Xenophile

If Jean had bothered to come out of the basement for longer than it took to microwave some pizza rolls and grab a second bottle of Pepsi, she might have noticed her awestruck family staring at the horror unfolding on the television screen before them.  As it was, she didn’t, so she remained blissfully unaware of the going-ons in the wider world.

The basement was her territory.  The labyrinthine shelves and makeshift cabinet-tables hid traps in the form of carefully balanced gaming books, stacks of plastic totes, and lead figurines, along with the occasional four-sided die that escaped from various bags and tackle boxes where they lives, and presumably bred.  Her younger siblings were expressly forbidden to enter the dungeon due to the chemicals she used in her painting and the fragility of some of the works in progress.

At the moment she was working on one of the more intricate creations – one of her beloved and mightily feared Tyranids.  At the moment she was assembling it, but she’d decided that this particular one would be different from the others, simply because she had almost everything she needed to play the devouring brood.  The light of her LCD computer and the magnifying glass equipped fluorescent lamp were all she needed.  Her excursions onto the forums of 4chan had netted her the advice from her fellow ca/tg/irls and smar/tg/uys she had needed to construct her most fearsome carnifex mutation yet.

Of course, it might not be game playable, but she had other uses for certain of her figurines.

She was known as a cold bitch at the hobby shops she frequented, and her exploits at the game tables in the local comic book store were near legendary.  She gently rebuffed the advances from fellow players; those who were not into the whole ‘gaming geek thing’ were not so lucky.  It wasn’t that she didn’t like them.  She actually liked many of them, and she supposed being better than the usual average amongst gamers in the looks department made advances inevitable.

She just didn’t find the human body all that appealing.

Jean supposed it was because of the incident with the snake, but that was long past.   After she’d seen the first alien movie it had become more than a mild curiosity.  She’d discovered something that could actually make her heart race.  She’d destroyed her VHS tape of Alien Resurrection, and the DVD she’d bought to replace it had been bookmarked at a very specific scene.

She lovingly applied another stroke of the newly thinned paint to her latest creation, confident it would harden into the sleep lacquer shell that she desired.  She shivered, replaying the scene where the alien carried Ripley down the organic corridors in her mind, tail moving slowly, hissing breath and gleaming black armor.  She pulled her brush away from the figurine and closed her eyes, letting her breath out slowly.

With a sigh she pushed her chair away from the table, tapping f5 as she grabbed her bottle of soda and drank from it, eyes glued to the screen.  It was quiet this morning, the usual anons and occasional tripfags mucking about pointlessly again.  The laptop’s fans whirred unhappily.  She supposed she could shut it off now and again to give them a rest, but there was always some reason to get back to it.  She glanced at her Grand Carnifex, wondering if she should add a couple of more arms, or perhaps some spined tails.  Her eyes swept over her workspace, and she frowned.  Out of superglue again; probably not the best for use, but in this case the organic look of molten plastic might actually help rather than hinder the appearance.  In face, a few more daubs would give her new pet a more Gigeresque look….

Excited by the idea – though not enough to lock herself in the dungeon and retreat to her personal corner to relieve her excitement among the statuettes and figurines of her most beautiful creations and collections – she took the steps too at a time, bare feet padding along the wooden steps.  She stepped out into the hall, frowning when she noticed most of the lights were out.

“Hey, mom?  Where’s the superglue?  I know I bought some yesterday!”  She tried to flip the hall light switch and was rewarded with the sound of clicking connections, and nothing else.  She sighed.  “Hall light’s out again!  Why don’t we get fluorescents like normal people?”  Jean pushed her horn rimmed glasses up and walked towards the living room.  “Mom?”

