index


Message-ID: <44765asstr$1066173002@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: shakespeer2b@yahoo.com (Shakes Peer2B)
Content-Transfer-Encoding:  8bit
NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 14 Oct 2003 20:57:32 +0000 (UTC)
Subject: {ASSM} (New)Close Encounters of an Unanticipated Kind (Mf, lolita, SciFi, anal, caution)
Date: Tue, 14 Oct 2003 19:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

OK, this is a little 'out there', even for me.  Let me know what you
think, but please use the email address at the top of the story so
your reply doesn't get lost in the junk that comes to the posting
address.
________________________________
This is a story about a sexual FANTASY written for consenting adults.
If you're not both of those, don't read it.  Characters in a FANTASY
don't get sick or die unless I want them to. In real life, people who
don't use condoms and other safe-sex techniques do get sick and die.
You don't live in a FANTASY so be safe.  The fictional characters in
my stories are trained and experienced in acts of FANTASY - don't try
to do what they do - someone could get hurt.

If you think you know somebody who resembles any of the characters
here, congratulations, but you're wrong - any similarity between the
characters in this story and any real person is purely coincidental,
since all of these characters are figments of my dirty little
imagination.

This is my story, not yours. Don't sell it or put it on a pay site.
You can keep it and/or give it away with all of this information
intact, but if you make money off of it, you're breaking the law and
pissing me off.
_________________________________
Close Encounters of an Unanticipated Kind (Mf, lolita, SciFi, anal,
caution)
(C)Copyright 2003 - Shakes Peer2B
shakes_peer2b@NONOsbcglobal.net
(remove 'NONO' from the above address to contact me)

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Shakes_Peer2B/
http://storiesonline.net/  (go to the Author's page under 'S')
________

When the first ships of the race that came to be known as the wraiths
appeared in orbit above earth, we almost went to war with them.  This
was all kept secret until a few months ago, of course.  We have since
learned that such a war would have been disastrous for us and
inconvenient for them, so it's probably a good thing we didn't go all
Rambo on them.

The problem was communication. For more than eight months we tried
every form of communication we could think of while itchy fingers
poised nervously over firing buttons. We received signals at various
frequencies along almost the entire electromagnetic spectrum, but
could find no way to decode them, either as a whole, or separately. 
Every signal WE sent was ignored.

Finally, someone deep in the bowels of the NSA recognized a pattern
that could have been part of a chemical formula, or, more accurately,
a model of a chemical compound.  Soon, the top encryption, language,
and communication specialists were joined by the top chemists.  The
symbols for hydrogen and carbon were quickly recognized, followed
closely by oxygen.  Then someone noticed that atomic weights, numbers
of nuclear particles (protons and neutrons) and numbers of electrons
were given in complex color patterns.  Soon, we had the symbols for
the entire periodic table and were starting to put together formulae
they sent us.

It became apparent that they were trying to get us to manufacture a
complex organic compound or compounds whose nature even our top minds
couldn't decipher. (We have since learned that their communication
equipment automatically manufactures the chemicals whose models are
sent to it. Those models are constructed in the transmitter by
analyzing the chemicals the wraiths insert into their communication
devices - an electronic extension of how wraiths communicate with each
other in person.)

Going back to basics, we started sending them models of basic chemical
compounds found on earth - water, salt, hydrochloric acid, and on and
on.

They finally got the message that we were in chemistry kindergarten
compared to them. Somehow, a crude form of communication via chemical
formulae developed. Don't ask me how it worked - that's not my field.
The best explanation I ever got was that it was sort of a chemical
morse code, very basic and clumsy, but effective enough to get things
started.

That's when the FBI came to visit me.

_____________

"I'll get right to the point, Mr. Wallace." said the agent in charge,
as he proceeded to beat around the bush.

"You write porngography, don't you?" He stared at me across my coffee
table. Normally I would have offered my guests coffee or some other
form of refreshment. Since my home was now filled with Special Agents,
however, I gave them the special treatment and kept my refreshments to
myself.

In answer to his question, I shrugged, "It's not illegal."

