This story is written as a sequel of the story Alien Erection by Limo Man chub_bi@hotmail.com. The characters names and the scenario are taken from that story. If anyone knows of another existing sequel - I would like to read it - and LimoMan, thanks. This story is about the intimate lives of gay men and aliens, and their friends and people in that community (all male). It contains depictions of sex between all of those groups, and you should stop reading if that sort of thing bothers you or any authorities in your area. Cheers. Calvin anatomicalwunda@excite.com
Aliens - Alien Erection II
My name is Mike - and this is my story.
It begins just before my 15th birthday, because that is when it starts. That is when my life became something different, something worth telling. I hope that some of you reading my story will recognize it and try to get in touch. That is if there is anyone like me out there.
I live in Larsen, North Dakota, a small rural community with a gas-stop, and not much else. Larsen isn't known for much either, a few folks stop for picnics at the old wooden bridge, and some adventurous types stop on their way through to the Devil's Crown - the only rock formation for miles around, popular with rock-climbers and camping nuts. Most people around here move away - the ones that are left are farmers children and grow up to be farmers. My dad and I live on a small farm up in the hills well out of town, and on the way up to the Devil's rocks.
Dad and I do not have much to do with the people of Larsen. I don't school anymore, most of what I know I learnt from my dad and from our travels together when I was a kid. We've been back home for two years now. It was hard for dad at first, he called Larsen home until he was my age, and moving back was obviously difficult for him. His folks live around here somewhere - they don't speak to each other, so I never see them - but Dad says we have to stick this out together if I am ever to get to know my family.
Dad is a great friend - and knows a lot about everything. He is a handsome man, something about the way he carries his slight frame tells me he is not long since a boy himself, but his face has the sort of gentle weathering that comes from a life well lived. He says he is happy to be back, and takes great pleasure in fixing up the abandoned farmhouse he has made our home. Dad has no friends except me either, and takes no company - except occasionally when he lets a backpacker or someone stay the night. Dad is gay - which is ok - I think he struggled with it a bit when I was growing up. He didn't know how to tell me, or was worried that I would blame him for never knowing my mother, or something. He sure as hell took a lot of trouble to be sure that I never thought anything was different about him, or us, our little family together... but I knew.
Moving around like we did, I realized that we must be different from other families. They grew roots and stayed in the one place - we never stayed put for more than a year. As I grew older, I became more aware that my father was searching for something. He was pretty much a loner, he never held a steady job, and he spent a lot of time trying to find people like him. We lived on a hippie commune once, in Arizona - and one year we lived in a big share-house in San Francisco. One year, dad was the gardener for a rich family in New York, and on his days off he would take me into the parks and galleries in the city. Dad would leave me in some place familiar to me, often I would ask for the Smithsonian, and go off for his important meetings. Usually he would return looking disappointed, and was hard to talk to on the train home. Not long after that, we moved here.
I liked moving here. Dad is so relaxed, we have so much space around us, and I never get into trouble or feel like I am a burden to him. I have made some friends here, down at the pond. There are one or two boys a bit younger than me, who meet up to swim after school. They were a bit wary of me the first time I said 'hi', I don't think they expect to meet new kids unless they are introduced at the school, and my introduction was probably a little lacking in detail. I am reluctant to tell people about Dad's family being here. But now, they are pretty relaxed when they see me - I think they are envious that I can swim all day, as I don't have to go to school.
They were pretty relaxed the other day, when they threw their backpacks and clothes onto the small dirt 'beach', and swam out to the raft where I was sitting. I was busy baking my buns on the grayed timber, and concentrating on lifting off a palm-sized flake of sunburn peeled skin. Summer was just begun, but had already provided enough sun for me to get an even amber tan, it seems I'd even over done it a bit. Wayne and Kevin pulled their bodies out of the water and flopped down onto the raft. You could almost hear the sizzle of water frying on the baked boards, and Kevin amused himself by lifting up his butt and watching the two round puddles where his buttocks had been evaporate, and then splodge down again to make another 'stamp' and watch it disappear.
Skinny-dipping was the done thing here, which was lucky for me as it has always been natural to me - since the days on the commune. Wayne and Kevin were white all over - they hadn't had as much time in the sun as I had - both were blond, like me, but both Kevin and Wayne had blue eyes - and mine were gray.
