He laid outstretched and Y/N stood beside him, observing him while his eyelids begin to flutter open and shut, little groans here and there. Y/N had him sedated but the dosage must have been slightly off because he was not supposed to wake.
“Do not be afraid,” you say.
He was by all standards an earth beauty, Y/N researched it well.
You activate the machines, curious what would happen to an earthling half-awake during the examination. The red and pink photonic lights begin to strobe him. The strobing was important. It aids in the muscle relaxation. He lets out a moan.
You say, “Yes, the strobe is pleasant.” He does not yet realize you are in his head. He goes limp, his brow furrowed in medicated bliss and confusion. The photons are medicine.
“No, no, no,” his mind cries out.
Y/N begins the real examination: the Probe. He shudders and wiggles and knits his thick, black brows. “Be still. You will be hurt if you continue to move.”
“Are you in my head?”
“Shhh.” Is that the right sound? -shhh-? You search his mind, searching for his name. Huh-hud-Hudson?
The earth beauty lies still, his vitals spiking but then relaxing under the light strobes.
Yes, Strobe and Probe. A 1-2 SUCCESS.
You moisten the probe. Slick, it now enters him and his mind breaks into a riot of noise. Y/N, reading his mind hears his thoughts in a high-pitched squeak:
“Huh?! You can’t be serious?!.... hnnng!....no-no-uaghh!...I’m not-I’m not supposed to like this…mmm…kimochi (Korean ver.)…Eh? Eh? (Canadian ver.)”
Y/N has never had a specimen like this before. This luscious beautiful being was enthralling. “We will retrieve a tissue sample,” you say.
“Not t-there!” As he lets out a husky shivering moan, he also produces a fascinating liquid from his sexual appendage.
“Ah, yes you mate with this,” Y/N says to his mind as your suckers go to feel his special member, now swelling to a longer length.
He exhales a “Fuck” before his mind goes blank, passing out then as you let the machine continue its work.
“Beautiful!” Y/N says. Yes, the results are prodigious. What a man-ling! What a beautiful, succulent man-ling!
You cannot help but to enjoy examining him with your long eager green suckers. What soft membranes he has, you think. What plush lips. Ah, although he is half conscious, he is also eager to finish the experiment for you. His hips buck with the machine. The sticky sample he releases is more than plenty. You forgo jarring it and storing it with the other samples.
“Wake up,” Y/N says to his mind. You slap him with your sucker, the goo you produce on his flushed cheek is proof that you are excited.
Bizarre. We do not mate with humans, Y/N thinks. Unless...
The beautiful man-ling wakes up then. “Fuck!” he yells in his mind. If Y/N could produce a human smile you would have then.
“You are a stupendous creature!” Y/N says with endearment, ogling him with your big eye, wishing it was bigger so you could see even more of this precious man-ling.
He lifts his head before letting it slam on the metal slab.
“Poor thing,” you wrap your long slimy feeler around his neck, using another to push the button to your dome helmet. Y/N finds that they are longing to kiss him in the earth way. Your long-pointed tongue exits your mouth in spitty slather and enters the slip between his swollen lips. He moans around it, his arms finding a way to embrace your body.
“I will mate with you, I think I love you” you say.
“Yes, yes ok yes,” he breathes out. "What is your name?”
“I am Y/N."
"Y/N?" he gives Y/N a bewildered look.
“Y/N.” Y/N confirms.
"I am Hudson.”
“Yes, I know being. I know.” You stroke his head and body with your feelers, all 9 of them wrapping around him. “Come to me!” you sing. Hudson wraps his limbs tighter around you now.
Y/N and Hudson make love, your goos, green and white, bathing each other in the pink and red strobe light. Poetry.
“World peace,” he moans. “Mmmyeah this is fucked up.” He adds, breathy, “Kinky.”
His little sayings are delightful, and Y/N just continues to goo him and probe him with your feelers, puckering him all over, leaving a trail of green coloring on him.
FADE TO BLACK, Youre still gooing him. FADE AGAIN TO BLACK. – probe – FADE TO BLACK ONE MORE TIME - goo - AND THEN ANOTHER -
“I need a fucking cigarette,” he gripes when you are both finished. Y/N searches his mind for what that is.
“Stay with me forever” Y/N whispers in his ear with your telepathic English.
“Your English is so good,” he says. “I'd fucking love to as long as I get a cigarette.”
You see a structure in your mind now.
“7-eleven?” Y/N asks.
“Yeah,” he grins, exhausted and glittering in the lights.
“Anything for you, my sucklette.”
Y/N slithers off him and he reaches for you, eager for the goo.
“We will have many coituses,” you reassure him. You fly your pod and park it in the 7-eleven lot. The nighttime on earth makes the black pavement shine with multicolor aesthetics.
“Such a vibe,” he says. “I'll be right back.” Y/N offers him his jeans. He looks so beautiful in this moment, your goo and his goo dripping off his athletic earthling body.
Y/N uses their telepathy then to watch him, not afraid that he will leave you. It is simple to observe him.
He's a princess in this world or so you have been informed, you do not know what this means. You love him. You know he loves you.
The beautiful earthling Hudson stumbles into the door, smearing goo on the glass. The man at the counter, stoned on plant material stares at him, blinking rapidly and rubbing his bloodshot eyes. He sees Y/N's pod. “Bruh I'm tripped like fuck,” he says. This 7/11 man is also beautiful to you. You like his greasy shirt and droopy eyes.
Dryly, Hudson says, “Pack of Marlboro Reds” as he drips onto the floor, a puddle of gleaming goo developing around his bare white feet.
The man reaches behind him, grabs a pack and sets it on the counter.
Hudson grabs them, ripping the package open with his teeth. He grabs one of the plentiful fire sticks on the counter, and with a shaky hand lights the small cylindrical cigarette. He deeply inhales, a great big smile now on his face.
It seems a long moment as Hudson takes another deep hit of his cigarette and then another, and exhales a cloud of smoke. He is moist. Deep in love, you read his mind to see what beautiful thoughts lurk there. He thinks, admiring the feeling of your goo on him, “This is like being slathered in COSRX’s Advanced Snail 96 Mucin Power Essence.” He loves being moisturized.
The man at the counter blinks at him and says, “Hey you can't smoke here.”
He takes another drag and says, “Hey, that's my line."
and hey! Did you know I do weekly exclusive comics on tinyview? There’s no paywall or anything, they’re all completely free to read https://tinyview.com/the-other-end
From “The Fantastic Four Battle… the Mad Thinker and His Awesome Android!” in Fantastic Four #15, June 1963. Stan Lee plot, Jack Kirby pencils, Dick Ayers inks, Stan Goldberg colors, Artie Simek letters.
