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Message-ID: <46179asstr$1073844605@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: shakespeer2b@yahoo.com (Shakes Peer2B)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Sun, 11 Jan 2004 06:57:34 +0000 (UTC)
Subject: {ASSM} (New)Lost and Found in Space (M/alien, SciFi, oral, anal, caution)
Date: Sun, 11 Jan 2004 13:10:05 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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Second try...

Feedback PLEASE!
________________________________
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.
_________________________________
Lost and Found in Space (M/alien, SciFi, oral, anal, caution)
(C)Copyright 2004 - 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')
________
The signal was weak and the static was terrible, but I could have
sworn the image in my comscreen changed as I picked up the distress
call. Well, roaming the depths of space in a tin can that's held
together with chewing gum and baling wire will do that to you.

Oh, I see! You think I'm kidding about the chewing gum and baling
wire! Well, I'll have you know there's not much that's better for
those pinhole meteorite leaks than chewing gum. It fills the hole then
freeze-dries, but you gotta remember to chew all the sugar out of it
first! And that spool of baling wire I got from those farmers on
Fletcher's World, about ten stops ago, fixes everything from lost
screws to broken shelf brackets to loose drive cover plates. Hey, when
you don't get to civilization more than once or twice a decade, you
learn to improvise.

Anyway, here I was about three jumps out from the Clouseau sector,
staring at the static-raddled image of my dream girl! Hell, didn't
take no Commonwealth space law to make me lock onto that signal!
Looking that good, she had to be some rich guy's daughter, or maybe
his concubine.  If he didn't get blown up with his ship or something,
he'd probably be grateful enough to offer a nice reward to her savior.
 If he did get blown up, well, there was always the slave market at
New Hope, or better yet, Madam Grenville's place back on Three Point. 
She's always looking for something fresh to offer those miners.

Took me a day and a half to catch up to the pod, and the whole way, I
kept wondering what in the nine hells a rich groper had been doing way
the hell out here.  We weren't anywhere near Commonwealth territory,
and it was unlikely an escape pod had traveled more than a few hundred
thousand miles - not if the occupant was still alive.

When I finally caught up to it, the pod didn't look like any that were
made in the Commonwealth, which meant it wasn't of human design.  I
went through my ship's database but couldn't find an alien match
either.  That had me puzzled.  See, there's two things we 'frontier
explorer's' can't afford to skimp on - drives and computers. We run
across things most folks never even dream about, and if somebody else
has come across it before, it could mean the difference between life
and death, or between huge profits and wasted trips. I had downloaded
the latest data from the Commonwealth Explorer's Repository at my last
stop, and uploaded my logs, so I was pretty current.  The Repository
is a privately owned datastore paid for by the Explorer's League
membership dues, and is not subject to government interference. We all
depend on it, and only hold back information long enough to make sure
that we get our profit before anyone else can horn in on our
discoveries.

So now I was getting really excited, and even more perplexed.  On the
one hand, if this pod was of unknown alien origin, and I could figure
out where it came from, I'd be set for life!  On the other hand, what
the hell was a beautiful human girl doing in an unknown alien
lifeform's pod?

Docking was impossible because of the weird triangular shape of the
hatch, so I snaked across the boarding tube and when its flexible rim
sealed against the pod's hull, quick as a wink, the triangular hatch
split into three smaller triangles and withdrew into the edges of the
frame. I was suited - standard procedure when boarding unknown
spacecraft - and the noxious crap that billowed out into the tube
didn't bother me.  A quick check of my suit's sensors showed methane
and a bunch of other weird gases.  Rather than foul my ships filters
with the shit, I left my hatches closed.  I could afford to replace
the ox and En-too that filled the tube and airlock, but just barely. 
Didn't have any spare scrubbers, though.

A long, skinny, tentacle thing wormed its way out the alien hatch and
waved around the interior of the boarding tube as if looking for
something.  I stood back and let it wave, not knowing whether it was
dangerous or not.

A soft, feminine voice wafted out of the hatch, "Please wait while I
adjust my body chemistry to your Oxygen/Nitrogen atmosphere..."

