The Aliens Gift

The Alien's name was 'Groz'. At least that's what James and Hana called him. And there's the first problem; 'he' or 'him' wasn't actually anatomically correct because Groz didn't display any gender specific body parts or functions at all. Groz wasn't both genders. He was neither! Groz did display a personality, as well as an incredible intellect and an affinity to human emotions, so to call Groz an 'it' would be very unkind and downright rude from a human viewpoint. 'He' would just have to do.

James and Hana met Groz in very unusual circumstances, which will be explained shortly. It was a meeting which would change each of their lives dramatically.

Including that of Groz.

James

James was 32. He had a job in a local welding shop which paid the bills and allowed for a small amount of entertainment, usually in the form of weekend clubbing and Sunday afternoon drink sessions. This lifestyle was not exactly magnetic stuff for female company which would lead to any long-term relationships, or prospective family futures. James did enjoy occasional encounters with females, but any real naked intimacy was restricted to the few times a year when he could afford a local escort. These were always advertised in the local papers and they were usually Asian of some sort. Fortunately for James, Asian women were part of his sexual fascinations.

He enjoyed the sex he had with them immensely. Their smooth ivory skin, longish dark hair and petite bodies with smallish tits were almost perfect. He fixated on their tits. They were mostly a c-cup, but perky, ending in large dark areola which supported stiff large dark nipples. He loved staring at, fondling, tweaking, gently pinching and pulling them. Most of all though, he loved licking and sucking them. From the responses he usually got from the ladies, he could say with some confidence that he was an expert at manipulating breasts to such an extent that he could almost make any escort orgasm just from that alone. This was no easy feat, and he eventually got a name for himself among the return girls. 'Odayaka Gigalo', they called him; the gentle gigolo. Unfortunately for James, the term 'gigolo' was not really correct. He always paid the girls. They never paid him, even though they received as much pleasure from the sex as he did.

Obviously, there weren't many Asian women in the small mid-western town where James lived. He just wasn't attracted to any of the local available women. Sure, they were easy to talk to, and his demeanour around them was always confident and polite. He just couldn't see himself forming a long-term commitment with someone he wasn't sexually attracted to.

Consequently, James was desperately lonely.

He often found himself asking the same old question, albeit after a bout of heavy drinking while sitting on a park bench in the middle of the forest which surrounded his town. "What will become of me and my life?" He always came up with terrific insightful answers while in this state, but for the life of him, he could never remember them the next day, probably because he was too busy nursing a hangover!

It was during one of these 'D and M' soul searching reflections, aided by a half-empty bottle of bourbon, on the usual park bench, in the usual forest that the rest of his life really started. Up until that point, he was really only marking time.

The falling light that James saw through the trees seemed very close and not like any of the usual meteorite atmospheric burn-ins that he had seen before. He was actually quite surprised that his alcohol-blurred eyes allowed him to spot where it seemed to land. Near him... just at the edge of the forest. But no sound of impact or any damage to the trees and ground at all. At first, he just stayed glued to the seat, staring at the round object, about the size of a large motorhome. The silver shield around it glimmered and wavered as if it was alive. It didn't look solid. Eventually James's mouth, mind and eyes networked and he said aloud, "What the fuck!"

His legs also eventually untangled themselves from alcohol-related paralysis and he ambled towards the weird object. "Run away, idiot!" his rational brain cells screamed, but they too were silenced by the power of bourbon. He was only dimly aware that he had ventured right up to the object and was reaching out to touch the liquid-like surface. No heat, no burning sensation, just a slight vibrating sensation, almost magnetic to his fingers. James had experienced a small electric shock before and this sensation reminded him of that, but to a lesser extent. "Shit. Is this thing going to fry me? Why do I feel so compelled to touch it?" he mused.

He fought the strong desire to see if there wasn't an entrance of some sort and turned to head back to the dregs of his favourite bourbon, but he couldn't move his legs. "I'm drunker than I thought," he whispered. "Looks like I'm staying here until my liver deals with the bourbon intrusion sufficiently for me walk back home." This was something he had done many times before.

