Deep in the bowels of Site X-32-Beta, past two security doors that were monitored and guarded heavily day-cycle and night-cycle, in a small room that had been converted into both lab and living quarters, Sam Finney stared intently at a vial full of thick, sticky, pitch-black liquid while polishing off his third cup of coffee. After his ‘success’ with the xenomorph specimen in the holding cell just down the hall, he had been congratulated by his superiors and offered a change in location so that he could more easily continue his research. And he jumped at the chance, even if he knew the relocation just happened to make it easier for him, his specimen, and his research to disappear at the first hint of inconvenience for the Weyland-Yutani Corp stockholders. Of course, Sam didn’t care about such things; he was a scientist, and all that mattered were the results he was producing.

Although, he also knew that rumors about his research had started spreading through the site, regardless of Weyland-Yutani’s ‘loose lips get silenced’ policy. The specimen, the creature dubbed the xenomorph, was pregnant despite the apparent presence of male sexual features. Head Researcher Finney had logged ‘classified experimentation’ the night-cycle before the discovery, and had been seen both then and the morning after smeared with—and stinking of—suspicious fluids. He could see the questions in the eyes of the guards and his fellow scientists whenever he emerged from his new quarters to seek out sustenance in the site cafeteria, but he didn’t care. Something something they called him mad something show them all.

Anyway.

The liquid that had captivated the researcher’s attention—even beyond the liquid ambrosia he depended on for his survival and sanity—was the xenomorph’s seminal fluids. Thick and just as pitch-black as its chitinous body, with an oily sheen when the light hit it just right. Beyond its physical appearance, the researcher had discovered that the alien seed had a multitude of curious properties. When allowed to dry on a nonliving surface, it became a strong, inflexible solid that reminded Sam of the reports about the material making up the xenomorphs’ hive. However, when it was placed on flesh, or mucuous membranes, or mixed with seminal fluid provided by Sam himself, the xenomorph’s semen remained in a seemingly-perpetual liquid state. Moreover, observation under a microscope produced another fascinating discovery; when combined with Sam’s own semen, the curiously-scarce sperm swimming within the thick, potent, strong-smelling fluid seemed to be drawn to his human sperm, coiling around it and eventually merging with it. These new, hybrid sperm seemed almost frenzied in their movements, swimming about in an apparently-frantic search for something to fertilize. Sam hypothesized that this was just one method that allowed the xenomorph species to hybridize with others so quickly, efficiently, and thoroughly. Perhaps this was the key to producing more docile, intelligent—at least, enough to be of use to Weyland-Yutani—specimens for mass-production and sale.

The only way to test his hypothesis, however, was to experiment upon himself. Perhaps hybridizing with the xenomorph would make its attitude more agreeable towards him—enough that they could mate without the creature having to be bound. Or, perhaps it would turn him into some kind of abomination that Weyland-Yutani would sweep under the rug and forget about. Either way, Sam wouldn’t know until he tried.

How to introduce the xenomorph seed into his system to begin the process, though? Sam had thought of a few methods during his long, coffee-fueled binges, but the simplest way to begin that he could think of was through ingestion. Mix a little of the xenomorph’s semen with his own—a little, so as not to produce effects that he couldn’t handle at this stage—and see what happened once it was introduced to his system. The thought was mad, insane, but sent a thrill of more than scientific excitement down Sam’s spine, through his stomach, and into his crotch.

A short while later, Sam was prepared. He had another vial of the mixture—dull grey and mostly his own cum with just a few drops of xenomorph semen—and was ready to begin the experimentation. He hesitated for only a moment before tipping the vial back and gulping down the thick fluid as it dropped into his mouth. The scent was sweet and oddly rubbery, a faint echo of the pheromones the specimen had started producing in large quantities whenever Sam entered the holding cell, but the taste was spicy and tart with a dull, earthy aftertaste. It tingled on his tongue and down his throat as the seminal mixture settled into his stomach.

He set the vial aside, sat at his desk once more, and waited. His cheeks were flushed, but that may have just been from the perversion of the act. The tightness of his pants and the dull throbbing in his crotch may have been similarly so. His stomach felt fine. So far, there didn’t seem to be any adverse side effects; or any effect at all, for that matter. Though there would only be one real way to test his hypothesis.

He made his way over to the observation room next door, gazing at the xenomorph in the holding cell through the thick plane of plexiglass. Still muzzled and bound in place, its exotic form on display for anyone to see. Shiny and black, limber and monstrous. Sam had gotten well-acquainted with the creature’s alien form—he’d had to in order to get all the seminal samples he’d been testing, as well as to monitor the creature’s pregnancy—and even now seeing it sent a thrill through him. Much stronger than it had been before, now that he thought of it. He looked the creature over again, from its crested head to its long, blade-tipped tail, and felt a strange twinge in his gut as his crotch throbbed once more. Beautiful. The creature was beautiful.

