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Subject: {ASSM} Some Annoying Aliens Ch 3 (mc, nc, hyp, mff, fd, md, ft, humil, humor, mast, bds
Date: Sun, 15 Oct 2000 10:10:06 -0400
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Some Annoying Aliens (mc, nc, hyp, mff, fd, md, ft, humil,
humor, mast, bdsm, furry, robots, sf)
Copyright 2000 by Chew Toy (wellgnawed@hotmail.com)
WARNING: The usual disclaimers and warnings apply.
The characters in this story have sex; if that offends
you or for some reason you are Not Allowed to read about
such things, stop now. The events in this story might not
be moral or even possible; the point is to give you a hot
fantasy, not a blueprint for life.
---
CHAPTER THREE
---
"Excuse me, where would I go to be anally penetrated?"
The husky-voiced speaker was around 5'4", with braided
blonde hair reaching halfway to the ground, thick pouty
lips, and melting green eyes. Tight, well-polished white
leather boots outlined a pair of shapely calves, and a
white uniform with gold piping revealed a slim figure with
slight hips and flattish chest.
On the whole, Imperial Galactic Police Agent Zaral Felt
made a fine picture of a woman. Or, to those familiar with
his species, a fine picture of a man.
The contact he was going to meet had specified a location
significant to the mating customs of Earth humans,
apparently reserved for anonymous male-male pairings.
Which suited Zaral, since he hadn't had any good cock in
months.
*And won't get any for months more, if I don't ditch this
communicator,* he thought to himself, as his ship's
computer intruded its synthesized voice into his ear,
interrupting his attempt to query a local resident for
directions.
"Records indicate Earth-native sentient species include
no felinoid forms. The dominant race is bipedal and
furless, resembling the dominant race on your own home
planet except in certain peculiarities of gender
dimorphism, in which--"
"I know all that, Ship. Cut to the chase," Felt muttered
under his breath, knowing the communicator would pick up
his barely-voiced words and relay them to his ship in its
cloaked orbit far overhead.
"Your conversant is a housepet."
"Oh," said Zaral, looking in disappointment at the
small, furry creature he'd just spoken to.
"Miaw!" it said, and leapt down from the short stone
wall it had been standing on.
As it hopped down, Zaral noticed a sign on the door of
the small single-story building behind it. "Men," he
read. *Ah, this must be the place.*
--
"What do you mean, there's no such package?" John Smith,
alias the alien spy Frbnglrr, shouted into the telephone.
"...error, or if you have further questions, please
call back during business hours, or visit our nearest
delivery office to speak with a representative. Thank you
and have a nice day." The recorded voice shut off with a
click.
"Stupid primitive machines," Smith muttered to the dead
phone line, hanging the handset up in disgust. "Not like
the robots back home, I can tell you *that*."
--
Back on Smith's homeworld, Genari the robot was
servicing a vacuum cleaner.
"Oh, your hose... it's soo... big..." she husked,
rubbing the attachment between her breasts.
"800 Service Error. Seek maintenance" replied the
vacuum cleaner, for the third time.
"Oh, all *right* already. Stupid primitive machine,"
said Genari. "No sense of humor at *all*." Her
punishment now over since her batteries had run down,
Genari had resumed the household maintenance duties
for which she was not particularly well programmed once
her recharge cycle completed. But after her earlier
hours of functioning as a surrogate wall outlet, the
sexbot was not feeling very charitable towards
household appliances. She aimed a swift kick at the
cleaning robot where it would do the most good.
"*Beep* Function restored," said the vacuum, and
trundled off to vanquish dust bunnies.
"Finally," Genari sighed.
--
"Here it is, my home away from home," John Park
said, leading his mind-controlled date Sandra into
his bedroom.
"Ooh, is that your *bed*? It's soo... *big*..."
Sandra husked, stretching out on the only piece of
furniture not covered by dirty clothes or empty food
containers or both.
*What am I DOING? I sound like a cheap hooker.
Why do I keep saying these inane things?* Sandra
thought to herself. *He IS hot, though,* she
thought, catching a look at John's crotch and
realizing she was starting to stare. *I wonder if
he'll...* Inwardly, she blushed.
Mentally congratulating himself for commanding her
to act like a cheap hooker, John stashed his coat
and the hidden mind-control gun by an empty pizza
box, and closed the door.
"That's not the only thing that's big, babe," he
said with a leer.
"*Really*? Why don't ya show me what you mean?"
answered Sandra, leaning back against the wall for
a good view while she licked her lips and continued
to stare openly at the slight bulge in John's pants.
*What has come OVER me?* she thought.
*She wants it!* John thought excitedly. *It's
really working!*
"Why don't you show me the goods first, babe,"
said John. "Let's see your tits."
Without hesitation, Sandra reached down to the
edge of the midriff-baring white shirt she'd
borrowed from her roommate Gina, and pulled the
whole thing off over her head. As she sucked in
her belly and jutted her chest forward in her best
Cosmo-cover pose, a bright red blush started at her
navel and quickly moved up to the top of her head.
