Alien Slaver
by Peter Loaf


It all starts with a knock on my front door. I get up, wondering who it could be, coming to my house in the middle of the day like this. I go to where I can look through the peephole. Standing on my front porch is a nicely dressed, extremely handsome young man, carrying a large case in one hand and his hat in the other. “Who is it?” I call through the door, keeping my eye against the lens.

He smiles a dazzling smile and says, “Acme Brushes.” while holding up the case so that I can read the large gold lettering on its side. It says ACME BRUSH COMPANY.

I call out again, “Can you show me some identification?”

Again the thousand watt smile as he produces an identity card with his face and the Acme logo on it.

Curious, I slide back the double dead bolts and let the door open to the end of its safety chain. “May I have a closer look at that card?” I say through the crack, thinking he must be the last door-to-door salesman in America.

He hands it in, managing to touch his fingertip to mine as he makes the pass. Instantly, as if by the blackest of magic, I am his sex slave.

I look at the card, my head spinning with a sudden urgent sexual desire for this total stranger. I can feel my body getting hot and horny, my sex swelling and growing tender between my thighs, my nipples tenting out the front of my thin sundress. In a kind of trance I close the door so I can release the chain, and then open it to this stranger, exactly as I would open my legs to a lover.

Stepping inside, he kicks the door closed behind him, sets down his sample case and says, “Take off all your clothing.” in a tone of voice that brooks no possibility of resistance.

As if in a dream I find myself obeying, slipping my dress down and stepping out of it to stand before him in only my panties, bobby socks and sneakers. Watching his dark, expressive eyes, I pull down my panties, kick off my shoes, remove my socks, and then stand before him, dressed in nothing save goose bump covered skin.

He steps up beside me and reaches between my legs, feeling how closely I keep myself shaved down there. Without waiting for his order I spread my legs wider, hoping he will fuck me soon, well and often.

I jerk a little as he fingers my burning pussy lips, spreading my sudden passion juice all over his hand.

Lifting his hand to his nose, he sniffs as if he were a gourmet chef, sampling the sauce.

I stand with my legs spread, my hands at my sides, hopeful, hot and completely under his spell.

He trails his magic fingers up across my belly, spreading my wetness up to my throbbing breasts, my rock hard nipples. My own sex scent is filling my head, making me feel weak in the knees.

He presses down on my shoulders, slowly forcing me to a kneeling position. Opening his sample case, he takes out a small bundle of nylon rope and begins to tie my wrists together behind my back, cinching the loops so tight that I know I will never be able to get myself free. The elbow bind comes next; this cinched so tight my arms become one useless appendage running down my back. It is not comfortable, it is not meant to be. Still under his spell, I do not object or try to resist in any way as he forces a large rubber gag ball into my mouth then buckles the strap behind my neck.

Helping me to lie out on my belly, he takes a third bundle of rope and ties my ankles together, side by side and cinched as tight as my wrists and elbows. I know I will remain bound until he releases me, yet do not care. My only desire at this moment is that he mates with me, that he fucks me.

Picking up my helpless, sweat-drenched body, he positions me again so that I am sitting on my heels and then forces me down so that my big breasts are touching my kneecaps. Wrapping yet another length of nylon rope around both my back and under my knees, he binds me in that position, the captive supplicant awaiting judgment at the feet of her Master.


As he begins to remove his clothing, he smiles down at me in a fierce, feral way and then snaps his fingers in a manner that seems to break the spell. I feel a strange kind of release, as if my mind had been taken over and now it is free. Suddenly I know the panic of the captive slave girl, about to be used. Gone are the passions I’ve been feeling, the imperative sexual demands, and the calm acceptance of his will.

But now my body is not free.

As his trousers lower I see how strong and perfectly formed his body is, how well hung, how erect.

I remember how today is my most fertile day of the month and regret having decided that, since I haven’t been dating, I didn’t need to stay on the pill. Naked, he kneels beside me, his musty, male animal scent coming on as strong as in the lion house at the zoo. His hands come and caress me, making me shiver and sweat. I struggle against my bondage, gaining nothing except pain. I am fixed, I am bound, and I am going nowhere.

He sits on the rug so that his legs straddle my face, engulfing my head with his manly stink. He rubs the creamy wetness from his cock, first on my gag-sundered lips, then up into each of my nostrils. I taste him and smell him and begin to know a second kind of magic. It is a transformation of my fear into desire. Where before, the magic had been imposed from the outside, now I realize this magic is coming from within me. This magic is my slave state rearing its too-shy head; it is born of my deeply repressed desire to be taken, to be raped. Again I struggle against my restraints, needing to know my helplessness.


My captor gets up and moves around behind me where he kneels and begins to rub his organ against my swelling labia, my puckered anus. I protest at this last but he only probes a little deeper, making me know how much it is going to hurt when the time comes. Fixed in place, helpless to deny him anything, I feel his hands caressing my bottom, his hard cock probing my vulva, my pussy’s gulping, cream gushing acceptance.

He begins to fuck me, his big cock filling and stretching my vulva with purest pleasure, purest passion, and purest sexual desire. His fingers trail down my ribs to take my breasts in their grip, squeezing passion into me as you would squeeze the bulb on a blood pressure cuff.

I moan and wiggle my butt, clenching on him so tight it hurts, needing more. He withdraws, leaving me hanging, stretched, open and gulping. He rolls me over, balancing me on the triangle of my bound upper arms and the back of my head. My pussy sticks up in the air, and he lowers his face into it, his long tongue getting there first and reaching deep inside me for my g spot. His mouth seals itself over my opening and he first suckles me then inflates my vulva with his hot breath, then tongue lashes my g spot while holding in the giant pussy fart he has made.

When he finally lifts his mouth from me I see him seem to flicker in and out of focus as the pussy fart washes up his nasal passages.

He bends back to me and begins to suckle on my clitoris, hurting it at first, but then settling down to a relentless series of growing pleasures.

Panting, my body on fire, needing his cock ten times as much as I had when under his spell, I wiggle and hum, crying out, pleading in passion and desire.

Keeping me balanced on my shoulders, he moves around to where he can mount my face like you’d mount a horse. Suddenly my nose is poking into his asshole, my chin supporting his big, smelly scrotum. Gripping my big breasts, he begins to tit fuck me, his thumbs feeling like cat’s tongues on my tender nipples. I begin to come, my empty, upended pussy gulping air because that is all it can get.

Awareness finds me, again on my knees, my Master again fucking the life back into me. I try to think, knowing that soon, thinking will again be out of my reach. What is happening to me? Who is this powerful man, this wet dream of a wet dream, this door-to-door traveling sex god?

I twist my head and look back at him, catching him in a moment of pre-occupation. I see that he is again flickering in and out of focus, his face blurring and seeming to be two faces at once. As the flicker slows I see that he is spending half his time in human form, the other half in the all too familiar alien form, the big-eyed white oval, reported by so many.

