Arcturus Syndrome Ch. 03

"I know some weird shit is happening in this town."

She walked up to him. Carl realized he could smell her arousal. She smelled like sex.

She put a hand on his arm. Where her fingers touched him, he felt a jolt of electric excitement.

"I killed three people today," she said, looking straight into his eyes. "I didn't want to do it again."

"Uh..."

"The first was my father. Then I did the neighbor and his wife."

"Uh..."

Her eyes had a strange quality to them. Carl found he was having a hard time thinking.

"So you could say I've seen some weird shit. You could say that." Her hand stroked his arm. She tilted her head to look at him with a mild curiosity.

"Shall I kill you too?" she asked. "You might enjoy it."

"Uh... you're... kind of..."

"Go into the office, just to the left in there. Undress. Sit on the chair. In a minute, I'll come in. If you're there, I'll give you what you want, and we'll see what happens."

Carl felt dazed. He saw himself walking into the dark interior of the market as if his body belonged to someone else. He found the office. It was a confusion of post-it notes on whiteboards, tracking various deliveries. Stacks of invoices and delivery manifests. Carl pulled out the office chair, and got undressed.

Why am I doing this? What's going on? What. The. Fuck. Is Going On?

He sat on the chair, his cock pulsing, twitching, throbbing. Was it bigger than before? Had he grown? Men don't grow down there, not in their thirties. Carl had wasted money on some pills to prove the point.

Then she walked in. She had her shirt off. Very ample cleavage barely held in place by a straining bra, cutting into her flesh.

"You see?" she said. "It appears that you are affected after all. I don't know how you survived this long. Just about nobody else has. Maybe it's just you and me. The last man and woman on earth."

"Uh..."

She unsnapped the bra and her breasts bounced out. Carl found his mouth watering. He was thirsty.

She knelt down before him, and pushed his knees apart. She grabbed his cock and unceremoniously popped the head into her mouth. Carl groaned. Intense pleasure flooded his system. Everything part of him felt intensely alive.

She looked up at him. "You taste good. Nice and salty!"

He reached for her head, but she stopped him, grabbing his wrists.

"Oh no, you don't get to be in charge," she said, and stood. She wriggled out of her yoga pants. She was smooth and hairless there, recently waxed or shaved. She was glistening with arousal. She straddled him, and the chair. He felt the press of her slippery-smooth lips along the edge of his throbbing cock. He moaned more loudly.

She began to grind against him, and pressed her breasts to his face. Carl eagerly took a nipple between his lips.

The sensations of her body against him drove thoughts further and further from his mind. He became an animal, bucking against her, trying to get his cock in her. But she rode him skillfully, laughing and moaning, sometimes at the same time. He lost himself in the feel of her smooth belly on him, her breasts pressed to his face.

When she finally relented and slipped him into her, he almost blacked out with the intensity of the sensation. Her pussy seemed to grip him, to milk him. She continued to ride him, but very slowly, drawing each sensation to it's highest peak, lifting her hips so that the head of his cock was pressed to her slippery outer lips, and then popping the head in, and easing herself down to the root. The experience of that drew deep, gutteral groans from Carl. He felt something powerful when her pussy gripped the thick base of his cock, fluttering around him, and her cervix bumped at the head of his cock. He felt an unwinding of something deep inside him.

She gracefully rocked herself against him, lifting her breasts to his face, swirling her hips over him, at depth, and then spiralling up so he could feel the air on his cock, her hot juices cooling at the breath of that air, and then the plunge of her intense heat around him, and the pleasure building.

At one moment she paused, with his cock completely buried in her. In that stillness she looked him in the eye.

"You can't talk now, can you? You just do exactly what I tell you. It's too bad it doesn't last. It's too bad you won't last. I could really get used to this."

Then she continued riding him.

Carl felt her shudder through a climax, her breath coming in quick gasps, but she kept moving around him, undulating her body, slurping his cock into her, and lifting, shifting, grunting.

He wanted this sensation to last forever, but with one of her climaxes, he felt his own orgasm spark. She sensed it too.

"Here we go," she said. "Look me in the eyes, you."

She held his gaze as she rode him harder and faster, building both of them to the peak.

A couple of times he thought he was going to explode, and she somehow stuttered her motions drawing it out, and building him even higher, all while she held eye contact, her big blue eyes seeming to swirl into giant pools. She mashed her breasts to his chest as she pressed harder, more intense, more quickly plunging herself down onto him.

And then he let out a howling cry.

"Time to die," she told him, a little sadly, even as her own orgasm overtook her.

Carl exploded, jet after jet into her pussy. He didn't think he had ever cum so much, and certainly never so intensely.

She leaned against him, relaxing.

Carl felt his thirst spike. They were both slippery with sweat, everything dripping. It seemed to dry quickly, hardening into traces of salt on their skin.

"I need something to drink," he said.

"Holy crap!" she answered, twitching up. "You're alive."

"Why wouldn't I be? You are one weird chick."

She stood up. His heavy, softening cock slipped out of her and fell against his thigh with a wet slap.

She ripped open a case of bottled water and tossed him one.

"Nah," he said. "Water doesn't do it for me."

"Suit yourself."

She popped the flip-cap on her own bottle and chugged it down.

She looked at him with a surprised expression. "Christ, my head," were her last words.

She fell to the vinyl tiling, suddenly twitching and convulsing. In a moment she fell still. The salt on her skin began thickening, building, growing.

Carl grabbed his clothes and backed out of the office. There was salt growing on his skin also, and he felt the thirst parching him. Still naked, he ran into the public part of the market, making for the energy drinks. He grabbed the first thing he found, a luminous orange Gatorade. Taking a second one, he ran up the aisle for the doritos.

Ten minutes later, bloated from drinking four bottles and a bag and a half of chips, Carl scraped the salt off his skin and put his clothes back on.

He spent the next twenty minutes replacing the healthy staples she had been stuffing into her car with crates of energy drinks and bag-upon-bag of junk food. The saltier the better. He took the keys out of her purse, and placed the purse in the office. Her body had grown strange, sharp tendrils of crystal, some glittering with hints of green and pink.

"Guess I'm a killer after all, lady," he said to her corpse.

Turning on her car, Carl and took the first road out of town.