The head agent, or whatever he was, waved that off dismissively,
"Specifically, you write stories about sex with aliens from other
planets."

I shrugged again, waiting for an actual question.

"Your stories," head case went on, "have a certain, shall we say,
flair, as if you imagined yourself in actual sex acts with the aliens
you describe."

That wasn't a question either, and I was tired of shrugging, so I just
waited, watching the little bead of sweat make its way down the side
of the guy's face. He reminded me of the agent in 'The Matrix', except
his sunglasses weren't as cool and he had a crew cut.

"If the chance ever arose to actually have sex with a space alien,"
head job went on, "would you take it?"

I looked at him, trying to figure out what kind of trap he was laying.
'What the hell, you only live once,' I thought.

"It would depend on the space alien." I waffled, "I mean, aliens like
those that Sigourney Weaver had a hardon for would be a little tough
to warm up to.  And that Alf character? Fagiddabowdit!"

Without cracking a smile, head banger pulled a picture out of the
inside pocket of his suit coat.  The being depicted was roughly
humanoid in shape, though the ends of its appendages were hard to see,
but didn't look like hands and feet. Its coloring was sort of like
that winged undersea alien from 'The Abyss' - sort of translucent with
color highlights here and there- kind of like a giant squishy opal. I
couldn't identify any humanoid facial features, with the possible
exception of a mouth.

"Does it eat humans?" I suddenly realized they were deadly serious,
and tried to lighten things up, "or just suck our essences out through
the ends of our cocks?"

"These beings," head boy said, with utter seriousness, "have been in
orbit above earth for almost a year.  We finally figured out a
rudimentary way of communicating with them, but it needs to get
better. They insist that the only way for that to happen, is for one
of us to have sex with one or more of them. They swear they don't
bite, and that they will be gentle, since it's our first time."

Was that a joke? Was that a hint of a smile I saw? Could head honcho
actually have a sense of humor?

"Look, Mr. Wallace, we're in desperate straits here and we need your
help." Head ache looked pleadingly across the table at me. "We've run
profiles on all our diplomats, translators, and scientists, and none
of them is psychologically suited to do what needs to be done.  We've
also run psyche profiles on more than a million people in our
database, and you're one of the seven who popped out as possibly being
capable of completing the required acts without going completely
bonkers."

I still wasn't sure what his game was, but I wasn't going to just walk
right into whatever trap he was laying for me.

"So that means you have six other suckers," I asked "why aren't you
browbeating THEM into submission?"

Head line scratched his crewcut, "We have agents interviewing each of
the possible candidates, but time is short and further testing is
needed to determine if any of you are really suitable."

He paused for a minute. "Ah, I think I see what the problem is. Look,
this is no joke, nor is it a ploy to trap you into saying or doing
something incriminating.  I know guys like you and the FBI haven't
exactly seen eye to eye, but this is a matter of National Security,
and I'm authorized to make you a substantial monetary offer, in
writing, for your participation."

There it was.  If he made the offer in writing, then tried to arrest
me for something, we both knew it would be entrapment, and I would be
able to sue the pants off him, the FBI and the whole federal
government.

He took an official looking document from the inside pocket of his
coat, signed it with an unintelligible scribble, that, fortunately,
looked just like the scribble on his badge, and passed it across.

I read it carefully, but thankfully there was very little lawyerese,
and it seemed pretty cut and dried.  If I agreed to undergo certain
surgical modifications and then have sex with certain creatures from
another star system, my bank account would grow to eight figures. 
Naturally, I was interested, since my bank account at present hovered
between two and three figures, depending on where I ate tonight.

Well, I always had a thing for that 'Abyss' creature that saved Ed
Harris' life.  It wasn't like I had a crowded schedule to clear, or
anything, although it occurred to me that if word of this ever got
out, my stories might get a lot more popular. I could already see
myself doing Leno and Letterman to promote my books.

(Closeup of Leno saying, while struggling to keep a straight face:
"So, Mr. Wallace, do aliens give good head?")

I chewed my mustache for a while before I realized I was just
stalling.  I had already decided.

Head light knew it too. He pointed to the blank line over which I
already had the pen poised, and said "Sign here."

