Boarding the Starflake Ch. 06

Until the Gob came in, everything had been going pretty well where taking advantage of Brooke had been concerned. She'd just told Morgo that she'd be up for anything so long as it helped her acting, and he'd had a sudden idea.

"Tell you what, then. Let's rehearse the scene in the laboratory."

"You mean the one where I'm on the exam table?" Brooke enthused. Then, without his even having to say, she wheeled on her hips and prostrated herself on the sofa, unfolding like an accordion, knees over one arm, back of her neck on the other. She laid her hands at her sides, assuming the posture she'd had during the dress rehearsal, when she'd been in the mad monster's lair.

"That's right!" Morgo was getting comfortable in his schoolmarm voice now. "Now we're going to examine your lung power, Brooke, and remember, you're tied down so you can't move."

"I know, Ms. Evars."

As though undoing the bow on his favoritest ever Christmas present, Morgo got Brooke's delicate shoulder-straps by thumb and forefinger, and slowly, relishingly, pulled them over her bony delts and down the lengths of her forearms, meanwhile ogling her spritely chest with a villainous lick of the lips. The inside hem of her negligee broke over the crest of her shapely boobs, and her bronze nipples sproinged out. Another tug and her garment slid off the bottom swells of her briskets and they jiggled milkily, bared.

"Oh, my gosh!" Brooke squeaked. She shivered. "It's chilly! You didn't say you wanted to take my nightie off!"

"If I'm supposed to coach you, we'll have to get close, my dear." Morgo went to his knees and gently anchored his palm flat on the front of Brooke's right rack of ribs. He was rubbing himself through his costume again. With an eager swallow, he spied Brooke's bobbing teat and plunged his saliva-gill on it.

Another gasp from a befuddled, hypnotized Brooke.

Feeling her fleshy button flick into his mouth, he protruded the alien proboscis of his maw and closed his inner set of grey lips around the soft spongy flesh of Brooke's nippleflat. The tips of his tongue-pair made opposite orbits around her areolae.

A moment passed in this activity.

Morgo's stimulated loins throbbed with ache for the inside of Brooke's soft flesh. Brooke Bethany. He tongued her nubile, sucked up, naked coconut and taught her what it felt like to receive oral attention from a creature with a pair of mouths, one inside the other, one up and down where the outer was horizontal.

This lesson seemed to confuse her at first—it would be odd for her to process the sensations that would be playing over her goosy titskin if she hadn't learned about Trog anatomy yet in school—but pretty soon she relaxed. He liked that once he'd stripped her, he'd sucked her slick knockers instead of running his paws on them. It had confused her further. And the breast he was mouthing, unfondled, bobbed in the free, udderlike, dangling with a pert juggle from his masticating mandible.

That had tripped his switch and he'd spent a long time sucking Brooke's perky bags all over, running his hungry fingers all over them, double-tonguing her. The works. Brooke had that full, upright rack Morgo really liked in a Earth girl like her. Mmm, he'd slobbered 'em up. He'd even fixed one of his finger-tip suckers on the underside of Brooke's quivering boob and sucked her skin into his finger a bit. She'd gotten a start and a rosy, blousebutton-sized hickey from that one.

And then he'd gone down on her. If sucking her tits had clanged him upside the head, lipping and slurping her pink oyster had driven him clinically mad. She'd sleepily asked him about it at one point, but he'd just told her he was testing her urine for drugs.

"What?" she'd said, head-lifting. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Just trust me," he'd mumbled, chinks in his womanish accent, "I'm going to need to gulp you down clitty to taint. It's the only way to improve your acting."

"Oh," she'd cooed, in a voice that she was using a lot lately. "If it helps my acting, then that's okay, then."

***

It was around then that that fucking Gob had burst in the room talking some bullshit about sparks and foreheads and whatever, and totally thrown him off his groove. Thankfully, though, he'd finally left and Morgo was once more alone with impressionable Brooke. He'd slipped her panties down to her ankle, lined her up with the edge of the sofa, and was about to serve her up something she'd never forget. Well, depending how her Dub-LM was set, anyway.

