Straight from Outer Space

Haz 9, 2024 // By:admin // No Comment

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Earthling officer finds male power in alien form

As if we were floating in outer space with a background of the stars, with Saturn and its mind-blowing rings at upper left, T’krang slid into my ass with his huge, satanic-black cock. With the Gravity off, we floated mid-air in the ship’s bunkroom as he jerked me in all directions with his lunges. Separated from the universe only by the power of the force field, it was literally sex in Infinity.

God, I was turned on–mind (and balls) at 20,000 rpm and my asshole stretched impossibly around his fiery cock. T’krang had taken me, broken me, and in all my experience in the Galaxy Defense Force, I had never been so checkmated, so completely conquered. How did I end up in that position?

I could not deny the truth: he got me; I gave in, spread my legs for him, and the Stugartian sergeant fucked me into a new life, astounding me with his animal, masculine power, and I literally dangled at the end of his huge cock in the blackness of space.

Never thought it would happen to me. Not with a male. And God, he’s not even from Earth!


Without doubt the greatest event of 2047 was the discovery of life on Jupiter. They appeared first in radio messages suddenly received in communication centers, then they “appeared” in capitals around the world, turning out to be life forms as different from humanity (and other carbon-based life) as helium is from a rock.

Jovians were almost incomprehensible to humans–they had no bodies. Their “existence” was a mental force, almost nothing more.

Giant Jupiter, their home, possibly the most hostile environment in the Solar System, had an atmospheric pressure of 15 million pounds per square inch. A “gas” planet, Jupiter consisted of 90% hydrogen and 10% helium (no oxygen), meaning no Earthly life forms could live there, even without considering Jupiter’s weather.

Jupiter had the Solar System’s most violent storms, terrible winds of more than 400 mph blowing in opposite directions in the adjacent bands of its atmosphere. Add to that Jupiter’s famous “Red Spot,” a titanic super-hurricane twice the size of planet Earth, and nothing solid could exist, not even if it lived to reach the violent surface of Jupiter hundreds of miles below the atmosphere. There temperatures reached over 35,000 degrees Fahrenheit.

But life on Jupiter had developed and in an unimaginable way. The Jovians’ bodies were what they referred to as moaan, or “thought-matter,” a concept near incomprehensible. They were also as invisible as thought, “appearing” in their visit to Earth by conforming their bodies into humanoid shapes.


Sixty years after the first appearance of the Jovians on Earth and thanks to their mentoring, by 2107 terrestrial science had leaped ahead by centuries, and as Jupiter shared its knowledge of faster-than-light travel, Earthlings visited distant galaxies. Life forms from millions of light-years away visited earth in return.

Earth and its new planetary neighbors organized the Galaxy Defense Force, the GDF, in the year I was born, 2145, and 26 years later, I tossed my cap in the air as a graduate of the 2171 Class of the GDF Officers Academy, once known as West Point. At that ceremony, most of the hundreds of caps tossed into the air came from new officers not born on Earth.

Earthly perceptions of life had changed beyond recognition since the advent of the Jovians. The first concept axed was the idea of heterosexual reproduction. Earth’s two-sex system was almost unknown throughout the galaxy. T’krang, for example, considered Earthmen as somewhat inferior sexually–we couldn’t be bred. Thousands, millions of planets had populations who could not understand the concept of two sexes.

Society on Earth changed rapidly. Earthlings wishing to reproduce could mate “straight,” adopting the centuries-old term for heterosexual sex, or they could mate homosexually and foster needy children–from any planet.

I could never get interested in other men, though, making me a “Straight.” I had a girlfriend on Earth and enjoyed sex with her when on leave. Although common and socially acceptable, I had never had sex with a man. Wasn’t interested.


My first assignment orders sent me to the GDF Cruiser Scimitar. I was excited. The Scimitar was the latest Jupiter design. It carried a crew of 300 commanded by a Jovian pilot. The crew’s duties were actually more commercial than military. Since voyages often lasted only a matter of minutes, crewmen from the various planets had trade and public relations responsibilities. More often than not, GDF ships carried cargo for trade.

