A TRADE DEAL WITH ALIENS
By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
Mark walked into the Far Star Bar and looked about, inhaled sharply. The Far Star Bar was, in a word, intimidating. Fifty or sixty kinds of aliens, most of them unknown to him, were sitting around (or standing beside, or lying near, or lying on) tables of various sizes and shapes. The Far Star Bar was located at a nexus of the intergalactic travel lanes and as a result, got all kinds at all times. He felt out of his league...hell, he felt out of his universe! But he had to find Bloxnir the Glymian here, and the sooner the better.
Find Bloxnir? Hell, he wasn't even certain which were aliens, which were drinks/snacks/decorations, and which were tables! That last item was driven home when one human woman (there were maybe a half-dozen humans in the place besides himself) put her drink on one table-shaped thing and received a growl of complaint in response. She apologized profusely, shook a proffered tendril the "table" extended, and as a gracious gesture, bought the table/alien a drink. That earned her the right to use the alien (as a table!) to hold her drink for her while she went to a row of doors, picked one, and went inside. Bathrooms, apparently. Mark didn't even know how to tell where the bathroom was! No 20th Century American tourist in Tijuana would have doubted the importance of that tidbit of knowledge!
It would have helped if he'd had some idea what Bloxnir looked like! Or even what Glymians looked like! But Glymians opposed having themselves photographs or depicted or explained in any physical way such as computer data; he'd had to settle for a physical description instead of a computer link. He'd been told, to wit, "Look for an alien that's big, green, weird-looking and got a lot of hands." Back on good old Earth, as description for a potential business associate to contact, that had seemed to be plenty. How was he to know it could describe a dozen different denizens of the Far Star Bar?
Well, nothing to do but wade in and start asking. How many aliens would have the name Bloxnir, anyhow?
Maybe Bloxnir was the intergalactic equivalent of "Smith!" Yeesh! Wish he hadn't thought of that!
Okay, get started! Which alien best fit the description "big, green, weird-looking, with a lot of hands?"
Well, how about that one over there, the one that looked like a cross between a spider and a cactus? It was up on three legs and the other four...five...seven were busily holding a drink, paying his tab, scratching an itchy abdomen, and stroking the buttock of a rather startled-looking human male about sixty years old, all at the same time. "Lots of hands" on this one, all right, even if they were all three-fingered pincher-like things
That last decided him. His primary qualification for this job had been to find Bloxnir, introduce himself and feel Bloxnir out as to several business deals. The problem was that his information, sketchy as it had been, included the proper way to introduce yourself to Glymians. You had to have sex with them and the Glymians were known to prefer human males to females. This had let Mark edge out Glenda and Elvira who had also been up for the job.
The things you had to do sometimes to make a trade deal!
This spider-cactus had been putting the make on a man. He was big, green, weird-looking and all hands (in more ways than one). He must be Bloxnir.
So Mark went over just as a girl who was apparently with the older man said, "Now stop that! Leave my father alone!"
"What's the matter, aren't you humans friendly and intensely interested in sex?" the spider-cactus alien's translator said.
"Not with the likes of you, we're not!" the girl exclaimed emphatically.
That clinched it. He had to initiate sex with Bloxnir to introduce himself, this alien had been trying to introduce itself to the girl's father by offering sex. This MUST be Bloxnir!
Well, in that case, he knew just what to do. Reach out and grab hold of Bloxnir's sexual extension and...uh...where was it?
Up close, the alien was less spider-like, and more like a sunburst emblem standing up on its lower rays. The "cactus" appearance turned out to be soft hair clumps arranged much like a cactus' thorny spike-bundles.
"Hello, human." the spider-cactus greeted him. "May I help you? Perhaps by some mutual sexual release?" It added hopefully.
"Yes, of course." Mark said. "If you can tell me which one of these projections of yours is your penis."
The alien blinked. "My penis? Why, can't you tell? It's this one over here." two of the hands pointed at one of his projections, a shorter one with a thick knob on top.
"Good." Mark said. "Now we can get started." He only had to bend over to grab hold of this dong, it was near the center of the alien's body.
"Hork?" the spider-cactus alien surged upwards as Mark stroked on the pud. It was slenderer than any human dong he'd ever pumped on, and the small bulb at the top had the advantage of keeping his hand from sliding off it.
