It keeps touching you. All over your body, inspecting it. It’s never seen anything like you before. Keeping your legs spread apart on the floor. Rubbing down your sides, your breasts, to your exposed pussy.
Using its three fingers it starts to touch your pussy. It’s so teasing yet doesn’t know it. Feeling its cold fingers touch your clit is enough to make you moan. Your moans are intriguing, so it continues to touch you to see what else you do.
As it rubs down your pussy, it finds your wet hole. Slowly it slides a finger inside, curious to figure out what your body does. It’s long finger hits all of the right spots. Before you know it, it pulls its finger out. Suddenly it replaces it with something that feels slimy and really, really wide.
You try to see what’s going on and maybe try and stop it, but it feels really good. Way too good. It slowly moves in and out of you. The pleasure is overwhelming. Feeling the slimy rod use you.
Your pussy feels really stuffed. Just as you feel about to reach your climax, you feel something else enter you while what you think is its cock is inside of you. You feel beyond stuffed now. Just as it pulls you, you realize it was breeding you. The alien planted its egg inside of your pussy.
I wanna be milked like a cow so bad now by any monster or alien 🙏🏻❤️
Imagine working as a “milk maid” at a special and exclusive club for monsters or aliens. It’s now girly’s job to fill the patrons cups with her milk. Or even let some extra special v.i.p. patrons drink “straight from the tap”
🥛🐄🐄🐄🥛
You knew it wouldn't stop with just one night. A silly bet. Some fun. That's it. But no. You knew you wouldn't get away so easily. You knew that after the way that little bet turned out, for the utter delight of every alien in the bar, it wasn't going to end just like that. One time. Done and forgotten.
Yeah, no way.
The tips were insane, and the bar had never seen so many extra zeros after closing. Your co-workers ended the night with bras stuffed fat with kredits, and they slapped your back like you just hit the jackpot instead of getting publicly fucked and milked half-unconscious.
And the videos dropped before your shift even ended.
Grainy clips first. Just a few seconds of you walking around the tables, tray balanced in your palm, dark wet patches blooming on your top. Then clearer cuts. Records from different angles. You up on the bar, skirt shoved up, legs wide open, ridged tentacles plunging so deep your belly bulges with every thrust. Your swollen breasts dripping with milk. Drool on your chin. Eyes glassy and unfocused. Your own broken, crackling moans mixing with wet slaps and alien laughter.
"She’s soaking the bar. Someone get a pitcher."
Human cow in heat, the caption said, and Worth every kredit.
It went viral. You went viral. And with it, of course, The Den, too. The views climbed to millions, comments begging for a round two and three and four.
The bar isn't subtle about what it is about. Aliens come to see humans, rare and exotic in these parts of the galaxy, and they pay anything to try them, too. To get a taste of soft skin and clenching cunt.
So much so that-
"I want to make it a regular thing," your boss states. "Every week. Fridays." She leans forward slightly, claws tapping on the table. "You get a nice bonus for it."
You open your mouth. Then close it.
You knew it was coming. You saw the videos and the comments. You saw how full the bar was the next week. You felt it even during the quiet shifts. The weight of the stares picturing you up on the counter again, stuffed full.
But every week? The thought makes your stomach twist. You can't complain about your job. The money is good, better than anything you could have on Earth. But getting fucked and milked like that every week? Your nipples tighten traitorously at the memory, but you are unsure your body could really handle it week after week. You were exhausted, overstimulated, half-dazed, and leaking for days. But the money... You saw your account the next day. Rent covered, groceries for weeks. Just from one night.
Your boss lets you think it through, but you know she wouldn't accept a blunt no. That's too much money to say no to it.
"What about the other girls?"
She shrugs. "Maybe. Later. But I want you. The patrons want you." A smile curls on her lips, sharp teeth flashing. "You will be The Den's delicacy."
Delicacy... a dripping, leaking delicacy.
"Every two weeks," you say at last. "Fridays only. Special nights, as you said before. And I want Saturdays and Sundays off on those weeks."
The silence hangs tense for a second. The alien stares at you, all four eyes unblinking. "Every two weeks. Weekends off. And you drink without complaint. You perform. You let them see what a good little human you can be." She extends one long, bony hand across the desk. "Deal?"
_
You feel like a prey.
Your boss made sure the word spread: new specialty in The Den. Every other Friday. With you on the menu. And it shows. The bar is full. The tables are packed. Tentacles are draped over furniture, scaled tails flick on the floor, claws tap on the side of cool glasses, and wings flap by instinct every now and again.
Stares burn through your barely-there uniform the second you emerge from the back. The top is the same thin fabric as always, but tonight, you are especially aware of how it clings to you. It hides nothing from the prying eyes: glowing, slit-pupiled, compound, hungry. You feel them trace the curve of your breasts and linger on the faint outline of your nipples already pebbled from nerves and the low thrum of the bass. Your skin prickles under the weight of all the attention.
You try to focus on the tray in your hand, on the orders you are supposed to take, but every sway of your hips is followed by low murmurs and clicks of tongues.
You make your way to the bar and lean over the counter to call for the next round. The bartender, an older human man with greying beard and matching hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of his neck, is busy chatting up a small group of females a few feet from you. One of them laughs at something he says, and another reaches out to fix absolutely nothing on the collar of his shirt. The man just smirks and winks at them before turning to you.
You lift a knowing brow at him.
He shrugs. "What? You’re not the only popular one here."
The group giggles again, eyelashes flutter, wings, too.
He finishes loading your tray, and you are almost ready to run another round around the bar, when he turns back to you with a small shot glass in hand. The liquid is clear and shimmery under the colorful lights above.
"And this," he says, "is for you."
And just like that-
The moment the words leave his mouth, it’s like someone hit pause on the entire room.
The music still filters through the speakers, but the chatter dies quickly. Head turns. Eyes lock. Tentacles still. Even the women beside you go quiet. Now, instead of your co-worker, they watch you with curiosity.
The weight of it all presses down on your shoulders. Their anticipation breathes down the back of your neck.
Your stomach knots tight.
You can still change your mind. It's not too late. Yes, your boss would give you a hard time for a few weeks, but she would quickly find another human for the job, and you could continue serving the tables. The aliens wouldn't be happy either, but if they don't want to get banned, they would quickly shut their mouths about it. You can say no.
But do you want to?
With a deep inhale and a quiet cheers, you tip the glass back in one big gulp.
The liquid coats your tongue with honeyed sweetness, followed by a burn that warms you from the inside out. It spreads fast: first your throat, then your chest, and finally, it curls low and hot in your belly.
You slam the empty glass down with a loud thunk.
And the bar erupts.
Cheers and whistles drown out even your own thoughts for a long second. The music and the clinking of glasses disappear. Someone shouts something in a language you don't understand. A tentacle slaps down on the table, almost tipping it over.