The researcher held onto that strange thought as he made his standard log—classified research, yada yada—and then disabled the cameras in the observation room and holding pen. He then set the recording to save itself directly onto his drive; he had many similar recordings of his ‘sessions’ with the xenomorph, and had spent many long, sweaty night-cycles watching and rewatching them as he masturbated. he couldn’t deny that his interest in the xenomorph has grown beyond the professional as he continued studying it, and Sam relished taking his personal time to relive every moment of touching and stroking the creature’s member—its cock. Reliving every deep lungful of its pheromones as he touched and teased and probed the creature’s opening—its anus, or vaginal entrance, or maybe something in between. Reliving the sight of the monstrous creature, who could rip him apart in seconds were it freed from its bondage, hissing and moaning and whimpering needfully under the human’s ministrations.

Sam’s eyes clenched shut as he took a deep, hissing breath between his teeth and grabbed at the pulsing bulge in his pants. He was getting more aroused than he’d ever been before while thinking about the creature, the xenomorph. It may or may not have been an effect of the seminal mixture, but his pulse was racing and sending twinges of lust through his crotch. He needed to be in there, in the holding cell, breeding the xenomorph. He undressed himself, setting his lab coat aside and then folding his shirt, pants, and underwear on top of it, and then strode through the security door into the cell naked as the day he was born.

The xenomorph hissed, low and quiet—and to Sam’s ears, sultry—while turning its head toward him as much as the creature could manage in its bound state. Sam knew that, even if it didn’t have any visible eyes, it could see him. Sense him. Knew that he was there, naked and hard and ready to breed. Another low rumble—a purr—was accompanied by a tremble down the creature’s spine and through its thighs as the scent of its pheromones began to fill the air. Rubbery fruit, but now with an acrid, sharp tinge to it.

Fertility. Fertility and gravidity.

Sam didn’t know where the thought came from, or even how accurate it was, but for some reason that was what flitted through his mind as he approached the bound xenomorph. The human first made his way to the alien’s muzzled ‘face’, and guided the creature to his crotch as he caressed its glassy crest. Humped its ‘face’ and let it breathe in the human’s own rich scent. Rubbed his pulsing, throbbing cock on its crest and the ridge underneath, and smeared his already-flowing precum wherever he could. “That’s right,” the researcher found himself murmuring. “Ready to breed you again and again.” He moaned out the words, low and needy and horny.

And as it ‘gazed’ up at him past the looming, bobbing, thrusting shaft of his cock, the xenomorph answered.

It wasn’t words that Sam could hear, or any sounds but the usual hissing and rumbling and whining from the creature; however, as his mind twinged, the noises the specimen was making seemed to make some sort of sense. He could get an impression from the trilling and chittering, the tone of the xenomorph’s hissing, of what the creature was ‘saying’. Maybe ‘thinking’ would be more accurate, the impressions flashing in his mind as images. Flashes of meaning. The xenomorph wanted it. Wanted to be bred. Wanted to lift its tail and feel Sam’s member working deep into its passage until the rush of Sam’s hot, human seed filled it. Wanted to feel Sam’s attention on its crotch as it laid its eggs—their eggs.

Sam moaned as the ‘thoughts’ made his cock throb and pulse and dribble slick precum onto the specimen’s ‘face’. He looked downward, past the xenomorph’s distended gut—distended with their offspring—to the thick member throbbing between the creature’s legs. “Yeah, you need it too, don’t you?”

The xenomorph let out an impatient, needy hiss that Sam could almost mistake for a clear ‘yes’; the meaning was the same, anyway.

The human couldn’t stop a soft huff of laughter rocking through him. He could actually communicate with the specimen, at least in a rudimentary fashion. He wasn’t sure if he’d finally cracked, or if it truly was an effect of the seminal mixture, but the researcher didn’t care either way; and neither did his cock. His hands moved to caress the creature, over its crest and down its neck to its shoulders. Rubbing the top of its spine and around to its heaving chest. As he did, he let all his fantasies about the xenomorph run wild through his twinging mind; felt them touch that ‘connections’ between them, and somehow knew that the xenomorph was ‘seeing’ them, too. Fantasies of stroking—kissing and licking—his way down the creature’s body to bury his face in its crotch. Lifting its tail to breathe in its pheromones, and then burying his tongue and fingers into its musky opening so he could hear it shriek and whine in pleasure. Exploring the creature’s exotic cock with his lips, suckling on the head and bobbing down the shaft and drinking the xenomorph’s strange black semen straight from the tap.