I wonder where he parked his flying saucer.


The steep twisting road is dark and dangerously slick in the rain. The headlights don't seem to be doing much to help Laverne Desilva see.

Laverne is pissed off. Driving her car down the deserted mountain road she remembers the awful things Mr. Goddard said to her. Hurtful things, mean things, embarrassingly true things. Well maybe I am a poor secretary; maybe I did stretch the truth a little when I said I could type. But that didn't mean he could treat me the way he did. Did it? It certainly didn't give him the right to invite me up to his mountain cabin for a party, and then when I got there tell me that I was going to be the only guest! The nerve of the man! She smiles at the memory of slapping his face and storming out.

Behind and above her speeding car, invisible in the driving rain, a huge saucer-shaped ship follows her down the mountain road.

Coming around a sharp curve, she sees something going on up ahead; lots of red and blue flashing lights and several flares lying burning on the pavement. She gets her car stopped and then eases up closer to see what is going on. In the rain it is hard to see much, but it looks like an accident scene. She cannot see a safe way forward so she stops her car and waits for someone to direct her.

With the touch of a button, the lights and flares of the accident scene simply cease to be. She is still sitting there, stunned by the surprise, when the flying saucer comes over and takes her away. She screams and screams but there is no one to hear as the tractor beam draws her car up into the cargo bay of the giant hovering spaceship.

She fights the Octoid when it comes to get her out of the car, but she has no chance against its sinuous strength. She locks her car doors, but with a ripping of tortured steel it simply removes the Honda's roof with its bare tentacles. She is lifted out of the seat and held up in a wide spread eagle by four of the monster's eight snake-like arms. She feels the tremendous strength of the Octoid's grip on her limbs and knows that it can do with her as it pleases.

She screams anew when the monster begins use two of its remaining tentacles to rip away her clothing, first her red party dress then even her underwear. When she is reduced to nothing but her high-heeled shoes, it produces the shiny black bustier/arm binder. When this is on and all its buckles are tightened, it is as if she has no arms, as if someone has plans for her breasts, for they are left exposed like a pair of perfect melons on a greengrocer's cart.


Two more straps around her ankles and knees and she is ready to be put away. Wrapping her tender, helpless, naked body in spike covered coils of sinuous power; the Octoid picks her up and carries her down a deserted passage, where it places her, in a not ungentle way, and with a strangely intimate caress between her legs, within a small metal walled cell. When the door closes she is left alone in the dark, sobbing and struggling within her bondage.

Outside the door, "Mr. Goddard" allows his shape to morph back to the energy saving chalk white elongated humanoid with the enormous eyes, and he chuckles, heading up to the control room. This one is going to get me back to Trantor for sure. This one and the billions more like her on Earth are my ticket to power.

Laverne struggles alone in the darkness. She is simply a package. Her arms and legs have been rendered useless; her nude body presented for whatever evil things the alien monster might care to do. She is further terrified by the monster's last lingering caress, the one she can still feel, there between her legs, where it felt so . . . What? Stimulating? Exciting? Sexy?

The horror of that train of thought makes her begin fighting her bondage with new energy, rolling around on the deck and kicking her legs against their restraint straps even though she knows they are far too strong for her to ever break free. As she struggles, her body becomes moist with her sweat and pheromones, and in the super dry air of the cell this moistness evaporates, cooling her skin and forming a cloud of invisible, pheromone laden molecules floating above her, where it is being sucked into a small grill. Around her, the ship hums, heading out into deep space so fast that soon light itself will be left behind.

For all her effort, she has managed to get herself no closer to freedom; in fact, the exact opposite is the case. Powered by the sex pheromones her body has put out during her struggles, the giant spacecraft is now well on its way to Titan, the alien's training and forward supply base. Goddard smiles in the control room, watching Laverne's struggles on infrared TV, watching as his ship's fuel tank fills itself with her precious scent. Soon the autopilot will need to flip the ship and begin slowing. Because he is in a hurry, the slowing thrust will be twice as hard and half as long as the one-G acceleration he's kept to coming out from earth.

He has news for the Harvest Counsel. His news is that the most valuable natural resource known to his civilization is now ripe for exploitation. The breeding plan on Sol 3 is at last complete, the fuel units that think of themselves as human beings are at last ready to be harvested.

Watching the clock, Goddard sees that it is time for a little more tank stirring. So he heads back down to the slave cells. There, he morphs into human shape but with several slight and important alterations. To get the most out of a fuel unit, you have to understand the right buttons to push, he thinks as he unseals the cell door.

When the thrust cuts off, right on schedule, Goddard opens the door and dives in, giving Laverne only a light-blinded momentary look at his naked, crimson colored body before the door closes again, cutting off all light. It is exactly enough. The sight of a crimson colored, horned and tailed devil floating into her cell, sporting a ten-inch cock, is more than enough to 'stir' this fuel cell. Having the vertigo of sudden weightlessness and the feel of hot hands gripping her floating, defenseless body, caressing her, inciting her, exciting her, makes Lavern want something she does not want. His skin feels hot to touch, his lips burning as he suckles her out-thrust nipples, his forked tongue electric as it licks her dripping slit. Then, pulling her back against his hot phallus, spearing her creaming vulva with his burning stiffness, driving it deep into her body, he begins to fuck her, slowly, gently, passionately. The feel of his hot hands, one on her groin, fingers massaging her clit, the other on her breasts, squeezing, fingering her nipples, is enough to milk the very last precious molecule of Lavern's pheromones from her convulsing body. His hot phallus stretching her pussy, his hot lips and forked tongue kissing and licking the nape of her neck, only make her enjoy it more. For twenty glorious minutes Lavern is forced to experience passion so intense she becomes glad she is in restraints. She feels she needs the tight straps to keep her from bursting into a million bright shining pieces of passion.

When his task is complete Lavern is as wrung out as a mop, floating limp, uncaring, filled with the contentment of the well and recently fucked. She finds herself smiling like the Mona Lisa. The thrust slowly returns, pinning Laverne to the deck as if a huge hand were pressing her down and holding her there. Soon she is hardly able to breathe under the relentless acceleration. Goddard stands up, as if two Gs are nothing, and leaves the cell, still in his Devil morph.

Lavern is left, pinned to the cell's deck in the darkness, her body still helpless in the tight bondage. She is gasping for air, pressed flat by the acceleration and freshly fucked in mind and body. She finds herself hopelessly in lust with her abductors, at least the ones she's met so far. All her life she's felt the secret desire to be someone's sex object. To be the fly in the spider's web, the princess in the pokey, the maiden in distress. All her life she's kept the desire hidden, under tight control. All her life until she met Mr. Goddard, that is. Now she can at last let go of that control, she can let what will happen, happen. She smiles in the darkness, thinking about her plight.

