Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 ________________________________ This is a story about a sexual FANTASY
written for consenting adults.  If you're not both of those, don't read it.
Characters in a FANTASY don't get sick or die unless I want them to.  In
real life, people who don't use condoms and other safe-sex techniques do
get sick and die.  You don't live in a FANTASY so be safe.  The fictional
characters in my stories are trained and experienced in acts of FANTASY -
don't try to do what they do - someone could get hurt.

   If you think you know somebody who resembles any of the characters here,
congratulations, but you're wrong - any similarity between the characters
in this story and any real person is purely coincidental, since all of
these characters are figments of my dirty little imagination.

   This is my story, not yours.  Don't sell it or put it on a pay site. 
You can keep it and/or give it away with all of this information intact,
but if you make money off of it, you're breaking the law and pissing me
off. _________________________________ Close Encounters of an Unanticipated
Kind (Mf, lolita, SciFi, anal, caution) (C)Copyright 2003 - Shakes Peer2B
shakes_peer2b@NONOsbcglobal.net (remove 'NONO' from the above address to
contact me)
/files/Authors/Shakes_Peer2B/
http://storiesonline.net/ (go to the Author's page under 'S')

   ________

   When the first ships of the race that came to be known as the wraiths
appeared in orbit above earth, we almost went to war with them.  This was
all kept secret until a few months ago, of course.  We have since learned
that such a war would have been disastrous for us and inconvenient for
them, so it's probably a good thing we didn't go all Rambo on them.

   The problem was communication.  For more than eight months we tried
every form of communication we could think of while itchy fingers poised
nervously over firing buttons.  We received signals at various frequencies
along almost the entire electromagnetic spectrum, but could find no way to
decode them, either as a whole, or separately.  Every signal WE sent was
ignored.

   Finally, someone deep in the bowels of the NSA recognized a pattern that
could have been part of a chemical formula, or, more accurately, a model of
a chemical compound.  Soon, the top encryption, language, and communication
specialists were joined by the top chemists.  The symbols for hydrogen and
carbon were quickly recognized, followed closely by oxygen.  Then someone
noticed that atomic weights, numbers of nuclear particles (protons and
neutrons) and numbers of electrons were given in complex color patterns. 
Soon, we had the symbols for the entire periodic table and were starting to
put together formulae they sent us.

   It became apparent that they were trying to get us to manufacture a
complex organic compound or compounds whose nature even our top minds
couldn't decipher.  (We have since learned that their communication
equipment automatically manufactures the chemicals whose models are sent to
it.  Those models are constructed in the transmitter by analyzing the
chemicals the wraiths insert into their communication devices - an
electronic extension of how wraiths communicate with each other in person.)

   Going back to basics, we started sending them models of basic chemical
compounds found on earth - water, salt, hydrochloric acid, and on and on.

   They finally got the message that we were in chemistry kindergarten
compared to them.  Somehow, a crude form of communication via chemical
formulae developed.  Don't ask me how it worked - that's not my field.  The
best explanation I ever got was that it was sort of a chemical morse code,
very basic and clumsy, but effective enough to get things started.

   That's when the FBI came to visit me.

   _____________

   "I'll get right to the point, Mr.  Wallace." said the agent in charge,
as he proceeded to beat around the bush.

   "You write porngography, don't you?" He stared at me across my coffee
table.  Normally I would have offered my guests coffee or some other form
of refreshment.  Since my home was now filled with Special Agents, however,
I gave them the special treatment and kept my refreshments to myself.

   In answer to his question, I shrugged, "It's not illegal."

   The head agent, or whatever he was, waved that off dismissively,
"Specifically, you write stories about sex with aliens from other planets."

   I shrugged again, waiting for an actual question.

   "Your stories," head case went on, "have a certain, shall we say, flair,
as if you imagined yourself in actual sex acts with the aliens you
describe."

   That wasn't a question either, and I was tired of shrugging, so I just
waited, watching the little bead of sweat make its way down the side of the
guy's face.  He reminded me of the agent in 'The Matrix', except his
sunglasses weren't as cool and he had a crew cut.

