Mike and Malok

Copyright© 2014 by mcguy101

Science Fiction Sex Story: Prologue - Yes, you know how this works: Modern man transported to alien world that is a clone of prehistoric Earth. Here's my take. Thanks to cmsix for the inspiration.

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Consensual   Drunk/Drugged   Mind Control   Reluctant   Romantic   Lesbian   Heterosexual   Science Fiction   Extra Sensory Perception   Far Past   Time Travel   Group Sex   Harem   Polygamy/Polyamory   Interracial   Black Female   White Male   White Female   Oriental Female   Hispanic Female   Anal Sex   Oral Sex   Squirting   Big Breasts   Prostitution   Violent   Science fiction adult story, sci-fi adult story, science fiction sex story, sci-fi sex story, sci-fi time travel story

Michael Kiley sat in the exam room. As a fairly advanced victim of Parkinson's disease, he knew he did not have long. A year? Six months? he thought. His tremors had continued to worsen, as speech became more difficult. Aside from the health aide who came a few times a week, and the doctor he was about to see, he had nobody in his life. If it were not for them, he might have welcomed death.

He was awoken from his thoughts by a knock on the door. "Come in," said Mike.

A man who appeared to be in his late forties entered. "Hello Mike," greeted Mike's Neurologist, Dr. Marcus.

"Hi," stated Mike, keeping his answers short, reflecting his difficulty speaking.

"I see from my notes that the new meds are not having the desired effect."


Dr. Marcus shook his head. "I was worried that would be the case," he said, before pausing with a pensive look in his eyes. "Mike, I'm going to be frank with you. There is a way that I can save your life, but I have to have your word that you'll tell no one."

"Of ... course ... a ... new ... trial med?" stuttered Mike.

"No. You'll think me crazy at first, but I'm hoping that you'll agree to a little proposition I have for you."

Mike sat and listened to the doctor's confession. After hearing it, he agreed with the doctor's self-assessment: The doctor was crazy.

Doctor Alvin Marcus was regarded as one of the world's foremost neurologists. He had developed, or at least been involved in developing a number of treatments for various neurological conditions. Now this famous doctor was telling his apparently favorite patient that he was a space alien. He was also telling him that humanity was in danger of being totally eradicated and Marcus was its sole staunch defender. While he considered the notion preposterous, Mike wanted to get to the bottom of what Marcus was telling him. "If true ... why ... defend usssss?" slurred the patient.

"Because I've lived among your kind for forty years. Yes, your race can be barbaric and indifferent to the plight of its own, but your kind has its accomplishments and has the potential to accomplish so much more," he said before pausing, "It's hard for me to be objective because I've formed attachments to many of your kind, including you, Mike."


"Yes, my friend. In the two years I've known you, you've handled your condition with the grace and poise, yet determination that represent the best of humanity. I've also made other friends and should I add ... closer acquaintances."

"That's ... right ... You're ... married."

"Yes. There are also four other women in my life."

"Fu ... four?!" stammered Mike.

"Yes. There's my nurse, my receptionist, a doctor at a hospital I have privileges at and a neighbor whose husband had left her. They make up my harem, so to speak."


"Yes. All of the ladies live with me and my wife. Look, Mike. I'm going to do a couple of things to make it easier for us to discuss this," stated Alvin, as he waved his arm and Mike felt calmness come over him. "There. I just made it impossible for you not to trust me," he smiled.

Mike smiled back. "You're ... my doctor ... trust you..."

"I know, but now you'll believe my story too."

Mike thought. Yes, just moments ago, he thought his doctor was having a stroke causing him to weave what had seemed to be a ridiculous story, but now, for some reason, it had the ring of truth. Dr. Marcus had a sense of conviction and earnestness. He was also deeply touched that the doctor had considered him to be a friend. Mike did not have many of those these days. Most of his friends had deserted the sinking ship with his wife when they had divorced eight years ago. This was before the Parkinson's diagnosis, when his irritability, violent mood swings, and "shaking rage" had scared his ex-wife. In fairness to her, when she had heard about his condition, she had extended the olive branch, but Mike had never forgiven her for remarrying before learning the truth. "I believe," he stated.

"I know. Now let's make it easier to communicate," said the doctor, as he waved his other arm.

Mike felt energy burst through him. "What the hell?!" he exclaimed. "I'm not shaking! I can talk!"

"The fix is temporary ... just to reinforce your trust and help our ability to communicate."

"Now, what's this about aliens wanting to destroy the world?"

"Not the world, Mike. They want to destroy humanity. 'The Consortium of Worlds' has declared your race destructive to your world. Your people have a history of depleting a great deal of your planets resources, without really endeavoring to replace or repair what they consume or destroy. As I explained earlier, your race was seeded on your planet a number of millennia ago. You evolved from various stages to the Homo-sapiens you are today. Now, you've been judged and sentenced to eradication."