At that moment, two decks up, Goddard is laying back into his acceleration chair, beginning to morph back to his normal shape, conserving his energy and assuming the vocal cords needed to speak his native tongue. He begins dictating his report:

"Report from Petty Officer Third Class Goddard. On day 220 of orbit 5,759, I completed my work. The breeding program to provide a new source of class A fuel units has been successful beyond our wildest dreams. The unit that is, at this moment, powering my craft is providing me enough fuel to service the entire invasion fleet, so rich is she in the needed molecules. There are billions more just like her on Earth. The place is teaming with more than five billion self-replicating class A fuel units and doubling its population every twenty orbits. This means a harvest of ten million units an orbit for at least a hundred orbits until the projected collapse of the planet's ecosystem.

"Power to the Empire!"

Checking the infrared TV monitor, Goddard chuckles to see how content is his fuel unit. Bred for slavery, humans are happiest when they have no decisions to make. Why else do they join mobs, follow leaders, go to war and worship volcano gods who engage in parlor magic?

Human history is the story of warfare. The mass rape that always follows victory is the tool that agent Goddard used to create his genetic and social masterpiece. The tribe of peaceful, naked apes he'd found wandering the plains of Africa almost sixty thousand orbits ago will now produce enough fuel units to power this entire sector of the Empire. His reward will be promotion to first class at least, perhaps even Chief Petty Officer.

Seeing that the ship is still an hour from fetching Titan, Goddard morphs himself some strength, gets up out of the acceleration chair and goes down to join his fuel unit for a little more stirring. No sense in not topping off his tank. It has been his experience that frequently stirred fuel cells provide much richer fuel than ones who are allowed too much time to worry. Besides, she is a really good piece of ass.

Part Three HARVEST

Straining and ready, stretched open wide
Helpless young woman, end of the ride
Tight ropes on her arms
Displaying her charms
Screaming in terror, can't be denied

Monsters attending, sharpen the blade
The fatal mistake, our girl has made
A walk in the park
Our girl in the dark
Muggers humongous, the slaver trade

Moon shadow flitting, leather wings flap
No chance to escape, the netting trap
The double teaming
The unheard screaming
Stripped of her clothing, the sudden nap

Waking in traction, deep underground
The city above her, can't hear a sound
The heat of the fire
Awaken desire
Slave girl to harvest, sold by the pound


Alien slavers, harvest of scent
Power for Empire, a little bent
She's taken away
Instincts betray
Terror brings passion, from heaven sent

Dripping with honey, tremble and twitch
The blindfold and gag, mumble and bitch
Nipples in cones
Making no bones
Pheromones sheening, feeling the itch

Gathering power, above and below
Molecules needed, Empire ya'know
Terror cums calling
Passion appalling
Sniffle jerk straining, ready to blow

Princess of passion, held in the clutch
Hands hard and knowing, a little much
Tickle clit toying
Pussy drip cloying
Pheromone laden, wet to the touch


"Be happy relax." Fangs dripping slime
Horny and honking, hanging and blind
Terror compounded
Fugitive hounded
Passion and panic, reason no rhyme

Feather touch tickle, under the arm
Pointed sharp pricking, raise the alarm
Tickle clit licking
Her senses tricking
Tickle clit flicking, doing no harm

Passion cums rushing, over the top
Bucking and screaming, ever so hot
The harvest of fuel
The size of a mule
Fucking and flapping, hitting the spot

Straining and ready, stretched open wide
Helpless young woman, two cocks to ride
Tight ropes on her arms
Displaying her charms
Screaming in passion, can't be denied

Part Four CASKET

The shipping case provides for Annie's needs. It keeps her warm. Its titanium case and padding protects her from harm. The needles in her upper arm provide her blood with oxygen, nutrients and waste removal. She suspects she can be kept like this for years, helpless to move, held like a corpse in a casket by the wrist, ankle and throat restraints. She is doing her level best to find a way out of her present comfort and safety but unfortunately she isn't getting too far in her efforts. She is, never the less, giving it her all.

As Annie struggles to pull her wrists out of the tight bands that hold them down and to the sides of the case, she tries to remember how she got into this predicament. She'd gone out, looking for UFO's, trying to see for herselfr if the rumors were true. The rumors had it that there was an awful lot of new activity at site 51. She'd dressed in desert camies, taken her dirt bike, and come in over the ridge to the west, crossing ground that no-one thought passable, thus avoiding most of the fences and alarms.

She'd gotten in close, too close.

Too bad she hadn't gotten out again.

She'd moved in the last five miles at night and on foot, using her night vision goggles and Army Ranger training to stay under cover and observe everything going on around her. She detected and defeated three alarm system triggers before missing the one that caused her capture. She'd gotten close enough to get good clear low light video of several aliens, working on the inner perimeter fence. Then she looked up to see a pair of twin uniformed thugs standing over her, a pair of handcuffs hanging open in the right one's hand.

She'd kicked at the side of a knee, in a blow that would cripple any human, only to have her foot bounce off its target, feeling as if she'd kicked a bridge abutment. When the other one bent down to grip her wrist, she drove the heel of her clenched hand up into his nose, hoping to kill him with his own nose cartilage, only to find his face as hard and unyielding as Mount Rushmore. Then she was helpless, her suddenly bruised hands and feet locked in chains. She was lifted to a shoulder and taken inside the fence, her protests unheard, and her struggles useless against her captor's rock hard body and massive strength.

Her cell was a steel shipping container, buried deep under the desert floor. She was brought in by her two captors, who, once they were in the light, she saw were identical twins. She was collared to a hanging chain and in seconds stripped naked, her clothing becoming a pile of cut away rags in less time than she would have thought possible. Then her ankles were released from their shackles and she was left alone, her hands still chained together behind her back. Fighting the pull of the collar, she looked down enough to see she'd been tethered directly over a drain in the cell floor. She could hear other prisoners, both male and female, down the passage, could tell that some were being raped, others tortured. She wished they hadn't left her hands in the cuffs, but was afraid to know why they'd removed her leg irons.

Several long hours passed, made longer by the sights and sounds of the Alien slave-processing center. The passageway outside her cell was full of guards; all seeming clones of the two who'd brought her in. Some were busy, hurrying naked male and female prisoners back and forth down the underground passage. Others seemed to have nothing to do but stand outside her cell and watch her struggle with the chain attached to her collar. She needed to pee; it was as simple as that. She held on as long as she could, but before it got too uncomfortable she spread her legs wide and let go, splattering the drain with her yellow stream. As if it were the signal for which they'd been waiting, two of the watching guards opened the barred cell door and came in, ignoring her embarrassment as they released her from the tethering chain.


Strapping her to a gurney and taking her down long passages of occupied holding cells, they brought her to a kind of laboratory. Waiting for her in a mask and lab coat was the guy she would always remember as the "Mad Doctor". He was the old, apparently human creep who'd used the orgasm machine on her.

