The Transformation Story Archive Strange Things and other Changes

The Bestialist

by Remus Shepherd

Yes, I usually meet them at crowded bars. I prefer to enter in midevening, when alcohol has just begun to fog people's minds and the conversations are at their peak. That night, I remember, the establishment was more crowded than seemed as if hundreds of people were there, flirting, chattering, adding their personal, peculiar noises to the din.

Beneath my skinsuit, my antennae twitched reflexively, caught in a maelstrom of alien emotions. These humans, so appealing as individuals, always alarm me in large numbers. Tightening my control, I obtained a refreshment and sat down to monitor the room.

Soon I sensed a young woman talking animatedly, her energetic thoughts like flashes of light. Looking around the room, I spied her at the bar, lost in conversation with a man who wished to take her home that night.

From my corner seat, I reached into the male's mind and turned off his instincts to mate. Then I sat back and waited, monitoring the pair with half an antennae. It took nearly an hour...but eventually he politely excused himself from her company, and I was able to take his place.

There are those who claim that one is attracted to one's opposite. I know that to be the case. Surrounded by a mane of golden hair, the human's face seemed grotesquely soft compared to my species; the thick limbs and pliable skin were the stuff of nightmares. But I found these creatures desirable -- had always found them desirable. And the one who sat before me had the beauty that comes with youth; a trait that I could recognize even in this alien race.

Her mind was young also; vibrant, with a trusting spirit. Beginning a conversation with her took only a few words...and making her desire me took only the merest tug at her thoughts. Quickly, our conversation became personal, even intimate. Feeling in her mind for the best responses, I stood ready with the words she wished to hear.

I feel no shame at the deception. It's not as if the poor creature could have possibly understood the truth. And I know, as I know my own mind, that what she wanted from me was no more than what I wanted from her.

Soon we agreed to leave the bar together, and she invited me to her home before I could push her into doing so.

More talk followed at her home; a delicate courtship that could not be rushed. I did not wish to frighten her or ruin her trusting thoughts, and if she needed conversation to mate, I was willing to provide it. I have grown used to the courtship of humans; in fact, I may know more about it than I know of my own kind. But then, I had never mated with my own kind...had never felt as excited near my people as I felt when I first touched this human's breast.

Through my skinsuit, I marveled at the alien softness of her body...the gentle curves of her strange form. Carefully, I mimicked the appropriate motions, and let her explore what portions of the skinsuit I could allow her to touch. Her emotions grew more primal...her desires began to surge, with me as the object of her lust. The intensity of her excitement fueled my own, and my antennae trembled beneath the skinsuit in expectation.

When I sensed that she was receptive, I carried the female to her bedroom. Then, making sure the lights were dim -- for the skinsuit is not perfect -- I undressed us both, and began to envelop her mind.

Changing her perceptions was a necessary act, though distasteful. What she felt entering her was the penis of my skinsuit -- but instead I inserted my ovipositor, and for the first time, her soft flesh met my hard carapace. Her tender folds clenched on me with surprising strength, a delicious sensation...I returned the pleasure by thrusting deeper inside her, and writhing my ovipositor in a manner I had learned with other humans, at other times. She held tightly to my suit, as I grew inside her, pleasure racing through her body and flashing through her mind.

Through the open mouth of my skinsuit, I extended my mandibles and nibbled at her soft flesh, seeking regions where the sensations would please. Her pleasure mounted, driving my own. In my excitement and against my will, my ovipositor began to leak gametes into her womb. But she seemed receptive to the sensation, and it drove her pleasure gingerly I shot a stream of gametes deep inside her, knowing that they would soon die in her alien body. With my fluids inside her, and my hard ovipositor still thrusting into her softness, her pleasure began to peak...her body had received the stimulus it had required. I prepared, then, to take what I needed from her.

As I sensed orgasm first rolling through her body, I took hold of her mind and held it fast, trapping her in the sensation for a brief span of seconds. My antennae extruded from the skinsuit and touched her forehead, linking directly to her scintillating mind. Her energies washed over the link, enveloping me, as I let loose her orgasm and felt it explode through her brain. Her climax touched my mind like an electrical surge, a jolt that we experienced as one being and held onto together, so that time stopped for us both.

There are those who say that to do this to a human is wrong; that the beast knows nothing of what has transpired. Humans, they say, cannot possibly understand this act. But my experience says otherwise; for though her mating and mine were different actions, we were giving each other pleasure, and she wanted her orgasm as much as I desired my own. Although neither of us fully understood what the other was feeling, we gave to each other as best we could. There was nothing else for her to understand. She needed nothing more in her world than the tremors that shook through her writhing body as I lay atop, shuddering within my skinsuit and twisting helplessly inside her.

I can never remember how long such moments last. But all too soon, my senses returned to me, and I withdrew myself from her soft folds of alien flesh. I lingered within her mind a while, trying to memorize her wondrous energies. But she stirred, and I had to push her gently into sleep so that I could leave her.

And, after making certain that the skinsuit again covered me completely, leave her I did...for feelings of guilt or affection were useless and often painful, as I knew from past encounters.

What I desire has little to do with affection, and the tender understanding of an alien eye. What I desire has nothing to do with guilt; guilt is for those who harm, not for those who pleasure.

What I desire is nothing more than matings which last a single evening. What I desire is sex.

What I desire are beasts.

The Bestialist copyright 1996 by Remus Shepherd.

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