Erotic Hitchhier's Guide

Arthur's day was not going especially well. This in spite of the fact that he'd had sex twice and met a girl who was turning out to be rather nice, all things considered. Of course, he'd also 1) been accused of financial malfeasance (by the very girl who was now keen to bestow sexual favors on him); 2) lost his home planet (a quaint carbon-heavy sphere known to its inhabitants as 'Earth'; and 3) been threatened with asphyxiation in the depths of space if he didn't somehow manage to ingratiate himself with a bunch of what seemed like extremely foul-tempered aliens ('alien' being a relative term, of course).

The foul-tempered beings ( he supposed 'alien' wasn't that accurate being that it was their ship) had destroyed his planet, apparently out of concern for humanity's demonstrated aggression levels and their habit of allowing sociopaths to obtain key positions in the political and financial sectors.

Ford hadn't been able to explain to Arthur why no one had implemented similar measures against their current hosts, but then they hadn't had much time for explanations.

And then there was the name of the species -- Vagines. It sounded like a bad pun to Arthur, but according to Ford there were a lot of those floating around the galaxy.

All in all, he really would have preferred to spend about thirty-six hours or so shagging his new sex partner, Agnes, who might not even be attracted to him for very much longer, once Ford's mind whammy, which effectively transformed her into an uninhibited nymphomaniac who only had eyes for Arthur, wore off. He supposed it was shallow to be so obsessed with sex under such circumstances, but he was pretty sure his natural inclinations, untampered with by friendly aliens, would have been to lie on the floor, weeping, so his focus on sexual matters was probably a boon, considering.

He supposed he should also be thankful that he, Ford and Agnes were walking through the lighted corridors of the spaceship of their own volition instead of being dragged kicking and screaming by armed guards. According to Ford, as three unauthorized but certainly detected life-forms, they could easily be reduced to energy patterns and beamed into deep space, or simply never be reconstituted again. It was like Star Trek, if Captain Kirk were known to use cold-blooded murder when dealing with stowaways.

Being summoned meant, again according to Ford, they definitely had "more than a two percent chance to make it out of here with our hides intact." But he would give no other advice than, "Try to make a good impression."

Arthur wished he were in something more presentable than boxers and a bathrobe, and he was sure that Agnes regretted her torn skirt, although thankfully they'd been able to mend her panties with some scotch tape, but neither of them was confident it would hold up.

Still, as the stood at the door of the ship's meeting room, all three made last-ditch efforts to straighten clothes and tame unruly hair, in the futile hope of currying favor with their collective judge, jury and executioner.

(The Vagines are a species whose essence is defined by their astonishing capacity for pure unbridled selfishness. Their name, far from signifying any uniquely feminine characteristics, developed from the (supposedly) affectionate nickname given them by the first anthropologist to compile a comprehensive study of their culture, Zenwad Throckmorton III. He'd taken to referring to them as "selfish, stupid cunts" even in his formal publications, a designation subsequent researchers felt the need to alter, possibly to prevent confusion with the political organization, the Stupid Selfish Cunt Party, whose views are too convoluted to get into here.

Complicating matters was the bizarre fact that they were the only sentient species on record not to have come up with a species-specific self-designation. This denotes a central contradiction of this life-form: completely self-centered, they never-the-less cannot, or have no inclination to, make a name for themselves.)

It is a tribute to the amazing advances in cinematic special effects over the past century that their current host's appearance wasn't a complete shock to either human's systems. A legitimate exobiologist would most certainly have been more startled, mainly because of the overall humanoid anatomical structure of these so-called aliens. For all that, no one was going to mistake them for homo sapiens, and they would almost certainly have been insulted if anyone had.

Their faces were human-seeming enough, each one of the three had what most humans would consider androgynoous, but normal features, and green skin, from the tops of their hairless, round, smooth craniums to their slightly webbed feet. All were naked, with neither primary nor secondary sexual characteristics evident at first or even second glance.

Their skin was smooth in appearance, glistening slightly under the room's lighting, which was a series of hot, naked, ceiling-mounted glass bulbs.