And more fantasies and strange thoughts flitted through his mind, which he somehow knew were coming from the creature. The two of them curled together, the creature’s hind-end and tail lifted as the human massaged its crotch plates. The human’s deft, soft fingers probing into it as the creature bore down. The feeling of large, hard, round eggs passing out of its opening and into the human’s—its mate’s grip. Their eggs. Their children. And then the human rutting its fertile opening again to produce more eggs—more offspring to expand their colony.

His hand moved down the creature’s strong, compactly-muscled arm to its wrist, and rubbed over one of the cuffs binding it in its suspended position. His mind twinged again, and he looked down to the xenomorph. “You want me to let you go, don’t you?” Again, the specimen hissed in affirmation.

It was crazy. Insane. The thing was a killer, and would rampage through the complex the moment it was freed. But what if it didn’t? What if Sam’s ‘connection’ to the specimen allowed him to get close to it without the benefit of it being bound and gagged and helpless? What if he could see the creature on its knees, hunched over and tail lifted and presenting itself of its own free will?

Sam glanced to the security door and pane of everything-proof plexiglass as the ‘what if’s waged a war against his caution and doubts. There was an alarm that would go off and alert everyone in every security station on the site if the creature somehow got out of its bindings, but that could easily be disabled. There was another alarm that couldn’t be disabled for if anything but an id-registered site employee exited the holding cell. And the cell walls were specifically designed so that nothing—not the xenomorph’s claws or acid or anything else—could break through them and allow the creature to escape that way. He could seal himself into the holding cell with the creature, and whatever happened would happen. Of course, his survival instincts protested at the thought of dying to the creature’s claws or teeth—it would be a horrible way to go, he had no doubts about that—but in the end his scientific curiosity won out.

The creature whined as he stepped away from it to go back into the observation room for a brief moment. A few commands on the console and entering his id number allowed him to turn off the alarm, and then his hands froze just as he was about to release the creature. He gazed at it through the observation window, suspended and helpless, struggling and hissing softly to itself as its cock throbbed and slick, translucent-gray lubricating fluid dribbled down its thighs. Finally, with a deep breath to steady himself, he entered the command to release the specimen’s bindings and quickly rushed back through the security door, letting it slide shut to seal him in with the creature.

He watched as metal cuffs and clamps released and steel cables wound up, slowly freeing the creature from its bondage. The xenomorph finally dropped to the cell floor with a grunting hiss; the many cycles suspended in its bindings had apparently left it weakened and unprepared to support itself. It finally looked over to the human as Sam started to approach, slowly and carefully while their ‘gazes’ met. It hissed and rumbled towards the human, and Sam could feel the twinges of confusion from the creature give way to relaxation. It moved onto all fours, slowly crawling towards the human. Pressing its crest up into his extended palm. Letting Sam pet it as it purred.

Then it surged forward, pushing Sam down onto his back, and crawled on top of the human.

It froze, hissing—in surprise?—at Sam’s strangled cry. The human’s heart and breath were racing as he stared up at the creature, wide-eyed and panicking. However, Sam didn’t feel its claws ripping at him, or its jaws—still muzzled, thank God—tearing into him. Instead, the creature pressed its ‘face’ into the researcher’s chest while its clawed hands rubbed his shoulders and down his arms, mimicking the way he had explored its bony body. Sam could feel the firm rise of its distended, pregnant stomach pressing against his belly, and the thick, slick shaft of its erection grinding against his hip. Through the twinge of their ‘connection’, Sam could feel peaceful, soothing waves caress his mind. The creature was completely non-aggressive; why would it do anything to hurt its mate?

Sam took another deep, steadying breath, and relaxed under the creature. His hands moved up to stroke its side and along its back, and the xenomorph purred once more. “Mate…?” If it had pair-bonded with him, then he would be able to more easily study it—breed with it—but that begged the question; was its behavior that malleable? Did the creature’s adaptability extend even to its social and mating habits? If that was the case, then perhaps his task—that’s right, he was doing this for a reason, wasn’t he?—would be a lot simpler than he had anticipated.

The creature looked to him, cocking its head. Perhaps some of Sam’s musings had leaked through his ‘connection’ with the xenomorph. “Never mind.” Sam shook his thoughts away, and resumed his caressing and petting and exploring. He could worry about the scientific implications of what he and the creature were doing together for later. For now, his hands moved down to grasp and squeeze the xenomorph’s hips, and the creature bucked and hissed on top of him. “Someone’s a horny guy, hm…?” He chuckled as he felt the creature’s tail lift, and he pushed his fingers underneath it to finally touch and rub and probe the wet opening beneath.