The bartender leans in so you can hear him over the roar; "Have fun, and shout my name if you want it to stop."
Your breasts already feel heavier, though you aren't sure if it's not just your mind playing tricks on you.
With the tray back in your hand, you reply a quiet thanks.
It starts low in your stomach. A trembling warmth uncoiling. Slow and syrupy. Up your spine. Across your ribs. Between your legs and deep in your chest. Your pussy clenches in time with your heartbeat, thighs flexing for friction, and your nipples harden into aching points under your top. The material feels wrong now, too rough and too tight. It rubs over you with every step you take, and you can't help but scowl at the feeling.
You reach the first table with reptilians around. Their scales glint bronze under the lights, tails lashing lazily.
One of them leans back as you set down their drinks. His slit-pupiled eyes rake over you shamelessly. "I can already smell you."
His friends snicker and sniff the air.
You are not surprised. The others told you about the change in your scent because of the serum. You smelled sweet for days, made the aliens' mouths water and teeth ache.
As you straighten, a scaled hand brushes the back of your thigh, claws grazing just under the hem of your short skirt.
"Fuck, look how hard those nipples are," the one in the middle purrs with a wet click of his tongue. "Gonna leak for us soon, human?"
Without a reply, you move on. They are regulars, always up for some bantering, but right now, you can't focus enough to come up with anything. It doesn't even matter. They continue to laugh and stare anyway.
The change in your body is familiar from the first time, but still new and strange. Your chest is heavy. Your nipples throb in time with your pulse, so sensitive now that the slightest shift of fabric feels like a rough tongue dragging over them. You have to bite your tongue not to hiss. And the warmth in your stomach has turned to fire by now. Every touch leaves a trail of heat on your sweaty skin. Every comment sinks deep as they watch you unravel.
At least you are not panicking now. The last, and first, time, you had to beg one of your co-workers to look up if it's normal or if you are going to die or something.
Teasing touches follow you through the bar.
A smooth and cold one slides up between your legs, barely reaching the damp fabric of your panties, but you still sigh at the cool feeling he offers. When your thighs clench to keep it there, the alien laughs. Then another one slips to your ass, sneering when he pulls your underwear tighter, making you whine and bat his hand away.
"Gonna spread these cheeks later and watch that tight little hole wink while I stretch your pussy. You're gonna leak milk and cum all over the floor by the time we’re done."
"Don't worry, little human, I have enough cocks to fill your holes."
"Smells like she’s already in heat. I’m gonna make her black out on my suckers."
You are panting now. Open-mouthed.
A tentacle flicks your nipple. Claws pinch the other.
You make it back to the bar, but barely. Your legs are unsteady, and your body is buzzing. Your top clings to you in new ways; tiny damp spots form where your nipples leak the first beads. Your cheeks burn at the sight, and you have to grab the edge of the counter to keep yourself from massaging yourself, though you are sure the bar would appreciate it.
The bartender catches your eye, but says nothing. Just raises a brow with an infuriating smirk and takes the empty tray from your hands.
You are still catching your breath, fingers curling and loosening, when she steps up beside you.
She is lean and elegant with sharp lines and grace. No breasts, at least not the way humans have them. Her chest is a smooth, flat plate. She is completely bald, skin covered instead with intricate, swirling tattoos. Her eyes are huge, slowly blinking.
She tilts her head, gaze dropping immediately to your chest. "How does it feel?"
You swallow. Your tongue feels thick in your mouth. "It… it’s warm," you manage. "Heavy. Like they’re filling up too fast. Every little touch feels… too much. And it makes me-" You cut off, cheeks burning. "It makes everything else clench."
The alien blinks once. "May I touch you?"
You swallow again. Then nod. "Yes."
She is careful. Her touch is cool, too, on your fever-hot flesh even through your top. She squeezes at first as if testing the weight and the feel of it. Your nipple drags against her palm, and you bite back a whimper. Your back arches on its own, pushing you into her gentle hold. Her fingers spread wide, kneading the swollen curve. It sends a jolt straight down between your legs, and you press your thighs together instinctively. Slickness ruins your panties entirely.
She watches transfixed. "So full already." She looks... fascinated.
Behind you, the small group of alien women from earlier drifts closer.
One presses against your back. Her breath is warm on your neck as he peers over your shoulder. "Gods, look at them growing."
And she is right. Your tits grow. The soaked fabric of your top is now like a second skin on your body. It stretches over your chest, clinging.
The hand of the woman behind you comes around, cupping your other breast. She is less careful. Her fingers dig in, rolling your nipple between thumb and forefinger through your shirt, yet you sigh with relief. The pressure from both of them eases something deep inside, even though it winds you tighter at the same time, too.
"Fuck," someone hisses nearby, and another alien says something you don't understand.
"So soft," the one behind you coos over your shoulder, squeezing a bit harder.
The tattooed one nods in agreement, thumb circling your areola. "Such a good little human. So eager to give."
And fuck, the situation does something to you. Them, talking over your head while groping you in front of the whole bar. Your knees threaten to buckle. Every tug and slow knead sends fresh heat pooling low in your belly. It settles in your core and licks up through your veins. Your milk drips steadily now, and you are hyperaware of every breath you take. And the whole time, the women massage, giggle, and coo about how pretty you look and how sweet you smell.
Another alien steps up then. Another regular, though not a chatterer. You don't even know his name.
One side of his mouth is twisted from a jagged scar running from his chin, across his lips, up to the corner of his missing eye. The empty socket is shadowed under the bone of his brow.
Your breath catches as you stare up at him.
He just looms there for a few seconds until the women back away from you. Out of respect. Or fear. Or maybe they are just curious to see what happens next.
Now that there are no hands to hold your tits, they feel extra heavy.
Without a word, the scarred alien hooks one claw under the neckline of your top, and the material gives with a soft ripping sound. It flutters to the floor, forgotten before it reaches the ground.
Your breasts spill free, and whistles ripple through the crowd while the alien in front of you grunts low in his throat. Something rough and guttural that might be a fuck. His good eye drifts up to meet yours, then drops back to your bare, dripping tits. Milk beads at the tips in fat drops. And the male doesn't hesitate. No question asked. Just him latching onto your nipple with a wet, hungry sound. The suction hits hard and suddenly. You cry out, back arching as the pull of his lips shoots straight to your clit, and your milk fills his mouth.
But he is too tall. The angle is awkward. His head bent low, shoulders hunched, while you are almost on your tiptoes in an uncomfortable arch to offer him more.
He growls in frustration, your nipple still in his mouth, then grabs your waist with both of his huge hands and lifts you off the floor like you weigh nothing. Your legs curl around his torso with a gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders. You cling to him helplessly, thighs clamping tight on his sides.
