Alien Instigation

Emilia was dismissing her assistant at the entrance to the desert laboratory as she straightened her thick, black business-nerd glasses over the contrasting bright-blue of her eyes. She wouldn't require his help inside; everything she'd need would be waiting in its proper place for her, easily accessible in an organization system she couldn't help but be proud of. Emilia Hope was a serious woman. She had been a biologist at the facility for over three years now, and was sure she would soon get the promotion she deserved.

Despite having her own separate area in the lab, she was often still relegated to doing grunt work and some of the more dangerous projects. Because of this, her section was shielded from the rest to prevent any radiation or poisonous gases from leaking in the event of an accident. And for that reason she would be able to take her current charge, a vial of shiny, disgusting fluid, directly to her own station and get right to work analyzing it.

The truth is she only wanted her assistant in 'the field' with her in the first place to help her feel more comfortable around the man with whom she was temporarily assigned to work. He wasn't a biologist himself--he wasn't a scientist at all. Patrick was a paranormal investigator. A true 'lights in the sky', 'the truth is out there', 'beam me up' type; or something--she didn't watch much television.

At least that's what she expected him to be like. But throughout the entire trip he had only come across as mildly eccentric at worst. He was far more normal than the couple they were questioning about their alleged UFO experience. "We seen't the saucer," reported the old man. "It landed just past the barn yonder, and was off straight into the air again by the time we came around with the flashlights. Mornin' come, we found this slick out here. No doubt they were aimin' to blight the livestock."

"That's if'n it weren't our own selves they were after." added the man's wife wisely. "They'd just as soon takepeoplefor their unearthly experiments given half a chance." The man nodded.

The dark blue fluid was pooled on a very small section of ground that had been baked solid by something very hot, very recently. Emilia suspected a hoax. As she bent over the puddle, pushing her round cleavage up above her partly unbuttoned lab coat for Patrick--she couldn't help herself; the 'believer' was fucking hot--the liquid rippled. Just the wind of course. But Patrick seemed interested in the movement--both movements. The hard earth made it particularly easy to collect up the small puddle and store it safely in the large vial they'd brought for the purpose. Patrick had politely explained to the couple that they shouldn't let their imaginations go too far just yet. He'd seen stuff like this turn out to be nothing time and time again, but he'd be sure to let them know anything he could learn about the substance.

At first the assignment had made Emilia angry. Apparently Patrick had some connections, some strings he could pull with the higher-ups at the lab--her bosses. She had been the obvious choice for the humiliating job. But readjusting her tight no-nonsense blonde--except at the roots which were darker--ponytail, her full, bright-pink lips smiled curiously as she walked through the halls and up the steps to the second floor and tapped in the pin to the door of her work area, wondering if she shouldn't try to ask Patrick out. She might not want to be seen in public with someone of his... unscientific reputation.

She wore her lab coat often outside, and almost always inside the lab, but took it off now thinking maybe Patrick would like to see a bit more. He had been the perfect, polite gentleman throughout the trip, and looked just the part of a sexy detective in formal attire complete with a long sleeved button up shirt and tie. And, unlike most men, he seemed to take her seriously as a professional despite the hourglass figure she was sure he could easily make out under her coat. Hanging it by the door, she removed the vial and placed it carefully on her desk.

Having dirtied his own formal attire in the mud behind the barn, Patrick was changing into a second set of clothes he had kept in his car. She was down to her own white button up shirt--short-sleeved--and black business skirt--almost knee length--each of which was wrapped tightly around two very obvious and very sensual womanly curves. She undid one more button of the shirt so the edge of her black lace bra, already somewhat visible through the white top, was just showing above and between the loose, hanging collar.

Biting her lip, she waited nervously to see his reaction. Would he stare? Would his jaw drop? Would he barely stammer a sentence out? When the door beeped she walked over to answer it with an air of nonchalance, determined to show complete indifference to her own state of dress. She pressed the button and the door slid open. Andshestared. Andherjaw dropped. And she barely stammered a sentence. "Welcome ba... kwee... have a lot, here... um, a lot of work to uh, to get to." She was staring at his shorts through the whole sentence ashenonchalantly showed complete indifference to his own state of dress.

