Interspecies Breeding

by clownish (theshortking)

Summary:

“Oi, are you okay—” A loud thud resonated in the still air. Mafioso winces, a mixture of shock and uncertainty oribiting in his iris' as he stares blankly up at the creature who has a powerful death grip on his freshly tailored suit. And yet, for some reason, the greenish, alien-like creature seems to be in more pain than the man who cushioned its landing.

“Do you realize what you’re putting me through?” Chance’s voice cracks, betraying his vulnerability as he seeks refuge against the man’s fabric, allowing the warmth to envelop him despite the turmoil inside.

“Don’t you understand what you’re doing to me? You’re driving me insane.”

Or,

Chance is an intergalactic alien, prioritizing the need to produce healthy, sustainable offspring over any other "human" emotions. But soon enough, he recognizes the weight of his entire species rests solely on his shoulders, and sets out to find his perfect mate.

Mates are chosen based on compatibility, strength, endurance, and breeding capabilities—nothing more. So, you can imagine Chance's surprise when he travels light-years, crossing the Milky Way galaxy to meet his soulmate, only to discover that the breeding partner assigned to him by interstellar fate is a human being. A weak, feeble-minded, fragile, and repulsive human.

Initially, he loathes everything about the human race. His observations of the Mafia, with whom his partner was rumored to be affiliated, revealed a dark, grim planetary world brimming with brutality and greed. He watches over a vast period of time as they inhale toxic fumes from their cigars and guns, reveling in the power they wield over life and death. Their ruthless murders of rivals were carried out with chilling precision, and their mantra of taking no prisoners left a trail of destruction in their wake.

To him, humans were puzzling, foolish creatures—soft, squishy flesh with an array of toy rockets and colorful missiles at their disposal. The idea that this man, this human, could hold the key to saving his species from mass extinction and repopulating his alien kind seems almost like the beginning of a very graceless joke.

He watches and observes from afar. Not because he wants to, but because he has to.

Chance tells himself they stay within proximity for his instincts' sake. Humans are vulnerable and defenseless; they don't understand the universe's dangers and need some sort of protection.

Though it is far from protection, it is possession.

As this train of thought barrels onward, he can never in a millennium imagine himself stooping so low as to mate with a human being. That's until he suddenly can. The thought, both aggravating and intrusive, fogs his rational pursuits and takes over. This particular subspecies of aliens cannot go without multiplying for long; evolution burns, woven into his consciousness with intricate needles in thread.

What starts as innocent, rational surveillance becomes a borderline obsession.  

Although in this unfamiliar terrain, Chance struggles to stay six feet above ground level. Not used to this level of compressive gravity for extended durations, it begins to take its toll on his weak form. And that's how they manage to catch him. He struggles to maintain his human-like appearance as he drifts into unconsciousness, only to be taken by a gang of unseen individuals, all clothed in the same jet-black attire he's been observing for the past month.

When he finally comes to, he's greeted by a black, void-like existence; his head wrapped in a shaggy brown sack.

Chance can hear the sound of voices, fierce yet unfamiliar, almost bickering. One voice in particular catches his attention; his antennae twitch at the sound. At that moment, he discovers that the mate he has traveled the galaxy in search of is mere feet away.

"But boss, this thing has been stalking you for weeks, don't you think it should be dealt with accordingly?" A voice emerges—argumentative, yet expressed with a sense of submission to the person in power.

“Leave him and get out,” comes the curt command, a tone laced with authority that brooks no argument.  

"Yes, boss." The muffled sounds of the heavy door slamming shut reverberate through the dim room, shaking the atmosphere with finality.  

A pair of rough hands work quickly to untie the ropes binding his wrists, the fibers biting into his skin now slackening their hold. As the suffocating sack lifts from his head, the dim light reveals a space laden with shadows, the air thick with tension, and the scent of toxins.  

When his senses finally clear, Chance finds himself kneeling before a man he has devoted countless days and sleepless nights to track down—his long-sought target, the figure shrouded in mystery and danger. At that moment, the pain of isolation transforms into an unyielding resolve as the weight of his journey presses heavily upon his shoulders. he can't hold himself back.

“Oi, are you okay—” A loud thud resonated in the still air. Mafioso winces, a mixture of shock and uncertainty orbiting in his iris as he stares blankly up at the creature who has a powerful death grip on his freshly tailored suit. And yet, for some reason, the greenish, alien-like creature seems to be in more pain than the man who cushioned its landing.

"You," Chance begins, his voice trembling with the weight of unspoken emotions.