Sandra carefully held the pose, catching John's eye
with a wicked look and trying to ignore her own
intense embarassment. *I can't BELIVE I'm doing
this!* she thought.
Her only black bra, a lacy thing nicely filled
out by her C-cup breasts, showed starkly against
her pale skin, now tinged pink with embarassment.
John goggled at the cleavage she was eagerly
pushing towards him.
He licked his lips. "Mmm... ah, no, all the
way. I want to see your tits, not just your bra."
Her face turning an even deeper red, Sandra
slid the strap of her bra over her left shoulder,
twisting that side forward to show John; then
reached both hands behind her back, pressing her
chest even further forward as she did, and undid
the clasp. Her perky breasts, nipples stiff as
little pebbles, tumbled out into view as she
pulled the bra off over her head. Tossing the
bra away, she clasped her hands behind her back
and jutted her chest out again. "You like what
you see?" she purred.
"Ohh yeah... you are one hot babe," John said,
staring hungrily.
"Gonna do something about it, big guy?" Sandra
teased. *What am I SAYING? He'll think I want
him to... well, I do, but...* she thought
frantically.
"Ohh yeah..." John said, clambering onto the
bed and sqeezing one breast in each hand.
*Todd Darby groped me exactly that way in
eighth grade, and I clobbered him for it,*
Sandra thought. *Now, it still makes me feel
cheap and used... yet strangely excited...*
"HONK! Heh, heh, heh..." said John.
--
In the outdoor Men's room in Maple Park,
Zaral Felt was trying to combine business with
pleasure. "Ooh, *yes*," he moaned, as the burly
man's erect member gently eased into Felt's ass.
He gripped the pipes at the back of the stall
they were fucking in and breathed deeply. "Tell
me about... the device. Ohh, it's so *big*!"
"The 'device'?" the big bearded man muttered
slowly. "Uh... ok. It's a foot long, as big
around as your fist, and harder than concrete.
I haven't had a sweet, firm ass like yours in
months. *Ohhh*..." He slid his cock all the
way into Felt's butthole, pressing his body up
against Zaral's and pushing the smaller man
against the toilet.
"Ohhh, yesss... oh, give me all of it, yeah...
ooh... is it stolen?" Zaral asked, pressing
himself back against the larger man and raising
his butt as much as he could.
"Ohhh... noo... it's... one hundred... ooh...
percent... yeahh... all... mine..." the big man
grunted, starting to thrust his cock in and out
of Zaral's ass in a slow rhythm, pounding the
smaller man against the back of the stall.
"UNNH! Ohhyess... did... OHHH!... yousay...
OOOH... yours? OHYEAHMORE... Ididn't... OH!...
thinkthisplanet... HAYES!... hadthetechnology..."
"Mmm... yeah... I made it... oooh... myself...
ohyeah... justfor... oh!... littleboys...
oooh... likeyou... oohyeah! Ohh... justfor...
OHH! You! Yeah! OHHH!" Shuddering, the man came,
his massive body pressing Zaral harder into the
toilet, the buckle of his undone belt making a
deep mark on Zaral's inner thigh.
Still wrapped in the larger man's sweaty body,
Zaral was taking a moment to savor the encounter
when he was suddenly seized by panic. *He BUILT
a mind-control device! This man is the criminal
I've been pursuing all along! He contacted me
only to lure me out here! I've got to do
something!*
Trying to draw a weapon would just reveal that
the gig was up, but maybe he could contact his
ship. Stealthily he reached for the communicator
bud, where he'd left it on top of the toilet
paper dispenser, as the big man slowly withdrew
from him and bent to buckle his trousers.
Swiftly, he placed the communicator bud in his
ear. The voice of his ship's computer came
through immediately.
"Your contact, who was delayed, is approaching
the building now. Perhaps you have concluded
your recreational activity with the ignorant
Earth-native human?"
--
On the other side of the galaxy, Princess Thrrmm
was concluding a very enjoyable evening with her latest
conquest, Deke. She'd had to block his memory of
several parts of their date so far, but that was to be
expected with his program of conditioning not yet
complete. It would not do to have him recall spanking
Ssalea at the Princess's command, or servicing Adelia
with his deft fingers in the privacy of an alcove off
the main hall while the Princess looked on with
salacious enjoyment. The Princess liked to keep the
followers and hangers-on of her small social circle in
line but properly enticed-- many of them had undergone
some version of the mental conditioning Deke was in the
midst of, of course-- but remembering the details, at
this stage, would only confuse the poor boy.
Deke just knew they'd had a good date that was likely
to get better.
Genari, the Princess's robotic handmaiden, opened the
door for them and took the Princess's shawl and Deke's
overcoat.
"You may attend us in the blue room, Genari," Princess
Thrrmm told her, and the robot nodded before turning to
put up the coats.
