Sherlock Holmes didn't believe in aliens, but when one was leaning over him he found had to rethink his position on the matter. He had almost gotten away but was caught only a few steps from the door. He had fought viciously, managing to clip a few of them before a thick tentacle had looped around his throat and cut off his oxygen supply. They had learned from that first and only attempt at escape. Now they had him strapped to the dissection table with his arms and legs stretched to each corner. He couldn't flex his extremities no matter how hard he tried. He kept trying to focus on the aliens shifting around him, but his concentration wasn't cooperating and his muscles felt sluggish and heavy. They must have given him alien drugs; some type of sedative and a muscle relaxant so they could experiment on his human body. Blinking rapidly as an alien moved through his field of vision, he observed what he could through the drug induced haze. The flesh changed color between blue and beige; sometimes the beige had a pattern on it. The momentary thought that the beige and pattern looked familiar drifted away as soon as it came. Sometimes the aliens had blond fur on them. Other times, they sprouted miniature umbrellas along the flesh like freckles or hair.
Where was John? Did they leave him at the flat? Was he here? Where was here? Was he hurt? Were they experimenting on him as well? Questions and thoughts rambled choppily through his brain as chills racked his body. Sweat was streaming down his temples and pooling on the table below him. What were they going to do to him? Take samples from various parts of his body probably. Test his reaction to temperatures and other variables. His scientific mind churned out multiple experiments that could be performed on a living and relatively healthy homo sapien sapien. There was-
His lungs seized in surprise as multiple tentacles trailed down his back and settled on his arse. The tentacles must secrete some sort of liquid because one of them slickly circled his hole while the others held his cheeks apart. Without any preamble, it thrust deeply into him and his head snapped back at the sudden sensation.
"Guh! Wha...hmmm...doi-"
Sherlock's vocal chords failed him as the tentacle thrust in and out before more joined in. The viscous liquid started to trickle down his perineum and over his bollocks. He couldn't stop himself as his hips started thrusting against the examination table. A new flush raced over his body as more tentacles stretched his hole. The burn almost nonexistent as his muscles were too weak to provide any resistance. Thankfully it didn't feel like the tentacles were bothering with his prostate which was a small mercy.
Perhaps the aliens were only interested in human arousal, he thought blearily as the tentacles slowly retracted. He took a deep breath, relaxing against the table for a moment before he felt something new press against his arse hole. This was no longer a slithering tentacle but a muscular one, thick and unrelenting as it pierced him deeply. He felt his arousal surge to new heights. He loved to bottom for John and greatly enjoyed any toys he brought to bed with them. But to bottom now for an alien species was a whole new experience. His scientific mind fumbled over the concept of interspecies intercourse but the rest of his body was surprisingly all for it. He wanted to know how long the tentacle was; did it swell before penetration or did it swell afterwards?
It continued to slide into his rectum and his inner muscles flexed repeatedly as it settled deeper. A cry was forced from between his lips when he suddenly felt a swelling begin just inside his ring. So I can't force it out, his mind supplied and he moaned at the realization. The swelling increased until it was just on the good side of uncomfortable. He felt impaled, realizing then that this would be continuing for an extended length of time. The mating habits of this alien species could be more prolonged than anything else he knew of.
Unwilling to resist his human instincts, he thrust against the table, whimpering as his muscles flexed around the appendage. It was so thick, firm and immovable it made him almost delirious. His hands and legs were bound so there was no way he was getting loose, all he could do was lay here and take whatever they gave him or did to him.
"Yesssss….your body will do nicely for the young ones."
It suddenly got even better.
He felt something easing through the tentacle, the flesh bulging as it moved, pressing against his walls. It pressed firmly against and then slid right over his prostate, a keening scream erupting from his throat at the sensation. Before he could get his breath back, he felt another bulge easing up his rectum.
Alien eggs.
He was gasping and moaning desperately now as more eggs filled him. His abdomen began swelling with the multiple eggs and his hips couldn't stop thrusting. Pressing his forehead against the table, he began panting as a slightly warmed liquid began to fill in around the eggs inside him.
"Yessss...please...fill me with your eggs...fuck me like I'm your human whore," he moaned, rolling his spine the best he could with his arms and legs stretched as they were.