Clamped down at throat and wrists, she was forced to lie there and watch as he clamped the infuser onto her upper arm. Seconds later she felt the prick of the twin needles as they automatically inserted themselves, one into each vein and artery of her upper arm. She watched as the clear liquid flowed down the tube and into her blood stream. She felt the rush of her mind and body relaxing under the effects of the drugs.

Satisfied she was ready; he attached her ankles up on each side of her head and brought the orgasimizer down to insert the probes. She didn't remember much about the next several hours, only distorted memories of pleasures so intense she thought she would die. In the end she blacked out.

Contained in the almost two fluid ounces of pheromones extracted from her was enough fuel to power North America for ten years. It would power Trantor, the Imperial Palace, for about two hours.

When she woke up she was back in her cell, lying on a pad, her hands once again cuffed together behind her back. The infuser remained clamped on her upper arm, but with the feed tube disconnected and the needles now withdrawn from her flesh. There was nothing she could do except wait for them to come back.

They didn't come right away. First they let her get good and thirsty, then they brought a device very much like a watering bottle for a hamster. Only this bottle was equipped with a human cock-shaped nipple. After they'd clamped it to the bars they'd told her how she would have to press her lips tight around the base of the plastic cock's shaft and suck hard to get the water. She'd listened and understood but decided she wasn't that thirsty just yet.

They'd simply waited, lounging around outside the bars, letting time force her to do what she'd sworn she would never do. Needing water but too proud to kneel and drink from the cock-shaped nipple, Annie stayed away from it for several more hours. In the end she gave in, as all fuel units do. She went over to the cock where it hung on the bars, knelt and began to take it into her lips. She rebelled again when she felt that the plastic cock was warm like human flesh, but after a few minutes her thirst drove her to again take it into her mouth and begin sucking. The first drops of water she'd had since her arrest tasted so good to her that she didn't at first notice how the cock was swelling within her mouth, quickly growing past the size possible to extract from behind her teeth. Suddenly she was trapped, her mouth stretched wide, filled and held by the swelling cock. She could not escape her position, kneeling at the bars, unable to even protest as the guards came and toyed with her, forcing several orgasms from her in exchange for the sugar water flowing down her throat. When they were finished with her she was as wrung out as she'd been by the orgasimizer. Finally, she was let free of the cock shaped nipple and allowed to rest, her hands still locked in the cuffs behind her back.

On the fourth day, two guards came into her cell, armed with restraints and some other nasty surprises. Her collar was again attached to the hanging chain then she had her ankles spread out wide by two more chains attached to the cell's sides. The fourth chain attaching her wrists back and down to the cell's floor completed her restraints.

She was positioned directly over the drain, stretched in four directions. One of the guards knelt before her and began to lick, his tongue feeling rough like a cat's against her sex. The other concentrated on her breasts, licking and sucking her nipples into twin, achingly hard points of pleasure.

She bucked her hips, trying to hurt the one down there, only to find his face still as hard as stone. The tongue only grew longer, thicker, more intrusive and with sharper barbs. She could not fight, could not escape. She began to orgasm.

Without warning the second guard popped a huge, well-greased, wedge-shaped butt plug up into her anus, corking her completely. And if that weren't enough, the one in front quit licking her just long enough to use a tiny spring clamp to clip her urethra closed.

Then, her throat still attached up to the hanging chain, she was force-fed a dose of salts and about six quarts of water. Three days empty, her stomach was quickly stretched to the point of bursting. She could not pass the pain, her anus being corked, her pee hole clamped closed. She could not move from her four way stretch. She could do nothing except stand there, screaming in helpless suffering as they toyed with her quivering body, in the end making her come again and again, their huge barbed cocks never seeming to get soft, their rough surfaced cat tongues always ready to taste her flowing wetness. Finally, as she was beginning to flag they pulled the cork and removed the clip at the same instant, jumping back to avoid the splash.

Her stomach, bowels and bladder completely flushed out, the drain in the cell's floor carrying away her waste, she was nearly ready. The guards then hosed her down, soaped her up, rinsed and dried her off. They said nothing to her, reacted to nothing she said or did. It was as if they were robots. Robots with attitude to be sure, but robots just the same. Useless behind her back, her hands clenched and tugged at her cuffs.

Then a third guard came down the passageway, pushing a shipping container along in front of him. Made of titanium, the container was designed to transport fuel units with complete security. When it opened she saw that it was padded inside, padded to exactly fit a woman of her measurements. She screamed in panic and kicked at the leg irons. The guards sniffed the air as if smelling money and went on with the task of packing a fuel unit for interstellar transport. During processing they'd discovered that this fuel unit's pheromone production was completely off the scale. She was, therefore, on her way to meet her Emperor.

When the lid closed Annie was left in complete darkness. She found it hard to breathe, the panic gripping her chest like a fist. The needle in her arm injected sleep, and she slept. Other drugs shut down other functions of her body, letting her lungs, kidneys, liver, ovaries and GI track take a holiday. Every third day, the case let Annie partially wake up, induced her to struggle enough to exercise her muscles, and then puts her back to sleep. She has no way of telling how long these "days" are lasting, no way to even remember how many "days" have passed.

Two decks above, Chief Petty Officer Goddard, morphed as the Octoid, toys with his fuel unit named Laverne, making her come again and again, fucking his way across the void between the stars. The Harvest Council has given him the honor of delivering the 128 fuel units in his ship's hold. The destination for his cargo is Trantor, the Imperial Planet. If he plays his cards right, he might even get a Second Lieutenant’s Commission out of this.


Carved from a single, moon-sized diamond (the remains of an exploded gas giant) the Imperial Palace is the first wonder of the galaxy. More a space ship than a planet, Trantor is powered by unbelievable quantities of fuel. From all vectors fuel units flow toward Trantor, supplying the Emperor and his court with all their "needs".

Goddard watches the instruments, monitoring his cargo of class A fuel units. Still a month out of Trantor, Goddard has some "work" to do. The entire shipment is in the process of being re-activated. It is Goddard's happy task to give each and every one of his Emperor's newest fuel units their first "stirring" in two years. And he is just the alien for the job. He draws deeply from the reserves of energy he has harvested from the now exhausted Lavern and begins the process of splitting his body down the middle. Then, a few minutes later, when there are two Goddards, they begin to split into four and a few minutes after that the four become eight and then 16 and 32 and 64 and finally 128 identical Goddards standing in a row. It is one of his favorite tricks, and for the last six thousand years he has sorely missed the rush of channeling that kind of power.

Each of the new Goddards has the same memories and resources, plus telepathic contact with each other one. Yet each is an individual, capable of carrying on alone. They simultaneously chuckle at the thought of the risks and limitations inherent in sexual reproduction, and begin to morph into various, mostly humanoid shapes. Male, female, young, old, tall, short, dark, light, handsome, ugly, well formed and misshapen, each one perfectly suited to the innermost fantasies of his chosen fuel unit.