"I don't know," Brooke cooed. "What is the best way to search my Yoni?"

"Hang on. I'll show you."

Eyes riveted on Brooke's pubis and delectable chickslit, Morgo got hold of her by one hip to steady her curvaceous pelvis, gripped his filthy root with his other hand, and, with urgent deliberation, drove his own lower torso forward to plunge into her snug sex canal with a heart-stopping tingle of salacious pleasure. Her wet flesh stretched to receive his knobby, greasy member, especially at her aperture, where her flowery vulva gave to the gripping sleeve of her slick cervix. He ground her, entering her to his full length. Her bottom, resting on the sofa arm, squeezed the fronts of his gnarled upper front legs. The backs of her thighs warmed his craggly belly. Her thicket mingled with the crusty hair atop his buried loins.

He felt a pinprick of dryness at the tip of his throbbing schlong at the innermost part of passive Brooke, but aside from that, she gripped him with her firm, juicy sugarwalls, her cunt trembling with consent. The wash of pleasure that immediately spread over him set him into an instant, drooling trance of lust. The way he was dribbling horny precome into her, he'd have even her narrow depths lubed in no time.

Having plumbed his course in Brooke's tender vagina, he started in-and-outing her steadily now, already worried that he might lose it and come too fast. He was used to apple-pie pussy, given the villainous profession he was in, but this girl was something else.

"This is how you . . . you search," Brooke rambled, as she began passively rocking on her shoulders, her suckled, sticky jugs waving tidally with Morgo's fuck, "search my Yoni?" She barely managed to stammer out this last word before she started sparking and smoking again.

Rather than vacillate in and out of her soporific state, this time she got stuck there. Morgo dimly noticed this, that suddenly Brooke might as well have been a warm sex doll rather than a nude, opened college chick, however dizzy. He'd been carried off into the bliss streaming from his slimy, thrusting penis and hadn't even noticed when a rivulet of green drool trickled out of his slack, groaning mouth and landed with a splat on Brooke's bare stomach. So of course he barely registered that her face was blank. It certainly didn't stop him, and as he humped her unabated, her body rocked on the sofa like a sexy crash-test dummy. In fact, a slippery panic buttered over him as he felt his clickening, pulsing rod already surging dangerously close to the crest of spilling his joy juice in her. He was at a loss to control it. Her luscious twat, bobbing thighs, creamy waist, and voluminous chest beckoned him, dared him to find a way not to toss his tadpoles.

He'd just started fucking her; this would never do.

Just as his vision went spotty and he felt he was going to spray, the door flew open and the Gob ran back in, carrying that goddamn fucking Dub unit and a hairdryer. It immediately distracted Morgo and snatched him from the brink, which relieved him and pissed him off at the same time.

"Look!" Fuckface cried, meaning look at Brooke's sparking, smoking forehead.

A guttural, attenuated grunt emerged from the rutting Morgo that resolved itself into barrel-chested words, but could as easily have become a shrieking rage.

"Beat it, Gob."

"But look at her. She's totally out of it."

"Beat it."

Distracted despite himself, Morgo turned to follow Fuckface without missing a stroke. The Gobrin lay the Dub on the dining table and started blow drying it.

"I'll just set this on 'cold' and you go ahead and do what you were doing."

Morgo sneered, but turned his focus back to Brooke. The receptive girl's left calf had tumbled from Morgo's horny shoulder, a result of the oceanic motion overtaking the two of them. It now dangled off the crux of his elbow, waving wildly as he fucked her, and as a result her purple pump had slipped from her heel and now hung from her toes, which she'd instinctively backward-curled to keep it from falling off.

Morgo really lost himself gazing at the tabula rasa of Brooke's washed-out face. So well made up in her lip gloss and blush—or were those really her cheeks? Naturally plum with embarrassment at her naked violation, even in her well-past-mesmerized state? The mascara and the coiffed hair and her silk-string silver earrings that clattered along in the river of their motion.

His nasty gord was heating up again as he massaged it in Brooke's twitching quim. He sucked a snoutful of snot with a snort into his mouth and drew it to spit it. He didn't want to come but he thought the only way he could stop himself was by making her otherwise wet.

