Little Lost Space Cadet

A note from the author: I have been extremely lax in my own self-imposed deadlines for turning out stories. This one, somewhat outside of my usual high fantasy settings, helped me overcome a spell of writer's block. A certain video by Little_sun_boy happened to catch my eye (I owe them my thanks) and everything fell into place from there. I hope you enjoy this little one-shot.

This story contains transgender and extraterrestrial themes.

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"Lieutenant Marla Hampton?" The factotum paused at the doorway. "The Commander will see you now."

With some trepidation, the lieutenant got up. It wasn't every day that the Commander specifically requested the presence of any particular crewmember on the outpost. Especially not someone so junior as her.

She had never even seen the man in person before. He was a little underwhelming, to be honest, grizzled and worn beyond his time. "Ah, Lieutenant Hampton," the Commander greeted her. "Do sit."

Marla sat as the Commander got up to open a closet, wheeling out an old-timey vidscreen. He did it himself, she noticed; most officers of his rank would have summoned a factotum. Hell, some of the ritzier space stations were practically teeming with those types of general laborers, bright and young and not quite skilled enough to join the Space Cadets proper but still eager to live out their dreams, off-world.

"What I tell you does not leave this room." The Commander rubbed his eyes. "A routine scouting mission on Beta Persei 7 went awry due to unforeseen characteristics of the planet's atmospheric composition."

He sighed. "I don't know why the scanners didn't catch it from orbit. Well, I have my guesses. I suspect, and this will need to be borne out by a

very

thorough inquiry, that our current systems only check whether or not a planet is completely inimical to human life. If our scouts can breathe it and survive, the system does not probe much further. This will be changed for future missions."

Marla frowned. "Commander, what exactly went wrong on Beta Persei 7?"

"I'm getting to that." The Commander steepled his fingers. "Lieutenant Hampton, from what post-incident analysis has revealed, certain compounds found naturally in the atmosphere of Beta Persei 7, while broadly safe to ingest, nonetheless produce highly aphrodisiac effects on any human with significant levels of androgenic hormones."

There was a brief pause as Marla digested those words.

"Wait." This was ridiculous. "Do you mean-"

"In any case," the Commander interrupted, "you're probably wondering why I called you in specifically, rather than someone in the Xenobiologist track. The answer to that is, well. There's a reason why I asked you to sit down just now. This might be distressing."

He rummaged around in his desk. "I had the documents around here somewhere," he muttered. "Ah, here it is. Lieutenant Hampton, the reason why you are being briefed on this highly sensitive issue is because records indicate that you were previously acquainted with the Space Cadet who was sent to scout the planet."

A face appeared on the vidscreen. Marla gasped. "Simon?!"

She'd recognize that face anywhere -- it was his standard ID photo. Boyish and carefree, hair cropped short, Marla hadn't seen him since the Academy. They'd known each other for far longer, though. In point of fact, Marla had known him before he had been Simon.

"But, sir," Marla blurted out, "Simon's-"

"I am well aware of the personal backgrounds of every member of my crew," the Commander snapped. "Yes, it is a little-known fact, but a disproportionate number of those who sign up for the Cadet Corps are transgender. Call it a quirk of statistics. In your friend's case, he has been undergoing androgen replacement therapy for considerable time. Our eggheads at Xenobiology are still running simulations, but his medical history may have only enhanced the planet's effects."

"So, y-you mean...?"

Wordlessly, the Commander pressed a button on a remote. The vidscreen changed; now, instead of a still image, it played a video.

"This was automatically uploaded as part of surveillance footage taken from the landing craft," the Commander explained. "The usual function is to confirm that the Cadet has made planetfall successfully and have begun their exploration according to the mission timetable."

Marla watched as Simon moved into view of the camera. It seemed that he'd already discarded several layers of clothing. Whether that was due to the tropical climate in that part of the planet, reckless confidence in his other protective gear, or the effects of the atmosphere already taking hold, she could only guess. Sleeveless, legs bare, and midriff exposed -- was he breathing heavily? Sweeping the area with his blaster, he seemed to wait for a second, listening to something only he could hear. Then he was moving off into an alien forest.

