Chapter 6
Jaime
I’m not dead.
I don’t exactly know what I am yet, but I’m definitely not dead.
Despite its size, claws, and the plethora of sharp teeth, the creature acts more like a curious cat than a flesh-eating murder-chameleon.
It seems intent on sniffing and licking me rather than biting me, which might be weird, but as long as it keeps me alive, I’m fien with it.
It’s possible the creature is only keeping me alive to have a fresh snack later, but since there’s nothing I can do about that at the moment, I’m going with the flow. At least until I notice the cock.
As the creature moves sinuously around me, poking and sniffing and tickling me with its tongue, I don’t see it at first. Then it straightens up and nearly smacks me in the face.
It’s long and thick and, fuck, are those spikes?
What kind of freaky penises do alien lizards have?
More importantly, what exactly is the creature planning on doing with that cock?
It, he, I correct myself, is an animal. He must have some form of a mating instinct but I’m clearly a different species and male on top of that.
Surely, an animal would recognize that? Unless it reproduces by laying eggs inside other species?
Oh my god, is that why he saved me earlier?
To use me as a host for creepy murder-chameleon babies that will chomp at my insides before bursting out of my chest?
Can’t the universe just give me a fucking break already?
The worst part is that the alien is kinda cute, and that cock is magnificent.
If he were a sentient, intelligent alien and approached me with an offer of casual sex, I would have jumped on it.
Well, not jumped, but crawled as fast as I could.
Or whizzed over in my hoverchair. Damn, I miss that thing.
“So, um, friend. What exactly is your plan with that club between your legs?”
The creature ignores me, his expression tight as it looks around.
“Are we in danger? Are more of your people around? Or something else out to eat us?”
He doesn’t respond. Instead, he peers down between the many pairs of his limbs, as if only now noticing he’s hard.
The hiss coming from him certainly suggests it.
He reaches for his cock and just when I’m convinced I’m about to get a first-row seat for a murder-chameleon jerk-off session, he tries to stuff it back inside the slit it emerged from.
Hissing and clicking in frustration or perhaps anger, the alien wrestles with the thick shaft that clearly doesn’t fit inside of his body while fully erect.
Even I wince when he hisses, this time clearly in pain, as the cock slips out again.
“Okay, this is clearly not working,” I say, offering unsolicited advice. “Can’t you just, I don’t know, take care of it?”
The alien seems to follow the same train of thought because instead of stuffing the cock back inside of him, he grips it tightly with two of his hands and starts moving them up and down.
If the circumstances were different, I wouldn’t mind a face full of alien cum, but this is clearly not the right time or place, nor the right company for that.
Distracted by his cock, my new friend lets me crawl away, too focused on self-pleasure.
Returning to the river, I splash some water on my heated face, hating the small tingle of awareness running through my own cock.
That’s so fucking wrong. He’s an animal.
Getting horny for him would be over the top disgusting and all kinds of wrong.
Like jerking off while thinking about a dog. I shudder. Nope. Not going there.
I should just be grateful I’m alive. Perhaps even take this opportunity to leave. I won’t get far before he’s finished, but maybe he will have lost interest in me by then.
No such luck. I barely make it a few feet before his shadow looms over me. His cock is gone, at least. Small mercies. Climbing on top of me, the creature hisses angrily. Did my trying to leave piss him off?
“I’m sorry,” I say. He clearly doesn’t understand me, but my nervous rambling seemed to have positive effects on him earlier when he spaced out and started whining and clawing at his head.
If he likes my voice, I’m golden. I can keep talking for days straight.
“I thought you weren’t interested in me anymore, considering you were having a date with Lady Right Hand.
Well, in your case, Ladies Right Hands, I guess?
It must be fun to have so many limbs to jerk off with. ”
He hisses again but doesn’t sound as angry anymore. Sniffing at my legs again, he pokes my knee with one finger, lightly at first, then with more force.
“Yeah, those don’t work. Haven’t for a while. If you’re looking for a hunting buddy, I’m very much not your person.” I’d probably make good bait, though.
Fascinated, the creature grabs my ankle, lifting my leg a few inches before letting it go. As it thuds uselessly on the ground, I shake my head. “Still not working. You probably aren’t able to understand that, are you? I guess lame animals don’t survive for long in an environment like this.”
Whether he understands or not, my murder-chameleon seems satisfied.
Maybe he instinctively understands that I won’t be able to run away from him.
I’m probably the easiest prey around. Still, he doesn’t attack me.
Instead, he crouches by my side, moving his arms underneath me as though he’s about to pick me up.
“Wait, what—ungh.” Before I can protest, he lifts me by my midsection so I’m hanging over his arm folded in half, my internal organs squishing under my own weight.
“Wait, this is not—” He decides to “support” my neck this time, and now I’m choking as well.
Squirming, I try to free my arms but they’re pinned by my sides by the arm wrapped around my middle.
Wheezing, I try to cry out, but it comes out as only a hoarse whisper. “Stop!”
To my utter relief, the alien sets me down and starts chittering anxiously. Ignoring him, I roll onto my back, desperately gasping for air for the second time today. This place really is out to get me.
When I look at my friend again, he’s crouched low to the ground, whimpering, all of the spikes along his spine flattened. It’s like he’s trying to look as non-threatening as possible, and it’s so awkward it’s actually sweet.
“Okay, we’ll need to have a conversation first,” I tell him sternly.
He’s definitely reacting to the tone of my voice because the words make him whimper again which, in turn, makes me feel like a dick.
“I appreciate you wanting to carry me,” I continue in a softer tone, “but this is not how you do it. If you’re smart enough to use a rock to kill an alien scorpion, you should be able to learn things, right?
I mean, you basically used a tool, which is a huge evolutionary thing.
Then again, crows use tools too and they aren’t what I’d call evolved, so…
Where was I? Oh, yes. Carrying.” I don’t know if I should be so cooperative when he wants to carry me away, but he’s clearly set on the idea, so I can at least make sure I don’t die during transport.
“Come here,” I urge him. He doesn’t understand, of course, curiously tilting his head at my come-hither gesture.
Deciding to take charge of the situation, I crawl a little closer to him.
The creature’s look turns suspicious, but he doesn’t react, not even when I slowly reach for him.
When I wrap my hand around his wrist, he freezes, not even breathing.
The only thing telling me he’s still alive is his eyes, blinking in sync.
The front pair, then the side pair. A short pause, then the front pair again and the side pair again. It’s mesmerizing.
Reminding myself of my goal, I gently tug on his hand. “You can, um, touch me like this.” God, why did that sound dirty in my mind? What the fuck is wrong with me? “Under my legs.” I guide his arm under my knees, then have him wrap a second one around my upper body. “Good. Try it now.”
The alien stares at me wrapped in his arms, his expression indecipherable. He looks somewhat…hungry, but not for food. Or my filthy mind is just projecting, which is a much more reasonable explanation.
Slowly, he lifts me off the ground, holding me like I’m a bomb, ready to explode at the slightest jostling.
When I don’t protest, because it’s actually nice not having to crawl over rocks and sharp twigs, he moves his other two arms around me, resettling me against his chest in a hold that’s comfortable for him.
Since being held by four arms instead of two is more comfortable for me as well, I let him do his thing.
His skin is surprisingly warm, nothing like I’d expect from a lizard-like creature, and quite smooth.
His scales are tiny and soft, easily moving under my finger when I experimentally touch his chest. Realizing I’m basically fondling someone who’s probably going to eat me later, I quickly draw my hand back.
Even my weirdness has its limits. Most of the time.