Excessica Anthology BOX SET Winter (64 page)

Yet
her torso was now thoroughly human, in form and color. Only her head was alien.
He also knew that her intellect was closer to human than to animal. She was no
beast, and she was tempting.

It
also occurred to him that there was really no way for her to prove herself
except
by interacting in this manner. It might not be solid proof, but it was a step.
If she would do this without attacking him, there was at least the chance that
she could be trusted further.

But
how could she know what human sex was all about? As far as he knew, her species
did not practice sex. They must have some other way to reproduce. Maybe they
budded. So she was simply trying to show her willingness to interact with him
in whatever way he wanted. She knew from the calendar that he liked the human
female form, so she was emulating it. How would she feel if she knew what he
would like to do with such a form?

Well,
actually, maybe she did, because he had read erotic fiction to her, where the
women were always lovely and eager. How much of that had she really understood?
Maybe more than he had supposed.

“Medusa,
do you know what sex is?”

She
shook her head, then nodded: she had a notion, but knew that there was much she
still didn't know.

“Do
you even have sexes?”

There
was no reaction. That meant that the concept was foreign to her. So her female
form was a blind guess.

“It
is a—a coming together of a man like me and a woman like that.” He
indicated the calendar girl. “They kiss and stroke, and he puts his penis into
her. Do you understand?”

Again
that ambiguous indication. She did not know enough.

He
had to be more specific. “She has a vagina, a—a hole, here,” he said,
touching the crotch area of the calendar girl. “He has a penis, here.” He
touched his crotch. Then, realizing that this was hardly sufficient, he opened
his fly and brought out his member.

She
looked, but still did not understand. He knew why: his penis was limp, in no
condition to penetrate anything. In the erotic fiction it was always big,
thick, long, and hard. She did not recognize his meager example.

Then
he got an idea. He put his member away and brought out his cell phone. He
punched in the code for one of his favorite erotic videos, a remarkably virile
bare man having at a marvelously endowed bare woman. “Can you see this?” He
held the little screen up before her face.

Yes.

“Watch
what the man and woman do.” He played the video. The man approached and kissed
the woman's mouth, then kissed her breasts. Her nipples expanded and his penis
rose to moderate erection. She took her turn, licking his member and taking it
briefly into her mouth. Her attention caused it to swell further. Then she lay
down on the convenient bed and he inserted his now fully erect penis into her
cleft, slowly at first. When he was well inside, he thrust and thrust,
endlessly, in the manner of such productions. She wriggled and moaned,
pretending that every thrust evoked almost unbearable pleasure. It was the
standard fantasy.

Medusa
watched intently. Was she getting it? She seemed to be assessing things, as if
fitting the puzzle pieces of his prior reading together with the visual sex of
the video. The two united should provide a fair notion of the whole.

He
jumped the interminable sequence to the conclusion. The man thrust harder,
groaned in rapture, then drew out his glistening member and let it spurt into
space. After that it diminished, and the scene faded out.

“Do
you understand?” he asked. “That is sex. Men like to do it with women, only
they prefer to ejaculate inside her, not into space. When you take the form of
a human woman, I would like to do it with you.” Oops; he hadn't meant to say
that last. But he realized it was true.

She
considered briefly. Then she pointed to his crotch.

What
could he do? He brought out his penis again. Now it was half erect. The very
thought of her seeing the erotic video had turned him on. “When a man and a
woman are ready for sex, his penis gets hard,” he said, “as you saw. Mine is
not ready yet.” Because he was in serious doubt about the propriety or sanity
of what he was doing.

She
put a hand against the bars. “Mmmm?”

Again,
what could he do? He had to be sure she understood. She might chomp it off, but
it was a necessary gamble. He stepped up close and put his penis through.

She
touched it, stroking it with surprising gentleness. She closed her fingers
about the shaft and squeezed delicately. It sprang to full erection, exactly as
in the video and the readings.

She
nodded. She resumed her posture against the bars, her crotch within reach. She
understood what he wanted, and she was willing.