The off-white shorts must've been tennis shorts from the eighties--and the smallest pair he could find at that. The only difference was that the dark-green linings at the lower hem of these shorts were tighter. Wrapped around his thighs, it was a good thing they were tight or she was certain his long dick would be hanging out from the bottom now. As it was, instead of aiming down his leg and out to freedom, it was bunched up on his left hip at nearly a ninety degree angle, over from the base, then straight down to the hem. Veins and mushroom rim, every interesting detail, showed forth clearly through the tight linen, down to each of the few wrinkles in the large sack ornamenting the opposite side. He wore a brown tank-top above with one word on it in capitals--'TITTIES'.

Emilia was flustered--both from the sudden heat in her body, and from the realization that Patrick was a complete douche bag.What kinda person would flaunt their parts like that?she thought. She glanced down to her own cleavage. But Patrick's part was much more defined than hers--and that immature shirt.

She adjusted her glasses. "Well then, let's check out our goo. I mean the uh, the substance." She turned and headed to the desk.

Patrick was polite enough not to mention the unintended innuendo as he followed behind. Instead he simply replied, "Wow you got areallynice rack!"

She stopped dead and turned. "What?!"

"You have great tits. I'm glad you decided to let em breath a bit."

She took too long deciding what to scream at him, until she remembered the sway he somehow held with her bosses. "That's not!... You!.... Th-thanks, I guess. We should probably get to work and get this done with though, don't you think?"

"Oh I don't know. I don't mind spending a little extra time here if it means I can watch you moving that body around."

"...Well I'd like to get out of here as soon as possible if you don't mind." She turned back to the desk and poured the vial into a large, clean petrie dish, eight inches wide and less than an inch high. He was too much for her to think about right now. He would obviously fuck her if she wanted him to. She would certainly never go out with him now of course... she was pretty sure she didn't want to fuck him anymore either... probably. Doing her best to clear her mind, she applied multiple tests to the substance--light, UV, different sound waves, and so on--none of which had any effect, while Patrick circled around her, making occasional noises of approval over her form.

When nothing worked, Emilia leaned forward on the desk, exasperated. "I know," said Patrick, "we could try direct stimulation." He quickly pressed his downward vertical bulge deep between her pronounced butt cheeks--as deep as he could through her tight skirt--and slid his hands under her shirt from her waist, up her belly, and right up to cup the underside of her bra.

"Oh my god! What are you doing?!" In her shock, she lurched and popped the top two closed buttons off of her shirt, completely exposing her bra. She pushed him off but before she had time to say or do anything more, the substance rippled in front of them.

"Did you just kick the desk or something?"

"No I didn't."

"Are you sure? You jumped in surprise at the size of my cock."

"I did not jump at the size! I only jumped because of where it was. Not to mention your hands. Your cock is not...." She glanced down at it a few times while talking. "It's sma... it's.... Fuck you! I'm sure I didn't kick the fucking desk!"

"Ha, ha. Okay I didn't mean to offend your female sensibilities. If you say you didn't kick it, you didn't."

"You didn't mean to offend....?"

"Look, if you didn't kick the desk..."

"I didn't!"

"Well then that means the alien responded to what we were doing. Right?"

"Of course not! There is no alien. The substance responded to... to something we have to figure out, that's all."

"Alien or not, it responded to us. Look lets just..." he grabbed her tits from behind but she immediately turned and pushed him back. "Look, I'm serious. Let's do what we did before and see what happens? Then we'll know and I'll shut up about it huh?... C'mon it'll take ten seconds, twenty at most."

"Oh my god, fine whatever. Hurry the fuck up." She bent over the desk and he positioned himself as before, hands under her shirt, only now he was squeezing her full bra and rubbing his cock up and down between her ass cheeks."

"Do you have to do that?"

"Can't hurt. There! It's rippling!"

"That's barely anything. Nothing like last time." She leaned in closer for a better look and a dark gray-blue tentacle shot out of the dish and went for her shirt. She jumped back gasping as the tentacle succeeded in ripping one more button from her top, and receded quickly back into the shiny ooze. "What the fuck?!"

The man stood back laughing, "Ha! Alien! I told you so!"

"That still doesn't prove..."

"Oh no? Okay. How about this." With only a few buttons remaining to hold her shirt together, he easily ripped the whole thing off from behind.

She turned and began to yell for her shirt but stopped at the clear thought of a new voice. "Beautiful female human, I cannot come forward without your help. I need you to massage precious life energy back into me."

