My Alien Masters

[JeffXeno]

This is my first attempt at writing gay erotic fiction. In the real world, I am considered by most professional colleagues to be quite good at writing business and technical documents. I guess with this effort we’ll figure out together if I can translate those professional writing skills into a more artistic form.

Now that the first chapter is written, do you know what you never need to write in a business environment? Dialog between characters. I foresee this story being about 5 to 6 chapters long, unless I come up with some additional ideas to play with as I write the upcoming chapters.

All comments and constructive criticism are welcomed.

Enjoy,
Jeff Xeno


Chapter 1 - First Contact

Where to begin, where to begin? I suppose the correct starting point is the day I met Matt, as everything before that day is now largely meaningless. My name is Craig, and I met Matt on a beautiful April afternoon in the year 2127; I was 31 years old then, but don’t recall the specific date, and I don’t see that it really matters anymore. I can still remember when years, months, and days were important information, but now, well I’ll get to that later.

So I was just finishing my workout at the gym, and was feeling quite satisfied. I’d really pushed myself hard that day; it was arms and chest day, and I can remember how incredibly pumped I felt. At the time, I was 6’ 11” tall (211 cm) and weighed 275# (125 kg). My friends always told me I was very handsome, but I think most guys were totally fascinated by my size, and I think that’s why everyone said I was handsome. Don’t get me wrong, I thought I looked quite good, but I wasn’t going to be getting any modeling jobs.

As big as I was back then, my fascination was always muscular guys. I’m talking about freaking huge muscle; pro bodybuilder muscle. The more muscular the better, and there was no such thing as too big. Yes, I was big man, but being 6’ 11”, 275#, and having the metabolism of chipmunk on crack cocaine, I was the epitome of an ectomorph. I just never could eat enough to add the muscle size I so deeply desired. As obsessed as I was with freaky big muscle, it seemed was doomed to be a reasonably good looking giant, with a nicely muscled, and well toned body; I had made my peace with the idea that I would never reach the pro bodybuilder sizes.

The bodybuilders I thought had the best looking muscle were the short guys with short bones and large, full muscle bellies. From my point of view, it was almost a complete sexual and physiological paradox; the best looking muscle was on guys between 5’ 4” and 5” 10” (160 to 182 cm), but there I was, the jolly gay giant at 6’ 11”. What I wanted most of all was a man closer to my height, but with the with all that thick, hard, warm, magnificent muscle of the shorter guys. That’s not quite right I suppose; that was the number 2 thing I most wanted. The thing I wanted most of all was to have all that wonderfully thick, hard muscle myself, and a boyfriend as close to my size as I could get, with a muscle fetish as severe as my own.

I remember doing quick calculations back then; one of the best looking pro bodybuilders was 5’ 7” and 285# in the off season, so for me to be that thick, I’d have to be 380# or maybe more. Those numbers, that size I dreamed of back then, it all seems so quaint now. Lucky for me, quite a few pro muscle men were as fascinated by my height as I was by their muscle; I’d had more than my fair share of hook ups with some mighty impressive bodies. I really had no good reason to complain, or feel sorry for myself.

So back to the gym on that beautiful April afternoon. Just as I had finished my workout, loving the feel of my upper body pump, and ready to head to the locker room to shower and change, he walks into the gym. I can still remember that moment I first saw him like it was yesterday. He was so damn enormous; he was like a walking muscle morph image fresh from the mind of a deranged, but artistically skilled muscle addict. He was actually better than that because he was both real, and to this day, still the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. Of course he isn’t even human, but I didn’t know that then, and I’m getting ahead of myself.

As I was saying, he was perfect in every way; he was so handsome it was almost painful, and he was so muscular it was wonder he could move on his own. He was about 6’ 2” and he must have weighed well over 320 pounds with less than 15% body fat. He was wearing a sleeveless, red, skin tight, compression t-shirt, and matching compression shorts that stopped just above the teardrops of his quads; even from across the room, I could clearly make out through the fabric that his large nipples on his oversize pecs were pointing towards the floor, and I could also make out his insanely well defined cobblestone 8-pack abs. I could also see many of the muscle separations of his quads and hams through the skin tight fabric, along with his very ample package.

