The alien crossed over the room, sat next to the table, and produced a tool in one of her many hands. Peter couldn't help but focus on the tool as it very much looked like a scalpel, glinting in the light. Although Peter couldn’t focus on much. His eyes were quickly adapting to the light overhead, the darkness of the rest of the room, and being conscious in general, but it wasn’t an immediate process.

He had expected little green men, or at the very least gray. These were nothing like what he expected. Although he couldn't see the other alien in the room clearly, the one that had seated right next to the table on which he was paralyzed was very well lit by the light above the table. Peter was a little shocked to see how humanoid she looked. Though she would never be mistaken for human, of black and white picture of her face might. She had a head, like a human, complete with nose and eyes, hair, a mouth, lips, everything in the human place. Most of the rest of her physique was similarly human; a rather large chest, narrowing waist, widening hips, thighs knees and legs.

Her eyes, however, were a deep black void, no pupil or sclera to mention. Her hair, shaven on one side of her head, was white, like fine shimmering sand. And her skin was the deep blue of some exotic butterfly's wings.

Further separating her from humanity were her four arms; each pair matching, and of similar size, just two pairs. Each arm ended in a hand that had seven total digits, five fingers and two thumbs opposite each other.

The last, and most telling, of her alien features was her size. Even laying on the table, unable to move as he was, Peter could tell that she was larger than anyone he'd ever met. Larger than anyone he'd ever heard of.

The difference in size between Peter and the colossal woman sitting over him became even more apparent as she grabbed his wrist and elevated it with one hand bringing the blade in the other hand toward it. Her fingers wrapped around his entire wrist more than completely, and his hand tiny when held in hers.

"Associate, please come observe." The alien woman cutting his clothing away requested in English. "These receptacles have drifted from the original seed design considerably. The asymmetry of the lower phalanges has been adopted into the manual appendages. What do you suggest caused such persistent deviation?"

Peter was astonished to hear English, even if it was stilted. The alien holding his wrist was joined by what she identified as her associate, a similar looking alien; blue skin, black eyes, although slightly shorter, with shorter hair that had a light blue tint to it.

"The evaluations for their internals has shown compatibility, so I would not concern yourself overly with the minutiae of their biology." Said the second alien. "Although it appears your receptacle has awakened. Perhaps you should introduce yourself." The second alien wasted no more time, and returned to her duties across the room.

“Hello, friend, welcome to our harvest ship.” The first alien said. As she spoke her hands worked deftly. Each hand worked in conjunction with each other to lift Peter’s limbs, slide the blade under the fabric and pull it gently through the sleeves, pant legs, and broadcloth. Each stroke of her blade seemed to be completely unimpeded, almost as though his clothes, flannel and canvas and denim, didn’t actually exist.

As much as panic was coursing through his body, Peter was equally alarmed to find that his attempts to move away from the cutting implement yielded no results. He wanted to pull away, to leap off the table, to run away, but none of his limbs would respond.

“What are you doing?” He asked, shocked that he could speak.

The alien working on his clothing paused for a moment. For the duration of her pause, it seemed like she was contemplating a response, or maybe contemplating the exact nature of his question.

“I am preparing you for the reproduction, new friend.” She said. “These superfluous, fibrous layers of clothing will not be necessary, and in fact, may impede the process. “The neurosuppressives appear to be functioning appropriately. I am happy to be conversing with you, I have not had much of the practice with your language group.”

“Stop. I don’t get it. What do you mean ‘reproduction’?” Peter was still coming to terms with his surroundings, and the alien hands gripping his joints, sliding a scalpel through his clothing, and pulling away scraps as they were severed from the whole cloth.

“Ah, you see, I am an adjunct officer in the reproduction corps. This is my first deployment to an exo-planet.” The alien said with almost child-like enthusiasm.

“What ‘exo-planet’? What ‘corps’? Who are you? Where am I?” Peter asked in rapid fire.

From somewhere in the room, another voice piped up, Peter remembered it as the shorter alien from earlier.

“That receptacle is likely unfamiliar with other sapient species, if you’re insistent on keeping it conscious, you should probably give the corps introductory overview.”

“Oh, yes, of course! Thank you, associate!” The alien looming over him said, never stopping her work. At this stage, Peter found himself almost completely naked, with only patches of his boxes, and his undershirt remaining.

“I think the most appropriate place to begin is to inform you that our species has a particular challenge in reproducing. Our species is monotrisexual. That means we are born functionally genderless, as my associate and I are now, however, with the proper hormonal introduction, we adopt one of the three relevant sexes necessary for reproduction.”

Peter simply stared. Taking his confused silence as understanding she continued.

“The primary issue with our reproduction…” She outlined, slicing through the final sheet of cloth on his undershirt and slipping it out from under him. “Is the initial gestation period after impregnation and fertilization. The initial gestation period for the eggs is a full cycle, uh, I believe roughly nine of your own solar cycles, the years, I think is the appropriate term, during which the host is rendered largely incapacitated.”

The last slip of his boxes came away with no resistance leaving Peter totally naked on the table. The alien didn’t seem to want to spare any time as she continued speaking, producing from somewhere under the table a small, to her, two pronged device. She inserted the prongs into her nostrils and drew a deep breath in through her nose. Her eyes closed as she drew the breath in, but as soon as she had inhaled, she exhaled and continued, removing the device.

“In order to solve this problem, we began seeding a number of exo-planets, orbiting a series of desirable nearby stars, with appropriately receptive genetic material.” She said, tossing the nasal device away.

Peter, almost instinctively tried to follow the path of the discarded nasal object, but his eyes were immediately pulled back to the massive alien sitting next to the table. Her hands, her upper hands, seized his head. She moved his head about to get a better view into his pupils, her fingers deftly holding his eyes open for inspection.

“Fortunately, your species has taken remarkably well to the process, and has even developed along astonishingly similar evolutionary paths, resulting in a distinctly familiar phenotype to …” She paused. Looking directly into Peter’s eyes, it appeared she comprehended his lack of comprehension. “Um, we grew you to meet our needs, and you turned out like us.”

As evidence she held up Peter’s hand and pressed his palm into one of her own. Peter was given a clear picture of just how different she was, and how similar. Despite her blue skin, her fingers and thumbs were recognizable, there were just more of them, and much, much larger. Peter’s fingers barely cleared her palm, and her hand, holding his by the wrist, easily encircled his wrist completely.

“So now…” Her sentence was cut off by a moan, a loud and overt expression that shook the room. The alien’s hand closed around his reflexively, as her eyes clenched.

“What?” Peter asked, the panic returning to him. “What’s going on? Hey, you over there! Help!”

“Be calm. Her body is adapting to the first stage hormonal treatment she took. It will pass momentarily.” Came the response from elsewhere in the room.

“Yes…” Said the alien, now hunched over him, with some effort. Still holding his hand in hers, she propped herself up on her other arms around Peter on the table. “I am… oh… I am fine. It is actually a very pleasurable sensation. I was just not prepared for it.”

True to the second alien’s estimation, the fit passed quickly. She stood back up, going from an imposing presence to a looming one.

"In order to prepare you for reproduction, you have been administered a number of treatments to improve the elasticity of your musculoskeletal and dermatological systems, which should prevent unnecessary physical trauma. Oh, I must get prepared."

She manipulated some kind of clasp at her waist and began to peel the pants she wore down over her hips. Peter couldn't make out what the pants were made of, but they slid off her form like spandex. Standing next to the table, it was impossible not to stare at her blue skin, and white pubic hair was revealed from under the grey material.

As the hem of the pants cleared her hips entirely, Peter could make out what looked like a relatively familiar vagina, albeit larger, purplish, and already wet.

The pants were kicked off without much other fuss, and to Peter's shock, the alien's lower hands moved to her crotch, one hand spreading her labia, and the other immediately plunging a few fingers deep into her sex, hooking under the glistening bush with fervor.