There is so much he wants to unleash—an overwhelming tide of resentment that threatens to consume him. He loathes the very essence of this man. He can’t stand the jarring sounds he makes, the soft body that seems almost too delicate, too inviting. The naïve opinions that pour forth are infuriating, as if they hold any real significance in the vast landscape of the cosmos. Chance hates him fiercely, and yet, he relies on him for survival.

“Do you realize what you’re putting me through?” Chance’s voice cracks, betraying his vulnerability as he seeks refuge against the man’s fabric, allowing the warmth to envelop him despite the turmoil inside. “Don’t you understand what you’re doing to me? You’re driving me insane.”

It hurts. He's most definitely burning alive. Chance can't stand it, it feels as if water dared touch his skin, it would evaporate instantly into a fine vapor. His insides are scorching, wildfire running rapidly inside as he struggles to regain control.

"It's so hot..." Chance pants out, his body no longer feeling like his own; this sensation is alien to even himself.

A hand gently grazes the fine hairs on the back of the foreign alien's neck, sending a comet sensation shooting down his spine. Mafioso, despite being completely in the dark about what is happening, senses an unspoken connection between him and this unusual creature. He has no understanding of the alien's background or experiences, yet there is an undeniable bond between them—something even a mere human could recognize. It feels as though their souls are tethered together, an invisible thread compelling him to offer comfort to this being from a far-distant world.

Chance feels himself thawing; the touch is gentle, icy, and devoid of any attachments, and yet, offers an almost reassuring coolness against his boiling flesh. He expected to be disgusted by the grimy contact of human skin, but instead, he wanted more.

"I can't wait any longer... huu please, you need to breed with me," Comes the sharp whine.

Mafioso lies frozen for a moment too long, his mind racing as he struggles to find the right words. Caught completely off guard by the sudden "breeding" proposal, he felt a rush of uncertainty wash over him, leaving him at a loss for how to respond.

His usual confidence falters as he searches for a way to regain his composure, aware that every second counts.

There's an unmistakable hardness rutting against his inner thighs, mashing their bodies together as a fit of longing takes hold. Mafioso feels the erect imprint of the alien's abnormally large cock placed on full display through his tightened pants. It merely huffs in his ear as some inhuman mass prods around his hole, covering the fabric in slick, milky precome.

Mafioso, fed up with the nonsensical tomfoolery of this alien, suddenly unleashes a powerful kick aimed at its midsection. The impact sends the creature reeling backward as the alien grunts in surprise and pain, its limbs flailing momentarily before it slumps against the hard surface. The chill of the wooden floor contrasts sharply with the warmth of his skin, but it isn't enough.

"Do that again and I'll rearrange your jaw," Mafioso hisses, his voice low and menacing.

He leans closer, the dim light casting shadows across his sharp features. "Look, I know you're not from around here, but that's not how you ask someone for a favor." Despite the harshness of his words, there's a flicker of curiosity in his eyes, suggesting he's contemplating the idea of hooking up with a previously unknown species. This rare opportunity presented itself as a once-in-a-lifetime chance, one Mafioso still isn't sure if he's ready to blindly give up.

"Mmm...!" Chance reluctantly hums as the man's shoes nudged against his waistline. He isn't a mindless pervert, heavens no, he isn't some creep who would usually drool over the human he's only met once, but right now, there's little he can do to interfere with his biology. It feels so good, but still, it isn't enough. 

The situation is dangerous; his desperation is palpable, growing more intense by the second. Every ounce of self-discipline he possesses is required to suppress his overwhelming urge to pounce on the unexpected man once again. As he wrestles with his instincts, the sanity he once held dear, now fleeting without a moment's notice, becomes tempered and defective.

"Go on," the voice taunts, a low, mocking lilt echoing through the air, "Show me why you deserve my sympathy."

With a heavy heart and trembling limbs, Chance crawls on all fours, desperation painting his face. The foot pressing against his midsection feels like a sin, tightening with every shallow breath he takes. His eyes shimmer with a blend of pain and yearning.

"It hurts... It hurts so bad," he gasps, his voice cracking under the pressure, "I didn't choose for you to be my soulmate either, so please... please, I just need this one favor, I need to lay my eggs inside you,"

"And why stalk me? Why not find someone else to tango with?" Mafioso needs answers, though now isn't the time for such trivial inquiries. 

"It's complicated... the fate of the universe has brought us together; it must be you." Chance explains, craving friction as he fondles himself against the sole of Mafioso's jet-black shoe. "Our species mates for life with their one true pair and no one else..."  

"For a species that only mates once, you're surprisingly horny."