The next couple of weeks were a blur. I took so many psychological
tests I figured I could probably hang up a shingle and cure serial
killers and rapists by the time I got done answering all the
questions.  I was poked and prodded and almost fainted from loss of
blood as they took sample after sample.  I gave so many urine samples
I begged the nurses to just catheterize me. They smiled, thinking I
was joking.

At the end of it all, some pucker-butt in a lab coat informed me that
I had passed with flying colors. I was now one of three surviving
candidates.

The next thing I knew, I was being wheeled into surgery.  Before I
could ask what they were going to do to me, a mask descended over my
face, and then I was waking up with a very strange feeling in my
pelvic region.

When the cobwebs cleared enough, I grabbed one of the docs and asked
what they had done to me.

She patted me solicitously on the hand and said, "You just rest, Mr.
Wallace.  Dr. Finkelstein will explain everything when the time is
right!"

No matter who or how often I asked, I got the same answer for almost a
week, then I found myself in a wheelchair, next to another guy in a
wheelchair, both of us facing another anal retentive scientist
(A.R.S.) in a lab coat, inside a sealed, mirrored room.

"Mr. Wallace, Mr. Chen" the A.R.S. nodded at each of us, "I'm Dr.
Finkelstein. I imagine you each have a plethora of questions for me,
but perhaps I can answer most of them with a short presentation."

The lights dimmed and a video lighted the wall behind him. "When the
'wraiths' as we like to call them, appeared over earth almost a year
ago, we thought they had come to invade."

Pictures of space ships flashed on the screen, unlike anything I'd
seen in any science fiction story I'd ever read.  They seemed composed
of randomly intersected white sticks.  As the view zoomed in, though,
the sticks changed to translucent crystals, each set grouped in its
own unique pattern, no two 'ships' alike, as if they had been grown
instead of manufactured.

"Every effort at communication failed. They flooded our airwaves with
signals that drowned out our communication satellites.  Practically
every agency in the Federal Government was convinced that it was a
scenario similar to that in 'Independence Day', until one bright young
fellow..." From the breadth of Finkeltstein's smile, there was no
mistaking who that bright young fellow might have been, "...discovered
that the pattern of signals looked like a molecular model."

A complex hydrocarbon chain started assembling on the screen, joined
by others from off screen until the entire view was filled with
interconnected colored dots.

"We knew what it was, but could neither decipher it, nor reproduce it.
 Instead, we used our new knowledge to propose an alternate
communication system.  The wraiths took to it like ducks to water.  It
was a simplistic system, however, and it could only take us so far. 
Eventually, the wraiths proposed a melding of races, a hybrid, if you
will.  The proposed beings would be capable of understanding human
speech and translating it to the chemical language used by the
wraiths. They would also be able to translate chemical speech into
words."

An anime-like drawing appeared with half-wraith, half-human
appearance.

"To accomplish this, however, it is necessary for one or more humans
to mate with the wraiths. Their bodies are, apparently, complex
chemical factories and they can manipulate and combine human DNA with
their own chemical coding to form the desired offspring, but it can
only be done with the primary building blocks of our races - sperm
from a human, an egg, or what passes for one, from a wraith."

A slightly different appearing wraith was flashed on the screen.

"The wraiths actually come in three different sexes.  The male and
female are similar in appearance in that the male has a seed insertion
organ similar to a penis, and the female has an ovipositor, also
shaped much like a penis. When reproduction is desired among wraiths,
the third sex - call it a 'combiner' for lack of a better word, is
sandwiched between the male and female, each deposits his or her
genetic material in a separate chamber within the body of the
combiner.  Through a process that is still unclear to us, the combiner
breaks down the genetic material of each and reconstructs it as a
zygote having only those characteristics of each donor that are
desired. The combiner contributes no genetic material, per se, but is
capable of repairing gaps in the genetic material of the zygote, or
adding desirable characteristics not found in either donor. Is this
clear, so far?"

We both nodded tentatively.