"It will be… nggghh… just a moment…"

True to her word, only a few moments later, as her hand worked deep into her pussy, Peter was mortified to see the effected change; from inside her, as though pulled out by her own fingers, erupted a large, fleshy rod, the length and thickness of Peter's own forearm, maybe more. The suddenly apparent appendage dripped with a sheen of bluish, slightly luminescent goo.

Peter was too shocked to say anything as the alien marveled at her own transformation.

"Associate! Associate! The hormonal supplement functioned without error!" She exclaimed.

"This is a very well established process, your physiology was already cleared in multiple testing iterations; it would be alarming and surprising if it did not function as intended." Clearly the second alien was the more experienced, and what was novel to the alien near him was mundane to the other.

The nearby alien moved to the foot of the table, still marveling at the growth stiffening between her legs.

"Wait!" Peter protested as the alien woman seized his ankles with her lower arms and dragged his limp body closer to her by his waist with her upper hand, closer to that purple appendage rising between her thighs, lifting his ankles and spreading his legs.

"No! Please, don't shove that cock in me!" Peter screamed, his body still not responding as the alien woman handed his ankles from her lower arms to her upper, while her lower arms set about guiding that monstrous appendage between her legs to his anus.

The alien woman paused, her black eyes blinking in confusion. She turned to her compatriot and began an exchange in their language. Although Peter didn't speak it, he heard the alien holding his ankles aloft, with her lower hands still spreading his ass cheeks say the word 'cock'.

The exchange was brief, and she turned back to Peter.

"Oh, I am the sorry, friend. I will not be inserting a penis into you." She said, sounding genuine.

Peter sighed and felt the little tension he could maintain in his body fade; relief like a wave washing over him.

"This is an ovipositor." The alien stated.

Before Peter could react, the giant, four armed, seven-fingered, blue skinned, white haired, black eyed alien leaned in, rolling her hips into the thrust and buried the entire length of her ovipositor into Peter, resulting in a clap of skin on skin so loud, Peter couldn't be sure it hadn't been thunder.

Peter wanted to fight, to struggle, or at the very least to scream, but the targeted neuro-suppresives his abductors had referred to earlier prevented him from moving and the egg-depositing organ shoved eighteen inches into him compressed, among other things, his lungs, preventing anything more than a socked sigh.

"Wonderful news, friend! The ovipositor has been inserted. And even more cause for celebration is in order; it appears the tissue treatments for your own body was similarly successful, as it does not appear that I have ruptured any of your internal organs."

She removed her hands from Peter's cheeks, and wrapped them, almost entirely, around Peter's waist. Her upper arms maintained their grip on his spread ankles.

"It is my desire that you remain conscious throughout the mating process, friend, and to that end I must recommend you adhere to a respiration cycle in time with the positioning of my ovipositor."

Peter's eyes, locked wide in shock at the sensation of a rod of alien flesh, too hot, too long, and very much animated in his bowels, tried to plead for release, since his mouth gaped wordlessly.

"Please hold the on, friend, as we will begin the exciting portion of mating!" The alien stated, slowly pulling her hips away, the ovipositor, far too thick and long for Peter's body, eased out of the space that his lungs had occupied. Peter gasped in air as the ovipositor retreated. Her hands seemed to be the only thing preventing Peter's body from being dragged back by the ovipositor sliding out of him. As it went Peter was keenly aware of a new sensation; the ovipositor rubbing against his prostate.

"Very good job, friend. But I should warn you that as the mating continues, I will be more and more assertive as my body increases lubrication production. Please be the prepared for that eventuality." Her voice trembled as she spoke, like an adrenaline junkie in the front car of a roller coaster, looking down over the drop.

"You've gotta stop, please!" Peter pleaded. "This isn't right!" He wanted no part of this, and was horrified to feel his cock swelling.

"Oh, friend, we have explained to you numerous times how the seeding and genetic sculpting plan have come to fruition in your species." She said before ramming her hips forward again, forcing the air out of Peter's lungs. "You have been raised since before your species could speak to be our incubatory vats. Now please, friend, cease your jest and focus on breathing."

The alien woman's thrusting, though slow initially, resumed without pause. She would pull out of Peter's rectum slowly enough to prevent prolapse, but as soon as Peter could get a breath in his lungs, she would slam forward. Every time she rammed into Peter's thighs and buttocks, the shock reverberated through his whole body. Hers as well, as her chest bounced with each thrust. She'd pull out again, this time a bit faster, and again slam into him. Every thrust seemed to slide easier into him, and then back out of him, allowing her to pick up speed each time.

Peter couldn't imagine more humiliation, but the look in her eyes, the grin spreading across her face into a toothy smile, and her subtle grunts made the feeling of a fleshy baseball bat pushing his organs into his rib cage over and over again somehow worse. He almost didn't care that his cock was harder than it had ever been.

He could feel a hot, thick slime flowing out from him as she pulled, and splattering around as she drove back in. Every time she thrusted into him, Peter could feel more and more of the alien goo pumping into him and then squelching out of him. Each time her hips connected with him, the stuff would splash up and coat his testicles, his penis, his buttocks, his legs, his abdomen, and even splashing some of the bright blue muck onto his face.

The alien woman also seemed to take notice, she thrust into Peter then paused. Her hands deftly passed both of Peter's ankles into one doubled thumbed grip so the newly unoccupied hand could drag a finger over her own abdomen, collecting a layer of the bright luminescent blue goo before licking it clean with a hideously long, ribbed, prehensile tongue. She squealed and shook with delight, involuntarily twisting Peter on her ovipositor.

"Friend! Friend, you must taste this! It is so delicious, and indicates the clutch of eggs that I will deposit will be both numerous and large! This is better than even projected, friend!"

Peter shook his head, unable to voice an objection with the alien egg laying organ still deep inside him, but it didn't matter as she reached back down, this time five of her long digits collected a horrifying amount of the goo and quickly found their way into Peter's agape mouth.

Peter gagged, but none of the muscles in his abdomen could affect any expulsion of the alien's juices. Worse still, after the initial disgust of her fingers, coated in the stuff, forcing themselves into Peter's mouth and down his throat in one swift motion, Peter came to a horrifying epiphany; it was delicious. Sweet and salty like a dessert, thick and smooth like syrup, hot and stimulating like coffee. Peter tried to look away from the alien woman as her fingers probed deeper into his throat, spreading her own fluids on every fleshy wall she could reach, but her strength was overpowering, and with her fingers deep inside him, there was no averting his gaze as his eyes began to water.

Without removing her fingers from his throat, both his ankles still in one hand, she resumed pumping into Peter, with renewed enthusiasm and vigor. Her hand in Peter's throat became just another point of leverage as she slammed into him again and again. The alien woman's skin glistened with sweat, and her subtle noises became heavy breathing and emphatic grunts. There was no more attempting to control his own breathing, every thrust of her ovipositor collapsed his lungs, and every pull let them fill again; his breathing rhythm dictated by her hips.

And still his cock strained against his own will, now getting splashed and coated with hot, alien sexual lubricant, that slid down his shaft and coated his balls. Peter had no analogue for the experience of having his prostate pounded while his dick was slimed from underneath. He wanted to will it away, but even through the alien woman's thrusting, he could feel the familiar pressure building at the base of his spine. Peter wanted to reach out and grab his own dick, to masturbate just to have some sense of control over what was happening to him. He desperately didn't want to be so helpless that his own manhood betrayed him. But his arms couldn't move, only his jaw, and lips, and eyes would obey him. The alien biological sciences thoroughly overpowering him as much as the blue woman holding his ankles. Tears streamed down his face as he climaxed amidst the giantess's pounding.

"Perhaps if you reposition the receptacle, you could enhance your own enjoyment even further." Came an unfamiliar voice from beside Peter. Peter had forgotten there was an alien in the room other than the one railing him with an ovipositor the size of his own forearm. He’d completely ignored the one with the slightly shorter, slightly darker skin, slightly shorter hair, and less amicable attitude, even as she had moved to observe from beside the table he was paralyzed on.

