Farrah's Encounter

It's my first day working as an escort and I couldn't be more nervous. As if hurtling through space isn't terrifying enough.

The Outpost is very different from my home planet of Earth. In some ways, it feels like a lawless wasteland, in that there are people from every species across the galaxy doing literally whatever the fuck they want, whenever they want, but in other ways, it's place of structure and order. There are certain unwritten rules that anyone who steps foot here must abide by. No fighting inside the taverns -- if you want to start a ruckus, you'll have to do it outside under the starry sky and before witnesses. No stealing -- which roughly translates to "don't get caught stealing or you'll find yourself at the receiving end of a baseball bat."

And most importantly, if you see someone who's not supposed to be here, don't, under any circumstances, report them to The Guard. A place like this is a beacon for criminals and runaways. To report someone would be to upset the balance of The Outpost. Yes, it's where space travelers stop to rest and attempt to pawn random pieces of junk, but it's also a haven for outsiders and degenerates.

My employer is named Mara, and she's the owner of Mara's House, a home for escorts of a wide variety of species. Some prefer their sexual partners to have a certain number of limbs, or extra eyes, or even gills. Mara's House caters to all preferences. I'm one of only three humans under her employment, which makes me kind of a novelty in a place like this. She's arranged for me to meet up with a male at ten o'clock sharp at some motel on the outskirts of the main hub.

I'm referring to my client as a male instead of a man because I never assume that anyone is human -- on The Outpost, it's more likely that they're not.

My six-inch heels clack ostentatiously against the black pavement as I walk towards the crumbling motel. I pick up my key from the front desk from a three-eyed attendant who barely gives me the time of day. I throw a glance over my shoulder as I scurry down the dingy hallways in search of room 307, my paranoia running ahead me like a loosely leashed dog. The peeling walls reek of cigarettes and despair.

While prostitution is illegal under the Empire's rule, The Outpost is not considered to be under any particular planet's jurisdiction. Not that the Empire has ever cared about technicalities; if they wanted to bring the hammer down on this place, they most certainly could.

My knock lands softly against the door to room 307. I'm almost hoping that nobody answers, and I can turn around and go back to Mara's. Of course, she would probably spin me right around and send me off to another client.

It's a good thing I didn't assume that my client tonight was human, because when the door swings open, I am greeted by a tall, lean male with striking blue skin and bright, violet eyes. His dark hair flops messily over his eyes, desperately in need of a trim, and he's dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt. One of his shoelaces is untied.

He doesn't strike me as particularly threatening. If anything, his downcast eyes suggest he might be a bit shy. Well, that makes two of us.

"Hello. I'm Persey." His voice is quiet, hesitant.

"Farrah." I wonder if he really believes that I'd give him my real name.

"Um, thanks for coming." Yes, he's definitely nervous.

"That's why you're paying me," I point out.

"Right. Come on in." He stands aside for me to enter, and I attempt to brush carelessly past him like I've done this a hundred times. I hope I'm convincing.

The room is nothing more than four walls, a flickering lamp, and a double-wide bed that's probably hosted dozens of meetings such as this one.

Persey -- I wonder if that's his real name? -- plants himself in the wooden chair in the corner of the room and gestures for me to take a seat on the bed. The sheets feel rather stiff and uncomfortable, but it doesn't matter. I won't be here very long.

There's something about Persey. Blue skin is not uncommon in this part of the galaxy, but his eyes -- irises of a glowing, deep violet, and ringed with gold -- give him away. The baseball cap and pair of sunglasses strewn about the bedside table suggest he was trying to conceal his identity before arriving at this motel. After all, one doesn't need sunglasses here. The Outpost doesn't even have a sun.

Maybe his reasons for being nervous about this arrangement have nothing at all to do with sex.

"You're a... a Xhorthian?" I begin. They're an ancient species gifted with exceptional telepathic abilities, a kind of power so rare, not many understand it. Officially, they're considered a threat to the crown -- in large part due to the activities of their rebel leader, who has a nasty habit of blowing up government buildings on planets under control of the Empire.

"Yeah," he says, chewing on his lip. "You're not going to say anything to anyone, right?" He looks like he might get up and bolt at any moment.

