That Time I Joined an Alien Harem, Chapter 4: The Measure of a Woman

Hey! Thanks for playing.

The story so far: taken to the occupying alien empire’s orbital fortress, our lovely hero has been forced to submit to the tender attentions of a froglike alien doctor, who is determined to assess what their value to the imperial harem might be…

———-

Cw: bondage, medical examination, molestation, threats of rape

———-

The gangly, four armed alien doctor releases me from my transport cart. My naked skin is sore where I struggled against the bonds on my waist and ankles. As I step down, they point to a platform in the center of the room.

“Stand here.”

Their finger curls around the edge of their pad and presses a button. The door closest to me opens up. Beyond there’s an empty hallway that curves away with the arc of the station. I bolt.

I’m halfway to the door when I feel long, thick fingers in sets of three close around both my wrists and neck. The doctor drags me back with incredible strength, like the long, wiry body is one big muscle. I’m forced onto the platform without much effort. They’re only using three of their four arms. The other’s behind their back.

“Rude. Still, wanted to see what you’d do. Tsk. Those fools in robotics will never perfect compliance training…”

My hands are pressed into firm rubber shackles and raised above my head on a motorized steel bar. My feet sink into some kind of warm, liquid plastic that hardens around my ankles. I’m totally locked in place, completely prone. Exposed. All I can do is twist my naked body in the air.

The doctor clucks and pulls up his holographic notes on their arm.

“Now. You’re a female? A woman?”

I give my chest an extra twist, but the brace is rock solid. My breasts rise and fall with my breathes. My hole’s exposed beneath my spread legs.

I say, “Fuck yeah I’m a woman.”

“And what are your pronouns?”

What. The. Fuck.

“She and her,” I say, without thinking. I’m dizzy.

They push a holographic button. The ring around the edge of the examination platform spins and runs a grid of lasers up my body. There’s no corner of my body they can’t reach, no inch of me they can’t see. A photorealistic projection of my naked form develops on the doctor’s holographic screen.

They say to themselves, “Subject human female, pronouns she/her. Clothing of indeterminate gender.” One eye flicks to where the scraps of my clothing lay, discarded by the transport cart.

“Subnote: clothing did not survive examination, requisition replacements pending arrival. Notes continue: genital subset seven alpha. Mating cavity with vestigial mounting prod; suggests sexual dimorphism develops late in growth.”

They move around me and examines different parts. They pinch my waist and prod my belly, runs one soft, gloved finger all the way from my shoulders to the cusp of my ass. For a moment, I worry it’ll go further. And for a flash, I hope it does.

“How about you?” I say, mainly to try and drown out the hammering of my heart.

They don’t stop examining me, inch by soft, available inch. They’re not trying to turn me on, I don’t think, but when they’re out of sight behind me and their soft, almost gooey, thick fingers close on the crest of my bum, I feel a little shiver. What those fingers could do in my hole…

“I’m an etzitencuatlacti. We’re swamp dwellers.” Is it my imagination, or does their mouth widen a bit like a smile? “Ambush predators. Since incorporation into the empire, mostly assigned to biology and special forces. Makes good use of skills.” A gurgle in the back of the throat. “Not many assigned to the imperial harem.”

“Yeah okay. And uh. What’re your. Pronouns?”

Both eyes blink at the same time.

“Hermaphroditic egg layers. Carry live young in genitals flaps on back.” That gurgling sound again. “Low birthrate. One reason for historic interest in biology. Answer to question: agender, pronouns they/them. Enough foreplay. Let’s get to work.”

They put patches on my skin. They try out a few buttons. Where the plastic hugs my skin, first it hums. Then it burns. I squeal as they send the sensation of biting cold up my arm and shocks my arm until it’s numb. And where a thick pad presses my back, I feel a deep, tingle of kisses run up my spine.

“I’m mapping your pain and pleasure zones. Standard protocol when a new species joins the harem.” They make that deep gurgling sound I’ve heard a few times. A laugh? Because then they say, “Going to open you up and see what makes you slick.”

Is that a fucking joke. Fuck me. And I thought my day was going bad enough. The alien doctor probing me for my kinks before I’m shipped off to an alien harem… has a sense of humor.

It also makes me think of a bad ex boyfriend who prided himself on “body sensitivity”. I tell the alien doctor the same thing I told him.

“You could just ask me what I like.”

Their three tongues click as they lean in to examine my hair with a set of three gooey fingers.

“And you could lie. More thorough to check myself. Now hush.”

I open my mouth to laugh but then a probe’s down my throat. Fuck. I didn’t even see his hand coming. Before I can spit it out, it swells and locks itself in place with a firm pressure on my throat and tongue. My lips must be a perfect circle. I test the rubber with my teeth, but it’s too dense and springy to penetrate, and soon my jaw is sore and I have to relax.

“Let’s probe a little deeper.”

The probe in my throat is swelling and extending. It spreads down my throat. Somehow, it misses my uvula and locks in place deep down my esophagus. I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe…

It’s so much firmer and deeper than a regular old choke. Just enough to make my lungs writhe and my slit throb. No risk of damaging something, not under their attention and instruments and measurements. They wouldn’t dream of damaging the emperor’s new toy. I realize: I’m dripping down my leg.

“Interesting. Noticeable sexual arousal from constriction of esophageal passages. Makes me wonder how many of your species die from sex gone wrong.”

My lungs are starting to burn. Saliva’s pooling in the back of my throat.

The probe retracts. I suck air down my nose and into my grateful lungs. I choke on my own collected spit for a moment. They watch me gasp and swallow.

“As I suspected. Strong oral-sexual fixation. Present in eighty three percent of subject races. Tsk. Everyone likes it down the throat. But what makes **you** special, little monkey?”

