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They Cum from Outer Space (1)

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Heheh, a very new theme for me, but Sanmer had the idea, and I'm putting it down on paper - do enjoy this romp, and tell me what you think about it!

Cheers!

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03:45 AM, WESTBOUND ON THE HIGHWAY

Curtis Bailey could hardly keep his eyes open.

The bear was nodding off on the wheel of his Ford pickup, really finding it a struggle to stay awake. Even the late night radio was barely helping him stay up, the ridiculous music only made him feel annoyed. He still needed half an hour to get back home, even with the deserted road ahead of him. He'd only passed a few delivery trucks during the last hour or so. Traffic had truly died by now, only the road and the sweeping lights offering any kind of a stimulus for the weary bear steering his road monster.

"...and next up, Taylor Swift is singing - "

"Fuck," the bear growled. He wiped his eyes with one paw and grumbled. "Fuck, fuck - "

An electric guitar had started to play over the airwaves, but it disappeared with a screech that made the bear's ears droop. The backlight of the radio faded out after fritzing a couple of times, and soon the gauges followed. The headlights didn't even give any warning to them dropping out, they simply plunged the bear into almost total darkness, only the stars and the moon giving any kind of illumination for the bear who was suddenly sitting behind the wheel of a car with no ignition, no lights, and no radio.

He gripped the steering wheel hard, gasping and cussing as he dropped his foot off the gas and carefully tried the brakes instead. The car's deceleration seemed to increase from it, which meant that there was some pressure left in the system, and that could be the ticket to saving his ass. He wasn't as much worried about stopping the car as he was having it stop in the middle of the road with nobody else being able to see it because of the car having not a single light working on it.

It was difficult to figure out just how fast he was moving, with so little light to offer any visual reference points, and no gauge readings, but eventually the car slowed down and the bear carefully coasted off the road and onto the sandy, gravelly side of the road, out of the way. The shock absorbers jittered and the wheels screeched softly as they displaced gravel, but eventually the car finally came to a halt and Curtis Bailey dared to take a breath again.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he grunted.

His contraction-like grip on the wheel was finally released, replaced by a weary slap against one thick thigh.

"Crapping shit!" he cursed the car. "Fuck you."

He put the ignition key into the "Off" position and tried to start the car again, but there was no reaction. Zip. There was simply no power.

"Fuck," he thought.

The battery must've been dead. The bear snorted hotly and pushed his big, clammy paw into his jeans pocket to get his phone out. He might have to call for the tow truck to get his piece of crap of a car out of the road.

The bear's face pulled into a massive scowl. His phone was dead too. No amount of tapping on the screen or hitting the power button was bringing any life to it.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" the bear bellowed.

03:46 AM - TOWN OF HOLLERTON

Four miles away from where Curtis Bailey's car had made its surprise stall on the highway, Tucker was sleeping in his bed, blissfully unaware of any earthly worries. The Rottweiler dozed on his back like he usually did, head tilted to the side on the pillow, one paw tucked up near his head while the other rest comfortably over his barely belly. The dog only wore a pair of loose boxers to bed as per his preference, and was sleeping deep and sound and having nice doggy dreams of the kind that made him ruff-ruff occasionally in his slumber, his tail swapping about from side to side under the light covers, toes curling as if he was trying to grip the sheets with them. The young man's untroubled expression, relaxed ears and the tilt of his head made him look almost like a pup, tucked to bed for a nap by his dear mother.

Tucker's phone was hooked up a charger on the nightstand. At 03:46 am, the screen suddenly lit up, showing those very numbers upon it when the charging was interrupted with the loss of mains electricity into the house. A second later the phone itself shut down with seemingly no external explanation, when the entire town of Hollerton was plunged into darkness.

The Rottweiler slept on, unaware of the fact that every electric appliance and piece of electronics within a five-mile radius had ceased to function at the same moment, an inexplicable event that didn't seem to make the press in the next morning despite the large area of involvement. It was as if it both happened and didn't happen. Just a glitch, nothing more, nothing to tell of, move on, carry on with your lives.

At few seconds past 03:46 am, Tucker's smooth furs began to stand up and bristle when every single tiny muscle attached to each of his hair follicle quite promptly flexed, causing the dog to assume the appearance of a scared hedgehog, still sound asleep under his covers. In the space of the next four seconds, the dog's molecules were converted into a beam of pure energy and transported through fantastic means to a spot 150,000 kilometers away from Hollerton, straight up somewhere halfway between the Earth and the Moon where the cloaked ship held position.