   "If the chance ever arose to actually have sex with a space alien," head
job went on, "would you take it?"

   I looked at him, trying to figure out what kind of trap he was laying.
'What the hell, you only live once,' I thought.

   "It would depend on the space alien." I waffled, "I mean, aliens like
those that Sigourney Weaver had a hardon for would be a little tough to
warm up to.  And that Alf character?  Fagiddabowdit!"

   Without cracking a smile, head banger pulled a picture out of the inside
pocket of his suit coat.  The being depicted was roughly humanoid in shape,
though the ends of its appendages were hard to see, but didn't look like
hands and feet.  Its coloring was sort of like that winged undersea alien
from 'The Abyss' - sort of translucent with color highlights here and
there- kind of like a giant squishy opal.  I couldn't identify any humanoid
facial features, with the possible exception of a mouth.

   "Does it eat humans?" I suddenly realized they were deadly serious, and
tried to lighten things up, "or just suck our essences out through the ends
of our cocks?"

   "These beings," head boy said, with utter seriousness, "have been in
orbit above earth for almost a year.  We finally figured out a rudimentary
way of communicating with them, but it needs to get better.  They insist
that the only way for that to happen, is for one of us to have sex with one
or more of them.  They swear they don't bite, and that they will be gentle,
since it's our first time."

   Was that a joke?  Was that a hint of a smile I saw?  Could head honcho
actually have a sense of humor?

   "Look, Mr.  Wallace, we're in desperate straits here and we need your
help." Head ache looked pleadingly across the table at me.  "We've run
profiles on all our diplomats, translators, and scientists, and none of
them is psychologically suited to do what needs to be done.  We've also run
psyche profiles on more than a million people in our database, and you're
one of the seven who popped out as possibly being capable of completing the
required acts without going completely bonkers."

   I still wasn't sure what his game was, but I wasn't going to just walk
right into whatever trap he was laying for me.

   "So that means you have six other suckers," I asked "why aren't you
browbeating THEM into submission?"

   Head line scratched his crewcut, "We have agents interviewing each of
the possible candidates, but time is short and further testing is needed to
determine if any of you are really suitable."

   He paused for a minute.  "Ah, I think I see what the problem is.  Look,
this is no joke, nor is it a ploy to trap you into saying or doing
something incriminating.  I know guys like you and the FBI haven't exactly
seen eye to eye, but this is a matter of National Security, and I'm
authorized to make you a substantial monetary offer, in writing, for your
participation."

   There it was.  If he made the offer in writing, then tried to arrest me
for something, we both knew it would be entrapment, and I would be able to
sue the pants off him, the FBI and the whole federal government.

   He took an official looking document from the inside pocket of his coat,
signed it with an unintelligible scribble, that, fortunately, looked just
like the scribble on his badge, and passed it across.

   I read it carefully, but thankfully there was very little lawyerese, and
it seemed pretty cut and dried.  If I agreed to undergo certain surgical
modifications and then have sex with certain creatures from another star
system, my bank account would grow to eight figures.  Naturally, I was
interested, since my bank account at present hovered between two and three
figures, depending on where I ate tonight.

   Well, I always had a thing for that 'Abyss' creature that saved Ed
Harris' life.  It wasn't like I had a crowded schedule to clear, or
anything, although it occurred to me that if word of this ever got out, my
stories might get a lot more popular.  I could already see myself doing
Leno and Letterman to promote my books.

   (Closeup of Leno saying, while struggling to keep a straight face: "So,
Mr.  Wallace, do aliens give good head?")

   I chewed my mustache for a while before I realized I was just stalling.
I had already decided.

   Head light knew it too.  He pointed to the blank line over which I
already had the pen poised, and said "Sign here."

   The next couple of weeks were a blur.  I took so many psychological
tests I figured I could probably hang up a shingle and cure serial killers
and rapists by the time I got done answering all the questions.  I was
poked and prodded and almost fainted from loss of blood as they took sample
after sample.  I gave so many urine samples I begged the nurses to just
catheterize me.  They smiled, thinking I was joking.

   At the end of it all, some pucker-butt in a lab coat informed me that I
had passed with flying colors.  I was now one of three surviving
candidates.