The Scimitar was heavily armed, but its terrible main weapon was the sole responsibility of the Jovian pilot. Earth’s military had installed guns on the Scimitar, much slighter weapons for use in encounters with pirates and smugglers, and my duties would be with those cannons–also with the ship’s communication systems and maintenance. Betturkey

The GDF shipped me to the New York Space Station, so-called because it hovered over northeast America serving as a major intersection point for interstellar travel. We replacements from the Academy assembled at the docking platform and got acquainted.

Sergeant T’krang, one of the few members of the crew like me–bipedal with two arms–gravitated to me naturally as a “recognizable” life form. As a “humanoid,” he was physically most capable of operating the Terran weapon systems, and that was his assignment. He was my assistant.

From Stugardia, a planet in the Andromeda Galaxy, Sergeant T’krang was a fire-being. Life on his planet existed in temperatures many thousands of degrees hotter than those on Earth. Steel and granite would melt at the temperature of his bloodstream.

Like many visitors to Earth and all members of the GDF on active duty, he wore a protective suit–but his protected us from him. Designed by the Jovians, the protective suits enclosed us in thought-perimeters. The suits were almost nothing, weightless, tightly clinging (around every hair, over the eyes), but they could not be felt. Neither could they be measured. Made of moaan, they could be described only as the thickness of a thought.

But they were incredibly powerful, allowing nothing to pass through, not temperatures, not pressures, not gasses, not solids (like projectiles). And by another incredible technology, the suits generated within themselves the atmosphere–pressure, humidity, and gaseous components–necessary for the wearer.

In his protective suit, Sergeant T’krang looked like a big Earthman, and although his body was like lava, he was a “man” of fire–a body of black plates separated by fissures of glowing red flames. If he put off his suit and exposed himself to the air, his body would burn to ashes anything in a 20-mile radius. But with the suit, I could actually touch T’krang and his 15,000-degree body without harm.

Later I would learn how profoundly (and deeply) he could touch me.

By Earth standards, T’krang was “in great shape.” Although he was volcanic, a creature of fire, I had to admire his body. Its shape was perfect: Apollo in flames. Again, as a Straight, I noticed only in appreciation of his physical development.

The suits protected us from literally anything. Mine warmed me in the cold of space, protected me from the heat of T’krang’s body, generated oxygen for my respiration (reassembling and modifying atoms from my exhalations, sweat, dead skin cells, etc.), and protected me from piercing impacts.

But the suits were as transparent as thought and required contact with the living organism they contained, so we could wear nothing underneath them, meaning all members of the GDF on duty were naked. Planetary origins, nametags, and rank symbols were painted directly onto the body of the soldier.

After 124 years of Jovian spacesuits, shyness had long since disappeared. I had seen every creature in the known universe stark naked. And they had seen me.

As the alarm sounded for the approaching ship, the other replacements and I stood at Attention at the docking platform. The appearance of the Scimitar was a stunning sight. I couldn’t help but gape.

The Jovians had overcome the restrictions of travel faster than light. Through their radical manipulations of physics, they moved non-corporeally–travel as a matter of “transposition,” not moving molecules from one place to another.

In the same way one can imagine the Planet Mars in a fraction of a second, the Scimitar could travel there as quickly–but as disembodied thought. Since nothing could retain its solid structure in the terrible storms and pressure of Jupiter, Jovian technicians worked with thought as a building material–the ships, like their creators, were mostly thought.

The Scimitar gradually faded into view like a fog, a vague silver cloud. Designed to be visible, it was a ghostly, needle-like shape floating at the dock like a silvery dream. As it drew closer, the docking tube extended out to it, clicking as it registered “contact” and “sealing,” although only the docking tube itself was clearly visible. The steel tube extended from the station, but only a vague, silvery, nearly transparent fog lay beyond it.

I glanced to the side and saw Sergeant T’krang, and again I gaped. His cock had hardened at the sight of the Scimitar, extending out like the docking tube, but his was a thick shaft of blackened lava plates with fiery seams. God, what an organ!

I smiled, thinking of what sex with that creature would be like, but I brushed the thought away.

We proceeded through the tube and found ourselves standing on a solid deck in the Scimitar. Looking down, I saw a metallic-appearing deck, a shimmering platform of glowing metal decorated in ornate, complex engravings–but with a second look, the intricately curving, fractal Betturkey Giriş designs were actually part of the support structures. But with yet another glance, the designs became the very surface of the deck itself.

