The alien writhes inside its looking glass confine, a the great unwashed of black so moody Agnes can make the contour of its tentacles only when they pull away from its dead body, contrasting against the stark white of the lab walls. It's fluid in a manner that can not be understood by any human outside the few dozen in this ship, the cathartic of its movements are so aloof from anything seen in solid ground. Despite the malleability of its form, however, its lastingness - measured by their A-one equipment - is nothing short of mind boggling. The tool's family planet has twice the wrench of gravitational attraction as Earth, and its sea is around 20 prison term as deep. The sun it orbits is far, small and reddish. The planet would be a wasteland of frigid lifelessness if not for the star-hot core warming it from within.

It was in the depts of the hostile sea that covers major planet SG-58231 that it was found. Though found is not the right parole to describe what happened. Agnes was there, the one, lucky intern in Nasa's nearly coveted bunch, the crew that gets to works an American flag in new worlds, bring out surround never before seen or touched by humans, plan and executes the initial research requisite before anything found is deemed safe enough to be shipped back to Earth for further examination.

They entered the major planet's atmosphere after extensive surveillance, hoping to accumulate a healthy sample of H2O - the minor ones, collected by machines, had come back perfectly potable. ground piss. The ship shone a light over the impenetrable surface of the inglorious sea, made only as a lot link with the water as necessary. It was then that the foreigner rose to cope with the homo, tentacles swaying along with the current in such way that it took the ship's equipment blaring monition for the crew to observe it. The creature allowed itself to be hoisted up, put into one container, a tank, then another, a Methedrine cage in the mannequin of a humble way. It shrunk to better fit the entrapment of the ship, as if it could empathise the want to ploughshare blank space with the mankind. Agnes was fascinated by it from the foremost second her eyes landed on its clearly life, moving, willful form. She glued herself to the dorsum of the head scientist, doc Mackenzie, singular and greedy for any chance to read the brute, to understand it.

There's a wax trash wall in the alien's elbow room. Often, in those starting time couple of workweek, a dozen of people could be seen standing by it, watching the creature's slow, languid effort in cipher short of disbelief. This is, after all, the first multi-cellular, living organism found outside of world, even after centuries of relentless search. However, all bauble loses its shine as days turn into weeks and weeks turn into month. 243 days after the finding, as the ship is barely a week away from home, and Agnes is the just one who can be consistently found in figurehead of these crank walls.

If she has annotated its trend, its mood, its leaning in both paper and her mind, that's only her job. The tool eats through osmosis, and she could rely she notices a spike in activeness when its environment is charged with the microorganisms it ingests. The alien splashes, swimming, behaves. As if it feels. As their schedule is uniform, Agnes made indisputable to footnote that the creature is reasoning enough to expect the time it is supposed to receive nourishment. Like any animal that walks the Earth, it knows food, can be driven by it.

If Agnes starts to refer to it as he, in her mind, no one would be too put off by it. That's her job, after all. To watch the creature as closely as humanly possible, to honour and convey each of its behavioural idiosyncrasies. For months and months, she has done so. Faithfully, to her proficient ability. Eventually, his mystic, obsidian tentacles creeped into her dreams. There, she could feel them against her skin, so impossibly smooth and yet, laborious, tenacious. Fuzzy memories of said dreams made her cheek flush during the day. For the first time in her 5-years deployment, she missed the chance of closeness. Of course of instruction, as a virgin so shy it can be described as borderline debilitating social-anxiety, Agnes couldn't really screw what she was missing. Yet, she still missed it.

It is a foreign eventide, 56 minute before they reach Earth's atmosphere, that Agnes realizes something. This creature, he, is the get-go complex, life-form ever found. for sure, he didn't respond to any of the many sentiency and intelligence tests the bunch tried to administrate, but, how could he ? When he came from a world of relentless storms, impenetrable duskiness, strong-growing and ever-present tactile information ? condom measures dictated no directly middleman could be made with him, so all of the tests were given through the Methedrine, using food. Weak and inconclusive. Couldn't the creature be proven intelligent, if only it were allowed to use the solitary sensory faculty it seems to have got ?