After all that, the last thing Arthur expected to hear came out of the mouth of the one standing in the center of the room. "Friends," it said, seeming very happy. "It's so GOOD to see you in person!"

"You DO want to be friends, don't you?" asked the one on the right. It had a slightly more prominent chin than the others, and its eyes were slanted -- if it were a human Arthur would have thought they had an oriental cast to them.

"It's so difficult to find good friends," said the one on the left. "No one seems to have the time or the inclination." She blinked her eyes rapidly; they were impossibly round and it gave her an ingenuous appearance. She also had an upturn to her nose that Arthur inexplicably found rather fetching. This was puzzling to him; still, better to view them as appealing than be revulsed and offend them.

It was a bit of a shock to both Ford and Arthur that Agnes took it upon herself to reply. "Well, time is something we have plenty of, and I can't imagine we'd be stupid enough to turn down an offer of friendship, in our circumstances."

Arthur noticed Ford flinching at that. He apparently thought her approach was less than optimal, so he launched himself into the conversation.

"What she means is that we bear you nothing but goodwill, and will be glad to compensate you for any inconvenience we've caused, as soon as we've been able to regain access to our, let me say, considerable resources."

The middle one, sporting what could have passed for a Roman nose on a human, and rather full lips, a darker shade of green than the area just surrounding them, let out a small hiss. "Are you saying," she said, obviously irritated, "you don't wish to be our friends?"

Arthur, panicking at the thought of what a refusal of friendship might gain them, effused, "Of COURSE we'd love to be your friends! Ford simply meant we were, um, grateful." Arthur suddenly remembered that, of the three of them, only Ford could possibly have had experience with other species and the protocols inherent in interacting with same. Not to mention he could do cool mind stuff. Dreading what his outburst might have cost them, he asked, "Eh, what exactly would being your friends entail?"

The center one smiled, and licked her full, green lips. Arthur would have sworn her tongue was forked. He was more intrigued than he thought he should be, and less frightened than seemed prudent.

We just like it when people do things for us. Nice things."

The one on the right smiled. She had almost too many teeth, it seemed. "And say nice things about us. Especially how nice and attractive we are."

"And then leave us something to remember you by," said the one on the left, pouting. "'Cause otherwise we'll miss you terribly." It then sighed, in what Arthur, inexperienced human that he was, could only characterize as a feminine manner.

Agnes decided to chime in again. "Why, that sounds like nothing more than you'd expect from a friend." She then turned to Ford, who was glaring at her in an almost tactile manner. "I don't know why you were so apprehensive. These, um, people seem perfectly nice. Maybe they're just a bit lonely."

Arthur immediately thought of all the lonely, needy people he'd met over the years, and how firmly they'd wedge themselves into your life if you weren't careful, but decided this wasn't a good time to bring that up.

*****

Ford sighed. It wasn't that the lizard-like creature lounging on the soft rug in front of him wasn't appealing. For him, that simply wasn't an issue. Thanks to his training in interspecies relations (required before the Manual would hire him) he could, in the course of encountering any of the five billion sentient species catalogued by the Institute for Obsessive Taxonomy, become sexually attractive AND attracted, within five minutes maximum. There were also numerous non-sentient life-forms he could make the adjustment for, but it took longer, and was generally less than rewarding.

No, it was just that some species seemed to have evolved for the sole purpose of making every other species that encountered them want to pull non-essential parts of themselves off their bodies, a puzzling yet near universal reaction to dealing with the Vagine for over, well, the record was twelve hours, but the life-form in question was a sentient form of moss who up till then has been assumed, even by members of its own species, to have no emotions. The average tolerance was three hours for trained diplomats, four for trained anthropologists, and seven for trained psychologists, who have the professional advantage of curtailing any and all interactions after fifty minutes and telling the subject, "Your hour is up."

What made it worse was that inevitably on first contact they came off as quite amiable. There had been for centuries a fiercely debated theory claiming that the Vagines had an unspoken but steadfastly adhered to taboo that every person who'd ever made contact with them invariably broke, thus resulting in passive-aggressive hostility which manifested itself as their insufferable nature. This theory was finally refuted when an open letter to the Vagines, titled, "What Are We Doing Wrong, We're Sorry" was responded to with a letter entitled "When You Call Us Passive-Aggressive It Hurts Our Feelings."