He
made his decision. He fetched his scarf. “Cover your face,” he said, passing it
through to her. Because that was the one remaining thing that made her totally
unhuman.

She
took the scarf and wrapped it around her head, concealing her tentacles and
triple eyes. Now she looked like a heavily veiled woman. She set herself
against the bars and waited sightlessly. This was another act of trust on her
part.

Erik
dropped his trousers and shorts. His erection sprang out anew. He approached
the bars. He bent to kiss the projecting nipples of her breasts, as the erotic
video had shown. She did not flinch. In fact her nipples expanded, exactly as
in the video. She was a quick study.

Then
he guided his taut penis to her crotch. He found her channel, and the hole at
its base. He pushed in.

It
didn't work. She had formed a vagina, but it was far too flaccid to provide
satisfaction. He might as well have poked his penis into warm water. Though
water was not a fair parallel; it was dry.

He
withdrew. “Make it tight,” he said. “And wet. Slippery.” Could she do that?

“Mmmm.”

After
a pause to give her time, he tried again, using his finger. This time the hole
was moist, but so tight he couldn't wedge his finger into it. “Make it a little
looser,” he said, without withdrawing.

Then
he felt the tightness easing. He poked in as deep as the finger would go, and
it was fine. He returned his penis to the site. He was able to push in some
with his thicker member, then more. She felt his penetration, and adapted to
facilitate it, getting it right. Her vagina was slick and firm and warm. He
pushed in further, then all the way, cautiously, concerned lest he be hurting
her. But she remained firmly placed against the bars, evincing no sign of
discomfort. Her channel was tight and hot, like those in the readings. He drew
back a little, then thrust in more vigorously. She reacted internally by
squeezing in rhythmic ripples and pushed her pelvis forward so as to facilitate
his entry. She was getting it!

Then
his urgency overwhelmed him; he thrust with abandon and ejaculated, pulse after
pulse. The orgasm was phenomenal.

“Oh
Medusa!” he gasped. “That was great!”

“Mmmm.”
She seemed pleased. Was he imagining it, too eager to have her like it?

Then
he withdrew, ashamed of himself, as his penis lost hardness and went flaccid. A
drop of drool descended from it. He had had sex with an alien thing!

Medusa
remained unmoving, the scarf masking her head. She still looked exactly like a
woman. A driblet of his spent semen leaked from her cleft. He had really done
it, spurting copiously into her. And already his urge was returning, making his
limp member twitch. Whatever she was, whatever her motive, he wanted more of
it.

And
his commitment was made. He would help her escape the cage and save her life.
He would enable her to return to her world, if that was possible.

And
he would be having sex with her again. He knew he would not be able to resist,
now that she was so human in appearance and action.

“You
have trusted me,” he said. “Now I trust you.”

“Mmmm.”

“But
Medusa, there is far more to emulating a woman than sex. A real woman talks and
walks on two feet. Can you walk? That way?”

She
unwrapped the scarf, gripped the bars with her forepaws and stood. Then she
stepped away from the bars, balancing precariously. And dropped to all fours.
The answer was no.

“We
can say you're mute,” he said. “Unable to speak because of recent surgery. But
you can't go four-footed.” He considered. “Could you walk if I supported you?”

“Mmmm?”

It
was time for his next significant act of trust. He had had sex with her, but he
knew next to nothing of her real preference. Sex was the beginning, not the
conclusion. She could use sex to get him into the cage with her, then kill him.

“Medusa,
I'm going to enter your cell. If you are waiting to kill me, this will be your
chance. Otherwise, I want you to let me hold you up, to walk on two feet.
Okay?”

She
nodded. This was a victory for her, but he could not be certain of its nature.
She would either let him, or kill him. Her claws might look like relatively
harmless nails now, but she had other ways.

He
unlocked the gate and entered the cage. He realized that he had not yet put his
pants back on. He was nervous, but she did not pounce. That meant that she knew
she needed him to facilitate her escape. He hoped.

“Now
let me haul you up to stand with me,” he said.