The dog appeared within a transparent pod, roughly nine feet long, three feet wide, the top rounded and giving anyone who might look in a clear view of the dog now sleeping on a platform thinly padded with a slightly milky plastic substance. The dog stirred a little, as if he was aware that for a while his body had been not only weightless but quite immaterial, but then the Rottweiler simply let out a deeper breath, a huff, and carried on sleeping.

The room was relatively dimly lit but for the bright spotlight above the container with the dog inside. His appearance inside the transparent box had been heralded by a beam of bright blue light which had now subsided. This prompted the iris-like shutters upon the faceplates of the shapes standing by the box, a few yards away, to open, to be replaced with an eerie yellowish glow of eyepieces staring out to spy on the dog.

They exchanged words over wireless communication, deep within their suits and not heard by the dog's sensitive ears, especially with the thick transparent material between him and the occupants of the room. They approached slowly, warily, even, shiny black shapes in suits that glistened under the light like oiled leather, or rubber, perhaps. Some of their movements caused hisses, and glowing cabling trailed them, supplied whatever systems might require it with some mysterious form of locomotive power.

Five of them gathered around the pod with the sleeping Rottweiler within in, eyeing the canine. There was movement, quite excited, it seemed, of limbs, heads, the shutters in their eyepieces moving rapidly. Bursts of speech were exchanged, sometimes many voices at once, which resulted in even more head shaking and flicking of limbs, whose number seemed to be neither constant nor their shape uniform.

They congregated about the pod, five curious shapes observing the strange canine within. Their chatter continued for several moments as they held conference with one another, all the while strange metallic shapes moved behind them, bringing equipment towards the gathered shapes eagerly studying their doggy guest inside his quiet enclosed pen. Their speech continued to come in quick, unintelligible bursts, exchanged through their internal communications hookups the dog was completely unaware of still. Remarkably so, despite his interplanetary trip, Tucker still managed to remain unconscious for now.

That was due to change, momentarily. One of the creatures, the one standing by the sleeping man's right side, pushed one of its arms towards the dog, its top passing through the material of the transparent pod that had hence been revealed to be insubstantial. An even smaller tubule extended from the arm hovering near the dog's neck, and it became almost infinitely thin before it finally touched the fur and skin, and penetrated them, accompanied by a hiss.

The combination of the noise and the sensation alerted Tucker, whose eyes snapped open and his ears flattened. His body began to tense up, but almost as soon as it started, a kind of a dull peace fell upon his soul and he simply laid there, eyes open, breathing softly, not moving. It felt too comfortable to just rest, the light somewhat bright on his eyes but not painful. His ears could hear a few strange noises, like the buzz you could hear when you pressed your ear against an old CRT television, like he'd done as a pup to the big old tube back home.

The other creatures moved, closer to the other end of the container. Several limbs, half a dozen, at least, extended into the box through its permeable surface, and began to work on the semi-conscious dog's body. Hook-like fingers grasped the fabric of his boxers and a laser cut them on two sides, so that the fingers could draw the now cut cloth away from Tucker's loins. One strangely shaped appendage began to expel a kind of a dust or a vapor that the dog vaguely felt as a coolness upon his fur, his thighs, his sheath and balls, but he could not smell it, nor he felt any other sensations involved with it. Most of all, he didn't care. There was a kind of a dissonance he couldn't explain because he didn't want to. It didn't seem to matter that someone was blowing air against his junk, or touching him, or doing something bizarre he didn't want to explain.

Further arms appeared, the finger-like appendages spreading out and turning from the uniform black of the limbs into a shiny steel. They glinted under the sharp light coming from above, and seemed to suggest some finer purpose, though Tucker's drowsy mind wasn't bothered to try to come out with an explanation.

A shimmering beam appeared out of the tip of a blunt finger upon one arm and traced an arching pattern over the Rottweiler's groin. A few tiny wisps of smoke rose from burnt fur here and there, something Tucker could smell, but besides that, there were no sensory experiences from whatever was happening to him.

Onwards went the fingers, a dozen tools moving like the legs of a spider, pushing under skin and fascia, parting muscles, ligating blood vessels and bypassing nerves, the little shiny fingers dwelling into the dog's flesh while Tucker simply continued watching with disinterest, his breathing still slow and steady as if he was still asleep.