Adjust...? I kinda expected to see the bunny from the comscreen come
slinking out in a designer pressure suit. What was all this body
chemistry adjustment crap?

These thoughts were driven from my head as a vision of loveliness did
slink out the hatch, only she wore nothing but - well, nothing!

No more than five feet tall even in zero gee, she was stunningly
blonde with small, perfectly mounded breasts topped by tiny, delicious
pink nipples centered on tightly crinkled aureolae. Her face was like
a composite of every supermodel in the Commonwealth, and her slender
waist flared out to wide hips which cradled a flat, softly rounded
belly. No pubic hair or stubble spoiled the perfection of her nether
lips where they nestled between soft thighs atop shapely legs.

This was like every wet-dream I had ever had, coming true right before
my eyes!

"I will make final adjustments once aboard your ship, away from the
mingled gases of our separate atmospheres." the vision cooed as she
floated toward my airlock.

I followed, unable to take my eyes off the gentle curve of her
buttocks, as she glided into the open outer door. Finally,
remembering, I rasped "Uhh, is there anyone else on your pod?"

She just smiled at me and I smiled stupidly back, until I remembered
to tongue the switch for the suit's external speaker. With face as red
as the iron ore on Weeblock, I repeated the question.

This time she answered softly, "No, I am-was the only being aboard
that vessel."

A million questions filled my skull, but I figured she'd been through
a lot, and didn't want to stress her with a lot of 'what's and 'why's
right now.

She answered some of my questions and raised about a billion more when
she looked over her lovely body and said, "Interesting.  This is the
first time I've taken a form like this! I've seen bi-peds before, of
course, but always wondered why you didn't fall over in gravity!"

The scrubbers finally finished replacing the air in the lock with the
real thing and I struggled out of my suit as the blonde floated
curiously around the tiny cabin of my ship, examining this, touching
that, with no expression on her face.

Funny, no sooner had I noticed the lack of facial expression, than her
face came alive with curiosity, as if she had read my mind and
corrected the deficiency.

Ordeal or not, I HAD to know how this gorgeous creature wound up in
the middle of nowhere perfectly groomed but with nothing to wear!

"Um, miss?" I croaked, throat still dry from the suit's bottled air,
"How the hell did you wind up way out here in the middle of nowhere in
an alien spacecraft?"

She looked puzzled. "I don't know what you mean. That is the escape
pod from my former owner's private space vehicle. I was in it because
my owner insisted on saving my life instead of his own when the drive
malfunctioned.  I assume, from the force of the explosion and the
amount of debris that passed the escape pod, that he was destroyed
with his craft."

"Your owner?" I was adrift in the unknown in more ways than one.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she gave an awkward sort of bow or something and
continued, "I am Sheer-nah. A Class I pleasure drone from the farms of
Koo-trak on Prrreeeltik! By the rules governing ownership of pleasure
drones, if my legal owner dies, I must sell or give myself to another
being at the earliest opportunity.  Since this is the first
opportunity I have had, I hereby formally give myself to you, and beg
your forbearance while I learn the uses of this form in giving you
pleasure!"

"Pleasure drone?" I struggled, unsuccessfully, to catch up with events
that were whirling wildly out of control.

"Yes, and one of the best, or so I'm told!" she chirped.

"Just what IS a pleasure drone?" I asked, finally finding something to
grasp onto.

"We are artificially engineered beings of limited intelligence" she
sing-songed, "who, though capable of autonomous action when required,
are primarily guided by the pleasure related thoughts of our owners.
My body has taken this form in response to your thoughts. It must be
one that you find attractive."

"You can read my mind?" I asked, more than a little worried.

"No," she giggled, "but my organism responds to your thought patterns.
My mind has no access to the patterns that your mind produces, but
pleasure drones were specifically engineered to receive and respond to
the thoughts of their owners. Thus, we no more control the form we
take, nor the actions we take in giving pleasure, than you control
what you call your heartbeat."