She
didn't wait. She hauled herself up, and he caught her around the middle before
she could fall. They stood face to face, their bodies in full length contact.
She remained nude and shapely, and her breasts were flattening against him
shirt. Only her completely alien head, now so close to his, betrayed the truth.

“Damn!
I'm getting that feeling again.”

“Mmmm.”

“It's
okay with you?”

“Mmmm.”
She still had the scarf. She wrapped it around her head.

“Thanks.”
He kissed the scarf where her human mouth would have been, willfully deluding
himself. Then he held her firmly at the hips and lowered his head to lick and
kiss her breasts, which were even fuller than they had been. He didn't really
have to do this, as he was already hard, but he wanted to stick to the formula
she was familiar with. Also, it was a real pleasure touching them, enhancing
his urgency.

Then,
standing, no bars between them, he bent his knees to lower his torso just
enough, used one hand to fit his penis to her cleft, and angled it in. He put
both hands on her rounded buttocks, drawing her in close. He thrust, and his
member rose eagerly up into her pelvis. She squeezed in that rhythmic way she
had, making it as good for him as she could. He could not remember a human
woman being as obliging in this manner, outside and inside. Only the ones in
the erotic fiction, significantly. He thrust, and thrust again. His edge was
off, because of the prior session, but he felt the orgasm gathering in the
depth. The third one did it, and he erupted, spewing more juice into her belly.

Then,
remaining embedded, he hugged her close and kissed her scarf. In that moment,
he loved her a little. He had done it, and she hadn't killed him. “Thanks!”

“Mmmm.”

His
diminishing penis dropped out. “Here's a detail,” he said. “I put some fluid
into you. It won't make you pregnant, but it has to be cleaned up. Not allowed
to drip on the floor.”

She
withdrew from his embrace, dropped to fours, then lay all the way down. She
curled her torso around, removed the scarf, and put her mouth to her cleft. She
had no tongue; she simply sucked it in. Then her tentacles wiped up the
remaining spill and fed it into the mouth orifice.

“But
we were about to learn to walk,” he said as she concluded. “To see if you can
do it well enough to pass, if I support you.”

She
climbed back to her hind feet. He put his arm around her narrow waist and held
her close against him. “Now I will step forward. Can you match me?”

“Mmmm.”

He
took the step, and she matched him. She had good coordination; she just wasn't
used to walking this way on her own. He took another, and she matched him
again.

Then
he tried letting her do it alone. She was unable to maintain her balance.

“Try
it along the bars,” he said.

She
went to the bars, rose, and walked, holding on. She was doing it. But when she
let go, she lost it. Human beings had taken tens or hundreds of thousands of
years to learn to balance well enough; it was hardly surprising that she could
not manage it in minutes. She could change her form, not her nature.

“Okay,
you can do it with help, of whatever kind,” he said. “But you won't have things
to hold on to everywhere, and you will look clumsy regardless. Maybe I can get
a wheelchair, and say you're ill or recovering from a leg injury.”

“Mmmm?”

“Wheel
chair,” he repeated carefully. “A chair with big wheels, and you turn them by
hand and go where you want. I'll bring one in tomorrow. Meanwhile, the big one:
we need to get you with a human face. Your tentacles can model hair, maybe. But
those three eyes and lack of a nose are a problem.”

They
worked on it, and found a compromise: her third eye descended to where a human
nose would be, its iris imitating nostrils. Her other two eyes reshaped to
resemble a human pair. Her round hole of a mouth—

“Maybe
makeup will cover it,” he said. “I'll bring that too.”

But
then she developed red lips like those of the calendar girl, and the circular
mouth compressed into a horizontal slit. It was becoming human. Her tentacles
lay back flat on her head and turned brown, looking increasingly like a wavy
hairdo.

It
was time for him to go. The post personnel would be suspicious if he overstayed
his time. Civilian workers were normally just as eager to get off work as
military personnel were. Too bad, because he was starting to get the urge
again. His penis was twitching. He started to go for his pants.