Annie has been awake for about six hours at this point. She has, as usual, exhausted herself trying to escape the restraints. Suddenly she realizes she needs to pee, something she has not needed since being closed inside the case, an unknowable time ago. She wonders if something is wrong, wonders if her container is failing. She begins to fight her restraints with renewed purpose, gaining nothing except muscle tone.

Without warning, the case lid opens, blinding her with bright lights and deafening her with the first sounds she has heard since the lid was closed down on her, so long ago. After a few moments her eyes adjust to the light and she sees the same type of clone guard as the ones who packed her away. She watches as he removes the tube from the infuser on her arm and releases her restraints, helping her up out of the shaped padding. It is the first time since her arrest that Annie is free of all restraints. She stands there beside the casket, weaving on her feet, feeling light headed from the unaccustomed movement. She suspects what is about to be done to her and wants no part of it.

Gathering her strength for an escape attempt, she is delighted to find that her body is strong, much better conditioned now than it has been since her days in the Army. She's surprised to notice that her lungs are working again, though she does not remember taking the first breath. She also realizes that she is ravenous. She eyes the door of the cell, trying not to look like a mouse eying its escape hole. It is closed and sealed but she thinks she sees how to get it open. What might be on the other side of that door is a complete mystery to her but she feels she must at least try to escape.

As if reading her mind, the guard says. "Better not go running anywhere. Some parts of the ship are not suitable for your species."

SHIP!?!?!? Annie thinks.

Goddard watches her face, judging her reaction to the news that she is far beyond the point of breaking out of Area 51 and running home to safety. This is a crucial point in the training of a fuel unit. It is like harvesting grapes; the quick pinch that cuts the fruit from the vine is the same as the crashing knowledge that escape is now truly impossible.

"Why are you doing these things?" Annie says, rubbing the callous-covered skin on her wrists, still eying the hatch.

Goddard smiles as he answers, "For the same reason that you humans exploit livestock back on your planet. We do it because we can."

Annie fakes a grab at a heavy looking tool, getting him moving in the wrong direction, and then lunges for the hatch.

Before she gets half way there, something grips her around her slim waist and lifts her off her feet. Struggling against the python grip of an Octoid's tentacle, Annie glances back over her shoulder, screams and redoubles her efforts to break free.

The Octoid is always a shock the first time a fuel unit sees it. Three eyes, eight spike covered tentacles, its strength so overwhelming that struggle is utterly useless; the Octoid is Goddard's favorite morph when stirring unrestrained fuel units.

The guard morph has its uses as well, triggering the fuel unit's tendency to obey authority. But to protect himself from injury during the struggles of an unrestrained fuel unit, it is necessary that he harden that body, thus losing some of the pleasure he receives through the more pliable flesh of the Octoid. The overwhelming strength of the Octoid is very useful, as are the overwhelming number of arms it gives him. Morphed as a human he has only two hands, as the Octoid he has eight.

Soon Annie hangs suspended, her wrists and ankles held wide, her body naked and vulnerable. Morphing out of the tip of one of the Octoid's tentacles is an enormous, slime covered, human shaped, cock. Annie is being gripped by four tentacles, caressed by two more and positioned in the air, spread wide and ready to be impaled by the phallus. Her legs stretched so wide she feels like a wishbone, she watches the cock coming toward her and knows she cannot escape her fate. There is nothing she can do to change anything. She wonders if she will know as much pleasure now, as she did back in Area 51.

She feels the Octoid's slime covered penis inserting itself between her already crimson labia. She feels her sex being wedged open wide, her labia stretching tight around the monster's throbbing phallus. She feels her body's blooming excitement, her passion rising within her like a tidal wave. She squeezes down on him, wondering if their union feels as wonderful to him as it does to her. He responds by caressing her breasts with one tentacle and swatting her ass with another, now morphed into a paddle shape. She begins coming, screaming in passion as the phallus thunders in and out of her convulsing, helpless body.

"The Emperor is going to like this one", the Goddard thinks, reporting telepathically to his 127 clones, each of who is stirring one of the other fuel units.


Annie is beyond passion. She is being pleasured so intensely she is afraid she will lose her mind. She is stretched in mid air, his horse cock sized tentacle slowly stroking in and out of her stretched vulva, other tentacles caressing her, stimulating her, driving her into a state of sexual subspace where he can harvest the fuel from her convulsing body. After all, arriving at Trantor and not having gotten his charges primed for the Emperor would mean the end of his ambitions. He knows that the Emperor wants trained, well proven sex slaves, not dangerous, untested ones.

Later, after all 128 fuel units are exhausted and content; Goddard allows his 128 bodies the pleasure of re-incorporation. It is as close as he ever gets to sexual passion.

* * *

Annie is taking a shower in her cell. She's just about come to believe that Goddard is lying to her as to what is outside her cell door. In the thirty sleep cycles since being released from the shipping container she has come to suspect they aren't in a ship after all. Ships move, this place feels as steady as a planet. Since her awakening she has been in a constant, unchanging, one gravity field. No bumps, no shimmers, nothing, exactly as if she were still in a cell in Area 51.

That means if I can somehow escape this cell, I might be able to get back to Berkeley. The world outside needs to know what is happening here, she thinks, soaping her vulva, enjoying the feeling as much as getting herself clean. It has been two days since her last stirring, two days of waiting. To tell the truth, she's beginning to consider masturbation.

Human beings are only human. Sexual pleasure demands more of the same. And it makes this demand at a level that does not much respond to logic. Since her arrest, Annie has gotten well used to the cycle of her stirrings. Every few days she finds herself getting horny in anticipation, like one of Pavlov's dogs. She has come to realize that however frightening Goddard might look and act, he has never actually hurt her. In fact, the more frightened she becomes, the more intense is her pleasure. She fought these feelings at first, until she came to know how useless it was to fight, how fantastic a Master is the alien, how natural a slave is she. She now accepts her fate, almost completely enslaved by her own genetic nature.

I think it’s the way he comes for me. It's like I'm a chore he's doing, a cow he's milking. Sometimes I'm almost coming even before he touches me. Other times he makes me wait, helpless and horny, begging for his pleasure. He seems to be reading my mind, playing out my innermost desires, my hidden submissive needs. I liked that morph he used the last time; the handsome, charming pirate with the big stiff cock. He’s my oldest friend, that one. I've been dreaming of him for as long as I can remember.

Then, suddenly, the gravity cuts off, destroying her theory and leaving her floating weightless in a cloud of water droplets. The Octoid comes, removes her from her shower, dries her with a towel, and sets off with her down the ship's passages. Moving with eight-legged ease through the weightless ship, he brings her to what she assumes is the Captain's stateroom. Carried in the python tight grip of two of his tentacles, it does not matter that she wears no other restraints. She is not going anywhere he does not intend.