The liquid rolled in his abdomen and around the tentacle as his muscles flexed. He was so close. Just one more; an egg slid past his prostate, sparking off his orgasm. The gasp and whine was loud even to him as the intense orgasm rolled through him. All his muscles clenched and he felt the eggs inside him shifting, causing a whimper to catch in his throat. The aftershocks shook his body until finally he sagged limply against the table. The thick tentacle remained in place as he slipped into unconsciousness.
(!)(!)(!)
Every once in a while, he would regain some awareness. He knew the tentacle was still in place and there were still eggs rolling around in him. Sometimes the pressure was the same, other times it was less. The initial deposit seemed to be the heaviest, now it was mainly fluids they were pumping through the tentacle. A nutritive solution to feed the eggs for successful gestation in a human host, his brain supplied and he hummed in pleased response. The aliens still hovered around, still planting the occasional egg in him. He now remained in a perpetual state of elevated arousal. The tentacle constantly pressed against his prostate, his shifting making it rub against the sensitive gland. The repeated orgasms were exhausting and he found himself sleeping deeply between them. He wondered how much data the aliens had by now. Data on the average homo sapien sapien male's refractory period, amount of seminal ejaculate, body temperature during arousal; not to mention variants in blood chemistry because they had drawn his blood too. They had adjusted the table slightly so that now his arse was elevated to keep the eggs pressed against his inner walls, ideally situated for implantation. His arse was now on display to every alien that came by or wanted to make a deposit.
During a brief moment of awareness, the aliens started to perform something that he actually didn't enjoy. He was happily drifting in and out of consciousness when he suddenly felt as though he was dunked into a deep bath of icy gel. Gasping, he weakly tried to escape the surrounding cold as his mind desperately tried to understand what was going on. They are cryonically chilling or freezing your body during the gestation period for their offspring, his mind supplied drolly as he tried to twist away. No. Didn't they know about hypothermia? His body couldn't tolerate prolonged cold. His body would die...the offspring would die. Not if the offspring were to consume your frozen body for sustenance or feed off you as your body withers. He was whimpering now, his struggles weakening; the end was coming. The cold was seeping to his bones.
"Nnggg….no….the offspring...you'll kill 'em…kill me," he moaned brokenly, rolling his forehead against the table.
Suddenly a tentacle slid under his raised hips and gripped his half hard cock. The coldness around him and the warmth wrapping around his cock was shocking. His hips stuttered weakly as the tentacle flexed it grip, the secretions slicking the way. A smaller tentacle wrapped around the head of his cock and a slick glide down the shaft sparked the lights behind his eyelids. Panting softly against the table, he felt the oh so familiar arousal churning low in his abdomen. The warm, thick tentacle that seemed to be a permanent fixture is his rectum pulsed steadily against his prostate and rumbling moans were his only reaction. The pulsing and squeezing working in tandem as his hips thrust forward, drove him mercilessly towards his orgasm. Well, if this was to be his last sensation before becoming an alien offspring incubator...he could work with that.
His orgasm sucked him into the silent cool darkness.
(!)(!)(!)
Sherlock groaned, bringing up a hand to block the insistent sunlight that seemed determined to pierce through his visual cortex and stab his brain. Rolling onto his side, his hand shifted to press against his forehead as he eventually managed to lay on his back. Staring absently past his arm and at the ceiling of his bedroom, he struggled to make sense of his dreams. His gaze eventually came to focus on the wrist that was within his line of sight. He lowered his arm and reached up with his other hand to run his thumb over the bruise currently wrapping around his wrist. Then he realized that there was an identical bruise on the other wrist. Brows furrowing in confusion, he dropped both arms and slowly pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. He was clad in a pair of pajama bottoms and a ratty tee shirt; his normal sleep wear. Hesitating for a moment, he stuck one leg out and carefully pulled up the pajama leg to view the bruising wrapping around his ankle also. He didn't bother looking at the other ankle, certain it bore the same markings.
Letting the fabric go like it had burned him, Sherlock glanced around the room but could find nothing out of sorts. The room was the average degree of clean that it was kept it at; the sheets were clean and fresh smelling. Pulling his shirt up slightly, he stared at his flat abdomen and rubbed the palm of his hand over the pale flesh. Pressing deeper, he didn't feel anything extra or out of place before letting the shirt fall over his hand and wrist. Slowly standing and snagging his dressing gown, he pulled it on while walking out of the bedroom. He could hear the faint sounds of the telly on in the sitting room and the slight sounds of activity. Emerging from the kitchen, he saw John sitting in his chair by the roaring fireplace and the telly on BBC2, University Challenge. John flipped the pages of a paperback in his lap as Sherlock looked around the lived in flat.