The pull from the object became stronger until James was physically dragged front first to its surface. Expecting to feel a dull thud from the impact, James was surprised to feel himself become absorbed into the silver metallic liquid, until he emerged on the other side. "I must be dead!" he thought. Then there was blackness. The sleep of the passed out drunk.

Hana

On the other side of the world, in a sleepy little fishing village on the east coast of Hokkaido, Hana gazed wistfully at the calm blue Pacific Ocean and the horseshoe-shaped harbour which caressed the fleet of twenty fishing vessels, keeping them safe from the perils of the ocean. The clifftop where she was currently perched was a favourite of hers. Here, she could see for miles and sit uninterrupted for hours. The cool ocean breeze, the clear sunlight, the picturesque scenery were indeed paradise. So why didn't this feel like heaven for Hana?

She was twenty-four years old and a typical Japanese lady, fit, healthy, demure, educated and attractive. All attributes which should surely make men come running. And they would, if there were any around. She was tied by family loyalty to stay in her ancestral village; a place she came back to after completing her engineering degree at the university in Tokyo. "What a waste of education," she often commented to the only person who listened to her inner-most musings... herself! Fishing vessels designed and built a hundred years ago and manned by the rapidly aging male population of her village had no need for engineering qualifications.

The village needed her for what lay between her legs. A perfect vagina, attached to a fertile uterus was what was important to the village. Potential babies to replace the youth who were lured to the big cities. Not that anyone would come right out and say that. That would be far too rude and not in keeping with entrenched rules of politeness. But that is what everyone thought, secretly, or whispered softly to their spouses.

One problem with that though was that there were no eligible male bachelors for at least thirty miles and they were in the neighbouring village. That village was considered another world by her family. There was one available male in her village. He was forty and very slow thinking, due to an accident on a fishing boat many years ago. The knock to his head from the net boom kept him unconscious for nearly a year. When he finally came to, his speech was slurred and he had a constant drool on the left side of his mouth. Any conversation with the unfortunate fellow had to be repeated at least thrice and slowly at that. Still, apparently his penis still functioned, according to several old ladies who often saw him tugging one out behind the boat sheds!

That's what the village needed; functioning uteruses and functioning dicks!

Hana felt trapped. Her longing for a better life, one where she was academically productive, loved by an attractive man, became an obsession with her. This obsession was tempered and dulled by her fierce sense of loyalty to her family and village. Her fit lithe body often betrayed her longings, as she felt the growing need to be fulfilled sexually. She always felt horny. This was something never discussed by anyone at home, especially not her mother or grandmother. Far too rude!

Hana came to sexual awareness in her late teens, at eighteen, just before going to university. The smooth silk coats she wore at home played mercilessly with her erect long nipples as she walked or moved around. Bras were not used or needed as her breasts were smallish, but proud and prominent. The gentle rubbing of the smooth material against her long, prominent nipples sent shock waves to her lower stomach and made her thighs hot with anticipation. She soon learnt to quench that fire with more manual manipulation of her vagina. Rubbing there while gently teasing her nipples made her feel incredible. This she discovered very early on and it undoubtedly stopped her going mad with unquenched physical desire. She would need this relief at least three times during each day and once per day during her cycle days. She became a recluse at university, studying all she could and giving her aching groin a needed rub at any opportunity in the solitude in her room. Other students left her alone and went to their parties, etc without her. They soon gave up trying to include her in that wonderful time of social interaction and adult awakening called campus life.

Hana could still remember the night she discovered her clit. She had read about it in a discarded magazine in the university refectory. It was a medical magazine, so she had no problems reading it in public while other students came and went around her. The article hinted rather strongly that this tiny area of a woman's vagina held the key to explosive orgasms and sexual fulfilment. This intrigued Hana and, flushed red with anticipation, she rushed back to her dorm room to find out about this thing called a clit. She showered, shaved, yes shaved! This was unusual for a Japanese woman, but the article stated that the clit was easier to find and easier to minister to when a woman shaved her groin. "No problem," she thought. "No one but me will know anyway!"