   The next thing I knew, I was being wheeled into surgery.  Before I could
ask what they were going to do to me, a mask descended over my face, and
then I was waking up with a very strange feeling in my pelvic region.

   When the cobwebs cleared enough, I grabbed one of the docs and asked
what they had done to me.

   She patted me solicitously on the hand and said, "You just rest, Mr. 
Wallace.  Dr.  Finkelstein will explain everything when the time is right!"

   No matter who or how often I asked, I got the same answer for almost a
week, then I found myself in a wheelchair, next to another guy in a
wheelchair, both of us facing another anal retentive scientist (A.R.S.) in
a lab coat, inside a sealed, mirrored room.

   "Mr.  Wallace, Mr.  Chen" the A.R.S.  nodded at each of us, "I'm Dr. 
Finkelstein.  I imagine you each have a plethora of questions for me, but
perhaps I can answer most of them with a short presentation."

   The lights dimmed and a video lighted the wall behind him.  "When the
'wraiths' as we like to call them, appeared over earth almost a year ago,
we thought they had come to invade."

   Pictures of space ships flashed on the screen, unlike anything I'd seen
in any science fiction story I'd ever read.  They seemed composed of
randomly intersected white sticks.  As the view zoomed in, though, the
sticks changed to translucent crystals, each set grouped in its own unique
pattern, no two 'ships' alike, as if they had been grown instead of
manufactured.

   "Every effort at communication failed.  They flooded our airwaves with
signals that drowned out our communication satellites.  Practically every
agency in the Federal Government was convinced that it was a scenario
similar to that in 'Independence Day', until one bright young fellow..."
From the breadth of Finkeltstein's smile, there was no mistaking who that
bright young fellow might have been, "...discovered that the pattern of
signals looked like a molecular model."

   A complex hydrocarbon chain started assembling on the screen, joined by
others from off screen until the entire view was filled with interconnected
colored dots.

   "We knew what it was, but could neither decipher it, nor reproduce it.
Instead, we used our new knowledge to propose an alternate communication
system.  The wraiths took to it like ducks to water.  It was a simplistic
system, however, and it could only take us so far.  Eventually, the wraiths
proposed a melding of races, a hybrid, if you will.  The proposed beings
would be capable of understanding human speech and translating it to the
chemical language used by the wraiths.  They would also be able to
translate chemical speech into words."

   An anime-like drawing appeared with half-wraith, half-human appearance.

   "To accomplish this, however, it is necessary for one or more humans to
mate with the wraiths.  Their bodies are, apparently, complex chemical
factories and they can manipulate and combine human DNA with their own
chemical coding to form the desired offspring, but it can only be done with
the primary building blocks of our races - sperm from a human, an egg, or
what passes for one, from a wraith."

   A slightly different appearing wraith was flashed on the screen.

   "The wraiths actually come in three different sexes.  The male and
female are similar in appearance in that the male has a seed insertion
organ similar to a penis, and the female has an ovipositor, also shaped
much like a penis.  When reproduction is desired among wraiths, the third
sex - call it a 'combiner' for lack of a better word, is sandwiched between
the male and female, each deposits his or her genetic material in a
separate chamber within the body of the combiner.  Through a process that
is still unclear to us, the combiner breaks down the genetic material of
each and reconstructs it as a zygote having only those characteristics of
each donor that are desired.  The combiner contributes no genetic material,
per se, but is capable of repairing gaps in the genetic material of the
zygote, or adding desirable characteristics not found in either donor.  Is
this clear, so far?"

   We both nodded tentatively.

   "Ok, now here's where it gets tricky." A.R.S.  Finkelstein smiled at his
little joke, "The combiner has a penis-like organ of its own.  This comes
in handy because the combiner cannot carry the offspring.  Neither can the
female.  It is up to the male, with his higher body temperature, to carry
the growing egg, and at the right time, eject it so it can hatch.  It takes
about three weeks for the shell to harden enough to protect the offspring
from the external environment."

