Alien Intervention #2
The fear of being pierced with neither lubrication nor stretching had his rising erection settling back down, but the ship’s robotic arm managed to enter his ass without tearing anything.
The metal was so smooth and slick and the tip so conical that it slid right in—a long, hard wand like a really expensive stainless steel dildo. But cold. So cold.
MJ whimpered into his gag. How far in were they going to shove that thing? It was too unbending to go much deeper and too thin to be of much use sexually.
Hilu went over to a video screen on which a red, splotchy image appeared. MJ cranked his head as high as possible to better see the picture. Was that his ass? Were they looking at the inside of his ass?
“Hey,” he tried to complain, with absolutely no effect. He dropped his head back down because it was too much work to hold it up and tried not to listen to the aliens discussing his inner anatomy.
“There appears to be a protrusion here,” Hilu said, waving a hand toward the screen.
A protrusion? Was there something wrong with him? He lifted his head again just as Hilu gave the ship an order. The ship responded by applying pressure to the “protrusion,” which turned out to be his prostate.
“Ah!” he screamed into the gag. “Stop poking at that. That’s supposed to be there. Poking at it only makes it sensitive. No, no rubbing. Don’t rub it.”
Oh, shit. His cock, which had been a little uncertain about the icy cold stiffness inside him, had decided it liked icy cold stiffness if said icy cold stiffness massaged his prostate. It started to swell noticeably.
“I believe dilation is in order,” Gabu said. “We’ll need to get considerably deeper to thoroughly explore his interior.”
Oh, no. Both the idea of dilation and the part about going deeper sounded like trouble to a bottom boy who was already struggling to control his arousal.
Hilu withdrew the metal rod from his ass and yanked over a wider metal appendage. No way this one was going in without lube, but the aliens seemed to understand because the new tentacle was hollow and dispensed its own lube as it went.
“Apply dilation,” Gabu ordered, and the next thing MJ knew, the lube-dispensing tube began to expand in his ass.
“Yes,” Hilu said with one eye on the screen. “We’re making progress now.”
“The creature’s channel curves,” Gabu observed.
Hilu issued a command and the tube began to curve too, snaking its way through MJ’s insides.
This was ridiculous. Colonoscopies were supposed to involve anesthesia, and the tube had to be in his small intestine by now.
It kept getting wider as Hilu called for more and more dilation in an attempt to push MJ’s prostate out of the way but his prostate wasn’t going anywhere, no matter how much pressure they applied to it.
Unfortunately, the pressure, not to mention the depth and breadth of the metal tubing were having an effect—on his cock. He couldn’t help it. The aliens could call this a medical exam all they wanted but he’d never been fucked so deeply. Of course he was into it.
“Hilu!” Gabu said in alarm. “The creature is having a reaction.”
He sure as hell was. Gabu and Hilu surveyed his cock with concerned expressions.
“It’s terribly swollen,” Hilu said.
“I fear it might split,” Gabu said. “What do you think is the cause?”
“An obstruction of some sort is blocking normal functioning.” Hilu consulted a screen. “The diagnostic manual suggests the phenomenon is called choking.”
Choking? What the…?
“Something is stuck in his esophagus.”
“But is that the esophagus?” Gabu asked doubtfully. “I thought the esophagus was located in the neck.”
“It must be a second, lower esophagus. The diagnostic manual says we must treat the condition immediately or the creature will die.”
If they wanted to treat his condition, they should tell the ship’s robot arm to back the hell off because as long as it continued to plumb him, his “lower esophagus” was going to remain obstructed by his growing need to come.
“What must we do?” Gabu asked.
“According to this, we should pound on his back until the obstruction clears.” Hilu gave the ship an order, which caused MJ to be flipped like a pancake. The tube was still in his ass, still churning its way ever deeper, but now his cock pointed at the floor, sprinkling it with pre-come.
“That’s saliva,” Hilu said knowledgeably. “This tube must indeed be a second esophagus.” He gave MJ several resounding whacks on the back, which caused him to lose his breath. At this rate, the aliens were going to kill him with the very asphyxiation they thought they were curing.
“The obstruction isn’t clearing,” Gabu said, peering under MJ at his cock which had failed to get any less hard. Did these aliens understand nothing about human anatomy? “I believe the maneuver needs to be applied closer to the esophagus in question.”
“Good thought.” Hilu shifted his pounding to MJ’s ass, which was… uh oh.
“Saliva production has increased,” Gabu reported.
“Excellent.”
It was not excellent. It wasn’t excellent at all.
It was hot and wrong and MJ was writhing in his bonds, churning his hips as the rhythmic slap of Hilu’s rubbery alien hand only served to get him hotter.
The robotic arm grew wider in his ass and his cock grew wider with it as he started to hump up to meet the slaps raining down.
“The creature assists in his treatment,” Gabu reported happily. “Don’t falter.”
Hilu didn’t falter. He increased both the frequency and intensity of his slaps until he seemed nearly robotic himself. MJ whimpered into his gag, choking out his pained pleasure as he strove for release with the help of an alien and a ship until he came in an explosion of come and joy.
“The obstruction is expelled,” Gabu said with satisfaction as he watched MJ’s release jet onto the floor. “Now to see if the swelling decreases.”
“May I cease the maneuver?” Hilu asked. “My arm fatigues.”
“I will continue.” Gabu changed places with Hilu. He continued spanking MJ, but more gently, as if he were burping a baby, as Hilu fondled MJ’s softening cock.
“Swelling has sufficiently decreased,” he said, giving MJ’s cock a last, gentle tug. “We can continue the probe.
MJ groaned. He was satisfied now but afraid more probing would result in a repeat of the entire exercise.
Then again, would that be so bad? He rather liked being probed. He liked having his obstructions cleared too. And that lower esophagus Heimlich maneuver? A new favorite.
~~~
MJ woke up in his bed, the lingering remains of a very strange dream teasing at the edges of his memory.
He’d been abducted by aliens, he remembered with a grin.
They’d probed him and spanked him and made him come.
Apparently if he fell asleep annoyed about not being able to find anything kinky enough to jerk off to, his unconscious brain supplied something far kinkier than anything his conscious brain could conjure.
It must have been a wet dream too because he felt satisfied now. More than satisfied. He felt seriously drained, as if he’d come more than once. But there was no wet splotch on his mattress, no evidence of ejaculation staining his sheets. Weird.
He rolled lazily onto his back, then much less lazily onto his stomach. His ass was hot and sore, and when he got out of bed and examined it in the mirror, he saw that it was bright red with three-fingered bruises.
How had he managed to do that to himself? Because he must have done it to himself. Aliens didn’t exist. And if they did, they didn’t spank you to orgasm while their ship massaged your prostate.
Right?
Right.
~~The End~~
For lots more hot alien sex, check out Probed, which features a rebellious human and a multi-tentacled alien