Tags/themes: Nonhuman, foot fetish, foot worship, footjob, humiliation, sci-fi, dubious consent, male/male, gay male, light bondage, control
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A feeling of fear lingered in the pit of my stomach as I was marched down the long corridor from the relative "comfort" of my cell, having been taken captive by the reptilian aggressors that had ravaged the planet I was stationed on. There had been little standing between it and the alien warship as its powerful energy beams easily obliterated the planetary defense forces.
It had only been a matter of time. They were on a tear across the galaxy, their superior technology and numbers overwhelming the defensive capabilities of every satellite outpost in their path. As a technician who helped service the automated sky fleets, the sordid truth was that I was lucky to have merely been taken prisoner.
I could hear their claws clicking on the floor as they marched me down the curved corridor in their spaceship, two in front and two behind. They were slightly taller than me and quite muscular, their scales glimmering when the light hit them a certain way. Eyes with slitted pupils sat just above their blunt, round muzzles, which contained rows of sharp teeth.
Their clothing consisted of a type of simple off-white canvas material that covered their biceps and legs, contrasted with technologically-advanced harnesses and bandoliers, the purpose of which I couldn't quite discern. I imagined they were some kind of personal shield generator or power source for their weapons.
But no footwear. I supposed their large, rugged feet could handle most types of terrain. Curiously, I stole a glance or two at them, never having been this close to these creatures before.
None of these guards were commanders. Those were recognizable by their massive size, their obscene musculature, and their long, thick tails. This race of beings seemed to put a high premium on those types of physical attributes, allowing those with them to rapidly rise through the ranks while the smaller, weaker ones remained perennially at an inherent disadvantage. The smallest, lithest ones, those around my own stature or perhaps smaller, were often relegated to more menial, servile roles, continually pushed and bossed around by their larger superiors, and with little hope of any upward mobility.
It was just the way they were. Barbaric, militaristic, savage, and in stark opposition to the values we held, the tension between them and the rest of the galaxy should have been quite easy to grasp. It was common for other galactic races to assume their emphasis on physical stature over meritorious achievement was a weakness in them that could be exploited, yet they had thus far failed to find an effective way to do it.
One of the guards leaned forward from behind and snorted, causing me to feel his breath on the back of my neck, giving me goosebumps. My wrists sat bound in front of me with a pair of cuffs, activatable via a remote, which obviated the need for physical chains to link them. This was coupled with a similar collar around my neck, metallic gray in color with a lit stripe around it whenever it was activated. It was easily manipulable and that, when turned on, would ensure I was unable to pass through the various force fields throughout the ship's interior. It would also provide them a convenient way to track my location in the event I happened to escape or hide.
How did I know this? It was common knowledge actually. It didn't help me feel any less nervous either. I had heard numerous stories about how they liked to tease and torment their captives, often finding novel ways to break them down and bring them even more into submission, all while ferreting out and toying with their most repressed, darkest impulses and desires with a certain feral cunning.
One of the aliens behind me kept the blunt end of his weapon against my back as he helped march me to whatever grim fate awaited me. While they normally carried large rifles into battle which fired powerful, concentrated bolts of energy that could incinerate anything in their path, they also liked to retain these exotic, bladed pole weapons as well, which I assumed had some traditional or historical significance to them.
There was a time when these creatures only existed in the delirious fantasies of conspiracy theorists and breathless pronouncements of tabloid headlines, not to mention speculative fiction. I only wished that they had remained as such.
The guards marched me through a set of sliding doors and into a large room which looked like a brightly-lit and wide-open oval-shaped lounge. Couches, glass tables, and chairs were scattered around. Several aliens were sitting around the room, lazing about. A few of the couches and chairs had sun lamps over them. I looked around, stunned, finding this completely unexpected. It was oddly cozy-looking for belonging to such a menacing race. What were they bringing me here for?
A group of warriors idled around a large sofa in one area of the lounge, chatting with each other in their native tongue in gruff voices and intermittent low growls. The guards marched me over to them. As I approached, they suddenly stopped talking, taking sight of me and looking curiously at me up and down.
As they did, I looked them over as well. Like the guards, they were slightly taller and larger than me, very muscular, with broad, round muzzles on their faces. They were all armed with their bladed pole weapons, dressed in the simple warrior garbs and harnessing typical of their ranks, and with striking variety in their coloration. While the one on the sofa had dark green scales, the ones standing around it had light brown, blue-green, and olive drab ones respectively. All of them had softer yellow scales on their chests and under their chins, however, the lone exception being the blue-green one with the creamy off-white coloration on his underside.
With their penetrating, slitted eyes and sinister expressions, they almost looked evil, I thought. And sadistic. It was a good thing they were a somewhat known quantity to me already, which helped ameliorate the fear I might have otherwise felt.
Clutching their pole weapons in their large, clawed hands, they tittered to each other as they looked me over, the corners of their muzzles turning up into grins as they then looked back to each other.
What were they thinking? What was the point of this? I steeled myself for whatever they were going to do.
The guards behind me turned and departed. The warrior that was sitting on the chair reached over and grabbed some kind of cushioned footrest, bringing it over in front of the sofa he was sitting on, and propping both of his feet on it. Grunting quietly, he looked directly at me, continuing to grin and revealing the sharp teeth behind his lips.
Then, he produced a small remote control-like device that he aimed up at me. As he did, I yelped as I felt my collar get pulled down by an invisible force, bringing me onto my knees. Gasping, I reached out to clumsily catch myself on the footrest, the energetic link between my handcuffs having been mercifully and unexpectedly released, suddenly finding myself face-to-face with the soles of his large feet.
The warriors laughed, their raspy, coarse voices echoing throughout the interior of the lounge.
Taking a few deep breaths, I found myself forced to look more closely at his feet. Those things were big and thick, brutish, and almost resembling dinosaur feet, topped with three plump toes with long, off-white claws sticking out of them. Underneath them were rough, scaled soles which had obviously seen a lot of use, with a ball that stuck out slightly and a large round heel.
The warrior alien clutched his long bladed weapon in his lap, turning to look at his fellows, his muzzle turning up into another sinister grin as he gave a dry, wheezy chuckle. Looking back at him, they hissed and giggled back as he pressed his large foot closer to my chest. Quietly, he released the device's hold on my collar, giving my head the ability to move around freely again.