But I knew (although I couldn’t believe it) I was not looking at metal. It was moaan. Thought-matter. It looked like metal for my benefit.

I had to look away–it was like staring at the swirling, dizzying maelstrom I saw behind my eyelids when roaring drunk at a cadet party. From the outside we had seen nothing, just a vague fog!

Met by one of the Scimitar’s officers and following him through the ship, we passed control consoles–glassy, transparent panels like sheets of diamond–and walked through hatches and passageways also made of the eerie metal that appeared to be formed of its own decorations.

The officer introduced himself as Major Erdeux. The Jovian suit also transmitted spoken words through the vacuum of space to a nearby suit, and my own would translate the sounds into English. In return I could speak in English, and my words would be translated by the listener’s suit.

One of the major’s tentacles gestured for us to be seated. We had been instructed about that at the Academy, but in reality–sitting on “nothing” required some determination and force of will. Since the Jovians never “sat,” the provision of seating facilities in the ship was for the Solids, a built-in sensitivity in the moaan plates to support any solid life form whose center of gravity appeared to be shifting past the point of self-support.

In other words, “Sit, and the chair will appear.”

It was incredible. As I squatted slowly, the floor rose to meet my butt, and as if I were sitting in water, the “seat” formed perfectly to every nook and cranny of my lower body. As the suit conformed to every millimeter of my body, so, too, did the chair–it flowed around my buttocks, and it tickled as it conformed perfectly between them and against my asshole. The more I relaxed, the more the seat supported my weight until I relaxed fully and leaned back.

As Major Erdeux waited for us to be seated, I looked around at members of the crew going about their duties. Beyond a perimeter of about twenty feet, nothing more was visible, as if we were in a twenty-foot ball surrounded by stars and the blackness of space. I could not see back through the passageway. After about twenty feet, it was “gone.”

The Jovian engineers had adapted the Scimitar to use by solid life forms in that its features were visible close up, but beyond that, they were not. Incredibly, the visibility of the ship appeared to be relative to each viewer–in other words, the visibility of the ship was in my mind, not in the ship’s formation. I wondered if other species saw the decorated, silvery deck panels as I did, or did they see something more related to their experiences?

Like the seats, the ship’s operating controls supplied a virtual solidity, meaning they could be touched and operated by the Solids. Gaseous species were more at home in the Scimitar, since its physics and geometry “made sense” to them and did not require adaptations. Earth had encountered other Gaseous species since the Jovians–Saturnians and Neptunians, for example, and Sergeant T’krang, for all the hellish solidity of his lava-like body, as a creature of fire was a Gaseous.

I looked at him again. Odd that he, the crewman closest to Earthlike appearance, with two arms and two legs, was a life form farthest from Earthlike. And that cock! Hard to believe that thing was only a fiery gas. Conformed in the invisible protective suit, it was a huge tube of fiery lava capped with a flaring cockhead–God, he still has an erection! This duty must be terribly arousing to him!

Major Erdeux then introduced the Jovian commander, whose name came out of the Translator as something like Mm-llaan. He was enclosed in a suit that made his body visible to us, forming him artificially into the shape of a human. His speech was vague and distant (but so were those of all higher officers). When he left, Major Erdeux led each man to his duty station and told us to prepare to disembark.

The ship’s exit from Earth was an experience beyond comprehension. The Scimitar could exceed a million times the speed of light, canceling all human concepts of physics. To travel to the Large Magellanic Cloud, 160,000 light-years away, took a half-second, as long as it took to think of it.


The Large Magellanic Cloud, third-closest galaxy to the Milky Way, contained a planet from which a great deal of the Earth’s Afreydium came from, making the small, desert planet Shuraan a significant training partner. We disembarked, and the crew members with the assignments regarding Shuraan moved off to meet the officials. The rest of us took photographs, bought souvenirs, and in some cases–like mine–sampled Shuraanian liquor.

When we returned to the Scimitar, the trip back to the Earth took only a few minutes. There we received new orders to travel to a planet orbiting the star Altair, 100 trillion miles away, again only an eye-blink for the Scimitar.