Your breast presses into his greedy maw. Your milk flows freely now, so much so that it spills from the corners of his mouth when he swallows too slowly. You can hear the wet gulps and the vibration of his growls and grunts on your skin.
And you can feel the others watching.
"Can I take her home?"
"My mate would love a cow like her."
If your mind were less dizzy and your body less demanding, you would be embarrassed by this whole thing. But that ship has sailed. And there is no turning back. Not when your hips rock forward, trying to grind against anything that can give you some friction and release. But he is not here for your pleasure, you find out quickly. He is here to drink. Deep, greedy pulls while your pussy throbs with emptiness, soaked and aching and ignored. He simply doesn’t care. He just keeps sucking, one nipple then the other, like you’re nothing but a vessel to empty. To fill him instead.
Your head falls back. Eyes glassy with tears.
When he finally pulls off with a wet pop and puts you down, milk coats his scarred lips. Then, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and grunts a thanks or maybe something entirely different.
"What an asshole!" you hear one of the women behind you, but there is laughter in her voice.
And you stay standing here, tits heavy, nipples raw and wet, and pussy throbbing with need he denied.
And the bar erupts again. The waves of it ripple down your spine.
The room is a sea of glowing eyes and shifting bodies. A tentacled patron in the corner has two slick limbs wrapped around his own cock. Or cocks, you can't be sure because of the shadows. At the nearest table, a reptilian couple has one of the other waitresses bent over. Top yanked down, skirt flipped up. One claws at her ass while the other laps at her exposed cunt. Some sip their drinks, eyes never leaving your dripping breasts, others lean forward, elbows on tables, cocks or slits already freed and glistening in the low light. Even the ones not touching anyone yet stare with open, shameless want.
This, this is familiar, too. The predatory stares, snarling mouths, and tense bodies. The way you can almost read their minds about what they want to do to you.
"Come here, cow. My cocks are already hard for you. Pick one. Or take both."
"Sit on my face first! Let me drink that cunt."
Someone growls from the back. "Climb on my lap, human. You can grind that dripping pussy on me before I fill you proper."
"Don't listen to them, love, my suckers will suck that swollen clit while you ride. You won’t even have to move. I’ll milk your cunt and those fat tits."
But your gaze catches on someone else. Scaled in deep emerald and black, ridges sharp along his shoulders and down his spine. He is sprawled on a chair like he owns the fucking place, legs spread wide, thick thighs straining the seams of his pants. One hand rests on his knee while the other holds an almost-empty glass that he swirls absently before one last gulp. His eyes, slit-pupiled and burning gold, lock onto yours the second you look his way. He looks smug. Almost mean. The corner of his mouth curls in a slow smirk that shows just a hint of fangs.
He lifts his chin once. Come here.
Your legs move before your brain can catch up.
The serum has you so wound up that every step sends fresh wetness sliding down your inner thighs. The feeling is uncomfortable. This slickness. It reminds you how empty you are. And how full you are. Your bare tits bounce with every movement, and milk drips slowly and obscenely down your skin.
You feel like you are melting from the inside out.
The alien yanks you forward and pulls you down onto his lap with one smooth motion when you get close enough. Your thighs straddle one of his, and your soaked cunt presses hot against the rough texture of his pants.
"Easy, little cow," he coos, low and mocking.
Heat floods your face. Shame and need twist together until you can’t tell them apart. Your hips jerk forward on instinct, grinding slow circles on his thigh.
You are already so close it’s embarrassing.
He laughs under his breath while his hand slides up to cup you in his huge palm. The other reaches past you to grab his empty glass off the table to dangle it in front of you.
"Gonna fill this for me, aren't ya?"
The bar cheers around you again.
And the alien squeezes. You gasp at the rough motion while your milk splatters into the glass with wet little plinks. The sound echoes in your ears. Somewhere, shame and embarrassment burn in you, but with every pull, your clunt clenches harder, and you forget everything else. Your wetness soaks through his pants, marking him with your desperation.
The glass fills steadily, creamy liquid swirling at the bottom.
The crowd around you is restless, and when the alien under you lifts the half-full glass for everyone to see, holding it up like a trophy, the room roars.
He brings the glass to his lips. Gulps it down in long, greedy swallows, and sets the empty glass aside with a clink.
Then both hands clamp down on your hips.
Finally.
"Grind that dripping cunt on my thigh like the needy little human you are. Come on. Show everyone how bad you want to cream yourself in front of the whole bar."
It's toomuch
But notenough
Your swollen clit rubs over the rough texture of his trousers. You can feel his muscles tense and relax, leg jerks just enough to make your tits bounce with each roll of your hips.
"That’s it," he hisses, fingers digging into your ass cheeks, spreading you wider. "Look at you. Humping my leg like a bitch in heat. Bet you’d come just from me squeezing these fat udders again, wouldn’t you?"
You are a leaking, drooling mess. Your moans are high and frantic. The pressure coils tight in your core and-
snaps.
You come hard, thighs clamping around his, cunt spasming, slick gushing in a hot rush that soaks his pants completely. Your head falls back, mouth open around a silent scream, and your body shakes as wave after wave of pleasure rip through you.
By the time someone, a tentacle maybe, hauls you up onto a table, you are half-delirious. Drinks scatter around you, glasses tipping over in sticky spills. Your skirt is gone, panties ripped away in the chaos, and you are left bare and whining on the metal surface.
Aliens crowd around you. Close. Too close. Their warmth buzzes around you: hot breaths, snarky comments you don't understand, rough palms, slimy limbs. And you feel them everywhere: the press of bodies and the low growls.
"Drippin' like a broken faucet."
"Bet she’d take anything right now."
Tentacles snake out from the shadows. Ridged limbs glisten with clear ooze. They wrap around your wrists, your ankles, pinning you down to the table with firm, unyielding suction. You arch against them, but it's more like a reflex than an attempt to escape.
Because a tongue finds your pussy.
Long. Forked. It laps up from your entrance to your clit in one dragging stroke. You gasp, hips twitching for more, and it delves inside, probing and curling against every hidden spot that makes your vision blur. Your moan is sharp and high. The sound rips from your chest as the tongue flicks that bundle of nerves deep inside. It rubs and laps all over your pussy until stars burst behind your eyelids.
"Such soft little holes. Made for filling. Made for breeding."
"P-please-" You don’t even know what you are asking for.
Someone laughs. "Pathetic little cow can’t even wait for us to decide how we’re gonna use her next."
A hand strokes your cheek almost tenderly before cupping your chin and forcing your mouth open. "You love this, don’t you? Being spread out for the whole bar. Tits full, cunt ready to be filled, leaking everywhere. Say it."
Your lips tremble. Milk beads at your nipples, slow and thick, rolling down the sides of your breasts. "I… I do," you whimper, voice breaking on the admission. Shame burns hot in your chest, but it only makes your clit throb harder. "I love it."
