The Telemachus Story Archive

By Hooder



It started at 1:04am. Paul knew it was 1:04 because he had one of those clocks that project the time in big red numbers onto the ceiling. Normally he wouldn't have been awake at that time of night - it was unusual for him not to sleep right through - but the unseasonably warm spring weather had caught him by surprise and he was too hot under the thick winter duvet. He'd been tossing and turning for a while, having woken up and been unable to get back to sleep.

Apart from the clock, which he was used to, there was no other light in the bedroom at night, just the moon if it was out, which lit up the dressing table with its silver rays. But now there was something different: slowly, in his semi-conscious state, he became aware that the room was glowing. A soft yellow illumination pervaded the whole place.

Grunting and blinking blearily he raised his head and looked around - and came fully awake quickly. His first thought was that something was on fire, but there was no smell of burning, and it wasn't the right kind of light for fire. This was very strange. He started to get out of bed, but suddenly he felt something pushing him gently but firmly down. He tried to fight it, but the force - whatever it was - was irresistable. Slowly, his muscles straining, he fell back onto the bed, uncomprehending.

He couldn't even move his head, and in the position where he was lying - flat on his back - he felt, rather than saw, the duvet begin to move down, uncovering him, by itself. If he had been afraid before, he was terrified now. "Who - who's there?" In his peripheral vision - he couldn't even move his eyes - he thought he saw shadowy black forms beyond the bed, but he was unable to move to get a proper look. There was no reply to his question. Frozen face up on the bed, his gaze looking straight up, he felt himself begin to move. Slowly, he felt his body levitate a foot or so from the mattress. "What the fuck...?" The question was only in his mind - he couldn't speak any more.

A tingling began at his toes and worked its way gradually up his body. It was probably a good thing he was unable to see, as anyone else there would have observed a curious thing: at a rate of about six inches every second, his body was disappearing. His legs dissolved into nothingness, then his abdomen, chest, arms, shoulders, and - finally, without a sound - his head disappeared. The room was empty now, and abruptly the soft yellow glow was gone.

* * *

Paul experienced no discomfort, and no discontinuity - one moment he was in his bedroom, staring at the ceiling, and the next he was somewhere else. He had no idea where, but the ceiling here was metallic, grey, and patterened with a regular matrix of tiny holes. He felt himself lying on a padded surface - a table of some sort? - and he was still unable to move a muscle. He'd read stories of alien abductions, but had dismissed them all as the ravings of nutters; now he wasn't so sure. If he had been abducted by aliens he wanted to see them! He was intensely interested in science and science fiction, and he knew that this was an experience he'd never have again. His only worry was that they would experiment on him and cause him pain - apart from that his initial terror had been replaced with an intense curiosity.

Aliens! What would they look like? Would they be bug-eyed monsters with tentacles? Green-skinned jellyfish? Creatures of pure light? Or would they be invisible to human eyes? Paul was more excited than he'd ever been before in his life. He tried to move - if only he could raise his head, look around, try to communicate with them... but the force or whatever it was was still paralysing him completely.

No! He could move a toe! Very gradually he regained the use of his feet, then his legs. Soon he would be able to move. Then he would see what was going on!

At that point Paul suddenly realized that he'd been here before. At first slowly, and then in full detail it came back to him: the same thing had happened the previous night! He'd been asleep that time, and had only woken up when the duvet had begun to uncover him and he'd started to levitate off the bed. He'd been brought here, put on the same table, paralysed as now. But then it had been completely black - he'd been unable to see anything at all. He'd felt a helmet or cap of some kind put on his head, had felt strange tinglings in different parts of his body, then a little later the helmet had been removed, and something rubbery placed over his face. This rubbery stuff had molded itself perfectly to his face and he'd panicked, unable to breathe. But it had been taken off after a few seconds. Then he'd been taken back to bed and put to sleep. He'd remembered nothing whatsoever about the event in the morning. What were they going to do to him tonight, he wondered.

Paul almost jumped out of his skin as he felt his ankles gripped, lifted, and fastened into some kind of restraints a couple of feet above the padded surface. His head and eyes were still immovable, so he couldn't look down to see who was touchng him, and he found that incredibly frustrating.

