Galaxy A-Go-Go

Fisher undressed too, carefully folding his clothes as he did so. There was no table so he put them neatly in a corner of the bed that he thought was unlikely to be used. Now that they were both naked they sat together on the bed. Vivianta looked at his crotch.

"Well I say! Aren't you a big species?" she said.

"Are we?" said Fisher nervously.

"Compared with a male Balaxian certainly. Even pretty impressive sat next to a Tallian, though don't tell 'em I said that. Now that I've stoked your ego appropriately, shall we get down to it?"

Fisher leaned in to kiss her. She immediately pushed him away.

"What the fuck are you doing? That's a red line. Try that again, mister, and I'm calling security."

Fisher leapt back a good three feet back on the bed, confused by the outburst. "But...but...we said tongues!"

"Yes, my tongues! Obviously! Never put your own tongue in a Balaxian girl's mouth unless you want to lose it."

"Err, okay, sorry, can we just start again?" said Fisher.

"Okay, sweetie. We'll chalk that down to nerves. What I want you to do is to close your eyes and open your mouth."

Fisher complied.

A few seconds later he felt a tongue on his. It was a little rougher than a human's, but not as much as a cat's. As it pushed its way down into his mouth, he realized it was also thinner, about the diameter of his little finger. Unlike normal French kissing which usually involved mashing slabs against each other, this organ had finesse. It was able to stroke the top of his mouth then pull back and circle round between his teeth and gums. Involuntarily he closed his mouth around it and she withdrew it with a 'pop'.

Now she ran the tongue up and down his nose, then round his eye sockets in an infinity symbol. Returning to his nose she gentle inserted it into his left nostril and probed upwards. It withdrew suddenly.

Fisher opened his eyes. Vivianta was still sitting about three feet away from her and her tongue was hastily retreating across that distance. She kept three inches of it outside her mouth and, pulling a wipe from her bag, gave it a clean.

"That was disgusting," she said. "You could have warned me."

"Sorry..." Fisher stammered as if the nose picking had been his idea.

"It's okay," she said. "A new species is always a learning experience. For both of us, I guess. Let's go again."

Both assumed a lotus position keeping the same distance as before. This time, Fisher was able to watch as the thin tongue snaked its way across the air between them. It entered his mouth and gently stroked the middle ridge of his own tongue. Then it coiled around it, encircling it three time. His tongue was now held in place securely but with no force. Suddenly his mouth was flooded with a taste.

Strawberries.

It is oft-used poetic licence to say that a beautiful human girl's lips taste like strawberries. This is usually because the poet wants to get laid. They always just taste of flesh and lipstick.

Vivianta's tongue now tasted exactly like strawberries. It hadn't a moment ago.

They sat there both unmoving for a minute. Then a new taste crept into Fisher's mouth, a strong honey flavour. This time, instead of being just a sensation on the surface of her tongue, the taste came with a liquid. Something the consistency of molasses was running into Fishers mouth. On contact with air it seemed to crystallize. A moment later and his mouth was filled with small stones the size of garden peas. It was difficult to move with Vivianta's tongue lodged firmly in his mouth, but he reached around it with his fingers and pulled one out to look out. The strange green candy evaporated almost immediately. The ones in his mouth were also dissipating now and when Vivianta removed her tongue all that was left was for him to blow out a cloud of sweet smelling green steam.

Fisher was a good student and had spend most of his university life in the library and engineering labs. Once though, after finals, he'd taken a purloined shuttle out with his buddies to a moon rave and spent the whole evening smoking Fromatan weed from a didgeridoo-sized bong and dancing to the music the antigravity plates made when turned up to full. The sensation he was getting now was as if someone had cocked him over the head with that selfsame bong.

"They say one kiss is all it takes to fall in love with a Balaxian," said Vivianta. "If that's true, what I'm about to do might be a little overkill."

The tongue came back towards his mouth again and regained its grip on his own. Suddenly, and much faster, two new tongues came darting out of her mouth. These were thicker, like heavy ropes though tapered at the end. The left tentacle, for it seemed more like that than a tongue, wrapped his body twice under his arms and then it circled round and round his left ear, grasping under his lobes and then sticking the point into his ear-drum. The right one grasped lower down around his waist and then looped back over his right ear the same way. They must not have had the ability to taste, as Vivianta made no complaint about his ears as she had done with his nose.

