Sexy Space Babes - Mechs, Maidens and Macaroons: Chapter Twenty Three

Mark didn’t hesitate to knock on Jelara’s apartment door – even if he wanted nothing more than to go back to his own apartment and strip out of this ridiculous outfit.

He didn’t though, he stood in place and waited, bag of takeout in one hand.

And he ended up waiting a while. Long enough that any normal person would have left. He didn’t though. Not least of all because he knew Jelara was home.

He could hear the sound of music through the door. Something local that he was pretty sure he’d heard Saria listening to at some point. To his ear it didn’t sound all that much different from metal on Earth.

Which was to say, mindless noise.

The vibrations transferred through the door in the form of lots of drums, another instrument that seemed similar to a guitar - and a lot of squelching that he was pretty sure was the Ulnus equivalent of screaming.

He knocked again. Loudly. The kind of loudly that would still be heard over the racket within. Just as he had the first time.

And though he had to wait another few minutes, eventually, the door to the apartment did crack open a few moments after the music was switched off.

Jelara… didn’t look great. While her body was alien enough that he was still learning all her cues, he’d figured out enough to know that what an Ulnus was feeling mostly came down to hue.

And Jelara’s were a cloudy mess of grey, greens and reds.

“Hey, Jelara,” he said, his voice soft, holding up a collection of food he’d pilfered from the party – much to Kalia’s amusement when he stepped into her limo. “You eaten yet?"

The alien shifted, the body underneath her suit practically roiling as she responded tiredly. “Not tonight Mark. This one would not be good company. We’d rather be alone.”

That said, she moved to shut the door without preamble.

Which Mark wasn’t about to let happen as he – in a move he’d never normally do – stepped inside, the small baggie of food he was holding swinging wildly as he slipped past the surprised alien.

“So, what I’m hearing is that you haven’t eaten yet,” he said casually as he took a moment to glance around. “And you’ve had a shit day. Want to talk about it? Preferably with food?”

It was peak ‘pretty privilege’ at work that he hadn’t immediately been grabbed by the scruff and chucked out for what he’d just done. After all, a ‘cute girl’ slipping into your apartment uninvited was… different from just about anyone else doing the same.

Especially if she brought food.

Instead, Jelara just kind of… stared at him as he glanced around her place for somewhere to put dinner down.

It was a bit messy. Takeout containers littered the floor, while the sink was full of dishes that looked like they’d been there for a while.

A single chair dominated the room, sat across from an ancient looking TV. And not a nice chair either. It was a tattered looking foldout thing that was likely intended for camping rather than interior decorating. At the base of the TV sat what he thought was some kind of gaming system, hooked up to some ratty looking gloves and a single worn headset.

Oh, wait, he’d been wrong when he said the room had no table. Assuming one counted a desk as a table.

Unfortunately, said item of furniture wasn’t really a viable option for him to dump his takeout bag on. Because every square inch of surface area was already occupied by machine parts and tools. As well as a decent chunk of the floor around the desk.

All in all, it was the penultimate image of a bachelor pad. The kind one generally associated with a young man living alone for the first time – or an older man who’d just come out of a nasty divorce.

Not that Jelara occupied either of those categories as far as he was aware, but he couldn’t deny that those were the two stereotypes he thought of as he stared out at the sad state of the apartment in front of him.

“Do you have any plates?” he asked without judgement as he turned back. “Maybe a second chair? Oh, and some utensils? If not, I can head back to my place and grab some.”

Jelara just continued to stare at him before she let out another gurgle that he was pretty sure was an approximation of a sigh.

“This one has another chair,” she said finally. “And a foldout table.”

Putting words to action, she reached into a nearby pile of parts and pulled out both items without preamble, unfolding them both with quick deliberate actions.

“Ah, thanks,” Mark said with a smile as he put the food down, quickly pulling out the many takeaway boxes within.

As he did, he continued to be well aware of the rather intense stare Jelara was still giving him. She’d rather notably not taken a seat, instead just standing there as he laid out a small smorgasbord of very expensive food.

Nothing from Earth – he wasn’t quite that shameless, but it was still a sizeable collection of entrees that he’d managed to pilfer from the party’s kitchens.