I’m not sure how long I stood there, mouth agape, before I realized that I was motionless, and staring. By that point, he was staring right back at me, but then how could he miss the giant in the room checking out his impossible body with no discretion whatsoever. I remember feeling my face flush, and the strain in my jock as my 9 inch cock was rapidly expanding to full attention. Surely my reaction would be no surprise to this man; with his body it must be common for him to catch people staring. Regardless, I spun on my heels, and held my hands and towel in front of me as I double-timed it to the locker room. I needed a cold shower, and I needed it right then; I felt like I was a horny teenager again.

Lucky for me the locker room was deserted when I got there, so I quickly stripped and got into the shower with the water on cold. I let the chilly water run down my front side, letting it cover my chest, stomach, and cock first; I had to bend over quite a bit to get my head under the spray as the shower head was under my chin, but that’s the case in almost every shower, except mine at home. The cold water and the activity of washing myself did nothing to deflate rock hard cock; I could not get the image of that living, breathing example of male muscle perfection out of my mind. I didn’t hear anyone else in the area, so I decided to relieve myself right there in the shower, even though I was cramped in a stall that was really too small for comfort. With just a few strokes I came like I seldom had before, which considering I’d just seem my ultimate muscle fantasy, really shouldn’t have surprised me.

When I finished, I stepped out of the stall, dried myself, and return to locker area to get dressed. As I was dressing, I decided I was going to wear my video glasses on the way outside so I could record video of the handsome muscle god as I walked through the weight room. I also put my jock back on under my street clothes to help keep my cock under control during the trip home. Once dressed with my video glasses on and recording, I closed my eyes, I took a few deep breaths, and tried to mentally calm myself. When I felt I fully composed, I grabbed my bag from the bench, turned around to exit the locker room, and immediately ran into a solid invisible something.

Since he was a head shorter than me, it took me a split second to realize that I had just run into my ultimate desire, the impossible muscle god. Big as I was, running into him was like running into a marble statue; he didn’t even budge as we collided. I stepped back, and I felt my face flush again as I realized what had just happened. My mind raced as I struggled to put some coherent words together.

“Excuse me” I blurted out, as I looked down at his gorgeous face, and he looked up into mine. He stared at me almost expressionlessly with his bright blue eyes, and then cocked his head to the left, a bit like a confused puppy I thought. It was adorable, but somewhat unsettling too. I could not help but wonder what thoughts were going through his mind. Was he one of those guys who was attracted to my exceptional height as I was to his exceptional muscle? If there really was a merciful god, he would make it so this time, with this man.

“I was moving too quick, and I never heard you come up behind me. Please pardon me” I said, while he continued to stare at me.

Then without saying a word, he began to check me out, up and down with almost palpable intent. I just stood there silent and motionless; I didn’t want to upset or offend him, but he was acting so unusual. So I took the opportunity check out his impossibly muscular body at this intimate distance. His upper arms had to be 25 inches or more, his neck was thicker than his head, traps seemed to start just below his earlobes, and tie into bowling ball delts on either side. Like the rest of him, his chest was wider and thicker than any I’d ever seen except for works of erotic art; his pecs looked to be hanging out over his abs by about six inches, inhumanly large and heavy with 3 or 4 inches of cleavage between them. I so wanted to reach out and feel those impossibly large, incredibly full chesticles, but caution seemed to be in order. I was certain there had never before been a flesh and blood man with this level of muscularity; before today, his body existed only in the imagination of those people like me, obsessed with male muscle. He was truly a living muscle god worthy of worship and adoration; an unlikely, yet obviously real muscle fantasy come to life.

It was then that he grabbed my right arm with his left hand, and at the moment of contact, it felt like I was struck by lightening. It seemed as if I had some type of full body convulsion, while every cell in my body vibrated in different directions at some incredible rate. I was briefly blinded by total darkness, then blinded by light, and then we were both somewhere else.

