Out of the Dar

A story with a sci-fi touch! This one is in the Transgender category, though technically there are no transgender characters. It features a woman who is, by her standards, a perfectly ordinary genetic female. It's just that where she comes from reproduction works differently than it does here, and perfectly ordinary genetic females are a little different. Suffice to say that if Transgender fiction is your thing then you will, I hope, enjoy this.

Also be warned, the story delves into issues of consent and the lack of it. It's more "Oh, I didn't expect that!" than anything and it all works out in the end, but if that's a hot button for you, then this probably isn't the story for you.

Everyone in this story is over 18.

------

Nathan glanced over at his computer for the fifth time and sighed internally. He really ought to do some work, he thought to himself, but he just couldn't be bothered. He told himself he had the time - when he rented the cabin he'd set himself the goal of writing ten thousand words a week, and he only had three thousand words left to do to meet the quota this week. He could do that in a day, easily, and he had three left.

He crossed to the window and looked out. It had been snowing for most of the day, dropping a good eight or ten inches, and showed no sign of letting up. The forest looked like something out of a Christmas card, trees laden with snow like frosting on a cake. It was beautiful, he thought. Maybe he could write a story about a snowy forest.

He'd lived here for six months, all part of his great writing adventure. Nathan didn't really need to work; thanks to a great-great-great grandfather who'd made a ton of money in... was it steel? Or ship building? Something like that. Great-great-great Grandpa had left a sizeable fortune in a trust which paid out to his male descendants. It didn't make Nathan a rich jet-setter or anything, but it was enough to let he and his cousins live a comfortable life doing pretty much whatever he wanted to do.

What he wanted to do was become a writer. He'd dreamed about it since he was a kid, devouring books in the local library, but never thought he was good enough at writing to actually do it. Then he'd read something a writer had said. "The only way to be a writer is to

write

. Don't wait until you're a great writer, don't wait until you have the perfect story - if you do, you'll never write anything. Write now! Accept that it will be full of flaws, accept that people might well hate it, and write it anyway. And when it turns out to be awful, put it out into the world and then try to write something better. Do it over and over again. If you're not willing to do that then find something else to spend your time on, because you'll never be a writer."

Nathan had decided to devote himself to writing. He'd rented this little cabin, out in the middle of nowhere, for a year. No distractions, no neighbours within a ten mile radius, just him and a keyboard. He decided that he'd write twenty-four stories by the end of the year. That didn't seem too many, one every two weeks. Then at the end of the year he'd compare the first and the last. If he'd noticeably improved, he'd spend another year writing twenty-four more.

To his considerable surprise, it actually seemed to be working. Twelve stories in, and it was actually starting to think things like 'oh, that didn't work, but in the next story what if I did it this way instead...' He was even starting to think that some of the stories weren't that bad. And he was learning more from his mistakes than he ever had from just reading 'how to write' articles.

In fact, he was starting to think...

He stopped suddenly, his chain of thought broken as the cabin shuddered slightly. What was that? He looked around, wondering if he'd imagined it. No, the light fitting in the centre of the ceiling was slowly swaying back and forth, just a little. As he stared at it in confusion, the shudder came again. Then again, stronger this time. He looked back to the windows and an orange light caught his eye. The whole cloud layer was lit up orange. Nathan had seen that before, when low, snow-heavy clouds lay over a city at night. The yellow-orange glow of the street lights could light them up like that. Only this seemed brighter... and it was getting brighter still. In fact, it was getting

really

bright, just above the cabin. He looked up, totally confused.

A single spot turned brighter still, and a second later a large ball of fire burst through the clouds. It was coming down rapidly, at a steep angle. Before Nathan could react, it vanished into the trees. A huge plume of dirt rose up, and a moment later the entire cabin shook so hard that he staggered back and fell on his ass. Before his bewildered eyes, every trace of snow silently dropped from the branches of every tree in sight.

"Fuck," he managed finally. "Plane crash!" It had to be. Some plane had burst into flames and crashed into the forest! He could see an orange glow through the trees. It didn't look far, maybe five or six hundred yards away.