As he worked though, he kept trying to think of how best to broach the topic he’d originally come here to. That being whether or not Jelara was actually the power-armored pilot from earlier tonight.

At this point, he was pretty sure she was, but some part of him was rather hoping that he was wrong.

Because if he was right, it meant that Jelara had stuck her neck out to help him in a way that could well have lasting consequences for her future piloting aspirations.

Now, it was possible he was overthinking things and that Tarek would simply accept that her chosen pilot had lost and move on… but he doubted it. She didn’t seem the sort to let that kind of failure go unpunished.

“Well?” he said as he presented the small feast. “What do you think?”

Jelara glanced down at the table full of food, but said nothing.

“I know you said you wanted to be alone,” he continued a little sheepishly. “But I was sort of hoping this’d lift your spirits a little. It’s some really fancy stuff.”

The alien’s silence continued.

“And I’m totally willing to clear out now. I just wanted to… help cheer you up. Make sure you ate something, you know?”

And that was true – because even if he had been concerned for her, he really had overstepped by barging in like this.

Before he could say anything else though, Jelara finally moved.

She reached up and unclasped her suit’s visor with a small hiss. Pulling the mask away, her entire body shivered for a moment before the whole suit ‘fell away’. Or at least, that was sort of what it looked like. If one accepted the idea that a suit falling away could be the result of the body inside flowing out through the ‘face’ like a roll of toothpaste being squeezed out of the tube.

Or a balloon deflating.

It was… a pretty incredible sight and one made all the more so by the smoothness with which his neighbor did it. In moments, she was stood there, entirely ‘naked’ as the suit and her visor clattered to the floor.

Idly, she picked up one of the shrimp looking things and placed it into her ‘face’ – the small morsel disintegrating within moments as it sank into her semi-transparent depths.

“At this point, this one is beginning to wonder if it’s intentional?” she finally said, her tone studiously neutral.

“Intentional?” he asked.

“This?” she gestured to him. “You. Walking in here without a care in the world. Into a woman’s apartment. A dangerous woman. Because this one is a dangerous woman, Mark.”

Mark scratched his neck. “Well, I mean, I know that. But I don’t think that’s really a factor here? Is it? I didn’t think you’d get… violent or something like that because I got a bit presumptive.”

And that was the truth. He could well admit he didn’t know Jelara all that well, but he liked to think she was a good person. Dangerous, yes, but good in spite of it all.

“Violent?” She gurgled in what he knew from experience was a laugh. “No. With you being a man that wasn’t the kind of danger this one meant.”

A man? What did that have to do with him being in danger?

Mark felt his head tilt to the side slightly. “Then what do you-”

“It almost makes this one want to teach you a lesson.” She paused. “For your own good. To keep you from continuing to get in trouble over and over again.”

He made a small surprised grunt as she stepped forward, pushing him to the ground in a single movement. He let out a small gasp of air as her body weight settled atop him, the sensation different from another human.

It felt a bit like a weighted blanket.

“It’d practically be a public service,” she hissed. “The fact that it would go some way to relieving this one’s considerable frustration would simply be a side benefit.”

Ah, now he got what she meant.

He was ‘defenseless’ as a guy.

Which he felt was a little unfair given they’d already slept together. Of course he’d be casual about coming in here.

Of course, even if he’d been suffering a bit of cultural blindness in this conversation up until now, he was savvy enough to recognize that Jelara’s words were less about him in general and likely more a result of the evening’s events.

In which he’d rather casually allowed himself to be used as a sexual wager.

And given Jelara had – likely! – been the one to step in and save him from being used in that manner, without being prompted, she was probably feeling just a little frustrated by his… casualness in that regard.

So he didn’t move as she just stared down at him. Because that was all she did as she sat atop him, her gelatinous form pulsing, but otherwise unmoving. Almost as if she was waiting for something. For him to shriek perhaps? Or yell? Or fight?

Like most people would quite reasonably do after suddenly being pushed down by a member of the opposite sex with clearly amorous intent and no clear cut consent prior to making that move.

Instead, he simply unbuttoned one of the buttons of his top.

