races that want only to kill you / seduce you to their grotesque inhuman lusts? Given that the aliens can speak English that kind of implies they're capable of comprehending an alien mindset and reverse-engineering their language processes so that they not only can create coherent sentences but also communicate meaning originally generated in their alien brains.\n\nStrange that all they want to do is murder people.\n\n<<set $other = true>>[[← back|threatening]]
"Ohhh fuck," you murmur, already dropping to your knees. The alien looks... surprised? You're gonna say that's surprise.\n\nSince they don't wear body armor, there's not much for him to take //off//; meanwhile your cock is an aching hard line trapped in the fucking metal codpiece of your shitty armor. His clothing is a lot more like //fetish gear//, dark leather straps and sleeves. It's like he's wearing booty shorts and industrial garter belts on his legs. Well, //was// wearing booty shorts, now they're spread across his thighs and his alien cock is drooling at you as it unsheathes itself from his body.\n\nIt's a vivid purple-red. The tip of it is like a cluster of //fishhooks//, a bunch of hook-shaped wedges of flesh all joined together to form a sharp tip that flares out with spikes. The center of it, inside, is wet and open, soft flesh bulging and squishing as neon yellow ooze drips from it. The rest of it: well, it's long. There are rings and bulges and you're sure if you had an alien anatomy book you could isolate it into parts, but that seems kind of weird, like isolating a cock into separate //corpus cavernosums//. It's an alien sex organ. It's got lumps. And segments.\n\nYou're //pretty sure// it's a sex organ.\n\nYou press your mouth to the tip. It's soaking wet, drooling out slimy precum -- you're gonna call it precum, who cares about the biological facts of what preseminal fluid is -- in a constant low burble. It looks //remarkably// like piss, just in terms of color, but thankfully it's the familiar salt-skin taste of pre, thicker and slimier in a way. The alien shudders, a sharp movement, and his entire dick //ripples// in a way you're not used to, and then a gush of fluid splatters across your face. You moan. It is, honestly, pretty hot.\n\nYou try, and fail, to fit the head in your mouth, and then you just slobber on it a lot, sliding your lips up and down the spikes. They're firm, with the slightest amount of give, but they twist back and forth when you put pressure on them. The alien grunts and makes a little gasping noise when you do that, and at first you thought you accidentally dislocated his dick, but no, it's... at least a neutral sound. He seems to be enjoying it. Your front is absolutely dripping with neon slime, seeping through the plates of your armor and soaking into your undershirt. It's dripping down to your dick and you are //painfully// close to coming in your regulation standard shitty armor. You're fumbling with the snaps and fasteners on your suit when the alien moans and arches forward, and you stop grinding against your hand to stare up at him.\n\nHis head is thrown back and his teeth are bared in a snarl, the muscles in his neck cording out in sharper-than-usual definition. His cock sprays you down with precum again, and the entire thing twitches and swells, from the base up.\n\n"Are you gonna come?" Your voice is wrecked, thick and heavy. The alien manages a jerky nod, which, aliens know head signals? Is that a thing they do, what, huh. But then you're distracted back down to his nightmare cock as something [[crowns]] from the opening.
<<if $other == true>>No, not about all that stuff about the Other, it's just y<<else>>Y<<endif>>ou've always thought the aliens were kind of... hot. Like, sexy.\n\nDo you know how stifling it gets in a military cruiser serving your government-mandated four year deployment? Two months in you discovered the seedy bathroom in the lower decks and started <<if $cock != true>>[[sucking cock]]<<else>>''sucking cock''<<endif>> down there just to have some outlet that wasn't increasingly aggravating holos. Holos, those are a thing, right?\n\nBut the point is you're intensely sexually frustrated and then you have these aliens with their near-nudity and fascinating leathery skin patterns (which is more than a little fetishistic, you mean, skin color as exotification, that's a classic, and you're kind of reducing the aliens solely to attributes that you personally find sexy. Which is "almost all of them", and the fact that you're casting such a wide net there almost makes it worse. You want to sit down with one of them and ask if it's //solely// violent, gross alien gangbangs where they implant their eggs into you, or if you can get into their dating scene, too.) and //chiseled, rippling muscles//. They have <<if $hair != true>>[[hair]]<<else>>''hair''<<endif>>, and their military cuts are very alt-punk. It makes you nostalgic for your last boyfriend back on Earth, the one who took you to underground concerts and tried to get you to [[mosh]]. (it's a bad idea; you're like seven feet tall and 300 pounds; you tend to accidentally hurt people if you're not being extremely careful.)