"John?"
The older man jumped slightly in surprise and twisted sharply in his chair to look at Sherlock.
"Hey sleepyhead. How are you feeling?" he asked, laying the book on his knee.
Sherlock paused for a moment, evaluating his body and its signals. A little achy but nothing out of the ordinary. He was actually surprised that he felt better than normal. Well, except for the sore wrists and ankles.
"Uh...fine...I guess. Just...worn out. Long case." Sherlock wasn't sure if there was a case or not but he needed time to think.
Closing the book and gripping it in one hand, he settled in his chair to better look at him. John observed him for a moment before raising an eyebrow as he replied.
"Well I didn't see you at all yesterday. Last night you came back to the flat a little after 2100. Grunted at me and went straight to your room to go, I assume, to sleep. Must have been a good case."
Sherlock turned to look back towards his bedroom before looking back at John. His recollections weren't the clearest but his memories indicated he was in an unknown location for much longer than just the night. Huffing softly in confusion, he walked into the kitchen to start a cup of tea.
"You sure you're okay?" John called towards his back.
"I had the weirdest dream last night," he called back as he started the kettle.
"Oh really? What about?"
Sherlock was so occupied trying to find his mug that he didn't hear the slight wobble in John's voice. "I dreamt I was being bred like a bloody brood mare. There was a tentacle up my arse and all the other aliens used it to make deposits in me."
"Hunh, interesting. Guess that's what happens when you're a genius. You come up with some very vivid dreams."
Nodding with an indistinct 'hmm', he stared at the kettle while waiting for it to boil. He didn't see John biting the spine of his book hard enough to leave the imprint of his teeth, as he desperately tried to restrain his giggles. When Sherlock came back into the sitting room with his tea, John was calmly reading again while the telly mumbled in the back ground.
(!)(!)(!)
Two and a half weeks later, Sherlock finally got over his sudden phobia of sex and pinned John to the bedroom door in a heated snog. He absolutely refused to let the memories of that thick tentacle ruin his time with John. The thick tentacle and multiple eggs being deposited deep within him; pressing against his inner walls; pulsing as each egg nestled inside him. Groaning into John's mouth, he tilted his hips sharply to press against John and his similiar erection.
"Hmmm...urgh...I have a ne-new toy for us," John mumbled, tilting his head back as Sherlock licked and bit at his neck.
"Anything John. As long...as long as I get you at the end," he breathlessly replied, opening the door and shuffling John through the doorway.
They tumbled into the bed, tussling until John was stretched out atop him. Bracing his elbows beside Sherlock's head, John thrust against him and breathed in the resulting groan. He wrapped his long legs around John, pulling his groin more tightly against him.
"I...I just have to ask you something first," John murmured as one of his hands slid across the bed and under the nearby pillow.
"Hmmm?"
John pulled back enough that his lips could brush against Sherlock's. "Are you going to be my human whore tonight?"
Sherlock's eyes popped open in shock at the words murmured against his lips. Swiftly twisting his head at the flash of pale blue at the edges of his vision, he saw the oddest looking dildo they had ever brought into their bedroom. Not even hesitating, he shoved John away from him before rolling off the foot of the bed to stand at the opposite side of the room.
"What the bloody hell is that?"
John was curled into a tight ball on the bed, rocking steadily back and forth and giggling hysterically. The monstrosity sat on the covers next to him. It took a few moments for John to get his breath back to answer, wiping tears from his eyes as he spoke.
"This is the ovipositor," he wheezed, slowly uncurling his body and sitting up in the bed.
"The what?"
Sherlock really wasn't sure he was comfortable approaching the bed with that thing on it. It was about two inches in diameter and the length of John's forearm. It had rather life-like ridges along its length and didn't look as firm as Sherlock remembered it. The base was fairly large and the head was actually two thick flaps that curled towards each other. Sherlock could easily imagine how each flap would flare to allow something to pass through and into the recipient. Gasping shallowly, he remembered clearly how it felt as each egg was forced into him; the material of the ovipositor pressing against his prostate and walls. His knees wobbled causing him to lean back against the wall.