   "Wait a minute!" I interjected, "If the male has to carry this
fertilized egg, then all this hoopla has been for nothing.  WE can't carry
eggs either!  Or hasn't that occurred to you eggheads yet?"

   Finkelstein cracked a barely tolerant smile.  "Actually, it has.  And
now you can."

   "Can what?!" I'd about had it with this bozo.

   "That was the surgery you just underwent.  If you could see under your
balls, you'd notice that we have, so to speak, 'torn you a new asshole'
between your original anus and your penis.  When you mate with the wraiths
you and the female will essentially fuck the combiner, who will, in turn,
fuck you, depositing the fertilized egg inside your body."

   "WAIT, wait, wait!" I shouted "I didn't sign up for nobody to be fucking
me in the ass!  I thought I was just going to contribute a little sperm and
bingo!  Hybrid aliens!"

   The prick smiled again, "Technically, Mr.  wallace, they won't be
fucking your ass.  What we've implanted in you is more akin to a chicken's
cloaca - the chamber from which she lays her eggs.  Come on Mr.  Wallace,
I've read your file.  I know you're bisexual, so this shouldn't be too much
of a stretch for you!"

   "Well, actually," he said pensively, "maybe it will!  By the time the
egg is matured enough to face the world, I understand it's about the size
of a football.  That actually MIGHT be a bit of a stretch for you.  Not to
worry, though, we used the muscles from your anus to clamp both holes shut,
so they'll stretch quite a bit."

   "We going to laying EGGS!?" Chen proved he was alive by yelling, "Nobody
tell me I turn into CHICKEN!  I try to doing good thing!  Try to make
money, send kids to college!  How I face wife?!  How I tell her I CHICKEN
now!?  Kids not grow up with CHICKEN for father!"

   Finkelstein lost some of his arrogance in the face of the tirade, but
proved his competence by doing exactly the wrong thing.  He yelled back.

   "You're not a CHICKEN, Mr.  Chen!" Finkelstein's face was almost as red
as his tie, "We've just made it possible for you to do what we're paying
you for!"

   "You not pay me now!" Chen jumped out of the wheelchair "I not be
CHICKEN for you!  I finding way send kids to college!  I not laying EGGS!"

   Apparently the psyche profiles weren't perfect.  The door burst open and
a couple of burly guys in lab coats grabbed Chen and drove a hypodermic
into his arm.  The poor Chinese fellow went limp and was dragged out.

   Sweet!  Now I was the only one left to pull their irons out of the fire.

   "I want a book deal and a screenplay." I said calmly, "Exclusive rights
to the story starting with when you recruited me, in addition to the cash."


   Finkelstein looked puzzled, but somebody behind one of the mirrors knew
what I was talking about, "This is top secret, Mr.  Wallace.  Nobody's
going to publish anything about it!"

   "Who do you think you're kidding?" I looked around at the mirrors, "Even
if none of these monkeys leaks it to the press, you're going to have to
de-classify it eventually, and when you do, I want exclusive rights!"

   There was a long silence, then the disembodied voice came back, "Only to
your part of it, Wallace.  You can tell about your testing and surgery and
any interaction you have with the wraiths, but we get to edit, and we get
the final say over publication."

   "I'll need background," Not having anywhere else to focus, I looked at
the ceiling, "I can't just tell my story in a vacuum."

   "Same conditions," voice came back "we get edit and approval rights, and
you do your own research, we're not handing you anything."

   "Geez!" I blew out a breath, "Whatever happened to free speech!?  All
right, but I want it in writing, today!"

   "You'll have a contract in hand by the end of the day, Mr.  Wallace. 
Now can Dr.  Finkelstein finish his presentation?"

   I looked back at the A.R.S.  and cocked an eyebrow.

   "Right!" Finkelstein jumped nervously, "Where was I?  Oh yes, your new
cloaca!  Well, as I was saying, the mechanics of the coupling are
relatively simple..."

   Actually, the mechanics of the coupling were pretty complex.  I was
isolated in a zero gravity chamber in a space station cobbled together as
kind of a wraith embassy.  The wraiths had been in space for so long that
gravity wells were not their favorite places to be.  They had no bones, per
se, and were, comparatively speaking, quite fragile.  By bringing me into
null gravity with them our scientists hoped to minimize physical damage I
might do to my wraith partners.