"Then this is not your natural shape?" Boy was I quick on the uptake!
"What do you look like when you're not being something else?"

"A pleasure drone HAS no shape of its own!" she lectured, "to do so
would create identity conflicts that would ultimately destroy our
usefulness to our owners. We are most comfortable in whatever form our
owner imposes on us."

"So if I thought of a little boy," I tested, "you would become one?"

"Not unless those thoughts carried patterns that indicated you would
receive pleasure from a being with that form." She sounded like she
was reading from a book, "There is also a certain time delay to avoid
my changing too rapidly from one form to another. It has been found
that some species' thoughts flit from form to form so rapidly that my
organism would not be able to keep up, and would become 'scrambled'
from the effort."

Unbidden, the image of a fair-haired lad who'd offered himself to me
on Scarbella came into my head.  All alone, deep in space, the old
fantasies tire after awhile, and new ones must be found to keep
hand-sex enjoyable.  That young lad had shared my bed many a night, in
my fantasies.

I shook the cobwebs out of my head when I felt warm lips engulf my
rapidly rising member.  The blonde girl had disappeared and in her
stead, the spitting image of that pretty little boy knelt before me,
gazing wide-eyed and innocent into my face as my shaft slipped easily
down his throat.

"Oh SHIT!" I cried, as my long-pent lust welled up and flooded the
lad's throat with thick white cream.

Licking a last strand of sticky fluid from my dick, he looked up and
asked, in the same sweet voice I remembered, "Did I do it good,
Mister?"

I stroked his hair with my hand and husked, "You were perfect!"

My lust abated, I tucked my limp member into my jumpsuit. As I was
about to check my status board, the young boy metamorphosed back into
a lithe young girl with long blonde hair.  Watching the change, I
realized why I had been so attracted to the boy - he wasn't all that
different in appearance than my dream girl!

I finished my status check in a few seconds, then, my mind having no
other escape, started chewing on the ramifications of what I had
found. The more I thought about it, the more excited I got!

Just to be sure, I did an exhaustive search through the explorer's
database and found nothing even remotely resembling a pleasure drone. 
Not even the exotic mind-fuckers of Kendeleria III could do what this
being seemed capable of!

"Tell me, Sheer-nah," I questioned, "Do you feel pain?"

This seemed to stump her for a minute, then her face cleared and she
responded slowly, "Not in the sense that you mean it. I feel
sensations of various sorts and your mental image tells my form how
I'm expected to react to them, but the being inside the shell doesn't
feel anything resembling what you call 'pain'."

"So if I do this..." I backhanded her, hard, and her body went
spinning across the cabin to fetch up against the far bulkhead. I
steady my own spin by grabbing a stanchion.

"OW!" she cried, fragile hand going to her mouth. "What did you do
that for!?"

Fear and hurt tinged her voice, just as I would have expected from a
real woman.

A trickle of red fluid dripped from the corner of her mouth and she
wiped at it, tears springing from her eyes.

Damn! She was VERY realistic!

"That didn't hurt?" I asked, hopefully.

Her blonde hair shook.

"No," she replied, "I felt a sharp pressure when you struck me, of
course, but I really have no concept of pain beyond that which your
mind supplies."

"What about the blood?" I asked, pointing to her red-smeared face.

"You must have expected that," she said looking disinterestedly at her
stained fingers, "or my body couldn't have produced it."

Suddenly, the fluid vanished, leaving her skin as flawless as before.

"What if I cut off, say, your arm?" I probed.

She looked curiously at her upper appendages. "I would require a
substantial amount of protein to replenish the loss of that much body
mass. Until I can regenerate, once the thoughts that led to you
severing my extrusion have subsided, I would re-form this body with
the remaining available mass.  That is, I would re-shape this body to
be slightly smaller."

"Is it possible to kill a Pleasure slave?" I was just curious now. I
wouldn't kill the lebhopper that laid the golden eggs, but I wanted to
know how much care it was going to need.

