Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
ETHAN
Shafts of light burn through my eyelids, stirring me from a fitful sleep. Scrunching my eyes shut even tighter, I try to go back to that dreamworld to finish out the saga playing through my mind. I’ve had weird dreams before, but nothing like this.
Even now, I can feel the blue goddess’s lips wrapped around my cock, sucking me dry as she clenches her fingers around my balls. Sex dreams aren’t new for me, not since around puberty. But a blue alien as the main character? That’s a first.
Either way, one of the first things I need to do after I get myself off is talk to Jeffrey. Out of all the things in my dream, the two that stand out the most are Special K and Lorazepam. First off, maybe I should actually search for Lorazepam on the internet. It could be it’s just a made up word.
Special K, unfortunately, is something I know all too well. It’s not like I partake, but in the glamorous world I live in, the term gets tossed around every now and then at parties. Still though. Lorazepam... Something to help me sleep. That much I remember from the dream.
But I don’t have trouble sleeping. Usually after a shoot and a night of partying and fucking, I’m passed out on my bed. No help needed. It has to be my subconscious just fucking with me.
The fact that I’m worrying about some potentially made-up drug more than blue aliens auctioning me off as a bull is telling.
My mind is just trying to grab onto all these weird things and make them make some sort of odd sense.
Better add to my list. Get myself off, go search Lorazepam, talk to Jeffery if needed, then go get an appointment with the first shrink with availability.
I know I’ve been trying to stuff down my emotions ever since I left my parent’s farm, but it’s starting to affect me in ways that I can’t seem to understand or even control.
Auctioning me off as a bull. There has to be some deeper meaning there, something a head doctor will be able to help me understand.
An irritated sigh flits through my lips as I lie there, trying to recapture the eroticism of the dream I was having, but to no avail. Perhaps I’ll be able to get started on the other parts of the list sooner then.
As I go to open my eyes, the brightness blinds me, making me shut them back almost instantly. Even when my curtains are open, it’s not that damned bright. I must be at someone else’s house. A face swims into view, but not a name.
Fuck.
Finally, I wrench my eyes open and blink into the light, sterile room. Nothing about this is familiar. Soft beeps assault my ears and cause my head to pound and throb. But as I bring my hand up to rub my temple, I stop short.
Nothing about this feels right. My body feels far weaker than it should. The last time I felt like this was when I was recovering from a sprained ankle when I was younger. Gritting my teeth, I force the heavy limb up to my face and rub away the pain.
Despite the discomfort, an odd pleasure continues to ebb and flow through me with every inhale and exhale. It washes over my skin and forces my abs and balls to contract. Soon, the memories of the dream come over me, bringing me back to that cusp of need and longing.
As I arch my hips up, I glance down, a smile curving my lips as I picture the blue goddess pleasuring me. Only... she’s not there. My blood runs ice cold as I watch the odd contraption squeeze and release my cock with robotic, rhythmic movements.
No one else is here. It’s just me and this damned machine. As consciousness trickles into me, waking me up fully, bits and pieces click into place. The blue fuckers. The auction. The goddess. None of this is a dream. Somehow, it’s all frightfully real.
I allow my head to plop back down onto the pillow as my body continues to prime itself for orgasm. I’m far too gone now to stop it. Even if I want to, the ache in my balls is relentless, edging out all other discomfort until that’s all I can concentrate on.
My fingers clench the sheets as my limbs shake with need.
Closing my eyes, I try to conjure up anyone other than the Mistress Rancher, but I can’t do it.
Even the chick I fucked before coming to this strange planet seems to drift out of my memories like smoke drifting off the asphalt after a soft rain.
Her lovely eyes bore into me as she opens her mouth, desperate to take my cum into her body. There’s a longing there, a desperation I haven’t really seen before in the others I’ve fucked. I want to come onto her again, to smear her with my fluids until she’s coated in them.
A feral groan rips from my lips as the machine tightens even more. It’s as if it can sense how close I am. The part around my balls changes, turning into a light rippling motion, as if it’s her fingers dancing along the tight, sensitive skin.
Unable to resist any longer, I allow the stupid machine to fully milk me, draining me of cum as I’m helpless against it.
My hips undulate in the air as I watch the white, pearlescent fluid fill the tube and drain away to some other part on the side of the bed.
As many times as I’ve come in my life, whether inside a woman or not, I know about how much cum I produce.
What drains out of me, however, it’s not at all a normal amount. The pleasure continues to roll through me, as if I’m orgasming over and over again without the ability to stop it. Copious amounts of cum travel through the tubes as I’m left a groaning, writhing mess.
Eventually, the pleasure fades, and all I can do is lie on the bed and gasp, dragging in lungfuls of oxygen as I try to make sense of everything. As if the machine can sense that there’s nothing left in me, the suction releases, giving me a respite from the sensations lingering down below.