Princess Thrrmm would never have glanced at the vacuum
cleaner trundling down the long hall towards them if it
hadn't been behaving oddly. Such devices were normally
beneath her notice, but it kept banging against the wall
and muttering "800 Service Error," and the prospect of
the Princess having to move out of *her* way for a robot
immediately kindled her irritation. She resolved to
speak sharply to the errant appliance; but when they
drew closer it began to shake, vibrating with increasing
violence until it fell over on its side. A bulge formed
in the metal skin of the cleaning robot, and as Princess
Thrrmm watched on in fascinated horror, that skin began
to tear.
Three gleaming red eyes appeared in the center of the
hole, and the vacuum cleaner's torn hull began to bulge
even further. Silver hooks appeared at the sides of
the tear, widening it, and suddenly a small shape full
of claws and blades and spikes and those three evil red
electronic eyes launched itself out of the carcass of
the cleaning robot directly at Princess Thrrmm's face--
-- and smacked into a piece of statuary Deke had
grabbed from an alcove in the wall and swiftly
interposed. As the thing frantically clawed the lewd
statue, Deke smashed both against the floor, over and
over, until little bits of claw and spike and eye and
broken-off pieces of statue were mingled on the floor
in a disordered pile the cleaning robot wouldn't be
sweeping up any time soon.
"Assassin robot," Deke muttered, doggedly mashing the
vacuum-killer into scrap.
"Well, I never liked that statue much anyway,"
Princess Thrrmm replied.
--
Gina had a part-time job stealing other people's mail.
Or so every other person who came in seemed to think.
Listening to whiny customer complaints at an express
delivery service's local offices wasn't the world's most
satisfying job, but it did keep her in CDs and clothing
while she was in school.
As the line in front of her counter snaked around,
Gina noticed out of the corner of her eye the shifty-eyed,
rat-faced man slipping in the front door just before her
co-worker locked it for the evening and headed back to the
loading docks to punch out. *Right before closing, just
my luck,* she thought to herself, *Probably lost his
shipment of porn.* Something about him seemed vaguely
familiar, but she couldn't place it.
John Smith nervously looked around the package delivery
office, feeling his tail twitch where he'd taped it to
his leg. There was a familiar sort of horror about a
large bureaucracy on any planet, but offices on primitive
worlds always seemed worse to him, achingly slow at even
the simplest of tasks. He wondered how long it would
take to trace his package, the mind-control device that
seemed to be delayed in transit, and speculated about the
Princess's mood if he hadn't located it by the time she
next deigned to contact him. A delicious shiver of shame
ran through him at the thought of how his incompetence
had led to this situation. Perhaps she would... *punish*
him somehow. He licked his lips.
Such thoughts occupied him as the line cleared away in
front of him and the other customers slowly trickled out,
until John Smith and Gina were the last two people left
in the building.
"Yes, can I help you?" Gina said, resignedly glancing
at the clock in the office behind her. *At least I get
time and a half for overtime,* she thought.
"Yes, I have a package which seems to be held up in
reaching me and I called to try to trace it but your
telephone robot was not very helpful and it said I
should try at the office, so--"
"--OhmyGod!" Gina interrupted, suddenly realizing
where she'd seen Smith before. "You're that lech from
the gym! You stole my clothes, you asshole!" Reaching
around for some sort of weapon, Gina's fingers closed on
a three-hole punch, and she lobbed the weighty office
gadget at Frbnglrr's head. He ducked, and winced as it
bounced off his shoulder.
"I don't know what... there must be some mistake..."
Smith stammered, blushing and looking around to see who
had heard Gina's accusation. Somewhat to his relief,
the office was now empty.
"There's no mistake, you disgusting pervert! You
snuck into the women's locker room and stole an armload
of panties! I *saw* you!" Gina continued to hurl office
detritus-- a stapler, a tape dispenser, a framed photo
of her officemate's cat-- at the unresisting Frbnglrr,
who, now bright red in the face, was ducking lower and
lower as he tried to take the blows on his back and
shoulders, or perhaps to disappear into the floor
entirely.
"Please... I'll never do it again..." Smith, nearly
grovelling now, stammered out.
"You're damn right you'll never do it again, you
creep! I'm calling the cops right now!" Gina picked
up the phone by her desk and started to dial.
"Please, no! I'll do anything... anything you want,
just please, don't--"
"Shut up," Gina ordered. Smith emitted a whimper, but
was otherwise silent. Gina paused with her finger on
the last "1" of "911." It *was* pretty satisfying to
see this guy grovel. Maybe she should teach him a
lesson before turning him in. Or maybe *instead* of, if
he seemed to have learned well enough.
She looked around. The shades were drawn, so nobody
outside had seen this little confrontation; and no noise
from the back room meant her co-worker had gone home
before all her shouting and throwing of staplers. So
no-one would know. What the hell?
"If I don't turn you in," she asked the cowering
pervert, "would you fuck a sheep?"
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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