Verion, a night creature, returns home and finds out that he is pregnant with some
unexpected surprises. The Butthuggers have impregnated him. This is the tale tail of how
romance and pregancy is possible with alien creatures.
Alterations: Change pokemon context, so No Lugia mention or pokemon mention.
—
Things just hadn’t been the same since Verion had been gang-raped by aliens in the
hold of a sunken ship.
The creature had returned to the wreck of the Frederick III three days after the encounter
with the butthuggers, only to find… jewels. Copper wire. Precious gems and valuable scrap of
all kinds. Even after his client took some off the top, Verion wouldn’t have to work for months.
He should have been over the moon about it, but all the way home from the final tally
session Verion couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. Driving home was like piloting
a submarine with the top down, both in the summer humidity and the fog that refused to lift from
his waking moments. Even if it weren’t overcast, he thought the flowers and trees around his
house would look less colorful. And he hadn’t slept well since…
His asshole puckered involuntarily. Verion’s knuckles went white on the steering wheel as he
parked.
He shook his head as he left his car, and entered his house. The things had been
nowhere to be found when he’d brought back a team. If he really thought about it, how much of
his average day did he commit to memory? How could he answer for the places his mind went
to when work got menial, tedious, and repetitive?
There was a part of him that was perfectly willing to believe that the whole ordeal with
the butthuggers had been a daydream from some hitherto unknown part of himself. He’d often
been glad that he didn’t have certain parts of his brain that lit up at… certain concepts. This one
was new.
Nothing for it but to knock back an Holly Berry Nog cocktail, take a cold shower, and
sleep it off. It was far from the first time he’d had bored, intrusive thoughts. That they’d intruded
on him… well, life was full of surprises as intense as they were fleeting.
His place was small but richly furnished, brimming with all the fruits of a life of diving,
exploring, trading, and hunting – skulls of ancient predators here, exquisite Persian rugs there,
and everywhere something glittering to catch the eye. He climbed the metal spiral staircase in
the far corner, emerging into his loft with a mighty yawn. The juice of the Holly Berry Nog
already had his head buzzing as he stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower.
Verion luxuriated in the hot water as the bathroom filled with steam, casting his mind
back to his bank balance. The spoils from the Frederick III could send him to Orre for the first
month of his vacation, and to some pretty lavish places at that. Plenty of gambling to be had in
the Under, lots of digging near Golden Valley, and a lively party scene in Diamond. Diamond
District, the glittering oasis in the desert. He thought of swimming through the clear water, letting
himself soar through the pools, untouched by the sun streaming down from above, the chill
sinking into his skin, his body opening up for the water and its denizens to fill to bursting with–
Verion’s eyes shot open. He pressed his thumb and fingers to his temples and took a
few deep breaths to steady himself, his head spinning from the thickening steam. As he lowered
his hand, he abruptly brushed up against something velvety yet firm.
It was his cock, of course, standing at full attention and bobbing gently with each
movement, long and yet fat in its heavy coating of foreskin.
Well, he didn’t believe in wasting an erection. But jerking off in the shower went from a
welcome surprise to a race against his own subconscious. Deep down he knew what he’d been
daydreaming about. Verion tried to focus solely on his hand, his foreskin, their motion against
his length, massaging him as if he were fucking a pocket pussy attached to himself.
But even the all-banishing tightening of his balls and throbbing of his cock as he came
couldn’t quite keep the long, jointed legs from clawing at the edges of his mind.
He sighed, cleaned up, opened the window, and put the fan on to clear the air. He struck
a few poses in the mirror, his softening cock simply the cherry on top of the slab of muscle that
was his abs, his mighty swimmer’s thighs, the towering chest broadened by thousands of hours
diving, running, digging for forgotten wealth.
He was the king of the sea and sky. He was a treasure hunter for hire, yesterday’s
castoffs and caches funding today’s comfort. He could have whatever, whoever he wanted.
So why did he want this?
Verion pinched himself very hard and toweled off. It was just a side effect of being on top
of the world, financially secure, with time enough to pursue just about any earthly pleasure. That
sort of thing naturally made a guy curious about the unearthly ones.
Curious. That was all. He’d already found exactly what he was looking for.
Hadn’t he?
–
It was one of those nights where Verion woke up halfway to dawn, completely alert as if
he’d slept five more hours than he actually had. The night was warm enough that Verion hadn’t
needed to cover up. A heavy sleeper that he was, he hadn’t disturbed the sheets with any
tossing and turning. It was like he just didn’t belong there.
Staring at the murky ceiling didn’t do shit. Fifteen minutes of it not doing shit convinced
him of that. He stretched and arched his back as if trying to remind his muscles of a time when
they’d been more tired.
Fuck. He could have gotten up and walked two miles down the road to the 24-hour
convenience store for nachos if he wanted. But he didn’t want it. He didn’t know what he
wanted.
