Summary: Fell in love with an alien, sci-fi / a little touch of horror
Disclaimer: This story is, to my knowledge, not based on real events, all persons appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
He opens his eyes and it takes a few minutes to realize who he is ... his name Tim ... Where he is ... he is in a nightclub on Saturn 15, although it’s a mystery why they call the planet that way, it doesn’t even look like Saturn. The only thing he cannot remember is why he is here. And how long he has been here.
He tries to sit down and a hand takes him in his neck and yanks his head back.
“Hello, my favourite pet.” A sultry, male voice hums behind him and he freezes as a hand, covered in rings and chains, slowly moves up along his stomach to his chest. “Ready to serve me again, honey?”
Serve? Serve what? Has he taken the job of a waiter since he’s here? Did he get drunk? And pass out? Happened to him before. Would explain the lapses in memory. The nails on the hand are long and sharp and painted black as the night and they leave tiny red scratch-marks as they now slide back down over his belly and between his legs to grab hold of his swollen cock.
His breath hitches and behind him he hears his Master, yes, the man is his Master, laugh softly.
“Still ready as always, aren’t you, my pet?” Tim’s back rests against a hairy chest. He knows, the man behind him owns him. And that he cannot escape, only, he cannot remember why not. Tim lets his head hang back so he can inhale the intoxicating scent from the man’s body. He loves that scent.
Looking over his shoulder he sees a pair of green eyes in a pale face surrounded by dark hair. And to Tim this man is the most amazing creature he has ever met. He had been warned about getting infatuated with the Gaels, little is known about them, even though they look surprisingly human.
But with the hand stimulating him to push back against the hardness in his back, thinking is somehow not an option right now. He whimpers like a little puppy when his Master takes his hand away and his Master, still behind him, grabs his chin and forces him to look at the bar, across the room. There is a young man, around 35 years old, and Tim can hear his Master smack his lips and whisper:
“That man in the red... clothes.... I want him .... and you.... in your bed.... I’ll join you.... Get him.” Tim slips off the couch and approaches the man at the bar.
“Hi. Looking for company?” Tim’s voice is soft and velvet-like and the man at the bar looks at Tim’s body. He is allowed to do that, this is after all a brothel.
He is not surprised by Tim’s showing up, or that Tim is naked except for the traditional Gaels jewellery that he must wear. All the inscriptions are in the ancient Gaels-language, strange curly marks and numbers, the chains are crossing Tim’s chest and upper-arms.
“I wouldn’t mind some company.” The man smiles and for a moment Tim is mesmerised by it.
He blinks as if for a moment he is somewhere else and then, softly, he says:
“Leave while you can, don’t fall for the Gaels.” But his words get lost in the clanging sound behind the bar. The man is distracted and when he turns back to Tim he smiles:
“I have a room. Number 5.” He hasn’t heard what Tim said. Tim nods, that is a good room, a good bed.
“My Master will watch us.” He says pointing at the Master nodding benevolently on his couch. The unknown man nods back. If he considers it weird at all, he just supposes it’s part of the Gaels culture.
The room is small, but Tim doesn’t need much space. His hands caress the body of the man and he allows the kisses and touches, until he sinks to his knees to wrap his lips around the man’s cock and he starts to suck. Only two months ago he would never have done this, now, it arouses him for he knows what will come.
The door opens and his Master comes in. Without a word he takes the long cape, that he is wearing, to wrap it around himself and then he sits down on the large chair at the end of the bed. Tim doesn’t stop sucking or licking for a moment, the man however stops in shock at the sudden intrusion. His Master however smiles confidently.
“I’m merely here to observe ... That you treat my pet with care ... He is well trained ... And expensive.” The man shrugs and then he forgets about the Gaels man as he puts Tim on the bed, spreads his legs and without another word pushes inside. Tim is of course prepared, but that doesn’t make it less painful. And then the man moves.
At first he penetrates Tim over and over again while Tim is on hands and knees. The man is hard, bigger then Tim anticipated and very forceful and Tim moans in pain. The pain takes his breath away, but the man is relentless. Suddenly halfway he stops, orders Tim to turn around. Lying on his back, Tim waits for the inevitable. The man moves, sighs, moans and pushes deeper, harder, faster.
From the corner of his eye Tim sees his Master slowly get up and approach the bed. The man on top of him is unaware of what is coming. He is close, so close. One more thrust and then release hits him as he shoves himself deep into Tim. At the same time he feels an incredible pain as ten tentacles attack him at the same time.
The Gaels knows that, at the peak of the orgasm, the blood of the humans is the most delicious and the Master eagerly drinks the man dry as Tim watches on, caught between horrible fascination and morbid pleasure. And the jumbled pieces of the jigsaw puzzle in his head fall in place. He knows again why he is here.
He got here two months ago and the Master had caught him. But like the Gaels can take life, they can keep you under their spell. Their pheromones are too strong to resist and as long as you are close to them your are lost in your desire for their bodies. And the Master is no exception. The scent of him can drive Tim wild and he surrenders his soul and his body every time his Master asks.
He needs his Master like a drug. He cannot eat, he cannot sleep, he only lives to serve his Master. Now, the Master looks down on the willing body of his pet and Tim surrenders to him, feeling the tentacles move around and inside of him, not to take his blood, but to arouse him to no end, because that entertains the Master.
Tim suddenly comes hard and fast and the Master keeps stimulating him until he cries and begs him to stop. Then Tim turns over and falls asleep. His body is giving up faster and faster. The Master smiles. What Tim doesn’t know is that every time it’s getting harder and harder to remember who he used to be, because slowly the man he used to be is erased.
Soon Tim will no longer remember his name, or where he came from or how long he has been here. All he will remember is to serve his Master. Just a few more nights, a few more surrenders. Then this ‘human’ will no longer have a name, a background and all the pieces of the Jig-saw puzzle will be gone forever.