6
Chuck Has a New Experience
I am certain I don’t desire to be eaten. For one thing, I would have to find a brand-new host and then break it in. Unnecessary work when I have a perfectly good host already.
“I think not, young larva.”
He raises his eyebrows at me. I believe that’s human for incredulity. “You don’t want me to blow you? Also, calling me a larva is the exact opposite of sexy. Cut that the fuck out.”
I will attempt to translate this. Larva is not something humans wish to be called, and eating must be a euphemism for sucking my cock or dick. Blowing makes little sense, however. Mouth language is so needlessly complicated . “I’d think sucking would be far more effective than blowing.”
Travis Pritzker laughs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, dude. My plan is to suck your cock. Or Dr. Foster’s cock. Someone’s cock, as long as that someone gives me something in return.” His mouth comes close to my dick or cock but doesn’t close the final distance. It’s maddening.
“What sort of something? You’re going to end up consumed and assimilated into this host’s body. What sort of favor does food wish to have?”
“I want an A on my next exam, asshole. Promise me an A and I will rock your pod-person world. And if you don’t give me an A, I’ll complain to student affairs about how you offered me a better grade if I’d blow you.”
“I thought I made myself clear. I want sucking, not blowing.”
My larva rolls his eyes again. “I will suck your eyeballs out through your dick, prof.”
“That doesn’t sound at all pleasant or enjoyable.” My face frowns in displeasure.
“It is when I do it. So will you give me my A or not?”
It’s a harmless enough request, I suppose. The larva won’t survive long enough to enjoy it, but this is his wish, not mine. My wish is that he’ll get on with sucking my cock or dick immediately.
“It is a mutually binding agreement, Travis Pritzker. Start your part of our bargain now.”
There is more eye rolling but finally the larva puts my cock or dick into his mouth and sucks. There seems to be no blowing at all. In truth, I’m not sure how my young prey is breathing and I’m fairly certain this is required by all humans, not just adults. Then Charles, assimilated but still there, makes my/his/our hands grab the larva’s hair and hold his face flush to my/his/our groin. I think the larva/boy will truly die, which seems a shame as I wanted to play with him longer before inevitable consumption, but then Charles releases our grip and Travis pulls away, spluttering and gasping for breath.
To my vast surprise, Travis does not look affronted in the slightest way. His eyes have gone from blue to black. This is a sign of arousal, Charles assures me.
“Oh my god, prof, yeah. Fuck my mouth. Just like that. Jesus.” Travis draws my/his/our dick into his mouth and grabs onto my posterior. He freezes for a second after gripping a tentacle in each hand, then relaxes and slumps. Only his grip on me remains firm. And his dick or cock. That is also very firm and making a large bulge in his lower clothing.
This body I now occupy knows exactly what to do and I pay attention as much as I’m able. The larva seems to be enjoying himself. He moans around my dick or cock while his hand moves over his own clothed erection.
My assimilated memories provide a flood of images of the larva. No, not exactly memories. They are too specific and yet indistinct for that. Fantasies, I believe they are called. Memories humans make for themselves. It is a curious thing, one I’d like to study further, then something else overtakes me. I want to ejaculate my reproductive fluid into the larva’s mouth, watching the creamy liquid drip from his full lips and down his chin. Then I see myself with my organ deep inside the larva’s body. It seems unlikely, and unproductive, then I imagine how much tighter and hotter that channel would be than the larva’s mouth and nearly ejaculate right then. I am able to hold it back, though, thanks to this body’s vestigial self-control. What a marvelous specimen I’ve chosen to inhabit.
Another manufactured memory surfaces in my mind. I fuck the larva’s mouth while another copulates inside the boy’s anus. For a moment I wish Charles Foster was not my host so we could use the boy together. Alas, not an option. Then a new manufactured memory, one that couldn’t have possibly originated with my host, blazes in my brain like a beacon.
It is all so obvious. I see that now.