I need to move, to walk, to clear my head somehow. Rising, I grip the tube and pull it off of me before tossing it onto the bed. Every muscle burns as I try to use them, but it feels good. It feels alive.
As I stand up and look outside the enormous window, it finally seems to fully sink in. None of it is a dream. I’m truly stuck on an alien planet. Holy shit.
Part of me should be frightened, but the wonder of such an experience overrides it. Maybe it’s my brain trying to protect itself, but I refuse to look that deeply. For once, I’m not afraid. Intrigued, but not afraid.
Glancing down into the fields, I study the light blue grasses waving in the breeze. Growing up in Kentucky, I’m no stranger to the idea of blue grasses. Though it might be unpatriotic to compare the two, these grasses are a shade I’ve never seen before.
It certainly explains the hay I was resting on at the auction. Wonder and curiosity fill me, allowing me to ignore the discomfort burning through my body with each excited twitch. The need to go out there and touch it, smell it, and experience it thrums within my veins like another heartbeat.
If only my dad could see this. Even if I made it home, I’m not sure I can convey just how beautiful this is. It’s not a trick of the sun that I can tell. It’s not a shifting of the shadows. From here, it looks honest-to-God blue.
My gaze darts back and forth in the room as I try to find something to cover up in. Blankets, sheets, and towels, but no clothes. It makes sense, seeing as we were auctioned off completely naked. Ripping the soft bit of fabric off of the bed, I fashion it into a makeshift toga and head to the door.
Would it be locked? I wouldn’t put it past them to keep me chained in this room. As I try it, I hold my breath, sending up every positive thought I can that it might open. Besides, where exactly can I go? It’s not as if Earth is just a few blocks down the road.
As it opens, my breath comes out in a short, punctuated gasp as elation fills me up. The burn in my unused muscles slowly fades as I make my way down a sprawling staircase and into a massive foyer. So far, there’s no sign of life in the house.
Granted, if it’s a farm, like I think it is, they’re all probably out working. A giddy smile crosses my face as I wrench the glass door open and step outside. The scent of earth and farmland hit me almost instantly, nearly hobbling me to my knees.
Once I left home, I didn’t think I’d smell anything as lovely and pure as this. Tears burn in my eyes as I step out fully, drinking in the warm sun. The heat nearly robs me of my breath and threatens to scorch me, but it’s easily tempered by a lovely breeze.
Glancing up in the sky, everything stops as my brain tries to process what I’m seeing. Two suns. They hang there almost in opposition to each other. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think it was a mirage. Just like with everything else on this planet, it seems all too real.
I hoist up the trailing bedsheet and walk over to the grassy area. The plant is far softer than I could ever have imagined. Almost like wheat, but with a delicacy I’ve never seen in a plant. Unable to help myself, I pinch off a stalk and taste the buds.
An almost nutty flavor explodes on my tongue, signaling to my stomach just how hungry I am. As much as I want to devour this strange plant, however, my self-preservation is enough to remind me I have no idea what the hell this is and what it will do to my body.
As I look out over the fields, I try to find the Mistress Rancher, but still see no one. Dread drips down my spine as I walk about, keeping my gaze peeled for anyone. Why am I here alone?
Heat continues to beat down on me as I trudge forward, making my way to a row of trees. Though similar enough to Earth’s flora, it’s still odd enough for me to not have a name for what I’m looking at. Based on the neat, tidy rows they’re in, it’s not a stretch to think it’s an orchard of some sort.
It’s a massively overgrown orchard, but an orchard none-the-less. Who knows the last time these trees were pruned properly. Reaching up to grab a low-hanging branch, I dig my nail into the fleshy part and smile as a pale color appears under my nail.
Whatever it is, it’s still alive. That’s something, at least. Unfortunately, vines grow all around the thick roots and up into the trees, no doubt choking out the nutrients. Again, I look around, but find no one.
Well, she bought me for a purpose, so I might as well make myself useful while I’m waiting for food. Sweat beads on my forehead as I tug and pull, yanking the vines away and tossing them into the dirt.
It’s good, hard, honest work. The type I’m used to. The type I thrived under. Though my muscles protest, I find myself exhilarated at such a simple action.
No one is here telling me to stand a certain way or forcing me to rely on my looks instead of my brain. I’m not having to sell my soul for what money I can get. Here, I’m free. Here, I can finally breathe.
What is even more shocking is that not once have I craved any of Jeffery’s pills. Despite all the upheaval I’m facing, despite being who knows how many light years from home I am, I don’t need it. I don’t need any of it.
All I need is this—air, freedom, and hard work—to keep my mind from spiraling.
“Stop!” A soft, feminine voice cries out. “On your hands and knees now!”