The end result is, when it comes to the Vagines, the galaxy at large has decided we're washing our hair this weekend. The Vagines, having no hair, and no other plans, have decided the rest of the galaxy is collectively a bunch of meanies, but they're still willing to give every single person they meet a fresh chance and a clean slate, and no one has ever been able to dissuade them.

Oh well, thought Ford, maybe I can get it happy enough to let me off at the nearest space-port. Just don't show your irritation.

Aloud he said, "So which gender are you, you bewitching creature?"

Pout. Oh God, it's starting already. Still, it isn't out of hand yet.

"So you don't think I'm feminine enough? Maybe I'm just some freak, trying to pass as female?" OK. "Gender doesn't matter to me" won't work, let's see if I can come up with some workable flattery. "Of COURSE you're feminine. I just get suspicious when I see anyone who looks as good as you. I think, all that beauty couldn't just come from evolution, but I guess you're just naturally gorgeous." Oh, good. I made her smile. That was touch and go for a second.

Speaking of touching..."Do you mind if I get my hands on you? I'll touch you anywhere you want."

Shit. Another pout. "If you really found me attractive, you wouldn't be able to keep your hands off me." Well. That one he'd heard before. Still, he also knew what happened when you touched a Vagine who wasn't ready. Imagine if skunks squirted Super Glue. The scent literally stayed in for years. Only remedy was a full body transplant.

Still, diplomacy was called for. "You're right, baby, it's just I've been stuck with this inhibitor chip. Insurance reasons. Means I can't even make the first move. Always have to ask permission. Believe you me," he said, running his hand up her leg, "that chip weren't in, seeing you would've soaked my shorts, full on."

She seemed to be mollified by his words, and to be enjoying his hands on her. Now if he could just remember whether Vagines like puffs of air or love bites...Caressing her buttocks, he blew gently on her crotch, and was rewarded for his efforts with a warm orange glow.

"Goodness," she gasped, "are you trying to get me in season early? I hope you're worth the eggs..."

Ford's grin was positively lascivious. "A healthy female like you? You could drown me in eggs and still fill five hatcheries."

OK. So far so good. Ford was thoroughly grateful his years on Earth with no refresher hadn't totally wiped out his training. Now was the time for the bites. Three light ones on the back of the neck, just so, to bring out the ridge along the back. Typical Vagine, won't reciprocate, which is just as well, she'd probably take chunks out of me, greedy little bitch. At least she's moaning, giving me SOME feedback, should be ready for mounting soon...

Even though this wasn't his dream date, he still felt a sense of eagerness as the impending act resonated with archaic drives common to all life-forms. Maybe the next few minutes wouldn't exactly be productive (or, more to the point, reproductive) but the simulated (and stimulated) that ancient dance of cellular division and recombination, spurred on by the promise of pleasure and of transcending the limits of physical bodies.

Ford looked down and noted with satisfaction that he was already erect. That was a definite plus about the DILDO. Impotence was pretty much a thing of the past. Anyone could get as big and as hard as they needed. Or as tight and wet. Or as gaseous and/or thixotropic. Or even, in one memorable encounter, detachable.

Of course, some argued that removing the uncertainty removed the excitement as well, not to mention the feeling of accomplishment that could arise after a fuck well fucked. And, although Ford had exaggerated, it was true in fact that the DILDO responded to resistance and rejection with an automatic shutdown. It was configured to recognize every variety of "No," from verbal rejection to a slap in the face. So Ford knew there was always the chance someone would reject him. He figured he was due for it sometime in the next five years. But not tonight.

Of course, the DILDO wasn't quite done with the configuration process. He gave his member an almost wistful glance as it shrunk down to the appropriate length and width. The Vagine receptacle cavity was notoriously small; ensuring a proper fit required that his member take on the approximate dimensions of a child's crayon. Luckily intercourse with them wasn't so much a matter of thrusting as it was of placement.