The experience of shaving itself sent her over the edge twice by itself! Finally, she relaxed in bed, armed with a small bottle of scented oil and a hand mirror. Gently, but determinedly, she moved her oily fingers around her cunt until she felt the small nub hiding under an almost tube-like fold of skin. Her nipples were already erect and at the touch on her newly-found clit, they almost painfully expanded, or seemed to. Blood pumped from her rapidly beating heart to her engorged nipples straight to her sensitive clit. This almost doubled in size, making it easier to play with as well as infinitely more sensitive. She drew circles around it, as if it was her nipple. She gently drew an oily index finger across the top of it. She lightly tapped it with the same index finger. She pushed it back into from where it emerged, only for it to re-emerge all over again. These ministrations lasted a whole five minutes before Hana for the first time in her life, experienced a full clitoral orgasm. Her breath rasped in her throat. Her teeth clenched together making her breath come out in hisses. Her eyes opened wide in utter amazement. Just when she felt that she couldn't handle any more, her body took control of her mind. Her stomach muscles clenched and unclenched in spasms of pure bliss. Waves of muscle contractions seemed to crash through her body, from her head to her toes. Her back arched up off the bed, seemingly pushing her clit closer towards the welcome invader of that space. How long that went on for, Hana had no idea, but it seemed that she had touched the divine. With one final orgasmic shudder accompanied by a loud "Ahh", she shrank to the foetal position on her bed and instantly fell asleep in the French-termed, 'petite mort', the little death.

That experience changed Hana's life. If she was reclusive before, she was absolutely hermit-like now. Sure, she passed her university courses, graduating with distinction, a typical result for that generation of hard-studying students. But she came out of university with a veracious sexual appetite, unfortunately only sated by her now well-developed masturbatory skills.

So here sat Hana, yearning for company, perpetually horny, and lonely. "What will become of me and my life?" she often mused. "Strange, my name means 'one love' but I don't seem to be on the road to experiencing that one love. Unless it's destined to be only me," she decided.

Groz

The alien looked alarmingly at the human lying in front of him. This wasn't supposed to be a pickup mission. He had been on many of these in the past, but usually in a craft designed for that purpose. The craft he possessed at present wasn't one he was supposed to have. It had elements of the older pick-up vessels, but its engine was experimental. The engine designers on his home planet were always experimenting with better, more efficient engine design, particularly in the area of source fuel. Carbon, or fossil fuels were used and abused eons ago by his race, as was nuclear. The more popular with most ships at present were the harnessing of cosmic waves which seemed to float through the universe. This was the method his engine had been using when the fuel problem surfaced. He was only passing by this small planet, on his way somewhere else, when the energy supply for his wave propulsion unit malfunctioned. His hybrid experimental engine was secretly 'requisitioned' for him by one of his oldest companions who operated in the giant laboratories on his home planet. If truth be told, Groz had no idea what his engine was capable of. It functioned perfectly with the wave fuel source technology, so no other hybrid type fuel sources were used or attempted. "Great!" he thought. "marooned on a backward planet with no means of leaving." Hopefully a human studies crew would happen along and notice his downed craft.

This human came too close and discovered his ship before he had time to enable the emergency cloaking functions. It was his only choice to migrate this human inside before he caused any damage, or raised any alarms. Alarms about the presence of off-planet visitors was not something Groz needed right now. Recently some hotheads from his home planet had actually invaded this planet that the humans called Earth. A venture which seemed to be going well for the invaders until they succumbed to the most violent destructive enemy on this planet... bacteria. All of the invaders died and all of their craft were destroyed or absorbed into the planet's military institutions for study and replication. Fortunately, these ships were 'old' technology, so no real threat to him and his kind were forthcoming. Humans came to call this invasion, 'The War of The Worlds'.

No, Groz did not want to be characterised by that idiotic group of hotheads.

