Alien Experiments 01 - Uncanny Slit

A wave of water came rushing out of the pod, colored a deep blue and sweeping across the floor. It washed around the foot of the table and the surrounding pods and slipped across the edges of the shadow. I watched the open pod, waiting to see what sort of woman needed to be suspended in water like that and what it meant for me. As much as I'd been trying to ignore it, I had to acknowledge that phrase once again.

Eagerly. Willing. Reluctantly. Involuntarily.

But still nothing came out of the pod. The fog exiting from the chamber slowed down and I could see some of its contours within; I could not see anyone standing within its bounds, however. My thoughts began to turn to user error, a false input, a sensor defect, something mundane; or, perhaps, something more dynamic, an escape of some sort with this water on the floor being the only evidence left behind of some nonsensical prison break.

Then I felt a drip of water against my right cheek. I automatically reached up to touch my face but my arm was immediately arrested. I grimaced in frustration and turned to try and see where the water that had struck me had come from.

As soon as I turned, two more drops hit me, one landing in each eye. I grunted with discomfort at the slight sting as the water struck me and squeezed my eyelids shut. The sting passed quickly, and I slowly opened my eyes again to figure out what was going on.

What was going on was that a thin tendril made of water was floating over my face, shifting around overhead as though considering what its next step was going to be with peculiarly solid me. It stretched up from around the edge of the bed, rising up from the vast puddle on the floor.

"Uh, hey, guys? What is this about now?" I called into the air.

The only answer I received was from the tendril itself, snapping forward and dividing to stretch into each of my nostrils. It stung so that my eyes started watering immediately, and as the tears streamed down my face I could feel the tendril suck the tears from my cheek. I could feel it shudder inside my nose, and I immediately interpreted this as excitement as the tendrils shifted around inside my nasal cavity.

A sudden, spiking headache shot through my skull and I finally screamed at this invasion.

I wasn't sure how long this lasted, the pain excruciating beyond being able to count seconds. It surely felt like far longer than it actually was, and I might have blacked out a few more times as the pain probed deeper.

Finally, the tendril drained from me, feeling like the worst runny nose I'd ever experienced. I gasped with relief, continue to breathe through my mouth because of the irritation that was slowly but steadily fading from my nostrils.

With a cough I turned to look toward where the water had dripped off the side of the bed, trying to see if there was any better indication of where the tendril had even come from.

As I watched, the answer become clear: The water on the floor was gathering up, looking at first like a thick meniscus, then rising higher and higher, a filled bubble with white currents flowing through it as it gathered its mass from the surrounding surface. It continued rising, hitting the height of the table and continuing to grow until a column of water almost six feet tall towered above me.

Then a wave seemed to pass up the entire column, the top seeming to splash and bubble even higher as the surface rippled into more distinct shapes. Bubbles and whirls of water began to coalesce, and suddenly, unexpectedly, I could see the distinct shape of a woman form in the water, those interior irregularities rising to the surface to form facial features, swirling hair, even nipples and a very clear dip where it seemed smooth, female genitals were hiding beneath the crest of a persistent wave....

"Oh," was all I could say, watching in shock at this female form made entirely of water. And water though it clearly was, it was also clear that there was sentience in the fluid that had mimicked a slim, busty woman with wide hips that blended directly into a column of water rising from the much smaller, shallower puddle below.

Unsurprisingly, I could feel a stirring between my legs, and I wasn't the only one that noticed it. The Wet Woman turned her "eyes" downward, a keen interest in something that had become soft and squishy during her painful invasion of my nose suddenly becoming hard again at the sight of her shapely form. She slid down the length of the bed and leaned closer to my slowly growing erection. I could feel the sort of damp heat I associated with hot tubs radiating from her surface as her face came close to my hip to watch the process with a good approximation of human curiosity molded onto the watery face.