And then he gasped as figures - one each side of him - moved up the table and came into view. They were humanoid, with two arms (he couldn't see their legs), and they appeared to be completely clad in skintight black leather. Their torsos were muscular, their pecs standing firm and as if under a painted-on layer of shiny leather; the nipples showed in meticulous detail. Their arms, the biceps bulging, ended in what looked like long black leather gauntlets - but it was their heads which Paul couldn't take his eyes off.

Imagine a shiny black crash helmet. Now elongate the front, extend it some four or five inches from the nose, and bring it to a rounded point. Where the visor would be, substitute a curved, round-cornered rectangle of shining silver metal mesh. That was what Paul saw looking down at him - and for some reason he found the sight gob-smackingly sexy.

As they moved up the table, Paul saw that they were holding something between them - it looked like a sheet of black rubber - each of the aliens was holding one side. Carefully they positioned Paul's arms, then lowered the sheet over his upper body and arms, wrapping it over the sides of the table. There was a short hiss, and the sheet seemed to contract, as if it were vacuum-wrapping him and squeezing him down to the padded surface. The sheet extended from his neck to his hips, but from there down he was still uncovered, and he'd got a stonking hard-on.

The figures disappeared from his field of view for a while - he was now able to move his eyes and he looked down as far as he could, but the aliens were not in sight. Gradually he recovered the movement of his head, and as soon as he could he raised it to look. He couldn't move it far enough to see very much because of the sheet pinning his neck down, but he saw more than he had before.

He was in a small room whose walls were made of the same perforated grey metal. There was no door that he could see, but the aliens must have left by one somewhere. The illumination was even, and came from hidden sources. Apart from the table he was on, the room was empty.

He strained to look down at his body, the upper half of which was vacuum-packed to the table by the black rubbery sheet. It was so thin and tight that every muscle was visible under it. It was also stretchy, enabling him to breathe but not to move otherwise. His legs were raised and held wide apart, his ankles strapped into grey, padded metal sturrups which were at the top of round bars rising from the sides of the table, about three-quarters of the way along it.

Just then a panel in the grey metal wall opened and the aliens returned. One held a mask of some kind, the other was pushing a trolley - he could just see the top of it - which contained what looked like gas bottles and which had green tubes hanging from it. They positioned the trolley at the side of the table, and held the mask up for the boy to see. Paul recognised what it was: a perfect mold of the lower front quarter of his head! That must have been what they'd been doing last night - taking a mold of his head. This mask was made of the black rubbery material and had a connection for tubes at the front.

Slowly one of the figures brought the mask down and the leather-gauntleted hands fitted it over Paul's face. There were no straps; it seemed to settle in place and stay there on its own. It covered his nose, mouth, and chin, keeping his jaw closed comfortably but firmly.

The other figure did something to the machine on the trolley, then ran a couple of tubes to the mask and attached them. Finally a strap was secured over Paul's forehead to immobilise it. Apart from being able to open and close his knees a little, he couldn't move an inch again.

There was a soft whirring, and the table began to move. His head started to rise as, from its horizontal position, tha table tilted smoothly forward until Paul was almost vertical. The rubbery sheet over his body supported him so that he didn't slide down the shiny padded surface. While this was happening, the aliens stood beyond his head and he was unable to see them.

When the table came to a stop, there was a pause, and then the two aliens walked out and stood in front of him. For the first time Paul could see them fully - from their heads to their feet. He gasped.

Paul was 22 years old, gay, and had had a serious fetish for leather for as long as he could remember. And these two beings were visions straight out of the most pervy depths of his imagination. He'd already seen their helmet-like heads, skintight black leather muscular torsos and arms - but their lower halves he was seeing for the first time, and his cock got even harder. Heavy chrome metal belts ran round their hips, contrasting starkly with the black leather of jeans that - just looking at them - made Paul need to cum very badly indeed. They were as skintight as the covering on the beings' top halves, the shiny black leather following every contour of their muscular legs, and disappearing into chunky, matt, light-grey boots which looked like a cross between bike boots and ski boots. Black plastic quick-release buckles ran down the outer side of each, and the effect was half sci-fi, half pure kink. The boots came up to just below their knees, and Paul's eyes ran slowly up the aliens' flawlessly shiny black thighs to their crotches.