"No, of course not." I suppose it doesn't matter that he's here illegally. I'm not exactly in a position to be reporting crimes to The Guard. What scares me most is that I'm a weakling human and he's an all-powerful Xhorthian. He could probably crush my skull without lifting a finger.

And yet, I don't get the sense that he wants to.

"Anyway," I move off the bed to stand between his legs, trying my best to exude confidence. "Should we get started?"

His violet eyes widen in alarm. "Oh, um, you don't actually need to touch me for this to happen."

I pause. I realize I don't know the first thing about Xhorthian anatomy, or sexuality, for that matter. "You don't want me to touch you?" I ask, puzzled.

"It, um, detaches from my body. My sexual organ, I mean." He pauses, waiting for some kind of reaction from me, I suppose, but at the moment I'm more confused than anything else. He continues, "I control its movements, and I will feel the sensations telepathically. You need only to lay on the bed while my organ explores your body."

Wait, he doesn't even want me to touch him? And I'm still getting paid? This feels too good to be true.

But also... what the fuck?

"Wow," I say. "Why...?" I trail off, not quite sure how to phrase my question. There's got to be some evolutionary reason for their penises to detach from their bodies.

Persey does not seem bothered by my rude question. "For a few reasons. The first, is that if we are killed, the organ lives on and can still ensure the survival of our species. In the absence of a host, the organ will seek out a female and plant its seed inside of her. Second, females of my species are notoriously difficult to impregnate; the uterus is protected deep within their bodies, almost impossible to reach with a standard sexual organ. This makes reproduction far easier, when we can detach. The organ can go inside and find the egg; it's malleable enough to squeeze through even the tightest of spaces... " He trails off, probably not intending to give me a biology lesson.

But I'm fascinated. I'm wondering how many giant worms across the galaxy are really Xhorthian penises without bodies, searching endlessly for ripe females to plant themselves in. Fascinating.

"Interesting," I say, and mean it.

He smiles sheepishly. "Is there anything else you want to know? I'm an open book, really."

The question spills off my tongue before I can stop it. "Why do you want to do this with me? I'm human. It sounds like you -- and your penis -- are hardwired to want to reproduce with a member of your own species." I'm not supposed to be asking this question; Mara would probably slap me if she knew I'd asked it. It doesn't matter why he's here with me, just that he's paying.

He shrugs. "I have a preference for human females. You're all quite adorable, really." His strange, glowing eyes travel up and down my body. For the first time since he introduced himself, he looks like he wants to fuck me. "And I'm in desperate need of... well, you know. Mara's House came highly recommended."

A blush creeps up my throat at the compliment, despite myself. I find myself curious to see what will happen next. "So, where do you want me?" I ask.

"On the bed is fine. Disrobe, please." Persey is very polite as he makes this request.

I peel off my clothes -- tight leather pants and a lacey camisole, with no bra or panties underneath -- and plop back onto the bed in a sitting position. I'm completely naked, goosebumps rippling off my skin in nervous waves.

He nods in approval. "You have very nice breasts," he comments, and it's so formal that I almost laugh.

My nipples peak at the unexpected compliment. "Thanks."

"I would prefer if you were aroused," he adds. "It will make this easier. Please feel free to touch yourself. I'm in no rush." He crosses his legs, the picture of patience. Someone like him, always on the run, is probably enjoying the time off of his feet.

I hesitate, not quite sure how to begin. I might as well dive right in. I reach a hand between my legs and dip a finger into my lower lips, surprised to find myself already moist. I gently stroke my clit, working towards the arousal that Persey requested. I don't have any interest in faking it, and something tells me I won't have to. Persey's gaze lingers on my busy hand, seemingly mesmerized by the sight of me pleasuring myself. There's a hunger is his violet eyes that's very much at odds with the unassuming Persey on the surface. He looks like he wants to ravage me, despite his promise that he won't actually need to touch me.

It's not long before I'm oozing fluid, warm and ready for whatever comes next.

"Ready?" His voice is noticeably quieter, gruffer, than it was before.

I nod.

Persey stands from his chair and unzips his jeans. He reaches into his pants and pulls out something long, girthy, and flexible.