As they enter the stateroom a portion of the gravity returns, the ship having successfully docked itself. The gravity is not that of Earth, of course; rather the one-tenth G of their new home, the moon sized planet/palace of Trantor.

Standing bolted to the deck in the center of the spacious cabin is a bottomless chair, fitted with restraint straps at ankles, knees, thighs, waist, wrists, elbows and throat. Annie begins to struggle, suspecting what her immediate future has in store for her. Goddard doesn't even take notice of her efforts, concentrating instead on the task of fastening her nude body into the chair. Soon accomplished, he morphs into his old favorite, the Old Testament Patriarch God of Moses and begins to expertly apply makeup to her face, nipples and labia. That done, he stands behind her, watching her eyes in the mirror, using a hair brush as a lover would, caressing her long blond hair into a flowing mass of healthy, silky, shine.

She likes the feel of his touch. She says, "Tell me something about this Emperor of ours."

Goddard chuckles, lays aside the brush and begins to morph away his flowing God robes, revealing a body straight out of her wet dreams. "Well, he's a lot like me, a sexy devil with lots of nice surprises." He continues brushing her hair, his big organ becoming more erect with every passing moment. "You'll love him, all the fuel units do." He brushes on, not saying anything further for several minutes. Then, "It's the Empress that you have to watch out for.”


Planet of Trantor, fantasy land
Fuel for the squeezing, the Master plan

The Empress Royal, alien bitch
The Queen of the Ball, powerful witch

An ugly old crone, dugs hanging down
Twenty young women, banging around

Each one is helpless, can only feel
Twin pumping dildos, Hell of a deal

The crone is growing, straightening spine
Wrinkles disappear, body divine

Mistress of Heaven, strutting so proud
Twenty whorepower, their screaming loud

Life force in rivers, pumping station
Life force delivered, alien nation


Part Seven EMPEROR

Annie sits on her heels, she has few other options. Her arms have been lashed together behind her back at elbows and wrists. Her ring-pierced labia have been attached to her large toes by a very short length of cord. She is, therefore, going exactly nowhere. The Emperor has been cruel to her in the last several minutes, using a thin magic wand of whistling hardwood to bring her nipples up in welt covered erection. She knows he plans to do worse before he is finished.

Despite the burning pain in her nipples, she is mostly content as she awaits his pleasure. Already deep in her subspace, she accepts the rightness of the alien predation on her libido. She accepts the harvesting of her passion. She feels that she has at long last gone to Heaven, at long last discovered her place, at long last come to know the answer to the Big Question. She knows why she was born and what her creator wants from her. She is fulfilled.

Again the rod strikes her out-thrust nipples, driving another spike of pain into her breasts. And pain it is, pure and simple, but to her mind it feels like the kiss of a lover's lips, the lapping of a lover's tongue on her swollen, passion tightened points of pleasure. She cries out, her body sheening with her pheromones, her sex dripping, soaking the floor beneath her quivering, defenseless body.


Goddard told her she would fall in love with the Emperor. She didn't believe it possible. Now she sits, helpless and in intense pain, waiting for the gift of another blow to her nipples, her entire body aching with desire for him. Between her thighs, the cord stretches her ring pierced labia downward, attaching them to her large toes, trapping her here in the middle of the throne room floor. The Emperor squats beside her, his perfect maleness filling her with desire, his handsome face turning her on fully as much as his perfect body. He touches her out-thrust nipples, making her suck air as the pain again morphs into intense pleasure. Her body sheens with the precious molecules that feed him. She strains against the cord on her labia, stretching her own flesh, wanting him to take her, to fill her with his hard beauty and give her the passion she needs as much as he needs her pheromones.

He only continues to caress her bruised nipples, making her writhe in helpless desire, milking her, harvesting her. It is only right that he do so.

* * *

On a residential level far below the Emperor's domain, Laverne hangs suspended in her cell. Goddard has been allowing her to rest, letting her body recover from the strain of the trip out from Earth. After all, the power needed to cross the galaxy had been milked from her helpless body. Now, fully a month since her last stirring, she is once again recharged and ready to produce fuel for her favorite alien.

She smiles with a kind of pride as she struggles in the restraints, wishing she could reach the spot between her legs that itches so insistently. But with her hands and feet stretched to the four corners of the cell she has little chance to do that. She is glad there is only a tenth of Earth gravity. Under full gravity this position would be murder. She hangs spread-eagled, face up and helpless, waiting for her Master, open, ready and eager.

Goddard watches her from below, his body again morphed as the Octoid, Laverne's favorite, enjoying his slave's sexual readiness. He wishes he could have kept Annie for himself as well, but is happy with his Emperor's reward. Promotion from Petty Officer third class to First Lieutenant in only 6000 Earth years is unheard of upward mobility in the Alien Empire. It is the quality of his product that makes it all possible. Never before has a crop of such perfect fuel units been harvested. It has been determined that his naked-ape fuel units provide the Empire with the most concentrated fuel ever developed.

He morphs several special implements onto the tips of his tentacles and goes to work, content that his slave girl is ready to provide for his needs. And they all live happily ever after.

Part Eight Alien Abduction Zoey Miller was getting sleepy, which was only understandable as she had been behind the wheel for nearly twenty straight hours now. She had the window cracked just enough to keep the air inside the car cool and fresh but it wasn’t helping all that much. She’d stopped and filled her thermos with hot coffee in Wendover hours ago but now it was empty again and soon she was going to have to stop somewhere and get some more.

She simply didn’t have either enough time or money to stop and sleep. She had to be in LA by ten AM or this trip would have been wasted. She needed this job, needed it bad. She had hocked her grandmother’s wedding rings to get the money for gas and if she failed to get there on time, failed to get the job; they would be lost to her forever. But then again, falling asleep at the wheel and going off the road held few attractions either.

She was still six hours short of her destination and time seemed to be racing by. She wanted the job in LA more than any job she’d ever tried to get. It was her big chance to break into movies and she knew that if she were late for her appointment the chance would be gone.

She jerked awake as her tires hit the rumble strip on the left side of the two-lane road and realized she was going to have to do something to wake up. If there had been an oncoming car or truck she would be dead now. Up ahead she saw one of the blue rest stop signs and came to a decision; she would stop and take a pee then walk around until she was awake enough to travel on. The rest stop was one of the primitives that Nevada maintains on its secondary roads. No lights, no running water, no flush toilets and no other cars or trucks at this hour either.

Finding her pepper spray, she looked around and decided to take the chance. Getting out of her car she walked to the porta-potties which stood in a line next to the graded gravel parking lot. As she opened the flimsy plastic door she was hit with a stench unlike any she’d ever experienced before. Checking the others, she found the same smell in them as well. It did not smell like human waste at all but like some new and disagreeable disinfectant gone bad in the desert heat. Needing to get rid of the coffee she’d drunk, she held her nose and entered, leaving the door propped open with a rock to let in some breathable air. After all, there was no one here to see anything.