Hands reach out, too. So many hands. They grope your tits, tug your nipples, and knead wherever they reach you.
A claw scrapes over your neck, tracing your fluttering pulse before settling firmly around. Another hand rubs over your lower lip, thumb pressing until you part for it. It pushes inside, and you suck, tongue swirling, teeth nibbling. Fangs graze your jaw. Lips follow. Up to your earlobe, then down your collarbone. The alien sucks bruises into your skin, and you tilt your head for more.
Fingers plunge inside you next. Two, three, thick and knobby, stretching your dripping cunt while another tongue keeps working your clit.
"Fuck… feel how hot she is inside."
"What does this do?"
Your cunt clamps down instantly. Laughter follows.
"Do it again. It makes her cunt tighten every time. See? Little human is trying to come just from being fingered."
"Try curling them up, yeah, like that."
They keep exploring; curling, twisting, pressing different spots while laughing about how your body flutters with another helpless arch and your pussy drools another gush of slick.
"Shit, she’s clenching so hard I can barely move."
At this point, your world is upside down. You are upside down. And it's everything. Scars rough under your grasping fingers. Scales scraping your inner thighs. Something drips down your ass, teasing the puckered hole there without entering.
Someone rubs your clit, and a cock, fat and veiny, thrusts deep into your pussy, filling you to the hilt with a wet squelch.
"First time trying a human," the alien rasps. "Gods, it’s sucking me in- Greedy little thing."
Laughter ripples through the crowd, mean and approving.
"Bet she’s never been this full. Listen to that wet noise."
The one inside you laughs, breathless as he tries to keep himself from coming too soon, hips rolling in a slow grind that drags every ridge over your G-spot. "Gonna breed this pretty cunt full. Fill her up until she’s leaking me for days."
And your voice gets lost in another orgasm.
"Take it," they growl, claws digging into your hips as they fuck you from one climax to the other. "Take every fucking inch, little human. This cunt belongs to us tonight."
You writhe on the table. Back arching. Tits still full and leaking.
Mouths close around your nipples, wet and hungry from different aliens. They drink you like you are the finest brew in the bar. And they knead you for more until their tongues and chins are drenched with you.
Praises float above your head in guttural tongues, coos that drip with humiliation and amusement.
"Fuck, look at her. Like a fucking feast."
"Bet she could come again just from us milking her dry."
"Pathetic, isn’t it? Cunt clenching around anything we give her. Like a bitch in heat."
One orgasm crashes into another. Hot, white sparks burst in front of your glassy eyes. Your veins are licked by pleasure, your pussy by aliens. You shake and moan, raw and ragged.
Someone pushes through the crowd every now and again. A co-worker maybe. They fight past the groping hands and twisting limbs to shove some water to your lips to keep you from passing out. You gulp it down blindly, spilling half over your chin and chest, then they are gone, swallowed back into the mass of bodies.
Someone new fucks you, tentacle or cock, you can’t tell anymore, slamming deep and rough until they pull out and cum hot across your belly in thick ropes that mix with the milk and slick already coating you.
They keep going. Keep draining you. Filling you.
Strong hands grab your shoulders. They sit you up slowly and carefully, like you are something fragile. Well, you are. Your head lolls back against a broad chest. You don't have the strength to hold yourself up. Then new hands join, gentler than before, but still greedy. Palms cup your breasts, coaxing more white beads to the surface until they drip in thin streams down your skin. Tongues follow their path. Long, forked ones drag up the wetness on your belly, rougher ones lick over your ribs. Something slimy trails up your thighs, tasting the slick there. Another mouth closes over your nipple, sucking in a soothing motion.
"Cunt’s still twitching. Bet she’d take another load if we asked nicely."
A low laugh. "Or not so nicely."
"Look at that hole," someone adds, but you can't be sure if he is the one prodding at your pussy. "So puffy."
"Can I get a human for home?"
"We are not pets, you idiot!" It's one of your co-workers, but her voice quickly disappears beneath all the laughter.
"Are you sure? This one looks like one to me."
"I would take care of her so well."
"Fucking her every day is not taking care of someone."
"I disagree."
You’re half-conscious, floating somewhere between awake and gone. It's overload. Bliss. Satisfaction so deep it borders on pain. Your skin tingles where they lick, where they scrape and curl around like they are afraid you will float away if they let go completely. A thumb rubs over your clit once, twice, making you whimper and jerk. Another hand squeezes your ass. They open your thighs again just enough to let the air kiss the messy heat between them. Fingers trace the drying cum on your belly, smearing it in idle patterns like they’re marking territory one last time.
You’re not sure how much time passes.
You think-
one weekend off is not enough
and
every two weeks is too much
too, too much
_
And if you liked this story, I have a bunch of similar ones here.
could you do more of the multi monster research assistant things? I love them so much
Forgotten research
Multiple aliens x fem!reader || free use, oral sex, tentacles, sharing is caring
Imagine being hired to help in a laboratory in space. The opportunity of your life, you are the perfect person for the job, you’d love to go. And when the call finally comes and they tell you to prepare your suitcase because you are going to space, you are over the moon (pun intended). You don’t need to grab much, they told you they’ll provide all the clothes you’d need, and you are so excited you might pee yourself.
When you get there, everyone is as happy as you are. Most of your alien colleagues had never seen a human before, and it shows. You’d be annoyed by it if it wasn’t for the fact that you are equally mesmerized by them. So many forms, genders, and different kinds of extremities. They all look so interesting and strange to you. You want nothing more than to explore them all, from head to toe, to know what exactly makes them different from you.
And they have the same idea as you.
At first it’s all jokes and teasing, a touch here, copping a feel there… It rapidly escalates to you asking your research partner to touch their tentacles, wanting to know how they feel against your skin. Offering to show you their genitals, you offering to let them touch your boobs. Curiosity drives you in, and arousal makes you stay. They tell the others, who are equally curious and excited to get to explore your body and let you explore theirs.
Your research partner ends up bending you over a lab stool on a random day while the PCR machine works its magic. You had a bit of time, and instead of checking data as you should, you tell them what a G-spot is. They are so confused and interested. You end up offering (from the goodness of your heart) to let them touch it and feel it for themselves. Obviously, it ends up with your legs over their shoulders and their long tongue rubbing over your G-spot over and over and over until you are squirting all over their face and they are smirking. They tell the others, and the next day you have three other aliens wanting to see how you do that.
One of the aliens in data analysis tells you about their need to release at least once a day, and you are so surprised by the explanation of their anatomy that you request to see it happen. It ends up with you on your knees and his dicktacle spilling all over your face and chest. Two more aliens join him to add to the mess while you sit back on your heels and rub your clit until you come, much to their delight.