Wayne was flicking his nipples lazily, and said he thought he'd seen a hair there. Kevin proudly showed the slight downy shadow appearing above his dick, which was still a boy's, and Wayne lifted his underarms to inspect for signs of growth. I knew where this would lead. I had seen enough in my time to know that I was what was called 'lucky' in the cock department, even as I sat there my limp cock was trailing on the boards between my legs. Thick and fleshy it cascaded over my loose ballsac, and lolled about on the raft. Wayne pointed out - as I had become acutely aware - that I had not a hair on my body. I was nearly two years older than they were - and my large nipples and developed cock proved I was growing into a man, but not a single hair obscured the sight of my impressive dick. I used my usual fair complexion excuse - before remembering that both these lads were blond also. It had begun to worry me privately, although I didn't mind the look, but I had been waiting to grow a bush there like my dad's for some years.
"Make it move again!" yelled Wayne.
I had expected this also - we often lazed amusing ourselves inventing tricks with our bodies, and of course, it was not long before I realized that if I tensed my arse muscles, I could make it my cock jump slightly. Actually, it was a bit more like a lurch, really, and I was surprised the boys hadn't learned how to do it yet for themselves. The problem with it was, (as I had found out the first time), if I did it more than a few lurches, my dick began to fatten and straighten up, causing not so much entertainment, but a silent, and embarrassing, awe. This is what was starting to happen then.
I rolled over, off the side of the raft, and into the water. As I came up and put my elbows on the timber, Kevin was still laughing at Wayne trying to do it himself, and Wayne was teasing Kevin that he had never even had a 'stiffy'. Our amusement was interrupted by the distant sound of a car going over the old wooden bridge. Both boys copied my dive-roll and surfaced beside me in a few seconds. The pond was totally secluded, surrounded by a steep bank, and no one ever came up here. Larsen's pond was a fair way out of the way and there was a more popular spot closer to town. We were not worried about being sprung naked by each other, but I didn't know any one who drove except of course Dad, and the boys apparently felt the same about being sprung by anyone who was old enough to drive.
Kevin broke off for the shore, and an unspoken race was begun. It wasn't very far, but Kevin had a clear lead. Kevin splashed his arms and legs wildly on the surface of the water; I went under and pushed off from the raft with my feet. I was fastest at a sort of underwater backstroke. I looked up to see Kevin's thin body silhouetted through the green water, his flailing arms and trailing legs working vigorously to keep him in the lead. Wayne was lagging, and his hands knocked at Kevin's ankles with each lunging stroke.
Looking up to see his position, Wayne's face became a contorted grimace under the water, a trail of silver bubbles escaping from his teeth. Seizing his opportunity he took one butterfly stroke, grabbed both of Kevin's ankles, and thrust downward. Kevin, taken by surprise, gave a stifled yell and was dragged beneath the water. His opponent skimmed over him, as Kevin opened his eyes in surprise, a surprise that doubled as he saw me watching the whole scene from my submerged lead.
A brush of gravel on my scalp told me it was time to surface. Now able to push off against the bottom, I gained an extra surge, and came up directly under Wayne, a head in front. His surprise at blindly flailing against my slippery skin made him stop instantly. He must have felt the gravel at his knees, and looked up to see me standing out of the water before him. Kevin stood behind and made a final dash for dry land. My eyes had landed squarely on Wayne and his on me. I couldn't work out whether there was anything more in his look than consternation at losing, just as I was not sure why I was brought to smile at him with anything other than the mockery you might expect. Our indecision led to our downfall as Kevin called from the shore, the clear victor.
I ran quickly to where I had hung my shorts and shoes, glad to be able to turn the signs of my arousal away from the other boys. I donned my shorts and turned back to see Kevin struggling with a wet foot full of dirt stuck inside one leg of his shorts, and saw that Wayne had sat back down in the water. Evidently he was as shaken by the experience as I was.
In an act of kindness I found his shorts next to Kevin, and threw them at a tree a little further away, but closer to the shore.
"Hey loser! Fetch!" I yelled to lend my action some credibility. The look in his eyes would have been missed by any other onlooker, but was clearly one of gratitude, not mortification.