The television was on, showing static.  Jean’s heart froze in her chest, slowly tightening as her head filled with fuzz.  Instincts every gaming geek the world over possessed told her she’d just walked onto the set of a typical slasher movie.  She quickly glanced throughout the room, her heart starting up again with a massive jolt of caffeine augmented adrenaline.  Couldn’t get back to the kitchen; the knife drawer was always either empty or already borrowed by the badguy.  And there was a closet along the way.  Sliding glass doors might be okay; no one outside.  She looked in them, and silently cured the fact that the porch light was on, preventing any helpful – or horrifying for that matter – reflections.

She started to make her way through the living room when she kicked something soft and heavy, but yielding.  Jean swallowed heavily, and ran the top of her foot along the object.  Denim, and soft flesh under it, rounded.  Dead body.  Maybe dead body.  Probably dead body.  At least she hadn’t stepped into anything sticky yet.  Looking down she studied the body.  Inured to the effects of horror through years of specialized geek training, she coped with the sight of her brother’s dead body better than an average person.

Seeing her father half gone is where she started to feel the edges of panic crumbling into terror.

When she realized she was starting to back away she froze.  She spoke softly, “Fuck.”  Now she was in the classic quandary.  If she backed up, she would either trip over something stupid and land on her back, and when she stood back up she’d be face to face with the knife wielding maniac, If she turned around, same thing would happen, or she would see no one and the maniac would come from behind her.  So she did the reasonable thing and jumped sideways, flattening her back against the wall.

Her quick, desperate glances left and right revealed nothing and no one.  At least, that she could see; maniacs were traditionally good at ninja invisibility tricks.  Of course, now that she could think a little more clearly, not being in immediate and grave danger, she realized it couldn’t be a maniac.  Maniacs didn’t generally slice people in half.  Unless it was some dork with a ‘masterwork broadsword called a katana’.  Fucking rules lawyer morons.

Jean tried to recall if she’d pissed off any SCA geeks recently, and couldn’t come up with any.  She slid sideways along the wall, towards the doorway to her dungeon.  At least there she could come up with enough crap to take out an army of maniacs.  The sheer volume of flammables and spray-paint would give a geek the edge over any would be mass murderer.  A hysterical thought about asking advice from /x/ whipped through her racing mind and she suppressed the urge to giggle.  Some Sister of Battle she was.

She got to the door and turned the handle.  Locked, excellent.  She smiled and took the key on her charm bracelet and tucked it into the lock by feel.  She’d been forced to keep the door permanently locked after her brothers had destroyed a half dozen bases she’d freshly pained and over twenty of her favorite brood playing with the Tyranids like G.I. Joe dolls, crashing them into each other as they ‘fought’.  Pity her mom hadn’t let her auction them off to the pedos at 12chan.  She could have funded at least two more armies, and maybe gotten into the Dark Tau set.

Finally Jean got the door open and carefully slipped inside.  Once inside she sighed and leaned her head against the door, enjoying the cool wood.  She jerked her head abruptly back when she realized now was when the knife should pierce the wood next to her head.  When it didn’t happen she laughed shakily and turned to go down the stairs.

The stairway was full of it.  What it was, she wasn’t really sure.  There was gleaming silvery-black chitin, a jaw full of silvery teeth, and the sound of a steam engine hiss.  The spatter of liquid across her feet and ankles was warm and she wasn’t really sure she wanted to know what it was.  And despite the fact she had stumbled into the classic, ‘turn around and there it is’ scenario, she found heat blooming between her legs and her nipples hardening as she looked at the magnificent engine of raw destruction.  “Oh wow,” she whispered softly, knowing she was about to die in a hideous manner.  “What a way to go….”

She jerked, to shocked to scream when the jagged, sharp thing rammed into her body with the sound of tearing cloth and the hot spatter of blood.  Her body reacted to the sudden intrusion by clenching and she felt the hard, rigid thing buried deep in her derriere jetting hot liquid inside her body.  Her hands clenched and unclenched spastically, and rigid, cool chitinous protrusions rubbed between her thighs as the tail or stinger or whatever it was propped a little deeper.  Her breath was gone and she felt a deep, hot rush as she experienced her first orgasm brought on by something other than her hands or one of her toys.  The world swam and she blacked out, falling into waiting arms and mouth.