The lab assistant who joined you on your first day presses you against a wall and pushes his ridged dick up your pussy, wanting to feel how tight humans are while another alien looks, jerking their double-peen while you are fucked within an inch of your life, your mouth agape while he praises your pussy. The second he comes messily inside of you, the second alien is on you, wanting to test if the first one was right. You don’t complain, too fucking happy to be orgasming again and again.
And before you realize, your research job mixes with touches and groping, with orgasms in the middle of your day, and multiple aliens wanting to fuck you at any given chance. And you give as well as you receive, always ready to try another alien cock, to taste another alien pussy… The whole reason for your research forgotten while you spent most of your time naked and filled with multiple genitalia.
Carrying His Eggs (alien!dragon x fem!reader!2nd POV)
TW: NSFW, MDNI, non-con, dub-con, P in V, oviposition, egg-laying, breeding, cervical penetration, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, psychological, power imbalance, fluids.
Summary: When your survey ship crashes on an uncharted planet, you become the obsession of Rodrak, a Draconian species that seeks a mate to carry his eggs. And he has chosen you.
⋆｡ﾟ🪐｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★🛸⋆｡ﾟ🪐｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆☆°‧★🛸
You’d heard him before you saw him. A low, reverberating sound, not a growl, but a deep, clicking purr that seemed to travel through the stone itself and up the bones of your legs. You’d frozen, pressing yourself into a crevice, heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. The sound got closer, accompanied by the heavy, deliberate scrape of something massive moving over rock.
Then, the glow of your stick caught him.
He filled the tunnel ahead.
Not a lizard, not quite a dragon from any Earth myth, but something horrifyingly in between. He was bipedal, towering over eight feet tall, covered in plates of deep umber and rust-red scales. A powerful tail, tipped with a spiked club, swept slowly behind him. His face was elongated, a draconic muzzle lined with serrated teeth, but his eyes… they were the worst. They were a luminous, intelligent gold, with vertical slits for pupils, and they were fixed on you.
You’d run.
A futile, stumbling scramble.
He’d followed with terrifying, leisurely strides. You’d fallen, the glow-stick skittering away, and then darkness had swallowed you, broken only by the faint bioluminescent fungi on the walls. He’d herded you, you realized later, like a predator corralling prey.
Now, you were here. In his lair.
The chamber was vast, the ceiling lost in shadow. The primary light came from a deep, subterranean geothermal vent that pulsed with a soft glow, illuminating piles of what looked like polished metal, strange crystals. In the center was a massive nest of dried, fibrous moss and furs.
He stood between you and the only exit you could see. He was studying you, his head tilted. He’d spoken earlier, his voice a deep, guttural rumble that formed words in your own language, learned, you presumed, from the wreckage of your ship or the bodies of your crewmates.
“You are damaged,” he had said, pointing a clawed digit at your bleeding leg.
Now, he took a step closer. You scrambled back until your spine hit the warm stone wall. “Stay away from me!”
“You fear,” he stated, the words oddly precise. “It is… expected. But unnecessary. I am Rodrak. This is my territory. You are in it.”
“I’ll leave,” you choked out, hating the tremor in your voice. “Just let me go. I won’t come back.”
A chuckle shook his broad chest. “You cannot leave. You are here for a purpose.”
“What purpose?” you demanded, though a cold, sick dread was pooling in your stomach.
He moved with a speed that belied his size, closing the distance in a blink. One large, clawed hand wrapped around your waist, lifting you off the ground as if you weighed nothing. You shrieked, beating your fists against his scaled forearm, but it was like hitting solid rock. He carried you to the nest and set you down on the surprisingly soft furs, his body caging you in. The heat radiating from him was immense.
“My species requires a host,” he said, his golden eyes boring into yours. His muzzle was inches from your face. You could smell that musky scent directly now, stronger, more pungent. “A vessel. For the next generation. The eggs must be laid in a warm, living incubator. A compatible host.”
“No. No, find someone else. One of your own kind!”
“They are not compatible. Your biology… it is strange. Soft. Warm. Perfect.” He brought his other hand up and, with shocking delicacy, ran the back of a single claw down the side of your face. You flinched. “I have searched this sector for many cycles. The others from your crew were inadequate. Weak. You… you are strong. You have fire. You will be my mate. You will carry my clutch.”
“I will not!” you spat, thrashing anew. “You’re a monster! Let me go!”
The word ‘monster’ made his eyes narrow, but not with anger. With something like pity. “You do not understand. This is an honor. To be chosen. I will provide. I will protect. You will want for nothing, except my cock and my eggs.”
You stared at him, speechless for a moment.
Then the struggle began in earnest. You fought with everything you had, kicking, scratching, twisting. He simply weathered it, his grip unyielding. With a low growl, he used his weight to pin you fully to the furs, your arms stretched above your head, held easily in one of his massive hands. His lower body settled between your thighs, pressing down. You could feel something then, through the fabric of your torn flight suit—a thick, heavy pressure against your lower stomach. Something that was not shaped like any human anatomy.
“The fear will pass,” he murmured. “It is the instinct of the prey. But you are not prey. You shall be my breeding mate. Your body will learn this truth before your mind does.”
He used his free hand to rend the fabric of your suit. Teared it. Cool air, then the intense heat of his body, hit your exposed skin. You cried out. He examined you, his gaze scalding as it traveled over your breasts, your stomach, the junction of your thighs. He made that clicking purr again, deep in his chest.
“So soft. So smooth. So wet. A proper nest for my seed.”
You were sobbing now, tears cutting tracks through the grime on your face. “Please, don’t. Please…”
He ignored your pleas. His head lowered, and you felt the rough, dry texture of his forked tongue drag up the center of your body from your navel to your sternum. “You taste of fear and salt. Soon, you will taste of need.”
His hand released your wrists to tear away the remains of your clothing below the waist. You tried to knee him, to buck him off, but it was futile. He caught your thighs in his hands, spreading them wide, opening you to the glowing light of the cave and his relentless gaze. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to disappear into the darkness behind your eyelids.
Then you felt it. The pressure against your inner thigh. Hot, huge, insistent. You forced your eyes open and looked down.
His cock was as alien as the rest of him. It was thick, base easily the width of your wrist, tapering slightly to a blunt, rounded tip. It was a deep, glossy black, segmented like the exoskeleton of an insect, but pulsing with inner light of deep crimson along the seams.
The most shocking feature were the pronounced, bulbous ridges that ringed the shaft, each one swelling larger than the last in a massive, knot-like medial ring about two-thirds of the way up. At the very base, you could see the heavy, taut swell of what must be his sacks, but they seemed oddly rigid.
“It will fit,” he said, observing your fixation. “Your body will stretch. It is designed to. The ridges will prepare the channel. The final ring will lock us together as I deposit the eggs in your womb.”