“I am unsure of the modification you postulate, associate. How do you mean to reposition the receptacle?” The alien slowed her pumping to a halt, and Peter was thankful for the brief opportunity to breath of his own volition, rather than having his lungs operated like a bellows.

“Please observe.” The darker skinned alien reached out with her four hands and began to seize Peter’s thighs and torso from her compatriot. The deeper blue alien then pulled Peter off her comaptriot’s ovipositor with an audible pop. Both Peter and the lighter alien gasped. Without giving Peter a chance to adjust, or even allowing a few moments for the alien goo seeping out of Peter to settle, the shorter alien flipped Peter over onto his stomach on the table and wrenched his legs wide via her grip on his thighs, eliciting a yelp of pain from Peter. Her hands remained on his thighs, but the ones gripping his torso slid down to spread his cheeks.

“Oh, associate! I see now, yes, this may prove most advantageous! Thank you so very much!” Exclaimed the first alien, who was already moving back into position, sliding the length of her ovipositor between Peter’s spread cheeks. “I think I will enjoy this even more, as you have said.”

Peter tried to object, but all that came out was a gurgle of exhaustion and regurgitated goo. The first alien’s lower hands clamped down hard around Peter’s waist as she pulled back one more time, the relatively narrow tip of her ovipositor aiming squarely at is rectum. Peter was only partially aware that his head was moving very slightly, even though he was still almost completely paralyzed, it was clear that he was regaining some agency over his muscles, but in the moment it only served to smear his face further in the puddle of goo where it was plastered into the table. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of his abductors, both of them, further disrobing. The alien that had been raping him pulled her shirt up and over head, discarding it without another thought, while the second alien was more carefully pulling her own pants down.

The pause in fornication didn’t last long, as the alien plunged in with renewed vigor. There was no subtle build up this time, no slow gain in speed, just a thunderous crash of her hips into Peter’s and then, as Peter felt the second alien’s hands release him, Peter groaned under the strain as he felt a weight and heat wash over him. The alien easily climbed onto the table and lay over Peter’s relatively small form. Peter’s head was pressed into the table by the alien’s massive chest. The alien sweat, and lube, and body heat only made the crashing impacts of her thighs into his worse. And now he was being slammed directly into the table. In addition to the flesh-tube sliding in and out of him, in addition to the battering he was taking from behind, she’d pull him up into her animal thrusts, and then, ride him back down to the table, where every body-jarring impact.

Peter’s head was also now subject to the massive mammaries assaulting him. She didn’t really lift her chest as she humped him fuller and fuller of alien lubricant, so Peter’s head was wedged deeper and deeper between breasts that dwarfed his cranium, even as each downward thrust did press into the table, squeezing the breasts together and giving Peter the impression of being caught between two angry waterbeds. Waterbeds that reeked of alien sweat, and seemed to be leaking some new fluid from their nipples.

The pace of the alien’s assault only grew, now so furiously fast that Peter could no longer sense his own breath. Instead there was a seamless continuum of lift and slam, squelch and squish, suction and plow, and Peter had lost track of which was which and from where. He could hear the alien though, her grunts as she thrust, her gasps as she pulled, all building with her ferocity. Peter’s world was a blur of suffocating under alien tits, trying to catch a breath while that same alien violently pushed his organs aside, and, mortifyingly enough, savoring the taste of alien sexual discharge.

Peter didn’t know how long that lasted. Time didn’t matter much under the massive mammaries, but when change did come, it wasn’t welcome. The alien drove into Peter, as she had hundreds, maybe thousands of times before, but Peter felt a bulge pressing against his cheeks, even though her thighs remained pressed against his, her lower hands clenched so tightly around his waist that he felt she might shatter his hips. At the same time, she lifted her chest from him, and almost immediately planted a hand on his head, keeping him pinned in place while her back craned, leveraging her whole body into her hips, and Peter’s head. He felt his face sink deeper into the padded table, and her hand clenched around his head, which would have been the most worrying sensation of the more recent two seconds of Peter’s life, except for the growing pressure at his ass cheeks, a new feeling of something too-big trying to bludgeon it's way into Peter via the ovipositor.

“Associate!” The alien cried out. “The clutch…” The alien let out a loud, protracted moan as the pressure against Peter’s cheeks grew, both in size and in force. “...it’s… it's coming!” Her grip on Peter's head tightened, a thumb digging into his jaw with the other behind his head, her fingers squeezing, like she was trying to juice an orange. With a kind of berserk fury, her lower hands pushed his hips away as she pulled out of him again and before he could be relieved, she slammed back down and pulled his hips up to meet her, the new bulge at the base of her ovipositor crashing into his battered anus.

Peter had never been into anal play, he'd never even tried it, prior to minutes ago, the only thing that had ever gone into him from the back door was a thermometer, and that seemed quaint compared to the meaty, rigid fire hose stuffed deep inside him. But it was the sensation of something else, wider even than the ovipositor shoving it's way into his rectum that worried him most. Every pounding thrust of the alien helped Peter yo realize something even larger was trying to enter him through the flesh tube pumping lubricant into him with every stroke. The new bulge weakening his anus each time.

With one more brutal push-pull-and-slam, the bulge breached Peter's rectum. What felt to Peter like a softball, slid into him through the ovipositor. He wanted to scream, but no air could fill his lungs. The alien woman screamed for him in bliss.

The alien froze, her hips glued to Peter's, her lower hands bruising his waist while her whole body clenched in orgasmic ecstasy. Then another bulge pressed against his anus, this one pushing through much faster. Then another, the third so close behind the second that it almost felt like one larger object. Then a fourth, and a fifth, and even a sixth. Although his head was clenched in an alien hand, he could feel himself swelling up with each deposited egg. Somewhere, as though experiencing it vicariously, Peter felt his own orgasm; his battered cock futility spurting droplets into the flood of alien goop dripping off the table in excess.

Her scream faded into grunts as each egg passed through her into Peter, and when the sixth had slipped inside him, her little-death grip on his waist and skull finally relaxed as she pitched forward, collapsing on Peter in exhaustion, her ovipositor still secreting juices into him. Although he needed no reminder of her advantage in size, the alien’s bulks pressed into him and strained against his swollen gut, while his head landed right under her massive chest, pressing him back into the table.

For moments, except for the squirming of the ovipositor in his colon, the heavy breathing of the alien woman smothering him, and the unsettling new feeling of six extraterrestrial eggs writhing inside him, Peter's world was a bizarre mix of hot, wet stillness.

“You did very well, associate.” Came a voice from beyond the smothering alien body laying over him. “But the scanner reveals you have only released half of the clutch of eggs you’ve cultivated.”

Peter struggled with comprehension, almost as much as he struggled to breathe from under the blue tits smothering him in a pool of alien sweat and goo, but he could do some basic math. Double the six bulging, wriggling things that had been crammed into him after having his ass and thighs pounded tender by an overly sexually aggressive woman double him in size, equated to six more waiting to be shoved into him.

“I am unsure if this receptacle can accept any more eggs, associate.” The voice reverberated around him as the alien woman on top of him, and still deep inside him, didn’t bother to even lift herself to respond. “I can feel the clutch I’ve deposited, and I fear it may have reached the maximum capacity of this orifice.”

Peter felt arms, four of them, slide under him, wrapping around him and hold him tight. At first, it was comforting, even after the savage assault he’d just endured, it felt good to be held. Unfortunately, the feeling soon turned, as the alien used her embrace to hold Peter secure as she moved her hips around, rolling and turning her hips, allowing the ovipositor to probe Peter’s insides thoroughly and without regard to his comfort. Peter was a bit shocked to hear the moan the alien’s exploration elicited from his battered body.

“Oh, associate, I fear that is the case. Any more eggs deposited thusly will likely not take. I do not wish to lose half the clutch, associate! Have you ever encountered such a predicament in your previous deployments?” Although she spoke with certainty of Peter’s ‘capacity’ that didn’t stop her from continuing to search, with her ovipositor, for some hidden pocket in Peter’s large intestines to deposit more eggs.