Groz was a research scout. Someone sent out into the universe to study adlib any area of existence that he desired. The results, when he had any, usually were uploaded back to his planet's collective knowledge base and integrated with other learnings. No one cared if he did not report for hundreds of years. He was on his own and had been doing this for thousands of Earth years already. He didn't last long in the early pickup missions because of his apparent empathy for the abducted humans. It was partly his doing that these humans were eventually returned, albeit with altered minds and varying degrees of memory of the events. Before Groz, humans were simply disposed of in space when any experiments were completed. He was far happier now! Happy to roam the universe. Happy to go anywhere he desired, with no real pressure to report back. Happy to have an experimental ship which he really wasn't supposed to have. A one-of-a-kind vessel. The only way he still had the ship without other authorities out looking for him was that the laboratory which built the vessel in the first place, reported the ship and its engine as 'destroyed'. This was his companion's doing. Even in this advanced culture, subterfuge was still possible!

What to do with the human?

The human was suspended in a time lock which would effectively freeze any normal bodily aging. Groz's relations had perfected this technique with earlier experimentation on human pick-ups in the past. The early abductors had been fixated on using this human species as a source of sustenance on the long journeys through space. The ability to suspend most normal aging processes of this primitive anatomy was an advantageous step forward. It allowed the human to experience full sensation without the accompanying breakdown of bodily functions. A perfect food source! Unfortunately, the bacteria problem presented an insurmountable hurdle to this aim. Consequently, all experimentation into humans ended before it really got started.

Groz's companions really did not get to grips with human bodily functions to any great depth. Sure, they understood the basics of energy transfer and circulatory systems, but not much beyond that. The mechanics of sexual function was understood to a base degree, but it wasn't an area that held much interest simply because their own race did not function on a sexual level. There wasn't even defined genders. Body parts were not evolved to partake in sexual activity of any type. Indeed, Groz had participated a number of times in a communal 'creation wave' where groups of his race would combine thoughts and create new offspring from a collection of base elements gathered in the centre of the circle of participants. These offspring would then progress through many stages of development until they became fully functioning members of the collective, assigned their tasks as needs arose.

"Better to leave him suspended until I can better decide where to replace him," Groz thought. "But I will let him have the function of dreams, so that his time is not completely wasted."

James dreamt. His mind wandered freely from fantastical to horrific to recollections of his past. Each new dream seemed to flow from one to the other. One such dream involved a particularly beautiful Asian escort named Ahoi. She instantly took a liking to James when he first visited her in the back-street hotel. She was beautiful. His absolute dream girl. She was petite, ivory skinned, with smooth complexion and the most stunning face he had ever seen. Her smile lit up her whole face, seemingly spreading across her flawless cheeks to her wide expressive eyes. He was sure they twinkled when she smiled. Even the dark pupils seemed to colour. He could get lost in those eyes forever!

But her breasts were what did it for James. They were the perfect handful size with not a hint of sag. The nipples were centred on penny-sized, brown-coloured areolae. These nipples extended at least two centimetres out from her breasts and were a good two centimetres in diameter. To top it all off, the breasts had that upturned perky structure which almost made the nipples seem as they were pointing to the sky. James was enthralled and Ahoi knew it. His eyes darted from one magnificent feature of Ahoi's body to the other.

James knew that their session of client/escort sex was more than just that. He could feel, as if it was yesterday, how she played his body to perfection. Her slow languorous teasing of all the erotic zones of his body had him edging for what seemed like hours. She massaged his muscles seeming individually before concentrating on his more obvious areas of tension. She blew on his nipples after licking them sensuously. She lightly ran her fingernails from his neck, down his back and past his ass, before lightly, ever so lightly running over his balls, exciting every single hair on that sensitive skin. She ran her silky hands up and down over his dick until it was so hard, he was sure it would explode. The moment she gently pulled his foreskin down over his engorged purple head, James's ass rose from the bed and his back arched in an impossible attempt to penetrate something with his screaming cock.