The dog didn't even flinch when the hook-like fingers grasped skin and fur and pulled on it like a flap, to reveal the fleshy, bloody insides of his very own body. There was no pain, no sensation, no comprehension of the fact that mysterious hands that really weren't even hands were manipulating his very flesh, his private parts.

The shiny steel fingers moved fast, being everywhere at once, it seemed to the dull observer of a dog. They parted ligaments and rerouted blood vessels, clipped nerves and detached parts of the fascia. A few muscles twitched here and there over the dog's thighs and scrotum, but that was the only otherwise visible thing that something extraordinary was happening to him.

The feverish activity continued at a rapid phase, and seemed to reach a climax of sorts, at least for the moment, when even further mechanical hands grasped upon the dog's scrotum. A curiously shovel-shaped appendage moved into position underneath them, and then, with a particular slowness...there was nothing more there.

Tucker was watching, too, his eyes were open and he watched quite clearly when his genitals flopped away upon the carrier and were moved away from his body. They left a shiny V-shaped...hollow, of sorts, glistening with cellular fluids, with blood vessels crisscrossing the surface. One could even see them pulse with the force of the blood rushing through them on each of his languid heartbeats. Little shiny pieces of what could have been metal or plastic, perhaps, peppered the surface, their purpose still to be determined.

The spray appeared again, covering the dog's groin in vapor momentarily before the numerous arms and fingers moved anew, whirling and endlessly buzzing. Nearby, one of the dark creatures had moved the Rottweiler's junk over to a table of sorts lit up with another pillar of bright white illumination coming from above, within a similar force field as the dog who was currently resting in oblivion. Fingers extended, pushed into the flesh with needle-like tips and placed the shapeless body part upon a little shiny pedestal, bright as chrome on the bumper of a car, a dull thought would later pass Tucker's mind when he'd recall the hazy events of the night.

The flesh came into life, in a bizarre, Frankenstein-like fashion of twitching until suddenly the dog's disembodied erection was standing upright and pulsing upon its pedestal. Tucker's mind barely registered the odd sight of his cock standing in attention, not upon his groin but on this strange table while a black creature with shiny yellow eyes was staring at it. It even prodded it, he could see, and the large canine shaft pulsed under the touch, glistening and throbbing as if attempting to grow even harder.

Tucker almost laughed. This dream wasn't funny anymore. Whatever kind of weird bondage porn he'd had to watch to make this kind of shit happen in his mind he wasn't sure of, but he was fed up with it now. This dream was getting boring, and too much like some sort of a SAW movie.

Nice things, he thought. Dream about nice things.

And slowly, indeed, he didn't dream about anything at all, and that suited him just fine.

*

12:14 PM - HOLLERTON

Tucker slept on his bed, lying on his back and not dreaming about shiny rubber or glimmering steel. The dog had kicked a bit in his sleep and rumpled the sheets to a degree, but that was nothing unusual. He was sometimes a restless sleeper, having those funny chasing dreams that all canines seemed to have, sometimes, of running endlessly after something he couldn't quite see, but he knew that he wanted to catch it. Sometimes it felt like the dream could last all night, causing him to wake up feeling like he'd just finally managed to catch up with his prey, a bit breathless and often, curious enough, with a cheerful, stiff boner, too.

Tucker woke up slowly this time around, and didn't have a boner, either, as far as he could tell. He opened his eyes, yawned, stretched a bit, and scratched his bare chest. He felt cosy and snug under his covers, not really caring to get up from the bed yet. Vague images of the bizarre dreams from last night floated past his mind, but he pushed them quickly away. Stupid mind, the Rottie thought, coming up with weird shit for the sake of being weird. It wasn't even that long since he'd dreamed that his teeth had suddenly fallen off out of his maw. That made very little sense, too.

"Bah," the dog grumbled. He kicked at the mattress a little with one footpaw and rubbed his paw down along his belly, over the covers, to cup his plump sheath -

But his fingers pressed down on something hard, and smooth, and it didn't feel like his sheath at all.

"Whut?" the dog muttered aloud as he felt up over the mound of his groin.

It felt firm, warm, though, but it wasn't his sheath.

"What the fuck - "

He pushed the covers away and stared down along his body at where he expected to see a healthily sized sheath swelling with dick, some fuzzy furs over his navel and then his balls, sleeping still in their warm sac between his legs. Just regular doggie boning equipment, the kind every dude liked playing around when they had a free moment all for themselves.