Another car sounded over the bridge, and Kevin and I scrambled to the top of the embankment to see what it was. Wayne joined us shortly, and saw as we did that the car was not coming to the pond, but continuing up County Road 10 towards my place, and the rocks.
"That'll be another one I s'pose," said Wayne.
"Another what?" I asked.
"Another tourist," said Kevin, "Pop calls 'em 'star-gazers'. 'Parrently they've all come here to see something in the sky you can't see from anywhere else."
"Like what?"
"Like a constellation I suppose," said Wayne, "They've come to watch Orion entering YOUR ANUS!"
The boys fell about laughing, and tried to come up with other funny things to say to do with the stars and bums or sex, but none of them was really that funny. The heat had gone from the sun and Kevin and Wayne stuffed the rest of their clothes into their backpacks to carry them home. I fetched my old trainers and carried them until my feet were dry enough for the dirt to all fall off. I headed off in the other direction to the boys. We never made much of goodbye, as they would be there tomorrow, and today I was keen to get home and tell Dad about the stargazers. As I got to the creek at the opposite side of the pond, I did look around and exchanged a small wave with Wayne.
It was a long walk home from the creek, but the air was warm on my bare skin, and the setting sun had bought humming swarms of gnats that tickled lightly as I brushed through. The uphill climb usually took a bit out of me, and sometimes I dawdled, but tonight I wanted to see dad. Still, it was near dark when I made it home, so I must have dawdled anyway. There were no lights on in the house and the wire-door was flapping open in the light breeze. The headlights of a line of cars were visible on the main road down below the house. They were all slowly headed up to Devil's Crown, and I guessed they were going to camp up there.
I stepped up the four steps to the verandah that ran all the way around the house, and headed to the wire door to the kitchen. Dad had been mending some old crates to fit in the back of his pickup, and had left hammers and nails and planks all over the deck and I had to tiptoe around them. As I passed the parlor window, I noticed a light from my father's room, a flickering light that came out low and glowed across the old carpet. I first thought of the light from a TV set, but of course, we had no TV up here. I could hear talking in there, so I figured dad had somebody to visit. With all the campers around he might have 'picked - up' but it was unlike him not to shut his door at least. I tiptoed round the rest of the debris on the verandah and went in to the kitchen, deciding to avert my attention. This was Dad's time - and indiscreet or not - he didn't need me to introduce myself right now.
I tidied up some dishes from the day, and busied myself snapping the stems off some beans that dad had lying in the sink. The voices in dad's room got louder, and it seemed like harsh words were being thrown about. I began to be worried, and headed out to the parlor.
"Someone's here!" said a voice so clear it rose above the muffled voices I had been hearing. "Tomorrow!"
The voice rang in my head as if it was inside there - not in the room next door. The light faded, and I could hear no more. I was scared now to look. I really tried to respect dad's privacy, which was hard in such a small house, but now I was worried. No stranger he'd ever just picked up would yell at him. I edged into full view of the door, and looked in. My father was curled on his bed with his head in his hands. There was no one else in the room.
I came up to the doorframe. "Dad?"
He shot bolt upright, clearly startled. "Mike!" He was clearly upset. He had been crying, and the silvery stains of his tears were visible on his cheeks. His nose was running and his voice when he spoke was clagged up at the throat. He had been crying for some time.
I ran in to hug him. He smiled - we have always been close, and I knew my hugs meant the world to him. "Who was in here?" I asked.
"Sit down," my father made room for me on the bed, and patted it next to him. He looked into my eyes deeply, the way he did whenever he did when he was asking me to believe something he knew I would not find any support for anywhere else. I was used to it. I trusted him completely and had never wavered.
"Can I tell you after you have eaten?" he asked, adding "It can wait till then."
I nodded, and knelt on the floor. Dad stood before me and dropped his shorts to the floor. He lifted one leg and reached a forefinger down to flick the shorts across the floor. He was now completely naked in front of me. Dad had a beautiful body, slim like a gymnast's, with huge arms from all the farm-work, firm thighs and calves, a smooth and shapely chest, not overly defined, and the smallest waist hips. His back had a distinctive arch that gave definition to his tiny round buns, and gave him the slightest paunch in front - his only, but infallibly endearing, flaw. You could see why dad never had any trouble when he did want to 'pick-up', and I had often thought I would be attracted to him if I were gay also, and he were not my father.