"Ok, now here's where it gets tricky." A.R.S. Finkelstein smiled at
his little joke, "The combiner has a penis-like organ of its own. 
This comes in handy because the combiner cannot carry the offspring. 
Neither can the female.  It is up to the male, with his higher body
temperature, to carry the growing egg, and at the right time, eject it
so it can hatch. It takes about three weeks for the shell to harden
enough to protect the offspring from the external environment."

"Wait a minute!" I interjected, "If the male has to carry this
fertilized egg, then all this hoopla has been for nothing. WE can't
carry eggs either! Or hasn't that occurred to you eggheads yet?"

Finkelstein cracked a barely tolerant smile. "Actually, it has. And
now you can."

"Can what?!" I'd about had it with this bozo.

"That was the surgery you just underwent.  If you could see under your
balls, you'd notice that we have, so to speak, 'torn you a new
asshole' between your original anus and your penis.  When you mate
with the wraiths you and the female will essentially fuck the
combiner, who will, in turn, fuck you, depositing the fertilized egg
inside your body."

"WAIT, wait, wait!" I shouted "I didn't sign up for nobody to be
fucking me in the ass! I thought I was just going to contribute a
little sperm and bingo! Hybrid aliens!"

The prick smiled again, "Technically, Mr. wallace, they won't be
fucking your ass. What we've implanted in you is more akin to a
chicken's cloaca - the chamber from which she lays her eggs.  Come on
Mr. Wallace, I've read your file. I know you're bisexual, so this
shouldn't be too much of a stretch for you!"

"Well, actually," he said pensively, "maybe it will!  By the time the
egg is matured enough to face the world, I understand it's about the
size of a football.  That actually MIGHT be a bit of a stretch for
you.  Not to worry, though, we used the muscles from your anus to
clamp both holes shut, so they'll stretch quite a bit."

"We going to laying EGGS!?" Chen proved he was alive by yelling,
"Nobody tell me I turn into CHICKEN! I try to doing good thing! Try to
make money, send kids to college! How I face wife?! How I tell her I
CHICKEN now!? Kids not grow up with CHICKEN for father!"

Finkelstein lost some of his arrogance in the face of the tirade, but
proved his competence by doing exactly the wrong thing. He yelled
back.

"You're not a CHICKEN, Mr. Chen!" Finkelstein's face was almost as red
as his tie, "We've just made it possible for you to do what we're
paying you for!"

"You not pay me now!" Chen jumped out of the wheelchair "I not be
CHICKEN for you! I finding way send kids to college! I not laying
EGGS!"

Apparently the psyche profiles weren't perfect.  The door burst open
and a couple of burly guys in lab coats grabbed Chen and drove a
hypodermic into his arm. The poor Chinese fellow went limp and was
dragged out.

Sweet! Now I was the only one left to pull their irons out of the
fire.

"I want a book deal and a screenplay." I said calmly, "Exclusive
rights to the story starting with when you recruited me, in addition
to the cash."

Finkelstein looked puzzled, but somebody behind one of the mirrors
knew what I was talking about, "This is top secret, Mr. Wallace.
Nobody's going to publish anything about it!"

"Who do you think you're kidding?" I looked around at the mirrors,
"Even if none of these monkeys leaks it to the press, you're going to
have to de-classify it eventually, and when you do, I want exclusive
rights!"

There was a long silence, then the disembodied voice came back, "Only
to your part of it, Wallace. You can tell about your testing and
surgery and any interaction you have with the wraiths, but we get to
edit, and we get the final say over publication."

"I'll need background," Not having anywhere else to focus, I looked at
the ceiling, "I can't just tell my story in a vacuum."

"Same conditions," voice came back "we get edit and approval rights,
and you do your own research, we're not handing you anything."

"Geez!" I blew out a breath, "Whatever happened to free speech!?  All
right, but I want it in writing, today!"

"You'll have a contract in hand by the end of the day, Mr. Wallace.
Now can Dr. Finkelstein finish his presentation?"

I looked back at the A.R.S. and cocked an eyebrow. 

"Right!" Finkelstein jumped nervously, "Where was I? Oh yes, your new
cloaca!  Well, as I was saying, the mechanics of the coupling are
relatively simple..."