Marla remembered back when they'd chosen their paths at the Academy, the unlikely friends; her, a tall and ungainly navigator unsure of herself, and him, the slender trans boy out for fame and glory. Simon had been so proud of his skill with the standard-issue blasters of the Cadet Corps. He had set an Academy record for marksmanship, something of which he'd been inordinately proud.

She'd

been so proud of him.

What had happened?

"The video feed cut off right after this," the Commander informed her. "Connection was lost a little after fifteen minutes on the ground. We were able to restore contact within the hour, but an unknown software error prevented Mission Control from recovering admin permissions of the camera module. We were, however, able to receive what was being transmitted."

The vidscreen flickered to life once more. Simon was back. In other circumstances Marla would've wondered why he'd apparently abandoned his scouting mission to kneel before a camera. She might have even given some thought to the long, thin tentacle clearly visible on-screen, stirring gently beneath his thighs. Instead, she was transfixed by the sight of her best friend staring lustfully into her eyes as he rubbed himself through his underwear.

A flicker of uncertainty seemed to cross his face. Then, his mind made up, Marla watched as Simon slowly pulled his thin black underwear aside. He lifted himself a little higher, until the tip of the tentacle just barely grazed his pussy. With a little gasp, in full view of the camera, he began to lower himself down.

"What the fuck is that thing?" Maria asked, pointing at the phallus that was now fucking the young Space Cadet.

The Commander shrugged. "Alien life, of course."

Oh my God.

Marla's pulse raced as she watched her best friend become the star of an extraterrestrial porno. Simon was a top! There was no way he'd let some uncontacted lifeform stick their junk inside of him, unless he was perfectly in control. She had never heard him making such noises before, the slightly pained whimpers and moans of a wanton hedonist.

"O-oh," she heard him gasp out, "oh my God, I-!" His moan was muffled slightly as one of his fists came around to his mouth, such an achingly familiar gesture to Marla, before he settled back onto his palms. His position, Marla couldn't help but notice, left his half-nude body wonderfully exposed.

"Unhh!" He was panting now, hips undulating, picking up the pace. The tentacle, for its part, seemed to respond favorably to his efforts. While before it had been still, each time the Cadet took another inch into his body the thing seemed to shudder.

"How long does this last?" Marla tried to keep a scandalized edge to her voice. Was she expected to watch it all?

"Only around twelve minutes," the Commander said calmly, seemingly indifferent to the lewd squishing from the vidscreen, the muffled cries of her friend's lust. "It is important for you to view this footage, lieutenant. You shall see why."

Leaning back, Simon's figure on the vidscreen seemed to be approaching a peak. "Oh, fuck, ohhh-!" He leaned back, trembling in ecstasy, gazing to the heavens before turning his half-lidded eyes back to the camera. "Nngh," he moaned.

No, this couldn't be a live feed. The Commander had obviously seen this before. Thus recorded, it was presented to her as well. But

why?

Was it all just to fluster her, to test her willpower?

Back on-screen, Simon was shuddering his way into what looked like a very pleasant experience. Gasping, he raised a hand to his face, almost bashful. Marla remembered one time coming back to the barracks late at night and accidentally walking in on him with another randy young Cadet. He'd merely smiled and waved at her, but he'd still clapped a hand over his own mouth to keep the whole space station from hearing his scream of ecstasy. That was him in a nutshell.

Oh God, was this video still going?

Where were his blasters? She'd almost have expected to see the holsters empty. He'd have tried to shoot his way out of any unpleasantness first thing, Marla thought, so he wouldn't have fallen willingly into the arms of some tentacled creature. No doubt that alien had captured and disarmed him in order to have its way with him. But no, looking closer she saw his blasters still clipped to his belt, in apparent working order but clearly ignored. He'd clearly put away his weapons, and looked like he was in no hurry to reach for them. Maybe he'd figured that there was no way to blast himself out of this mess. Or maybe...

...maybe he didn't want to.

"Fuck," Simon breathed, clearly enjoying the experience. Marla watched as one of his hands came down to rub himself, something that she remembered was his habit. A bit of extra clit stimulation while he was getting fucked.

Then she blinked as another tentacle, this one long and thin for grasping, whipped around to grab his hand and pinion it behind his back.