The answer was even longer in coming, this time, "It is easy to feign
the death of this body for a period of time, if that enhances your
pleasure, and prolonged exposure to extreme heat or cold will disrupt
my composition to the point where I can no longer function, even after
being removed from the hostile environment.  If denied protein for
very long periods - several months, by the way you measure time - my
organism would consume enough of its mass that brain function would no
longer be possible.  If given protein at that point, I would
regenerate, but not as the same pleasure drone.  From your
perspective, the only thing missing would be memory."

"And if you weren't given protein at that point?" I coaxed.

"My organism would continue consuming itself until only a single cell
remained." she replied, in a matter of fact tone, "after that cell
died, it would not be possible to regenerate a pleasure drone from the
remains."

"It doesn't bother you that I'm asking these questions?" I was a bit
bothered myself, "Don't you worry that I might harm or kill you?"

"Why would I worry about that?" she looked genuinely puzzled, "I have
given myself to you. You may use or dispose of me as you wish."

"Damn!" I muttered under my breath, thinking, 'A sex object that truly
thinks of herself as a sex object!'.

"Well, dear," I shook my head, exasperated, "I still need to get on
with the business of exploring and finding new things.  How long ago
did you say the debris from your master's ship passed your pod?"

"Let's see," her brow furrowed prettily, "six days, four hours,
thirteen minutes, and twenty-two seconds ago."

My eyebrows raised at the precision of her answer, but I continued,
"And how long before that did your pod leave the ship?"

"Five minutes, thirty-seven seconds."

"I don't suppose you know your pod's acceleration away from the ship?"
I asked hopefully.

"One hundred sixty six point zero five seven feet per second per
second, constant, until engine cutoff." she recited.

Again my eyebrows raised. More than five gees! I guess she was tougher
than she looked!

I already knew the velocity to which she accelerated, so I plugged the
numbers into the nav computer and got a plot of the expanding sphere
of the ship's remains.

"Too scattered, damn it!" I growled.

Engines would have been destroyed, but assuming an elongated shape of
some sort, as all jump drive ships I knew of were, there might be
something salvageable from up near the bow. I confirmed with Sheer-nah
that, like Commonwealth pods, hers had accelerated straight away from
one side at right angles to its flight, and the computer plotted me
the most likely search cone for bow debris.

A few more instructions and it plotted a least-fuel course to get
there.  Anything small was already gone off into the far reaches of
intergalactic space, but larger masses, which is what I was most
interested in, wouldn't have as much velocity on them, and might still
be recoverable, but I needed to be careful with the fuel calcs if I
was going to get there with enough to turn whatever I found into a
return vector for the jump back to the commonwealth.

So why didn't I just jump to the volume of space I was going to
search? Come on! Jump into a known debris field!? Haven't spent much
time out there have you buddy? Yeah, thought so! So just so you don't
look like a doolaffer next time you talk to a spacer remember this: No
two objects can occupy the same volume of space. Try, and they both
get annihilated.  That's why some of us 'explorers' never come back -
we're always jumping into unknown space, and all it takes is a little
space rock to blow us to kingdom come. Only reason more of us don't
bite it is the sheer size of space.

Anyway, as you can see, I got most of the bridge of the alien ship.
The offers I've got on that already, especially since the navcomp
seems to be on backup power, will make me richer than God. What I want
from you is some modification to my boat. In return, I'll give you one
night with little Sheer-nah here...

What can she do? Well, I already told you about her turning into that
cute little boy, but let me tell you some of the stuff we tried on the
way to find the ship and bring it home.  Had to take all those little
short jumps with this thing in tow, and re-calc between jumps took
forever, so we had plenty of time to, uh, experiment.

Course the first couple of days was just straight fuckin' - you know,
pussy, ass, mouth, the usual stuff.  It was great, no doubt! Never had
a whore on ANY planet that put as much heart and soul into making it
good for me!  No complaints about leaving her high and dry or
anything! She just gets off on getting ME off!

About a week into the trip, though, my mind started wandering to some
of those fantasies you come up with if you stay in space long enough.