He didn't have cell service out here, didn't even have a landline or internet connection. He'd wanted no distractions, after all. He had a satellite phone, though, which he had bought in case of some emergency. He rushed to a drawer and pulled it out, then spent almost ten minutes fiddling with the thing trying to find a signal. Nothing. He sighed in frustration.

Okay... could he drive into town? Not likely. The nearest tarmac road was a mile and a half away. To get to it he'd have to drive up a dirt path, fighting an incline all the way. In the dark. With several feet of snow on it. Jesus, he didn't even have a 4x4. He'd thought about getting one, but just never gotten around to it. The Prius didn't have a hope in hell of making it.

Well at least he had warm clothing. He could go out there and do whatever he could to help.

He slipped a pair of thermal over-pants over his jeans, added a big chunky sweater, a thick winter coat, and gloves. He'd bought one of those Russian army fur hats on a whim; he tied it onto his head, grabbed a flashlight, and headed out.

He'd never walked around a forest at night before, and frankly it was more than a little scary. He suddenly thought to worry about predators. Did bears live around here? Mountain lions? He had no idea, and nothing but his fists to defend himself with if there were.

He tried to put the worry out of his mind as he struggled through the tangle of undergrowth between the trees. Had that been a passenger jet, he wondered? No, it didn't seem that big. But bigger than one of those little Cessna things that only held three or four people. Maybe it was a private jet?

He started to see fire here and there in the trees. It didn't seem to be spreading, thankfully; the snow was wetting it down too much.

Another hundred yards and he started to see flattened trees. He could see something in the dark, a great humped shape. He pushed on.

The thing gradually became clearer as he got closer, picking his way carefully through patches of fire. Details were standing out in the firelight. It was... It must have been really smashed up in the crash, he thought. The wings had been torn off and long gone. Tail too. And the fuselage had been... what? It must have crumpled up or something. He'd expected a standard fuselage shape, cylindrical with pointed ends. But this was... what? Rounded. No, not rounded, he saw as he approached. Round. Circular. Saucer shaped.

He stood starting at it for a long time as his mind struggled to accept what he was seeing. The thing was maybe forty feet across. It was made of some silvery material, definitely metal of some sort. A ring of lights on the underside pulsed green, slower than a heartbeat.

One edge of it was crumpled against the hard ground, and various parts looked banged up, presumably the result of hitting trees on the way in. The damage didn't look all that bad, though. The thing was dented and crumpled, but not torn open or smashed the way aeroplanes usually were in crashes.

"It's not an aeroplane and you know it," he muttered to himself. "Admit it. It's a flying saucer."

It was. Unmistakably, undeniably, impossibly, a flying saucer. Nathan stared at it, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do. Call for help, he thought, except that he couldn't. Run like hell? Hide? Stay and offer greetings? How?

He caught movement in the edge of his vision. He turned, and the sight that met him was both innocuous and terrifying.

There was a figure lying motionless on the ground about fifty feet away. He stared, trying to make sense of it. It looked human... well, humanoid, he thought. Two arms, two legs, a head, all conventionally arranged. The head was turned away from him, so all he saw of it was a mass of long black hair.

He began to walk hesitantly towards it. As he neared it, he could see from the shape of the body that the figure was female. Or at least, if it were a human it would have been female. She wore some sort of garment, something like a black catsuit which covered her almost completely. Only her hands and head were free. Nathan could see the skin clearly... the dark red skin. Nothing on Earth had skin that colour, he thought to himself.

He hesitated over what to do, but in the end curiosity won out; he circled her cautiously and walked closer. Her face was a normal Human-looking face, too, no tentacles or anything. Although he had to admit, it was abnormal in one respect. The woman, whoever or whatever else she might be, was astonishingly beautiful. Inhumanly so.

He came closer. Now that he was looking, her body was similarly abnormal. Real women didn't have a figure like that, he thought, though a fair few of them probably wished they did.

There was a gash in the suit she wore, across her abdomen. Red flesh gaped open below, and some yellow-tinged fluid dripped out slowly. Nathan felt foolish for not having brought his first aid kit with him, though he wasn't sure he'd have had any idea what to do with it.