   I floated in the chamber, naked, occasionally pushing off from the walls
as the circulating air moved my body around.  Eventually, a wraith appeared
through the membrane that served them as an airlock, followed closely by
another.

   Wraiths have no eyes, so I didn't bother to wave.  They can detect
sound, but don't use it for communication, so I didn't bother trying to
speak either.

   The female, identifiable by her prick and the fact that she had no holes
in which to insert things, recoiled as she entered, apparently taken aback
by my smell.  A strange sort of scent filled the chamber, apparently
emanating from the combiner, and she calmed down somewhat.  They floated in
my direction, and the combiner stretched out an appendage that I thought of
as an arm, because of it's location on the wraith's body.  It touched,
feather-light, my upper arm.  For a moment, we just hung there, motionless.

   I had been briefed that the combiner would sample my body chemistry
before coupling, so I just waited.  Suddenly, a warmth suffused my body,
and I became euphoric.  This was better than any marijuana high, man.  I
was flyin'.  My prick got harder than it's been in years, and through the
wonderful feelings I was experiencing, I noticed the female's dick getting
hard too.

   The combiner floated closer, and I found myself unable to move as it
settled its 'vagina' over my raging boner.

   Of their own accord, my legs spread out, and as the female slipped her
prick up the combiner's 'ass', I was aware of something sort of feeling
around under my balls.  At first, I was afraid it would pick the wrong
opening and I'd wind up shitting my first eggs, but it's senses were sharp
enough to know better, and the prehensile member of the combiner shoved its
way into my new sex organ.  Actually, the sensation felt more like a
pseudopod extruding its way into me.  There was a definite intrusion, but
no sensation of sliding, as there would be if something were pushed into
me.

   I had been briefed on the basics of what would happen, but since nobody
else had fucked a wraith before, the briefing was incomplete, to say the
least.

   The combiner wrapped me up with all four limbs and I felt a strange
sensation at my chest.  I looked down to see two little tube-looking things
attach themselves to my nipples, followed by a sharp needle-prick at the
center of each nipple.  Simultaneously, something slithered into the
opening of my urethra, buried deep inside the body of the combiner.

   Whatever had pricked my nipples kept going into the network of nerves
and glands, exuding something that made my nipples both more sensitive and
less susceptible to the pain of its entry, until I felt as though a
thousand little fairies were nipping and sucking at my chest.  The
description doesn't do the sensation justice, but it was incredible and
incredibly erotic.

   Meanwhile, the catheter thing continued pushing its way into my bladder
and apparently branching out to penetrate the openings to all my sex
glands. Another unfamiliar, but highly erotic stimulation!

   Within a few minutes, the combiner and I were inextricably locked
together by the most intimate of connections.

   I still could not move, but the wraith started pumping chemicals into my
body and into the air around us that had me swimming through a pool of
lust, the like of which I'd never experienced with woman or man.  The
female, too, was thrashing wildly on the combiner's 'back' (Well, wildly
for a wraith.  To me it looked like some sort of mild vibration!)

   I didn't realize until they showed me videos later that the combiner
apparently had two fronts and had attached its other front to the female
wraith in much the same manner as it had me.

   I didn't much care, at the time, however.  As our alien threesome
continued tumbling slowly about the null-gee chamber, I felt a rhythmic
pulsing around my organ.  A similar pulsing was going on inside my urinary
tract and nipples.  The organ within my - I'm sorry, 'cloaca' is just not a
word to be used for a human, so I'm calling it my vagina.  I'd rather be a
hermaphrodite than some non-human monster.  Anyway, the combiner's dick
started pulsing within my vagina and my body built toward the grandest
orgasm of my life.

   When I finally tipped over the precipice, my organs exploded with
everything they had.  Only, instead of the familiar rush of fluid up and
out of my urethra, the catheter thing inside me pulsed more strongly, in
rhythm with my spasms, as if were SWALLOWING my fluids inside the organs
that produced them, and passing them back to the combiner!  I guess it
didn't want to take a chance on losing any of my precious genetic material.

