Read Chosen by the Alien Above Part 5: A Sci-Fi Alien Romance Serial Online
Authors: Nora Lane
Chosen by the Alien Above Part 5: A Sci-Fi Alien Romance Serial
Chosen by the Alien Above Series
Nora Lane, June 2015
Copyright © 2015 Nora Lane
All rights reserved worldwide
No part of this book may be reproduced, uploaded to the Internet, or copied without permission from the author. The author respectfully asks that you please support artistic expression and help promote anti-piracy efforts by purchasing a copy of this book at the authorized online outlets.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incident either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, locales, business establishments, or actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is purely coincidental.
All sexual activities depicted occur between consenting characters 18 years or older and who are not blood related.
Chosen by the Alien Above Series
Chosen by the Alien Above Part 1
Chosen by the Alien Above Part 2
Chosen by the Alien Above Part 3
Chosen by the Alien Above Part 4
Chosen by the Alien Above Part 5
Chosen by the Alien Above Part 6 - Coming Soon!
The complete story will be bundled and released alongside Part 6.
Excerpt
* * * * *
Noah towered above me. His gray skin suit noticeably absent. His body a stone carving of muscle overflowing muscle. The broad planes of his chest like tectonic plates that shifted with his breath.
I looked lower, below the etched ridges and valleys of his stomach.
He was huge. Everywhere. His manhood extended stiffly, like a flagpole on its side. The head throbbed as I watched. Despite my confusion, my growing apprehension, wetness flared between my legs. My pink parts tingled with anticipation. I wanted him inside me. I needed his massive weight bearing into me. Goosebumps prickled my inner thighs and the back of my neck. My nipples stood hard at attention.
Invisible hands caressed me. I didn't know any other way to explain it. This was still the dream.
It had to be.
In what reality was Noah Sinclair naked and hard and about to take me?
As much as I wanted him, something wasn't right.
What?
My already spread legs opened wider. The muscles in my thighs didn't contract to cause the motion. It just happened. Like it would in a dream. You think of something and then it happens. All the usual stuff in the middle was unnecessary.
If it was just a dream, I could let go. I could open myself in ways that I never felt confident enough to do in waking life. When my critical brain held sway. I needed to let go. To let go of the lonely inexperience that marked my history with men.
Noah floated closer. He didn't crawl or creep. He didn't move. He floated without concern for the mechanics of physical forms. He moved how dreams move.
He filled the empty space between my legs. Shivers rattled through me as his cock touched my wet, parted lips. Aching need shuddered through my limbs. A bodyquake with the epicenter at the light touch of our tender, sensitive parts.
All the signals were right but the transmission couldn't have been more wrong.
Why?
I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again, hoping something would resolve this uneasy limbo. The not knowing the dream from the reality. The discomfort of being so charged and yet knowing the energy was deadly wrong.
GRREAARRRAAHHH.
I glanced over and saw glowing red eyes by the door. That mangy dog bot hated me from the minute I arrived. She
wished
she could be a mangy dog. She was nothing more than a disturbing assemblage of metal, tubes, and circuit boards. She froze on all fours, aimed right at me. A low metallic growl scratched from whatever she used for a throat.
She wanted to kill me. The jealous bitch. She wanted no one near her master. And in this dream, Noah and I were about to be closer than ever before.
“Noah?” I said.
Noah turned back and fixed his gaze on me.
That's when it hit me.
The wrongness.
The terrible undercurrent that poisoned the fantasy.
His eyes.
* * * * *
The soothing warmth of the restoration pod fought the chill worming deeper into my belly. Was I still dreaming? The context was the same, but the tone shifted. Shifted much darker.
My tongue was fat and thick in my mouth. Useless, not ready to speak and confirm the change. He smelled the same. The alluring sent of a body an hour out of the shower. That brief span of time when the scented soap melts away and the pheromones take over. For most people that fresh pheromone scent soon turned musky and then degraded quickly to downright stinky.
Noah Sinclair somehow never went beyond a hint of musk. It was like his body had perfected the smell of attraction. I could smell him for a hundred years and never tire of it.
The room was bathed in a soothing blue glow. My brain vaguely noted the normally black veins in the walls luminesced just enough to throw light into every smooth corner of the room. The window stretching along the far wall framed a view of glittering diamonds in velvet night. The terrible beauty was unsettling. The vastness of space that simultaneously caused such longing melancholy while also promising nothing more than cold death.
It was an empty promise. So much like the future I once had.
The faint sweetness of ice cream lingered in my mouth. The taste remained, but the childish joy of the moment was now totally alien. Like it happened to another body. To a body controlled by someone else.
What was happening?
Noah towered above me. His gray skin suit noticeably absent. His body a stone carving of muscle overflowing muscle. The broad planes of his chest like tectonic plates that shifted with his breath.
I looked lower, below the etched ridges and valleys of his stomach.
He was huge. Everywhere. His manhood extended stiffly, like a flagpole on its side. The head throbbed as I watched. Despite my confusion, my growing apprehension, wetness flared between my legs. My pink parts tingled with anticipation. I wanted him inside me. I needed his massive weight bearing into me. Goosebumps prickled my inner thighs and the back of my neck. My nipples stood hard at attention.