Leaving her here wasn't an option, he decided. She would surely freeze to death if she didn't die of blood loss. He thought about that and made a mental note not to make assumptions. Maybe she

liked

cold, and who knew if that yellow stuff was blood or anything like blood? Maybe it was some kind of bad gunk that her body needed to expel.

But he had to do something, so he decided to take her back home.

That was easier said than done. Nathan was 5'6" and a slim-figured 120 lbs. He was fit and healthy enough, but physical strength was something he did not have in abundance. And as he drew close, he realised that the woman was significantly larger than he. It was hard to tell whilst she was lying down but he's say she was well over six feet tall, broad in shoulder and hip, and surprisingly muscled under that catsuit.

After some fumbling, he managed to get a hold of her under the shoulders and started dragging her back towards the cabin. A walk that had taken perhaps ten minutes one way took almost two hours the other. By the end of it he was utterly exhausted and drenched in sweat despite the low temperature. But make it he did, eventually. He dragged her all the way into his living room and even managed somehow to lever her onto his couch.

He took a few minutes there to rest before turning his attention to her wound. The ragged gash on her abdomen seemed scabbed over for the most part, though one little bead of the yellow liquid hung at a corner of the scab. Nathan decided some basic first aid couldn't hurt - surely every species at least preferred wounds to be cleaned out and dressed, rather than just left.

But he couldn't clean her properly unless he opened the suit up somehow. The black catsuit clung to her so perfectly that it he actually wondered if it was some kind of glossy body paint, liquid latex perhaps. Kinky, he thought, wondering if it was some kind of high tech spacesuit or just the latest thing in alien fashion. Whatever it was it had no zipper down the front or back, no buttons or buckles, no fastenings or pockets or adornments of any kind. He tugged at it here and there, hoping to find a seam or something. As he pulled on the neck the material split open at the throat. Further pulling expanded the split right down the middle, just as if an invisible knife was slicing it open.

She was completely naked underneath. The suit thing gaped open, revealing a body that wasn't gorgeous - it was

spectacular

. Nathan tried not to gawk, but it was difficult. The woman had truly stupendous cleavage, the edge of the open suit revealing a hint of darker skin that might be a pair of large nipples. She really was something, he thought, with the kind of beauty you only saw in comic books.

He focused on cleaning the wound, scraping away some dirt with a damp cloth and then gently patting it dry before putting a cotton pad over it and sticking it in place with surgical tape. That would have to do, he thought. He daren't try so much as antiseptic, let alone painkillers.

He tried to fumble her garment back together, but nothing he did could make it stick back the way it had been. In the end he left it gaping open, displaying a good deal of that incredible body. At least her groin was still covered, he reasoned.

Having done what little he could, Nathan sat back to ponder the million different questions he had no answers to. The first glow of morning was on the horizon before he finally drifted off to sleep, still sitting in the living room chair.

He woke suddenly, his head thudding into the back of the chair in a myoclonic jerk. For a moment he sat, disoriented, wondering why he wasn't in his bed. Then he focused and saw that the woman, the

alien,

was standing in front of him. Memory came flooding back. She was staring at him, he saw. Her eyes were a pale violet, softly glowing.

"Uh... hello," he said hesitantly. She cocked her head, regarding him with a faint smile. What would be a smile on a human, anyway, he thought. On her, who knew? He thought of the Kzinti smile and shivered. "Erm... Klaatu, barada nikto?" he tried in a weak attempt at humour.

"Good movie," she said. "The original, I mean. The remake, not so much."

"Oh, um, wow," Nathan said, his eyes practically bugging out. She had a voice to match her body, 'sex Goddess on steroids'. "You speak English? You... watch

movies

?"

"Well you have to kill time when you're on a long trip," she said. "But that's enough small talk. I've got a case of raging hormones right now, and I need a little help. You're volunteered."

"I, ah, what?" He saw for the first time that the wound on her stomach was gone. Not scabbed over, not healed to a scar, simply gone. Her abdomen looked perfectly healthy, as if she had never been wounded at all. It made the sight of her body, still half-revealed by the catsuit gaping open, even more arousing.