When her hand came to rest on my thigh, it felt at first like a hot, lubed water balloon pressed against my skin, but quickly there were movements that felt unmistakably alive, almost like muscles but not exactly the same. It wasn't skin, but it was close enough, and what was different was different in tantalizing ways as the Wet Woman leaned in closer to my growing erection, the heat from her face growing hotter as her lips stopped just inches from me.

I grew toward that heat, bit by bit, veins bulging and working until finally my tip brushed against the curve of her lips. It was like dipping into a warm pool, a hot bath, only more satisfying, an extra pressure there that gently squeezed my tip even as I felt warm water running down between my thighs.

The warmth and pressure spread downward, slipping along my shaft until those full lips were pressing against my balls. It didn't feel like a mouth inside; it was a swirl of heat, moisture, and gentle pressure without any frank limit, no throat to strike back against, nothing to stop my insertion. And unlike a mouth, it kept going, spreading around until my balls were sucked inside her as well, letting me feel the waves of movement within her from the tip of my cock to the base of my balls.

Once again, I found myself straining at my bonds, curious to touch that blue "skin" shifting and flowing above me, glistening in the bright lights overhead, some of which I could faintly see through her body. The restraints, despite the compliance I was trying to project, wouldn't budge.

But that was fine. Her attention offered me plenty even without being able to place my hands on her - or, I thought more likely, in her, pushing through that meniscus of fluid skin she wore and feeling whatever of her was alive within.

I bit my lip, muscles tensing as the Wet Woman's work brought me closer, no matter how recently - a timeline I was still assuming to be real - I had gotten off with Blue-Eyes. She seemed to feel that excitement, as I felt water beginning flowing onto the table around my legs, pooling higher than it should have been able to until there was an undulating mass of water covering my lower body, shifting and growing higher until I realized the Wet Woman's mouth had shifted, now atop the column and reforming until the Wet Woman was unexpectedly straddling me, body shifting back and forth on my hips, squeezing in new ways, rubbing me from within her as hips, a waist, large breasts, a softened approximation of a face, and arms raised up in an incomplete mock-up of arms lifted overhead and melding into a bubbling, swirling, watery mass of "hair" that floated above me like a cloud threatening to storm.

When the bonds unlocked without warning, I immediately pushed myself up into a sitting position, hands going to those perfectly-formed breasts, racing my lips to meet those pouty-looking ones on that not-quite-right face, so close to the edge and ready to dive in all the way.

I didn't realize how literal that "dive" would be made until I was already inside of her, hands, face, and all of me pushing through that thin outer layer and suddenly sinking into her depths. My first instinct was to swim, to paddle my way to freedom, but there was no escape when the pool through which I swam shifted along with me.

What I didn't notice at first, not until I had realized how doomed my struggle against her had become, was that even having entered bodily into the crashing wave of the Wet Woman she had not stopped doing... whatever it was she was doing to my cock. There was no visible form anymore, nothing that could be identified as a woman or even as a biological creature, yet still I could see the water swirling around me, a whirlpool slipping up and down my erection, cascades running against my balls, currents brushing every sensitive bit of me, my whole body enveloped in her invisible being.

Still instinctively reaching for some sort of surface, I couldn't help but marvel at the odd array of sensations this peculiar lifeform was able to provide. As my body tensed, as the pleasure was forced quite wittingly on me, I had the insight to consider that there were worse ways to die than what I was experiencing in the Wet Woman's total embrace.

I looked down into the bright blue world surrounding me, and through the blurred swirl of water wrapped around my shaft I watched my cum erupt and curl through her tempest, bursts of it dissolving into her, white explosions to muddy her clear blue sea. I watched it dissipate, lost in the hazy body of water engulfing me.

My body shuddered, unbridled, deathly satisfaction sending shivers through my body as the last drops tumbled out into her waters, my orgasm bidding me a fond farewell as the last bit of oxygen circulated out of my brain and darkness once again took over.

PHASE THREE

"Oh goddamnit," I said, jerking awake again, and finding myself once more bound to the same familiar table. I was dry, but there was a thick taste of saltwater in my mouth, and I spit on the floor once quick before looking randomly into the shadows and shouting, "After all this do you really think you have to worry about me trying to escape!?"