She was sitting on the seat, looking out across the starlit desert landscape when suddenly the rest stop was lit up by a blinding spotlight from above. It was as if someone had turned on the sun. There was no sound except the sound of her heart pounding against her ribcage. She jumped up and was pulling up her panties when the porta potty door slammed shut, crushing the rock she’d used to prop it open. How could a flimsy plastic door crush a rock like that? she thought. Then, when she tried to open the door she found it stuck, and as unyielding as the door on a bank vault.

Suddenly, she felt as if she were on an elevator going up. She screamed and hammered on the door to no avail. When the gas started hissing in through the vents she tried to hold her breath but it was already too late.

When she came back to awareness she was lying face up on a table, naked, collared, gagged and tightly restrained. Her elbows were strapped together in the middle of her back; her wrists were fixed to a strong belt, one on each side of her waist. Her ankles were closely linked in a short hobble that restricted her kicks to barely three inches.

Standing over her were several naked aliens, each only about five feet tall, but all sporting oversized erections the size a pony would be proud of. She struggled to get up but quickly discovered herself attached to the table at collar and ankles.

One of the naked aliens reached out and gently caressed one of her big up-thrust breasts, making her strain against her restraints in an effort to escape. He said, in a voice that sounded as if he were down a well, “Do not bother to fight us, Earthling, we have you under our complete control.” He then attached a short cable to her nipples with a pair of painful spring clamps. “These are to remind you of our power over you. The longer you wear them the more you will learn to accept what we will be doing to you.”

There were several questions she wanted to ask these strange looking aliens but the gag reduced her words to inarticulate humming.

The one who’d spoken before said, “Your time with us will be short, intense and instructive. When we take you back to your car you will find that no time will have passed. You will not be permanently harmed and you will be barely aware of having been our guest.” Another of the aliens said something in a language unlike any she had ever heard before and the others made a series of short barking noises that might have been laughter.

The one who’d spoken English continued to caress her nipple clipped breasts, making the clips hurt more with each passing second. Lying on her pinioned elbows her big boobies were stuck out like an offering. Another of the aliens reached out and placed something against her sex, something cold and hurtful that seemed to suck her tender nubbin right inside its toothy interior. She felt her tender woman flesh swelling and throbbing within its grip, quickly becoming the center of her panic driven world.

A third alien then unhooked her ankle restraints from the foot of the table and, with surprising strength for someone so slim, pulled her legs up and over so that she was folded in two, before attaching them down to the collar under her chin. This left her butt exposed as it had never been before.

She watched in growing panic as he greased up an anal plug that was far too large to go into the place he was intending to put it. And then she screamed in agony as it was slowly shoved deep into her rectum, stretching her poor pooper nearly to the point of rupture before popping inside to be gripped by her sphincter. She realized that she would never be able to push it out again on her own. It filled her and held her and there was nothing she could do to escape its painful presence.

This left only her pussy, unfilled, unmolested and, worst of all, un-defended.

They let her ankles loose from her collar and then released her collar from the head of the table. Helping her to her feet, they steadied her for a few seconds then began to lead her up through their huge ship.


Closely hobbled, she had to struggle to keep up. Sticking out from her groin the vacuum thingy on her clitoris bobbled and bounced, stimulating her with every short step she was forced to take. Likewise the clips on her nipples continually reminded her of their presence, their purpose. As they passed through the ship she saw dozens of the diminutive aliens, all completely naked, all hugely hung though not erect like her escorts.

At the top of a long ramp there was a door. Inside this door was a large earthling bedroom decorated in, of all things, K-Mart kitsch with a huge four-poster bed, Martha Stewart bed linens, drapes and rugs. Standing beside the bed was a large naked man, looking exactly like Paul Newman looked in Cool Hand Luke.

“Ah, here you are,” said the Newman clone. “I have been waiting for you.”

Zoey watched as the man’s organ stirred and began to rise to the occasion. He was hung like a mule and, in a few seconds, fully ready for the task at hand. Her leash was presented to this Adonis who introduced himself even as he pulled her up against his warm naked body. “I am Z*#f(r*t, the Captain of this craft, and you will be my consort for a while.” He whispered into her ear as his hands gripped her bottom and pulled her bare tummy tight against his throbbing organ. "You will not be harmed, in fact you will be encouraged to enjoy what is about to happen to you. I certainly intend to enjoy it."

Zoey twisted around to a sound and caught a fleeting look at the escorts filing out of the cabin, leaving the two of them all alone. She struggled against her restraints, gaining nothing except self-respect.

He chuckled and reached up to cradle her big breast as he thumbed her clamped and super-sensitive nipple. “Resistance is futile my dear.” He whispered, kneeling to suckle the nipple into his mouth. After a long, intense moment he continued, “You are mine for as long as I want you and there is nothing you can do to change that.”

Zoey twisted free and hobbled away, knowing there was no escape but feeling she needed to try anyway. Instead of chasing her he went to the big bed and lay down, a tolerant smile on his handsome face and his organ looking like a banana shaped Washington monument. “The sooner you satisfy my needs the sooner you will be back in your world,” he said, watching her discover the door was locked. “You do not want to go out there my dear, the crewmen are a horny bunch and I am worried you might not survive the gang rape that would ensue.”

Zoey turned toward the Alien Captain and screamed her intention to resist him in every way he had left to her. Her gag absorbed her screams and robbed her of even that form of defiance. He sighed and rolled over to pick up something from the bedside table. Pressing a button on the device, Zoey was knocked down by a jolt of electricity inside her stretched colon. He watched her flop around on the floor for a few seconds then switched it off, saying, “Now do you understand my dear? Free choice is something you no longer have.”

Zoey painfully rolled over and began to struggle to her closely hobbled feet. She was still on her knees when he appeared before her, a small glass vial in his hand. Pulling a stopper out of the front of her gag he gripped her short red hair and bent her over backward so he could empty the contents of the vial into her propped open mouth. Then, as she sputtered with the unwanted liquid trickling down her throat, he forced his huge cock through the ring in her mouth and right down into her throat.

For a short time she fought him but suddenly a feeling of intense sexual need blossomed out from her belly, engulfing her in a kind of sexual fever that sapped her will and seemed to overwhelm her defenses.

The long thick cock in her windpipe felt like some kind of umbilical, connecting her to life itself, feeding her everything she needed, driving her libido to heights of passion she had never before known. The fact that her air supply was cut off did not matter to her as much as her need for more and more sexual stimulation.

The second time he pressed the button on his little remote she felt the jolt in her colon as the trigger to her first ever orgasm. She exploded into convulsions of purest pleasure, her hips thrusting in a dance of lust, making the vacuum device on her clitoris bounce and bobble with abandon. Her nipples, still gripped in their clamps, grew to twice their normal length, feeling as if they were being milked.