   By the time I came back to Earth, speaking figuratively, of course, the
female was already floating toward the membrane/airlock.  Didn't even take
time to smoke a cigarette!

   The combiner, however, was now fucking me in earnest, its body
undulating and the tube within me pulsing and growing larger.  Suddenly, I
felt three lumpish things pass in quick succession through the combiner's
dick into my 'vagina'.

   Without a word or a gesture, the combiner withdrew all of its appendages
from my body and left, just as the female had done.

   Well, to make a long story slightly less long, only one of the first
three zygotes matured to become a viable hybrid egg.  The wraiths collected
the residue that came out of me when the other two 'aborted'.

   I waited in another chamber for three weeks, sleeping in zero G, my
abdomen growing progressively larger.  From about the end of the first
week, I felt like I had to shit all the time.  It was really difficult to
know when I really had to shit, and when I didn't, so I spent a lot of time
on the toilet (in null gravity, what that means is I hung by my ass from a
suction tube!).  In a way, that helped me with another little problem.  My
bladder was squeezed down to nothing and I had to pee almost constantly. 
By the end of the third week, I had a much greater appreciation for what
pregnant mothers went through.  I was also rapidly becoming an ardent
pro-choice supporter.

   Finally, just when I started thinking about finding some way to dig the
thing out, a couple of wraiths - a male and a combiner, came in.  The
combiner touched me, and somehow I realized it was the same one who helped
me get into this condition.  Something in the moist contact was absorbed
into my skin, sending me into that euphoric state.  The combiner stuck an
appendage between my lips, and I tasted tamarinds or something like them.

   Suddenly, my stomach began to heave.  The egg that had been growing
inside me was apparently ready to be laid.

   My 'vaginal' opening started to relax, just as another spasm hit me. 
The male steadied me as something began poking its way out of me.  One more
enormous spasm, and the biggest turd you've ever seen forced it's way
through my sphincter.  I was screeching in agony, but had no choice, as the
egg lodged halfway out, other than to give one final heave, squirting the
mucous covered pink oval into the hands of the waiting male, who caught it
like a wide receiver.

   The combiner touched the egg and it hardened instantly to a lustrous
mother-of-pearl finish.

   The male took the egg down the passageway to the 'hatchery', while the
combiner pumped me full of something that dampened the residual pain and,
apparently, helped my ravaged opening to heal.

   Two days later, I was back in the breeding room.  This time, the buildup
was longer, but incredibly, my orgasm was even more intense, and lasted
longer than the first time.  The female stuck around a little longer, too,
apparently not released by the combiner until it had finished pumping five
lumps into me.

   Three of the new eggs were healthy, and my next three weeks were even
more miserable.  It was hard to understand - I really looked forward to the
breeding, but suffered incredibly for the three weeks afterward.

   By the end of my second pregnancy, I was staring miserably in the mirror
at stretch marks on my stomach.

   Incredibly, by the time I had laid the three new eggs (not quite as
painfully, thank whatever diety we're worshipping this week), my first
daughter (I named her Chloe) was entering 'puberty'.  She had the body of a
thirteen year old, and the mind of a computer.

   In the two and a half weeks of her life, Chloe had absorbed the entire
online content of the Library of Congress, and cross-checked it for errors
and inconsistencies.

   When it came time for my third breeding, Chloe came into my sleeping
chamber.

   "I am to be the combiner for this coupling, Father." my daughter
whispered as one of her pale hands sought mine.

   "I can't do that!" I balked, "I can't fuck my own daughter!  That's
incest!"

   She looked at me with opalescent eyes that had no pupils, and kissed me
tenderly on the lips.

   "It's all right, Father." the delicate waif with silver hair breathed,
"there will be no repercussions.  No problems with inbreeding.  My sisters
and I are almost good enough to be translators, but our daughters will be
even better.  They will be the ones to bring our two heritages together. 
Come, now.  I want you to plant your seed inside me.

   From the point where her lips touched mine, a glow suffused me, and
somehow, everything was all right.

