Alleycat

	Harry turned the corner at a breakneck pace, his shoes squeaking on the station's metal floor as he dove out of view of his pursuer. He pressed himself flush against a nearby wall, trying desperately to get his labored breathing under control lest it give away his position.
	A shadow loomed, a pair of round ears atop its head, and he held his breath as a Borealan darkened the alleyway. She was eight feet of muscle and death, the long claws that tipped her furry hands held ready to slice as she sniffed the air experimentally with her feline nose.
	She had abdominal muscles that could have been used as a washboard, her midriff exposed, a pair of Navy shorts and a tank top all that she was wearing. Her thighs were as round as tree trunks, her dark skin glistening with fresh sweat from their frenzied chase. The imposing alien had striking hair and fur. It was orange in color with faded stripes like a tiger, confined to her forearms and lower legs, leaving the rest of her skin clear. Her long tail waved back and forth, a sign of irritation, her green eyes scanning for his presence.
	Harry was being hunted.
	He closed his eyes, praying that she would pass him by, his heart hammering in his chest. All he had done was bump into her on the torus. He had been so concentrated on his tablet computer that he hadn't even seen the giant alien, swaggering along with her pack and taking up half of the damned walkway. He had run right into her, like walking into a wall of muscle, and when he had attempted to apologize she had lunged at him. What had followed by a frantic chase through the crowds that always clogged the station, Harry making good use of his smaller stature to weave between the pedestrians, managing to outpace her.
	She had tracked him all the way here however, she was like a damned bloodhound, could she have picked up his scent?
	He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, daring to take another look. She seemed to be gone, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He inched towards freedom, painfully conscious of the sound that his boots were making on the ground. Even if he couldn't see her, she would be able to hear him, she had ears like a pair of radar dishes.
	As he reached the entrance to the alleyway, a shadow loomed over him, casting him into darkness. He took a step back, his hands trembling as he held them up defensively, the Borealan marching towards him. Her black claws squealed against the hull, her long tail waving back and forth as she wet her lips in anticipation.
	“Well well well, thought you could escape from me, did you? You can't run from me, boy, you'll just die tired.”
	Harry stumbled and fell on his ass, the towering creature reaching down to grab him by the collar, thrusting him up against the wall with his shoes dangling two feet off the floor.
	“Y-You're going to kill me?” He stammered.
	“Not before teaching you some manners,” she said, stroking his cheek with one of her clawed fingers. Her furious expression had turned sultry, and Harry felt a pang of fear in his stomach. What was she going to do to him? She cut him with her hooked talon, just deep enough to draw a trickle of blood. Her long, sinuous tongue snaked out of her mouth and licked it up, leaving a trail of viscous saliva that hung from his face in thick strands.
	“Maybe we can talk about this?” Harry chuckled nervously, making a futile attempt to diffuse the situation. “Surely there's no need for violence? I mean-”
	She forced her lips against his, the familiar metallic taste of someone else's saliva setting his neurons alight like a spark in dry grass. His body flooded with warmth as he melted into her embrace, fear quickly turning to confusion, then arousal.
	He felt her tongue probe his mouth, her kiss becoming more aggressive and invasive, pushing past his lips to explore him. It was huge, tapered, seemingly unending as it piled into his head and bulged his cheeks. The underside was as smooth as his own when he ran his far smaller organ over it, but the top was rough and covered in dull barbs. It was like a cat's tongue, rough like sandpaper.
	She was wanton, shameless, her viscous saliva leaking from their joined lips as her long organ coiled and twisted inside his mouth as if it had a life of its own. She left no part of him untouched, practically fucking him with her tongue, a lurid sex act more than anything resembling a kiss. He started to see darkness creeping at the corners of his vision, she wasn't giving him room to breathe, she probably hadn't taken his smaller lung capacity into account. She let him take a breath for a moment, thick strings of her viscous saliva linking their lips as she watched him pant.
	“Wait,” he stammered, “I have to explain how jump drives work.”
	She ignored him, resuming her sordid kiss. Harry battled against it as it pushed deeper, strong and thick, the roving muscle pushing his own aside with little effort as it glanced his throat. She felt him flinch and tightened her grip on him, his eyes watering as she pushed into his gullet. Harry immediately gagged, dry heaving as the alien dropped him to the floor in alarm.
	“What the hell is wrong with you?” The Borealan asked.
	“Are you trying to make me throw up?” Harry protested. “Ever heard of a gag reflex?”