He leant on her.

"Hey!" she said. "Don't spit on me! What's wrong with you?"

Brooke started lazily waggling her arms and legs and wriggling her hips. Morgo had to reinforce the one wrist steadying her torso on the sofa arm with his other. Her high-heeled shoe tumbled to the carpet.

He downed his loogie.

"You're—she's back?" he asked, half to her, half to the Gob with the hairdryer.

"Her Dub overheated!" the Gob hissed, an angry dungeon master. "I just barely cooled it off in time. It's rebooting."

Morgo tried to get hold of Brooke's squirming hips but they wrangled over the sofa arm he'd squared her bottom on. His knob was pumped but he couldn't get a decent angle on Brooke's fucksleeve. It kept slicking around, like a snake turned inside out.

"She's gettin' all wriggly."

"Well, until the Dub unit boots, her behavior could be unpredictable. It was the Dub controlling her all along, after all."

"Naughty?" Brooke screwed up her eyes in thought and shifted her hips. "Sticking the part of me that makes me a girl?"

Since she was starting to settle down again, Morgo centered his slimy prick on her delicate clam and started using her tight hole to work himself off again. In only a moment he'd gotten back to the level of perverted stimulation he'd reached before the Gob'd come back into the room.

"You are," Brooke realized. "You're sticking something in me. Is that your porker?"

"Don't be silly, Selena," Morgo murmured, totally forgetting to adopt his dowdy female voice. "I'm Ms. Evars. I'm an old woman." He pushed all the way in her and worked his knobby ass to dig his twitching prick in Brooke's soupy flesh. He throbbed and felt another glop of Troggy precome squirt out in her. "Old women don't have porkers."

"Oh, my God!" she squealed. "You're not Ms. Evars at all! You're that monster they dressed up like a different monster!"

Well, the gig was up.

It wasn't like she'd be able to get Morgo to stop any more than Fuckface had. As his pent-up balls geared up for the big push, he manhandled Brooke's twiggy calf to bring her high-heeled foot, and the violet panties knotted around her ankle, to his face. The musky smell of her succulent vagina peppered his snout, along with a faint odor of mildly pungent toes.

"Well," Brooke sighed, bargaining with herself, "I guess if I practice letting you do experiments on me, it'll help my acting." She swallowed her own saliva.

The feeling of the Trog cock skewering her pie seemed to finally be sinking into her. It wasn't big so much as crooked, knobby, rough, scaly in places, grimy, and soaked—along with generous dollops of his own greasy precome and Brooke's tastier nectars—in Morgo's monstrous secretions and stinking pheromones.

He stepped up his pace, feeling the telltale tingle in the backs of his lower legs that meant he was about to blow. "When I was wrasslin' your purty friend Natalie, her ass was so hot and sweet it made me cream my pants."

"Really? Oh gosh, ew. Are you some kind of pervert?"

This was it. Brooke's gently rocking, ripe body worked his root to crisis, and he clutched both Brooke Bethany's thighs, frenziedly pistoned her stretching cooze, and with a drawn-out groan that came off as an answer in the affirmative to the question she'd just asked, he fell into a cross-eyed bliss and his pulsing cock spat a huge splat of dick sewage way up Brooke's soft, snug sex canal.

"Ohhh," he enthused. "It felt like this." Another spill, even more than the first. The two stirred together in the messy stew he was brewing in Brooke's luscious twat. He held her fast.

A third wad drained out of his contracting balls and he pulled out of Brooke and started frisking his orgasming prick between her wobbly thighs, figuring her box had probably received about as much alien jizz as an Earth girl's pussy could handle. Frantically voiding, he shot streak after streak of algae-ish semen along the length of Brooke's passive body. So turned on was he that the first dozen or so squirts left a stringy trail all the way from her pubis, stomach and tits—staining the fabric of her chemise a dark gray and splatting half-a-bit green on her bare skin—all the way to her forehead.

She squinted.

"Gross!" she bitched. She motorboated her lips to blow the nasty spunk off them, but it just sprayed from her mouth and fell back down on her face in misty droplets. She shook her head. "Blugh!"