I looked around for someone to complain to, but I was alone again. And another pod had disappeared, five left standing around me.

Still plenty of fun to be had, I thought, settling back onto the table. Hands would be helpful, but so far unnecessary.

I was pointedly and successfully still ignoring the implications of the experiment's description.

Eagerly. Willing. Reluctantly. Involuntarily.

"Have you not enjoyed yourself so far?" the Voice from the darkness asked.

"What do your fucking instruments say?" I said, closing my eyes to block out those blinding overhead lights briefly.

"They say you are enjoying yourself immensely. So why do you take issue with our methods?"

"Guess I'm more of a hands-on kind of guy," I sighed, wondering if the phrase would even make sense to the Voice overhead, a voice that thought "Uncanny Slit" was a reasonable English term.

"And we are amenable to that nature," the Voice replied. "But we are all too familiar with the divergent animal instincts to pursue both pleasure and freedom. Until we are sure of the balance we desire - and be assured, we can be sure - we will maintain control of your arms and legs."

"Fine. Fine." I looked down and noticed yet again that, despite what seemed to be a massive ejaculation only moments earlier, I was rock-hard and ready to go. I wondered briefly what happened to me between my waking episodes. Were they performing tests, administering medications, cleaning me, monitoring me, keeping me in a coma until they were ready for another round of experimentation? Was my unceasing erection a byproduct of the uniquely arousing experiences I was having, was I being given some aphrodisiac directly, or was there something in the air that kept me raring for the next pod to open up and give me a new type of sex partner as soon as the previous one had finished me.

"Fine. Whatever, just keep it going," I said and rested my head back again, proud of myself for having gotten so comfortable and focused in what should have been a mind-numbing, soul-shocking experience. No reason not to turn this unbelievable experience to my benefit.

Once again there seemed to be a strange sound from the Voice, something not quite heard but understood to have existed, and I began to wonder how directly the Voice could pull directly from my thoughts. And, if it could, what did its seemingly smug reaction to my cocky self-assurance mean...?

There was no time to consider that for long; the third pod was opening.

I languorously opened my eyes and look toward the newly-opened chamber, eager to see what new delights were about to bestowed upon me, unable to even imagine the types of pleasure I was about to experience.

Then the tentacles began to grip the lower edges of the glowing doorway.

There were a series of shorter, thinner tentacles gripping either side up high, and a single large tentacle slipping gingerly out onto the floor, all of them brown on top and dark gray on the bottom parts that were gripping the surrounding surfaces, with a thin, wet sheen coating their every inch.

For a moment I considered screaming. Who knew what sort of nightmarish form might follow those initial offerings? For a moment, I understood the nature of the experiment, though for the life of me not the reasoning behind it.

I was to be tested. The male will - my will - to procreate, to release those hormones that drove so much of our species, the limits of that will was being tested and it was not all going to be a Trekkian parade of women in different colored body paint with a few facial prosthetics. Aliens were real, and I was to be exposed to the gamut of those forms in an apparent test to see what sort of sexual reaction an even remotely compatible biological form could arouse in me.

Before I could get anxious enough for my erection to waver, however, the body which went with those tentacles floated out from behind the glowing fog and the blinders immediately settled over all my senses of logic.

Perhaps the Universe was a Trekkian place filled with humanoid sex goddesses waiting to be shown the iron will of the human libido, because riding those tentacles out onto the floor was a body worthy of the movies: there were large breasts with dark hardened nipples, seductive hips, pouty lips on a very human face, and the bare furrow leading down to what looked very convincingly like a bare human pussy to reassure me that Roddenberry and his brethren were providing me this satisfactory parade of lifeforms.