Actually, the mechanics of the coupling were pretty complex.  I was
isolated in a zero gravity chamber in a space station cobbled together
as kind of a wraith embassy. The wraiths had been in space for so long
that gravity wells were not their favorite places to be.  They had no
bones, per se, and were, comparatively speaking, quite fragile.  By
bringing me into null gravity with them our scientists hoped to
minimize physical damage I might do to my wraith partners.

I floated in the chamber, naked, occasionally pushing off from the
walls as the circulating air moved my body around. Eventually, a
wraith appeared through the membrane that served them as an airlock,
followed closely by another.

Wraiths have no eyes, so I didn't bother to wave. They can detect
sound, but don't use it for communication, so I didn't bother trying
to speak either.

The female, identifiable by her prick and the fact that she had no
holes in which to insert things, recoiled as she entered, apparently
taken aback by my smell.  A strange sort of scent filled the chamber,
apparently emanating from the combiner, and she calmed down somewhat.
They floated in my direction, and the combiner stretched out an
appendage that I thought of as an arm, because of it's location on the
wraith's body.  It touched, feather-light, my upper arm.  For a
moment, we just hung there, motionless.

I had been briefed that the combiner would sample my body chemistry
before coupling, so I just waited.  Suddenly, a warmth suffused my
body, and I became euphoric. This was better than any marijuana high,
man. I was flyin'.  My prick got harder than it's been in years, and
through the wonderful feelings I was experiencing, I noticed the
female's dick getting hard too.

The combiner floated closer, and I found myself unable to move as it
settled its 'vagina' over my raging boner.

Of their own accord, my legs spread out, and as the female slipped her
prick up the combiner's 'ass', I was aware of something sort of
feeling around under my balls.  At first, I was afraid it would pick
the wrong opening and I'd wind up shitting my first eggs, but it's
senses were sharp enough to know better, and the prehensile member of
the combiner shoved its way into my new sex organ. Actually, the
sensation felt more like a pseudopod extruding its way into me. There
was a definite intrusion, but no sensation of sliding, as there would
be if something were pushed into me.

I had been briefed on the basics of what would happen, but since
nobody else had fucked a wraith before, the briefing was incomplete,
to say the least.

The combiner wrapped me up with all four limbs and I felt a strange
sensation at my chest.  I looked down to see two little tube-looking
things attach themselves to my nipples, followed by a sharp
needle-prick at the center of each nipple.  Simultaneously, something
slithered into the opening of my urethra, buried deep inside the body
of the combiner.

Whatever had pricked my nipples kept going into the network of nerves
and glands, exuding something that made my nipples both more sensitive
and less susceptible to the pain of its entry, until I felt as though
a thousand little fairies were nipping and sucking at my chest. The
description doesn't do the sensation justice, but it was incredible
and incredibly erotic.

Meanwhile, the catheter thing continued pushing its way into my
bladder and apparently branching out to penetrate the openings to all
my sex glands.  Another unfamiliar, but highly erotic stimulation!

Within a few minutes, the combiner and I were inextricably locked
together by the most intimate of connections.

I still could not move, but the wraith started pumping chemicals into
my body and into the air around us that had me swimming through a pool
of lust, the like of which I'd never experienced with woman or man. 
The female, too, was thrashing wildly on the combiner's 'back' (Well,
wildly for a wraith. To me it looked like some sort of mild
vibration!)

I didn't realize until they showed me videos later that the combiner
apparently had two fronts and had attached its other front to the
female wraith in much the same manner as it had me.

I didn't much care, at the time, however. As our alien threesome
continued tumbling slowly about the null-gee chamber, I felt a
rhythmic pulsing around my organ.  A similar pulsing was going on
inside my urinary tract and nipples.  The organ within my - I'm sorry,
'cloaca' is just not a word to be used for a human, so I'm calling it
my vagina. I'd rather be a hermaphrodite than some non-human monster.
Anyway, the combiner's dick started pulsing within my vagina and my
body built toward the grandest orgasm of my life.