"The ovipositor. I originally bought it for its intended use but then you got sick," John explained and glanced over at the toy.
"Sick?"
John glanced back at him and nodded before clarity finally came to him. "You don't remember any of it?"
"I thought I was abducted and being fucked by aliens, John!"
"Wow, when you hallucinate, you really go all out."
Sherlock flushed. Realizing that John was going to be sticking around, Sherlock had thought it prudent to inform the doctor that he has a rather bad propensity to hallucinate when very sick. He never thought it would actually be relevant; he never got sick, let alone sick enough to hallucinate.
"You had a bad urinary tract infection. It came on fast one night and was probably brewing for a few days prior to that. The original symptoms were probably overlooked because you don't listen to your body when you should."
Sherlock rolled his eyes at the familiar argument.
"Yes, yes, I should take better care of my transport. Go on."
Snorting as he rolled his eyes, John continued, "You woke up with a fever, mumbling about needing to get away. I put in an IV to administer fluids and medications but you ripped it out; ripped it out again with your teeth when I tried to restrain you. So, I figured this might be the best way."
"To fuck me with a...with a...with a ovipositor," Sherlock managed to clarify.
A smile twitched across John's lips as he nodded. "Yes. I restrained you, inserted it and administered medications and fluids which were absorbed into your bloodstream via the rectal walls."
Here John flushed slightly and his gaze dropped to look at the toy before looking up again at Sherlock. "The fever seemed to have heightened your sensitivity to...everything. I did not expect how...aroused you might be from the act. Nor could I have any idea about the hallucination you had streaming through your mind. After your first orgasm, you fell into a deep sleep and actually seemed obedient...docile with everything afterwards, so I let it continue."
"And helped me along at one point if I remember correctly."
Sherlock clearly remembered the warm tentac-hand that helped him out during the…
"I imagined an icy gel bath."
John shifted on the bed and shrugged. "Your temperature went higher than I was comfortable with and I needed to cool you down. I draped a cool towel over you. You started sobbing about dying offspring and I decided to get your mind off it. After that you fell asleep and your fever broke; I released the restraints and cleaned you up."
Sherlock bit his bottom lip, organising his memories and adding the facts of reality to everything. "The eggs?"
"Empty gelatin capsules. I mixed the doses of what you needed and administered them along with the fluids."
The size of the capsules didn't coincide with his memory but the fever haze most likely exaggerated his senses. He was certain it did not exaggerate the pleasure he experienced and recalled. The memories now held an important component though: John. John easing the monstrosity into his body. Watching as Sherlock thrust against the bed mindlessly; imagining that he was carrying alien offspring. He should be mortified to have been seen like that, but this was John, the man he trusted above all others. No, he was far from embarrassed right now.
Bracing his upper back against the wall, he thrust his pelvis forward and rubbed firmly against the tight front of his trousers. Slowly easing his tongue out, he ran it over his bottom lip before easing it back in, leaving his mouth open to pant.
"I'll be your human whore, John," he rumbled with a breathy moan.
John's eyes visibly dilated as he rocked up on his knees, the ovipositor rolling down the dip in the mattress and bumping against John. Sherlock surged away from the wall and managed to strip all his cloths off between the wall and the bed. Tackling John to bed, he clutched at John's shirt with one hand while grabbing the ovipositor with his other. Feeling it in his hand sent new thrills through his loins and he moaned as John's tongue surged into his mouth.
"It comes with its own gelatin eggs," John groaned, hands gripping Sherlock's arse hard enough to bruise.
Sherlock bit at John's neck before trailing his tongue up to the delicate ear. "I want you to tie me down. Ease that thing into me and stuff me full of eggs. Then I want you to fuck me and fill me with your own eggs."
"I'll get the cuffs and lube."
(!)(!)(!)
MyFirstistheFourth and I were actually joking about what you could find on the Internet. The next day she found an article and sent it to me. My plot bunnies started breeding like mad and this is what happened. Yeah, pure brain candy. If you're interested in the article, please message me and I'll send it to you. Or enjoy the alien smut. Oh, and this is not a valid medical treatment/procedure so please don't try it.