“Calm yourself, associate.” Came the muffled voice. “Your clutch is admirable in size and quantity, but it is not an outlier. We have encountered similar scenarios many times, on many deployments, and have an adequate solution.”

For the first time in what seemed like ages, Peter felt a weight lift off him, literally, as the alien woman’s arms came out from under him and pushed herself off Peter’s smushed body. As she lifted herself up, Peter’s body peeled from her’s, the sweat and lubricant only briefly keeping him stuck to her chest as she rose. He fell back to the table with a thud as she cleared off him entirely.

“Observe, associate.” Said the second alien, now clearer that it wasn’t coming from behind a few hundred pounds of muscle, fat, and bone. Peter grunted as he felt fingers press into his gut. “You are accurate that this receptacle’s primary orifice is filled to capacity with the first half of your clutch.” Another set of alien fingers suddenly hooked into Peter’s mouth, pulling his jaw open. “But these receptacles are very well engineered for our reproductive needs.”

Peter didn’t have the words for the surprise as the second alien suddenly spun Peter’s body around on the table and flipped him back onto his back in a shockingly ungentle motion, so instead he yelped out loud. The ovipositor popped free, and  Peter found himself looking up, from his perspective, at that same onerous ovipositor that had just been buried him. All around it, a bush of fine white hair all around it, while it glistened and dripped with the bright blue lube that had been pumping into him. Peter was left, mouth agape, both from the sudden spinning, and from the immediate presence of the ovipositor.

"Associate, are you suggesting…?" The taller alien inquired, but didn't get to finish her question as the shorter alien, swiftly and deftly, hooked two hands into Peter's mouth, holding it wide. The shorter alien's other hands grabbed the taller's ovipositor and butt with the others.

Peter had a very brief moment to gurgle a protest before the shorter alien pulled the taller into Peter, literally her ovipositor into Peter's throat. The ovipositor slid into Peter, despite it's intense length and girth, thanks to the aid of it's lube, which now coated Peter's face, dripping down, over and into his eyes, and soaking into his hair before dripping into the floor. The fresh alien lube in his mouth, running down his face, coating his lips, his throat, and spilling into his stomach reminded him with each pump how much he enjoyed its scent, its flavor, even its texture, and how much he loathed himself for loving it.  

"Oh!" Exclaimed the taller alien. "Associate, won't this asphyxiate the receptacle?" She sounded concerned, but she pressed her hips into Peter's face, and her hands clutched at him to keep his lips pressed to the white bush surrounding the base of her ovipositor. One hand clamped down on his neck, another on his jaw, a third behind his head, and the last hooked under his armpit, all squeezing and pulling him in closer.

"It may, however, if you work with alacrity, you can minimize the receptacle's brain damage, and in truth, if you can beat my record, it may even retain consciousness." The shorter alien slapped Peter's cheek, splattering lubricant around. "But the longer you delay, the less chance it has at that. Please, resume with that previous vigor."

There was an audible slap from behind the hips that was all Peter could see through the neon blue blur of lubricant and the taller alien squealed in surprise. Peter was horrified to feel the ovipositor in his quiver with the slap.

"I… yes, associate! I will deposit the remainder of the clutch with great haste!" She said, gaining both a second wind and affirmation for her task.

Peter wanted to scream, but there was nothing to do about it as her hips began moving with none of the previous build up; instead, the ovipositor seemed to telescope out of his mouth, spilling more lube over his face and obscuring his vision. He didn’t have to anticipate what was coming next for long as the alien’s hips crashed back into him, the ovipositor slipping through his mouth and throat almost unimpeded, despite its size. Her crotch slammed into his face and immediately pulled back for the next thrust.

The world blurred, not just because of the luminescent jelly flowing over his face, or the repeated blows delivered by the alien woman’s soaking crotch, but because Peter couldn’t recognize when he had last taken a breath. The alien’s ovipositor pumped more and more secretions into Peter, but never completely cleared his throat; sliding in and out almost without resistance. Peter’s head, neck, and jaw hurt from the repeated slams. The alien woman didn’t just push her ovipositor into him with inhuman force, she also pulled his head into the thrusts. He couldn’t tell if the pounding he could hear and feel was his own pulse or the impacts.

Although the ovipositor felt too big on it’s own, before long, Peter saw a bulge appear at the base of the ovipositor slamming into him, only stretching his jaw wider with each contact.

All at once, with one terrible impact, the alien woman's thrusting stopped. Her hands pulled him tightly into her crotch, almost as though she wear trying to pull his head into her. But the sudden pause in her motion was accompanied by a new feeling for Peter. Peter felt a pop in his jaw and the bulge tried to push through.

Peter had long since lost any frame of reference for what was occuring to him, but the sensation of a softball sized egg shoving it's way through his unnaturally wrenched open jaws, then sliding, inside the ovipositor, through his throat, swelling and stretching his throat it as it passed into his esophagus, and finally settled into his stomach, was so inherently alien that Peter struggled to even understand it.

There was only a brief delay between the seventh egg passing into his stomach and then the bulge of the next. Peter's jaw offered almost no resistance to the eighth egg, and it slid into him almost unimpeded. The ninth, tenth, eleventh and twelfth egg flowed into him with a deluge of goo in one, horrifyingly swift torrent of an alien climax.

Even as the final egg slid into him, the swelling in his throat moving into his gut, the alien woman didn't 

“Associate, I feel very tired.” The alien woman stated flatly, her companion supporting her as she walked toward a waiting bed.

“That is understandable, you have just released an admirable clutch of eggs, and you did so very well. Here, please lie down, rest.”

The second alien helped the first recline on the bed. Peter was shocked to see the ovipositor had receded away completely.

“You must rest now.” The second alien informed the first.

“But... the receptacle…” She struggled to speak, sleep threatening to overtake her.

“Will be sufficiently cared for under my supervision. Please focus on recuperation, associate.”

With that, the second alien pressed a button somewhere on the bed, causing the entire bed platform to hover, gently, out of the room.

Now alone with Peter, the second alien walked back to the table and stood over where Peter still struggled to feel at rest with a dozen alien eggs inside him.

“You must excuse her inexperience, this is her first deployment off world. Still, she is very enthusiastic. You should have seen her face when the breeding roles were announced. She was so happy to be assigned the role of impregnator. But please forgive my idle thoughts.”

The alien drew a finger along Peter’s bulging form, collecting a thick layer of the alien lube that seemed to be soaking into everything Peter could perceive. She brought the goo up to her face and drew in a long, deep breath through her nose, while wafting the scent into her nostrils with a free hand. Her whole naked body shuddered, and she let loose a sigh that Peter couldn’t identify. Even before her form stopped its shivering, she stuck the finger into her mouth and sucked the lubricant clean from it. She grunted as she hunched over the table, steadying herself with her arms.

“I…” She began before a moan interrupted her briefly. “I must also apologize for her inability to adequately explain our reproductive process.” She strained to get through each word. “But I have estimated that you are unclear on your continued involvement in the process.”

As her words regained their composure, so too did she. As she stood Peter’s eyes, still slightly blurry with tears, as well as alien sweat and lube, perceived a nightmarish sight. From between this second alien’s legs, a purple organ was growing in length and width. Unlike the previous alien's appendage, this one terminated in a bulbous, flared head.

“N...no.” Peter struggled to say through the thick goo.

“Unfortunately, we are not yet done.” She said. “You have been impregnated with the eggs, however, those eggs must now be fertilized.”

“No… m… more… eggs… can’t…” He managed to get out.

“Please don’t concern yourself overly much, as I will not be releasing any more eggs into you.” She interrupted him.

Peter burbled out a sound that might have been mistaken for relief, but it was soaked in fear as she was moving toward the end of the table where his head rested. The purple thing growing larger, and more rigid. She stopped at a disturbingly familiar place, the same location the previous alien had stood while pounding eggs into Peter from the front and the back. Her lower hands grabbed Peter’s head, gripping him securely despite the thick globules still clinging to him, and pulled him slightly closer to her. Peter whimpered as for the second time a pair of blue, wide, giantess, alien hips aligned with his head, and from them hung a frighteningly large purple rod. This one was already dripping black goo from it's tip.