The creature threw its head back and moaned as Sam’s fingers sank into its passage, rubbing and stroking the inner walls. Its cock pulsed and throbbed and dribbled another spurt of lubricating fluid—precum—into the small puddle that had already formed on Sam’s hip. It hissed and rumbled as the human slowly repositioned the xenomorph of top of himself, moving its legs to straddle him and shifting its crotch upward a little bit. Then it froze, cocking its head in confusion when Sam grasped his cock and rubbed the tip against the hot, slick lips of its entrance.

“Mmmf… it’s alright.” Sam looked up at the xenomorph, caressing its flank, and pushed an image of the creature riding him—bouncing up and down on his cock—into the twinge of their ‘connection’. Again, the xenomorph hissed and whined quietly, unsure, but seemed to get the point when the human pushed its hips down and let the head of his cock pop into its hole. The creature allowed the human to guide it down onto his cock, squirming as it felt the human’s smooth shaft grind against its clenching inner walls. “That’s right… that’s a good boy…” The murmurs and mental twinges of approval seemed to reassure the xenomorph—along with Sam’s hand wrapping around its own erection to pump and squeeze the throbbing shaft—and it began to rumble with pleasure while pressing its crotch down against Sam’s.

Sam let out a hiss of his own as his balls met the chitinous plates of the xenomorph’s crotch, and the creature’s tight inner walls embraced his cock in their vice grip. He ground up against the xenomorph, feeling every pulse and twitch of the passage around him. The creature seemed to get the message and, putting its hand on the human’s chest for support, lifted its hips up to slide upwards on the human’s shaft. Both human and creature let out low sounds of pleasure at the friction this new position sparked between them both, and Sam rewarded the specimen with another few strokes of its own cock.

“Just like that.” Sam pushed more of his thoughts into their ‘connection’. The xenomorph bouncing up and down, blowing its load onto his face and chest. The xenomorph on its back, legs splayed and lifted as the human rutted it. The human suckling and bobbing on the xenomorph’s cock, and even letting the alien member into his own back entrance. “Be a good boy and I’ll breed with you all you want.” A good boy; it seemed confused by the words, but Sam could feel a rush of assent from the creature. It would do anything the human wanted in order to earn Sam’s cock.

And it seemed eager to prove it, with the way the xenomorph began riding him. Sliding up and down and squeezing its inner walls around the human’s cock. Milking the thick shaft. Wanting Sam’s virile load in its guts. Every touch of Sam’s hands on the specimen’s erection, or its hips, or its own heaving chest, was met with a hissing purr. It began to mimic Sam’s petting and cresses once more, tracing its claws over the human’s shoulders and chest. Slow. Intimate. Gentle. Earning another buck of the human’s hips up against its crotch. Another hard, slamming thrust from its mate.

Sam groaned in bliss, laying back and pumping up into the specimen. Working over its cock. Trying to get it to cum. With the ‘connection’ between them, it was easier to do; easier to tell where to touch, to squeeze, to push his fingers to make the creature squirm in pleasure. Easier to please his mate. The human panted, sighed, and cried out with every movement of the creature on top of him, and began to squeeze and pump the alien erection before him almost desperately. Grinding his fingertips on the ridges of the shaft and around the tapered tip as the slick, pulsing flesh squirmed in his grip. Sliding his palm down the underside, and digging his fingertips into the tender flesh of the slit from which it emerged. Rubbing at the plates of the xenomorph’s crotch, smearing his hand with its slick, musky lubricating fluids, and releasing more of those sweet, pungent pheromones into the air to fill his lungs. They were both close, Sam could feel it; in their ‘connection’, and in every twitch of the creature’s body atop his.

It came suddenly and without warning. The pleasure spiked, echoing through the twinge of his mind in a positive feedback loop that only grew more intense as the xenomorph’s mingled with his. Sam’s eyes clenched shut, his toes curled, and he grasped the creature’s flanks to slam its crotch down onto his as he screamed out his orgasm. And the creature roared through its muzzle, writhing as the twitching and throbbing of Sam’s erupting cock pushed it over the edge as well; thick spurts of strong-smelling black semen shot out of its member to splatter over Sam’s stomach and smear over the specimen’s own distended abdomen.

The two panted. Hissed. Moaned. Collapsed onto the cell floor together. The creature lay on top of the human, purring as Sam’s arms wrapped around it in a tight, post-orgasmic embrace.

Then the crackling of the speakers high up on the cell walls cut through their afterglow, and a tentative voice called out, “Dr. Finney…?” The xenomorph hissed and jerked and looked around for the source of the noise that dared to interrupt it and its mate, while Sam froze and slowly turned to glance towards the observation window.

He met the wide, staring eyes of a few of his underlings, gazing at him through the plexiglass.

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Pub: 30 Dec 2020 13:27 UTC
Views: 358