"Hello," she said. "Can you hear me?" The sounds couldn't be coming from her mouth, she surely couldn't even breath with three different tubes coming out of it. It seemed to be coming from right next to his ear.

"You're telepathic?" he said. He'd encountered a Nandrasean at the academy who'd given him a demonstration, but this felt different.

"No," she said. "I'm stimulating your cochlear nerve directly with electrical impulses. I'm glad, it doesn't always work with all species. Right, lets see if I remember that song Susia likes so much..."

His ears were suddenly filled with the sound of strumming, one simple chord and then another then back to the first. A snare drum started a shuffle and a high harmonic note played. In his intoxicated state it took Fisher longer that it should to recognize the song, but still only about ten seconds. It was an academy favourite.

"Ground control to Major Tom," intoned Vivianta's voice. It was deeper than her spoken voice but it was still her. This was a live performance rather than her somehow channelling an existing recording back to him. The effect was as though he was sitting in the middle of Bowie' navel while he played guitar. While the instruments, tune and pitch were perfect, somehow she didn't seem to have fully grasped the lyrics, and she faded these into background, most of them replaced with 'la la la's. Instead she foregrounded the countdown.

"Ten...nine...eight," she counted. She started to get to her feet. She rose about twenty-foot tall over him. She was suddenly both a million miles away down a road made of tongues and also inside him. Or maybe he was inside her. He blinked and then there were a thousand different versions of her.

Fisher found each strike of the drum sent another flash of colour across his cornea. He had enough presence of mind to realize he was under the influence of a psychedelic, but this was different. Whatever electrical impulses she was using on his ears was also interfering with his eyes. He wasn't feeling so good and at the same time he felt wonderful. He tried to lean back to stop the room spinning and the tentacles pulled him back into an upright position.

"Seven...six...five." She was now walking towards him. At twice the speed of light it would take her about a week to reach him.

There was one part of his brain that was either less chemically affected than the rest or else was having a bad trip. It was screaming at the rest of his cortex to get the hell away from this interstellar monster rapidly approaching. Unfortunately, it was outvoted by the majority of his cortex which had decided that it was looking into the face of God.

"Four...three...two..." She was now standing above him. Instead of retracting her tongue she had made the now excess length spiral like a slinky down from her mouth to his. With every beat of the countdown she would send a waveform rippling down its length.

Fisher sat entranced, lost in the music.

"One," she said.

Fisher had been waiting for the audio climax, but his breathe was still taken away. It was the sound that Bowie would have used had he been the God Emperor of Earth instead of a somewhat struggling hippy artist. A crescendo not only of every orchestra on the planet playing at the same time, but also every couple in every bed on the planet reaching the same simultaneous screaming orgasm at exactly the same moment.

"Liftoff," she said and threw him in the air. The tentacles withdrew from his ears and mouth and unravelled from his body as he ascended. The pop music stopped the instant they separated, but his body rotated with the music of the spheres as he went into orbit around the solar system of a cheap hotel room. As he reached his peak one caught him again by the ankle, flipped him over and dropped him. He hung motionless in the air and as the bed came up to meet him, the other tentacle formed into an inverted cone. He fell into it before the other tentacle again got a solid hold on him and sent him back up in the air.

Had he been in a better position or state of mind to take everything in he would have recognized Vivianta's next trick as one his grandfather had taught him with a yoyo when he was seven -- the classic 'rock the baby.' He was left spinning back and forth between a triangular flesh gate. Most of his momentum came from the motion of the tentacles, but Vivianta's hand helped out by giving him a firm slap on his bare ass every time he went past it.