Not even his cock responded to some idle stroking. It was stubbornly soft and no matter
what he thought of, he just couldn’t bring himself to be horny at three in the morning.
Verion sighed and threw his head back into his pillow. What did people do at three in the
morning? There had to be something he could focus on to lull himself to sleep.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he decided to visually trace the outline of every
object in his bedroom from left to right. Maybe he could bore himself to sleep. He wasn’t really
one for mindfulness or whatever calming woo people were into these days, but he did find it
relaxing to just zone out. He could focus each in their turn on the hundred tiny sensations that
made up his surroundings. The gentle rustling of the trees in the wind, the silent rotation of the
ceiling fan, and the tiny clicking and skittering sounds coming from the bathroom.
Wait. What the fuck was in the bathroom?
Verion groaned, remembering the window he’d left open. It wasn’t the right time of year
for a cicada swarm, but there was something small crawling around in there.
He turned on the lamp, throwing shadows all around for whatever it was to hide in. No,
positive thoughts, he reminded himself. He hated dealing with bugs at night, but it was always
satisfying to crush them. Made him feel like a ninja.
He was across the room in a few slow, deliberate strides, rolling a newspaper as tight in
his hand as it would roll. Hearing the tiny patter of something in his bathroom was like feeling
whatever it was crawling along his tail, up and down his spine. He almost felt like showering
once he was done with the thing – it sounded bigger than the usual pest.
Verion laid one hand on the bathroom door, freezing as he heard the skittering come to a
stop. Did it sense him? Was it even now fixing however many eyes it had on the door, planning
its next move, laying eggs in a panicked drive to reproduce before it was too late?
Diving, climbing, and spelunking had taught Verion to act deliberately and decisively, and
imagining what horrors lurked in his bathroom wasn’t helping him on either front.
Silently and quickly – screaming “Die, motherfucker!” in his head – he whipped the
bathroom door open, stepped in, and raised the newspaper, casting his gaze around for the
intruder.
He found it right next to his shower drain and nearly dropped the newspaper on the
still-damp bath mat.
Roundish shape. Six legs – no, eight, he reminded himself. One very suggestively
shaped tail arcing over its delicate body.
It hadn’t been a dream, and Verion knew it.
Verion froze, suddenly abundantly aware of every part of himself. He’d been fucked in
every hole by these things, and the memories of each sensation were dredging themselves up
like parasites bursting from his limbs. At any moment he expected to be swarmed. Just checking
behind him for more would leave this one free to jump on him and start humping. How the hell
had this one found him?
Seconds passed without answer or action. Ten. Thirty. A minute crept by, butthugger and
Verion each waiting for the other’s next move.
It clicked then for Verion that the tables had turned. The butthuggers had overwhelmed
him because they’d been underwater; because he’d been in their house, open to attack from all
sides. On land it was different. You could step on something on land.
So why couldn’t he swing the newspaper?
The thought of smashing the butthugger was nauseating enough – would it explode, or
would it just lie there like any other corpse? Neither prospect appealed to Verion.
But neither could he just let it be. He felt a stirring at his crotch, his foreskin pulling
slightly back as his cock recognized his bizarre lover.
“No. Uh-uh. This shit’s too weird for this time of night.” Verion pointed at the open
window. The butthugger raised itself up a little higher on its legs. “I’m not gonna hurt you, but
you can’t stay here. If you crawl back out that window we can both forget this ever happened.”
The thing tilted to one side as if cocking its head. Of course, it didn’t understand.
Verion sighed. It didn’t need to. He turned off the lights and slid back into his room,
tossing the newspaper aside as he went. Maybe it would get the hint and go away. Maybe it had
been a very detailed dream after all.
Hell, maybe it wouldn’t even follow Verion through the bathroom door he’d left cracked.
Life was full of exciting possibilities.
–
Verion sighed into his pillow, lying facedown and trying to shut out the rest of the world.
All that had changed was his persistent half-erection from his brief encounter with the thing in
his bathroom. Every time he closed his eyes, he’d drift back to that sexy afternoon – no, not
sexy, insane – and the gangbang would stick in his mind like sand in his wetsuit.
The thought crossed his mind that if he hadn’t taken the job to explore the Frederick III,
he might actually be able to get to sleep. He never would have found the butthuggers. He never
would have been swarmed by them, fucked by them.
He rolled his hips into the bed and moaned. He never would have been impregnated by
them. The thought should have repulsed him, but every toe on his digitigrade feet curled at the
memories, the sensations, the awakened desires. He’d been filled in a way that he’d never
considered possible, would in fact have recoiled at, still did recoil at… but that didn’t make him
any less hard. Nothing else could bring his cock to life quite as quickly as the thought of his
abdomen being stuffed full, his asshole burning from the stretch of an egg after egg pushing into
his bowels.