"Hork, hork, hork, hork!" the pud was getting hotter. And swelling as he pumped it, not like a human dick, but like something big and capsule-shaped was rising up through it. He felt the huge form swell up around his fingers, work its way through them up to the tip, and the alien's "hork" sounds were getting frantic. Must be about time for this, uh, potential business associate to shoot his load!
"Come on, Bloxnir, squirt it out and squirt it hard!" Mark urged. Various aliens were watching him in attitudes varying from horror to surprise to glee. Of course, in a place like this, morals had to be very, very flexible. What was right with one alien was improper with another. The girl who had fended off the spider-cactus' advances on her father was watching this with a very curious expression indeed.
"Hork, hork, hork...hor-hor-hor!"
"Let go! Now!" the girl shrieked at Mark.
"Huh?" Mark looked at her and missed just what happened next.
"HORK!" the alien shrieked and suddenly something long and slimy was plastered on his hand and arm. A long, white thing about the dimensions and size of a short, very fat wiener (the kind you eat for lunch, that is) was lying there, glistening and warm.
And the spider-cactus alien was darting away as fast as he could go!
"Now you've done it." the girl said to Mark.
Mark was plucking at the clump of (presumably) alien spunk. "Bloxnir ran off!" he complained. "He wasn't supposed to run off! We were going to discuss a trade deal!"
"Bloxnir?" the girl said, surprised. "That wasn't Bloxnir, whoever Bloxnir is. Plevnid males don't have names, and that male was just out to get rid of his sperm sac. Which you just did for him, for free, no less. Some businessman you are, jerking off random aliens without studying them first!"
"Glymians don't like to be studied." Mark protested "Hey, this stuff doesn't come off. And it's beginning to sting, too!"
"The sac coating is beginning to dissolve. Better get to a doctor and quick." the girl suggested. "After an hour or so, the Plevnid sperm will start worming its way into your flesh, dissovling your skin as it goes."
"Yow!" Mark said. It felt like the sperm sac had just pinched him!
"Better hurry. Otherwise, you'll lose most of that arm before it runs out of steam."
Mark made it to the doctor which was fortunately around the corner (a lot of patrons of the Far Star Bar ended up needing medical services while learning their way around aliens, he learned), and after a rather painful extraction and some flesh regeneration, he was out of there again, a thousand credits poorer but somewhat wiser. Back to the Far Star Bar!
Inside, he resolved to be more cautious this time. Ask around. Someone would know who Bloxnir was, yes? He tried the five big-green-weird aliens in the bar, and none of them were Bloxnir, nor even Glymian! Nor could any of them describe a Glymian for him. He was still stuck with his original instructions to work from.
He sat at a table with a red blob thing that perched on the table's edge and dripped off the end. "You made that Plevnid rather happy." the alien said. "Need a drink to wash that down?"
"More like a knife to cut it off." Mark said, but he accepted the drink, it was an Earth beer he was being offered. "I need to find Bloxnir, and before the end of the day."
"Who's Bloxnir?"
"All I know is he's big, green, weird-looking and has a lot of hands." Mark said for the umpteenth time, hopelessly.
"You mean like that one over there?" the alien waved a tendril at the door. Something new had just come into the bar.
Big, all right, more than ten feet tall. Green, definitely. Weird looking, in that it was covered with a thick layer of mucous. And hands, the thing was hands all over...sort of. It had tentacles that had other mini-tentacles on them, making like a dozen dancing fingers on each projection. A small brown alien rode its shoulder like a parrot would a human.
"Close enough, I guess. Okay, here goes." Mark got up and went over to the alien. It had just sat down a table vacated by a dozen small wasp-like aliens. The mucus splattered as he sat down, as he laid some arms and tentacles on the top.
"Pardon me, but are you Bloxnir?" Mark said rather hopelessly.
The alien looked up at him. "Yes." came the answer. "I am Bloxnir." The voice was like wheels rolling over gravel.
"Oh, thank God!" Mark said. "I've been looking for you for hours!" So this was what a Glymian looked like. Sticky! The guy describing Bloxnir could have mentioned the mucus! "So, can I introduce myself to you by giving you a blow job?" God, he nearly barfed saying that. Bloxnir was so...so sticky! And smelled awful, like rotting chicken meat! Bleah!