Right now the dog was looking at his groin, his bare groin void of the boxers which were rumpled on the end of the bed by his footpaws - he must've kicked them off, he thought hysterically, somewhere on the back of his mind - while the center of his attention was at his dick.

It was more like the lack thereof that caught his attention. Where his equipment was meant to be was a roughly V-shaped plate of chrome-colored material, over his sheath - though there was no sheath there to speak of, just that smooth surface of metal that was actually shining in the sunlight coming into his bedroom from a crack in the curtains -

"This is still a dream," Tucker declared, his tail swiveling against the sheets. "Shit."

This weird castration anxiety dream was really starting to piss him off. What was the point of dreams where you dreamed that you woke up and then realized that it was still a dream? Besides, the sight of that weird metal thing down there instead of his dick was creeping him out, dream or not.

"Fucking hell," Tucker mused.

He clenched his paws into a fist a carefully tapped the strange armor plate of a thing covering his groin. It let out a hollow clang, like clipping the hood of a car with his paw. The thought probably popped to his mind because of the chrome gleam on it, like on some old tasteless car that was the extension of a small dick to some stupid prick. It didn't feel like much, doing that knocking, either.

Tucker let out a nervous chuckle. That's what this dream must've been about, he thought, some kind of a bizarre Freudian thing. Small dick, big car, chrome, no dick... dreams like this made very little sense. He wasn't sure why that kind of a thing would even pop to his mind, subconscious or not? He liked his dick, there was nothing wrong with it. He'd just rather wake up for real and find it where it was, hopefully with a nice boner he could rub to get one off before he'd have to start on the less fun activities of the day. Right now that wasn't really possible, with this strange plate on his groin, but then again, were you able to have an orgasm in a dream? He remembered having a wet dream when he was a teenager, but he couldn't remember dreaming about anything sexy when it happened. That didn't make the memory any less embarrassing, however, remembering his messy sheath, pajamas, even the sheets, covered in doggy spunk.

"Bah."

Tucker pulled the cover back onto himself and flopped his head onto the bed, fully intent on getting back to sleep...however that worked when you were already asleep and dreaming that you were about to turn in again. No wonder he hadn't really gotten that Inception movie when it came out, too much wonky logic. Though this dream about having a chrome-plated crotch surely beat even that, he thought, snorted, and closed his eyes. Time to get a bit more shut-eye, he wasn't in a hurry, it was Saturday -

Tap tap tap.

The Rottweiler's ears flapped against his pillow and his eyes snapped open. He'd just heard a strange noise...a hollow tapping, or knocking, really...and his cock was throbbing.

Thank fuck, the Rottweiler thought with a deep, satisfied rumble. He'd just woken up again and his cock was exactly where it was meant to be, the stupid bad dream was over and he could finally get his paws on where they mattered most.

"Come to dad - " the Rottweiler started to rumble to himself as he pawed his way along the covers to the bulge of his boner upon its surface, to wrap his fingers about his shaft to give it a good, healthy squeeze -

His cock twitched under the blanket - visibly so - and seemed to grow even harder, standing upright from his groin like the healthy rigid doggie pole it was.

"Hmmm..." Tucker grasped his dick through the blanket and gave it a small stroke, feeling the twitches continue, how it gave him further twinges of pleasure as he put pressure onto his sensitive flesh, sliding fingers down over to his knot, so swollen and hard. He was just about able to put his fingers around it, especially with the blanket around it, and it felt so nice...it made him rumble and grin and his tongue lolled out a little.

The squeeze on his knot set out a chain reaction that would never stop harrowing the Rottweiler. His cock twitched and seemed to surge forward, and his paw, riding upon his knot, moved up as well until he simply couldn't anymore, and his eyes spread wider than they probably ever had before when his cock - and the blanket, for that matter - seemed to raise towards the ceiling.

For a moment he was suspended in time, looking at the bizarre tent of the blanket suddenly rising above him, sliding over his chest to bare his body in view while it still seemed to rise and rise, the cloth rubbing over his body while he lied on the bed frozen in utter shock, staring with his maw open, the blanket going lower and lower towards his navel until he saw a glimpse of something silvery...chrome...