The flow of liquid across her skin finally roused her and she blinked groggily.  Her glasses were missing, and she squinted slowly.  Pins and needles ran through her arms and legs, and she felt a deep, dull ache, like she’d used a toy a size or three too large in a hole it wasn’t meant for.  She shuddered, recalling the sensations intimately, and then she finally realized she wasn’t dead.

It took her less than a minute to figure out she wasn’t going anywhere.  Thick bands of glassy resin held her suspended in a small chamber.  There were no other people in the chamber, but the walls were slick and wet, constantly oozing with the same thick liquid that ran down her body.  She tossed her head, glad she’d kept her hair short.

She was naked of course – which was only how it went in the B-grade movies, which sucked because that meant she was a goner – and most of the resin was concentrated on her arms and legs and midriff leaving her breasts and lower body bare.  “Of course,” she muttered unhappily.  Then thoughts of what would inevitably happen in a B-grade movie started running through her head and the heat flared in her center again.  Philosophically she considered herself lucky to be able to enjoy this.  She only hoped she wasn’t going to get eaten alive.

Jean heard the soft sound of something sliding along the slick, glassy material of the walls or floor – or ceiling. She realized and quickly looked up – and her body tightened, instinct making her unable to relax.  It wasn’t a xenomorph, though that was what immediately came to mind, and it wasn’t a Tyranid, but it was definitely, completely, and utterly alien.  Still….

Her eyes wandered the slick, silvery-black armor of the thing.  It’s head was elongated, and she thought she saw long glassy black hemispheres that could have been eyes spaced along it.  There were multiple appendages, some of which were being used to cling to the walls of the shaft it was climbing down.  It was incredibly agile and flexible – it was compressed to only a few feet across in the tunnel, and yet unfolded into something several feet wide as it slid from the canal into the chamber.  The image of eggs sliding out of the female sex immediately came to her and she wasn’t sure if her fetish or /d/ had made the idea appealing.

The creature had an elongated body, snake-like or centipede-like was the best she could come up with.  It slid to the floor in front of her and she could see that its body was composed of a lattice of flesh and rigid organs or bones.  There were points at which she could see straight through the thing, and her mind boggled at the biology of the thing.  It remained where it had ‘landed’ and Jean studied it, squirming in her inescapable bonds a little, all too aware of how her violated posterior ached and center throbbed.

It didn’t take her too ling to realize exactly how it was constructed and she wasn’t sure whether to be awestruck, turned on, or repulsed.  The ‘lattice’ was constructed of bones, coated in pulsing flesh and protecting organs sheathed in thick layers of muscle and pulsing blood vessels.  The outer parts held more organs and musculature, while the head and spinal column – if it had a spine – were overlapping plates of chitin.  The arms and legs of the thing were more conglomerations of bone and flesh and as she marveled at the creature’s machinelike grace she felt her desires intensifying.  “You’re such a pervert Jean,” she murmured to herself.

The thing was moving and she tensed, its sheer size making her nervous.  The head shifted back and forth, the jaws splitting into multiple pieces.  Tongues – or something like them – slid out form the various mandibles and ran along her skin where the warm liquid flowed over her.  She shuddered and closed her eyes.  Yeah, tentacle sex.  The damn weeaboos probably had it right: the girls eventually enjoyed it didn’t they?  The tendrils slid along her skin, licking her slowly and she shuddered when she felt the brush of sharp teeth along her arm.  Then one slid along her ribs, her breast.  She moaned softly, and wished she could at least bring her legs together so she could get off before it took a bite out of her.