“You’re insane,” you whispered. “It’ll kill me.”
“It will not. I have studied your structure. It will be… intense. But you will survive. You will thrive.” He positioned the blunt, hot tip of his cock at your entrance.”
He didn’t force it in.
Instead, he lowered his head again, his muzzle nudging your thighs apart further. You felt the hot, wet swipe of his tongue, broad and rough, directly over your pussy. You jerked and cried out. It wasn’t like a human tongue. It was abrasive, demanding, and it worked at you with a single-minded purpose. He licked into you, over your clit,the sensation was unbearable—a shocking violation that sent conflicting signals through your nerves. Your mind screamed in revolt, but your traitorous body, after minutes of this focused attention, began to betray you.
He purred again, the vibration against your sensitive flesh making you gasp. “See? Your flesh knows its purpose. It welcomes me.”
You were panting now, shame and fear and a horrifying, creeping thread of arousal tangling in your gut. He rose back over you, the tip of his cock now slick with your own moisture. He pressed forward.
The initial stretch was agonizing. You screamed, the sound echoing off the cavern walls. The blunt, thick head pushed past your tight ring of muscle, spreading you wider than you’d ever been stretched. You felt like you were being split in two. He paused, letting your body strain around the first inch of him. The segmented ridges caught on your inner lips, creating a dragging, burning friction.
“Breathe, mate,” he commanded, his breath coming in sharp huffs. “Take the first knot. It is the hardest.”
He pushed again. You felt the first large ridge pop past your entrance, and a broken sob wrenched from your throat. The feeling of being stuffed, filled beyond capacity, was overwhelming. He didn’t stop. He fed more of that monstrous length into you, each successive ridge stretching you a little more, burning a little less, until your nerves felt flooded, overloaded with the sensation of being utterly penetrated. You were achingly full.
Then, the largest ring, the medial knot, met your entrance. He rocked his hips, applying steady pressure. “This is the seal,” he grunted. “Take it, and the breeding truly begins.”
You were shaking uncontrollably, sweat slicking your skin. You shook your head, whimpering “no, no, no” like a mantra. He gripped your hips, his claws pricking your skin, and thrust forward with a powerful snap of his hips.
The knot forced its way inside you.
The sensation was beyond anything you could have imagined. A brutal fullness that transcended pain and became a pure wave of stimulation. Your back arched off the furs, a guttural cry torn from your lips that wasn’t entirely one of agony. You were locked on him, impaled, feeling every throb of that alien cock deep in your belly. Your pussy clenched and fluttered around the massive intrusion in helpless spasms.
Rodrak roared, a sound of primal triumph that shook the cave.
He began to move.
With the knot seated inside you, his strokes were short, deep, and punishing. He couldn’t pull out far, so each thrust was a grind, the ridges along his shaft dragging against your overstimulated inner walls with every inch. The friction was incredible, a relentless pleasure-pain that built with crazy speed. Your earlier fear was being consumed, burned away by the raw, physiological fire he was stoking inside you. Your cries shifted, the notes of protest dying, replaced by ragged, open-mouthed gasps.
“Your cunt is learning,” he snarled, his pace increasing. The slap of his scaled hips against your thighs was a loud, wet rhythm in the chamber. “It clutches at me. It begs for the eggs. Tell me you want them.”
“I don’t!” you moaned, but it sounded weak, even to your own ears. Your body was moving with his, hips lifting to meet his drives, your inner muscles milking the thick shaft locked inside you.
“Liar,” he hissed, pleasure evident in his guttural tone. “Your body does not lie. I can feel it. The channel is softening, preparing. It hungers for the clutch.”
He shifted his angle, and on the next deep, grinding thrust, the blunt tip of his cock struck something deep inside you—a spot that sent a lightning bolt of pure, blinding pleasure straight to your core. You screamed, your eyes flying open to meet his burning gold gaze.
“There,” he breathed, a smile stretching his maw. “The entrance to your womb. The eggs must pass through there. Do you feel how your body opens for me?”
He did it again, and again, hammering against your cervix with deliberate strokes. The pain of the initial penetration had melted, transformed into a deep, resonant ache of fullness and a shocking, spreading heat. A coil was tightening low in your belly, an orgasm building from the sheer intensity of the stimulation. The shame was still there, but it was distant, drowned out by the roaring in your blood and the slapping sounds of his breeding.
“I’m… I’m going to…” you choked out, unable to even finish the thought.
“Come,” he commanded. “Come on my cock. Prepare the way for the clutch.”
The order, the dominance in his voice, snapped the last thread of your resistance. Orgasm crashed over you, violent and all-consuming. Your vision whited out as your pussy clenched and convulsed around his invading length, the pulsations rippling along the ridged shaft. You heard your own voice, raw and screaming, echoing in the cavern.
Rodrak roared again as your internal spasms triggered his own release. You felt a sudden, hot flood deep inside you—not the familiar wetness of human cum, but a thicker, viscous, hot liquid. It filled you, painting your inner walls, a sensation of being claimed from the inside out. He pumped it into you in great jets, and you could feel your stomach distending slightly with the volume of it.
“The seed fertilizes the eggs,” he grunted, still pumping his hips in shallow motions, ensuring every drop was deposited at the deepest point. “Now… the clutch itself.”
The heat inside you intensified. You felt a strange, shifting pressure at the base of his cock, where it was locked inside you by the knot. Then, a new sensation. A solid, rounded object traveling up the internal channel of his cock. You felt it move through the shaft, a distinct, rolling bulge, until it reached the tip, pressed against your sensitive cervix.
Your eyes widened. “What… what is that?”
“The first egg,” he said, his voice strained with effort and pleasure. “Take it, mate. Open for it.”
The pressure increased. The blunt head of his cock was holding the egg firmly against the tiny opening of your womb. He gave a powerful thrust, pushing with his entire body.
A sharp pain lanced through you, different from the stretch of his cock. This was deeper, internal. You felt your cervix dilate, forced open by the pressure of the smooth orb. There was a pop, a sensation of something giving way, and then a profound fullness settled even deeper within you than his cock had reached. The first egg was inside your womb.
A broken whimper left your lips. It felt huge, a foreign presence in your body. Before you could even process it, you felt the second egg begin its journey up his shaft.
“Yes,” Rodrak moaned, his claws digging into your hips. “Your womb accepts them. It is perfect.”
The second egg pressed, and he thrust, and another pop, another wave of deep, filling pressure. Your mind was fragmenting. The pain was real, but it was woven through with the lingering echoes of your orgasm, the shocking heat of his seed, and the claiming pleasure of being so utterly used and filled.