Verion’s hips ached. He shifted to the side, letting his cock spring up with a thump
against his abs. The memories of his alien abuse had reduced him to grinding against his bed,
trying to get back that endless chain of orgasms those things had forced upon him. The gentle
brush of his sheets across his cock gradually grew damp and warm as precum soaked the
sheets, as he wore a crude cleft in the cloth to rut in.
It wasn’t enough, could never be enough. Verion edged and edged, trudging up and
down the lower slopes of his pleasure, hardly daring to surge higher for fear that he’d lose
control. No orgasm could be as satisfying as what he’d experienced being fucked in almost
every hole, penetrated, bred by these beings. He was utterly alone in his desperate drive for the
fulfillment, a dull throb up and down his length a cruel imitation of what he’d tasted.
Until he wasn’t.
Verion’s heel came alive with a soft tap, then a gentle press, then two, then three. It
didn’t take a genius to guess what had skittered up onto his bed and was tentatively prodding
him as if asking for permission.
He didn’t say yes. He didn’t say no. He buried his face in the pillow and summoned up
the memory of the dive from the fragments of it tickling his leg. His tail swung gently back and
forth, the spines along his back stood firm, and his cock burrowed into the soaking sheets as he
silently, privately begged the thing to violate him again.
The butthugger was out of its element, a little clumsier in the gravity of dry land, but it
made its way cautiously upward nonetheless. Its legs prickled along Verion’s calf… then his
thigh… then his tail, closer and closer to its prize.
Verion moaned as the thing crept curiously down his tail. Surely it couldn’t be teasing
him. It didn’t have the intelligence for that. And if it couldn’t tease him, it certainly couldn’t
understand his wordless groan of frustration.
But all in good time, all in good time. The thing had made its way to the flared tip and
was prodding experimentally at the fins when Verion lifted his tail and curled it assward.
The butthugger seemed to respond to that. It hopped from Verion’s tail onto his ass. Like
a switch had been flipped, it began to stroke one leg along verion’s crack.
Now the gloves were off. Verion canted his hips back, digging his cock into the bed and
presenting his ass for the creature to toy with. It traced the inside of his crack, first left and then
right. Verion’s impatient grunt turned into a squeal as the thing prodded at his asshole halfway
through.
The thing poked into him – no more than a fraction of an inch into his ass, barely
breaching the white ring, just scratching the surface of Verion’s dark desire. They shared no
common tongue, no communication but what their bodies expressed, but after a minute this
served to crudely bridge the gap between their species. Verion fell into a rhythm with the
butthugger’s experimental fucking, spread his legs, and relaxed for the thing’s entry.
His alien lover seemed content with rimming him. It was all Verion could do not to reach
back, grab it, and stuff it as far into his ass as it would go. He briefly wondered if the thing had
been present for his gangbang, if it knew how to pleasure him the way the others had. Maybe it
was new, the product of someone else being swarmed and used.
Maybe it was even one of the ones he’d given birth to.
That last thought sickened and yet aroused him, disgust coiling in his stomach and
reaching into his cock to keep it hard, but not fulfilled; throbbing, but not cumming.
Almost at the moment, he had this thought, he gave a great shuddering gasp as the
butthugger slid its tail properly into his ass. It felt infinite, reached parts of him he didn’t even
know existed, the prehensile limb putting them to a better purpose.
Verion drew his knees up, lifting his ass as if presenting himself for a much larger lover,
cradling the butthugger with his own tail to keep it in place. No need – the thing spread its legs
and clamped onto his cheeks, sliding into a stable position. A sensation like spreading fingertips
across a kneecap swept over Verion’s lower body, exquisite numbness wiping away all else but
the questing pseudo-cock.
He could feel his balls tightening, the pulse in his cock quickening. The timing of the
butthugger rubbing against his prostate was exquisite. His asshole convulsed around the thing’s
tail, and the first hot jet of his orgasm was boiling just above his taint.
And then the sheets quivered, the bed shook, and muffled skitters from either side of
Verion sent him over the edge with their promise.
With his face buried in the pillow, Verion could only imagine how many had swarmed
onto his bed. It could have been three, it could have been twelve, drawn to his tryst with their
companion like ants to scent-marked food. There was no counting on his condition. He could
feel them scuttling below him, crawling over his limbs, climbing onto his back.
He felt a spindly figure hop onto his cock, one enterprising butthugger having opted to
jerk him off right as he started cumming. It scrabbled for purchase on his prodigious foreskin,
eight separate limbs massaging him up and down as he sprayed rope after rope of cum into the
wet spot on the bed. The dull spatter was quickly joined by the sucking sound of at least one
hungry alien lapping up his seed.
The meal deprived it of the opportunity the one on his cock quickly took. He was spent
after his orgasm, his manhood thick yet relaxed, but his heart jumped into his throat at the
feeling of his cockhole being prodded by one of the things. Surely there was no way it could do
what he thought it was doing.