A full body shiver went through the alien as she stared down at him.

“You. Damn. Satyr,” she gurgled. “Is that why you’re so casual with yourself? Because you’re just that damn horny!? Well fine then! If that’s what you want, I might as well give it to you.”

Clearly the alien was about to use his body to work out a considerable amount of frustration on him.

Which was fine.

He figured he owed her that much.

And he’d be lying if he said that, circumstances aside, some part of it didn’t excite him. In ways that he’d very much not have felt with Tarek.

Jelara was different.

Besides, they could talk things through afterwards. As he’d intended to do after they’d eaten. Even if he was now almost a hundred percent sure Jelara really had been the one in that suit.

He couldn’t see why else she’d be so ‘pissed’ at him.

Then there was no more time for thought as her hands tore at his frilled shirt, buttons scattering across the floor before bumping into discarded takeout or mech parts.

He winced. Naturally.

“You think that was bad, human? You have no idea what Tarek would have done to you,” Jelara hissed.

Which almost made Mark chuckle. Because she’d just unwittingly confirmed that she was the pilot he’d met earlier that night – and because she thought he’d winced because her tearing his shirt had frightened him.

No, it had just been a very expensive shirt.

Still, if she was deriving some kind of catharsis by thinking otherwise, he was in no hurry to correct her.

Also – it was kind of hot so see her so worked up. Something his body failed to hide as his hardened his cock rose to full mast as best it could within the confines of his pants.

Which she very much noticed, scoffing as she ground herself against him. “You’re hopeless. A satyr to the core.”

She didn’t waste time before scooting down his body to yank his pants down with a brutal, impatient tug. His underwear naturally went with the rather tight garment, exposing his throbbing, erect cock to the evening air.

The sudden sensation of coolness was a sharp electrifying jolt against the head. One that was soon accompanied by the feeling of her yielding jelly-like hands gripping his thighs to pry them apart.

“I wonder, would you get this hard for just anyone?” she hissed, her core pulsing with a flush of both red and green as she moved up to straddle him. “I bet you would, wouldn’t you?”

Mark resisted the urge to argue that point – because on some level there was truth there.

A hesitation the alien didn’t fail to notice as she lowered herself down, the faint squish of her body against his a total contrast to the rather uncomfortable hard floor against his back.

She ground her newly ‘formed’ dripping, swollen pussy against his shaft, the wet, slick pressure teasing his cock mercilessly. It made for a hell of a view, the lips of her newly formed organ swollen beyond the norm for a human, a deep purplish color that contrasted with Jelara’s own light blue.

He made to move in response, only to stop as her hands wrapped around his wrists and pinned them above his head.

“None of that now,” she muttered. “I’m in charge.”

Now, there were correct answers to that statement.

Subjectively correct ones.

Factually correct ones.

Wise answers.

Clever answers.

“Prove it.” Was none of those things.

Yet those were the words that slipped from his mouth.

Still, correct or not, it was worth it to see the ripple that slipped through the Ulnus’s entire body as his words registered.

Then she started to do exactly that!

“You damn brat!” She started to move – and  where a human might have needed to ‘guide him in’, her lips moved like living a creature as they enveloped his cock in a tight, pulsing, wet embrace.

He groaned. He couldn’t help it. As she sank down on top of him, pulling him into her depths.

She felt damn good.

“Yeah, that’s right,” she grunted as she started to ride him in earnest. “Try and talk back now.”

There was no grace or harmony to her movements either. Each thrust a release of pent-up anger and frustration as her jelly-like body danced atop him.

She set a punishing, relentless pace, her pussy clenching around his cock with each powerful movement of her hips.

Though Mark was entirely pliant, grinning as his hips bucked up to meet her forceful thrusts, enjoying the way his ‘resistance’ only drove her to further try and dominate him.

An attempt that was rather doomed to failure.

He’d allowed her to be on top last time after all. And out of respect for her frustration he’d allowed her to start this particular dance. Even now he was letting her play out her little act of ‘revenge’ without complaint.

But he was only human.

And Jelara wasn’t the only one who’d had a rather frustrating evening. Because while Mark took a certain amount of enjoyment in his role as the ‘weaker sex’ and the advantages it provided – he still had his pride.

