“And that means they will probably destroy the study specimens,” he concluded. “Because they won’t have the time or money or inclination to return them to their places of origin. That dooms you.”
Yes.
“Medusa, I can’t just let you out. This planet is doomed. It has air and gravity compatible with Earth life; that’s why the base is here, and why you are here for observation. But outside this base it is going to be burned off and reseeded. You would soon die.”
Yes.
“Then what?”
And in due course he came to it: she wanted him to help her return to her own kind. Because otherwise she and they would die. She was trusting him with the secret of her intelligence and her ability to shift her form, and asking for his help.
“Medusa, this is impossible! They will not let me simply lead you out of here, let alone let you board a spaceship, assuming there were a refuge for you on some other planet. I can’t just buy tickets for two and escort you there the way I could for a woman. You’re an alien creature!”
She lay on her back and spread her legs. Her torso was now startlingly humanoid, with full breasts and thighs. He realized that she was emulating the nude figure on the girlie calendar he had put on the wall, and doing it remarkably well.
Medusa was trying to seduce him into helping her. The thought repelled him. Yet as he looked at her, he also felt a certain guilty temptation. She was trying to be human-sexy, and he had not seen an available young human woman in months, let alone had sex with one. There were only the matronly officer’s wives, and prostitutes he couldn’t afford.
It was of course impossible. Yet he appreciated her need to try to save herself. Were she a human woman captive, sex with a guard would be an obvious idea. Men would do just about anything for sex. How well he knew it! She was thoroughly alien, but perhaps her mind worked similarly in this respect. Had her captors been male monsters of her species, it would have been a fair ploy.
He spoke at length, knowing she would not understand every word but should get the essence. “Medusa, I think I understand you. You want to survive, and you are prepared to do what it takes to make it possible. Even if it means prostituting yourself to a horrible alien male, which is what I surely seem to you. You have made your point. I will try to help you. Not for sex, but because you are nearly sapient, and it would be wrong to let you die. But there are things you need to understand. This must be secret. If the human authorities knew you were sapient, they would not only destroy you, they would send a warship to this planet to extirpate your entire species. The relatively gentle terraforming process would be put on hold, in favor of habitat annihilation. Because humans are essentially xenophobic. We don’t want to tolerate any competitive species who might theoretically make war against us and possibly eliminate us. We assume others are like us, so we expect mindless violence from them. I’m personally different, because I’m with HETA. We value aliens, and would love to discover alien sapience and safeguard it from harm. Maybe some day this will be standard for everyone. But right now, no one else must know. You do understand?”
She understood. In fact, that was why she had contacted him, picking up on his special orientation. It was a remarkably savvy choice.
“I doubt this will work, but we have to try,” he said. “We must make you emulate a human woman so well it will fool others, at least for long enough. But this will be a challenge, and we don’t have a lot of time.”
She understood.
Erik considered. “First I need to know exactly what I have to work with. Do you have any other abilities you haven’t shown me yet?”
She did not move, but she changed. Her color had been tawny; now it shifted to brown, then to black. And on to red, green, blue, and white.
“You’re a chameleon!” he exclaimed. “You can change your color!” Then he reconsidered. “But can you do two colors at once?”
Her hide faded to white in stripes, and intensified to black in the spaces. She was almost like a zebra. Then she became a tapestry of colored blotches. He knew that the only Earthly creature with ability like this was the cephalopod: the squids.
“One more thing. Can you do a picture?”
The calendar girl formed on her skin, in full color.
“And you never showed this to any human being before me,” he said, awed.
The picture faded to the original tawn.
He realized that a predator like this might be able to emulate the prey it stalked. A panther mixing with the herd of deer. Presumably she could control her odor too.
But how could they have captured her? She could have emulated a dog or even a person, and faded from notice. But he thought he had the answer: colors were fast, but a full emulation needed everything together. A shift of form required redistribution of flesh and bone, and that could not be hurried. She must have been caught by surprise, and unable to shift without revealing her ability to do so. So she had remained in the form she was at the moment, with its limitations. It was better than getting killed as a devil thing.
Now she was revealing herself to him, because the alternative was to die when they closed the base. She was trusting him out of desperation. But he was not desperate; the closing of the base would simply send him back to Earth; could he trust her? Because were he in her cage, she could kill him in an instant.
“Medusa,” he said carefully. “You are trusting me because at worst I will betray you and you will be killed. That’s the same fate you face otherwise. You are not really gambling. But how can I trust you?”
She lay on her back, showing her open torso again. It was almost perfect now, supremely sexy.
“No. You are offering me sex. It would be no good if I got into the cage with you, and you killed me. I can’t help you unless I can trust you not to attack me the moment you have the chance.”
She considered a moment. Then she got to her feet. She stood against the bars of the cage, facing him, pressing her torso forward. Her breasts projected through, to a degree, and her crotch was accessible. It would be possible to put his penis into her without entering the cage.
“Medusa—” he protested.