He slapped his thighs and his groin, and gave his cock a light backhand. It began to grow. His, like mine, was thick and fleshy when it was soft, and as it grew firmer it rose gently forward in an arc out from his body- but not rock hard and not straight, when erect. He knew that I found it easier this way, so I had never seen his cock completely hard. Still, it was easily the length of my forearm.
I craned my neck beneath the swollen head, and dropped my jaw. Raising slightly off my knees, I inched my craning mouth and throat up the length of his shaft, swallowing as I went to ease it down. I straightened up my body as I rose, accepting his enormous shaft. It felt comfortable as my throat crawled to envelop it, it swelling to stretch me open to the point of satisfaction. Within a minute, I was facing his groin, my nose in his pubic hair, my eyes resting on his belly button. I reached around to his ass and rested my hands on his peach-fuzzed buttocks. I gave a slight squeeze to let him know I was ready, and he began.
Dad cradled my head in his arms and played with my ears lovingly. His cock started to pump his nutritious thick syrup slowly into my throat, and I drifted off as I always did into a dreamy haze. I couldn't breathe at these times - but just as at the pond today, it had never seemed to matter. As I dreamed of darkness and swimming lights, fading stars, and whirls of color, I felt my throat start to constrict rhythmically. Dad tells me he dreams of the same thing when he is inside me. We are at one together - and I often don't want this to end.
Dad gives my ear a tweak, and tells me not to be a hog. His cock has stopped pumping and my throat has stopped its automatic convulsions. He stands on his toes, and I crouch to the floor, as he stepped backwards and dragged his soggy monster out of my gullet. There is a glistening drop at the end of his cock, and I flick at it with my tongue as he lifts the swollen head out of my mouth. "You'll get yours!" he said as he always does, and flicks my cheek with the heavy limp penis. Only this time, as I look up into his eyes, I notice the tears are still there.
He sits on the bed and I crawl up to his lap, closing my arms around his neck and putting my head on his broad shoulder. He knows I can't speak directly after eating like this- so he rocks me silently for a few moments.
"Dad, who was here?" I ask, when my throat has regained its usual size.
"Somebody I have been expecting for a long time." he said, "Somebody I loved very much, and somebody who wants to meet you."
"Who is it? Where did they go? What is happening tomorrow?"
"You heard that?!" he looked truly shocked. Fixing me again with that look, challenging me to believe him no matter what my mind told me, he spoke clearly: "'They' didn't go anywhere. 'They' aren't here yet. Just a vision. A message."
"From who Dad, I want to know! Who wants to see me? Who made you cry?" My mind raced to think - we had been alone so long, just the two of us. I had never known anyone else who would want to see me and not just show up. So who was it, and where had they been all this time?
He gripped my face between his palms and placed his thumbs gently below my eye sockets, to direct and fix my gaze. His eyes were looking straight into mine, our noses almost touching. "Your father." was all he said.
If it had been anyone else - if he hadn't been staring straight into my eyes - I would have thought he meant to say something else.
"But!" I went to speak, but my recent feeding and the overwhelming emotion of the moment caught me, and my throat spasmed, bringing up some of my father's juices.
He wiped the corner of my mouth with his finger and licked it off himself. He put his fingers over my mouth and gave me a soothing look. I fell further into his cradling embrace, as he looked down at me and spoke.
"I haven't been entirely honest with you all your life, Mike," he said. "I thought I could tell you enough so that you would be able to get by. Enough that you and I could be happy together, to answer your questions, but NEVER to lie to you. And I never have..."
"We are happy," I murmured.
"We are." Dad continued. "I am the happiest person alive - because of you, and without you I would be the loneliest. But you are not here only because of me. You had..." he broke off, "I think I should tell you from the beginning."
What my father told me next was extremely painful to hear. My father had been cast out of home at fifteen by his own parents because they thought that he had become deranged. He claimed he had been abducted. His parents had not believed him, and thought that he had lost his mind. According to their story, he had not even been missing. Their son David just came down to breakfast one morning in tears asking for help and understanding. It was not until weeks later that David was able to recall the full story of what he had at first thought was a dream, and it was then that he began to claim his abduction.
"You know what it's like to wake up suddenly from a dream?" he went on, "You remember flashes vividly, then as you wake further the dream slips away. Sometimes it returns in waves."