Oddly enough, it's Mafioso who caves first to the irresistible allure of the moment. With a mix of curiosity and reckless abandonment, he leans forward. Their lips met in an unexpected collision—a sloppy, messy embrace reminiscent of a dance where neither mate quite knew the steps. The alien responds in kind, its unique physiology offering a softness that contrasts with the frantic energy of the kiss.

The alien creature approaches the kiss with a gentle, innocent curiosity, its delicate form hovering over Mafioso's. With careful precision, it explores the warm, moist interior, its tendrils softly brushing against his tongue. The sensation is rather unexpected—an odd mixture of ticklishness and intrigue—as it pats gently, almost coaxingly. As it pressed deeper into the lower regions of his tongue, a wave of overwhelming sensation washed over the human male, eyes pricking with unwarranted tears, but the sensation wasn't at all unpleasant. He feels so good, but this isn't enough. No, he requires more.

Chance feels like the weight of the galaxy rests on his shoulders. When the kiss breaks, he's lost every shred of reasoning.

"Please let me do it, I want...need to be inside you," Chance corrects himself, burying his nose deep into the soft, inviting curve of Mafioso’s delicate neck. The warmth of the skin radiates against him, and as he inhales, the rich, intoxicating scent of human musk envelops him, evoking a primal sense of longing. Each breath is a blend of underlying warmth.

"Then have me," came the direct reply, and that's when he snapped.

Carelessly and frantically, his hand undoes the mob boss's belt, almost tearing the complex mechanism off in his struggle to unlatch it. This thing kept him from what he truly desires, and he will do anything to get what he came here for.

Chance inhales deeply once more, reveling in the intoxicating scent of his partner that lingers in the air. The fragrant notes wrap around him, a blend of warmth and familiarity that sends a shiver down his spine. With a sense of longing, he let his fingers glide gently along the waistline of his befitted mate's dress pants, feeling the soft fabric beneath his fingertips. Each subtle exploration stirs his emotions further, pushing the undergarments down with one swift motion and exposing the painfully erect cock, which strains as it lunges from its innermost confines, revealing the red tip already glistening with slick precome.

"So beautiful," Chance murmurs, his thoughts betraying him as he's caught in a trance-like state. Seizing this opportunity, he wastes no time removing his own restrictive clothes, peeling them from his skin layer by layer. 

The abnormality of his cock would’ve come as more of a shock if Chance wasn't an alien species from a completely unknown solar system. But instead of one, there are two.

They have a slick green sheen to them, showcasing a pair of elegantly tapered heads at both ends. Mafioso swallows hard, unable to pry his eyes away. They're much bigger than the average human, but the thought of having even one inside him sends an electric current pulsating through his veins.

Chance whines sharply, the unexpected contact encases his slime, oozing erection—it's cold, comforting, and oddly pacifying. The alien, not used to this unfamiliar sensation, tries to protest, opening his mouth to spit a nonsensical remark, but even his words backstab him.

This isn't how he envisioned breeding would be, he figured it would be a quick and simple pump and dump, nothing more. Little did he recognize the pleasures of sex he would've been missing out on.

Mafioso's hips are locked in a death grip, held down like helpless prey beneath the much stronger and much more advanced alien species. Pumping the abnormal cock in the palm of his hand, Mafioso watches the alien's form contort and shrivel into a compact ball, its energetic form now writhing before his eyes, and a wave of pleasure washes over him. The creature’s muscles quiver uncontrollably, each spasm a visible struggle against an overlooked force. Its breathing grows increasingly laborious, gasps intermixed with faint, desperate whines that echo in the stillness around them. The alien’s skin, which is now shimmering with bioluminescence, becomes a radiant compact of sea glass greens and blues.

"Ah, keep going... yeah, just like that, it feels so good," Chance bites his bottom lip, his words filtering out the unkept moans flying freely from his lips. His vision is littered with stardust, wanting one thing and one thing only, to spawn offspring.

"Have you ever touched here before?" Mafioso leans in closer, his intrigue evident as he boldly slips two fingers between the alien's glistening, salivating lips. Chance shook his head; the idea of doing something so lewd hadn't ever crossed his mind. The extraterrestrial's mouth, lined with strange, translucent membranes, engulfed his fingers, leaving them coated in a slick, clear saliva that shimmered in the dim light.

Chance moans, like only the speculative idea of touching Mafioso in more intimate areas, was more than enough to provide him pleasure.

The human circles the rim of his puckered hole with the damp, luminous fingers, blanketing it with spit, before pushing his cold, slender finger inside the tense space. He instinctively clenches, taking a moment to recover before forcing another finger into the mixing pot. Pumping them in and out while the alien watches in awe.

His eyes are wide saucers as he gazes at the man pinned beneath him, can't wait to see it; his partner's stomach swelling with his babies would seem like something out of a fairytale myth if he weren't living it right now. Chance can't come, not yet, not outside the much-desired womb. 

"Please...let me do it." Each word spills out, trembling slightly as if betraying the vulnerability he tries to mask. The urgency of his plea hangs in the air, dense with an emotional weight that makes it hard to ignore. It’s as though the very fabric of his hope is fraying, and he’s grasping at any chance for solace.

"You have to beg me to forgive you first, I wanna hear an apology," Mafioso teases him, denying him the very thing he has been longing for. Chance pants, bucking his hips inside the enclosed touch, not letting his seed spill just yet. 

He demands an apology for the countless nights the alien spent trailing him, an almost relentless pursuit. From dimly lit diners to crowded subway stations, it became impossible to ignore the extraterrestrial lurking in the shadows, its presence both unsettling and oddly intriguing. Chance had to admit, he thought he was slick, expertly blending into its surroundings while maintaining a watchful eye. Yet, despite his clever tactics, he ultimately slipped up, revealing himself in a moment of distraction. 

"'m sorry, please... forgive me," Chance sobs, eyes a waterwork of emotional turmoil. "I...I wanna put them in."

The raw and honest reaction caught the human completely off guard. At that moment, he wasn't expecting such vulnerability; there was something disarming about it. It stirred a peculiar sense of empathy within him. In a strangely twisted way, he found it almost endearing.

Mafioso groans, his fingers removing from his agape hole as his legs are forced to separate by this much stronger creature. Chance finds himself in a situation where he has to be careful not to harm him. Understanding the fragility of human beings, he's acutely aware of their emotional and physical vulnerabilities. To avoid causing any distress or injury, Chance took deliberate measures to avoid inadvertently breaking his breeding partner.

"..can't you do something about it? I feel so strange right now." Chance whines.

Mafioso lets out a deep, guttural groan, the sound reverberating in his chest and echoing his inner turmoil. The very mention of the word sends a shiver down his spine, twisting his stomach into knots and evoking a sense of expectation that he can't shake.

"Alright," with a swift, fluid motion, the roles were suddenly reversed—the human-dominated over the alien, who lay panting beneath them.

The alien's skin glistened under the dim light, a mix of anxiety and wonder reflecting in its eyes as he caught his breath, while the human's heart raced with an onslaught of excitement and adrenaline. His two tapered cocks, eagerly erect and leaking some foreign liquid, brush against the tunt ass muscles of the man stationed on top, making the alien squirm and groan as his fingers hook onto Mafioso's biceps. 

"I feel... so weird and hot," Chance says, every fiber of his being screaming up from the depths to mate, to dominate, and make him his.

Since he really seems like he might die if not given the proper attention, Mafioso opts to give it a valiant effort. Figuring what's the worst that could happen, he repositions himself, two thighs spread a great distance apart as he perches atop the alien's rock-hard erections. He looks back, contemplating whether both could even fit without tearing him in two. So, he reaches down, scooping one of the leaf-like cocks in his delicate grasp and guiding it to his entrance. 

"Just gonna ease it in nice and slow, try not to move," Mafioso prophecies.

At first, it's a relatively smooth process. There's little to worry about, as the dilated tip slides effortlessly inside without any trouble. Then, when it comes to the base, things get tricky. The shaft broadens, becoming girthy and widening, making his hole stretch to meet an impossibly large standard.

It's not going to fit...

Of course, it's not. There's no way in hell the massive thing would fit.

"Hold on a sec—" Mafioso decrees, his voice a mixture of surprise and disbelief as he turns to face the heated pup impatiently awaiting orders. He hadn't honestly expected the feisty creature to respond to his commands. Just as he was about to dismiss the playful interruption, he gasped as two slimy, almost sticky hands suddenly grope his bare ass, sending a jolt through him. The sensation was unexpected and unsettling, making him acutely aware of the curious nature of this alien species.

Chance holds him steady, parting the way for the head of his first cock to disappear inside the hole. 

"Wait—!" Mafioso tries once again to bring him back to reason as he's sentenced to be impaled by this massive, unsightly organ. He clenches his teeth as the cock forces him to split in two.

"Haa...ah, I can't wait anymore," Chance cries out, his eyes a glossy combination of fresh tears and brimming desire. Mafioso slumps against the vibrant, glowing chest, his body succumbing to fatigue as he struggles to keep himself upright. The pulsating light illuminates his weary features, casting shadows across his face and highlighting the beads of sweat that glisten on his brow. His breaths came in ragged gasps, and the weight of his troubles pressed down on him, making it impossible to remain seated any longer.

It hurts, it feels like he's being eaten alive as a damp, beaming tongue makes contact with exposed flesh. The thrusts are hard and precise, slimy hands grip his hips, and Mafioso grunts as he buries his face in the crook of the alien's neck. 

One penis penetrates his already straining hole, while the other rubs against his own weeping cock, turning a real pain in the ass into a rather blissful sensation.

"This is driving me crazy..." Chance breathes between thrusts, unable to avert his gaze from the main goal: to impregnate him. "This feels so insanely good,"

The ass muscles clenching around him make for a rather discomfiting situation; at this rate, his dick was going to be squeezed off. The space is impossibly tight, not even halfway inside, and already he can't force any more of himself inside. But, as it stands right now, that's the very last thing on his mind. So utterly caught up in the need to impregnate, the need to breed is so strong that everything else seems irrelevant.

Mafioso entered the situation, bracing himself for the worst, imagining it would feel like being impaled by a spear. To his surprise, though, the reality was far less grim. Sure, there was a lingering pain in his ass, a constant reminder of the discomfort he was experiencing, but aside from that, it wasn't as bad as he had stressed, finding some relief in this anguish.

Mafioso meets the ruthless pelvis thrusts with bounces of his own, assisting in sinking this engorged, green, oozing monster deeper and deeper into his guts.

"Mmph, keep moving like that...and I'll have no choice but to put a baby in you," Chance hisses, his eyes rolling back in his skull as he barely clung to consciousness. He's seeing stars, entire constellations from how good this feels.

"...I want you to get me pregnant," Mafioso says, his voice a bit more desperate than he would have liked.

"I'ma fill you with my eggs..." Chance exhales, his breath hitching as a haze of nebulae fills his vision, leaving only the man in front of him in sharp focus.

Their lips met in an urgent, passionate kiss, fingers trembling as they tangled in each other's skin. The warmth of the moment envelopes them, and their tongues intertwine, moving in a rhythm that felt both wild and intimate, exploring each other's mouths with a blend of hunger and tenderness.

The first wave crashes over Chance, releasing spurts of amniotic fluid that form a transparent sac for the developing embryos. This protective cushion envelops them, providing essential nutrients while safeguarding the fragile growth of their offspring. Mafioso struggles to contain himself, overwhelmed by a wave of bliss that surges within him. The sheer abundance of riches and the vibrant energy shroud him, and he feels the fluids pump into his guts like a never-ending cycle.

Soon his hole is leaking, he doesn't have a womb capable of withstanding all the goodness flooding his intestines. He struggles to catch his breath, each kiss becoming more erratic and fleeting as if they were waves crashing against him in a relentless tide.

All he knows is that it's hot and thick, filling him up so wonderfully that it can't be anything else. He sobs in pleasure as that heat that was only covering his hole now exists inside and everywhere within him.

"You're taking it so well," Chance coos, breathless as the tip of his cock squirms inside, releasing something other than essential fluids, "You're gonna get you all round and full with my eggs.”

The first egg passes his rim, stretching the abused, flaring hole before propelling it further into the tight space. The humans above him moan loudly at the intrusion, his body contorting, trying to adjust to the eggs now seated in his belly.

After the first three eggs were discharged, he wonders how many more would be released as he already felt stuffed and another egg steadily moves down the cock; breaching his hole again and again in an endless cycle till he's become a fragment of the man he used to be. Orgasm topples over him as the fourth egg nudges against his prostate, causing him to clench even harder around the leaking cock cramming him full. It wouldn’t remain that way for long, though. With each egg that plopped inside his guts, more and more space was taken up, forcing his body to accommodate. They attached to his intestines and stuck there, though the more that were pumped into him, the more swollen his tummy became.

"So full..." Mafioso murmurs, he looks an absolute mess, with tears staining his face as each egg fills him more than the last, panting and whimpering once they're all safely inside.

Six eggs, six eggs now inside the human's writhing body, where they will be warm and protected and incubated for the next few weeks.

"You did so well." Chance praises, his fingers possessively drawing circles against the swollen belly. Mafioso huffs, the gradual tightening and stretching, starting with a mild, bloating-like sensation that every so slightly became more and more intense with each passing second.

He can’t take it anymore, it's too much; his vision blurs, the edges of reality fading into a hazy mist.

The alien's voice—desperate and distraught—calls out to him, pleading for him to awaken. The echo of his cries hangs in the air, but Mafioso remains unresponsive, drifting further away into a peaceful slumber. In that tranquil escape, the chaos of his surroundings melts away, leaving only the comforting embrace of oblivion as he ascends into a deeper, more serene state of rest.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 10 of FREAKSAKEN: (mostly) doublefedora oneshots