The Xhorthian approaches me while holding his penis in his hands. The top button of his jeans is now unfastened, revealing a glimpse of smooth, unmarred skin beneath the now-flat crotch of his pants. There doesn't seem to be any sort of wound where the organ detached. It's as if his body simply expelled the organ and sealed itself back up. How very efficient.

I can't help but gulp at the sight of Persey's penis. It could almost be mistaken for a centipede, probably close to ten inches long and wiggling on hundreds of tiny feet. It's the exact same shade of blue as the rest of Persey's skin. The thing clearly has a mind of its own, or at least some instinctual drive to impregnate, by the way it's squirming to escape Persey's grip.

I'm suddenly overcome with nerves. How in the world am I going to fit that thing inside of me?

"You won't feel any pain," Persey comments in response to the look on my face. "My organ is capable of transforming to fit through any crevice, any barrier, no matter how small. It will shrink or expand as necessary to fit inside of you. I think you will find this experience quite pleasurable."

I swallow my fears. In my examination of Persey's penis, I'd absent-mindedly closed my legs. "Spread, please," Persey instructs me. There's a hard edge to his voice that makes me comply without question.

I do as he says and spread my legs apart, allowing the disembodied organ unobstructed access to my vulnerable little hole.

Persey lowers his hands so that his organ can climb upon the bed, and it does. It's a strange sight to behold, a disembodied penis crawling towards me on a cheap motel bedspread, it's intention obvious. The urge to close my legs is strong, but I keep them open out of both curiosity and obligation. The penis pauses, cocking its head to the side. Sensing me.

And then it's moving across the bed directly towards my open cunt, faster than I would have thought possible on those tiny little legs, drawn directly to the warm puddle between my sticky thighs. My pussy lips flutter as the worm-like object nudges my entrance with its bulbous head.

And then, it's climbing inside of me.

I've used dildos on myself before, but this sensation is nothing like that. The fleshy member ventures up my tunnel like an explorer, nudging against my every nook and cranny as if checking for weak spots, before plunging fearlessly deep. My walls stretch impossibly to accommodate the foreign intruder. The groan that is ripped from my throat is not one I have ever heard before.

Persey has taken a seat back in his chair, watching me intently with his bright, violet eyes while his bodiless penis climbs within me, crawling up, up, and up until disappearing entirely from view. It's a snug fit, but not altogether unpleasant. This Xhorthian penis is without a doubt the largest thing I've ever put inside of me.

Across the room, Persey's head is tipped back, and the whites of his eyeballs are visible. He's feeling everything his penis is feeling, and he's clearly enjoying it.

The penis starts to swell. It becomes tight -- too tight -- for a few breathtaking moments before the swelling recedes. And then, it begins to swell again. It repeats this process over and over again, swelling and receding, and I realize it's stretching me from the inside. Or should I say, Persey is stretching me from the inside.

There's a feeling of deflation as the thing unexpectedly slides out of me, but not all the way. I peek down between my legs to find the organ half inside, half outside, wiggling in the open air for a few teasing moments before plunging all the way back in.

Once the penis begins to pulse against my G-spot, I come apart at the seams. My whole body goes lax, and I find myself thrusting my hips upwards in an attempt to increase the speed at which the organ fucks me.

"I can feel you clenching," observes Persey from his spot across the room. "I assume that you're close? Please, feel free to orgasm. It will make this next part much easier, actually."

The request is just as polite as every other request Persey has made thus far, and the next thing I know, I'm coming hard on a disembodied alien penis stuffed up my spasming cunt. I scream loudly, very much aware that the occupants in the next room can likely hear me through the thin, cheap walls.

Only when I'm done orgasming do I process Persey's words. Before I can ask him about what's going to happen to next, his penis is moving again, deeper into my vaginal canal than I would have thought possible, and suddenly, it's slipping through my cervix. There's an uncomfortable pressure as the organ breaches my uterus.

I gasp as I look down at my swelling belly. There's a small bump between my hips that materializes in a matter of seconds, and suddenly, I look about three months pregnant.

Finally, Persey finds his own release. His head falls back against the wall as he shudders, and curiously, his skin begins to glow.