When I finally tipped over the precipice, my organs exploded with
everything they had.  Only, instead of the familiar rush of fluid up
and out of my urethra, the catheter thing inside me pulsed more
strongly, in rhythm with my spasms, as if were SWALLOWING my fluids
inside the organs that produced them, and passing them back to the
combiner! I guess it didn't want to take a chance on losing any of my
precious genetic material.

By the time I came back to Earth, speaking figuratively, of course,
the female was already floating toward the membrane/airlock. Didn't
even take time to smoke a cigarette!

The combiner, however, was now fucking me in earnest, its body
undulating and the tube within me pulsing and growing larger. 
Suddenly, I felt three lumpish things pass in quick succession through
the combiner's dick into my 'vagina'.

Without a word or a gesture, the combiner withdrew all of its
appendages from my body and left, just as the female had done.

Well, to make a long story slightly less long, only one of the first
three zygotes matured to become a viable hybrid egg.  The wraiths
collected the residue that came out of me when the other two
'aborted'.

I waited in another chamber for three weeks, sleeping in zero G, my
abdomen growing progressively larger.  From about the end of the first
week, I felt like I had to shit all the time.  It was really difficult
to know when I really had to shit, and when I didn't, so I spent a lot
of time on the toilet (in null gravity, what that means is I hung by
my ass from a suction tube!). In a way, that helped me with another
little problem. My bladder was squeezed down to nothing and I had to
pee almost constantly.  By the end of the third week, I had a much
greater appreciation for what pregnant mothers went through.  I was
also rapidly becoming an ardent pro-choice supporter.

Finally, just when I started thinking about finding some way to dig
the thing out, a couple of wraiths - a male and a combiner, came in. 
The combiner touched me, and somehow I realized it was the same one
who helped me get into this condition.  Something in the moist contact
was absorbed into my skin, sending me into that euphoric state.  The
combiner stuck an appendage between my lips, and I tasted tamarinds or
something like them.

Suddenly, my stomach began to heave. The egg that had been growing
inside me was apparently ready to be laid.

My 'vaginal' opening started to relax, just as another spasm hit me. 
The male steadied me as something began poking its way out of me. One
more enormous spasm, and the biggest turd you've ever seen forced it's
way through my sphincter. I was screeching in agony, but had no
choice, as the egg lodged halfway out, other than to give one final
heave, squirting the mucous covered pink oval into the hands of the
waiting male, who caught it like a wide receiver.

The combiner touched the egg and it hardened instantly to a lustrous
mother-of-pearl finish.

The male took the egg down the passageway to the 'hatchery', while the
combiner pumped me full of something that dampened the residual pain
and, apparently, helped my ravaged opening to heal.

Two days later, I was back in the breeding room. This time, the
buildup was longer, but incredibly, my orgasm was even more intense,
and lasted longer than the first time.  The female stuck around a
little longer, too, apparently not released by the combiner until it
had finished pumping five lumps into me.

Three of the new eggs were healthy, and my next three weeks were even
more miserable.  It was hard to understand - I really looked forward
to the breeding, but suffered incredibly for the three weeks
afterward.

By the end of my second pregnancy, I was staring miserably in the
mirror at stretch marks on my stomach.

Incredibly, by the time I had laid the three new eggs (not quite as
painfully, thank whatever diety we're worshipping this week), my first
daughter (I named her Chloe) was entering 'puberty'. She had the body
of a thirteen year old, and the mind of a computer.

In the two and a half weeks of her life, Chloe had absorbed the entire
online content of the Library of Congress, and cross-checked it for
errors and inconsistencies.

When it came time for my third breeding, Chloe came into my sleeping
chamber.

"I am to be the combiner for this coupling, Father." my daughter
whispered as one of her pale hands sought mine.

"I can't do that!" I balked, "I can't fuck my own daughter! That's
incest!"

She looked at me with opalescent eyes that had no pupils, and kissed
me tenderly on the lips.

"It's all right, Father." the delicate waif with silver hair breathed,
"there will be no repercussions. No problems with inbreeding. My
sisters and I are almost good enough to be translators, but our
daughters will be even better. They will be the ones to bring our two
heritages together. Come, now.  I want you to plant your seed inside
me.