"My cavity should be accessible by now," she said, with possibly a hint of impatience. "Please place your appendage in there. I hope you will provide me with much pleasure."

Like it'll ever be enough, thought Ford. Placing his penis in the cavity as instructed, he allowed as to how it certainly wasn't unpleasant. He didn't especially enjoy being so passive; more effortful forms of intercourse certainly felt more...recreational. And also more powerful. Nothing like a spent, dazed partner, under you or even on top of you, saying disbelievingly, "Darling, where did you learn to do THAT?!!"

Course it inflated the ego. You could feel like you were a god. It was, frankly, addictive. Which, of course, was the real reason he'd stayed on Earth so long. He was just lucky he hadn't gone completely off the rails and started his own temple. That brought down the inter-galactic police like nobody's business, and that was a big reason why Earth religions had so many martyrs.

But back to the matter at hand, the Vagine exuded chemicals that directly (and pleasurably) stimulated the nerve endings of a large swath of biological entities, of whom Ford's, the Betelgeusians, were included. But this was just a prelude (and an all too brief one) to the main event. Plugging into a Vagine was quite similar to plugging into an electrical socket. The two beings' personal electrostatic charges essentially fed into a makeshift battery, (i.e. the couple's genitals) which charged itself up to a level of quite high voltage but very low amperage. It then discharged itself into both partners, in a manner often pleasurable but but definitely overwhelming to most species; in the Vagines it was both exquisitely pleasurable and necessary for the release of both sperm and eggs. The fact that it only takes on average ninety seconds from initial insertion is difficult for less reptilian species to get used to, and some (Ford being one of the some) view it as not worth the bother.

At least the near unconsciousness that followed the procedure was blissfully quiet. It allowed Ford to feel almost tender towards the limp little she-lizard that dozed in his arms. Of course, once it wore off, he'd get an earful of how it wasn't the best she'd ever had, and what compliments she would have preferred to hear, and what inadvertent insults he'd uttered. And he would need to spend the entire time being apologetic, all the time worrying how his friends were making out.

Ford had decided in this case sheer naivete and unpreparedness were their best weapons against what they were in for. If nothing else, possibly their ineptitude would come off as charming. It was what he'd come to love in humans, at any rate.

*****

Agnes wasn't sure how she should feel about this development. In a whispered, hurried conversation, both she and Arthur had agreed that this was no time for traditional family values to rear their ugly head. They were both most definitely in Rome, and not the one with the cathedrals and the Swiss Army Guard.

Sure, there was a big stupid part of her that would have been flattered if Arthur had said something like, "No woman of mine is going to be ravished by a space creature. I won't hear of it!" The traditional roles and responses were comforting, if nothing else. But the point of a protective male was to keep you and any kids you had alive -- not to get you both killed.

And, of course, the rather rushed nature of their...courtship made it all seem a bit unreal. They hadn't met each other's parents, sworn solemn vows. They'd been thrown together by circumstance, and circumstance stood a good chance of making their union -- such as it was -- permanent. Of course, if they were cast into the depths of space, the foundation of their relationship would swiftly cease to be a relevant topic.

But even so, fucking a lizard creature she'd just met -- this fell a bit outside her comfort zone. As disconcertingly affable as they were acting, she couldn't help but think how helpful the serpent in Genesis was -- at first. Not that she Believed that old story, still...As much as the summary destruction of Earth by aliens seemed to refute every eschatological scenario from every religion she'd ever studied, it also shredded her mental file titled, "Things I'm Unwilling to Believe Are Possible."

She knew asking would be a major faux pas, so she just sincerely hoped this creature didn't sink its teeth into her flesh or drink her blood or -- oh God what if it tried to impregnate her with its alien seed? Calm down, she told herself. Ford had explained that the DILDO is a contraceptive as well as a sexual facilitator. Now, let's just focus on the matter at hand.

"You seem nervous," her new friend noted. "Do you anticipate some aggressive action on my part? My species is not known for being violent."

Right, she thought. Unless you're extirminating an entire planet, or evicting unauthorized passengers. But bringing this up seemed more likely to provoke aggression than to inspire him towards passivity. Nervously, she smiled.