Makti: Head On Approach

~ MORNING: ABOARD THE VOIDLIGHT ~

"Your mission is simple, you cross-eyed bitch," Commander Gilson said. "Higher Ups can't be arsed to send down droids, so the sick bastards thought it would be funny to make ME clean up the mess with the only indestructible cunt we have." He leaned forward over his podium, the harsh light of his info-pad casting dark shadows over his eyes. "That's you, by the way. I know you struggle with inference."

Makti flashed her direct superior a smile. "And I know YOU struggle to get laid, you leathery asshole, so I don't mind a bad mouth."

The Ops Room was a small hexagonal ring of metal located in the depths of the Voidlight, as cold and as rigid as the rest of the Sector. Makti, clad in her black, curve hugging suit, stood in the middle of the room with arms folded behind back. The room was mostly dark, save for the harsh light of some info-pads and holograms - the contrast "made recruits more alert", the Higher Ups claimed - but Makti just took it as cheap sci-fi bull. Gilson stood behind a raised podium, backlit by holographic monitors. The skeletal man was taller than most of the crew - slimier, too, in Makti's opinion - and his podium was raised a good foot above the rest of the room; Makti still looked him in the eye.

"Do you know how we treat our elders in England?" Gilson asked.

The alien rolled her eyes. "Uh, that Hell hole of grass on your homeland called DIRT? Yeah, I TOTALLY know all about it."
"And do you know," he continued, ignoring Makti's comment. "What we do to cheeky mouthed little wank stains who don't respect the authority of their superiors?"
"Wow, that was colourful." Makti placed a fist on her hips and tilted her head slightly, initiating maximum sass. A pose she KNEW pissed the old Brit off.

Gilson, for his part, never wavered. Even when the old crook roasted you alive with threats and insults, his demeanour never changed. His voice didn't grow louder. He never sneered. He never stuttered. Gilson was a stone slab in human skin, crafted by a particularly bitter artisan.

But after a long and fruitful career under his command, Makti knew some of the cracks.

"I could have you thrown out a space chute if I wanted. Do not press me, you overgrown Tic-Tac."

"Awww," Makti said. She pouted her lips and frowned, injecting mock innocence into her voice. "Don't make me CRY, Gilson! I simply can't take it!"

"Shut up, hag." And like nothing happened, he resumed the mission brief. "As per your talents - few and far between they may be - I could think of no one better for the job than the eternal thorn in my arse that is you." The hologram behind him shifted, switching to a satellite image of a beautiful sandy shore. The line of golden beach was layered between a sparkling blue/green ocean and a luscious band of tropical trees. The beach looked straight out of Makti's dreams. She could only imagine how warm it was. "The payload," Gilson continued, pointing to a small crater amongst the forestry with a crooked finger, "Is located here. Coordinates will be sent to your transmitter."

"What's in it?" Makti asked. "It's not like, alive or anything? Because if it's another pervy tentapod, I'll take you up on the space chute."

"No," Gilson replied, voice old and tired. "It's far less important, which is why you're here. Held inside the crashed cargo unit is a Tashikki hyperdrive. They're cheap as screws and don't work six days a week, but the Tashikki are very particular about their technology, so we've been commissioned to help pick it back up. All YOU need to do is find it, tag it with a beacon, and we'll beam it back up to base. Simple?"
"As you're sex life." Makti said, saluting.

"You're not very good for much other than sexual jokes, are you?" Gilson replied, his eyes darker than the shadows around him. "I suppose if we're under attack and the invaders have a particular weakness for indignity, we'll call you up. Until then, shut your fucking mouth and head down to port."

"Aye aye, Cap'n." Makti gave him the finger. Damn, she thought, I was sloppy. Maybe I should have brought up his old wife...

The alien turned to head out the door, but before she reached the handle Gilson called her name. She spun around and, to her horror, the old crook was smiling. SMILING. Space-Jesus, Makit thought. Fucking Hell, what didn't he mention? What the Hell would he have to be happy about that WASN'T related to my torment?

"I almost forgot," Gilson said, that icy smile curling up his grizzled face. "From Higher Ups' command, if you 'make another mess' of yourself, you won't get retrieved from the planet's surface."

Makit's face went a shade purple.

"In other words, you'll be stranded," Gilson said, tapping his chin in thought. She'd never seen him so animated in her life. "It's been, what, two months since your last incident? That's a long time for a nympholexian to last without relief. ESPECIALLY one of your type."

A lump formed in Makti's throat; Gilson's teeth glistened like fangs.

"Take care, love."

She hurried away.