They attach the anal probe to a long, motorized arm. My eyes are wide as their fingers approach the control button. And suddenly I’m melting onto it. Gasping through the plastic in my mouth. Shivers run from my ass up through my body.

Fuck. I need a break. I need them to stop. It’s too much.

“Please uh… please stop. Just for a moment. Just for.”

The probe slides out my ass with a slick sound that sends twists of joy through me. My things quiver. I hang in the restraints and try to forget how badly I want to cum. Even a touch would be enough. Even a cold, metal prod held in alien fingers. Just touch me, please. I need to be…

“So. Uh…” I try to breathe. My voice is airy. Gaspy. I muster all my concentration. “Got anyone in your life?”

“Part of five mate creche. Two others here, on occupation duty, two on homeworld with the fresh-hatched.”

They run some kind of sensor across my thighs, where they’re still shaking. It’s cold. I shiver where it runs up my leg, past the warm wetness and sooo close to my clit. if I could only move myself an inch or two more, I could slip it inside me…

But it’s useless. I’m held tight. And this bastard is in no rush to get me to cum.

They put another probe between my legs. Finally, I think. But when it starts, the pumping is so gentle, I nearly scream in frustration. I squirm, try to plunge it deeper in. It’s no use. The closer I get to cumming, the softer it throbs. All I can do is hang and be edged into drooling oblivion.

The doctor watches all this with one of their eyes. The other flicks down their holographic notes. Alien characters in spiral scripts uncoil from points in a three dimensional lattice of lines leading to points on a photorealistic projection of my body. The one leading to my mouth already has three stacks of note-coils built up.

“Hum hum,” they say. “Oral, anal, vaginal. So standard. What’s left? What’s different? What have you got that I can publish?”

I try to say something, but the oral probe turns it into sub-moronic gurgling. Their fingers press against the tip of the probe; it shrinks and releases my mouth. As it slides out, it pulls a line of spit from my tongue.

I work out my jaw for a moment, then say, “You could turn them all on.”

Both their eyes blink. The mouth widens. They gurgle long and deep.

“Clever little money wants to orgasm? Nice try.”

I shrug. “Worth a shot.”

They flick through their notes while I hang, dripping sweat and spit and need.

They say, “I think you’ll do well. Lots of erogenous zones. A nice, flexible body on a good, sturdy endoskeleton. If we were off duty and I wasn’t an asexual, agendered egg-layer in a committed five-way relationship, I’d probably want to fuck you.”

“Thanks,” I say, not entirely sarcastically. Then I add, “Hey. You’ve examined other harem slaves, right? From other worlds?”

“Naturally.”

“Any advice for the new girl?”

They gurgle-laugh. One hand taps their wrist computer.

“I’m adding five points to my estimate of your intelligence. Be careful about that. Slaves that look too smart usually attract the wrong kind of attention. But look, the imperial harem has existed as an institution for over a thousand years. They know what they’re doing. Remember that.”

I feel a cold shiver down my back. I try to smile. “Okay. Thanks.”

They shrug with two sets of shoulders. “Be a shame to waste you. Oh. And watch out for the station captain. He thinks of himself as a connoisseur. You breathe me?”

The last word’s strangely soft, like it whispers through a crack in their professional mask. The pustules on their face swell and shrink, swell and shrink.

I nod. “I breathe you.”

“That’s a smart monkey.” They pat me on the cheek. “Hate to have to do this all over again with a new batch.”

A phant guard waddles in and takes hold of the transport collar the doctor fits, gently, around my neck. I’m barefoot and naked as they lead me back to the hanger. There are three dropships on the floor; the closest one is open.

In front of a handful of soldiers, incuding one or two species I don’t recognize, a phant in a very fancy uniform is molesting a human.

Phants are heavy-worlders, so they’re built like trucks with four legs. This one’s even more of a fat, wrinkly bastard than usual. He could probably pop my skull like an egg under one hoof. His boots are steel buckets with rubber soles. His single primary arm is a long, thick trunk with three root-like fingers.

It runs up the waist of a naked human woman. It’s Gemma, the other prisoner from the dropship. Her hair’s a mess; she shivers before him, stripped like me. Her cute little cock dangles on a shaved crotch. Oh. That explains why I was able to make her cum so easily. Her breasts are small; they twist painfully in the captain’s secondary hands, the little pincers at the end of thin, knobby stalks that unfold from his chest.

He makes a flappy, frustrated sound. “A bit small and brittle for me. And so few holes. But then again…”

His trunk coils around her neck, forces her to the ground. Her legs cling together. His pincers grasp her chin. Under his dark grey uniform there’s a long, thick bulge running down his belly.

“It has been a long time since my last shore leave.” Two of his eyes flick my way, for just a moment, before they fall back on Gemma. They’re black spots. Unreadable. But I wouldn’t want them on me. Not like that.

He murmurs, “And we do have a spare.”

She’s frozen under his touch. Her fingers are clenched at her side. The only parts of her that are moving are her eyes; they shake in my direction. If she wasn’t so terrified, she’d be sobbing. Her lips move slowly, quivering, as she mouths, *help me*, *please.*

What can I do?

–> Keep my head down. She’ll be fine. She’ll be fine.

–> “Oh, but captain, wouldn’t you rather have me instead?”

–> “Get your hands off her you damned, dirty pig!”

[Poll your response on the master post!](https://www.reddit.com/r/pollgames/comments/pr9aff/that_time_i_joined_an_alien_harem_chapter_4_the/)

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/pr9c7e/that_time_i_joined_an_alien_harem_chapter_4_the

2 comments

Comments are closed.