It was oddly comforting. Like one of those roller-coasters at Disneymoon that were specially designed for you to fall asleep on. On each arc, as he swung around he saw Vivianta's face transform into something different. This time round she reminded him of Stephanie Westler, an cute little arachnid who'd sat next to him in maths in fourth grade and said she would bury her eggs into his torso behind the bike sheds if he promised not to tell her mom. Then the next time he swung past, she was Stephanie Westler's mother ripping bright red bananas from the tops of the guava fruit trees with her trunk and demanding he come on the great migration as his daughter's broodmate. He'd tried to explain that this roller-coaster didn't stop at Piccadilly, but she just laughed and flew away. That had been the last time he'd seen the Westler family. It had been a pity.

Fisher frowned as he spun. None of those details seemed quite right, but he was probably worrying unnecessarily.

Eventually she allowed him to slow to almost a stop. Instinctively he reached out to grasp the triangular tentacle frame and bring his body vertical again. His feet managed to find purchase on the bottom of the triangle. Now standing, he looked like DaVinci's Vitruvian Man, naked and clinging to geometry.

Stillness brought clarity, though. Stephanie had been his first love and Vivianta would be his last and they were both the same person (person, not spider, that was an important detail that was suddenly swimming into focus). The fog lifted a little and he saw only a woman he could ever love and in whose arms he would stay until he died. His mind was now empty of everything except for the act that would give the meaning and the ending to his existence.

Vivianta was now able to move the tentacle frame independently round the room. She centred it again and raised it so that his crotch was level with her face, though still he was kept three feet away. The tongue came out again and set to work. It made circuits around his chest and then down both thighs and back. It teased at his balls before tracing ever decreasing circles till it reached his cock.

Fisher found his heart rate returning to normal. He'd have blacked-out just now if it hadn't been for his flight training. Maybe he had and this was just a dream. No, the sensation he was feeling now wasn't fundamentally different from a human girl licking his body. He thought of Stephanie and that time in his red Ford when he'd been able to persuade her to put his cock in her mouth. They hadn't gone all the way that time - the tease. But it was good they had waited. They'd only have made a mess of things. Now she was reborn in the correct form, Stephanie could consume him properly.

He found himself getting hard. Even though she had three tongues springing from her lips and stretching them unnaturally, he could see her start to smile. He was delirious that his mistress found his taste satisfactory.

She moved her middle tongue a few inches away from his cock and then snapped it back across his balls. Her tongue made a pretty good whip and he cried out, though more in shock than pain. Her smile only grew wider and she flicked it again across the head of his penis. He was ready this time and his reaction was more muted.

He got himself ready for a third blow but this time, instead of making contact, the tongue looped itself round and round his shaft, completely encasing it in flesh. When it was bound she started to ripple it the same way she had before sending waves of pleasure all the way through him.

The ends of the tentacles descended to his ears again and inserted themselves. As they moved he had to shift his arms a bit to maintain his supporting position.

"You know," said Vivianta, speaking with her normal voice through the sonic connection. "Some people from other species have long term relationships with Balaxian women."

"Really," said Fisher still dazed. He wasn't struggling so much with the idea of a long term relationship as he was with the concept of time as a river that used to carry him in its currents.

"I'm sure you're seeing the advantages, but you know they say there are two main disadvantages to dating Balaxian girls. Do you want to know what they are?" she asked, still stimulating his cock with her undulating tongue.

"I can't imagine," said Fisher, his throat becoming dry.

"Well, firstly, we only make love once a fortnight. That's why we make such very, very expensive escorts. Oh, imagine if I were like Susia and could fuck four or five customers in an evening. Or twenty Natchials. I'd live like a queen. As it is, this is stuck as a sideline. I mostly wait tables, you know."

"Fancy that," said Fisher. "And the other disadvantage?"

"The other disadvantage..." Vivianta paused for dramatic effect. "Well, can you believe that there are guys out there who resent being made to have a conversation during a blowjob."

It turned out that laughing wasn't a sound that could be realistically captured over the sonic link as it came from a different place than mere noise. Instead Fisher got a strange 'hert-hert' ringing in his ears.

"Now, you did make me list things very specifically earlier. Now lets see. Oral can refer to speech, but does it refer to the mouth or can it be just the tongue? I suppose you humans talk about oral hygiene but you're never particularly worried about tongue cleaning, so I suppose it must be the mouth. This is going to be a bit of a squeeze, but it does seem I'm contractually obliged to do this."