We were in a room, but not like any room I’d ever seen before. It was a pleasant enough looking place, but there was nothing familiar about it. There was a warm light illuminating everything, but I couldn’t tell from where it originated. There were things in the room that I assumed were furniture, but again like nothing I’d ever seen. The walls were not flat, but were made of many interlocking geometric panels of unrecognizable materials; on the wall furthest from us, three of the panels appeared to be pictures of distant stars.

The impossible muscle god lifted his left arm to look at a small tablet computer strapped to his forearm; he used his right hand to tap the computer screen, and it made some strange noises. He then made some bizarre noises himself that are as impossible for me to describe as he was impossibly muscular. A few moments later, the stars in the three pictures began to move as if they were sliding off the left side, and then the Moon came into view in first picture on the right. They were windows, and we were in space! Holy crap, we were in space. I was in space on a ship that wasn’t built by humans.

The muscle god space man then forcefully grabbed my left arm, and applied a tiny metallic looking disk to the back of my hand. There was a small stinging sensation as he pressed it into my skin, and then he said, “Welcome aboard Craig; do not be alarmed. You will not be harmed, but we have much to discuss before we leave this star system. We will make you an offer that I think you will greatly enjoy, but should you not like our terms, we will return you to your planet, and select another candidate.”

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[Strmchaserboi]

I want more please.

[Lucas88]

So far, so very good! Looking forward to more.

[JeffXeno]

Originally Posted by Lucas88

So far, so very good! Looking forward to more.

I actually had a page of "Chapter 2 - The Offer" written before I posted chapter 1 last night. The thing is that there's a lot of dialog between Craig and his "host," and I'm finding that challenging.

Thanks for the input.

Jeff

[imfit]

This is story is off to a good start. Write what is natural for you, dialog will eventually get easier.

[JeffXeno]

OK guys, I've partially been busy with other things, but I'm also having trouble making story decisions. By story decisions I mean that I know the final destination of the story; I know the ending, but cannot decide the best way to get there. I've got lots of ideas I'd like to include, but I can't decide which is the best. I keep telling myself that any discarded idea, those not chosen for this story, can be used in future stories, so they aren't gone, but only shelved. Knowing this, I'm still having trouble deciding the best, hopefully entertaining to the largest audience, path to get there.

So my question is, do any of you more prolific and successful writers have some process that you have worked out over time which helps you make story decisions? Do you write an outline and stick to it, or do you just let it flow from your mind to the keyboard and hope for the best? Do you have a story fleshing process that works reasonably well, which you are willing to share with the rest of us? Anything you share I would imagine would be useful to other budding story writers as well.

Additionally but related, my story is science fiction, so I'd like to keep it reasonably logically consistent from beginning to end. As such, little decisions in chapter two might make big differences in chapter six. Maybe it makes sense to write the whole thing in draft form, and then start editing each chapter to add titillating detail, and correct grammar and spelling, and then release chapters after editing. But then that makes writing the first draft seem so daunting, where writing a chapter at a time seems more attainable... easier to accomplish.

I don't know... maybe I'm just over thinking the entire process. Being that all my previous writing has been to take complex technical facts and turn them into usable information so that decisions could be made, it was a matter of taking things I knew to be true, and creating a narrative around the information. In fiction, I need to create the facts and the narrative, and the facts impact the narrative. Shit fire and save matches! Tech / Business writing is just so much easier for me.

Jeff

[skumbum]

You weren't asking me, but: planning in advance is harder; takes more work up front, for sure. But it lets you do foreshadowing, or insert details that subtly build up in the reader before a revelation down the road. And it takes some creative pressure off later. BUT you aren't necessarily locked in, you can change your mind as you go if you like, and adjust your outline.

It sounds like you are an organized thinker, so take advantage of that. As far as a daunting first draft goes: you can make it arbitrarily thin. Remember the outline is just a tool for you. So it doesn't necessarily have to be a huge deal.

That being said, lots of (I'd bet maybe most) successful book / tv series obviously aren't planned out to the end, and the can still be awesome.

[skumbum]

P.S. Awesome chapter, hope to read more soon.