“This is not an ovipositor.” She stated flatly. “This is a penis.”

Peter's scream wouldn't have had much effect anyway, with his throat, mouth, and face still dripping with alien lube, but even still it was cut short as the second alien woman crammed her purple penis down his throat in one unforgiving thrust.

"Oh my." Said the alien woman with surprise. "My associate was accurate in her assessment; this is much more pleasurable than I had anticipated."

Two forty five in the morning was no time for people, but someone had to haul the nation’s freeze dried snacks, and that someone was Bart. And Bart needed caffeine to make it the last few hundred miles.

The Cafeteriá Corazón had caffeine, in the form of four dirty coffee pots, none of which has brewed decaf in the last decade, and a griddle that had enough soaked-in bacon grease to make even the air taste vaguely of cured pork. It was also the only stop for a few hundred miles in the South of Colorado that had diesel pumps, making it an essential stop for people like Bart.

Bart’s Peterbuilt rig, an aging relic from a time before Bart was born, wheezed to a stop in the Corazón’s parking lot, its tires screeching against the pavement. As the truck’s systems exhaled after a particularly long stretch on the highway, Bart stepped down out of the cab. The lot wasn’t completely barren, there were at least one other rig, and even a couple of cars for normal travel. Still, there were at least two dozen empty parking spots for every car, and with a thundercloud brewing overhead, no soul was in sight.

Bart never bothered with umbrellas, his worn shirt providing enough protection against the elements, but he'd been soaked through enough times to know not to tempt fate and hustled under the buzzing yellow lights toward the cafe-diner-shop. As he finally cleared the lot and managed to push open the door, dingy with time and use, the clouds above cracked open, beginning a downpour that threatened to make leaving the diner disagreeable.

Once inside, Bart couldn’t help but immediately feel like something was direly wrong. Like so many other diners, the Corazón had been built decades ago, a time when it’s neon lights were actually filled with neon gas, and its bar-service stools gleamed with actual chromium, even if today that gas had leaked out when the cursive text sign had shattered, and the stools still shined, if significantly less brightly. But it wasn’t the wear of time on the diner that raised Bart’s suspicions. It was the people in the diner, or rather, the lack of people.

Even as sparsely populated as the parking lot was, there still should have been someone, anyone, inside the diner. But inside there was only one other soul. The booths were empty, despite a few still having the remnants of the last meal served there. The stools at the bar were empty, with a few cups of half-finished coffee and even a forgotten tip visible. The kitschy truck-stop shop side was barren, its snacks and drinks and off-brand chargers hung still on racks. No one even manned the jukebox attached to the opposite end of the counter, but it still screamed out a very blown-out version of AC/DC’s 'Back in Black.’

The diner was truly empty, save for Bart, and the lone other soul, standing at attention, with a rictus smile behind the cash register. Bart had stopped in at the Corazón dozens of times over the course of the last three years, but the face smiling at him from behind the till was new, and deeply unsettling in its cheer. All of the regular staff, Mavis, Gene, Gertrude, even the frightening, almost completely non-verbal line-cook they called Yuri all seemed absent, and in their place was this fresh-faced, young, disturbingly happy woman with a brown ponytail, who regarded Bart with the intensity of mental patient regarding the needle cart. She stood behind the counter, standing at ramrod attention, with a half-smile and eyes darting from Bart  and back to the kitchen. She wore the uniform of the diner, a simple white shirt with a blank name tag.

Bart shook off what little rain had managed to fall on him before he made it into the door. He kicked off the extra moisture from his shoes. He brushed his hand through his hair. With a quick glance around, more from paranoia than really expecting to see anyone else in the diner that was still and silent save for himself, the young woman standing behind the counter, and the jukebox at the opposite end of the counter belting out warbling AC/DC.

“Hey.” Bart said, noncommittally as he arrived at the counter.

The woman behind the counter seemed almost shocked at the utterance. Her eyes were wide as though she had just seen a ghost, or at the very least an unexpected health inspector. Even odder was her stance, arms locked at her side, like waiting for a drill sergeant to bark orders.

“Greeeetings! Welcome to the dining hall!” The young woman shouted. “It is my hope that you are both hungry and interested in purchasing a meal! Or stimulants! We have chemical stimulants as well! Freshly extracted!”

“Uh, yeah, I guess…” Bart said, more than a little unnerved. “I’m hoping you mean ‘coffee’ and not something less savory. Although I guess I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to something less savory…”

“Yes! I mean the ‘coffee’!” The young woman said. “Please enjoy the coffee!”

“Sure… a cup of coffee please.” Bart said. “Heavy on the sugar, heavy on the cream, and a little bacon fat.”

The painful and awkward silence that hung between them was thick enough to cut with a knife. Bart waiting for a cup of coffee, and the woman across the counter from him standing at attention, her eyes the only thing about her seeming to move, locked onto his but occasionally darting to the right, behind her.

“So, about that cup of coffee?” Bart asked, glancing toward the pot of coffee on the warmer.

“Yes!” The young woman almost jumped.

With the same stiffness that she had stood with, she darted over to the coffee, reached for it, missed, then swung again to seize the handle. She immediately marched back over to the counter, and awkwardly set the entire carafe of coffee, a bitter, far overcooked on the burner to Bart’s nostrils, on the counter between them. Bart regarded the clearly scalded coffee, and the carafe, then the young woman. He noticed her nametag, ‘Mavis’, as he did.

“Maybe a fresh pot, Mavis?” Bart asked. “It’s weird your name is ‘Mavis’, because the other lady that works here…”

“Yes, at once!” The young woman said.

She picked the carafe back up and disappeared into the kitchen with an alarming alacrity. Bart was left standing at the counter, a bit baffled, still with waning wakefulness, and wondering if the prospect of food would be a good idea. He was still contemplating the safety of an omelet when the woman returned, right back up to the counter.

“Uh…” Bart began.

“We are preparing the coffee with the sugar and the cream and the bacon fat!” The woman almost shouted, not with any anger, just far too loud.

Before Bart could bring up her name, or the fact that the coffee maker was sitting outside of the kitchen, or even come close to the topic of food when there came a new sound from back in the kitchen. A low, prolonged groan, like someone’s grandpa standing up from their comfiest recliner after the world’s worst baseball game.

"What was that?" Bart asked.

"That was… the chef!" The young woman said bluntly.

"The 'chef'? Do you mean the 'cook'? As in, 'Yuri the cook'?" Bart asked, trying to lean slightly to the right to catch a glimpse behind the young woman into the kitchen beyond.

"Yes, Yuri, who cooks. Yuri, the cook." The woman rambled. "You know how Yuri, the cook, typically behaves."

It had been Bart’s intent to point out that Yuri never behaved that way, but he was distracted by a sensation at his foot, and the sound of a metallic ringing. He bent down and picked up what he had accidentally kicked with the toe of his shoe, a rather reflective, silvery, metallic thing that had absolutely no protrusions or faults, like a sphere that had been stretched out. As Bart picked it up, his first thought was of some kind of butt plug, but from his limited experience in Baton Rouge, those usually had some kind of base, this seemed to be simply an impossibly smooth, elongated sphere that was almost too big to fit comfortably in one hand as he stood back up. 

"What is this?" Bart asked, nodding towards the gleaming, metallic, prolate spheroid in his hand.

The awkward young woman's eyes followed his nod down to the counter and snapped wide at the sight of the thing, returning to match Bart's gaze still wide in surprise. For a brief moment, as the jukebox skipped on one of the record's numerous faults, Bart and the young woman stared at each other, their locked eyes broken only by the very clear, and loud call for help that came from somewhere in the kitchen.