~ MORNING: PORT ~

Makti strapped herself in and hit the 'ON' button. No keys for the fancy modern ships.

I hate this so much, she thought bitterly, struggling for breath as the seat belt tormented her ample breasts. The engine purred softly as it gathered heat, gentle rattling the cockpit and the unhappy occupant inside.

A quick lesson in biology.

Nympholexians were NOT humans.

Sure, they were HUMANOID with arms, legs, hair, and pretty faces, but that was where the similarities end. For starters, they had blue skin. Makti was proud of her beautiful, smooth, azure skin, which made her disappear in clear water. But more of note was the fact she was literally BULLETPROOF. She was the perfect specimen for disposable missions in unknown lands, an agent you could throw at any problem and get back without a scratch. That's why she fearlessly defied Gilson as regularly as possible. The medical staff on the Voidlight even had diamond-tipped drill pieces just for her injections. Nymphos were one of the most durable species in the universe.

They were... also the best breeders.

Suffice it to say, no amount of combat training and daily exercise would burn the motherly fat from Makti's skeleton. Despite being superhuman in terms of strength, speed, and durability, nobody ever saw past the head-sized breasts or elephant thighs. She had an hourglass figure only supermodels dreamed after, with fat packed to excess in all the right places. Perfect padding for the lethal musculature beneath. The skin-tight suit didn't help.

So you can understand the cruelty in taking a seven-foot-two superalien, who's hips were broader than some women were tall, and cramming all of her into a single pilot human cruiser. No prizes to guessing who authorised her ship.

The techies gave her Hell for crushing an antenna with her ass on the way in, and cracking the armrests after she'd packed herself inside. The blood circulation didn't last for long. She couldn't even stretch her legs out, and her knees blocked half the pilot interface. In Makti's estimation, her truckload of ass caused more problems than any pirate, robot, or tentapod ever could.

But that wasn't even her biggest body part.

Her crotch twitched.

Happy thoughts, she reminded herself. I'll just sleep through the trip, run to site, stick the beacon, and come home. The suit stays on, always.

She thought of her last 'incident.'

Always.

~ AFTERNOON: THE BEACH, TEN MILES FROM EXTRACTION POINT ~

Makti was in a foul mood.

In spite of her plans, she didn't sleep a wink through the trip, which meant she was too tired to run to site, and she'd forgotten the beacon. So she'd had to run BACK nearly eight miles to retrieve it from the ship, which had decided to park itself TEN FREAKIN MILES AWAY and promptly run out of fuel. Fucking wrenchmonkeys, she thought, they never give me enough fuel! She was tempted to file a discrimination report, but the Higher Ups probably cared even less about her than the techies did.

She sighed.

So hoooooootttt!

Black spandex wasn't a good pick for a tropical climate.

Sweat balled around her temples, and her hair stuck to her scalp. She tried to tug at the collar piece for ventilation, but it was air-tight sealed. Fuck. She was going to lose her fucking mind if she had to stay in this suit for a moment longer. But I CAN'T take it off, she thought, the terrible power of her anatomy flashing in her mind.

"If you 'make another mess' of yourself," Gilson had said. "You won't get retrieved from the planet's surface."

"You'll be stranded."

In this heat? Not an option.

She trotted on.

The crash site was cold by the time Makti arrived.

Thank God.

I made it...

She stumbled to the exposed hyperdrive, fumbling for the beacon. She missed the pocket twice before realising it was in her other hand. The alien was delirious. On the verge of heatstroke, it felt like. Vision blurry, thoughts like sludge. Pain everywhere. One foot in front of the other; there you go. Left, right, left, left-- no, right, shit, grab onto that-- well done, alright, back at it, left, right, left, right, left... right... le...

That SMELL.

Makti blinked. Lucidity rushed back to her psyche.

Her nostrils flared as she smelled the air, brow creasing in thought. It was a strong musk, salty yet sweet at the same time. An animalistic miasma. That wasn't... no, it couldn't be... but it was so familiar...

Something throbbed down below.

"No... no... no..."

The nympho fought to cover her nose as she struggled for the hyperdrive, but the aroma was too strong. Her boot squelched into something sticky as she struggled onward. She wiped her eyes and the horror was confirmed.

Cum was everywhere.

CUM.

No wonder there was no smoke; layers upon layers of cream coated every surface. The engine was probably buried at the very bottom, smothered and broken. Makti's chest felt tight as the scent invaded her nasal passage, awakening ancient instincts. She could see Gilson's sadistic grin, tempting her to fuck up.