The tentacles swarmed, sliding over her breasts and her throat and she made a soft, involuntary noise, as the sensation intensified.  This is probably what it felt like to have a bunch of guys lick you all over.  And that image wasn’t arousing.  She opened her eyes and she was soaked, instantly, looking into the gaping maw of something not of her world.  Jean watched the long black tongues slide over her breasts and she gasped as her nipples were licked multiple times as the tongues passed over them.  Then they moved down, sliding over the glassy resin and lower….and she thrust her hips, feeling the tongue moving along her belly, headed for the place she wanted them to go most of all.

The sensation of them sliding through her pubes, her cunt was the most intense sensation – aside from getting anally raped by a fucking stinger! – she’d ever experienced in her life.  Jean felt the slick, hot tongues move across her nether lips, not entering, just sliding over them, and she warned, “You’d better not fucking….uhhh….fuckin’ bite me down there….”

The creature ignored her, and she really hadn’t expected it to listen.  Too soon the tongue were moving away and she shuddered – which turned into a startled yelp as the damn thing licked her asshole, leaving a distinct stinging sensation.  “Fucking SQUIG!”

The thing paused and she froze, wondering if she’d just signed her own death warrant.  Then something unfolded from beneath it and she swallowed heavily.  There was only one reason in any movie in the world something unfolded from the lower middle section of any alien.  The tube was as thick around as her wrist and she stared as it pulsed heavily.  She saw the end flex and reveal what were undoubtedly teeth-like things on the end of it.  “Oh, hell….”  It folded inward again and she swallowed nervously....and was nearly dripping wet.  The delicate looking biomechanical lattice of the tube’s outer covering came closer and the thick meat of it extended as it moved closer, the rest of the alien only breathing and pulsing heavily – if what it was doing was actually breathing at all.

She tried to relax and true to form, the tentacle slowly moved to the places between her legs.  She tried to breathe normally, but anticipation and her racing heat made that impossible.  At least she was going to get off one more time.  Jean relaxed and then groaned as the thick, bulbous tip worked its way along her cunt, slowly pushing into her.  It rubbed her clit forcefully and she grit her teeth, ignoring the pain.  “Fucking virgin aliens, shit….”   Then the knob slipped along her slit again and pushed, sliding deep into her body.  She came immediately the exotic sensation too much.  It worked its way into her and then paused and she felt it rippling, moving….and then she screamed as it did something incredibly painful inside her.  The pain passed surprisingly quickly and she was left gasping for breath.  Jean felt a warm, deep heat bloom inside her body, and her vision blurred even further.  “God damn, that’s better than Ex….”

She felt at peace, the drugs or hormones or what the fuck ever working their way into her body.  She felt tired and warm, peaceful and full….she glanced down, her belly swollen and taut.  It didn’t hurt at all, and the pleasure as the thing slowly slid out of her with a gush of yellowish liquids was almost enough for a second orgasm.

She barely remembered the next few hours, drifting in and out of a pleasure-filled haze of warm wetness and hallucinatory fantasy.  The creature folded the tube back into it's body and simply sat there, and she found herself wanting more of it's attention.  She didn't worry about it too much, though.  The first sensations of things moving from in her body were not unpleasant and she felt something pushing at her from within, attempting to escape via her previously violated cervix.  She squirmed, not unhappily, and then she came as several long, slick, writhing things slid from inside her and were deftly snatched out of the air as they fell from her sex.

Looking down she saw her belly had becoming more hollowed out, discolored, and her ribs had been….changed.  She was being remade from the inside out, slowly and expertly, and she was enjoying it intensely.  The creatures she’d delivered were smaller than and not nearly as complex as the thing in front of her but they were the same species, undoubtedly.  She giggled giddily, imagining how a man would react to giving birth to such things, and threw herself into fantasy and dreams of being remade, reborn….

It was not long before new creatures joined the invading armies; humanoid, almost feminine creatures that would rape and then kill whomever they found, taking specific organs.  Organs meant to carry the genes of humankind between one another.  Humanity would soon be going to the stars.  But not as they once were….

~End~