The young woman’s face changed. It went from the confused, forced smile, to some kind of scowl, as she spat a series of syllables that Bart had little hope of recognizing. With the utterance of those alien sounds, the vision of the young woman in front of him shimmered, like a kind of close-range mirage. Bart was stunned enough to drop the metallic thing onto the counter.

The jukebox struggled, but finally switched over to 'Let Me Put My Love Into You.'

Gone was the awkward young woman behind the counter. In her place stood a vision of seductive horror. Standing well over Bart and casting a shadow over him, even from behind the counter, with skin a kind of brilliant and shimmering blue, black eyes, four arms each terminating in seven digits, white hair that reflected light like platinum, and, although Bart had never seen an alien reproductive organ, what was almost assuredly an alien phallus protruding from between the giantess’s legs, straining, purple, and capped by a flanged head. Bart only had a brief moment to consider the nude alien giantess in front of him before she bounded over the counter, her arms spread wide.

Once, when he’d started working the freight shipping lines, Bart had been caught beneath a falling pallet of specialty pillows. It had been, at the time, the most alarming experience of his life, watching a mountain of cloth and foam stuffing descend on him from on high. The sight of a giant blue woman dropping down on him was so much worse. Although the diner was empty, Bart screamed but didn't have a chance to make the attempt to turn and flee.

He got as far as turning his head before the alien was on him. With a speed uncharacteristic of anything her size, the alien woman seized Bart in her many arms, and spun him around, slamming him over the curved, lighted display case showcasing the diner’s many pies, pastries, pre-packaged meals, and desserts.

Before he had a chance to even breathe, both of his hands were pulled behind his back, and a hand slapped down on his head, pressing his face into the glass. The alien worked quickly, and Bart felt her long fingers slip under the waistband of his jeans. It hadn’t occurred to Bart that the denim of his jeans were in anyway insufficient to the task of staying together, but as soon as the alien woman had a grip, she braced Bart’s body with her remaining free hand at the base of his some and pulled the jeans away with a horrifyingly loud ripping sound as both the denim cloth and the seams failed in spectacular fashion.

Even as his pants were being shredded, Bart screamed and tried to free himself. With his hands bound behind him, and his head under an alien palm, however, he made no progress. Making matters worse, he was almost literally over a barrel, except this barrel was a brightly lit case with fluorescent bulbs, and contained lemon meringue, cherry, and chocolate mousse pies for sale. Bart kicked ineffectually, his legs the only part of him unrestrained by grasping alien hands.

“I apologize for the abruptness of this process.” The same voice as the young woman from behind the counter came from above him. “But I assure you, new friend, we will ensure you are well taken care of after I impregnate you, and my associate fertilizes you. For now, we need to prepare you for ovipositor, otherwise it may damage you irreparably.”

“What?” Bart screamed. “What the fuck is an ovipositor?”

Before she responded, Bart could feel the alien woman lean over. She was having absolutely no difficulty in keeping him pinned, or his arms restrained, and with her extra set of hands, she made it seem easy as she recovered the silver object from the counter that had set her off. Bart heard a pop, and then a sharp sting in his butt cheek, through the cloth of his boxers. At the same time, a hand finally gripped one of his legs, but only to pull his shoe off of him.

“It is the appendage I will use to lay an egg inside of you.” The giant blue alien woman responded. “Do not worry, while we can lay eggs clutches in excess of twelve, or even twenty in extremely fecund cases, my associate and I have undergone hormonal treatment to limit our reproductive capabilities to single eggs per copulation.”

“I don’t want to have an egg inside of…” Bart struggled to get the rest of the sentence out as the blue alien ripped his boxers from his body with even greater ease than she had with his jeans. “I don’t want your egg inside of me! Let me go!”

“I am afraid I cannot let you go.” The alien said, an unseen hand tossed his other boot away. “And your desire to remain unimpregnated is also of little consequence. If it is any consolation, our breeding process results in significantly expanded lifespans for your species. You may yet live ten or twelve times your normal expectancy, all spent helping birth healthy children for us.”

The sting in his thigh hadn’t subsided, but instead was beginning to spread. He could feel it, like a warming serum, coursing through his veins and seeping into his hips and abdomen.

"Although it is conjecture, I suspect the tissue plasticizer spreading through your circulatory system is creating some mixed physiological reactions. I should reassure you that any discomfort will subside shortly, but I must apologize for the impromptu nature of the chemical solution, we have obviously not had an opportunity to formulate one based on your personal physiology."

Bart tried to fight against her hands pinning him to the pie-case, and though he continued to struggle against her, some small part of his brain knew the truth; even if he had been at peak physical strength and dexterity, he’d be unable to break her inhuman strong grip, or slide out from her four inhumanly skilled hands.

The brief sting in his buttock had dulled into a paradoxically comforting warmth, numbing pain and discomfort without removing feeling, and was spreading from the site of the sting throughout Bart’s body, radiating out to his legs and chest.

Bart hadn't given up, but his efforts had been reduced to mostly amplifying his own pain as the alien woman solidified her grip when another voice came from the back of the diner, unseen in the kitchen.

"Please cease with your exposition, associate, we have seen what can happen in the span of a few moments, and I would like for the next breeding vessel to wander in to find this place empty, and not to find you still enjoying this one's company, conversation, and copulations."

"I am acting with as much haste as I may, associate…" the woman called back. "but I would not like any of these valuable vessels to end up like Remote Commander Syah's latest collection expedition, I have been told that they lost all seven clutches, and the Remote Commander has yet to clean the stains from either her loins or her reputation."

Bart tried to pull the giant woman’s hands from his neck, where many fingers restricted his blood and air, to the point of making his vision swim. His efforts only succeeded in another of her giant hands collecting both of his wrists and holding them above his head while she continued to work on stripping him off his clothing, working on his boots.

"Although, truthfully, I would very much like you to cease your efforts to prevent this." The deep blue skinned woman said, this time to him. "If you will simply allow me to impregnate you, my associate can fertilize you, and we can have you loaded up into a comfortable incubation bath for gestation in moments."

Although her voice was surprisingly gentle, and radiated sincere concern, her cadence didn't loosen her grip around his neck. Still dazed from his head hitting the glass pie case, and very much struggling to breathe with an alien hand gripping his throat, Bart was still disoriented by the rising sensation as the alien woman peeled him off the display case and into the air. With one hand she moved both of his hands over his head and held both his wrists aloft, the second remained secured around his neck, only allowing the bare minimum of air and blood to circulate through it, a third had secured his right leg, wrapping entirely around his thigh, and was holding the leg up while his left dangled, and her final hand had a tight grip at his hips. Although his jeans had been torn away, his boxers, or what was left of them, fell from his right ankle.

“Please excuse my hurry, new friend, we are on a very tight timetable.” The voice above Bart said. “But I will admit, I have grown to enjoy this process a great deal, and if my previous incubation vessels are to be believed, you may as well.”

Bart gave no thought to the prospect of enjoying whatever the giant, blue, alien had in mind, he was more focused with trying to free himself from her grasp, despite the fact that his strength seemed to be fading, and even before the calming warmth from the sting near his buttock had spread throughout him. As that warmth reached even his face, fingers and toes, any effort he made felt like trying to resist a tidal wave of flesh that wanted to restrain him. Worse still, the weakness did nothing to numb him. Seemingly to the contrary, he could feel everything with exceptional clarity, see every harsh light in the diner even clearer, hear the alien stripping his lower body, and even smell the diner’s pungence better than ever before.

The sudden flood of sensations and new perceptions on the world around him didn't distract him from the most pressing feeling, that of something warm, almost hot, sliding between his legs. Even though a hand remained securely wrapped around his neck, those long alien fingers threatening to asphyxiate and strangle him with just a bit more pressure, he could see the thing that he felt rub up under his testicles; a flared head and a long fleshy shaft of straining purple skin, wide enough to spread his dangling leg a bit and longer, it seemed, than one of his own forearms.

“No!” He managed to squeeze out from his constricted neck.