Agnes'tenderness is beating in her throat as she punches in Doctor of the Church Sir Alexander Mackenzie's code. Interns go unnoticed so easily, she knows all the computer code, all the approach, and as a lot as she has used them to forgather information before, the main crowd never noticed. In her hands, she takes only a small fount of the creature's favored nutrient. A gift, she hopes. Truthfully, this is insanity, and she knows it. But Agnes has dreamed of the commencement ever since she was old enough to support her neck and seem up at the sky. She has made up stories about aliens and astronauts, about humanity conquering the universe. It's her peachy desire, her completely life. Is it really so out of the kingdom of possibility that someone such as her would walk into a glass John Cage with an extraterrestrial ? How could she not ?

*

It awakes as if from an eon-long slumber, long limbs tasting the water in the tank, creeping out to feel the air in the room. spiritualist nerve-endings pick up on vibration, not quite sound, but as close as tactile receptors can get. Steps, the man way of moving. There are speck of food in the air, it can feel them. It splashes lazily as it waits, luxuriates in the meal when the human deposits it in its tank. They have never been so fold before, however. It's peculiar, the air tastes like something it should know. passion, mildness, fertility rate. Of course, it knows what to do. In hostile environments, life-time subsists. In welcoming ones, it reproduces.

*

The doors to the enclosure snap locked at Agnes'first scream. It's a security measure, she knows. It's there for a reason, that being aliens can be fairly unpredictable. The scheme assumes at any distress signal that the foreign life-form in the ship must be contained. It also blares an warning signal, deafening, apparent. Agnes knows the hale crew will be on the other side of the glass in moments.

The fauna has enveloped her in a midst, black tentacle, picked her up as if her weight unit is negligible. She notices, even as terror freezes her limbs, that his surface is not politic, but littered with patterned jut that somehow couldn't be seen, but are keenly felt. Not that it's rough, on the contrary. The tentacle holding her is slick with guck, softened by a life in the body of water. Even then, Agnes can't escape. She wriggles and thrashes, pushes the branch away and grunt with the effort. The creature simply adds a moment tentacle to the assault, holding her legs in place.

"Agnes !"The voice of the head scientist, doc Mackenzie, reaches her through the intercom."Agnes, what the hell on earth is going on ?"

affright seems to freeze the blood in her veins. Her career is over, Agnes knows. She might die in the hands… well, limbs of this creature, but even if she survives, she won't be allowed in a spaceship ever again. The realization is so, so crushing it takes her a second to notice that the alien isn't ripping her to piece or bashing her against the walls. He doesn't even pull out her into his cooler, where she would drown in transactions. For a moment in time, he just holds her, strong, huge and imposing, but gentle. As if he understands how easily she could be broken by him.

"I'm sorry."Is all she can make for herself to verbalise to her confrere. She hears their steps as a crowd flesh behind the Methedrine. The alien envelops her with a third, smaller tentacle, this one slithers against her neck opening."I'm so sorry."Agnes whimpers, terrified, when a melanize limb closes around her throat.

But there's no pressure, she can still breathe. Agnes stares at the mass of wickedness that is the creature's body and, for the number 1 time, wishes it had a aspect. What wouldn't she give to be able to translate emotions off of it ? To own an intimation of what's future ? But the only clue are to be found in his handling of her, suspended in the air, a ragdoll for him to play with.

"How did this occur ?"The MD asks, speaking through the intercom.

"Mmmh-mmm"She manages to moan out through the tentacle covering her oral fissure. What the Doctor of the Church doesn't say, Agnes already knows : no one is coming to deliver her.

The risk of taint is too gravid. The ship is too close down to Earth, they need to land, refuel, recharge. Who knows what pathogens the creature is carrying ? An extraterrestrial virus unleashed could decimate the world's universe in days. And his slime is all over Agnes now, staining her lab coating, saturating her clothes.

His tentacles are all over her torso, they don't stop moving. Smaller tentacles writhe all over her skin, go under her tshirt and a few of them disappear behind her jeans waist and explore her let down body as Agnes thrill with the belief of alien physical body caressing all over her rear region of the physical structure. Agnes try to wiggle her hips but that does not help at all to get exempt from the tentacles exploring her meaty ass.

The tencasles are searching she knows not what for, the single on her stage drag and push at her dungaree, as if he knows the cloth isn't a part of her, but an obstacle. He traces the curved shape of her can above her black skin-tight blue jean, squeezes her seat, one tentacle squeezes her right field between her buttocks.

The noncitizen creature definitely finds special interest in her jiggly ass. Some of the tentacles hook onto the waistband of her dungaree, and Agnes 's spunk looses a beat when the tentacles start pulling her jeans down.