The tentacles pulled Fisher towards her, rearranging themselves as he went. By the time his cock arrived at her lips, the left one was wrapped around both his left thigh and arm, and the right one likewise. In order to make room for him, her middle thinner tongue had to retreat completely into the back of her mouth and the two thicker tentacles had to push outwards, giving her a rictus smile. These flesh ropes had to double back down her chin the moment they left her mouth to make insertion possible. When there was a sufficient gap, the two tentacles thrust his crotch forward into her mouth brushing against their own roots as they did so. She took his full length. With three tongues emerging from deep within, it probably wasn't surprising that Balaxians didn't have a gag reflex.

His hips were held motionless and instead of pleasure by lips or tongue, his cock was squeezed hard between the two tentacles. These outer tongues had none of the finesse of her middle appendage and could only offer simple force. It was crude, like an inexperienced foot job, but her mouth still had warmth and saliva. Vivianta put two fists up to her checks and rubbed them creating a lateral motion in the tentacles, causing more friction on his dick. After this introductory tentacle massage, Vivianta started to use the tentacles grasp to move his hips back and forth, meaning she was in full control of her own face fucking.

Slowly she started to raise him up again, tilting her head back so as not to lose his cock completely. The tentacles started to rotate his body so that he was now floating horizontally face down about six feet off the bed. His cock hadn't left her mouth although just the tip was in now. Instead of relying on the tentacles, now she put both hands up directly over his ass in order to steer his cock back in fully. She had craned her neck so she was now looking directly up and from this angle his cock could fit all the way down. She took him in all the way to his balls. Then very slowly she started to rotate him round and round in the horizontal plane in midair.

As he spun, his cock ground and rubbed against the different parts of her throat. He'd been in space for many weeks and, while there were ways to take care of it there, it had still been a long time since he'd had actual sex. As a result he could feel his orgasm building quicker than he would have liked.

"Oh, God, I'm cumming," he groaned.

"Wait a second," she said. She stopped spinning him, and ducked her body down a little to get his cock out of her mouth. She took a couple of steps back, her tongues extending to keep in place until she was under his head. She looked up, took a deep breath and blew a thick smog up into his face. He started to cough.

"No, no, breathe it in. You will cum when the service is complete. Not before. I will see to that."

He tried to get his coughing under control and let the smoke waft up over him. Its tartness had an immediate effect on him. His heart rate increased and he started sweating profusely but his orgasm subsided as suddenly as if someone had taken his penis off and put it in a cupboard in the next room.

She took yet another step back on the bed and withdrew all three of the tentacles at once. He fell face down onto the bed, which was springy enough that he bounced a little. He struggled to turn himself over. She waited until he was looking directly at her and then she leaped.

It was a superhuman jump, even in the lower Grangesian gravity. She reached out and grabbed one of the bars hanging from the ceiling then pulled her legs up to grab another bar. Her wide-spread toes were able to hold onto the bars with the same amount of purchase as her hands. She then rotated both wrists and ankles through a hundred-and-eighty degrees so she was now effectively pinned to the ceiling looking down at him like a deformed Barbie doll.

The tentacles descended again, instead of wrapping him though this time they slid under his back, criss-crossing a lattice pattern. When they started to rise they formed their own bed for him, halfway between a rigid hammock and a softer stretcher. He was brought up to a few feet away from his lover for the evening, but this time with his head under her chest. Her breasts started to inflate, just as they had done at the bar. They brushed against his nose and then his chin but they kept expanding, pushing him back into his makeshift cradle. As they grew they changed colour, from a dark red through orange. The size of each one quickly exceeded that of his own head. He had presence of mind enough to take a deep breath before he was completely enveloped.

Eventually they reached their apparent maximum size. They were practically translucent and extended all the way down to his elbows which they pinned to the tentacle bed and around his head. He existed in the safe space between them. Suddenly white fluid was running everywhere, down each of the massive orbs, onto his face, chest and all through his hair. It seemed to be coming from every inch of her surface area at the same time. He was caught in a deluge. He got some in his mouth.