"Are we presumed to be a threat?"

"By some, who believe in the future you may be. Most don't, and by and large, just want to be done with you so they can eventually reseed your planet with a different race or species."

Mike shook his head.

"What?" asked Alvin.

"You keep saying 'you' referring to humans, but you look so much like us."

"I have altered my form to fit in, but I must confess that 'being human' has been the most rewarding experience of my existence."

"Then why wipe us out?"

"I don't want to. I'm on your side. Remember?"

"Can you stop them?"

"I'm trying to appeal their decision, but they've already sent a powerful race to execute their mandate and act as your executioner."

"Is there any hope?"

"There's always hope, my friend," he smiled sadly. "I'm hoping that the sentence will at least be commuted."


"From 'forced extinction' to 'vastly thinning of your herds'; either way, billions will die."

"'Thinning Herds?!' That makes us sound like animals."

"Most see you with the significance of microbes. Some at least see you as bugs. There are even a few who see you as pets."

"And you?"

"I ... see you for what you are: Beings. Flawed, like virtually all species; perhaps more than others, but with the potential for greatness. As I've said, I've seen it in you, my women, and others in my life."

Mike realized that he could not argue anything further on the grand scheme of things. He knew that the doctor was the best possible advocate for humanity. He just hoped the people of the world could be saved. He started thinking of himself.

"What about me?"

Alvin smiled. "I'm permitted to save six people from your world. Along with my 'wives', I'd be happy to make you my sixth, but hope that you might accept an alternative arrangement."

"Will it result in saving my life?"

"Yes. It will also make your life much more rewarding. As I can save only six people, you would be the sixth. However, as much as I like you, I've gotten far too attached to my mates, and they to me, to share one with you. You would be alone without a mate."

"My opinion of the fairer sex has gone way down recently..."



"We both know that isn't really true. I also firmly believe that you need and deserve female companionship."

A tear came to Mike's eye. Dr. Marcus was right. As Mike was no longer feeling the effects of his illness, at the moment, he might have even been able to have done something with a female. His thoughts became interrupted by his apparent benefactor.

"Look Mike, I could take you with us and cure your Parkinson's, but you would be a fifty-four year old man, with the likelihood that you'll never have any intimate female companionship for the rest of your life. The alternative is that you participate in an experiment that the Consortium is running."

"What sort of experiment?" asked Mike, more out of natural curiosity than his unnatural lack of suspicion.

"They would not only cure your Parkinson's, but also reduce your age to your early twenties and increase your fitness and strength to that of an exceptional Homosapien. There is a catch."


"You would be transported to a world that is a doppelganger of Earth about forty thousand years ago."

"There were no Homosapiens back then."

"I know. During the time you would exist there, there would be Neanderthals and Cro-Magnons. All indications are that you would be able to breed with both races."

Mike frowned. "How would I survive?"

"On your wits, skills, what the Consortium will provide you, and a few presents from me, of course," smiled Alvin.

"What can I have?"

"Any technology that is or can be made to look like something from the era you're entering. The exceptions would be any item that you could create yourself, like bows and arrows or small items of survival; like portable lighters and matches. They would also include items like wood stoves and cold storage units. Most of these items could be made to look like natural materials. The other exception would be materials that could be used to create a shelter and metal items, like utensils and tools. I would recommend that you request that they all be made of titanium, as it is fairly light and incredibly durable."

"Are there any other limitations?"

"Not counting my gifts, the Consortium will only give you three thousand-five hundred pounds of inert materials from your world. You would also be allowed a small 'animal allowance' for animals of the world you're going to."

"What about plant life?"

"You can request seeds and saplings for vegetables and fruits from your world. A good supply of rations will be provided for you, so you can subsist until you're ready to hunt."

"Can I have a guitar?"

Alvin smiled. "You see ... that is what separates your race from many others. You have an appreciation for the arts that exceeds many cultures. To answer your question, yes, you can. I'll even provide it for you as a gift. I'll also give you some other items that I think will enhance your life. These won't count toward the Consortium's weight limit."

Mike smiled and then suddenly frowned. "Will I lose contact with you?"

"Nope. As my designate for the experiment, I would be your overseer, as they would call it. I prefer to think of myself as your handler and friend. Don't worry. We'd talk daily."

Mike sighed. He figured he would go crazy with just primitive companionship. Knowing that Doctor Marcus would still be an important part of his life made Mike smile. The thought of being young and healthy again was also a dream come true. He was awoken from his thoughts by his friend.

"So, do I have to rescue you, or will you participate in the experiment?" asked Dr. Marcus.

"Count me in," smiled Mike.

Chapter 1 »