David's dream had returned to him fully. It was an incredibly painful dream, because it brought up strong realizations about his sexuality that he felt he could not easily bring up with his family. When he finally told them he believed aliens had abducted him, and believed he was pregnant to the leader, they snapped. They refused to listen further to him, asking him why he would dream up such a fabrication just to try to hide the fact that he was a dirty little faggot. They wanted to send him to a hospital for a psych evaluation. He refused, and they cast him out.
"You forget, you filthy little fag-boy! I've seen your sheets! Your father and I know what you get up to! We have heard you in your room at night! And you lie... you lie to us... like some story from the National Enquirer makes it alright for you to want MEN! Get out of here! Get out of our sight!"
It was true. All she said was true. Of course, he had managed to clean up for himself the night of the abduction. He had woken up in a pool of sticky fluid, and had panicked and taken his sheets to the laundry before going downstairs to see his parents. But he was leaking fluids every night before long - and didn't realize until he started noticing he leaked as he walked, such was the bloated pressure in his stomach. It was also true about the voices - but he could explain them. In his dreams he was visited by a boy - the boy he had seen in the ship - a twenty-first century Gabriel counseling the boy who was carrying the alien child. And of course, he DID want men. He always had, but what had seemed like the most devastating secret only months ago at the pond when he noticed the other boys, was now the easiest part to accept.
Fifteen, barefoot and pregnant, David left the family home. There was nowhere for him to go, he was from the middle of nowhere - and knew no one. Even if he went to the nearest city - he would not be able to confide in a doctor. He needed help. He needed food and he needed somewhere to rest. Carrying a few meager possessions, clothing and some snacks, his aunt and uncle saw him of on the Grayhound station out front of the gas-stop.
A mile down the journey, David started to wretch. The woman next to him poked him - he was sweaty and pale, making convulsive lurches into the seat in front. The woman stood up and yelled for the driver, who took one look at David in his domed mirror and knew instantly. He had seen the effects of alcohol on youths before, and they always got the same care on the Grayhound. The driver stopped the bus, came down to help David forward, and as soon as he had propped the youth with his head between his knees on the verge, got in, shut the door, and drove off.
David was beyond disbelief. If there had been a bus at all, it was almost as surely in his dream as the aliens, the lights, and the visions of his mother. Truth and reality were blurring with the lights and the colors. David could feel the blood of the alien child coursing in his veins and attacking his own - and all David wanted to do was die. He began to vomit over his feet, and then he lay down and trickled vomit onto the bitumen. He closed his eyes.
The boy from the dream was there. Floating in the void between his eyes and the stars, distant but coming closer. A nebula glimmered behind him, like the sensation you get when you look through closed eyelids at the sun. The heat was intense and David was sweating profusely. He felt the warmth rush to his head again, and as it did - another lurch brought a wave of blood out of his mouth and all over himself.
"Dave" a voice caressed his mind.
David searched the back of his eyelids for Mike, but he was not there. "Where are you?"
"I am with you. On the road."
"I can't see, Mike. I am going to die." David was not speaking - he was thinking to Mike -, as he had been able to in the dream of the Spaceship.
"You are close to death. We didn't know where to find you. We didn't know you would leave your home. We can save you."
David gave a thought to protest. He was not sure that he wanted to be saved. In the last months, his life had changed so hideously and he was not sure he could live with the parts he could recognize as his future. He gave a thought to protest, but now he felt a new thought.
He opened his lips to receive a warm kiss from someone leaning beside him on the roadway. The kiss seemed to tingle with radiating warmth that took the clammy pallor out of David's skin. David felt something try to enter him through his lips, and he couldn't fight it. He had to swallow, and as he did - the warmth flowed down his throat and into his chest, into his belly, and he kept swallowing. He could taste something that he had tasted before - on the ship. He was swallowing the same delicious syrup he had sucked from the tube on the platform. He opened his eyes to see a blurred face in front of his own. He tried hard to focus - but could make out nothing but a face spasming in a kiss against his own lips. This kiss was feeding him - and he opened his lungs and stomach to the food.
The convulsions stopped. David lay prone on his back on the gravel, still lying in sick and blood, but no longer in pain. He opened his eyes again and could focus. Mikes face lifted from his own, a long string of saliva connecting their two mouths. Mike smiled and wiped the stream away with his shoulder.