Egg after egg traveled up his cock and was pushed through your cervix into your womb. Three. Four. Five. Each one stretched you a little more, added to the heavy, gravid fullness in your belly. You lost count, lost in a haze of pain and overwhelming sensation. You were moaning continuously now, a stream of helpless, needy sounds. Your hands, which had been pushing weakly at his chest, now clutched at his scaled shoulders, holding on as he filled you with his offspring.
The final egg was deposited. He held himself deep, the knot still swollen inside you, keeping his seed and the eggs sealed within your body. He collapsed forward slightly, bracing himself on his arms above you, his hot breath washing over your face. His golden eyes were half-lidded, sated, possessive.
You lay beneath him, utterly spent, filled beyond imagination. Your belly was visibly rounded, taut with the clutch of heavy eggs and his copious alien-dragon seed. Every internal shift made you gasp.
Slowly, over long minutes, the knot at the base of his cock began to soften and subside. With a final, wet, sucking sound, he slipped out of you. A flood of hot fluid—a mixture of his seed and your own juices—gushed from your well-used pussy, soaking the furs beneath you. You felt empty and yet impossibly full at the same time.
Rodrak rolled to the side, gathering you against his scaled body. One large hand came to rest possessively on your swollen belly. You were too overwhelmed to fight him.
“The clutch is seeded,” he rumbled, his purr a vibration against your back. “They will incubate. You will nourish them. In time, they will hatch.”
You should have been revolted.
You should have been planning your escape.
But a deep, primal lethargy had taken hold. Your body hummed with the aftermath of the most shocking experience of your life. The fear was gone, burned away. In its place was a hollowed-out awe, and dawning curiosity.
“How… how long?” you heard yourself whisper.
“Several of your cycles,” he said. “You will stay here. With me. I will hunt for you. I will keep you warm.” His tongue swiped over the mark his teeth had left on your shoulder. “You did well, my mate. Your fear was strong, but your breeding heat was stronger. You took my entire clutch. I am… pleased.”
The word ‘pleased’ should have meant nothing. But a strange, warm flush spread through your chest. You looked down at his large, dark hand splayed across your belly, over the eggs he had planted inside you. Your mind was a storm of conflict, but your body… your body felt settled. Complete.
You shifted, wincing at the ache between your legs and the heavy movement within you. You turned your head to look up at his draconic face. The luminous gold eyes watched you, waiting.
“Will it… will it feel like that again? When they hatch?”
Rodrak’s eyes gleamed with a fierce, possessive joy. He nuzzled the top of your head, his purr deepening. “No, little mate. That was the breeding. The hatching is different. But do not worry.” He tightened his arm around you, pulling you closer into his heat. “I will be here for that, as well. Every step. You are mine now. My nest. My queen.”
In the weeks following the ‘incident’, your Alien Owner! didn't act much differently. In fact, it was almost as if they didn’t even remember that night; as though it was just another of the endless tasks they perform to keep their human happy and healthy—nothing strange there! In a way, you’re almost…hurt?
That is, until you realize that your Alien Owner! has a new habit. Every night after your hearty dinner of whatever the internet told them is good for you, they smile(?), pat your head like a dog, and leave you to your own devices.
Before, your Alien Owner! would’ve spent the night playing and pampering their sweet little pet—and while this new alone time has been nice after months of non-stop attention, you find yourself growing ever more suspicious. Obviously, your first thought is that they’re going to eat you—before realizing that, despite their alien nature, that was stupid.
Your next thought is to just investigate like a normal person—so after the next night’s meal (Fish? It tasted fishy, certainly didn’t look like any fish you’ve ever seen before), your pat, and your smile(?), you follow your Alien Owner! as discreetly as possible. In hindsight, considering how much time they spend on their equivalent of a computer, you absolutely could’ve checked there first.
Instead, you get a first-hand view of your Alien Owner! frantically touching themselves. The noises they make, quiet as to not disturb you where they believe you’re situated in the other room, sound almost distressed—nothing like the sweet, incoherent coos you’re usually greeted with.
One sort-of-hand brutally fucks their slit, puffy from weeks of prolonged abuse—but unable to stop or hide the weak dribble of slick plattering over the floor.
Cock painfully stiff, your Alien Owner! braces their body against what you can only imagine to be their bed posts, giving them access to rut their neglected shaft over the spread of unknown fabrics, smears of fluid following each thrust.
You stay just long enough to watch them cum all over their fingers, murmuring a series of garbled trills that sound suspiciously familiar.
Your Alien Owner! was more affected than you thought.
Alien bf never knew there was even more love and affection to behold than what you had shown him and what he’s seen in the data archives found on their ships computers. But ever since he discovered sex and what it felt like to be so deeply connected to you he had turned into a fiend.
If you thought he was taking up all your time before, you literally cannot take a breath without him sliding up behind you and gathering you in his giant arms. Picking up your plush body with ease and molding it against his hard frame.
He carries you everywhere to the point where you often forget the last time your feet have touched the ground. The rest of your crew looks over at you in pity but you honestly can’t find it in yourself to complain. He views you as his mate, it only makes sense to want to do these things for you.
You can’t even delude yourself into thinking it’s innocent anymore. He knows what he’s doing, especially since he was caught watching porn with a hand around his cock. Moaning your name loud enough for someone to think he was calling for help. And he loves it. Making you squirm as he shamelessly feels you up. Soft chirps leaving him as he noses at your cute blush.
But his favorite noises from you come when he’s gotten six or seven orgasms out of your pretty cunt. Making a total mess of his throbbing cock that’s been wrecking you for hours. Fucking you stupid to the point where you forget your own language and start letting out the familiar clicks of his species.
His clawed fingers curl around your waist, using you like a fleshlight as he slams back down on his cock at a brutal pace. Meeting his own thrusts to hammer up into you even harder. Those lovely clicks that sing your pleasure pierce the air and your pussy pulses around his thick girth.
It brings him more satisfaction than he can express. Above all he relishes in the fact that there’s no doubt by now that your crew knows what’s going on in just the next wing of the ship. That’s right. You’re taken and no human cock could ever compare to what he can give you.
“Louder, sweet mate. L-let them, unngh, let them hear how good I make you feel. Need them to know you’re mine,” he growls, his cock twitching inside you and hitting that spot that has you seeing stars.
You cry out loudly, not wanting to admit how good his possession over you feels. Now that you know it’s intentional it makes it all a million times hotter. You’d be embarrassed by the loud squelch that echos with each thrust if you weren’t so unbearably needy, even after coming so much already.
The coil in your belly tightens so hard you fear you’re about to burst. And the second it snaps your releasing streams of your orgasm all over your Alien bf’s huge lap, soaking his lower half entirely. He only lasts for a few more thrusts before he’s burying himself inside you and splashing buckets of cum into your eager cunt.