Bloxnir reacted by reaching down and pulling one of his tendrils up onto the top of the table. This one didn't have tendrils. This one had...oh, my God, that was his dick! Huge! Mucus covered! And smelled worse than the rest of him. "Yes, you may. Here it is."
"Oh, geez!" But he had to do this! Otherwise, Bloxnir wouldn't deal with him, or with his company! He'd been sent here all the way from Earth, specifically, to suck this particular cock. This big...nasty...slime-covered...cock! Oh, God! Mark felt a barf coming on, fingers on lips and a hard swallow helped him avoid it.
Now the cock was writhing and the head rose up and slithered Mark's way like a snake. And this snake was aiming to kiss him! On the lips! That realization brought another stifled barf!
He felt something at his legs. Looked down and saw the spindly brown alien which had been riding Bloxnir's shoulder unbuckling his pants with his six small arms! The thing was barely five inches long! And it was after Mark's cock with rape on its mind!
He would have done something about the brown alien, but now Bloxnir's dong was shoving itself into his mouth! Glug! Oh, God, it tasted worse than it smelled. He hadn't thought that was possible! Call it rotten chicken meat that someone had eaten, thrown up, eaten again and then blown out his nose with the second retching!
And the brown alien at his pants had hold of his pud. Oh, God! Nice! Those fingers were so soft and warm, and the alien was just the right size to wrap itself about his prong and he could hold on with some of his arms while the other ones pleasured him.
Mark felt an odd feeling at his glans slit, the alien had inserted its own cock into Mark's slit! Not too big, it couldn't have been more than the width of a normal electrical wire. And not cold or hard at all, it was warm, very warm, pliable and it was sliding in and out of him, fucking his cock while the hands gave him pleasure!
Then Bloxnir's cock shoved itself deeper into his mouth! Mark choked, gagged, wanted to throw up but the cock in his mouth was too large, it wouldn't let him! Other arms were reaching out and slimy goo was getting all over him, slithering and slathering him with their obscene moisture.
Oh, God! What had he gotten himself into?
Bloxnir's dick was pulsing in his mouth now. Mark was bearing it as best he could, though it was like re-swallowing his own vomit to take that dong down his mouth over and over.
And then Bloxnir came! Hot foul-tasting spunk squirted into his mouth, down his throat, and Mark couldn't get room to spit any of it out. Best he could do was blow some out of his nostrils, which stung and made the smell get right up into his nose and stay there!
Finally, it was over, Bloxnir's cock pulled out of his mouth, leaving a thick layer of slime all over his mouth and throat.
Now he could and did start spitting. He no longer felt quite the need to throw up now it was over, but that didn't make the slime in his mouth taste any better! By hawking and spitting repeatedly, he got the worst of it out of his mouth and away from his body. Then he realized he was alone at the table.
Bloxnir? Where was Bloxnir?
Mark stood up and looked around, had a horrid thought and peered over the table, and down to where Bloxnir had been sitting at the chair's seat.
A large puddle of green goo was there, dripping off onto the floor. Enough that, if you scraped it all together, you would get.... "Bloxnir?"
Bloxnir had disintegrated into a pool of goo, which was getting thinner and more liquid by the second and running down the drain. He had killed Bloxnir!
Mark sat back and ran his fingers through his hair. Both were slime covered, but that was liquifying as well. What the fuck was he going to do now?
Hey, that brown alien. It was still riding his cock, giving him a body-job (giving a hand-job for a hand-sized alien took his entire body), and now he didn't have a nasty dong in his mouth to make it unpleasant.
"Shit!" Mark breathed as he lay back on his chair to give the brown alien more play. His life was screwed now, he might as well enjoy the first decent sex he'd had all day!
The little brown alien was insatiable. Mark squirted a load all over the brown alien, who gurgled happily and kept right on fucking/jerking him when he was done. He sat there, drinking beers, trying to figure out how to explain how to tell his employer that he had sucked Bloxnir and Bloxnir had turned into green goo and dribbled down the drain! While he was puzzling over that, he had a second climax, and damned if this one didn't feel every bit as good as the first. He should have been dribble-city on the second one!
"How do you do that?" he asked the alien who was still clinging to his still-hard cock.
"We have a special device we wear while having sex with someone." the brown alien piped up at him. "It reinvigorates the skin and revitalizes the nerve endings. It increases sperm production as well, I can keep you coming as long as I want to, once every queepeep!"