"I've never done that before," he said.
"I -", David could not think.
"Shhhh." cooed Mike, "Sleep now," and he shuffled round to place David's head on his knees, and stroked his forehead as David drifted into a deep and restful sleep.
David woke as the heat from the sun gave way to the warmth rising from the bitumen. He opened his eyes expecting to find Mike, but again found himself alone. He looked down at his body - it was clean and free from the blood and vomit he had expected to find. His belly was intensely swollen, but was not causing him pain anymore - but a radiating warmth that tingled through him strongest, he noticed, at his groin and his anus.
David had a suffocating urge to rip off his clothes. The elastic of two waistbands was pinching his abdomen. Still lying on the road he threw off his shorts and shirt, and reached down to massage the tingling flesh.
The dome of his engorged belly was as hard as rock. The beginnings of abdominal definition he had been so pleased with before the dream was still evident to the touch, beneath the skin. He felt around to his sides. Squishy - normal. The firmness was confined to the protrusion, about the size of a small cantaloupe, but as hard as a bowling ball. He looked down at his hands resting on the warm rise, and smiled.
His hands explored his exposed genitals. They felt strangely different from his intimate memory, or was it that it didn't feel like he was touching his own. His balls were noticeably heavy and the cock - while it looked the same, felt like it should just after he came. He had a vague feeling he couldn't maintain an erection if he wanted, but he was pleased by its half-inflated look and was not in the least concerned. With a slight tug at his weighty balls, he reached down further to explore the tingling flesh of his ass-crack and hole.
Again, he was not surprised to find the area did not feel like it was his own. His fingers delighted as they played with the fleshy mound around his anus. He prodded the spongy flesh and sensed it swell back as he released his touch. An inquisitive finger felt around the rim of his relaxed hole, and entered it. A shudder of warmth and delight coursed up the arteries from his groin to his heart and dispersed through his whole body. With both hands around his backside he pulled his bare shoulders off the road and craned his neck forward in a sit-up. Two fingers from each hand entered the warm, dry hole, the fine blond hairs just on its perimeter standing in arousal. David's vision was obscured by his own stomach, as he pulled on his own flesh, and felt the cooling evening air stir in the dark cavity between his legs. The sensation was like that of causing someone else pleasure - extremely pleasurable in itself, but from an emotive place, not a series of nervous sensations.
Dazed, and not yet fully awake, David slowly got to his feet and brushed some of the grit of his back and buttocks. A car approached from behind him, its distant rumbles at least a mile away. He turned as in a dream to see the Chevy full of young boys was much closer than he had sensed. Ordinarily, (as if the scenario now playing before him could happen on an ordinary day), he would have scrambled off the road, equally for safety as for the shame of his nakedness, but David didn't feel the need to run. He sauntered casually out of the path of the oncoming vehicle, it's headlights barely necessary in the golden evening glow, and down the slight bank into the low scrub.
"Whoa!! Whee!" hooned a voice from a head poked through the window. The car span-out into a full turn, and skidded into the dust.
David was not far from the road, and turned to see the carload of his classmates spill out on the gravel. The seriousness of his situation was slowly beginning to dawn on him, and he turned and ran away from the road.
"What the fuck was that!?" A voice he recognized as Abe Murphy's hooted. Abe was the toughest kid at the school, there weren't that many, and he had everything. The car, the girls, the parties, the friends. David hadn't been to school since the incident, but had never had any liking for Abe - and vice versa.
"Over there!" yelled another.
The light was still bright enough that David's naked skin was clearly visible as he sprang across the scrubby plain.
A scuffle of trainers on the gravel told David he was about to be mobbed - if he were not fast - or clever. The light was fading fast, and seeing no cover other than the low scrub, David dived to the dust and continued on, on all fours.
He paused to catch his breath, and found the low voices of the nearby boys still perfectly audible.
"What the fuck was it?" hushed one voice.
"It was a person - a man - naked."
"Out here? Maybe there was two. Maybe we interrupted something."
"It was a guy."
"A pervert wanking - I saw it!" The voices of the group were increasing in fervor.