The phallic organ slid back from under him, rubbing along his own genitals and stopping more objections for an involuntary moan that shuddered out of Bart, much to his humiliation. Even as it brushed under his testicles it felt better than any sex he'd ever had.

"I suspect that utterance suggests that, even though they were not tailored to your specific physiology, the neurostimulants and tissue-plasticizers are beginning to take effect." The alien holding him said. "While I would have preferred your voluntary compliance, your orifices will be compliant enough."

Bart had no strength to resist, or even flail, as he felt a set of long, alien fingers spread his ass cheeks. A hot fleshy tip pressed against his rectum, Bart could feel its wetness coating his cheeks and surrounding skin, and the grip on his thigh and hip clenched down to the point of pain. A deep breath drew in behind him.

"You will come to enjoy this." The alien woman said. “In time.”

Bart was given no time to doubt, as the organ pressed against his rectum pushed through the meager resistance he could manage. Bart didn't have time to ponder the penetration, the alien holding him up, her organ having found its mark, slammed him down on the rod with an unimaginable force. His cheeks clapped against her hips as she brought him down faster than freefall.

Once, when Bart had been near Oakland with a truckload of glass-wool batting, a woman he’d met in town had sucked his dick in the back of his cab. During that fellatio, the woman had stuck a finger up Bart’s ass. This was nothing like that brief intrusion. This was more like having an angry, dripping wet, ball python being shoved inside him. He had never been aware he could feel his internal organs, or at least feel them being crushed into a smaller and smaller space to make room for the hot rod battering his guts out of the way. Even as Bart felt his intestines, kidneys, stomach, and other organs push up against his lungs, he couldn’t scream as the breath was crushed out of his lungs.

The alien holding him, however, had no such impediment, and let out a groan of pleasure as her ovipositor slid home. The groan roared in Bart's ear above him. Bart could feel her organ twitch inside him, each quiver felt more like a baseball bat being stirred around in his internals.

Her grip on his limbs, and especially around his neck, tightened more than Bart realized was possible. He could feel his leg bend at the thigh far more than was naturally possible, but did not break. His neck felt like it had been squeezed to putty in the alien's grip, and his vision began to swim as neither air nor blood circulated to his brain.

"I am almost ashamed to admit how much pleasure I derive from this oviposition." She said after more than a minute of holding Bart in painful stillness.

She seemed to come to her senses, or at least, regain control of herself. Her grip strength lessened, on all parts of him. Even though the crushing grasp on his neck relaxed, it didn't uncompact his guts from the alien phallus inside him and he could only squeak out a muted half syllable.

“You will want to breathe in time with my motions, otherwise you may lose consciousness.” She said, releasing his neck.

She shifted her grip to holding one arm in each of her upper hands for better leverage as she began to pull him up along her ovipositor. Bart couldn’t hold back a groan as the huge shaft slid too quickly out of his rectum and between his cheeks, unmashing his lungs and letting him draw in a breath as the alien lifted him. The air shuddered through his uncrumpled neck but his vision finally stabilized. Somewhere in the distance, as his head started to clear and the pounding of his own pulse was replaced with the relative quiet of the diner, he could hear the jukebox turn over to a blown out rendition of AC/DC’s 'Girls Got Rhythm.'

“Wait! Wait! Please stop!” Bart screamed as vital functions returned to his head.

“Please focus on breathing in time.” The alien said. “This will not take overly long.”

Bart wanted to object, to shake himself free of her four hands, to pull himself off of the flared tip of the shaft still stuck between his cheeks. But the alien raping him had other plans. Before he could utter another word, the alien slammed him back down on the rod, again burying the entire length of the thing inside Bart and forcing the air out of his lungs. Bart’s protests became nothing more than a non-verbal grunt.

Adding to the horror, Bart could feel his penis harden, despite everything. The injection at his thigh had started the process, making his body warm and sending a pleasurable sensation throughout his tissue, but with that same injection weakening his muscles and now an alien organ battering his prostate, he had no way of resisting his own body.

There wasn’t any pause this time as she lifted him again, sliding him almost all the way off her ovipositor. The act granted Bart’s lungs just enough time to draw in a deep, labored breath, and allowed Bart to squeak out a meager ‘no’, before she brought him back down again. Bart was left with the sensation of his insides being re-arranged, the squishing sound of his flesh making room for hers, and the undeniable building of tension in his own dick.

Again and again, she lifted him up, only to bring him crashing back down on her rod. Whatever pause, or delay, she had experienced during the initial thrust quickly melted away and the speed of her thrusting picked up dramatically. Bart had only the analogue of riding over the pot-hole plagued road in the bed of his friend’s pickup, but that pick up hadn’t been driving a fleshy baseball-bat in and out of him with every bone jarring bump. His limbs seemed elastic in her grip, helping her to bounce him up and down with unmatched frenzy.

Even as his own breathing attempted to match the cycle of his lungs’ abuse, Bart was treated to something new even under the bizarre circumstances. As he tried to adjust to each body-wracking impact with her thighs, he caught a glimpse of his gut as she dropped him down and saw his abdomen bulge with the intrusion of her rod. As she lifted him off the rod, he watched the bulge disappear, only to reappear as she drove him down on her shaft again and again and again.

Time ceased to have much relevance for Bart. The alien woman’s assurance of a brief process seemed to be relative, as he lost count of how many times he’d been functionally impaled on alien genitalia, and how long he’d spent suspended in her grasp or slammed down on her rod. The only notable difference Bart could sense was the fluid her organ was now gushing into him dripping out of him and down his legs; a viscous, hot goo that cooled as it squirted from his orifice and ran down his skin. Somewhere, in the back of his pleasure-drunk, and shocked mind, he realized that the injection he’d been given as soon as the alien had pounced on him had fundamentally changed his physiology, and was the only thing preventing the alien’s assault from ripping him to shreds as she ravaged him. Her hands pulled roughly at him each time and her grip on his leg and hip never lessened, each moment was a discombobulating explosion of rise and fall.

After what felt like hours, or maybe minutes, the first change in sensation occurred. Although abused, and stretched wider than Bart had ever considered possible, an even thicker presence pushed at the entrance to Bart’s rectum. The alien woman seemed to notice the change too, moaning as she paused in her thrusting with Bart pressed against her, leaving Bart’s mouth working wordlessly and his lungs again unable to breathe.

“We are nearing our goal.” She explained. “But this next part may be a bit intense.”

Bart couldn’t comprehend what she considered ‘intense’ if everything leading up until had not qualified, but he didn’t have long to ponder it. The alien turned around and pushed Bart forward onto the diner’s counter, and immediately pressed a hand into the back of his head. The act of bending Bart over the counter let enough of her organ slip out of him for him to shout in surprise. He was only vaguely aware of her other upper hand reaching over the counter and holding the opposite edge for extra support, while her lower hands seemed to release him entirely.

There was a brief moment, almost calm and serene compared to what preceded it, as Bart felt the alien pull herself almost out of him entirely. From above he heard a shuddering sigh, and Bart caught not only one, two, but three breaths in sequence, more than any since the assault began.

“Please…” He begged.

“I am happy to see you are enjoying this process.” She said, seeming to misunderstand his plea to stop for a request for more. “And I will oblige you.”

"No…" He managed.

Bart's objection was either unheard or unheeded, as he felt her lower hands reassert their inhumanly strong grip on his hips, signaling what was about to happen. No longer content to use gravity for assistance, the alien woman rammed her hips forward. Between her hand on the counter, her grip on his hips, and the sheet strength of throwing her whole body into the brutal thrust, the slap from her thighs hitting Bart sounded like a thunderclap, and Bart was subjected to the deepest intrusion into his rectum thus far in the evening.

The big blue woman paused, and even above the intense discomfort of her grip on him, the hand pressing his head into the counter, and, of course, the ovipositor buried inside him, was joined by a new feeling of the ovipositor's base swelling against his cheeks, seeming to grow in width.

"We are nearly complete." The alien said.