Of course, there were plenty of features to remind me this was not a human woman. The three thick tentacles she walked on were the most obvious, but right behind them were the two narrower tentacles stretching out from her lower back, and the much smaller ones sprouting from her head waving like a Medusa haircut without the fangs. Then of course were the "hands," themselves made up of six long, narrow tentacles which, if I squinted, I could almost believe were very graceful fingers if not for the unnatural movements they were performing at the end of her arms.

I was anxious watching this new alien figure turn her gaze one me, nervous at the very sight of those fleshy appendages scattered across her body. Still, compared to the horrors I was imagining when those first tentacles reached out from the chamber, what stood beside the table looking down at me was an absolute relief, and my cock recognized it as such, staying firm in its conviction to participate in this diverse series of experiments.

A slight hum escaped her lips, and before I could get more nervous over the prospect of what other secrets her anatomy might hide she had reached out with one of her "hands," six slim tentacles unweaving and each wrapping multiple loops around my cock. The flesh was slick, slippery, and smooth as she gave gentle, probing squeezes at what I assumed she must consider to be my one and only tentacle. I was all too happy for her to explore that that commonality as she began to slide her gripping tendrils up and down my shaft.

She emitted another, deeper hum, and reached up with her second hand, engulfing every inch of me in a dozen writhing, sliding, squeezing, self-lubricating appendages, a swirl of sensations racing across my most sensitive skin as she explored my anatomy.

This exploration soon strayed lower, two tentacles slithering down and slipping across my balls, rubbing them, gently squeezing them, gracefully gathering them up and rubbing them together before tugging at them cautiously.

In less than a minute this was already shaping up to be the best handjob I'd ever gotten, and she was only getting started. More to the point, I was only just beginning to understand what this newest species had to offer me.

After a couple of minutes of this massage, a couple of minutes that nearly ended up being the entirety of the experiment a few times as her skilled appendages picked up speed, the tendrilled woman licked her lips, and I saw with no small amount of excitement that she appeared to have two tongues as well.

Slithering around my cock in a smooth, whirling dervish, those tendrils deftly parted on the distal third of my length to expose my hard, glistening tip. I looked up toward the almost-human face hopefully, eyes on her full lips, curious to see that tongue again, eager to feel that tongue for the first time.

The small tentacles on my shaft slithered lower, another pair of them slipping around my balls and massaging them as the brown-skinned woman lowered her head toward my lap, lips parting, planting a gentle kiss on my tip and then holding her mouth there as her lips parted slightly and freed that bifid tongue onto my skin.

Her tongues were every bit as dexterous as her fingers, differentiable from her digits primarily by the degree of wetness they dripped onto my skin. They wrapped themselves neatly around me, doubled over my girth and held on comfortably tight as she pushed her tongues down my length. My tip emerged behind her lips and I gasped to discover the sensation of countless smaller tendrils rubbing at my head in the warm secret recesses of her mouth. The sensations were shockingly strong, practically a new type of stimulation for every inch of the erection I was straining to keep control over as I plunged ever deeper into her throat.

The Tendril Woman slowly lifted her mouth off of me, tongues popping off my swollen head as she stood up straight. It pained me to realize that all those sensations, my rapid near-eruption, had occurred with a single bob of her head on my lap; that single head bob had been more stimulating than the entirety of my sex life before it, discounting perhaps my intimate moments with Blue-Eyes.

I opened my mouth, ostensibly to beg "Do it again," when I felt one of the tendrils around my balls slip lower, sliding along the sensitive space behind my tensed sack and tickling the edge of my tensed opening, rubbing the rim gently even as the other six small tentacles continued to simultaneously jerk me off and try to milk the cum from my stones.

If she had put her mouth on me right in that moment, my time with her would have been over. I would have burst immediately into her mouth and I would have been satisfied.

But that was not what she had planned.

Tendrils slowly slipping away from me, leaving me tense, twitching, and erect, she leaned over the edge of the table. One of the three large tentacles on which she walked lifted over the edge of the table and landed on the far side of my hip, tensing and lifting her bodily over top of me. All three of her tentacle feet were planted around me, one by either hip and one between my legs as she towered over me.