She let go of the bars with her paws, but kept her body touching. She thought he was afraid she would claw him. Indeed, that was possible, but that would merely warn him of her treachery and end their association. He was sure she would not strike unless by doing so she could escape the cage, and then the base. No, his objection was the idea of having sex with an animal.
Yet her torso was now thoroughly human, in form and color. Only her head was alien. He also knew that her intellect was closer to human than to animal. She was no beast, and she was tempting.
It also occurred to him that there was really no way for her to prove herself except by interacting in this manner. It might not be solid proof, but it was a step. If she would do this without attacking him, there was at least the chance that she could be trusted further.
But how could she know what human sex was all about? As far as he knew, her species did not practice sex. They must have some other way to reproduce. Maybe they budded. So she was simply trying to show her willingness to interact with him in whatever way he wanted. She knew from the calendar that he liked the human female form, so she was emulating it. How would she feel if she knew what he would like to do with such a form?
Well, actually, maybe she did, because he had read erotic fiction to her, where the women were always lovely and eager. How much of that had she really understood? Maybe more than he had supposed.
“Medusa, do you know what sex is?”
She shook her head, then nodded: she had a notion, but knew that there was much she still didn’t know.
“Do you even have sexes?”
There was no reaction. That meant that the concept was foreign to her. So her female form was a blind guess.
“It is a—a coming together of a man like me and a woman like that.” He indicated the calendar girl. “They kiss and stroke, and he puts hi
s penis into her. Do you understand?”
Again that ambiguous indication. She did not know enough.
He had to be more specific. “She has a vagina, a—a hole, here,” he said, touching the crotch area of the calendar girl. “He has a penis, here.” He touched his crotch. Then, realizing that this was hardly sufficient, he opened his fly and brought out his member.
She looked, but still did not understand. He knew why: his penis was limp, in no condition to penetrate anything. In the erotic fiction it was always big, thick, long, and hard. She did not recognize his meager example.
Then he got an idea. He put his member away and brought out his cell phone. He punched in the code for one of his favorite erotic videos, a remarkably virile bare man having at a marvelously endowed bare woman. “Can you see this?” He held the little screen up before her face.
Yes.
“Watch what the man and woman do.” He played the video. The man approached and kissed the woman’s mouth, then kissed her breasts. Her nipples expanded and his penis rose to moderate erection. She took her turn, licking his member and taking it briefly into her mouth. Her attention caused it to swell further. Then she lay down on the convenient bed and he inserted his now fully erect penis into her cleft, slowly at first. When he was well inside, he thrust and thrust, endlessly, in the manner of such productions. She wriggled and moaned, pretending that every thrust evoked almost unbearable pleasure. It was the standard fantasy.
Medusa watched intently. Was she getting it? She seemed to be assessing things, as if fitting the puzzle pieces of his prior reading together with the visual sex of the video. The two united should provide a fair notion of the whole.
He jumped the interminable sequence to the conclusion. The man thrust harder, groaned in rapture, then drew out his glistening member and let it spurt into space. After that it diminished, and the scene faded out.
“Do you understand?” he asked. “That is sex. Men like to do it with women, only they prefer to ejaculate inside her, not into space. When you take the form of a human woman, I would like to do it with you.” Oops; he hadn’t meant to say that last. But he realized it was true.
She considered briefly. Then she pointed to his crotch.
What could he do? He brought out his penis again. Now it was half erect. The very thought of her seeing the erotic video had turned him on. “When a man and a woman are ready for sex, his penis gets hard,” he said, “as you saw. Mine is not ready yet.” Because he was in serious doubt about the propriety or sanity of what he was doing.
She put a hand against the bars. “Mmmm?”
Again, what could he do? He had to be sure she understood. She might chomp it off, but it was a necessary gamble. He stepped up close and put his penis through.
She touched it, stroking it with surprising gentleness. She closed her fingers about the shaft and squeezed delicately. It sprang to full erection, exactly as in the video and the readings.
She nodded. She resumed her posture against the bars, her crotch within reach. She understood what he wanted, and she was willing.
He made his decision. He fetched his scarf. “Cover your face,” he said, passing it through to her. Because that was the one remaining thing that made her totally unhuman.
She took the scarf and wrapped it around her head, concealing her tentacles and triple eyes. Now she looked like a heavily veiled woman. She set herself against the bars and waited sightlessly. This was another act of trust on her part.
Erik dropped his trousers and shorts. His erection sprang out anew. He approached the bars. He bent to kiss the projecting nipples of her breasts, as the erotic video had shown. She did not flinch. In fact her nipples expanded, exactly as in the video. She was a quick study.
Then he guided his taut penis to her crotch. He found her channel, and the hole at its base. He pushed in.
It didn’t work. She had formed a vagina, but it was far too flaccid to provide satisfaction. He might as well have poked his penis into warm water. Though water was not a fair parallel; it was dry.
He withdrew. “Make it tight,” he said. “And wet. Slippery.” Could she do that?
“Mmmm.”