   We entered the breeding room together to find a female wraith already
there.  Chloe turned and kissed me again, and the familiar euphoria flooded
my being, only this time, I was still able to move a little.

   As my lovely daughter settled her hymen-less vagina over the rampant
shaft of my cock, I was lost in a strange, forbidden world of incest that
was not incest.

   The lovely pre-teen girl enveloped me inside her body as if she'd been
fucking all her life.  Her nipples attached to mine like tiny mouths, and
the familiar sensation of tendrils invading my tits started again.  At the
same time, another tendril catheterized my cock, just as with the other
combiners.  This time, however, there was a difference.  The female
penetrated Chloe's anus and became attached to her back as before, but
nothing penetrated me!

   Chloe, as if she read my thoughts, breathed, "I will carry the eggs this
time, father.  My sisters and I were created with that purpose in mind."

   It was a marvelous change, despite the presence of the female wraith, to
have an almost human lover again.  And what a lover!  Chloe was passionate
and responsive, a welcome change from the impassive chemical factory of the
wraith combiners.  To be honest, the very idea of fucking my daughter
contributed to my arousal, and in record time, I was ready to blow.

   I knew it was going to be the most incredible orgasm yet, but for some
reason, it wouldn't come!  It's like, I got right THERE, and somebody put
me on hold!

   Chloe, meanwhile, was building toward her own peak, sighing and
undulating against my body.  Her pelvis slid up and down my rod, faster,
and faster.  Her body pumped things into me that had me soaring higher and
higher, ready to explode at any moment, but unable to do so!

   Finally, I felt a pulsing through the membrane that separated my cock
from that of the female wraith, and Chloe went ballistic.  A high, thin
whine filled the chamber and an odor of cinnamon and passionfruit assaulted
my nostrils.  As my tiny, trembling daughter plunged into the abyss, she
released whatever chemical hold she had on me and my organs emptied
themselves into her sucking tubes.  Whatever mechanism she used to pump
those fluids into herself must have been working overtime, because I NEVER,
EVER had an orgasm like that, before or since!

   Panting heavily, Cloe gave me an ethereal smile.  "Thank you father,"
she husked, "that was incredible!"

   She seemed to be looking off into space for a moment, then said, "The
one who joined us thanks you, as well!"

   "Really?" I was a little shocked, "I kind of thought they just put up
with this for the sake of the race, or whatever!"

   Chloe gave a tinkling giggle, colored lights flashing within her opal
eyes, "She, like you, was chosen because it was determined that she would
enjoy the chance to couple with another species."

   "Hm!" I mused, "Whaddaya know about that!?"

   My silver haired wraithlet laughed again, "Quite a lot, actually!  These
beings you call wraiths communicate by exchanging body fluids - a very
sensual act, as you know.  You'd be surprised how much curiosity there is
about your sexual practices!"

   She leaned close and whispered conspiratorially into my ear, "She just
had the best orgasm of her life!  She gave me enough of her eggs to
fertilize a whole litter!"

   Chloe's expression turned dark, "Too bad I can only keep a dozen of
them!"

   "A dozen!" I was shocked, "You're not big enough to carry ONE!  Much
less a dozen!"

   She smiled again, "You're sweet to worry about me Father, but you forget
how fast I've been growing.  We - the other wraiths and I - have calculated
that I'll be a full grown adult long before the eggs are ready to be laid.
I've also been given a very flexible egg pouch, but it can only stretch so
far, and twelve is all I can safely handle."

   I was given a short vacation while my other three daughters, Margaret,
Penelope, and Pollyanna, matured enough to jump my bones in the breeding
room.  (Why one 'M' and two 'P's?  Think about it: Penny, Polly, and... 
Peggy, of course!)

   Each was a little different than the others.

   Penny was shy and apprehensive, but when the time came, so did she -
like gangbusters!

   Polly was bouncy and cheerful, and backward!  The hole for the female
was in front, and I had to bring up the rear!  (not that I'm complaining,
mind you.  I know all you dirty old men out there would just love to stick
your nasty dicks up a thirteen year old butt, and I'm no exception!  I
enjoyed the hell out of it!)