The beacon, she thought desperately, I just need to slap it on and then I can run. Yes. Run, all I need to do is run, and I'll be fine--

Her boot caught on a ruined wing. She fell with a wet PLAP!

The beacon leapt from her hand, and paused mid-air.

"Well, well, well," a feminine voice said. "Less than a day spent, and already the hotties are falling into my lap! Hell YES!"

Makti looked up.

Floating in the air, as if hanging from an invisible rope, stood another member of her species. A nympholexian.

She was smaller than Makti, pushing six-foot tall at best. Worse, she was stark naked, blue skin on full display. But unlike Makti's plush exterior, this girl's body was fit and toned - curvy, yes, as all nymphos should be, but defined muscle could be seen. Makti knew without a doubt what she was dealing with.

A psyon.

She also had an ankle-length cock.

"Gnat got your tongue?" the psyon said, floating to Makti's level, though her toes never touched the ground. Makti rose to her feet, panting.

"Give... give it back." She turned her hand.

The psyon pouted, thinking in mock innocence.

"Mmm, how about... NO!" She giggled, rolling back in the air. "How about we play a game for it?"

"I really--" Makti grimaced, battling for her sanity against a wave of arousal. "P-Please, I really need to go. I can't stay. Give me the beacon."

"What!" the psyon crossed her arms, outraged. "No game? What the Hell kinda nympho doesn't play?"

She was a young one, Makti noted. Very well endowed for her age, too. And knowing her own culture, this 'game' undoubtedly involved sex, something Makti absolutely could not allow on this mission. Gilson laughed in the back of her mind. Fucking cockney crook...

"My name's Lulu, thanks for asking," the psyon said sarcastically. "What's your name?"

"Just hand over the--"

Lulu splayed her fingers menacingly. The beacon cracked on one side.

"Okay! Sheesh! I'm M-- I mean..." Best not to give her real name, lest she be recognised. If Lulu knew Makti's reputation on their homeworld - which was fucking LIKELY - there was no chance at dodging sex. "I'm Shashi."

Lulu squinted...

"Nice to meet you!"

"Y-Yeah, you too. Now PLEASE can I have the beacon back? It's urgent."

"Why? There's nothing around here except my ship."

"Wait, YOUR ship?"

Lulu hesitated. "Technically it wasn't MY ship - I was just hired by Tashikki merchants or whatever, they wanted security - but they left me alone one day and I decided to take it for a spin. The stupid auto-pilot screwed me up and I crashed landed here." She shrugged. "Not my fault I can't read Tashikki. Anyway, how big are you?"

One mystery solved, Makti thought.

"Excuse me?"

"Your dick, how big is it?" Lulu asked, perfectly innocently. To her credit, 'personal boundaries' wasn't an established concept in nympholexian culture, so she WAS asking innocently. It still made Makti's face flush.

"I don't have one." She gestured to her smooth, dickless crotch for evidence. "See?"

Lulu giggled. "Nope! You REEK like a futa who wasn't unloaded in weeks - that's really unhealthy for you, don't you know? Take a look around. I held back cumming for just six days and I buried the ship! It's okay if you're a microcock, I won't mind."

Makti's crotch throbbed, drawing a gasp. Her hands rebelliously clutched for a cock that wasn't there, years of instincts and a musky aroma controlling her actions.

"Aha!" Lulu buzzed, spinning in a circle. "See! I KNEW you're a futa. Now you HAVE to show me yours. Come on, come on, come! I betcha I'm bigger."

Makti's pride ached at the insult. An ankle-length shrimp dick mock MAKTI? THE Makti? Oh, if only you knew, she thought. If only you fucking knew, kid.

An idea.

"Tell you what," Makti said. "Sure. I'll whip my meat out, you got me. AND I've got the perfect game to play."

"Ohohoho! Tell me, tell me!"

Makti grinned.

"Head-to-head conquest, winner takes the beacon home." It was a classic game of their homeworld, a challenge in which two futas would wedge their dicks against each other and see who could grow the largest. Childsplay.

"Deal!" Lulu said, spinning victoriously in the air. Using telekinesis, she animated her softie like an arm, gesturing. "I'll even go easy on you. IF your erection can match my COMPLETE soft gigadick, I might consider giving you your goodoo gadget. Fair?"

Makti suppressed a wicked grin.

"Sure thing."

Part of her screamed out to stop, to put an end to this stupid game and come home clean - it sounded like Gilson. And for that crime, she silenced it. Lulu had a point; it had been a MONTH since she'd truly unloaded, and for a futa of her calibre that was bad news. Leaving the issue to build longer would only make things worse down the line. This was the right thing to do.

