#alien egg

You stepped through the airlock. You’d already stripped your flightsuit down to your underclothes, barely more than a crop top and shorts, even so the climate control had you covered in a thin sheen of sweat in moments. Humid, sticky air, just cool enough that you weren’t in danger of overheating. You knew the owners of this station preferred it hotter, but human physiology is what it is.

Rion is a tropical world of shallow, jewel green oceans bordering jungles so dense the light doesn’t reach the ground. A biosphere not delineated laterally, but vertically. The Rionites evolved in the mid-layers, high enough to see glimpses of the stars through the canopy but still deep enough to foray down and reach the precious minerals in the crust of their world.

Minerals you had been sent to barter for.

UNE command had been thorough in your training. You knew the correct honorifics, the proper gestures of greeting, words to avoid when speaking to other delegates. You’d also been given a stern warning: Rionites are a particularly fecund species, one that sees sexual contact like humanity sees a handshake. Possibly some societal holdover from a time when they weren’t the top of the food chain, so needed to keep a steady influx of new members of society to remain stable. Now though, it was causing them problems. Overcrowding on Rion was threatening their delicate ecosystem.

This station was the first of many. A shining home in orbit around their home planet. The UNE sought to secure extraction rights on the planet below. In return the Rhionites would be granted the knowhow and infrastructure required to make more stations like this one. Artificial worlds to save their mother planet from the same fate Earth-That-Was suffered so many generations ago.

You took a seat at a table in front of you, skin sticking to the cool metal. Everything was printed on polymer paper to try and prevent documents rotting away. Clean energy, nondestructive mining drones, terrain rehabilitation, even plans for floating arcologies. Being thorough was the name of the game, and the UNE were nothing if not sticklers for detail. Exiles from your own homeworld, living for centuries auditing every seed, you had to be.

The door opposite you opened. A waft of hot air flowed inside, filling the room with fog as the humidity spiked. A figure cut through the haze, your counterpart. You’d done your homework, even before the atmospheric controls dispelled the fog you knew mostly what he’d look like. Tall, slender bodied. Two arms and legs, though wiry muscled and longer proportional to his torso. Large eyes set high in his face, angled slightly outwards. He’d have a narrow band of binocular vision, but would turn his head slightly to get a good look at you. Below that would be a distinct absence of a nose, then insect-like mandibles suited to chewing on plant fibres. Slits on either side of his neck performed the vital business of breathing.

You stood. The results of this preliminary talk would shape diplomatic relations for months to come. No room for mistakes.

Running through the routine you had memorised, you gave a formal greeting from rote.

A moment passed.

A trilling voice answered you. Echoing the counter-sign you had been trained to expect. Despite your broken pronunciation, this wasn’t going off script just yet.

Until the climate control finally cleared the air and you realised that of the two of you, only one was wearing anything.

“Why do you come armoured?” The Rhionite turned his head slightly, bringing you into the focus of his compound vision “Is this not diplomacy?”

You paused a moment. Then you realised, they likely don’t differentiate between clothing and armour. On a planet where most natural fibres would simply rot off you, why go through the expense of making textiles if not for protection? “In my culture it is customary to cover one's body with fabric. I meant no disrespect”

That drew a smile. At least you hoped the slightly grotesque contorting of the alien’s face was a smile “Aah, to savour the experience. I understand”

He stepped around the table, pushing into your space. One six-fingered hand held your wrist, flattening your palm against the polished aluminium surface as he bent you over slightly “To remove first, like peeling the delicious fruit”

You tried to protest, but found yourself speechless. Watching his other hand as it tugged your top upwards, exposing more of your midriff, then letting your tits fall out. You co-operated as he dragged the sweat-soaked garment over your head, letting it come to rest on your other arm.

Next he knelt down, caressing you slowly as he went. Despite the heat, the callouses on his fingertips drew goosebumps on your exposed flesh. One hand flat on your belly, keeping you pressed back against the bolted-down furniture, the other tugging at your waistband. Her looked up at you expectantly “This covers the…” He struggled for the word

You nodded. You weren’t sure how much of the hot and bothered feeling in you was coming from the too-hot climate, or your colleague knelt in front of you “That covers the genitals, yes”

Another smile. You’re pretty sure that’s what it was “We have much to learn about one another. I look forward to you teaching me”

You looped your thumbs under the elastic of your shorts. There might be some translation errors if you start talking about topics like consent, but you hoped that actively helping him undress you would be enough of a hint that you weren’t just comfortable where you were, you wanted to go further.

He caught your meaning. Or he was going to do this anyway, right now, you’re not sure if it mattered which. Slowly, he slipped the shorts down your legs, one hand caressing your inner thigh as you sat back onto the table, opening your legs for him. More fabric blocked his view of your bare hole, thin regulation-issue underwear, already soaked with a combination of sweat and slick. He didn’t bother taking these off, pulling the gusset aside and sinking two fingers into you. “Pla-cen-tal ma-mal” He sounded out the words, as though this is the first time he’s said them aloud “This is the primary erogenous zone, correct?” He crooked his fingers up inside you, pushing hard against your g-spot. The noise that came from your throat was all the answer he needed. Strong hands, crafted by millions of years of evolution for traversing creeping vines and branches, curling and probing inside you. Once he’d figured out he could use his other hand too, rubbing and teasing your clit, it was all over for you. All you could do was cling to the edge of the table, trying to resist the urge to wrap your thighs around his head and draw him in for a taste.

Then he decided he’d do that for you. Mandibles working over your folds. Tiny rasping mouthparts making you shake and twitch. You lost the battle with your instincts, the soft meat of your legs holding him close as pressure built inside you. Your legs trembled as a groan escaped you. Toes curling, cunt twitching, you felt yourself squirt into the alien’s face.

He kept going, turning your moan into a scream, then a silent howl as you felt more and more of your juices spraying him. He only stopped when you pushed his face away from you.

He knelt between your trembling legs, fixing you with that tilted-head stare as you caught your ragged, laboured breath.

“Was I unsatisfactory?”

You laughed “You were more than satisfactory. I just need to catch my breath”

He nodded, then stood.

You couldn’t help but stare at it. He’d clearly enjoyed himself, a long, thick organ protruded from between his legs having emerged from a hidden genital slit. Looking between it and his face, you could tell he knew you’d seen it. You licked your lips, pulse still racing. That thing would break you in two.

Sod it. “So, in my culture we have this concept of foreplay…”

You didn’t need to finish that thought. You were already in each other’s arms, your legs open, torso angled to better accommodate the sheer length of the beast knocking at your entrance.

It slid into your already-dripping cunt, aided by the sea of slick and squirt lubricating your hole. In one smooth motion he was already knocking on your cervix. Every motion made you gasp, holding him a little tighter as he ground his tip against the muscle barring entry to your womb.

He kept pushing, kept pressing against the resistance inside you.

Tongue lolling, you just clung onto him, ear pressed to his chest to hear the swish-swish-swish of his circulatory system.

You cried out when it pushed past your cervix, feeling the thick organ press through as he began to tense up. Wordless, rhythmic, he twitched. His whole body convulsing. At the same time, you felt him thicken inside you. Something travelled down his member, stretching you even more. A sob of pain escaped as the first one forced its way past your cervix, before depositing in your womb. Then another followed, and another.

Five in total. Five hard lumps nestled inside you before he withdrew, finally letting your body relax. You could feel them, each one the size of a ping pong ball, still keeping your belly full. Subconsciously, you cradled your belly, the mass inside you bringing you a strange sense of comfort despite the lingering ache of being over-full.