As she stared at Patrick, wondering if he heard also, he confirmed as much by telling her she had better do it if they want to learn anymore about this thing. He then motioned at the goo she was turned away from. "Penis."

"What?" She turned around and there indeed, hanging over the edge of the petrie dish, was a gray-blue, three-inch long, skinny, flaccid alien penis. It was similar to a small human penis, including a rimmed head, except that even limp, it appeared jointed like a finger. She stared at it a good long moment processing. Finally she spoke up, no longer able to deny the extra-terrestrial's existence. "Don't be ridiculous, Patrick. We can clearly speak with it now." She addressed the petrie dish, "We only want to talk to you, possibly help you. We want to know why you're here and..."

"I require energy. I can waste no more on communication until you have restored my body. I beg you, help me." She tried explaining to it that what he was asking just wasn't proper, but got no response.

"'Not Proper'," echoed Patrick. "This is it's life we're talking about. Surely you can stand a little hand-job to save this thingslife?" He shuffled up next to her and started rubbing a big ass cheek. "A little massage is nothing, see? Don't you want to learn about it? How about that promotion you mentioned wanting?"

"I told youthatwhen you were still acting like a civilized human being. Get your hand off my ass." He switched to the other cheek as she continued. "I don't see why I have to be the one to do it anyway."

"Really? You don't notice a big difference between us?" He rubbed his bulge in her cheeks again to remind her. "Women are made for this. He knows it."

"Your an idiot. Stop that." He let go with his hand but continued rubbing with his dick. "Fine," she conceded, "I'll do it. You stand over there!"

He left off rubbing and moved over to her left side. "Lift it up with one hand and rub it under the head with your other..."

"What the hell is wrong with you?! I know how to give a hand-job!"

"Good to know."

"It's never gonna helpyou."

As though it was her intention all along, she lifted it up and rubbed the underside of the small mushroom's rim and it soon began twitching--a mechanical twitch occurring mostly in the 'joints' of the unappealing blue cock. Each twitch brought not only length, but flexibility as well, and as she began to stroke it, it curved every which way, and she struggled to predict which way it would point next. Luckily the shine seen on the liquid substance, translated into slip on the solid, or she didn't think she could have made the wagging appendage very happy at all.

'Predicting' the way the little dick would curve--at full length it was still only four and a half inches--turned out to be unnecessary. By focusing more on any one side, she could usually coax it into turning that way. Thus she began to make the ticklish prick calm down until she was able to give it a proper 'massage'. When a new, subtler, twitch began, one that alternately contracted and extended the shaft with increasing speed, she coaxed it over in the direction of Patrick.

By the time his suspicion regarding the cock's new mechanic became a full fledged thought, the creatures cum--neon green and more opaque than a human's--was in the air describing an arc that was destined to land somewhere on his face. It missed his mouth.

But Emilia was immediately cracking up. "Hah, Oh my god! I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't know, really. Hah ha!" He was furious, cursing her and yanking her bra down while she continued laughing. He yelled saying she did it on purpose, and his mouth ended up spending so much time open, that when they both noticed the full, four foot tall, alien body standing in front of the desk, his mouth was full of cum anyway.

They stared at the familiar being. He was the spitting image of the classic 'little green man'--big eyes, slit mouth, tiny two-slit nose, holes for ears, pointy chin, etc--, except he was a light blue-gray, like the penis he still retained, and which, spent now, hung a mere two inches in front of slightly darker balls. The little balls were so tightly bunched up, that the tiny dick--and tiny dicks never hang straight down--actually extended ever so slightly farther down than they.

"My great thanks. I would not have been able to manifest without your assistance. But I'm afraid it is not over." Emilia was putting her bra back up over her tits. "Please voluptuous earth-woman, leave your garment down."

"I certainly will not. You're here now, I see no more reason to embarrass myself further. You should be thankful..."

"Iammost thankful. But this is only my first solid form. Without more energy I will whither in no time. This solidity will flake away becoming irretrievable forever. I must attain the third and final form of my being within the hour if I am to live. I must insist. If you continue to help me I will answer every question you might pose. But if you refuse, then I must for my own sake refuse you as well, in the hopes that in time you will be convinced to return to my continuing aid."

