Worlds of BBW Erotic Romance - Box Set (14 page)

Now it was her turn to laugh. “But you went to all that trouble to get a copy of
King Kong?
That movie’s public domain. I know the Enpathians took down the internet, but there have to be a million copies on DVD out there.”

“What’s a DVD?” he asked earnestly.  

“Just where are you from, anyway?” she asked. “Are you
sure
you’re not with them?” she waved her arm skywards, towards the sky over the city center, where a silver-black object a half-mile long hovered ominously. From this angle, it looked something like a giant, half-deflated football.

How she
hated
that thing.

Five months ago, the Enpathians come to Earth in a hundred craft like that, smiling and bringing a message of peace: the beautiful, human-like aliens with their porcelain-white skin and silver-blonde-hair, the males and females equally thin and young pretty-looking. They promised a new future, a friendship that would bring new hope to mankind.

Many had believed them. Others had not, and the governments of Earth had scrambled their fighters and armed their missiles as a precaution… 

Whereupon, the Enpathians had flung an asteroid from the field between Jupiter and Mars towards Earth. Then, when it reached lunar orbit, they’d blasted it to subatomic dust with their weapons. They referred to this act as “educational.” It was enough for the governments to withdraw their weapons…

But that wasn’t the most insidious thing. They were telepathic, it was said, and they could read your mind. As time passed, their presence on Earth had done…
something
… to the majority of humans. They weren’t mindless zombies, not exactly. It was as if they could still think, but most of the time… They didn’t want to. The Enpathians kept smiling, and took care of everyone as if they were naïve children.

But something worse was coming. Heather could feel it. It had been too quiet, as if the invaders were waiting for something, some order or signal to commence the next phase. And whatever that was, it wouldn’t be good for humanity.

“No,” the tall stranger said. “I’m definitely not with them. As a matter of truth, if they knew I was here, I’d probably be in quite some trouble. Very good, then, that I am disguised as human.”

At that moment, as if on cue, his wavy brown hair darkened, turning green –as if someone was fiddling with the hue controls on a TV—before settling into a deep and even shade of cobalt blue. Likewise, his big brown eyes became, in a blink, a lambent shade of violet.

“Umm,” she said, “Did you just do that on purpose?”

“Do that?” he asked.

“Your hair,” she explained. “It’s blue. And your eyes turned violet. A lovely shade, by the way, did you…?”

“Ahh!” he moaned, banging his fist against his head. “The spectral tuning has worn off. The pigments have reverted to my natural shades.” He looked to her, squinting, “Unless there are humans with blue hair? Maybe then I am safe, yes?”

“Not naturally blue, no,” she told him.

He shook his head.  “No matter. A soon as I get back to my shi—“

He stopped suddenly, and she followed his gaze towards the other end of the block, where a small silver-black sphere about the size of a volleyball was hovering ten feet above the street. It zoomed forward soundlessly until it was directly above them. It sat there, spinning in place for just a second, before shooting off suddenly over the rooftops.

“Maybe just a routine scanning,” he said. “Still, I should likely be going?”

Yes, she thought. And good riddance to you.

So why was there a pang of disappointment twisting her stomach?

And then his big eyes—which had been brown, and were now violet—turned to her. They no longer smoldered with a sultry, bedroom stare. Instead, he had the pleading look of a lonely puppy dog. Irresistible in its own way…

“You could put your splendid bottom here,” he said, tapping the motorcycle seat behind him, where there was just enough room for another person to squeeze in.

If my ‘splendid bottom’ would even fit on there, she thought. Jesus… Why am I even contemplating this?

“I mean,” he explained. “Just to give you a bit of a ride. If you like.”

He turned around to look behind him, and his violet eyes suddenly went wide.

“You will want to choose soon, though. I think they are about to shoot in a moment, yes?”

She heard the sound of running feet, looked down the street to where a squad of Enpathian troops in some sort of ceramic-looking white combat armor were charging forward. The slim aliens carried black, wedge-shaped weapons that looked to be some sort of rifle.  She’d never seen the aliens this heavily armed before—was her gentleman friend
that
dangerous?

“Dammit,” she swore, and slid hastily on to the motorcycle behind her shirtless blue-haired friend. As they started to move, she leaned forward against his huge, muscular form and tried to find some support. She could barely fit her arms around his waist, and there wasn’t much to squeeze, just hard, unyielding muscle.

She tried to remember if there was anything special one was supposed to do while riding on the back of a motorcycle. She’d had very limited prior experience with such. Namely, there’d been one rather older, bearded gentlemen she’d met on a free dating site who’d been a huge Harley enthusiast. He’s made some joking comment about “the bitch goes on the back,” and had basically told her to hold on to him for dear life. The riding had been kind of fun, she hadn’t minded that much… She hadn’t been that enamored of the man himself, but she had been willing to grant him a second date… Until he’d asked her sheepishly if she’d ever want to sit in his lap and call him “daddy?”

Ironic, considering what her current “date” had done to her earlier…

She was jolted out of her reverie by a sensation of rising. She looked down to see the concrete receding below her feet, until they were above the roofs of the parked cars, then higher than the single-storey buildings.

Her blue-haired friend was flicking some kind of control on the handlebars. Except… some of the places he was flicking were just empty air, like he was doing some precise pantomime. He twisted some invisible knob, and the flying cycle cantered violently to the side. She felt her weight shifting, had to clamps her legs onto the seat to hang on…

“This disguise has no more function,” she heard him say. “I am a visually-oriented fellow, and I need that feedback, yes?” He found some other switch lower on the steering column and activated it.