	“I'll show you a gag reflex,” she said, lunging forward and taking a handful of his hair. She tugged him closer, Harry looking up in awe of the alien.
	Her wide hips tapered into an hourglass waist, her shorts so tight that they creaked when she moved, leaving nothing to the imagination. Her thighs were as thick and as round as oil barrels, such that he doubted his fingers would meet on the other side were he to wrap his arms around one. Muscles like suspension cables bulged from beneath her burnished skin, so dark that it was almost black, shining with a layer of sweat that only served to further accentuate her anatomy in the alley's dim light. Her belly was tight and firm, with twin rows of abdominal muscles that were as chiseled as those of a Greek statue. It was a body that would put an Olympic athlete to shame.
	He watched a bead of sweat follow the deep channel that her abs cut in her skin as it trickled towards her navel, and he swallowed hard, trying to conceal his obvious attraction to her.
	She unzipped her shorts and pulled them down, tugging him closer so that he was level with her crotch. She pulled her white panties aside, soaked with sweat and stained with viscous fluid. Harry watched as fat ropes of her viscous excitement clung to the fabric, viscous and stringy, ropes of it breaking to fall to the floor viscously.
	“It's so damned viscous,” he muttered, watching with bated breath as she exposed her pink lips to him.
	“Never mind its damned viscosity,” she said, “get to it.”
	He crawled his lips up her hip, kissing and nibbling as he went, feeling her massive body jerk and twitch at the lightest touch. Her skin was warm and salty, the sudor that coated it making it glisten like she was covered in fresh dew. He slipped his tongue into her navel as he passed it, moving up past her belly and feeling the hardness of her abdominal muscles greet him, tensing as he traced their contours. He kissed their firm surface, feeling her twitch beneath his lips, her skin so damp that she might have just left a shower.
	“Yeah, like that,” she whispered. “Put that smooth tongue to work.”
	He hesitated for a moment, his assailant shivering as he breathed warm air on her swollen lips, and so she took him by the hair again and slammed his face into her crotch. She closed her steely thighs around his head to trap him there, soft despite the powerful muscles that lurked beneath the fat, and he felt her viscous juices spill around his mouth.
	She rolled her hips as he mouthed and lapped at her vulva, grinding against his face as if seeking out more stimulation, those mesmerizing abs twisting and flexing above him. Her flesh was almost hot enough to burn, her movements incessant, she was really enjoying herself.
	“That's right fuccboi, how does it taste?”
	“Like salty milk and coins,” he stammered, his mouth full of her viscous excitement.
	He ran the tip of his tongue over her subtle creases and folds, tracing the contours of her sex as her viscous excitement coated his lips and ran down his chin to hang in strands. Everything about her was larger and more exaggerated than anything that he was used to. He tasted the sweat on her dark skin, her sour juices, her feminine scent filling his nose as he lapped and mouthed.
	They were suddenly interrupted by a voice that echoed through the alley.
	“Hey! What the hell is going on here?”
	Harry glanced to his left, seeing a man standing a few feet away from them with a baton clasped in his hands. It was an MP, clad in a Navy blue uniform and wearing a white sash with a matching helmet.
	“Oh thank God,” Harry stammered. “Please help! She's so sweaty but it doesn't make any sense, it's not even that hot!”
	“You're going to prison, lady,” the MP said as the pointed the baton at her. She gave him a confused look, cocking her head as she released her hold on Harry's hair, letting him fall to the floor.
	“Why?”
	“It's illegal to rape people, that's why.”
	She looked at him for a moment, then turned her head back to Harry, then back to the MP again. She burst into laughter, doubling over and slapping her thigh with her furry hand.
	“You had me going there for a second, nice one. Seriously though, do you want in on this rape or not? He's not really putting up any kind of resistance, you can pretty much do whatever you want with him and he'll just spout expository dialogue at awkward moments.”
	“Nope, I'm taking you in sunshine.”
	The Borealan's muscles rippled as she took a defensive stance, her sharp teeth bared as her brow furrowed. Her claws glinted in the light, savage weapons that looked like they could have gutted a cow with a single blow.
	She lunged towards the MP, swiping at him with her claws, but she had forgotten that her shorts were still around her ankles. She stumbled, and the MP took advantage of the opening, ducking under her arm as the blow missed him by an inch. He jabbed the end of his baton into her belly, the Borealan doubling over. He hit a switch and there was a loud crack, electricity coursing through the alien's body. She tensed up, as stiff as a board, then toppled heavily to the floor. She lay there twitching as the MP stepped over her prone form, extending a hand towards Harry.
	He took it, and the MP pulled him to his feet.
	“Want to come back to my apartment and watch Micheal Caine movies?” Harry asked.
	“Yes,” the MP replied, “yes I do.”

THE END

lol April fools