Next thing I know, I'm plowing one of those cat-people from Shhteth,
fur, claws, and all! It was truly wild, my friend! When she got on all
fours and purred as I rammed into her furry butt, and wrapped that
fuzzy tail around me, I lost it big-time!

Yeah, man! She just changes to be whatever I'm in the mood for! I
don't even have to say anything!

What else? Well, a couple of days later, we were doing the old
missionary, when I got thinking about what it would be like to fuck a
Wraith. I mean, they ARE humanoid, even if they have those weird
fleshy tails.

Damn if Sheer-nah didn't pick up on that thought, and turn into a
Wraith while I was fucking her! I looked down into those saucer eyes
and that lipless mouth and fucked for all I was worth. Then I feel
something wiggling between my butt-cheeks, and the Wraith's tail
forced its way into my ass! Now I don't know how she did it, but it
didn't hurt or anything!

Anyhow, the tail starts moving in and out, and forces me in and out in
front, and DAMN did I shoot!  I must have passed out, cause when I
opened my eyes, Sheer-nah was back to her usual body.

Hey! Get your hands out of your pockets, man! I ain't givin' no
freebies.  I'll tell you one more story, then we get down to brass
tacks, 'kay?

One layover, I didn't have anything to do while the computer was
calculating my next jump, and my mind was just wandering.  I don't
usually wear clothes shipboard unless I gotta repair somethin', and
the next thing I knew, there was this irridescent, translucent,
amorphous blob surrounding my crotch!  It was kinda sucking on my
dick, but some sort of pseudopod started goin' up my peehole while
another one started up my ass! Man! I almost creamed right there, but
then a couple of tendrils reached up and started sucking at my
nipples!

Oh, shit, that felt GOOD! The whole thing started this kind of
undulating motion inside and out and just kept getting faster and
faster! Some sort of ball-things started running up and down the
lengths of those tentacle things inside me and I was a goner! I don't
know where it went, but since it's protein, I guess Sheer-nah
'consumed' it.

Oh yeah! That's something I forgot to mention - STD's! She can't get
'em or carry 'em. Anybody puts any kind of protein in her body, it
becomes part of her. Her body breaks it down and turns it into
whatever kind of goop she uses to form all those different shapes.

There you go playing pocket pool again! Come on, let's get down to
business before you have to go change your pants!

Now, what I need is a little more room in the cabin, and the best
engine you've got that'll fit in my hull. Oh yeah, you can throw in a
computer upgrade too!

What? Damn straight one night's worth it! Pfft! Those hags over at
Ella's couldn't do you half as good as Sheer-nah, even if she COULDN'T
change shape!

Trade her? Not on your life, buddy! You ain't seen a ship that's worth
tradin' for this little girl!  See, what you don't GET is that it's
not just a night of fucking!  It's any fantasy you can think of coming
true - instantly!

Nah, I'm not going to be here that long, and even if I was, it ain't
worth it. Tell you what, since I need a little rest, I'll give you
twenty four hours with her, and that's being generous!

Damn you drive a hard bargain, but OK! Forty eight hours if you'll
throw in a new antenna array! Oh yeah, and don't forget all those
leaks and the stuff held together with baling wire!

All right man, your time starts after the upgrades are done.

Oh, hell, OK! Twelve hours now, the rest when the work's done.

No, hang on! There's this little ceremony we got to perform. I told
you, she only responds to her owner.

Sheer-nah, as your current owner, duly given custody according to the
rules governing ownership of pleasure-drones, I hereby give you to
this man for a period of exactly twelve hours, standard time, in
return for agreed upon upgrades and repairs to my ship. At the end of
that time ownership reverts to me.

<Twelve hours later>

Nah man, come on, we got a deal. You do the work, you get the rest of
your time.  I don't CARE what you were about to do! I told you about
her time sense, so that's your fault for not keeping an eye on the
clock. Just nurse your blue balls and think about how good it's going
to be!

Nah, I don't need a tractor beam generator, mine's just fine. Yeah, I
guess I could use a kitchen upgrade, and the head could use a rework.
All right, six more hours, but AFTER the work's done...

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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