 From the point where her lips touched mine, a glow suffused me, and
somehow, everything was all right.

We entered the breeding room together to find a female wraith already
there. Chloe turned and kissed me again, and the familiar euphoria
flooded my being, only this time, I was still able to move a little.

As my lovely daughter settled her hymen-less vagina over the rampant
shaft of my cock, I was lost in a strange, forbidden world of incest
that was not incest.

The lovely pre-teen girl enveloped me inside her body as if she'd been
fucking all her life.  Her nipples attached to mine like tiny mouths,
and the familiar sensation of tendrils invading my tits started again.
 At the same time, another tendril catheterized my cock, just as with
the other combiners.  This time, however, there was a difference. The
female penetrated Chloe's anus and became attached to her back as
before, but nothing penetrated me!

Chloe, as if she read my thoughts, breathed, "I will carry the eggs
this time, father. My sisters and I were created with that purpose in
mind."

It was a marvelous change, despite the presence of the female wraith,
to have an almost human lover again.  And what a lover! Chloe was
passionate and responsive, a welcome change from the impassive
chemical factory of the wraith combiners.  To be honest, the very idea
of fucking my daughter contributed to my arousal, and in record time,
I was ready to blow.

I knew it was going to be the most incredible orgasm yet, but for some
reason, it wouldn't come! It's like, I got right THERE, and somebody
put me on hold!

Chloe, meanwhile, was building toward her own peak, sighing and
undulating against my body. Her pelvis slid up and down my rod,
faster, and faster. Her body pumped things into me that had me soaring
higher and higher, ready to explode at any moment, but unable to do
so!

Finally, I felt a pulsing through the membrane that separated my cock
from that of the female wraith, and Chloe went ballistic. A high, thin
whine filled the chamber and an odor of cinnamon and passionfruit
assaulted my nostrils. As my tiny, trembling daughter plunged into the
abyss, she released whatever chemical hold she had on me and my organs
emptied themselves into her sucking tubes. Whatever mechanism she used
to pump those fluids into herself must have been working overtime,
because I NEVER, EVER had an orgasm like that, before or since!

Panting heavily, Cloe gave me an ethereal smile. "Thank you father,"
she husked, "that was incredible!"

She seemed to be looking off into space for a moment, then said, "The
one who joined us thanks you, as well!"

"Really?" I was a little shocked, "I kind of thought they just put up
with this for the sake of the race, or whatever!"

Chloe gave a tinkling giggle, colored lights flashing within her opal
eyes, "She, like you, was chosen because it was determined that she
would enjoy the chance to couple with another species."

"Hm!" I mused, "Whaddaya know about that!?"

My silver haired wraithlet laughed again, "Quite a lot, actually!
These beings you call wraiths communicate by exchanging body fluids -
a very sensual act, as you know. You'd be surprised how much curiosity
there is about your sexual practices!"

She leaned close and whispered conspiratorially into my ear, "She just
had the best orgasm of her life! She gave me enough of her eggs to
fertilize a whole litter!"

Chloe's expression turned dark, "Too bad I can only keep a dozen of
them!"

"A dozen!" I was shocked, "You're not big enough to carry ONE! Much
less a dozen!"

She smiled again, "You're sweet to worry about me Father, but you
forget how fast I've been growing. We - the other wraiths and I - have
calculated that I'll be a full grown adult long before the eggs are
ready to be laid.  I've also been given a very flexible egg pouch, but
it can only stretch so far, and twelve is all I can safely handle."

I was given a short vacation while my other three daughters, Margaret,
Penelope, and Pollyanna, matured enough to jump my bones in the
breeding room. (Why one 'M' and two 'P's? Think about it: Penny,
Polly, and... Peggy, of course!)

Each was a little different than the others.  

Penny was shy and apprehensive, but when the time came, so did she -
like gangbusters!

Polly was bouncy and cheerful, and backward! The hole for the female
was in front, and I had to bring up the rear! (not that I'm
complaining, mind you. I know all you dirty old men out there would
just love to stick your nasty dicks up a thirteen year old butt, and
I'm no exception! I enjoyed the hell out of it!)