"Aw, come on," he whined, letting out a frustrated groan as the tentacle that was fucking him paused and begin to withdraw from his pussy. In fact, it came completely out, resting gently against his labia.

She watched him squirm, heard his little noises, but that tentacle wasn't going to fuck him again, not just yet. Maybe it thought to teach him a lesson. Eventually, though, the tentacle began to move, just barely. It began to grind against him, slowly rubbing along his slickness, just beside his clit. Marla caught the relieved look that crossed Simon's face as he broke into a smile. This was something that he liked.

Marla could remember, once, a few months after he'd gotten his prescription, he'd strolled into her room and casually asked something along the lines of, "does my clit look bigger?" She still blushed to think of it. That was the day that she'd discovered he had few qualms about nudity.

And indeed, his regularly prescribed doses had been gradually shaping his body, the lines of his face and the look in his eye. The Cadet Corps had certain technologies to prevent the growing of facial hair, so many of his developments had been concealed beneath the fabric of his clothing. She could certainly see the work that had been done; he was still slender and boyish as he always was, mostly clean-shaven due to standard Cadet regulations. Judging from the sounds coming from his mouth the sensitivity down below may have even increased.

Or maybe it had more to do with the compounds in the planet's atmosphere. Or maybe in the clear goop that the tentacle seemed to be spreading, slowly coating her friend's pussy. Or maybe the camera. He was always a bit of an exhibitionist.

The scene changed suddenly enough for Marla to cry out with surprise. "What-! ...excuse me. Commander, was this video edited?"

"Not by us." The Commander let that hang in the air for a second. "What you see is the broadcast as it was received from the landing craft."

It was like a porno with decent production quality. That swift fade-out, fade-in was not natural. Marla meant to make a cutting comment about the cinematography of the whole affair, but the words died on her tongue.

Simon had been flipped around now. His ass faced the camera, legs held apart. A stiffened but still visibly squirming tentacle, a different one this time, pointed up beneath his legs. There wasn't much preamble. The extraterrestrial, through its many tentacles and manipulators, brought him down onto the new phallus. He howled as it began to pound him relentlessly.

"Commander," Marla asked, trying her best to keep her voice approximating distaste and not some other emotion, "how necessary is this segment of the video?" On the vidscreen Simon was moaning, wriggling in his bonds, but as he tried to look back over his shoulder several tentacles pulled him back to face forward. Another, smaller tentacle lashed out several times to spank his ass, eliciting a shriek of surprise. This extraterrestrial, it seemed, brooked no deviation from the script.

"Oh, very well." The Commander sighed. "If you have the chance, you really ought to watch the whole thing in private, to see the risks our Cadets face in their mission. But, for this case, I suppose we can fast-forward to the important bit."

He pressed a button, and the vidscreen sped up. Simon's body gyrated in an almost comical manner as the playback sped through multiple scene changes. Now he was taking it in the ass, wiggling his hips a little. Now two different tentacles were penetrating him, and Marla recognized even in fast-forward the slightly pained but delighted expression on his face.

The Commander paused the playback on the last scene. Marla stared. "That...that's not a tentacle."

"No it isn't," the Commander agreed. "The current hypothesis down at the lab is that it's some sort of artificial construct."

He unpaused the video and it began to play at normal speed. Simon was still riding a tentacle; leisurely, though, not at a driving pace. Just a little something to reward him. The thing in front of his face didn't look like any tentacle she'd ever seen. Translucent, slightly sparkly, but -- in form, at least -- very much like a human dick.

Simon had his hands around it. "Gosh," he fluttered his eyes coquettishly, "I don't know if I'll be able to fit

all

of this..."

He did. The little kisses he placed along its length might have been excessive, his mouth teasing the length of the girthy alien phallus. It was already a POV shot of her friend, for fuck's sake, as he prepared to suck an intergalactic cock. And...

Did he have to moan quite so loud? She shifted in her seat. This really, really was starting to get distracting.

Mercifully for her, it seemed this part was only a few minutes long. Whatever thing had been fucking Simon was finally driving him over the edge. (Although on reflection, it had probably done so at least once during the fast-forwarded parts of the video. She ruthlessly tamped down the thought that she could always rewatch those segments and check for herself.) As for the dick in his mouth, well, Simon always had a talented tongue. The alien's dick withdrew, and an alien hand gripped it from outside the shot to perform those final few strokes.