They agreed to do it on the beach.

"Alright, you ready, pipsqueak?" Lulu teased, tapping the penis coiled over her shoulder. "I PROMISE I won't make fun of you. We can't all be hung like rockstars."

"Mhmm."

Makti gripped the groin of her suit and shredded it with one pull.

The legs, pelvis, and lower stomach ripped off clean in a single sheet. She kicked off her boots into the sand, then let the wind carry the corpse of her suit away. The upper body stayed intact; she liked the bra support.

A synthetic bandage was tied to her thigh, hiding a little lump beneath. She carefully uncoiled the package, revealing a tiny, 4-inch schpinkter laying atop marble sized balls. They were a shade of purple.

Lulu folded over herself, shrieking with laughter.

Makti endured the show and, deep down, felt a little hurt. She would absolutely destroy this kid within minutes, but even then, the mockery hit her where she lived. Cock size was everything on her homeworld.

"Oh my GOD!" Lulu cried, wiping a tear. "It's so CUUUTTEE! Aaahh!"

The taller nympho balled a fist on her hip.

"So, we ready or what?"

Lulu brushed away a small tear with her cock, giggling and sniffling. "Yeah, sure thing, pinprick." She giggled again.

"Good."

Makti shut her eyes.

When she'd left her homeworld - for the safety of her own people - the staff of the Voidlight injected her with size suppressants. Basing the composition on reports of Makti's output, the standard dose administered could kill an elephant's libido for its entire life, and that of its offspring. Makti took four. Monthly. But even this was too little to terminate her libido. Makti was in a perpetual state of arousal, she literally COULDN'T turn off. She simply found ways to distract herself. Focusing with her inner eye, she unshackled herself from her self-made restraints. Time slowed down. Her heart sped up. Waves crashed against the shore, a prelude to the orchestra of noise Makti had in store.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

She let lewd thoughts enter.

In an instant, the quadruple dose of size suppressors were purged from her

Bloodstream. Swept away like paper in a hurricane.

Her cock lurched up, inflating inches every second. Her balls filled in the background, sagging lower as they grew to the size of golf balls.

"Oooo, classy," Lulu said. "Let's get started, then."

The psyon angled her cock perpendicular to her hips, the mango-size head hovering just above Makti's rising member. Her purple shaft, now at 9-inches, poked the bottom of Lulu's crown, sinking into its soft flesh.

The stimulation helped Makti grow some more.

Blood hammered in her ears and her breath grew heavier, growing in intensity as her equipment grew in size. 11-inches, 13-inches, 17-inches...

"Aww, hey look. Your whittle baby weiner might make it half way!"

Lulu's meat was pushed upwards as Makti's cock inflated, thick veins pumping litres of blood up her raging organ. Lulu's, meanwhile, was completely smooth, not a vein in sight. She yawned. "Maaaannn, hurry it up, would you? I was hoping for a decent fight..."

Makti ignored the child and allowed her body to follow natural processes.

24-inches... 28-inches... 34-inches...

Her cock bloated grotesquely to the size of a 2L soda bottle as the head stalked up to her face. The cockhead was approaching actual head-sized now, and a thin sheen of precum dribbled out the tip. She could have comfortably stuck a finger down the cockslit.

"Alright!" Lulu said, clapping girlishly. "Didn't think you had it in you, Shashi, but I'm impressed! Do you wanna call it quits now or see how fast I can destroy you?"

Sweat glistened on her skin. Makti scrunched her brow in an effort, breath hot and heavy. She was on the verge of fainting.

"N-n... no... let's go to... to round two."

Lulu shrugged.

"Your funeral."
In nympho tradition, once the two contenders reached equal size they would sit on the ground facing one another, pressing their cocks as close up as girth allowed. Lulu and Makti did just that. They spread their legs wide, pressing foot-against-foot, and rested back on their hands. Two purple shafts, each 3-feet in length, one soft and plushy, the other rigid and throbbing, met each other, the underbellies pressed together tightly.

"Alright, Miss Little Spittle, wanna see what a REAL hyper looks like?"

Makti's chest rose and fell in exhaustion, eyes closed shut, tongue rolled out. "Y-Yeah sure, go... go ahead..."

Lulu sucked in a breath of air and steeled herself.

Makti - through her own member - felt a change in her adversary's cock. The limp sausage was mostly propped against Makti's own; fluid rushed beneath the skin at an alarming rate, tickling Makti's shaft. She almost giggled. Fortunately, the stimulation let her grow another couple inches.

"Time for my full erection, baby." Lulu said, grinning from ear to ear.