He just preferred to keep it buried most of the time.

“Agh-urk?” the Ulnus cried as he suddenly shifted, unpinning his hands as he gripped her hips and flipped her over.

Now he was on top, his cock buried between her spread legs and as he continued his thrusting. Jelara gasped as he continued moving, her smooth, gelatinous skin quivering as she stared up at him in surprise, a yellow hue of surprise shooting through her. “What- what do you think you’re doing?”

“Being Satyric,” Mark chuckled, before he silenced her with a final deep, forceful thrust, his hips driving forward with a power that made her moan.

She didn’t give up control easily. In fact, she managed to wrestle him back to the floor more than once.

At first.

It was around the time of his second time spurting into her – and he had no idea how many times she’d reached her own orgasm – that the tables turned in earnest.

He’d set a relentless pace, his cock plunging into her wet, pulsing depths, over and over again. Each stroke sapping each of their stamina’s as they fucked and ‘fought’.

However, while Mark could freely admit that the Ulnus had been gifted a lot of fairly fancy tricks via the rigours of evolution – humanity had them beat in one fairly key area.

Stamina.

And where the admittedly very athletic Ulnus’s stamina flagged after the first hour – he could still keep going. He was a guy in his prime with lots of energy to burn. And there was a certain feeling of primal satisfaction in the way her her jelly-like body eventually began to mould to his – his thrusts practically fucking the fight out of her.

 “Fuck, I can’t- I can’t…” she gasped.

By the third hour her hands were weakly clawing at his shoulders as he held her down with iron resolve, his hands gripping her hips with a possessive strength, pinning her writhing form to the against the side of the bed they’d slowly meandered to at some point.

At least, he thought it was a bed. It looked a lot like a bathtub to be honest.

But it was perfectly sized for bending the alien over backwards in a way that might have snapped the spinne of a more ‘solid’ night partner.

She writhed, almost coming apart, breaths coming in ragged, desperate gasps as he pounded into her. Another hour passed, as moans turned to whimpers, her hands pushing weakly against his chest, her violet hue dimming with exhaustion.

“Mercy,” she gasped finally, her voice a broken, submissive plea after four hours of unyielding fucking, her pussy pulsing around him, her core flickering weakly. “You win, you damn satyr.”

It was like music to his ears – not least of all because while he had more stamina than most, he was certainly feeling the strain after four hours.

Friction wasn’t really an issue with a gelatinous partner, but there was no denying that she was surprisingly heavy. And by this point, he was being forced to hold her up as her entire form had started to sag, slipping through his fingers like dripping viscous honey.

“Alright then,” he finally grunted.

With a final, earth-shattering thrust, he buried his cock as deep as he could into her insides. Thick cum erupted inside her, her pussy ‘walls’ having long since dissolved into a syrupy mess, so his cum spurted out to form a cloud inside her.

She cried out, their mutual orgasm crashing through them like a tsunami as their bodies shuddered in unison.

Then she melted fully, sliding into the bath with a wet slurp.

And it was all Mark could do not to drown in the now half-full bathtub as he slid in after her. Only a last minute gripping of the side kept him from going in face first, instead sliding in with a modicum of control such that he was… basically sitting in the bath.

It was… surprisingly comfortable. Like lying in a big pool of warm jello.

“Uh, you’re ok, right?” he asked belatedly as he realized that the pool he was lying in was Jelara.

“Fine. Physically. Though this one’s pride is stung. You damn satyr,” she grumbled quietly.

Mark just grinned – even as he felt the pull of sleep trying to pull him down into slumber with the onset of post-nut clarity.

Unfortunately, that would have to wait.

He had questions – and he figured there’d be few moments in which Jelara was more pliable than she was right now. Sure, he’d originally planned for her to attain that state by stuffing her full of food, but this other variant of stuffing worked just as well for his purposes.

So, ignoring just how strange it felt to be talking to… a puddle he was currently lying in, he sat up a bit. “Jelara?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled sleepily.

“Why’d you take a dive for me?” he asked.

And gods did it feel weird a moment later as he felt it as her entire body stiffen at once.