The Mating

Annabel stood in the ‘boudoir’, as the alien had apparently christened it, having been – yeah – ‘beamed up’. It seemed a cross between one of those basic but clean Travelodge bedrooms and something that could almost pass for a nice female bedroom with one pair of walls being pink and the others light blue. Something very much resembling a bed extended from the back wall, jutting out into the middle of the room, but it was basically just a raised platform with a thick built-in top layer of soft black velvety material. Annabel had been told by the alleged counsellor and the geneticist woman to stand in front of it and face the open doorway and await his arrival. Then they scurried off, promising to be ‘nearby’, but looking tense as hell.

It was rather warm and steamy in here, but that wasn’t the only reason she felt queasy. The phrase ‘raped and impregnated’ was springing to mind – by a something – yet also a colossol sense of duty swam around inside her. So, this was the potion taking effect? Yet all she increasingly felt was a clawing anticipation for what was going to come through that door. There were footsteps, normal and rythmnic; then a pause, with a hiss of breathing. Through the door-frame came...

Man-sized, completely man-sized or even taller, and green ... all green, or various mottled shades thereof, with a slimy sheen to the skin. Rangy and powerful legs – or was that hind legs? – with somewhat thinner front ones, the fact of it standing upright albeit with a slight crook to the shoulders making for the ambiguity. Overwhelmingly the face of a frog – toad? – with wide-set bulgy eyes, sickening yellow with oval pupils, regarding her with obvious intelligence. That wasn’t what did it for Annabel, though.

“Greetinks, Ann-ah-belle.” The voice was almost Arabic in accent, working carefully around each syllable and consonant, and a red tongue with forked end licked its mouth. “I am Emm-ee-serree.”

She took in a sharp breath and dissolved into a tremble, and her bladder did what she didn’t intend. Then she screamed and broke into a run which was kind of backwards, but she felt her head spin and consciousness drain from her before she knew where she was trying to go. Before she passed out, though, she thought she heard a patter of footsteps and some female human voice saying ‘not a high enough bloody dosage!

We start again, mused Emissary. He congratulated himself for the fantastic and cute sense of ceremony he had achieved here. Before him stood human Annabel, short enough that her head did not equal his chin but definitely not too small for the deed. That school uniform of hers certainly lent her an air of importance – black-blue-gold chequered skirt with dark blue leg-stockings, bright blue blazer with a shield-emblem on it, light blue shirt minus a tie seemed like a nice touch too – whilst it also gave a sense of ‘decoration’ to her. Pink-pale in the face she was now, but standing calmly and coherently enough.

Annabel meanwhile regarded the alien dignitary before her knowing ‘what’ he was but looking on him, and what they were to do together, much as she would an average-looking human man in his mid-thirties. Her stomach churned, but she knew she had to do this and that was that. She found herself hoping he would provide complete leadership and instruction in it, though – indeed he probably had to – otherwise she would just stand there frozen and stupid forever. This second time of asking, she had replied to him with her full name and, whether it mattered, the full name of her school.

“Yes-s, very nice. Ann-ah-belle, now you will undress-s yourself for me, pleze.”

“Yes, Mister ... um, sir.”

That she wasn’t sure how to address him was forgivable and mattered not, for now. She was already undoing her blazer buttons as she spoke. He’d provided a plush stool nearby like the one she used at home, and she placed the blazer over it. She was then about to undo her shirt, but with trembly hands opted instead to do the skirt. This she did, with dignity but turning her head upward and away. There were buttons at the front and a zip on the side; how quaint, he mused. Also, how interesting that one gets so excited by this particular garment’s impending removal, now that he was seeing her as lusty human male would.

Annabel reckoned the Emissary’s eyes sort of bulged or expanded as she dropped her skirt and stepped out of it, straight-backed, but it might have been her imagination. When she bent, picked it up and walked over to the stool with it and back, his head slowly turned with her. Somehow she felt it was expected of her to return to stance, as it were, to face him before each stage. Should it be shirt or leggings next? One could ask, but she got the feeling he just wanted to see due process or something. This time shirt, she told herself, bravely.

Emissary watched her do her shirt in the same manner she had her blazer, except more nervously perhaps. It was as if she understood how his appetite – quite literally – was piqued by revelation of her torso flesh. (One retained one’s own species’ taste for mammalian flesh in tandem with the humanized arousal for her). The bra-thing was exquisite, but more so when it was removed. Those leggings were curious, like a layer of skin but not, and she peeled them off from the top and awkwardly got out of them one foot at a time. Slender leg-flesh now and nothing but those flimsy white ‘knickers’ covering her sex region.

His green penis – yep, she’d noticed – had extended from its at-rest stub into the full erection of 8 inches and he wanted to eat alive the form before him, either during, before or after, but would refrain, indeed had to. He practically pounced on her, and guided her swifty down onto the bed with her legs dangling off the front of it. His paws planting her shoulders in place, he set about sucking and licking each breast. Biting off a chunk was a thought, but he made do with enjoying the saltiness and sucking the entire mound into a mouth that tautened into a broad circle for just such purpose.

He found he very much wanted to kiss her mouth. He slithered up her, removing one paw to wrap it firmly over her head. His powerful thighs had opened hers, but he had no intention of penetration just yet, allowing his penis to brush on that quaint knicker-cotton and press over her lower abdomen. He sealed his mouth onto hers, but also felt he wanted to dab slithery kisses over her cheeks, so he mixed up the two for a bit. Then he focused fully on the oriface, exploring with his tongue which was tougher but lubricated, and longer than a human’s. She gagged breifly, but then didn’t and couldn’t, as he pushed it down her throat.

He dragged the knickers off himself with relish, pinning her knees wide open with his sticky and strong paws. Firstly, kisses on the inner thighs and resisting the desire to feast on them. Then, exploring and tweaking her labia with his dexterous fork, he coiled his whole tongue tight and pushed up her passage with it. Once fully in, he opened it out again, thus stretching her apart until the point he felt she was squeaking in pain. He pistoned with his tongue for a bit, enjoying her cute moans and that she seemed to be trying to close her legs. Not pissing herself now, though, just delicately musty and salty.

He flipped her over like a toy, to have a go with her bottom; how human males evidently loved this part of them, he concluded, buttock-flesh being maybe equivalent to the best part of a chicken in human outlook. He all but bit with the machinations of his muscly mouth, but kept his fangs retracted. He also licked through her crack, and felt the need to enter this hole too with the same strategy as before. He called time on this tongue-fuck when the fecal tang became too much; pretty much as bad in any species, he mused. Fortunately, his tongue and lips had quick self-cleansing properties. Well, it was time for a satiation now...

To Annabel, events were half dream half real. She could very much ‘see’ his penis including that it was much like a particularly big green banana that did not have so much curve and looked slippy, yet she concieved of what was happening as the sexual attentions of some horny mature man. Moreover, she had this great duty to the human race. He had now drawn her up into a kneeling position on the floor, and with his hands around her head, she found she was kind of stuck to him and couldn’t get off even if she tried. It came as a total surprise what he intended.

The end-suckers of Emissary’s fingers had the skill to prompt her jaws open by pressing at the appropriate spots. Then he simply pushed his organ into her, and the chemical properties of his penis-sheath drew her lips around it and even prompted her to suck-action. Now, he had an ‘inner-penis’, unlike humans, which was more than just a foreskin arrangement. It could extend out independently, whilst the sheath retracted somewhat, leaving a maximum total length of ten inches, the end six of which were the inner. The inner was narrower, had ability of flexion and was reddish in hue and softer; it would not damage her oesophagus or stomach walls.