"Come out Pig Fucker!!!" yelled Abe Murphy. "Piiiiig Fucker. I've got my piiiig fucker stick." He started to beat the bushes with a rough and thick dead branch.
David cowered in the bushes looking only at the ground. His only hope was the fading light. He heard the cars engine turn over, and watched as the dark shapes behind each bush lengthened as the headlights scanned the field coming slowly toward him. He felt the shadow tendrils of the gang of boys reach toward him and recede as the headlights swept overhead, and the light came to a rest just behind his ankles.
The thwacking of the scrubby bushes was approaching, and David looked back to see his ankles clearly lit - glowing as the light finally faded completely from the sky.
"Ho HO!!!" came an ugly voice "I found the fucker!"
David rose like a sprinter on the blocks, and bolted away from the light. He ran about 50 yards before turning to see three of the boys clearly caught in the headlights, hopping through a thick patch of scrub. He could make out every detail of their faces and recognized each one. Two were his cousins, and one was a boy who was down at the pond on the day of his abduction. In the foreground, the large dark shapes came lunging at him, from imperceptible distances. He ducked as one dark shape enveloped his field of vision - no contact! He rose and sprinted forward, toward the car, knowing the boys behind him would be unable to see him against the glare of the lights.
After a few paces he turned away from the road and bounded into the blackness. His bare feet deftly picked a path through the scrub, and he hopped quickly from one patch to the -
WHAM!
An outstretched ankle brought him face down in the dust. He just had time to place his arms protectively over his belly, as his cheek contacted hard against the earth. A hand slapped in a clasp over his mouth, and an elbow was turned in a half nelson behind him.
"SHHHHH!" hissed the voice of his captor. "Wait!"
His assailant looked around for the other boys, but he did not call out to them.
"I know who you are, Dave. So just shoosh. I'm gonna take my hand away from your mouth - and if you yell, you little pussy, I'll get Abe and the boys over here so fast!" the clasp released. "There Dave, it's ok."
David strained to get a look at the boy, and realized in shock it was the boy from the pond. The boy was older than he was in a higher grade with Abe- but was a regular down at the pond, and David had often found himself looking at this boy with admiration and adoration. From his grin - the boy seemed to know it too.
"Yeh - I know you... you're the little pregnant fucker - the weirdo from the National Enquirer! I've seen you lookin' at me down at Larsens'. Don't think I don't notice. You must want me baaaaad!" The half nelson had eased, but now it came back to its full stretch. David winced.
"Was that a yes? I think it was. Well this is your lucky day, 'cos I'm gonna let you go. Right after I fuck your little ass!"
His zipper was already down, and David listened as the boy spat onto his palm and rubbed it onto his cock. The boy shuffled forward in the dust - unwilling to give away their location either. David felt the friction as his dick pressed between his cheeks and aimed at his hole. A tear trickled down his cheek. So much was flashing through his mind. He was uprooted from his home and family and cast out alone. He was bearing the child of an alien he was slowly beginning to realize he did not even trust. What if the child hurt him? What if it killed him to give birth? Now he could face a bashing by a gang of boys, or suffer the indignity of forced penetration by the subject of so many assisted and unassisted wet dreams.
Just then, a wetness trickled down David's thigh. He became worried at the sensation.
"Shit" hissed the voice on his back "look what you've made me go and do. SHIT" His voice must have roused the attention of a couple of the other searchers.
"Over here!" yelled a not too distant voice, "Over here!"
"Nope!" yelled David's assailant. In a scuffle of dust and hitched jeans, he was huddled over and facing away from the light, stuffing a dripping boner back into his zipper. "Nope, just me, I tripped over this damn log!"
And with that, he kicked David hard in the back.
"Come on then - it's getting cold! Let the fucker freeze!"
The group of boys headed back to the lights, and got into the old car. David looked up at his lucky stars, as the car careened back onto the highway and disappeared. A flicker of a smile crossed his face as he remembered the brags and taunts he had overheard from the boy at the pond, and now he knew all about his prowess in the sack.
He sank back into the scrub and covered himself with his arms. The warmth growing from his belly spread a soothing calm over his whole body. He caressed his belly, and dismissed his fears of the alien child.
Unable and unwilling to consider his immediate fate, he listened to the voice in his head. He closed his eyes, and went to sleep under the full night sky.
(to be continued)