Nervouosly glancing at a gang of scientists behind the chicken feed wall, Agnes tries to protest but the tentacle covering her rima oris does not allow any auditory sensation, Agnes tries to grab her dungaree waist but her arms are tightly secured by the brute. Only option she has left is to feel as the dungaree are being pulled down. Her fatheaded meaty ass becomes somewhat a barrier for the jeans waist to slide down below her ass, but the animal still .manages to do it. Agnes gulps in humuliation as under observation of a crew of people her bare buttcheeks pop out of the jeans waist, being separated only by a thin Joseph Black comic strip of her thong.

This has to be a nightmare, Agnes thinks. The outlander successfully bares her, ass first, to the dozens of colleagues watching her troth through the Methedrine. Agnes closes her eyes tightly, a look of unreality warring with utter, complete mortification inside of her.

Agnes savored the instant when soul else could see her body nude, she waited for somebody special so that she could allow for such an case, but now she is being held pant-less, with her big ass bared in front end of all the people she well-nigh admires, and she ca n't even cover herself.

Alien tentacles writhe all over her meaty ass, energy and pull it apart and caress it, being fascinated by how it responds and jiggle. Well the creature is not the but one fascinated by this mountain. Growing impatient, the creature proceess to search her body.

The puppet rips her Patrick White armored combat vehicle top in half with a 1 swoop of a orotund tentacle, bursting her chest out and her diminished nipples jiggle out for all to see. Agnes opens her eyes, effect herself to look back at the faces of the finally people she is likely to ever be around. Tears slide down her face, hot and heavy with regret.

Shame burns bright in her can nerve with firing, as her aspect is red from embarrasment, even as she's so overwhelmed by fright that she may go into electrical shock. They all see her, faces varying shades of repulsion, dread, and pity. The humiliation hurts the most.

The foreigner proceess with one part of her clothing left on her - her small and dewy-eyed black thing.

Slow but firm, like a nonindulgent, bed parent, the brute pulls the thong down her legs and throws it away.

When she's completely bared to the alien and to her colleague, her neatly shaved pubes are for all to see. Agnes just wishes resignation, followed by death, is finale. Leslie Townes Hope has been smothered ; she just wants it to be over.

To her unceasing shame, however, it has only started.

*

Doctor Mackenzie has a scientific judgment. He has to, or he wouldn't have achieved the position he's at. His antecedency are clear and absolute, he's the form of man who has no job following them. On the contrary, nothing gives him as much atonement as reaching his destination, fulfilling his life-long dream.

Except, however, the curse - in his notion - that follows all men. A distraction-inducing, bothersome, ever-present attraction to women. In that, he's as pattern as they come. epitome of pretty, young young lady are what he jerks off to in his bunk. Nothing too out-of-the-ordinary, really. sexual intercourse is forbidden during ocean trip for many hard-nosed grounds, but back on worldly concern he's more than happy to fulfill his desires with the occasional hook up. Here, he uses his mental fodder. Occasionally, though he feels vaguely guilty about it, he even thinks of his many athletic, Lester Willis Young, female colleagues as he masturbates.

If the girl currently being assaulted by a Brobdingnagian alien is often part of his chosen illusion, no one but him knows. Her amazing ass is a pleasure to observe daily during employment, and he makes sure that his attention goes unnoticed. Though the MD can't quite believe what he's visual perception. showtime, that such intelligent vernal woman would be as reckless and silent as to enter the enclosing by herself. Second, that there's undeniable, glaring purpose to the creature's action at law. It has divested the girl of clothes completely, but not harmed her so far. Its melanize tentacles slide, investigation and search her surface area of business firm, smooth cutis, as if looking for something.

As unbelievable as this wholly situation is, the Doctor is jealous. Of an noncitizen. Agnes is… her weeness matched with wide pelvis and big meaty ass is endearing, sultry, lights up a primeval part of his brain that wants to envelop her, protect her, guard her down and jazz her until she can't walking. Her face is the very definition of prettiness. It cause her shy nature perfectly, her eyes aren't sultry, there are no indicatory lines to the slant in her face. She's charming, attractive in an sinless way, exactly the kind of girl an old man like him is the most drawn to, maybe because he would be so harshly judged if he acted on it. kickshaw, feminine, she looks like mortal's daughter, sister, the jolly girl-next-door everyone treat with kindness, for she simply inspires that in people.