"I refuse." Emilia twisted trying to hold her bra up as Patrick angled around attempting to pull it back down. The alien sadly dipped a hand into the petrie dish, and he poured in.

"What the fuck? It just wants to see your tits! Great tits by the way." He was still trying to get a better look, pawing at her shoulder straps and trying to maneuver around to the back clasp, while she turned left and right. "I only caught a glance actually. Were those tear-drop nipples?"

"'Tear-drop?' No. Stop it! Hands off!" Tired, he backed off and she went on. "I'm serious. It's not gonna stop at my bra, and you know that. 'Three forms?' I don't even know what that means and we can't even ask it cause it won't talk until we agree."

"WellIalready agree."

"He hasn't wanted anything from you!"

"Well I heartily agree to seeing more ofyouthen."

"This isn't funny!"

"And I definitely wouldn't be laughing. Look at your body. Fuck!" She watched him rub his cock up and down over his shorts, and fondle the balls on the other side, while he kept talking. "But there's a lot more at stake here too. The first recorded conversation with an alien life-form? This was a lucky find. No one's gonna get another chance like this for a long time. This is gonna change the whole world. You want to be thought of as a scientist? You think your bosses are gonna like you fucking this up? And don't forgetmyconnections. I'm sure not gonna pretend it ain't your fault when all you had to do was show some skin!"

"You're an asshole! What if it wants... more than that?"

"Iwould. You're theperfectfucking sex toy! I can't have a single thought about you that doesn't involve what your insides feel like! I want to be in every one of your holes at once! And look at your put-a-cock-in-me face!" His dick was rock hard now as he continued rubbing it, and pointing directly to the left in his shorts, until it had to curve back slightly, having extended farther in that direction than the rest of his body. "You aresomuch more woman than most. Bam, Toy! Toy! Toy!" he indicated her various parts. "You're in this world to please cocks lady, everything about you screams it."

"That doesn't exactly turn me on dumb-ass!", she yelled. "You're the most misogynistic, sexist man I've ever known!" She repeated a few more times in her head--cause she was so sure about it--It doesn't turn me on. It doesn't turn me on. She looked down at her feet. "What if it... what if it actually tries to fuck me?"

"God, I would love to see.... ah, fine. Look, I'm sure it won't come to that. He's an alien right? He can't need anything specific, just sexual energy. We can find a way to steer clear of anything too... embarrassing, huh? We can try anyway."

She watched him casually play with his balls a little more. "Okay," she barely mumbled.

"What?"

"Let's get the little martian out here."

"Oh I highly doubt he's a martian. Martians have a...." She glared at him. "Never mind." To the petrie dish then, "We're ready to play along little dude, anything you want. Bring your finger dick back out here man!"

The alien poured out from the dish in precisely the reverse fashion of his recent entrance. Standing in front of the desk, he thanked them for their cooperation, expressing his own hopes that it wouldn't take too long. "Human male..."

"Patrick. She's Emilia."

"Patrick, remove Emilia's top garment."

"I can take off my own bra, thanks."

As she reached back the alien held his hand up. "Stop. Please. My way will produce the fastest results. Patrick, if you will."

"Fuck yeah." He unclasped Emilia's bra as she rolled her eyes, and he lifted it over her head, so that her breasts would be lifted with it, dropping back down into place for the alien's viewing pleasure, and he threw it far behind him. Emilia blushed a bit as her tits bounced and bobbed into their natural resting position.

Her pink areolas, almost as bright as her lips, were not tear-drop shaped. But theywerevery oval, with the tops almost coming to a point unlike the smoother bottoms. They were also tilted drastically, tops out, bottoms in, more so on the left which was at a full forty-five degree angle. The bumps on the left were numerous and spread evenly across the entire disc, while those on the right were fewer, and gravitated toward the center with the nipple itself. The actual nippleswereas bright as her lips, and though wide enough to draw attention, and reaching far forward off the surface of her skin, were neither rounded nor cylinders, instead rising gradually rather like a remaining high plateau from an otherwise crumbled mountain. Each smooth breast was almost perfectly round, with just enough droop--less curved on top and bulging out slightly at the sides of the bottom--to show that she was not in reality a perfectly made sex toy, but a very real--and very embarrassed--breathing woman. The alien penis twitched and turned and stretched above the tight balls.