Paul had no idea how far the aliens' anatomy corresponded with humans', but his eyes watered anyway: the bulges at their crotches were unbelievable. The black leather stretched to bursting point in round bulges over what must have been gigantic cocks and bull balls. As the figures moved slightly standing there in front of him, Paul could see that whatever the material was - it certainly looked like leather - couldn't have been ordinary leather: nothing strong enough to contain that amount of tackle could possibly be so thin . The aliens' cocks moved inside the jeans as if they had a life of their own. And then he realized that they were getting erections. Disbelievingly he watched as on each figure the thin, skintight leather stretched to accommodate the hardening cocks beneath. In less than a minute what had been huge, almost spherical mounds between their thighs elongated until the two hard cocks stood straight out from their bodies, encased in form-fitting, stretchy, shiny black leather - the twin mounds of their huge balls below, standing proudly three-dimensional from the tops of their thighs. The tip of each alien's cock-head formed the apex of a sharp black leather cone, the underneath of which - halfway along the length of his cock - curved downwards to become the bulge of his balls. Paul had never in his life seen anything even remotely as sexy as that. He felt an intensely powerful urge to feel it, to lick it, to suck it, and to make the sexy fucker cum in those horny jeans. The thought of feeling that gear against his bare skin, his hand gripping that bulge and causing the spunk to pump out into that stretchy, skintight black leather made him almost faint with lust.

It was obvious to Paul that they had raised the table specifically so that he could look at them. What they did next confirmed this. The figure on the right stood behind the other one, grabbing his arms and securing them behind his back with what looked like a flexicuff, then started to run his gauntleted hands lightly and slowly over his captive's body. He pushed a hand through between the tops of the cuffed alien's thighs, and lightly tickled the base of his cock-bulge. The cuffed alien instantly closed his legs together and started to make noises - the first sounds either of them had made at all - which sounded a little like giggling. His cock grew another two or three inches in length, stretching the shiny black leather even further - and then the figure behind him put his free arm around his waist and in one quick motion pulled off the triangular piece of leather that had been a kind of codpiece. The alien's cock and balls flopped forward, released from their imprisonment, and Paul gulped. He had never in his life seen a cock that big. It was enormous: as thick as his wrist and about a foot long, encased in what looked like shiny black rubber, it waved in the air in front of him like a huge horse cock, the veins sharply defined, and the spear-shaped head glossy black, and moist.

Gently, almost teasingly, the alien behind him took the cock in his leather-gauntleted hand. Slowly, he stroked the full length of it up and down for a while, then applied a single finger and thumb to the cockhead, stroking them rapidly over the very tip. The captive alien's knees buckled, he let out a keening noise, struggling for a moment to get his arms free and to get away from the other one's hand - and then he came. With his hand gripping the huge, shiny black bull balls, the one behind held him up as he milked that huge cock. The spunk shot out of the tip with a force that staggered the boy: it arced in the air and he heard fat wet sploshes as it hit the wall behind him. The cock was like a snake beneath the milking hand, jerking and dancing around in the throes of the alien's orgasm. The fingers kept working on the end of the bloated black cock-head, one each side of the piss-slit, opening and closing rapidly so they rubbed over the very tip - apparently the most sensitive spot on the alien's cock. And the amount of spunk was unbelievable: a barrage of thick white gobs flew through the air as the alien convulsed, helpless in the other's arms.

It went on for much longer than a human orgasm. "Fuck..." thought Paul. He desperately wanted to get to his own cock to wank himself off, but he couldn't reach it - the rubbery sheet was holding him down too securely. That was the most unbelievably horny thing he'd ever seen.

It seemed that aliens recovered more quickly than humans too - seconds after that monumental orgasm had finished, the captive alien stod up under his own power as the other one removed the cuffs from his wrists. He picked up the leather codpiece and replaced it over his genitals. His cock was still hard - although it had shrunk slightly after he'd cum - and he showed no signs of wanting a cup of tea and a cigarette.

The table returned to its horizontal position, and the figures turned their attention to the helpless, and very horny, boy in its restraints.