Then came a pair of thumps from the bedroom. Fuck. Morgo hurriedly fapped the last of his delivery on Brooke's little fur patch and the already-soiled arm of her sofa.

Meanwhile, Brooke got her bearings. She became fully aware bodily of the great stream of other-worldly excretum that had just soiled her from face to inner thigh and bubbled up the fertile pot of her freshman quim. She shook vigorously as a dog that had just rolled in a puddle of street water.

Morgo enjoyed watching her have the dawning realization of receiving his sputum. Notwithstanding the stinging acidity and its tendency to permanently stain, there was always the odor, which was, of course, thick with his wholesale track of seed, his acrid, lizard perspiration, his now all-over film of pheromones, his disgusting exertion.

Argon barged through the bedroom door with sacks of loot in both fists. He saw the sloppy travesty on Brooke's sofa and dropped one sack so he could hold his hand before him as a hasty shield.

"Aw, man," he choked. "That's too goddamn milky. I know we're a wet team but you gotta hold back a little bit. I mean fuckin' DNA. Evidence." He brought the defensive hand under his own crinkled snout. "God, the stench. At least shoot it in her, not all over her."

Fuckface followed after him and echoed his gesture.

"Jeez, somebody light a match!"

"Ugh, it's gonna take me an hour to wash all this off. Somehow this Trog tricked me into letting him get his jollies all over me."

"I tricked you into letting me fuck you," Morgo corrected, groggy.

"Whatever. It felt weird." Blink, blink. "So I'm gonna clean up," she beamed, unperturbed, almost playful. She clapped her hands, conjuring a frothy spray. "What are we doing next?"

***

Julie stepped back on the bridge promptly at the end of the sleep period, but she didn't feel rested. Steph, for want of any other crew, had sat in on the captain's chair the whole, quote-unquote, "night," so Julie had resolved to give her the first workshift off after updating her and getting morning assembly done.

"Ah, the bridge," said Julie, "just as I left it. Sit-rep?" She replaced Steph in the chair and took the command board from her. The nod at the viewscreen. "What's the news on our Trog pals in the derelict ship?"

"Believe it or not, it's gone. I watched it drift the whole first half of the sleep period, and it got too far out to track three or four hours ago." This was a surprise. Julie paused. "Yeah, I didn't see that coming, either," Steph went on. "Guess the Trogs were on the level after all. I thought about getting you up but I didn't think it'd be worth it."

"Huh." Julie shrugged a don't-that-beat-all. "Yeah, that was the right decision, I think. If we're not jammed, then, we better go ahead and file a report with the Uni's if we can get one up."

"You're covered. I wrote up a memo and sent it as soon as our comm went back on line."

"Well done, Steph. Exemplary. When the captain's back on board, I'm gonna mention this to him."

"Shucks. Just going by the book, you know?" A proud smile stole across Steph's face anyway. "A lackey answered, they got the message but didn't have anyone on staff qualified to address it."

"With the Gob counteroffensive going on, that's likely. They've already got a ton to deal with without having to devote headspace to our non-issues."

"The guy said they might send out a scout to try and locate the derelict, but that's probably a few days away."

"Yeah, well, unfortunately, the Uni's only have an outpost on Obiron so any scout ship would have to come out of the Third Fleet, and that's at least an hour out at full speed."

"I'm not sure I even see the point, not if the Trog convoy's going to end up picking it up." Julie slapped her own thighs. It was a new day, and she was suddenly in a good mood. "Well, that's great. Guess I owe our guests an apology."

"Yeah," Steph beamed. "Guess we might."

"And with that we move on to the next big crisis. I'm gonna need you to take the comm again in a half hour for 'morning' assembly, and then you should get some shuteye so you'll be fresh for the play rehearsal tonight."

"You got it. Tell you the truth, I've been at least as nervous about that play as I've been about the Trog ship."

With that, Julie and her trusted sidekick sat in silence, watching on the Vassar's viewscreen as a starry space that suddenly seemed much friendlier scrolled by.