Marla almost didn't process the sight of her friend getting splattered with cum -- the thing was finishing on his face, jerking off all over the nearly-naked boy, and he eagerly accepted the stuff that was now staining his already stripperific uniform rags -- because it had occurred to her that this alien, with its surprisingly human cock, had surprisingly human hands with which to jack off. A construct? Definitely a construct, then, or a projection of some sort. Parallel evolution wouldn't explain that level of similarity.

She was still processing all of this when the scene changed one last time.

The camera panned down. Simon was sprawled across the ground, looking exhausted but happy. His uniform was in shambles from his fuck-session, splattered with cum. His face was slightly flushed. His blasters were still clipped to his belt -- below the waist, she saw, he was completely unclothed, though for some reason his boots remained on. And lying next to him...

That was certainly humanoid. Like out of Star Trek. Except, those features...indistinct, blurred, something she was not meant to see. Not much of a face. Was the camera not picking this up? Were the eyes, the nose, simply not there? Something that humankind was not able to comprehend, or something that hadn't been given much thought in the making.

The alien...construct, person, whatever had a mouth, though. A mouth that was speaking Galactic Common.

"This one is mine, now."

It smiled with cruel lips.

"The language I picked up from this one's brain." It patted Simon on the head. The Cadet snuggled closer to the creature's body, a dopey grin on his face. "My true body would destroy lesser minds. This body, I based on the fantasies of this one. Dirty, lewd fantasies they were."

Leave it to Simon to have such thoughts in his subconscious.

"My knowledge is still incomplete." The alien made an almost-shrug with its almost-shoulders. "Although this one knew much of your society. And, to be fair to him, we had such great fun together. Shall have more fun in the coming days."

One hand traced teasingly, possessively, down Simon's body. He squirmed and giggled as those fingers brushed across his lower back.

"This one played well with the toys. This one will make a good pet."

Impossible.

Marla's mind raced. An alien that could read minds like this, that could so quickly pick up human thoughts?

"Now," the alien said softly, "I am not jealous. I can share my playthings."

Simon giggled again. The alien was shamelessly groping his ass.

"Send me another," the alien continued, "and I will consider letting this one go."

The alien kissed Simon, placed kisses on his cheek and down his neck. "In fact, examination of this one's mind has given me some ideas. Who next, Space Command? I have an idea. Bring me Lieutenant Marla Hampton," the alien ordered. "Bring her to me, and I will trade you for her friend."

The vidscreen went dark. Marla's mouth was open.

"W-what the fuck?"

The Commander cleared his throat. "This may have been a lot to take in all at once."

No shit! That alien fucker knows my name! And he got it from mind-fucking a friend of mine!

Marla didn't say her first thought aloud. Instead: "Where do I come into this?"

The Commander gave her a look. "Obviously, we don't intend to actually trade you." Although she wouldn't put it past Space Command to try. "There's a shuttle, specially armed, due to be launched in sixteen hours. The new Alcubierre Plus Five layout. We obviously don't intend to give this E.T. any longer with your friend than necessary. You're to lead the response team. I know you will be motivated to carry this off to completion. Ideally, we'd be able to locate and destroy such an obviously dangerous alien lifeform. That being said, you are to remember that first and foremost, this will be a rescue mission. We don't leave our Cadets behind."

Well.

"If you have any questions," the Commander said, almost gently, "it would be appropriate to ask them now."

She had led expeditions of the type in the past, that was true. And she certainly was going to blast her way through the whole damn planet if it would bring her friend back. But...

"Commander," she started, hesitant, "you do know that I'm also-"

"Yes, lieutenant," the Commander said, "do keep in mind that I actually give a damn about my crew, and I am aware of their medical history. Among the people on this station, you are the leading candidate to take the lead for this mission, by experience and by psych profile. Additionally, by our calculations you are more than compatible with the planet's atmosphere. I read through your files and you've been well below the danger point for at least six months, as indicated by your medical records. Unlike Simon," he said, "you have little to be worried about."