   Peggy, though, Peggy was something special.  She had a way of using both
her human and wraith talents to maximize the pleasure for all three of us.
(Yeah, she helped the wraith female out, too, and why not - she was half
wraith!) It wasn't the mind-blowing orgasm that Chloe gave me.  Instead, it
was sweet, slow, and sensual.  She built all three of us up gradually, over
a very long time, never having to shut me off as Chloe had done, but
controlling the pace so that all of us were ready together, and just sort
of swooped down the clean curl of the wave, to land gracefully in the
shallows.

   A couple of days after I finished doing my duty with those three, Chloe
was back, looking fresh as a silver-haired daisy, but all grown up now. 
Somehow, the wraiths stopped the girls' aging right after they reached
young adulthood.  But adult Chloe was just as beautiful and charming as
pre-teen Chloe, but hornier and more experienced.

   It turns out that the wraiths designed them to be constantly aroused. 
By the time I'd serviced all four of my daughters again, my granddaughters
started arriving, also needing to carry my eggs.

   Within half a year, we had produced enough translators to get things
going between the wraiths and us.  It also turns out that it's not as much
of a psychological stretch to fuck a half-wraith being that looks like a
human female as it is to fuck a full wraith combiner, so there were now
dozens of volunteers.  (Actually, once my daughters started appearing on
television, guys were lined up around the block at FBI headquarters,
volunteering to breed translators.)

   For my part, I was still in great demand with my offspring and the
wraiths.  According to my daughters, (and granddaughters, and
greatgranddaughters, etc.) they liked fucking with me, because they got to
absorb the virtual feelings from my fertile pornographer's imagination, as
well as remembered sensations and emotions from real encounters.  The
combiners apparently passed this on, having absorbed it with my body
chemistry.  The wraiths especially enjoyed the illicit feelings I passed on
while fucking my offspring.  In fact, they enjoyed it so much that even
when we no longer had to worry about breeding translators, male and female
wraiths would solicit one of my offspring to engage me in a little
recreational inter-species fun.

   I only got to watch my progeny at work a couple of times, and let me
tell you, that was plenty.  I told you wraiths communicate by sharing body
fluids?  I also told you that my daughters are nymphos by design?  Well,
guess how wraiths exchange body fluids?  You got it!

   My first experience with this was when I sat in an observation booth and
watched one of my granddaughters handle a particularly tricky negotiation.
Basically, she sat nude (because pheromones carry the nuance of wraith
speech and her body was a big pheromone sensor/transmitter), fully impaled
on the erect members of two male wraiths, translating their chemical speech
into English and orgasms.  By the time the meeting was over, even the old
maid who was Secretary of Defense had juices running down her thighs as she
staggered out of the room and every male human in the vicinity had at least
one wet spot on the front of his trousers.

   Having done it's duty to god and my country, my vagina dried up and blew
away.  (Actually, my daughters, once the concept had been proven of having
them carry the eggs, injected me with something that caused it to be
adsorbed into my system).

   My progeny, still horny as ever, and somewhat more capable than their
mothers of handling gravity, took to visiting me in the medium gravity room
I liked to use for certain recreational activities - mostly in the arms of
one of my lovely descendents.  We couldn't make babies, in the normal human
sense, but many of them developed a taste for good ol' one-on-one, gravity
well style screwing.

   Now I know you're asking yourself, 'How does a middle-aged man keep up
with all those nubile young nymphets?'.

   Well let me tell you, buster.  When one of 'em wants to fuck, all she
has to do is touch me.  The stuff they inject in me is better'n Viagra and
Spanish Fly mixed together!

   I come down here now and then to take care of business - like tonight
I'm doing Letterman - but mostly I just stay up there and fuck my brains
out!  I never did write that book, but the movie's gonna make me rich all
over again.  Don't look for a PG-13 rating on it, though!.

   I just need to figure out what to do with all that money!  It's not like
I need to buy a lot of stuff to impress the girls, and they don't WEAR
clothes.  Perfume screws up their senses if they try to wear it.  They
don't eat.  They only drink water.  Maybe I could get 'em a chemistry
set...