Ch. 1 - Xenophilia
I watched Silvir board the bus from the window and went back into my house. Or Siber's house, whatever. We had gotten so used to our weird bond and plane-traveling abilities that it didn't really phase us anymore. Inside, everything was as it should be, or at least as close to that as it could get. I wasn't rich or poor, but I was wealthier than the average American, so the décor was nice and generally clean. Silvir's older sister, Aura, and even older brother, Diam, were in college, so I was home alone. Teva was... well. Teva wasn't there.
My plans had, for the most part, failed. I had wanted to reform the world. Cure diseases. Mutate human beings. Make animals into sentient species. Do something to let human beings know that progress could be made elsewhere than weaponry and cheap entertainment. And yet, they didn't want that. They wanted fast cars and go-jets and nuclear warheads. And, they were afraid of all the ethical and religious implications of screwing with human DNA too severely. Something about playing God and Elphaba Thropp... I don't know. My mandate for them all was final:
Jerks.
So I basically did what I could, setting aside money in off-shore bank accounts for twenty years, trying to ignore the fact that I was feeding the government what they wanted in exchange for all the funds I skimmed off the top. Whatever. I'd get somewhere someday.
There are moments in life when one makes a break from the norm. You set aside what you've been doing for your entire life and say, "This day, this event, this moment, warrants a change." And you make that change.
I don't curse, much. I try to restrain myself so that in the big moments, I can let people know that I mean business. Yeah, a four-letter bit of French gets out now and then, but even in those high-stress situations, I try to stay calm and not let my verbage get the better of me.
But let's face it, people, when a projectile punctures your roof, two floors, and your basement, a little dispensation is awarded.
"Holy fuck-damn. And some Jesus shit."
And then I berated myself for breaking the third commandment, but whatever. Either God would get over it or He wouldn't, and while I descended the basement stairs, I did feel the requisite pang of guilt, but it wasn't exactly my choice as to what He decided to do about it.
(By the way, I'm Siber. Don't know if you knew that or not, but I am. I am a dark blue anthro wolf with a tinge of green in my wings and chest, and maybe a crimson mark or two here or there. I'd say five-ten, give or take an inch. Athletic, but by no means bulging with muscles. And dark brown eyes. Oh, and I'm, I dunno, forty-five? Fifty? I don't keep very good track. There ya go.)
Anyway, I got down into my basement (which had just been finished, mind you) and found a gray, gelatinous substance extricating itself from my white carpet. And yes, you read correctly. It was a splotch of colorless, slightly shimmering material very clearly pulling itself out of the fibrous nature of my amazing carpet I had just recently installed and which now sported a blackened hole from the force of the impact. Dusty debris was still showering down from above. Getting this fixed was going to straight up suck.
Before I could react, the thing was free and had spread itself into the shape of four letters: H-E-L-P. So it knows English and it's sentient, and something is chasing it. Which means... something else is coming through my roof! Damn!
I scooped up the thing in my arms, always willing to defend any random alien who happened to land in my home and request assistence (apparently) and sprinted up my stairs and out the door into my spacious back yard, scanning the skies for an onslaught. A mass of crimson-colored blobs was raining out of the clear sky. Something told me that very conveniently, nothing else was in position to see them. Like a some sort of author's license in a story. Those authors can be control freaks, they can.
"Do these things have any weaknesses?" I asked aloud. Apparently, it heard me, because it swarmed up in front of my face while keeping a pseudopod on my outstretched hand to form a lightning bolt insignia. "Very well."
With that, I summoned my well of energy into existence. It had never been strong since Teva left because it always reminded me of her and that distracted me, but when I buzzed my wings and sent forth lightning, it struck like a thunderstorm and fried the lot of them to send a fine ash showering down on my yard. The dust blew away in the wind, and I raised my eyebrows, surprised at how effective the attack had been. The thing in my hands oozed around one hand-paw and condensed, so it felt like the hand was being shaken by another human.
"How long have you been watching our race?" I asked, my face taking an interested look. The blob didn't respond, except to form the most rudimentary anthropomorph in the palm of my hand--a featureless head, tentacle arms, and the gastropod-like foot. I assumed it didn't know how to communicate that answer to me.
"Can you fix my house?" That got a definite nod, so I hoped that it wasn't European and headed back into the house, waiting until I was sitting on a sofa in my den before asking more questions. "It" hopped onto a small, square table nearby and looked at me.
For a while, I just stared at it, contemplating the biological improbability of its existence. It appeared to be a single cell, from the way it moved, but I didn't see any organelles or organs in its translucent body. Clearly, it ate by phagocytosis or some other engulfing method, but I wasn't getting any hints at the moment.
Finally, I decided to just ask it. "Do you have a name?"
It nodded.
"Is there any way I could pronounce it?"
Head shake.
"Is there some alternative I can call you by? Because you're clearly sentient, so I can't just call you 'Thing.' Although it might be fitting."
Without warning, it stretched, impossibly, over to a bookshelf and retrieved Moby Dick. Before it even got the thing all the way to me, I said, "No, I will not call you Ishmael."
It replaced the volume, but wiggled in such away that it seemed to be laughing.
"What if I call you Ges? It's my old organic chemistry professor's name, and given that you seem to defy all laws of that kind of thing, I think it fits."
The alien thought for a moment, then nodded.
"All right, Ges. I don't imagine asking about why you're hear would get me anywhere because I assume you use a communication method that significantly differs from mine, so this is going to be almost exclusively one-way."
Got another nod and a sort of sardonic ripple. If you can't imagine what that looks like, don't stress yourself. I couldn't either until I saw it.
"Are you hungry?"
It thought again, then shook its head.
"All right, then. I'm planning on having lunch in a few hours, so when that happens, I'll just pull out a bunch of stuff and let you decide."