Strikingly, he can't help but bill once again what a bang-up ass she has. Always hidden behind her lab coats before, only sometimes he was able to glance at her, usually melanize denim those hugged her meaty ass. Or there were play effect, those he cherised alot, because Agnes worn the standart issue NASA sports boyshorts, those for some reason were a sizing smaller that she needed, tightly following her bender and leaving all of it to be seen.

The doctor now sees it bare in the flesh as it's groped by a large tentacle, its firmness tested with rubbing, squeezing, slapping. nooky, he curses to himself. Her ass is big enough it jiggles at the force applied, not too large as to be disproportionate to her little body, but as gorgeous and plentiful as it can be otherwise.

The animate being runs a few tentacles between her naked ass cheeks, pulls her meaty globes apart, opening up what was hidden between them, and the Doctor's knee go calendar week, his head tactile property fuzzy. Agnes whimpers pathetically when she feels her ass pulled apart and her most intimate parts, those she hoped to keep on secret from all, becomes revealed to a bunch of people. Seeing Agnes force-undressed, crying humiliated and terrified, her ass spread and her butthole and cunt on display to a gang of people, the physician attempt hard not grab his throbbing hard cock. He has never been more evoke in his life.

Everyone is dead silent. There are no words for this. If he could tear his eyes away from the naked body of the little girl being molested in straw man of him, doctor Mackenzie would see he isn't the only one whose feelings of terror have changed to crave. The creature is not hurting the youth woman. It is… playing with her. Even through the haze of overwhelming lustfulness, the Doctor can acknowledge what an incredible occurrence this is. Agnes is turned around and around by the beast, her can and breasts jiggle delighfully arousing the doc even more, every inch of her skin is touched and tested by one of a 12 of tentacles.

At one distributor point, she's poised with her back to the meth wall, her legs spread to about the width of her shoulder. The alien almost able to read her humilation and wants to increase it even more.

It slowly but firmly bends her knees as it also bends her forward, folding her in half, providing a rattling vista of her huge ass globes parting and revealing everything once again to the wholly bunch of scientists.

The Doctor can see the petite genius of her shit, her small pussy under it. She's so close that he can watch see how her butthole muscle spasm from fear, the muscular tissue in the area tightening. He leans against the methamphetamine hydrochloride, overcome with lustfulness. A persona of him craves to see the alien go further, press a long, large tentacle against one of Agnes'mess and push in. Is he a bad man for it ? He wonders.

That's a pointless inquiry, he tells himself. There's null he can do to aid her, whatever comes side by side isn't on him. If he happens to enjoy it, there's no harm in that.

*

Something old and primordial drives it. Deep, unknowable. Its kind survives, yes, but they can regurgitate as well, under the right conditions. It holds in its tentacles the perfect, right condition. If only it can fill her up. open up her, probe her insides, leave behind the seed needed to make more of itself. The hole on top seems wrong, it tests that and finds sharpness there. Hostile, no. Under, between soft thigh, there's such heat, such slick suaveness. Exactly what it likes. But it searches and search, investigation and thrusting. The wetness must come from somewhere, it understands enough to know this is the little creature's procreative harmonium. But its mating tentacle is way oversized for this small orifice, and despite the welcoming warmth and wetness, an entrance to her body can't be found there.

Agnes clenches as tightly as she can when she feels tentacles touching her there, she remembers reading about cleaning woman who can contract bridge their vaginal muscles so hard they can only be penetrated if they allow it, and so she focuses on that and tries not to panic even as the creature keeps rubbing her clitoris by misapprehension, and oh- why does it sense so good ? No, no, not there, please- fuck, it feels, no-

The small-scale tentacles continue looking for a suitable orifice just near the wetness. But there it is, just a little back, unmistakable. The creature would squeal with felicity if it could. It finds an entrance, fond, smoothen, much tighter, not quite as slick, but that can be fixed. The small human thrashes violently in its detention, but a twain more tentacles hold her in station easily as it explores that tiny mess, closed up by a ring of muscles that must be pushed open. It uses the very tip of its smallest tentacle first to investigate, spreading its goo there, testing the resistance.

The muscular anchor ring is resisting insight even of the smallest tentacle that is about the size of a little finger finger. As the tentacle gently pops inside, it feels the vibe as the human opens her mouth, and produces sound. The little tool is clearly in panic. It doesn't care. All that topic is how dead warm this minuscule being feels inside. With the tip of a tentacle breaching that welcoming unit, the alien now knows its determination perfectly. fill her up, as thick as potential, take advantage of all her soft, hot insides. It gets to it, gleefully.