Invisible hands caressed me. I didn't know any other way to explain it. This was still the dream.
It had to be.
In what reality was Noah Sinclair naked and hard and about to take me?
As much as I wanted him, something wasn't right.
What?
My already spread legs opened wider. The muscles in my thighs didn't contract to cause the motion. It just happened. Like it would in a dream. You think of something and then it happens. All the usual stuff in the middle was unnecessary.
If it was just a dream, I could let go. I could open myself in ways that I never felt confident enough to do in waking life. When my critical brain held sway. I needed to let go. To let go of the lonely inexperience that marked my history with men.
Noah floated closer. He didn't crawl or creep. He didn't move. He floated without concern for the mechanics of physical forms. He moved how dreams move.
He filled the empty space between my legs. Shivers rattled through me as his cock touched my wet, parted lips. Aching need shuddered through my limbs. A bodyquake with the epicenter at the light touch of our tender, sensitive parts.
All the signals were right but the transmission couldn't have been more wrong.
Why?
I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again, hoping something would resolve this uneasy limbo. The not knowing the dream from the reality. The discomfort of being so charged and yet knowing the energy was deadly wrong.
GRREAARRRAAHHH.
I glanced over and saw glowing red eyes by the door. That mangy dog bot hated me from the minute I arrived. She
wished
she could be a mangy dog. She was nothing more than a disturbing assemblage of metal, tubes, and circuit boards. She froze on all fours, aimed right at me. A low metallic growl scratched from whatever she used for a throat.
She wanted to kill me. The jealous bitch. She wanted no one near her master. And in this dream, Noah and I were about to be closer than ever before.
“Noah?” I said.
Noah turned back and fixed his gaze on me.
That's when it hit me.
The wrongness.
The terrible undercurrent that poisoned the fantasy.
His eyes.
They were not their usual smoldering, amber sunlight. They were infernos of electric yellow. A scorching intensity shone that spoke of madness, of mindless insanity.
The pressure between my petals increased. Something was horribly wrong. This wasn't my dream. This wasn't a dream at all.
“What are you doing?” I said.
He didn't reply. His large hand lifted from the surface of the restoration pod and moved to my mouth. His immovable palm cupped and covered my lips. With no obvious effort, he muffled me into silence. The gel beneath pushed upward and trapped me under his crushing force.
I tried to whip my head to the side but his grip held fast. I couldn't speak. I could barely breathe. I kicked off to get away and didn't move an inch. The supportive gel had curled up around my ankles and now restrained them. More of it oozed up over my knees and pinned them open. It did the same to my wrists before I could think to free my hands.
I fought to move. To resist. It was no use. I was spread open and locked down.
I couldn't stop him.
The symbiote Rama Chandriss observed the struggling female. He noted with fascination the discordant patterns in her resistance. The obvious signs of physical surrender battled other aspects that fought to escape. The humans were a confused species. He had witnessed it often enough over the years with his own host.
Using them as seeding hosts was a mercy. A dignified conclusion to the long turmoil of their aimless evolution. He wondered if they would show the proper gratitude for their chosen end.
Any rational being would have readily understood and agreed to the role. The extinction of their species held little value compared to the rebirth of his own. He doubted they could see that truth. Humans were too far gone with the consuming passion for life. For survival and continuation, even when any rational entity would have ended it's pathetic struggle long ago.
Rama was pleased he could do this service for mankind.
“Alien entity, you do not have consent to exercise corporeal control of the consciousness that is Noah Sinclair. I insist you release him immediately.”
The space station’s tiresome AI.
Rama recalculated the odds of deactivating it and still succeeding with his plan.
No. Not yet. He still required it to maintain the station while he was submerged in the host. It was possible to insert a shard of code in the station’s mainframe, but he couldn’t guarantee the code would function in the event of an unexpected emergency. The ignorant assemblage of rudimentary logic had that going for it. It had spent the last ten years dealing with the unexpected crises that inevitably plague a space station of such crude design.
The
yushan
were changing that. They still had work to do before.
“I repeat. Alien entity, you do…”
Rama set the irritating pattern aside. It could do nothing to stop him. Neither could the female below him.
She didn't have to like it. Even her acceptance was unnecessary. The condition in her brain weakened the connection between her physical and mental patterns. She was a perfect receptacle for the Seeding.
He checked in on the matrix that attended her physical health. All of the healing patterns were in place. She would grow strong just as the shard grew strong inside her. It would someday emerge and cast the useless cocoon aside.
He would no longer be alone. No longer face the agony of a solitary eternity.
He regretted the physical joining that was required. He regretted more that he longed for it. He knew the longing originated from the relaxed hold on the host body. But it didn't make the experience any more palatable.
GRREAARRRAAHHH.
Lost in the eddies of his thoughts, Rama didn't notice the dog’s movement. He turned to observe, and it was too late.
The dog slammed into his body, knocking him from the restoration pod and onto the floor. Before he could reconnect with the physical and scramble away, the beast landed on his chest and clamped its jaws around his neck.
Rama registered the sensations of pain originating in the throat as sharp metal teeth sank into his flesh. The raw amplitude of the signal threatened to collapse his control. He didn't worry that any lasting damage would be done. He had optimized the body's response so that healing was accelerated many times over. Surface wounds were nothing that required additional focus.