He keeps you firmly on his lap, your bodies still deeply joined long after he grows soft again. Both of you panting heavily. His breath ghosts across your burning skin as he nuzzles into you, showing no signs of letting go any time soon.
It won’t take much to get him going again. So you take advantage of the break for as long as you can. Trying to ignore the way your pussy flutters as if trying to get him hard again. You can’t control it, he’s turned you into as much of a sex fiend as he is.
Reaching behind you, you brush your hand against your bfs large cheek until you’re weaving your fingers in his long silky hair. A deep purr rumbles from his chest and he leans contently into your touch.
“You’ve gotten pretty good at this whole human intimacy thing. Is there anything else you want to learn?” You ask teasingly, every inch of your body humming with satisfaction.
But of course he takes your words seriously. Perhaps humor will be next up on the list of lessons to get through. Something to think about perhaps when his cock isn’t creating a bulge in your soft belly.
“I wish to learn everything… so long as it’s you teaching it to me, my mate.”
Though all thoughts of lessons and teachings fly out the window when you feel his long thick fingers slowly making their way down to your swollen puffy clit. That he finds with ease by the way. Your bf already growing needy for you again.
Summary: You should have been prey, yet he spared you and marked you as his.
The first time you felt his claws against your skin, you had thought it meant death.
The Yautja warrior towered over you, his dreadlocks slick with rain, his mask glinting in the fading light.
Instead of striking you down, he had drawn a shallow cut across your arm, careful, precise. You hissed in pain until you saw the shape it left behind, a mark.
His mark.
Later, you learned what it meant.
You had not been killed because he had chosen you, not as prey, but as mate.
The clan erupted in fury.
Voices clicked and hissed, mandibles snapping in disgust.
A human was unworthy, they spat.
A human could not bear the bloodline of warriors.
But your hunter had stood firm, shoulders broad, his low growl filling the air.
“No,” his translator barked out in a rough imitation of his voice. “Mine.”
The Elders’ judgment came fast, if you wished to stand together, you would face the Trial of Bond.
Only by surviving the trials could you prove that a human and a hunter could truly belong to one another.
That night, as you sat by a small fire in the makeshift shelter he had built, you whispered.
“What happens if we fail?”
He turned his mask toward you, a series of clicks rumbled in his throat, then the harsh voice of his translator spoke.
“Death. Both.”
Your stomach knotted, but when he extended a clawed hand, you found yourself taking it.
His palm was rough, scarred, yet the touch was careful.
“Then we cannot fail,” you said softly.
He gave a sound, something almost like a purr, and squeezed your hand once.
The first trial was the hunt.
You ran with him through the forest, your legs burning as you followed his lead.
He moved like a shadow, silent and sure, and when you stumbled, he caught your wrist, pulling you upright with surprising gentleness.
The prey was a beast with tusks like spears, its hide thick as stone.
You watched him circle, his plasma caster charging with a whine.
“No,” you whispered urgently, pointing to the ridge above. “Drive it there. The ground is weak.”
He tilted his head at you, then gave a soft clicking sound that almost resembled amusement. Obeying, he lured the beast with a taunting roar. You ran ahead, loosening the rocks.
When the creature charged up the slope, the ground gave way beneath it, and it fell hard.
Together, you struck, your blade to its throat, his spear through its chest. The kill was yours, shared.
When he tore a tusk free, he pressed it into your hand.
“Warrior."
You could not help the smile tugging at your lips.
“Not bad for a human, right?”
His mandibles flexed in what you had come to recognise as laughter.
The second trial was endurance.
The storm broke suddenly, rain hammering down, lightning flashing. Mud clung to your boots, your clothes soaked through.
You swayed, shivering violently, but he stayed close, always at your side. When you fell, he caught you, lifting you with effortless strength.
“Put me down,” you murmured weakly, embarrassed.
“Never,” came the translator’s reply.
His arms only tightened.
That night, you curled up close to him.
His body radiated heat, his breathing slow and steady. You dared to rest your head on his chest, listening to the deep, steady thrum of his heart.
“You could have left me,” you whispered.
His mandibles brushed your hair lightly, almost tender.
“Mine,” he said simply.
The word settled deep in your chest, warming something you had long thought frozen.
The final trial was combat.
At dawn, a rival warrior stepped forward, larger, stronger, his armour marked with many kills.
He demanded proof that your mate’s choice was more than foolishness.
The fight was vicious, metal clashing, roars shaking the air. Your mate met him blow for blow, but the rival pressed hard, slamming him back with brutal strength.
You did not think. You darted in, your blade driving under the rival’s arm where the armour was weakest.
He howled in pain, faltering just long enough for your Yautja to strike. His spear drove through the rival’s chest, ending the fight.
Silence followed, heavy and thick.
Your chest heaved, your blade slick with blood.
Slowly, your mate reached for you, his claws curling lightly around your wrist. He raised your hand high, his deep voice cutting through the quiet.
“Bond. Strong.”
The Elders considered you both for a long moment.
Then, one by one, they raised their spears in salute.
That night, the fire roared high in celebration.
You sat close to his side, his massive hand resting against yours, his presence steady and proud. For the first time, you felt no eyes of scorn, only acceptance.
When he lifted his mask, the sight of his eyes made your heart twist.
He leaned close, his mandibles brushing your cheek in what you now understood was affection.
“No more trials,” his translator murmured. “Mine. Always.”
You smiled, touching your forehead gently to his.
“And you are mine.”
The clan could rage, the universe could burn, but it did not matter.
You had proven yourselves. Together, you had won not only survival, but love.
And nothing would ever break it.
~Masterlist~
ˇAO3ˇ
Wattpad
/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/
Imagine your alien bf being a desperate behemoth who’s only desire to please their tiny human mate. And would go to any lengths especially during intimacy.
The alien had notice the disparity in the size difference amongst you two. And he’d only rut the variety of his texturized tentacle cocks between any free office of your body, from thighs, to chest, to hands, and even the armpit, just to gain relief.
For seldom he’d accidentally break you from the strain of his eager members filling up the small insides of your glistening untouched slit, mouth, and ass.
But now since the both of you were an raging cesspool of hormones. He’d finally forgo his adamant restraint on not ravaging you, a breathy plea falling from his mandibles “You won’t even need to stretch yourself my love, just tell me how you want it.”
His huge claws traced your abdomen, lightly pressing down upon where your womb was making you squirm from his ravenous gaze. “I’ll break myself just to fit inside and make your sweet cunt feel good.” With your hasty nod in welcoming his plan.
Just as promised he’d constrain his pulsating members into thin tendrils. Working wonders messaging the pulpy walls of your heated honeypot.
He’d unknowingly edge and overstimulate you from how his dicks will only swell up like an inflated water balloon. Depending on how many orgasms you have for his many eyes to see.
Cuz no matter how sweet he was, he’d always relish in watching you beg for more.