I've never given birth before, but I know what's about to happen by the sudden cramp in my lower belly and the pressure that follows. The Xhorthian penis slides easily out of me, positively drenched with my fluids. It lands on a wet spot of its own creation on the mattress beneath me.

Persey sags in his chair, clearly satisfied, while I collapse against the bed. I feel horribly empty, and not at all ready for this to be over. I pull my thighs up against my stomach so that I'm baring both of my holes to the tiny creature, silently begging for it to continue.

"We can keep going, if you want," I say in a small voice. I use my own two hands to spread my ass cheeks, revealing my tight ring of muscle to the Xhorthian across the room.

Persey smiles at me, and within the next five minutes, his penis is all the way up my large intestine. I feel so gloriously full, so filled to the brim, when the swelling begins anew. The pressure increases, to the point where it starts to hurt a little, but also feels fucking incredible --

Persey is grunting and groaning in time with his penis's movements, and the whole thing is just so weird and bizarre that I'm more turned on than I've even been in my twenty-two years. I reach my hand in between my legs to play with my clit while the penis wiggles inside of my ass. I've just spilled over the edge of another glorious climax when --

The distant barreling of footsteps down the hallway is the only warning we get before the door explodes. I'm not exaggerating -- splinters are flung in every direction as the door is quite literally ripped from its hinges and the room is swarmed by guards.

The Guard. The Empire's men.

It all happens so fast. Persey's eyes snap open a half second before his face is shoved into the carpet and he's held there by the knee of an angry looking guard. I scramble off the bed and into the corner of the room, where I wrap my arms around my knees and hope I'm a reasonable distance away from the line of fire. My heart is pounding erratically against my rib cage, in part from the recent orgasm and in part from crippling fear. My first day on the job and I'm busted by the cops. This is not good.

They cover Persey's mouth with a cloth, and it takes only seconds for him to lose consciousness.

Finally, they notice me. My plan to sink into the wall and disappear forever fails spectacularly. "You! What's your name?"

"Farrah," I squeak.

"What are you doing here with him?" He jerks his thumb at Persey like he's a disgusting bug caught in a fly trap.

There's no point in lying. It's very clear why the two of us are here in this room, given the fact that I'm completely naked and I was sprawled on the bed in the throes of pleasure when the guards rushed in. But on the other hand, Persey and I weren't even touching when the guards came into the room. Maybe I can still get out of this. "Nothing," I sputter.

The guard examines the wet spot in the center of the bed, and his lips curl in disgust. "Did he hurt you?"

"N-no."

"Get dressed," he orders, not entirely convinced. "We'll need you to come in for questioning."

Questioning?

I quickly climb back into my clothes, which don't offer nearly enough coverage against the sudden freezing temperature the guards brought with them into the room.

Of course, Persey's penis is still lodged comfortably up my rectum, seemingly content to stay there for the time being. I wait for the right opportunity to expel the organ and return it to Persey, but they've got him in handcuffs and out the door faster than I can say, "Wait! I've got his penis!"

--

I'm sitting alone in a dimly lit conference room waiting to be questioned, or interrogated, by one of the guards, and I'm starting to think they forgot about me because it's been a good half hour. I'm shivering, wishing I'd brought the knitted pink sweater currently folded on my bed back at the house, but Mara says pretty girls don't wear sweaters. A sleeve of vending machine donuts lay untouched on the table before me, my appetite having vanished along with Persey back at the motel. Oh, and I'm squirming in my chair while a Xhorthian penis squirms inside of me. Somehow, it's crawled deeper inside of me, as it's trying to hide from the guards out of fear of getting captured just like Persey.

Finally, one of them comes for me.

The guard folds his hands on the table between us and offers me a very insincere smile. I'm not sure what he wants from me, but guilt stains my cheeks red. I feel like I'm harboring a criminal inside my large intestine.

"Are you aware that the male you were meeting with is the Xhorthian rebel leader known as Perseus Markham?"

I purse my lips together in an effort to keep my jaw from hitting the floor, but I'm sure the surprise is written all over my face. "What?" I demand.

"What is the nature of your relationship to him?"

"I-I hardly know him." I don't want to admit that I am an escort and give them another reason to keep me here. "We met at a bar earlier tonight and then got a room together. I didn't know who he was, I swear."