The air around them shimmered, and suddenly... the “bike” was no longer a Kawasaki motorcycle. The area where they sat maintained the same rough shape, and the controls up front still resembled handlebars, but the whole of it looked like some chrome art deco sculpture, like a silvery swan in flight… Except the wings of the swan were made up of translucent, brilliantly-glowing filaments in a rainbow of colors which didn’t flap of flutter, but still seemed to provide the lofting power for the craft. 

Like the Enpathian ships, there was no sound of engines, everything was quiet save for the air that whooshed by them…

“A Mekron scout bike is a beautiful thing,” her friend told her. “My people made things so pretty, yes?”

She looked back. Several of the Enpathian troops had dropped to their knees, taking aim with their rifle things.

The corner of a rooftop of a nearby building exploded. Heather could feel the heat and pressure of the blast as bricks and masonry and scorched bits of wiring cascaded down towards the street below.

“Just hang on,” he told her. “Do not worry. Enpathians are poor at marksmanship. They prefer to use their mind tricks.”

Just then, another bolt of energy shot past them, nearly invisible, but boiling the air in its wake.

“All they need to do is get lucky ONCE, though, right?” she cried. 

He took the bike into a steeper climb, pointing the nose of it up.

“Watch it!,” she warned him. “My ‘splendid bottom’ isn’t glued to the seat here.”

She clung on for dear life, digging her fingers into the lines between his tight abs.

Another seething energy beam cut the air a yard above her head.

“You said you’re going to your ship?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “Not very distant, fortunately.”

“It’s a Mekron ship, too, I guess?” she asked. “That’s where you’re from, Mekron?”

“Alas,” he said, “I am the last of my people, my planet utterly destroyed by the Enpathians. I would spare your Earth the fate of my world, but …”

Why did he suddenly sound so very, very grim?

“But?” she asked.

“No guarantees, prettiness,” he said flatly.

He banked the bike sharply left just as another energy bolt whizzed to their right. 

“You might tell me your name,” she said. “Considering there’s a good chance we could die together at any moment. We humans find names useful, you know, so I wond—“

“Teague,” he said. “Lord Gearon Teague, last of the House of Teague, last of the Mekrons. But beautiful one… please call me Gearon.”

Gearon… hmmm…
She liked that name. Sounded almost French, or Italian, some “Romantic” language. A masculine name, yet with a softness to it.

Heather!, she scolded herself.
Here you are, about to get blasted out of the sky by aliens… And you’re really getting smitten with this guy, aren’t you? She felt like some young hormone-gushing teen again, giddy to be close to him and not even really focusing on the danger…

But she really had to introduce herself, didn’t she?

“I’m Heath--”she began-- and ducked as two more energy bolts whizzed above their heads.

“Let me try again,” she said. “Gearon, my name is Heather. Heather Holzengruber… of the… umm… House of Holzengruber, I guess.”

“A musical and melodious name, yes?” he said.

“I don’t know. Heather’s not bad, if a bit common, but Holzengruber… You wouldn’t believe the crap I took for that back in school. Being heavy plus having a funny name is just bad news for a young girl.”

Suddenly, she saw a streak of motion to her left. She looked over, and there was an Enpathian hanging there, zooming along in a flying rig. She’s seen these before… The humans had nicknamed them “mermaids.”

The Enpathian wore the flying device strapped to her back, something like an over-long silver-black backpack, the body of it tapering down past her legs, where it then flared out again like a fish-tail; hence, the “mermaid.” The slim Enpathian pilot hung underneath, and on the front of the device were mounted two rectangular guns with glinting barrels.

Now, another “mermaid” appeared to their left, and one on their right… All silent, propelled by invisible energy.

The “mermaids” slowed, dropped back suddenly… and began firing.

Several blasts hit the iridescent wings of the scout bike. The filaments of the wings shimmered and dimmed, and her stomach was in her throat and she felt them dropping.

Gearon fiddled with the controls and evened out their flight… Though they now seemed to be slowing down.

One of the Enpathian “mermaids” was close to Heather now, no more than fifty feet to her right. This one was a male, she guessed—they were all so androgynous—his white face and pale eyes emotionless behind the clear plate of his helmet.

He reached out one hand towards her, palm flat and extended, and she heard his voice in her head:

SO HEAVY.

The echoing, commanding tone penetrated into her brain, becoming her own voice, her own thought…

Yes, Heather. So heavy. So hard to hang on. My arms hurt so much.

But if I let go … I’d float, I’d glide, so beautiful…

She relaxed her grip on Gearon’s waist, just for a second…

“HEATHER!” she heard
his
voice—Gearon’s voice—shouting out through the sleepy haze. “Hold on, prettiness, HOLD TIGHTLY NOW!”

But, at that moment, another enemy blast hit one of the wings. It shimmered and fizzled for a moment, the bike jerked violently—

--and Heather was flying backwards into the open air.

Her arms flailed, hands clasping, trying to grab anything… And finding nothing.

One leg kicked the back of the bike and only served to send her hurling further into space…

While she watched the beautiful bike with its flickering iridescent wings and her alien Adonis of a pilot speed directly away from her.

Everything seemed to be flowing in slow motion…

At least, she’d be able to savor the last sight of the hunky Space Lord…
Gearon
… as he flew away.

But no… something was happening. It had to be the deluded imagination of a mind about to die, but…

She thought she saw the scout bike turning, the iridescent wings narrowing, drawing tighter to the body of the bike as it cut a sharp curve. The flying Enpathians with their “mermaid” rigs were headed right towards Gearon now, blasting with their front-mounted cannons.

One of the seething bolts hit the underside of the bike. There was a small explosion; crackling blue and yellow energy danced along the bottom of it. But the bike completed the turn, having swept around a full one hundred eighty degrees. Gearon now had the bike pointed straight
towards
the Enpathian attackers.