There was no more pause. The alien pulled out of Bart, his body trying against his will to hold onto the alien organ, but her grip prevented it. She slammed back into him, and then again, and again, and again. Each time, her thrust felt like getting hit by a truck, and Bart could feel his rectum weaken with each impact.

Bart knew he was fucked, but when the alien slammed into him and pulled his hips back into her as hard as she seemingly could, he understood it with renewed clarity. With her organ shoved deeper into him than it had been, the expanding base of the ovipositor finally overcame the meager resistance Bart's ass had been able to mount.

The bulge at his backside swelled up through the ovipositor and up into Bart, passing through his dilated rectum. Bart was only able to be mildly alarmed that he could feel it moving through the now shuddering ovipositor as it slid deeper into him with painful sloth. Finally, it reached the ovipositor’s head, still crammed deeper in him than anything other than a surgeon’s tools had ever been, where he felt it spurt out deep inside his body. It was accompanied by a flood of the alien lubricating goo, and to Bart's shame, his own orgasm spurting ineffectually on the front of the diner's counter. Silence lingered for a moment, save for Bart’s heavy breathing. He could feel the egg now inside him, but the ovipositor wasn’t done with him, continuing to fill him with alien fluids.

The, slowly, cautiously, the alien woman began to draw herself out of Bart. Even as she pulled out of him, splashing more of her lubricant over the linoleum flooring, Bart could feel the egg she had deposited inside of him remain behind. Her ovipositor slid out of him, offering only a brief, tugging resistance as the flared head audibly popped free of his abused ass. For a moment, she was silent, and Bart had only her hand clutching at his hips, and the one pressing into his head, to remind him she was still hovering over him.

“Associate!” The alien woman called out, enthusiasm filling her voice. “I am happy to report that the egg appears to have been deposited and set successfully.”

Bart wanted nothing more than to fade into unconsciousness. Although he took some solace in the feeling of his rectum slowly closing, it did nothing to assuage the knowledge of what had happened, or the sensation of the egg still occupying most of where he expected only his intestines to be. But even bent over a dingy diner counter, with an alien egg inside him, and alien bodily fluids flowing down his legs, and the hands of his newly found alien baby-momma still pinning him down, but at least it was finally over. Bart took solace in the fact that he would no longer have to endure being raped by an alien.

“I’m relieved to hear that.” Came a voice, from the kitchen.

Bart couldn’t move his head, still clutched in the grip of five fingers and two thumbs, but he could see another figure step from the kitchen. Still blue, still massive, still taller than Bart by what seemed to be nearly double, if shorter than the one pinning him down, still sporting four arms, and mortifyingly enough, still equipped with a phallic organ standing erect from between her legs. This straining, dribbling, purple shaft, however, didn’t look the same as the one that had splunked deep inside him, having a bulbous head instead of a flared one.

The new alien carried under each of her top arms an unconscious person. Each of the people between her arms was naked, dripping from the waist down with a pearlescent black goo that ran down their legs.

“Associate, these incubators are fully fertilized, please secure them in their pods while I fertilize this new one.” The new alien said.

She deftly laid the two unconscious bodies she carried over the pie case. Of those bodies, Bart recognized Yuri, the gruff Ukrainian immigrant who cooked for the Corazón, and what Bart guessed was some hapless motorist, both being laid, with surprising speed and care for their wellbeing, over the pie case.

“I must admit, although I was skeptical at the prospect of initially only utilizing each incubator for a single egg…” The second alien said, stepping around the counter. “It has yielded impressive results, we will be able to take back more than a dozen receptacles for breeding from this excursion alone.”

Bart didn’t know what the newly emerging alien had in mind, but nothing his adrenaline-addled mind could conjure was good. In his sudden panic, he found the energy to fight against the hands holding him down although he had no more success than before he’d been impregnated.

“Please stand aside, associate.” The new alien said, positioning herself behind Bart.

Although the hand stayed planted on his head, Bart felt himself be handed over to the new alien. The new alien was, much to Bart’s horror, much less gentle than the previous, her hands immediately seizing his ankles and spreading his legs so wide as to be fully horizontal. He yelped in shock, even as he realized the drugs in him prevented him from feeling too much pain.

“I’ll get these two secured, associate!” The first alien said. “Thank you so much, I am pleased that this process has been so well received!”

“You can’t…!” Bart started.

“Oh, I assure you… “ The new alien said as her upper hands spread his ass cheeks. “I very much can. But do not overly concern yourself.”

Bart struggled, his hands and arms slipping against the counter, but achieving very little else.

“I work much faster than my associate, so this fertilization will be quick.” The alien said.

Bart fought even harder as he felt the new alien’s phallus lay itself between his spread cheeks. She slid its length up and down over its target, spreading a new kind of fluid over him. Bart was horrified as this one felt even longer than the ovipositor that had just been pulled out of him.

“And when I’m done filling you to nearly bursting to ensure the egg inside you is properly fertilized…” She said, pressing her organ against his rectum.

Bart didn’t have time to object as she thrust forward, her hands slipping from his cheeks, but her grip on his ankles remaining strong. She uses that grip on his ankles to pull him into her thrust, causing the head of her penis to pop into him instantly. Even though he'd been ineffectual at stopping the first alien reproductive organ from penetrating him, any resistance he imagined he still possessed had already been thoroughly fucked out of him by the first alien, and the new shaft slid into him with barely any friction. The impact was abrupt, like being hit by a truck, and was jarring enough to shake the pies in the cabinet, and jar the jukebox into skipping over to 'Giving the Dog a Bone.'

“We will secure you for transport...” She said, leaning into Bart.

She reasserted her grip, like the previous alien had, on Bart's hips and began pulling out of him. True to her word, she began thrusting into Bart much faster with much shallower plunges into his guts.

“And after we've synthesized a new round of supplements tailored to your personal physiology…" The alien explained, as she continued the process of thrusting into Bart over and over again.

Bart could feel the alien shaft poking the egg the previous alien had laid inside him. Worse still, with every slap of this new alien's hips against his own, he could feel a new goo filling him up in preparation for her climax.

"We'll deposit a full clutch inside of you, once you're secured on our population-ship.” She said.

The alien's voice was beginning to strain through quickening breaths, and her pace increased with it. It almost made Bart long for the gentler nature of the first alien.

“And once you have made the journey back to our world…” The alien continued, amid the thrusting. “We will secure you in a breeding pool, for use by the general populace.”

Bart could only squeak, his breathing falling back into a familiar rhythm of being dictated by an alien organ inside of him as the jukebox in the corner skipped with every thrust, and the alien fucking him picked up speed and intensity.

With a singularly powerful impact, one that rocked the entire counter and settled the jukebox into the distorted chorus of 'Inject the Venom', the rhythmic pounding finally stopped. The sensation was unlike the previous alien's orgasm, instead of a heavy, foreign weight settling into his gut, this was like an enema from some wrathful deity. Bart groaned as he felt his abdomen swell slightly from the pressure. The alien cock buried pulsed as it spewed inside of him over and over and over again.

By the time he felt the alien’s phallus being dragged out of him, it was accompanied by a flood of warmth on his ass and thighs and a grunt from the alien filling him to gushing. The phallus pulled at his rectum until it finally escaped with an audible pop and sigh from above. Bart wanted nothing more to fade into unconsciousness, but the hands gripping his hips and legs pulled him up and the world spun as he was tossed over an alien shoulder.

“Let’s get you secured in the shuttle for the trip back to the population-ship.” The alien said. “We’ll diagram your physiology and administer a more tailored treatment so you can bear more of our young as we make the trip home.”

Bart felt the word begin to fade. Exhaustion was finally setting in, and given he was no longer being railed by alien dicks, or alien dick-like-objects, the only motion he felt was the gentle swaying of his body with the alien’s gait and the warmth of her skin. He looked up and watched as the lights from the Cafeteriá Corazón darkened in his eyes. Just before he passed out the Corazón’s jukebox spun up and switched over to a new track, playing in remarkable clarity 'Satellite Blues.'