Peggy, though, Peggy was something special.  She had a way of using
both her human and wraith talents to maximize the pleasure for all
three of us. (Yeah, she helped the wraith female out, too, and why not
- she was half wraith!) It wasn't the mind-blowing orgasm that Chloe
gave me. Instead, it was sweet, slow, and sensual. She built all three
of us up gradually, over a very long time, never having to shut me off
as Chloe had done, but controlling the pace so that all of us were
ready together, and just sort of swooped down the clean curl of the
wave, to land gracefully in the shallows.

A couple of days after I finished doing my duty with those three,
Chloe was back, looking fresh as a silver-haired daisy, but all grown
up now.  Somehow, the wraiths stopped the girls' aging right after
they reached young adulthood. But adult Chloe was just as beautiful
and charming as pre-teen Chloe, but hornier and more experienced.

It turns out that the wraiths designed them to be constantly aroused. 
By the time I'd serviced all four of my daughters again, my
granddaughters started arriving, also needing to carry my eggs.

Within half a year, we had produced enough translators to get things
going between the wraiths and us. It also turns out that it's not as
much of a psychological stretch to fuck a half-wraith being that looks
like a human female as it is to fuck a full wraith combiner, so there
were now dozens of volunteers. (Actually, once my daughters started
appearing on television, guys were lined up around the block at FBI
headquarters, volunteering to breed translators.)

For my part, I was still in great demand with my offspring and the
wraiths.  According to my daughters, (and granddaughters, and
greatgranddaughters, etc.) they liked fucking with me, because they
got to absorb the virtual feelings from my fertile pornographer's
imagination, as well as remembered sensations and emotions from real
encounters.  The combiners apparently passed this on, having absorbed
it with my body chemistry.  The wraiths especially enjoyed the illicit
feelings I passed on while fucking my offspring. In fact, they enjoyed
it so much that even when we no longer had to worry about breeding
translators, male and female wraiths would solicit one of my offspring
to engage me in a little recreational inter-species fun.

I only got to watch my progeny at work a couple of times, and let me
tell you, that was plenty.  I told you wraiths communicate by sharing
body fluids?  I also told you that my daughters are nymphos by design?
 Well, guess how wraiths exchange body fluids?  You got it!

My first experience with this was when I sat in an observation booth
and watched one of my granddaughters handle a particularly tricky
negotiation.  Basically, she sat nude (because pheromones carry the
nuance of wraith speech and her body was a big pheromone
sensor/transmitter), fully impaled on the erect members of two male
wraiths, translating their chemical speech into English and orgasms. 
By the time the meeting was over, even the old maid who was Secretary
of Defense had juices running down her thighs as she staggered out of
the room and every male human in the vicinity had at least one wet
spot on the front of his trousers.

Having done it's duty to god and my country, my vagina dried up and
blew away. (Actually, my daughters, once the concept had been proven
of having them carry the eggs, injected me with something that caused
it to be adsorbed into my system).

My progeny, still horny as ever, and somewhat more capable than their
mothers of handling gravity, took to visiting me in the medium gravity
room I liked to use for certain recreational activities - mostly in
the arms of one of my lovely descendents.  We couldn't make babies, in
the normal human sense, but many of them developed a taste for good
ol' one-on-one, gravity well style screwing.

Now I know you're asking yourself, 'How does a middle-aged man keep up
with all those nubile young nymphets?'.

Well let me tell you, buster. When one of 'em wants to fuck, all she
has to do is touch me.  The stuff they inject in me is better'n Viagra
and Spanish Fly mixed together!

I come down here now and then to take care of business - like tonight
I'm doing Letterman - but mostly I just stay up there and fuck my
brains out!  I never did write that book, but the movie's gonna make
me rich all over again. Don't look for a PG-13 rating on it, though!.

I just need to figure out what to do with all that money! It's not
like I need to buy a lot of stuff to impress the girls, and they don't
WEAR clothes. Perfume screws up their senses if they try to wear it.
They don't eat. They only drink water. Maybe I could get 'em a
chemistry set...

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+