Suddenly, just before she passed out from lack of oxygen, the Captain pulled his huge cock out of her throat, picked her up by the strap around her elbows and the link between her ankles and carried her to the big bed. There, he laid her down on her side and used her leash to pull her ankles up under her chin, her knees spread by her still clamped breasts. Then, rolling her up onto her knees and face he positioned her there, leaving her well-plugged ass sticking up like an invitation to breed.

Kneeling behind her, he looked down at her swollen, crimson and dripping sex and said, “Are you sure you are ready my dear?” before touching the glistening tip of his organ to her wide-open pussy.

Zoey, aware of little outside her driving need for fulfillment, thrust herself back to impale herself on his big throbbing member, feeling it’s every vein and bump as purest pleasure. Then, gripping down with her cunt muscles, she began to try and milk him of his alien seed.

He gripped her elbow strap and rode her like a bucking bronco, his long and thick member plumbing her wet depths, driving wordless cries of unbearable passion from her propped open mouth, orgasmic convulsions from her helpless body.

Above the bed a small grill collected her pheromones which by an age old plan had been genetically engineered to provide his civilization with the power it needed. To him she was nothing but a first class filling station. Her sexual pheromones would power this giant spaceship all the way back to the home planet, Trantor, the diamond core remnant of an exploded gas giant.

Knowing none of this, Zoey was being fucked half to death but due in part to the drug she’d been given she was experiencing nothing but pure pleasure. His big cock was sliding in and out of her stretched vulva, driving rational thought from her mind, leaving her feeling filled and fulfilled, leaving her lust driven and orgasmic as never before. Finally there came a chime signifying the ship’s fuel tank was full. The Captain sighed and stopped what he was doing, leaving Zoey gasping in post-coital bliss, barely aware of anything outside the confines of her own head.

Morphing his own body back into his natural shape, the Captain walked to the door and opened it, revealing the same group of aliens who had brought her here. “Give her a half an earth day to recover then take her back to the time and place where we got her. She has served us well and we shall abide by the rules set down by the Emperor.”

Zoey awoke sitting on the seat inside the porta-potty. The rock still propped the door open, letting the cool clean smelling desert night air into the enclosure. Wow, what a weird dream, she thought, checking her watch and suddenly feeling better than she’d felt in years. Her watch said she had been asleep less than ten minutes but she felt fully alert now and no longer sleepy in the least. When she wiped herself she felt a slight soreness in her clit and found herself smiling, without quite knowing why.

200 miles above her the ship went to light speed and headed for home.


Hyperspace bypass, galaxies flee
Fuel Unit human, and worth her fee
I am the spaceman, big as a tree
Morphed as the Devil, oh my oh me

Shackled behind her, fresh whipped and sore
Pheromones flowing, from every pore
Unit unbroken, my favorite chore
Milking the maiden, fuel unit whore

Pheromones power, super-light speed
Human gene splicing, my race’s need
Fuel unit harvest, keeping the lead
Business or pleasure, my holy creed

“Come here and serve me,” my voice so low
“Come here and cuddle, your deadly foe”
Reading her needing, her dreams I know
Fresh whipped her bottom, eyes of a doe

Kneeling before me, her spinning head
Human genes altered, fuel units bread
Pushing her buttons, eyes burning red
Spiky big organ, she would have fled

Slowly approaching, pussy juice scent
Slave space she’s finding, needy and bent
Alien conquest, licking my vent
Fuel unit service, from heaven sent

Fuel unit service, pheromones fill
Handcuffed and helpless, filling the bill
Her cherry popping, the ringing till
Spiky dong sopping, her Master’s will

Sore bottom humping, and pushing hard
Spiky big phallus, a quarter yard
Gripping and ripping, coated in lard
Fuel unit frenzy, feathered and tarred

Morphing Paul Newman, cuddle and croon
Fuel unit squeezing, exhausted soon
Fuel tanks she’s filling, hyperspace boon
Hyperspace highway, be there by June




Saucer ship captives, taken aboard
Leaving Earth orbit, where it’s been moored
Handcuffs and shackles, a cosmic lord
His profit motive, his ship well whored


Outer space travel, distance immense
Endless flight boredom, his needs intense
Fuckerluck special, bringing them hence
Overload filling, their every sense


Mechanical thingies, stretching within
Held high and helpless, half sister twin
Hurting and spurting, his grimace grin
The laws of nature, rules of Darwin


Survive and prosper, winning the race
Propagate freely, leaving their trace
Held tight and screaming, a killing pace
Humanity fucked, warlords of space


A kind of cattle, breeding controlled
The gift of Goddard, The God of old
Fuel unit breeding, the plan so bold
Licky slit juices, deep in the hold


Harvest their drippings, power his ship
Pheromone folly, nipples to grip
Overlord Master, letting it rip
Tentacles twining, the oozing tip


Fucking and bucking, spurting his seed
Pussy clutch milking, libido freed
Pussy lick probing, feeding his need
Saucer fuel mining, increasing speed


Nipple lick gasping, slave honey flows
Dildo approaching, jizzum that glows
Morphin’ endorphins, helpless her pose
Passion peak screaming, the best of shows


Overlord visits, two hundred years
Leaving their seedlings, and human tears
Pussy teeth clamping, with points like spears
Shackle link shatters, sum of all fears


Overlord powers, morphing at will
Halfling granddaughter, her practiced skill
Bloody dick ripping, presented bill
Vampire puss draining, drinking its fill


Halfling granddaughter, playing the game
Survival depends, never the same
Earthling with power, a halfling dame
Draining his life-force, drawing his flame

Part Eleven ANALYZED


Mars mission station, Red Planet One
Astronaut’s cabin, science begun
Message demanding
A saucer landing
Specimen’s taken, the battle won

Alien beings, wanting to know
Human reactions, sexy fuck show
Worm tail the licker
Strobe lighting flicker
Stripped of her clothing, probing below

Astronauts pleading, tied up and bare
The big eyes watching, with greatest care
Pseudo-pods growing
Her passion knowing
Tickle clit nibble, alien lair


Thrusting within her, licking inside
Her panic peaking, pseudo-pod’s bride
Passion dance screaming
Pseudo-pod reaming
Nipple lick suckle, so tightly tied

Reactions noted, and analyzed
Passion continues, watching big eyes
Probing and prodding
High colon sodding
Mars mission raiding, the fleshy prize

Pheromones stinking, fuel their ship
The blackness blinking, a deep space trip
Fuel unit screaming
She’s not wet dreaming
Planet of Trantor, losing her grip

Shining big diamond, powered by must
The big eyes serving, overlord’s trust
Harvested power
The docking tower
Overlords morphing, pseudo-pods thrust

The End