It moved like a whip, threw the blanket down to the floor and swung over again, coiling like the tail of a scorpion that instead of a stinger possessed seven inches of silvery canine cock, complete with a knot, and below it hung a pair of chrome spheres that were large and suspicious shaped like Tucker's balls, previously furry and low-hanging, and now attached to what looked like several feet of...of what exactly? A strange...pylon? Pillar? Shaft? Whatever it was, it was solid, about an inch thick and emerged directly from his groin, out of a square opening of shiny metal about where his sheath was meant to be, now replaced by the chrome plate from his dream, now parted so that this...thing....could come out of it and hover over his body.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Tucker yelled, his maw open, his lungs depleting their air supply while he hollered in frozen terror.

The object moved again, leaning towards the shouting dog's muzzle, with the canine cock pointing the way, hovering above Tucker's wide eyes, every bump and curve and detail more than clearly visible over the dog's muzzle.

"AAAHHHONONOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" the dog continued his yelling.

I HATE THIS DREAM. I HATE THIS DREAM. I HATE THIS DREAM. went the dog's psyche while his eyes took in the strange sight of his cock floating in his field of view. Cocks weren't meant to be viewed from that angle, he thought hysterically, at least not your own!

Suddenly the whole thing began to twitch, the knot, too, sending surges, familiar pulses of pleasure into the dog's tingling groin, causing his body to tense up anew when the piss slit on the top of the blunt canine tip seemed to expand - and he had never seen his own do that from about ten inches away, but true enough, the shiny pisshole widened up just before a huge splurt of musky canine cum splashed all over Tucker's gawking face.

"UGH!" the dog yelped, his nose full of musk, while hot spurts covered his face, his neck, the bed, giving him multiple pearl necklaces while his shaft twitched and spent spunk all over the young dog. His tail snapped the bed, his asshole clenched, his body was in the throes of a massive orgasm he couldn't explain, and he was literally hosing himself down with cum. His cumming cock even caught his maw and covered his surprised tongue with smutty seed. Tucker sputtered and coughed as he felt the hot goop over his tongue, sliding along it to the back of his throat and filling his taste buds with the raunchy flavor.

"Aghjhjhhh!" the dog hollered.

Eventually it did stop, but not before he was a cummy mess, and dripping all over as much as the strange, towering dick thing that now occupied his crotch. He opened eyes, with droplets of cum sticking to his lashes, and the room smelled incredibly dirty, too, pure sex with every breath Tucker took, fully expecting to wake up from the strangest wet dream of his life to -

But no, no, the chrome cock was still there, now about two feet long below his 'balls', those metal spheres attached to the bump on the long, narrow article before it flared out to create the classic shape of the canine phallus. A dribble of cum still hung down from the tip and glistened to the side of the cock, still twitching occasionally.

Tucker felt everything alright. Every single throb and twinge could be felt as a sexual signal, his body giving sensations very familiar to him, despite their source being so perverted, strange, off-worldly, and seemingly out of body as well. This thing...this...item...it wasn't him, it couldn't be, this was still a dream, the Rottweiler thought. He'd never felt as fed up with sleep as he did now, watching his dream-cock sway a little, as if it wasn't quite sturdy enough to support the weight of the swollen penis on the top.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Tucker spat out some cum mixed with his saliva, and the glob landed on his chest that was equally covered in his thick, viscose mess, reeking of musk. He wiped his shaky paw quickly over his muzzle and made a face. The following snort seemed to expel some spunk from his nostrils as well.

"Eww," the dog grumbled in distaste. He might've tasted his stuff before but never in this quantity, nor without explicit previous consideration. Just getting it pouring down his throat was not something he had envisioned to be enjoying.

No amount of blinking was making the bizarre pole disappear, either. The strange genital 'stalk' remained where it was, protruding from the door or a hatch on his groin, where it seemed to meld completely smoothly with the shiny metal that covered the surface of his crotch. A careful tilt of his leg told that it went down his perineum as well..though the base of his tail didn't feel in any way different than it should be. That was a small mercy, considering that his cock, which looked only vaguely like his junk the way he remembered it, still hovered several feet away from its normal position on top of that strange...flagpole thing.

"This is getting seriously unfunny dream," Tucker declared aloud. "I might be getting psychologically damaged by this shit, brain."

He snorted - was he really taking to his brain now? Or to his cock? He chortled incredulously.

"So, yeah, body, so this might really be a good time to wake up..." Tucker grumbled.

The shiny cock stalk gave a little twitch, and continued to hover.

*

Thank you for reading! I hope you had an interesting time and I look forward to your comments!