Nonetheless, because of rendezvous missions with other GDF ships, delays for maintenance operations, and side-trips to supply GDF outposts, the voyage would take two days.

Once on our way, still drunk, I puttered with the Terran cannons, wondering if I would ever get to use them against pirate ships or smugglers. I looked at the circuitry of the Scimitar’s primary weapon, the Jovian Thought-wave, and I shuddered.

A larger version of the Scimitar’s main weapon protected the planet Jupiter, itself. The planet’s weapon combined the thought-desire of the Jovian Assembly, their governing body, then massed it, interwove it, and meshed it with solar power falling upon the giant planet.

Jupiter, whose mass exceeded that of all other planets in the solar system combined, received such titanic radiation from the sun that when all solar power shunted momentarily to the weapon, the resulting power-beam could instantly incinerate an entire planet, to say nothing of vaporizing any attacking space vehicles.

The Scimitar’s Thought-wave was not as powerful, wielded by only the mind of the Jovian commander, but with necessary energy teleported to it from Jupiter, the Scimitar could reduce any attacker to a glowing blob of magma soon cooling to a frozen meteorite in space.

The view from my portal whited out in a glowing blur of passing stars. I checked the Terran cannons again, and checked my paperwork, but even with those duties, I had little to do. Since actual travel lasted only a matter of minutes, I learned the greatest amount of time we would spend on missions with the Scimitar would be on other worlds spreading goodwill and initiating commerce and trade.

Still under the influence of the Shuraanian whiskey, or Cladasch, as they called it, which I guzzled only an hour or so before, I lowered my head into my arms and snored.


I awoke to T’krang’s shaking of my shoulder. “You, Lieutenant Tom, you wake up now. Your sleep period is over.”

“Yeah. I dozed off. Nothing’s going on right now.” I smiled. “You know how it is.”

T’krang smiled the satanic grin of a monster from hell, applying what he had learned in his courses in interaction with Earthlings: a sign of friendliness.

We Solids needed exercise to stay healthy, and the Jovian ship had a chamber for that purpose. He invited me to try it. As we worked out, any sweat my body produced absorbed instantly into the protective suit, and it responded instantly by reducing the temperature inside.

I did not see T’krang sweat, of course. Water dripping onto his body would flash into steam even when he was cold. As I watched him exercise, I chuckled to myself. T’krang had a great body but like a male calendar model from Hell, the statue of David in slowly cooling lava–black plates of stone connected by fissures glowing red.

His humanoid configuration was awesome, no doubt about it. I had to appreciate the muscular, heroic shape of what on me would have been pecs, and his “belly” was a fiery, steaming armor plate like a fire-scorched cobblestone street.

Looking at T’krang inspired me to work harder at my exertions. Something else: I found myself getting aroused for some reason, getting a hardon. But why? I had often seen other Stugardians naked in the Jovian suits.

Although T’krang was not of a species with heterosexual reproduction, he had a cock that dropped my jaw. Easily as big around as my forearm, it hung halfway to his knee, a glowing, fiery protrusion like a missile burned up in an armory fire.

After his workout, we left the chamber–and even in my protective suit, I felt overly warm. I wasn’t much of a reader of Stugardian gestures and attitudes, but T’krang seemed distracted.

He invited me to his bunk for a “drink.”

I walked over to his corner of the bunks area, another place where the moaan of the ship would rise up to support a creature reclining to sleep, and he dialed the Generator for “beer.” That would be mine, of course. As a fire-based life form, he did not ingest anything I did. He dialed himself a container of molten sulphur.

Drinking was another miracle of the Jovian suits. I didn’t know how it worked for T’krang, but whenever I ate or drank, the force field of the suit expanded into my mouth cavity when I opened my lips. When I chewed, my teeth did not actually contact the food, the surface of the suit did, but when I swallowed, the suit became membraneous at my throat and allowed the food or drink to filter through and pass into my esophagus.

We sat on his bunk, drinking, talking blah-blah about weapon settings. Then he said something very cryptic. Again, I was no expert at Stugardian expression and tone of voice, but he sounded almost mournful: “I crave.”

“Crave? Crave what? Another sulphur? Let me get you one.”

But he looked at me, and somehow I knew those fiery eyes were filled with sincere pain. I realized he was serious, but I couldn’t understand the problem.

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