index


Message-ID: <31877asstr$997110604@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "chew toy" <wellgnawed@hotmail.com>
Mime-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: text/plain; format=flowed
Subject: {ASSM} Some Annoying Aliens Ch 6 (mc, nc, mmff, fd, md, ft, humil, humor, bdsm, sf)
Date: Mon,  6 Aug 2001 11:10:04 -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

Some Annoying Aliens (mc, nc, hyp, mff, fd, md, ft, humil,
                     humor, mast, bdsm, furry, robots, sf)

Copyright 2001 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.

NB: previous chapters may be most easily found here:
http://www.mcstories.com/SomeAnnoyingAliens/index.html

---

                    CHAPTER SIX

---

  Mrs. Parker-Smith was being probed by aliens.

  The elderly widow lay naked, strapped to a strangely-
shaped table, while her examiners stood above her speaking
in their incomprehensible alien language.

  <Heh, heh, this always gets 'em,> said the shorter one,
a grey-skinned hairless creature with thin limbs, a large,
bulbous head, and big, dark, almond-shaped eyes.  It held
up a rodlike instrument, a meter long and as thick as Mrs.
Parker-Smith's wrist.  It made sure she saw the device,
then reached under the "examining table" they had her
strapped to, and placed the tip at the opening of her
rectum.  Her eyes widened.

  <We're not here to get your jollies, we're here to get
this 'Smith' to cough up our payment,> replied the taller
one, a thin insectoid creature that looked like an enormous
beetle in a tweed suit.  <Besides, Smith's an off-worlder,
not one of these sheltered natives; he's probably seen
every perversion you can dream up.  Hell, he's from the
Imperial sector-- he's probably *done* them all.>

  <She,> replied the short one.  <I'm pretty sure this
one's a she.>

  <You know, mammalian xenobiology really doesn't interest
me,> said the tall one impatiently.  <Getting my payment
does.>  It switched to English.  "So, Smith, where's my
money?"

  Mrs. Parker-Smith fainted.

--

  Gina's inspection of the sheep pen, a reluctant Greg in
tow, was interrupted when two people in suits, a man and
a woman, came over the hill.

  "Hello!"  the man called.  "Is this your farm?"

  "No, we just thought it looked quaint and we stopped to
take a closer look," Gina replied.

  "Yeah, just looking.  Not doing anything unnatural...
with the sheep or anything," Greg added.  Gina stepped on
his foot.

  "Well, that's a relief.  Jock Miller, FBI."  He held
out his hand.  His handshake lingered a bit long while he
grinned at Gina, until she irritatedly pulled her hand
away.  He went on to cling to Greg's hand.

  "Diana Sealey, his *partner*," the woman said, the last
with a sharp look at Jock as she nudged him out of the
way to introduce herself.

  "So... you didn't happen to see a UFO go by while you
were here, did you?" asked Agent Miller.

  "Uh, no, no we didn't," Gina replied.  "Why do you ask?"

  "There's an unusual series of circular formations in
the field over there, and such formations have been
theorized to be associated with UFO landing sites."  He
pointed back over the hill as he talked.

  "Crop circles?  I thought those were done by some
college guys as a prank.  Didn't they come clean a few
years ago, and show how they'd made them with some boards
and string?"  Gina said.

  "Oh.  I guess this isn't an alien artifact, then."  A
disappointed-looking Agent Miller held up a collection
of 2x4's strung together with rope.

  "I told you alien artifacts don't have price tags from
the local hardware store," his partner spoke up.  "Uh,
we'll be going now.  Thanks for your time."

  "I recommend this sheep.  She's got a nice personality,"
Agent Miller said, pointing into the pen before turning
to walk away.

  "Come *on*, Miller," his partner called.

  "I'm coming, I'm coming..."

--

  John Park was a much better lover when Sandra was
making the moves.

  Unfortunately, Sandra couldn't remember how bad he'd
been before, due to the mind-control ray, and the
improvement wasn't enough to make him actually *good*.
After she'd wrestled him to the floor in the entryway,
he had groped her enthusiastically before coming after
being inside her for only a few strokes.  Then he
almost immediately fell asleep.

  *Last night must have worn him out, the poor boy,*
Sandra thought, rolling his snoring, drooling face off
of her breast and puzzling momentarily over a strange
sense of deja-vu.  *Well, he can make up for it later.
I'm going to fuck him again and again!*  She grinned.

  His softening cock slid out of her as she moved him
over, and a shiver ran through her.  *I just wish he'd
had time to finish what he started!* she thought,
putting a hand on her tingling pussy and letting her
fingers settle gently where she liked them best.  She
was all opened-up and slick with his cum, not like
masturbating in the shower, but already *so* hot...
She closed her eyes and pressed her hips up into her
hand.

  Then the front door opened, and John's roommate
walked in.

--

  Mr. Anders Haversson's house was shaped like a flying
saucer.