After a pause to give her time, he tried again, using his finger. This time the hole was moist, but so tight he couldn’t wedge his finger into it. “Make it a little looser,” he said, without withdrawing.
Then he felt the tightness easing. He poked in as deep as the finger would go, and it was fine. He returned his penis to the site. He was able to push in some with his thicker member, then more. She felt his penetration, and adapted to facilitate it, getting it right. Her vagina was slick and firm and warm. He pushed in further, then all the way, cautiously, concerned lest he be hurting her. But she remained firmly placed against the bars, evincing no sign of discomfort. Her channel was tight and hot, like those in the readings. He drew back a little, then thrust in more vigorously. She reacted internally by squeezing in rhythmic ripples and pushed her pelvis forward so as to facilitate his entry. She was getting it!
Then his urgency overwhelmed him; he thrust with abandon and ejaculated, pulse after pulse. The orgasm was phenomenal.
“Oh Medusa!” he gasped. “That was great!”
“Mmmm.” She seemed pleased. Was he imagining it, too eager to have her like it?
Then he withdrew, ashamed of himself, as his penis lost hardness and went flaccid. A drop of drool descended from it. He had had sex with an alien thing!
Medusa remained unmoving, the scarf masking her head. She still looked exactly like a woman. A driblet of his spent semen leaked from her cleft. He had really done it, spurting copiously into her. And already his urge was returning, making his limp member twitch. Whatever she was, whatever her motive, he wanted more of it.
And his commitment was made. He would help her escape the cage and save her life. He would enable her to return to her world, if that was possible.
And he would be having sex with her again. He knew he would not be able to resist, now that she was so human in appearance and action.
“You have trusted me,” he said. “Now I trust you.”
“Mmmm.”
“But Medusa, there is far more to emulating a woman than sex. A real woman talks and walks on two feet. Can you walk? That way?”
She unwrapped the scarf, gripped the bars with her forepaws and stood. Then she stepped away from the bars, balancing precariously. And dropped to all fours. The answer was no.
“We can say you’re mute,” he said. “Unable to speak because of recent surgery. But you can’t go four-footed.” He considered. “Could you walk if I supported you?”
“Mmmm?”
It was time for his next significant act of trust. He had had sex with her, but he knew next to nothing of her real preference. Sex was the beginning, not the conclusion. She could use sex to get him into the cage with her, then kill him.
“Medusa, I’m going to enter your cell. If you are waiting to kill me, this will be your chance. Otherwise, I want you to let me hold you up, to walk on two feet. Okay?”
She nodded. This was a victory for her, but he could not be certain of its nature. She would either let him, or kill him. Her claws might look like relatively harmless nails now, but she had other ways.
He unlocked the gate and entered the cage. He realized that he had not yet put his pants back on. He was nervous, but she did not pounce. That meant that she knew she needed him to facilitate her escape. He hoped.
“Now let me haul you up to stand with me,” he said.
She didn’t wait. She hauled herself up, and he caught her around the middle before she could fall. They stood face to face, their bodies in full length contact. She remained nude and shapely, and her breasts were flattening against his shirt. Only her completely alien head, now so close to his, betrayed the truth.
“Damn! I’m getting that feeling again.”
“Mmmm.”
“It’s okay with you?”
“Mmmm.” She still
had the scarf. She wrapped it around her head.
“Thanks.” He kissed the scarf where her human mouth would have been, willfully deluding himself. Then he held her firmly at the hips and lowered his head to lick and kiss her breasts, which were even fuller than they had been. He didn’t really have to do this, as he was already hard, but he wanted to stick to the formula she was familiar with. Also, it was a real pleasure touching them, enhancing his urgency.
Then, standing, no bars between them, he bent his knees to lower his torso just enough, used one hand to fit his penis to her cleft, and angled it in. He put both hands on her rounded buttocks, drawing her in close. He thrust, and his member rose eagerly up into her pelvis. She squeezed in that rhythmic way she had, making it as good for him as she could. He could not remember a human woman being as obliging in this manner, outside and inside. Only the ones in the erotic fiction, significantly. He thrust, and thrust again. His edge was off, because of the prior session, but he felt the orgasm gathering in the depth. The third one did it, and he erupted, spewing more juice into her belly.
Then, remaining embedded, he hugged her close and kissed her scarf. In that moment, he loved her a little. He had done it, and she hadn’t killed him. “Thanks!”
“Mmmm.”
His diminishing penis dropped out. “Here’s a detail,” he said. “I put some fluid into you. It won’t make you pregnant, but it has to be cleaned up. Not allowed to drip on the floor.”
She withdrew from his embrace, dropped to fours, then lay all the way down. She curled her torso around, removed the scarf, and put her mouth to her cleft. She had no tongue; she simply sucked it in. Then her tentacles wiped up the remaining spill and fed it into the mouth orifice.
“But we were about to learn to walk,” he said as she concluded. “To see if you can do it well enough to pass, if I support you.”
She climbed back to her hind feet. He put his arm around her narrow waist and held her close against him. “Now I will step forward. Can you match me?”