Life was full of surprises.
The butthugger’s tail was as malleable as it was flexible. It compressed and slithered into
Verion’s urethra, pressing itself against his inner walls and penetrating him in a new and
impossible way.
Verion bit his pillow. He’d never been filled from this side before. Intrusive thoughts in
that direction had only ever made his skin crawl. Now every inch of him was burning for it. The
butthugger was settling onto his cock now, having worked its legs between the folds of his
foreskin, and it was pumping its whole body up and down his length, jerking him off as if milking
him for his semen, a constant, self-sustaining motion inside and out. Already he felt himself
stiffening, throbbing like his refractory period didn’t even count.
Verion undulated his body, submitting utterly to the swarm. The butthuggers at his ass
and his cock were the ringleaders, priming him for a continuous full-body orgasm that had his
skin singing as the others roamed all over him.
He came again and again, and from then on not a single drop of cum escaped to wet the
bed. The butthugger’s tail formed a perfect seal inside his cock, vacuuming up his seed, feeding
relentlessly as it extracted every salty morsel.
There was only a slight burn at either end when the butthuggers started feeding little
bulges back into him. Verion’s abdomen and crotch grew heavier over the course of several
minutes, making him spread his knees to distribute the weight more easily, and he could feel his
gut bulging when he reached a hand back to confirm the insane repeat of the thing he thought
he’d dreamed underwater.
There was a part of him that still thought he might be dreaming. It disappeared under a
wave of blissful exhaustion as his eighth orgasm took hold of him.
–
Light slipped its grip into Verion’s eyelids and pried them open. He was alone, his
insectoid lovers nowhere to be found, the events of the previous night fading as quickly as he
could reach for them in his memory.
It felt like the worst hangover of his life. His mouth was dry, his limbs ached, and the
room spun when he rolled over to stretch.
That was when he noticed his pregnant belly.
It curved out from him like a shallow grave, the fruit of his violation slumbering within him
as proof of the forbidden dream that wasn’t.
His asshole burned and his cock ached as he felt himself up, brushing away crusty fluids
from his holes, out of the folds of his foreskin. Fuck, even his sack was swollen. His testicles
were sharing space with little round objects of similar size, and it didn’t take too much
imagination to guess at what they were.
He was caught halfway between throwing up and jerking off when his body decided to
split the difference.
His bowels convulsed and he grew hard, little spasms rippling from deep inside him to
the center of his asshole and the tip of his cock. The mass inside Verion was shifting, whether
he liked it or not, and he realized unconsciously that all he could do was make it easier.
He took up his kneeling position from before, spreading his knees as wide as they would
go and holding his cock straight. The contractions started weak, slow, and over the ensuing
minutes grew stronger, and more frequent, robbing verion of any sense of the passage of time
outside of their onset.
Some sense of compliance festering at the base of his brain snuck up and seized
Verion, commanding him to bear down and push in time with his contractions when his quarry
fell into its ready position. Like a puzzle piece snapping into its proper place, the Lugia felt the
first of many round objects pass through his abused asshole as he flexed his repurposed
muscles. The slight lightening of the load combined with a reward signal the things sent to his
brain, eliciting an involuntary moan, sending a frisson of pleasure into his chest, the back of his
head, and especially his cock.
The miniature orgasm helped propel another mass down his shaft, and his eyes crossed
as he shot a decidedly different load into the wet spot on his bed. He bent his neck to see what
he was pushing out of his shaft.
It was just in time to feel his erection expanding, to see another black ball spreading his
cockhole wide as it emerged with another orgasmic spike. Another. Another. Little bulges down
his length filled it out like the chewy center of a cockolate confection.
He shut his eyes and gave himself over to the cycle of contract and push, the heat and
numbness in his hips, his ass, his cock, the sense of fulfillment at passing his children through
his most private spaces.
As luck would have it, the sunlight had moved from his eyes to the center of his bed by
the time he’d finished laying the butthuggers’ eggs. They were lying in the wet spot in the middle
of Verion’s sheets, the sun picking up where Verion’s body had left off. Thirty? Forty? Who
knew?
Verion sagged into his pillows, sprawled into his mattress, his legs encircling the eggs
he’d laid. Verion was empty, and exhausted, his brain reeling from the full night of fucking and
the morning of labor. The endorphins from giving birth to the butthuggers’ children bounced
around his head and sent him blissfully off to sleep.
His tail curled around the eggs while he slumbered, pushing them into a protected pile.
They would hatch soon enough, and when they hatched they would be hungry, and Verion’s
body was ready to feed them when that happened. Semen and sweat were food and drink to
these curious creatures, Verion’s foreskin and rectum their bed, and their lover. He’d proven
himself a perfectly hospitable host, and they would reward him for it night after night, generation
after generation