"How often is a "queepeep?" Mark wanted to know.
He found out by experience garnered over the rest of that afternoon and evening. About forty-five minutes. Mark ate, drank, talked with other aliens, and every so often, groaned and squirted another primo ejaculation all over the insatiable brown alien. Bloxnir may have disintegrated, but he'd left Mark one hell of a parting gift! He could live here forever, or as long as his credit held out.
But even the Far Star Bar has to close now and then, to give its employees and computer-monitored equipment a chance clean out the garbage, hose down the tables and generally get ready for the influx of new visitors. That time came and Mark staggered out the door, with the brown alien still clutching his pud. The latest queepeep was almost up.
"Hey, there, what is your name?" he asked the alien as he walked down the causeway to his hotel room as best a man could with his boner being worked as he did.
The alien made a sound that the translator identified for him as being a "sound of mortification." "You can call me...Bloxnir."
"You're Bloxnir?" Mark stared down his pants at the small, brown, spindly looking alien. "So what was that green monster I had to suck off and tasted so nasty?"
"He is Bloxnir, too." The alien said. "The Bloxnir I told you to look for. I wanted a chance to try you out, and if you were unacceptable, I could leave and you'd be none the wiser. But you are acceptable and for that reason I want to choose you as my mating-phase partner."
"Mating phase?"
"The last portion of the Glymian life cycle is our mating phase. We choose a partner among our females which are approximately your own size, we mate with her and continue to mate with her as I am now doing with you. But we die when the young hatch out, for they consume us, us still helplessly attached to the female and still mating with her with our last breath. I didn't want that. I wanted to keep alive, keep mating forever, so I needed to find an alien who would be compatible with my species in my final form. So I sent out my prospectuses in hopes of enticing an appropriate alien."
"So you plan to just sort of stay down there?" Mark asked. "Working my dick over and over again, every day and every night."
"I will let you rest as much as you need." Bloxnir assured him. "I can choose not to mate with you if need be, you aren't a female feeding her hormones into my body.
"But what about the prospectus?" Mark thought of the many inventions that "Bloxnir" had offered, enough to make him willing to deep-throat a mucus-coated alien to get it! "What about the many useful inventions you promised my company first option on brokering for you?" . "I will deliver everything I promised in that prospectus," Bloxnir said blithely, "to the firm which has my life-partner in its employ. I can dwell here inside your trousers, and whisper to you every secret my race has to offer."
Me, Mark realized. I'll be the one who comes out with the new technology. Starting with a way to permanently revitalize a limp dick!
"Mark! There you are! Did you meet with Bloxnir?" came the shout.
Oh, God! Jeffrey! "Hello, Jeffrey." Jeffrey was a co-worker of Mark, a glad-hander and an account-stealer. What was he doing here, he hadn't even been in the running for this account?
"Did you find Bloxnir? Did you get him to sign up with us?" Jeffrey pressed him.
If he told the truth, Jeffrey would find a way to turn Bloxnir into his customer, not Mark's.
Then Mark had an idea. "Bloxnir is in there right now, thinking over the agreement." Mark said. "He looks like a half-spider, half-cactus alien. Just go over and grab hold of the smaller organ at its nexus and start whacking on it. I think another human partner for him will seal the deal for sure." While leaving, Mark had seen another Plevnid male inside the bar, also trying to put the make on someone, anyone, who would let them. "Better hurry, though, I think he's about ready to leave."
"Hey, thanks!" Jeffrey took off and into the Far Star Bar. "I owe you one." he called over his shoulder.
"More than one. But now, I've already been repaid." Mark said and laughed.
So did Bloxnir. "I have chosen a clever human for my mating phase partner." the small Glymian gloated.
"I guess so. So you're stuck to me for the rest of your life?"
"If you cannot or will not agree to this, I can still detach myself." Bloxnir explained. "You are not a Glymian female to glue me to yourself with your fertility-inducing fluids and hormonal tube intrusions into my body. Say the word and I shall let you go. But I shall not work with you as I promised."
"So I can only get Glymian technology for Earth by becoming your sex partner, forced to ejaculate every forty-five minutes right around the clock for the rest of my life?" Mark said.
Then, after a dramatic pause for effect. "Well, if that's what it takes to make a trade deal!"
THE END
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E-mail the Author at Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM