You take this perfect opportunity to run away; Aaisla's too distracted to stop you with her abnormal strength. As tempting as it is to let her do her thing, you really, really just want to know what the hell is going on; commanding a starship, getting macked on by an (admittedly very beautiful) machine, being RESURRECTED?! All of those require a bit more elaboration than like, one sentence each--which she doesn't seem to be very keen on giving you. In fact, the only thing she seems interested in is jumping your bones at the drop of a hat.
And who knows? Maybe she could've kidnapped you and pretended that you're her commander! After all, you're pretty damn sure you're from the 21st century. Not only that, her claim is pretty strange; you haven't seen anyone else so far on this ship, if there is anyone other than her, she hasn't even tried to introduce you to them. Then again, you've only just started leaving this room...maybe you'll see some people in the hallway?
And they'll see you, running like a demon unleashed, clad in nothing but your colored undies. They'd also get an unwanted look at your erection as it bobs in your pants. Maybe you should've grabbed your clothes while you could...
...Seriously, though, what kind of spaceship has a horny sexbot for an assistant?!
As you dash out of the room and into a series of diverging hallways, you quickly come to understand that this ship is way larger than you first thought. The station was colored in hues of black and white, with some doors and dead-end rooms you zip past having the same blue and red highlights as your underwear. You think of entering some of them, but none of them look particularly important (or well-hidden).
Coming to a stop at a double flight of stairs with bright white LEDs on the edges and rails, you choose to go to the lower floor. It's more of the same; you continue to run around aimlessly.
A creeping feeling that something is very wrong churns in your stomach. You hadn't seen anyone in that mad dash, not even through the doors of what looked like a cafeteria. Instead, it was that same pure white and dull grey dichotomy the entire vessel had. Why do the people of the future have to be so boring?
Eventually, after becoming too tired to keep up your full-on sprint, you slow down to a crawl, focusing more on stealth and paying more attention to the signs. Surprisingly, they're in English. Convenient! Of course, most of them are just generic room signs, but you manage to stumble upon something interesting fairly quickly at the fork of the wing:
"Interstellar Chatrooms -->"
Oh, interstellar. So you're not TOO far into the future. It's pretty cool (and also pretty terrifying) to know aliens are just around the corner! Since you don't really have a set way to go, you travel the path more interesting, making sure not to let your feet make too much noise on the smooth, yet perfectly frictive ground.
Wait. Speaking of slippery...what's that slime on the floor? And on the walls? Curiosity overwhelms your sense of caution, leading you to dig two of your fingers into a little pool of the stuff and gingerly bring it up to your face--you know, sorta like that one thing cops and detectives do in crime shows. It's viscous, that much you could tell the instant it touched your fingers. It's also cool, which stands out from the goldilocks climate of the entire starship. It stretches slightly, breaking into a couple large, thick strands when you pull apart your pointer and middle fingers and get a better look at the material on its own. It's shiny and see-through with a blackish tint to it.
You move your fingers closer to your nostrils and take a whiff. Instead of being hit with a disgusting, outlandish smell, your nose is greeted by a nice, if pungent, scent of sweets. You want to sniff it some more, but you've already taken an unneeded risk by practically stuffing it up your nose. That, and the skin of your fingers is starting to get strangely tingly...it reminds you of the feeling lidocaine has when you put it on cuts.
Realizing that you don't really have anything to brush it off onto, you flick around your hand until most of it's flung away. That tingling's still there, though. And, disconcertingly, you can feel a hint of the smell sticking in your nasal passage.
*click click click*
Oh shit. Did Aaisla already catch up to me?
You decide you don't want to stick around and find out. As quietly as you can, you tiptoe into one of the rooms further down the goo-covered hallway, careful not to make too much noise, or to leave footprints in the incomplete film lining the ground. Thankfully, the people of the future were mindful enough to make silent slide doors.
The second you're inside, the door locks automatically, and a red light appears on a pad to the side of it. It seems to have difficulty doing so, however, and when it finally pushes into place, you hear a sticky-sounding *splutch*. Luckily, if you needed to get out for whatever reason, there's also a verticle handle carved into the slick design of the door's edge.
Actually, about that *splutch*ing sound...as you turn around to look at the room, one of your feet lands in a puddle of the cool, sticky goo from before. Now that you're looking at the insides of this slightly cramped space, your eyes widen in surprise. There's way more slime in here than outside! It's coating the floor almost entirely, and the sickly sweet stench from before is about as strong as when you were smelling it up close--
*clang cling clang*
What the hell was that? Is it coming from the vent?!
*clangclangCLANG*
You suddenly decide that getting caught by Aaisla would be less bad than sticking around here. Reaching for the handle, you panic when it doesn't immediately open like before. Oh no, that splat was the door jamming! In a frenzy, you frantically start heaving your arms to the side in an effort to pull the thing open, but the viscosity of the slime was making it nearly impossible! Even so, you manage to get it to budge after an inordinate amount of effort. It's a few inches open when a loud, metallic *THUNK* makes you jump in place.
Slowly, you turn your head. What greets you makes you doubletake: A long, winding, perfectly uniform neck ends, not in a head, but in what is seemingly just a pair of giant, extremely dark navy blue lips. Below that are a set of enormous, pitch-black funbags that bounce gently against the wall below the vent, as if they just popped out of a tight container, and two smooth, three-fingered hands, which are currently pushing this bizarre creature out of its hiding place. Every square inch of oily skin you can see is slicked in a sheen of goo.
It apparently notices you looking it over, because its mouth 'points' at you turns up in a smirk. You freeze up. Slowly, deliberately, a long, winding, bright blue tongue peeps out between its--her--lips, waving at you as if to say 'hello' (and maybe 'I'm going to suck you dry' as well).
You've wasted enough time gawking at the alien that's made its home here, and you're not about to waste even more! You immediately turn your attention back to opening the door. It pulls back almost a foot, but it seems you're paying the price for your hesitation, because you hear the massive-lipped thing plop down on the ground, her slimy body slapping wetly against the floor. Some flecks of her slime spatter onto the back of your head as it bursts through. It sends a chill down your spine.
You're trying, you really are, but the door is budging at a snail's pace! The strangely curvaceous alien giggles at you in a low, husky, gutteral, yet distinctly feminine voice. In a miracle of events, you widen the gap just enough to walk through--but it's too late. A hot, steady, humid breath bathes your entire backside. Goosebumps rise up on your skin. Those lips of hers are getting closer and closer...you can hear her puckering and smacking them, as if to taunt you. But the door, it's almost wide enough for you to--
Two slimy hands brush against your stomach with a warm, feathery touch. The massive, slick, and very squishy jugs resting on your back, much less so. You freeze up as a particularly loud *pop* rings out right behind your head. The beast's tongue reaches out and licks, slowly and sordidly, up your back, ending just as it reaches your hair. It's obscenely wet, and the goo it leaves on your skin prickles enticingly. Your knees go weak.
A salacious moan forces its way out of your mouth as those big, fat kissers push into the back of your right collarbone, completely swallowing up both it and that whole side of your neck. They're so hot and plush and soothing on your flesh that you almost can't stop yourself from leaning into it too. Then, after rubbing its lips from side to side and eking another squeak from your mouth, it sucks. If the feeling on your recently-licked skin was pleasant, then this feels like downright ecstasy; this monster's winding snake of a tongue brushes and rubs and swirls around every square inch of skin it can reach, slathering your neck and shoulders in saliva.
It ends way too soon for your liking. Without warning another loud *pop* fills your ears, and another potent pang of pleasure rushes through you as your unwanted alien admirer pulls her mouth away. A shot of precum spurts out of your tip, staining the cup of your underwear. The thing seems to notice, because right as it happens a slime-sheened, three-fingered hand lays flat against your belly and starts sliding down past the line of your waistband. Comparative cool soothes your jewels as it gently cups them in its palm.
You sigh fondly as the amorous beast fondles your jewels. The pressure on your back from its magnificent rack is getting heavier. A calm washes over your mind. You almost don't want to leave...
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