  As Imperial Galactic Police Agent Zaral Felt walked up
the front steps, he saw a hand-lettered sign reading
"Space Aliens Welcome!" on the front door.  *I've heard
of this,* Felt thought.  *He's come to identify with his
captors.  The abduction must have been a very traumatic
experience for him.*

  The doorbell rang an abstract five-note theme, and
Felt waited patiently to learn if Mr. Haversson was in.
After a few moments, the door slid sideways into the
wall, revealing a portly mountain of a man.  "Nanoo,
nanoo!" the man said cheerfully.

  "Um, hi," Felt replied.

--

  "The most horrible thing about this particular device,"
Princess Thrrmm lectured, "is that it feels so *good*."

  "Hmm," replied her star-pilot lover Deke distractedly,
staring into a mirror on the wall.  Like everyone else in
the room, each for their own reasons, he wasn't entirely
paying attention to the Princess's speech.  In his case,
it was due to a posthypnotic suggestion that everything
he saw and heard was pefectly ordinary and unremarkable
and he would remember none of it.  So he kept up a
steady stream of "Mm-hmm"s and "Uh-huh"s while attending
to his morning shave.

  His primitive electromechanical shaving device, an
affectation the Princess found charmingly quaint, was
attached by a long cord to a plug in the sex-robot
Genari's power receptacle.  The robot herself lay naked
on the floor, legs spread for the power cord, back
arched,  eyes closed, repeating quietly over and over,
"I will not interrupt a torture scene.  I will not
interrupt a torture scene..."  Occasionally she shuddered.

  The being closest to being a target for Princess
Thrrmm's received wisdom was hanging upside-down from
the wall, her naked bluish-grey body half engulfed by
the fleshy, writhing tentacles of the device Thrrmm
lovingly described.  The captive also had her eyes
closed, and appeared to be panting and shuddering
uncontrollably.

  "It's terribly disorienting," the Princess continued,
lecturing to her inattentive audience.  "It's taboo and
wonderful, painful and delightful, overwhelming you with
sensations until you don't even know if you *need* it to
continue or need it to stop, can't tell up from down or
yourself from the world..."

  The Princess stepped closer to the wall, leaning to
put her lips next to the captive's ear.  With a gesture,
she halted the tentacles' movement.  The prisoner
immediately began to shiver violently, whimpering.

  "Tell me your name," the Princess said softly.

  The bound female's shivers became even more violent,
her whimpers louder and less coherent.

  The Princess reached a delicate hand up between the
tentacles that wrapped her captive's inner thighs.
"Say your name," she whispered, and touched gently.

  "NEELA!  NEELA!  NEELA!" the captive screamed, body
clenching and thrashing as far as the ropes and
tentacles would allow.  "NEELA!  NEELA!  NEELA!
NEELA! NEELA!  NEELA! ..."

  "Now we're getting somewhere," the Princess purred
with satisfaction.

  "Mm-hm," Deke replied absently.

--

  John Smith, alien spymaster (alias Frrbnglrr), was
not entirely without resources.

  For one thing, his patron Princess Thrrmm's wealth
and status gave him access to state-of-the-art
scanning equipment, far better than backwater thugs
or even the Galactic Police had regular use of.  He
hadn't expected to need it on this mission, but had
brought it with him anyway because he liked the
blinky lights.

  It couldn't track down the mind-control device for
him, but it could tell him the number and location
of offworld ships on the planet.  One of them was
sure to be the smugglers he'd contacted; he could
meet with them directly, explain that the device had
*not* made it into his hands, and work out a plan
for finding it.

  *And THEN I can enslave the annoying human woman
and give her a permanent craving for carnal
relations with native mammalian quadrupeds!* he
thought furiously.  *And make her go out of her way
to fuck them in open, busy public places!  And visit
on her ten times the humiliation of her DAMNED
BLACKMAIL...*

  For the third time in a day, Smith came into the
emblem of his humiliation, Gina's inflatable sheep.

--

  It took some laying-about with the mind-control
ray for John Park to smooth over the scene caused
by his roommate walking in to find Sandra
masturbating on the floor of the front hallway
next to John's sleeping, mostly-naked body.

  Fortunately he was able to find the raygun after
only a little digging through the empty pizza-
boxes in his room.  His roommate was sent out on an
all-night errand with a command not to notice
anything unusual at the house in the future, and
Sandra simply made to forget the whole unfortunate
incident.

  Afterwards, he decided Sandra should give him a
blowjob.  This was someting neither of them had any
experience with, but Sandra caught on quickly, and
John was gratifyingly easy to get off.  It was
probably the best sex they'd had yet.

--

  Mr. Anders Haversson had been abducted by a *lot*
of aliens, it seemed.

  Most of them were species Galactic Police Agent
Zaral Felt had never heard of, flying ships he
didn't recognize.  The only thing they all had in
common was their propensity for anal probes.