"Yeah, like Wolverine," she said with a smirk as she saw him looking. "Just not as quick. And hoo boy, you wouldn't believe what the healing process does to a girl's hormones." She moved closer as she spoke, bending down to unfasten his trousers. The position gave Nathan an extremely good view of those breathtaking breasts. Bizarre situation or not, there was only one way his body was going to respond to that. He started to get hard immediately.

"Lift up," she said. he did, and she slid his trousers and underwear down. "Hmm, look at that," she said as his cock sprang up. She looked... hungry.

She shrugged out of the catsuit and the thing dropped to her feet, leaving her naked. Nathan's breath caught in his throat as she straddled him, one hand wrapping around his cock. She was astonishingly warm to the touch, as if she had a high fever. His hands went to her body, sliding up her flanks and cupping those huge breasts. She purred with pleasure as he craned his head and kissed one of the big dark nipples softly.

"Hmm, good boy," she murmured throatily. She rubbed the head of his cock along her slit. That particular aspect of her anatomy seemed hotter still, and so slick she must be practically dripping. He closed his teeth on her nipple, gently, so gently, and she moaned.

With a slow fluid movement she repositioned and sank onto him, taking his cock deep inside her. He moaned into her breast as she gripped him. She was tight, almost virgin-tight, and the heat of her body was amazing against the sensitive skin of his cock. She began to move, sliding up and down on him as she groaned with pleasure. "That's it," she murmured, "just like that, oh yessss..." her eyes opened and she stared down into his with a gaze that seemed to probe deep into him. "But you don't cum," she said throatily, "not until I say so!"

Just that quick, he was practically trembling with intimidation. How did she do that, he wondered? He had no idea what she'd do if he didn't perform to her standards, but he knew that he didn't want to find out.

She began to accelerate the pace, raising her body until only the very tip of his cock was inside her and then thrusting down hard onto him again. Waves of pleasure radiated out through both of them with each thrust, Nathan could feel himself on the edge of orgasm despite his best efforts. The woman seemed to sense it too, and slowed her pace just a little. "Control," she hissed, "let the pleasure flow but be the master of your own body. Keep it in check!"

She slowed further, holding him on the edge. Nathan had never been particularly successful with women, and he had no illusions about his sexual prowess. But this woman played his body like a world class musician handled her instrument, keeping him right on the edge, never quite stimulating him to orgasm but never letting him drift far from that edge either.

Finally he could feel her body tensing, her moans beginning to grow louder and more frequent. Her pussy gripped his cock so hard it was on the edge of pain, but the pleasure was just as intense, the two feeding off one another in a building spiral.

She threw her head back and screamed, slamming down on him in rapid thrusts. No restraint at all now, and his body responded by plunging over that edge. He came, the most powerful orgasm he'd had in his life. His balls felt like they were literally throbbing, as if they were trying to force his whole body out of his cock. He was distantly aware that somebody was screaming, and realised that it was him.

She collapsed against him breathing hard and his arms went around her, holding her to him. They lay there like that for a little while as his breathing returned to normal.

Hers, however, did not. She pulled her hips away slowly, and his still-erect cock slid out of her. Her eyes were closed, her breathing still fast and deep. As he stared, the breaths began to become growls.

"Um, are you okay?" He asked, slightly concerned. He knew even less about interplanetary sex than he did about the regular kind... had he hurt her somehow? Perhaps his semen was like acid to her, burning her insides?

Her body felt different, he thought. Like... harder. As if her muscles were tensing, but all over. He took hold of her biceps, which seemed bigger than they had before. Was she having some kind of seizure? Before she had been athletic, now it seemed like her body was swelling, becoming more solidly muscular.

She growled, and her eyes opened. The pupils were tiny, barely a pinhole. It gave her already strange eyes a truly otherworldly look. He'd been amazed at how normal she had seemed despite her obviously non-human origins; now she looked like what she was, something truly alien.

He felt something strange against his hips and glanced down. His eyes widened. What was...