Ges seemed to approve of the plan and hopped onto my shoulder when I stood. I had taken a day off from work because today was boring lab stuff and I had a lot of sick days stored up, so my morning was spent writing and playing music. I was no officianado, but nor was I an idiot. I could play some decent tunes on the piano and was in the process of orchestrating my dream piece- "Concerto in You Suck Major." It was an entire concerto (duh) centered around a clarinetist with a piano and choral accompaniment. The chorus sang (in lovely chords) about how much the clarinetist sucked at playing, even though the part was actually ridiculously difficult, given the squeaks and out-of-key/out-of-tune moments I had thrown in. I was basically a musical sadist. But it brought in an extra thousand here and there, so I figured people must like what I do. I still had yet to conduct a piece, but that was because of work. Twenty years, and no opportunities had presented themselves. Jerks.
Ges watched amiably as I plunked along our grand piano and jumped off at one point to depress some of the keys at random. Hearing dischord, it removed itself, and I swear I saw a chemical reddening of its "cheeks." But it could have been the light.
Lunch time came and things got interesting. Ges wouldn't eat a thing I set out for it. Peanut butter, bread, eggs, turkey, water, milk, soda, pastries, left-over spaghetti, a pencil, gasoline... nothing. So I shrugged and went on my way, put it all back in the fridge/cabinet/stationery drawer/garage and sat down in front of my computer again, in my comfy, leather, reclining chair. Mmm, it was lovely.
It was a hot day out, and the computer was in my bedroom, and the windows were closed, and Silvir wasn't due back for another four hours, so I stripped down to my briefs, considered what I was doing when I saw Ges watching, frozen, from atop my monitor, and asked it, "Will it bother you if I take these off?"
It shook its head slowly, as if not really sure, but I felt like feeling a draft from the air conditioning, so off came the little piece of black fabric separating me from indecency. Ges flowed down to the arm of the computer chair to watch me work in some music program or another. Probably Ending or CarPortBand. It doesn't matter.
An hour and a half passed with virtually no interruption save a phone call from some telemarketer and another to let me know that the bacteria in plate CBA10-ß were indeed producing steel from a medium of iron-oxide and carbon. I told them they would, sheesh. Just apply the right plasmids and... forget it. I don't feel like explaining it, because it's boring right now.
What's important is that after that hour and a half, I began to feel aroused. I didn't inspect myself because I was concentrating so hard, but in the back of my mind, I was like, boner imminent. A few moments later, I realized that I had been feeling a gentle, almost unnoticable stroking motion against my fuzzy testicles for the past five minutes and had subconsciously attributed it to the air conditioning. Immediately afterwards, I noticed that Ges was not where I had last seen it.
Sitting in... or maybe "enveloping" is the right word. Enveloping my lap was Ges, very calmly massaging, by now, the entire contents of my now-throbbing package. Now, I was not originally largely endowed, but some things... happened, in my life, that made some not-unwelcome changes. My member was almost entirely humanoid, save for the knot forming at the joining of the shaft with the sheath, the latter of which was really embarassingly short, only just barely protruding from my crotch. The shaft itself was a decent seven inches, and each testicle was roughly the size of a grade-A egg. Nothing ridiculous, but something to be proud of.
Abruptly, Ges somehow noticed I was staring and slid over to my thigh in his normal form almost sheepishly. Having experienced all the weird things I had, though, my mind made a pretty impressive leap. Keeping my voice steady, I asked, "Is this how you eat?"
Very slowly, it nodded.
"Do you do anything, when you eat, but pinocytotically consume the semen?"
Shake.
"If you're going to stay here, you have to swear to me you won't be as forward with my son as you're being with me."
This time, it nodded quickly and made a slight motion back to my groin, but I interceded with a hand.
I stared hard into where it's eyes should have been. "I'm serious. If I even get suspicious, I will do the same to you that I did to your buddies." Then my voice lightened. "I mean, as soon as he gets used to you, he's fair game, but until then, I have to be able to trust you."
I got another nod and relented, eyeing it warily as it embraced my softening cock once more and joined with itself, then spread down to my balls again and started massaging them.
Whatever it was, it knew what it was doing. I had rarely felt more expertly aroused than by the viscuous feel of this thing constricting and rubbing around all of my private parts. It swirled and rotated, pushing and pulling at all the right places as I closed my eyes, lifted my head, and let out a gasp of excitement. My pulse and heartbeat increased and my breathing quickened as I allowed myself to be dragged into a soft haze of sexual pleasure. Up and down, squeezing and kneading, it worked me like a lover would, letting me taste ecstasy. I felt it open up my slit after a while, then begin to pour itself into me, stretching my balls tight and giving a most excellent internal massage, getting me from without and within simultaenously. My pleasure was indescribable. Unless you count that as descriptive.
Finally, I could take no more. I squoze it with my hand out of my balls and felt propelled by the resulting ejaculatory sensation into a soaring orgasm, pumping my strangely vast supply of seed into its silvery body. As it formed back into itself and collected the thick juices, milking me for all I was worth and apparently laughing at my climactic spasms, a white sphere formed at the core of its body, almost like an egg, except that it wasn't eliptical. Even though it couldn't have been more than digestive juices, maybe some sweat, and a tablespoon or two of semen, it seemed to glow with a very pure, white light. I had a feeling it wasn't hungry anymore.
I grinned and leaned back, closing my eyes in a pleasant afterglow while Ges swarmed up my chest and rubbed at my cheek. I touched it with a few fingers in a light caress, and decided that it could be worth it to keep this thing around. No ill effects so far.
So it gets yiffier later, but that's just a little introduction to the focal point for this branch of stories. If there are any inconsistencies... blame society. Or me. Whatever. Hope you enjoyed it!