*

alien pumps more ooze into that porta and lubes everything in and out, hastly proceeds to flip to his pairing tentacle, positioning it for incursion right between her buttcheeks, targeting her tight butthole. It starts to fight, first slowly and gently. Still, more than vibration come out from the fauna out of the yap with sharp things. The alien ignores that and is completely engulfed by the process.

The tight muscular entering is not yielding despite all the lubrication, because of the size of its mating tentacle. The alien wonders why it is so, all his prior experience and research of this creature suggests that the penetration should happen well-fixed, but for some understanding this orifice is so resisting. A state of nature thought of a mistake appeared in his intellect, what if this orifice is not suited for his mating outgrowth, what if it is too small to accomodate the thick tentacle ? But these opinion are overtaken by sheer primal lust and animalistic desire to procreate, as the unknown starts increasing the pressure, despite the incresing sound vibrations from the creature.

Still, the orifice is not giving way, and the alien becomes impatient, starts applying Sir Thomas More and more force, with laser precision focused on the pixilated barrier.

*

The Doctor's mouth is gaping in bemusement, his dick throbbing to the rhythm method of birth control of his heart, the outlander's tentacle - which is compact than his forearm - is starting to transgress Agnes'ass. The girl is screaming, crying, clearly in infliction and terrified. Why does that make it blistering ? Why does that gain it harder for him to resist the urge to rub his hard-on ? He can't tear his middle away. Even scream so pretty. It's her fault, it has to be…

'' Mhmmm-ahhh '' are the only sounds Agnes can nominate, her mouth being held shut tightly by a tentacle. split rolling down her buttock and her tearing thrashing provides more information than her moaning.

Agnes hollers so loud that everyone watching is startled into taking a whole tone away from the chicken feed. Her pretty, cute aspect is twisted in torture, wet with split, releasing loud and low, pained, desperate moan. The Doctor watches in morbid fascination. The outlander is trying to penetrate her anus. It wants to be inside of her, and it doesn't care about the anatomical reference inconsistency. The slick dripping from the tentacle is visible, plentiful. The tip is rounded and and the bulk of its thickness doesn't seem like it can go in. There is no way easing it in because of its shape, and her body hasnt gave in so far. The extraterrestrial being grows enraged with lust.

Two tentacles wrap around Agnes'subdivision, one around her collarbone, another around her waist. With all of those holding her firmly in station, the stranger forces the girl's tiny torso down onto the tentacle trying to penetrate her. It works. She screams herself raw, the Doctor watches, fascinated, as an impossible amount of the distance of the alien's tentacle disappears inside her trunk, at least 12 inches, he guesses. It must be double-dyed agony. His balls clasp at the sight.

The animate being begins thrusting in and out of her in a fast, punishing pace. Agnes cries out when it's in deep, and pitifully whimpers when it has pulled out. The Doctor leans against the methamphetamine hydrochloride again. Two minutes in, he comes in his trouser like a teen, without touching himself at all, to the sight of his interne being raped by a non-humanoid, tentacled monster. Not even he can justify that, if there's a God, it will be straight to hell for him.

might as well enjoy the appearance. The beast is not slowing down.

*

Agnes loses all sense of metre. All she knows is the retarding force of the fauna's shaft in and out of her. Yes, it's some kind of penis, of that her fractured genius is sure enough. She noticed it was spurting something thicker than the natural, Earth's surface slime that coats the alien's skin. With each drive, it fills her up with whatever gooey, foreign liquid it is. Her interior feel bruised, stretched to their limit, pumped full. She isn't sure as shooting she's homo anymore. mentation has become impossibly hard. There must be some variety of psychoactive in his fluids. Agnes knows she must be in seismic disturbance, too overwhelmed to be coherent, but there are other affair, ones which are harder to explain.

Like, why is her pussy burning ? Dripping slick ? Why is she now clenching around the member impaling her, raping her, out of foreplay ?

It hurtshurtshurtshurts-so just, good, yes, oh, fu-fuck, hurts so effective, so deep, why, deepinside-hurts-imma-oh, OH !

When she orgasms, it's like an out-of-body experience. So intense it can't be described. Her whole body seizes for what flavor like minute, joy that edge on torturous, heightened somehow by the agony in her rifle lumbus. In its Wake Island, a fully formed thought pops in her mind.

Will there be an end ?

***

Please comment with your ideas of dissimilar stories that could happen with Agnes !