  In fact, as they sat together in Mr. Haversson's
living room, Anders on a big thronelike metal easy
chair with buttons and blinky lights all along the
arms, and Agent Felt on a grey flying-saucer-shaped
loveseat, the man's lavish descriptions of anal
penetration started to get to Felt.  *Give it a
rest, I've gone without for days now,* Felt
thought, squirming a bit in his seat.

  "Oh, I'm sorry ma'am, I didn't mean to offend
you," Mr. Haversson said, with standard human
misreading of Agent Felt's gender.

  "No, no, that's all right," Felt replied.  "But,
ah... after the huge, steel instrument covered in
slick, warm conductive jelly slid into your naked,
exposed ass as you lay strapped to the examining
table, unable to cry out or stop it from driving
deeper, and deeper inside you, ah... um," Felt
licked his lips, "what happened then?"

  *I've got a box of toys stashed back at my
temporary base of operations, what the humans call
my 'apartment.'* Felt thought, half-listening as
the man's narrative continued.  *I wonder how fast
I can get there, when this interview is over?*

  "... and they control my mind with these rays
they beam to an implant in my brain," Mr. Haversson
was saying.

  Agent Felt was suddenly alert.  "What sort of
implant?" he asked.

  "I don't know, I've never seen it.  But it's
under the skin, right here," the man said, pointing
to the back of his neck.  "Can you feel it?"

  Felt touched the indicated spot.  There might
have been a lump there, he wasn't sure.
"Interesting.  Well, thank you, Mr. Haversson, I
think I have enough to go on for now.  Can I call
on you again in a few days, if I think of some more
questions?"

  "Sure, sure thing!  You said you're with the
World News Weekly?"

  "Um, that's where I got the lead.  But I'm a bit
more, um, independent..."

  "Freelance, sure, I understand.  Well, thanks
for listening to me, Sarah, it's great to talk to
someone who actually believes me!  The truth is
out there!"

  "Ah, yep.  Thank *you*, Mr. Haversson."  Felt
was already muttering to his Ship over his
communicator as he stepped out the front door and
onto the porch.  "Ship, you got all that?  I'll
need a personal scanner transported down here to
take a look at that implant device.  And some
surgical gear to remove it, if it does turn out
to be part of the mind-control setup."

  "You are planning to abduct Mr. Haversson and
perform a medical examination?" the Ship replied.

  "Don't get smart with me.  I--"

  "Pardon me, ma'am.  Is this your residence?"

  Zaral looked up to see a man in a dark suit
walking towards the house.  "Uh, no, I was just
leaving."

  "Agent Jock Miller, FBI."  The man held out
his hand.

  "Zaral Felt," Agent Felt replied, taking it.

  The man's grip was firm and lingering, and he
smiled at Zaral invitingly as he held it.
"Pleased to meet you, Sarah," he said, still
holding Felt's hand.

  He was pretty cute.  And Zaral was still horny
from the near-pornographic abduction stories he'd
been listening to all morning.  He found himself
smiling shyly in return.

  "You were headed back to the temporary base?"
the Ship prompted in his ear.

  Felt recovered his hand and started walking
again.  "Uh, I have to go," he muttered to Agent
Miller, with the hint of a blush.

  Agent Miller turned to watch Felt walk away,
until his partner came up beside him.  "Will you
keep your mind on the case for once?" she asked
irritably.

  With a shrug, Agent Miller turned and headed
up the walk towards Mr. Haversson's unique
dwelling.

--

  Stumbling back to her dorm room in the morning,
Sandra found Gina already away at class.  "Oh,
right, class.  Omigod, class!  I missed... well,
I guess it's too late for String Theory, but then
I have lunch, so there's some time.  I'll have to
find out what I missed.  What I missed for...
ooh, a wonderful fuck.  I'm going to fuck him
again and again!" she muttered to herself,
turning the last into a little song as she poked
about the room looking for some food.

  Seizing on some yogurt in their small dorm-room
fridge, Sandra started shucking her clothing as
she ate, and pulling some more acceptable
classroom wear out of her drawers.  *I'd still
love to get it on with John and another chick,*
she thought, *-- 'chick,' ha, listen to me!
Well, listen to me think... nobody can do that,
can they?  Nevermind then.  Chick.  Babe.  Girl.
Woman.  Gina, specifically...*

  She poured herself a glass of water to go with
her low-cal breakfast, and started dressing.

  *Sex with John and Gina.*  she sighed happily
at the thought.  *Not likely to happen if I can't
even introduce them, though, is it?  Gina has
this totally unfair bias against John, just
because he's... well, it's true, he doesn't
bathe all that much, and his apartment is kind
of a pit.  I guess bringing her over there might
not be the best plan.  How can I convince her,
though?*

  Sandra's eyes settled on a pile of schoolbooks
Gina had left out on the table when she went to
class.  Mostly psychology texts, the bottom one
was entitled, "Introduction to Hypnosis."

  *Hmmm...* Sandra thought...

_________________________________________________________________
Get your FREE download of MSN Explorer at http://explorer.msn.com/intl.asp

-- 
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>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository |
|<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations.         |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+