What had all that been about, wondered Paul. A show to get him horny? If so it had succeeded. In spades. For a start the aliens were perfect wet-dream material in how they looked; and what the one had done to the other one - got him helpless; pushed his hand through between his thighs and tickled his balls; and worked on the very tip of his cock-head until he lost control and came - were things which exactly and precisely turned Paul on most of all. Was that coincidence, or had they known? If so, how...?

Paul smiled suddenly under the mask. The helmet, or cap or whatever it was last night! They'd somehow read his deepest turn-ons from out of his head! Surely they couldn't do that? Could they? If they could make his body levitate off the bed they probably could do anything, he thought. But why...?

He didn't have time to think about it any further - he could smell something funny. There was some kind of gas in his mask. He was frightened, but there was nothing he could do about it - he was restrained helpless and the mask fitted airtight and perfectly. He had no option but to breathe in the gas.

It was a bit like poppers: his head started to swim, and his heartrate increased. He also got even more horny. In the corner of his field of vision he saw one of the figures move towards his crotch, and then he felt a leather hand grip the base of his cock and pull it upright, holding it there while the fingers of the alien's other hand began to work lightly on it, stroking it gently and slowly from base to tip, over and over. Each time the fingers ran over the head Paul's cock gave a jerk. God he was so horny!

For a long time nothing else happened - the fingers continued to trace up the shaft and over the tip slowly and relentlessly - and then there was a different smell in the mask. Another gas of some kind. After a second or two he felt sick, and was afraid he was going to vomit into the mask. He tried to shake his head from side to side but the alien in charge of the gas had seen his reaction and returned to normal air. Paul quickly felt better. His cock had softened very slightly during that small panic, but the continuous gentle work on it by the other alien soon got it back to full erection.

A third gas was introduced - this one smelled a little like chocolate. Worried, Paul waited to see what effects this one had. It was strange: he suddenly became very conscious of his arsehole. As the alien's fingers teased his cock, his sphincter began to contract rhythmically, and he felt as if he desperately wanted something to fill it. Now Paul was not at all into being fucked - in fact fucking was something that had never really turned him on much - but now, more and more, he needed to feel something in there. He just hoped it wouldn't be one of the alien's gigantic cocks. Beneath the sheet holding him down, his body - quite involuntarily - tried to move down the table, towards the alien's crotch. He noticed the shiny black helmeted head of the one working on his cock turn to look at him for a moment, then return to what he was doing. A moment later Paul felt something very smooth and slippery pushing its way gently into his arse. His sphincter seemed to open up to welcome it - almost to suck it in - and the feeling was wonderful. Whatever it was, was articulated, as it moved, snake-like inside him. It found all the right places, and proceeded to massage them to great effect. Had a side effect of the mask not been to gag him quite efficiently, he would at this point have been screaming in pleasure. As it was, he moaned through clenched teeth into the rubber covering his face.

Paul was getting more horny by the minute. Whatever the reason these aliens were doing this to him, they certainly knew their business. The fingers still continued to glide softly up the length of his cock - and then it suddenly struck Paul that one hand was still holding his cock upright. Either it was a machine up his arse, or there was more to these aliens than met the eye.

The device was removed from his arse after a while (too soon! Too soon!) and yet another gas was tried out on him. This one tasted metallically unpleasant - but then he felt is cock growing bigger and harder. Whether this was a physical effect or just in his mind he didn't know, as he couldn't see down there, but it felt like he had the biggest cock in the world. It went on and on. The fingers sliding up it had either slowed down a lot, or did in fact have much further to travel. And it was a lot more sensitive! The electric currents of ecstasy that pierced his brain every time the finger ran over the tip of his cock-head were almost too intensely wonderful to bear. Paul's eyes rolled upwards until the pupils disappeared altogether as he gave himself to the indescribable pleasure.

But it was also indescribable frustration. He needed to cum. God, how he needed to cum. The alien's technique on his cock hadn't changed at all since he'd first started working on it - just those slow, even, gentle strokes from the base to the tip - and Paul needed more! What had started out as beautiful was rapidly turning into a torture of frustration.

So far they hadn't touched his very sensitive balls at all, but now the alien included them in his work. Soft fingers pulled them gently, teased them, tickled them, as the other hand carried on working on his cock. And the other hand still held it upright... But Paul had other things on his mind than trying to work out how many arms these guys had.

If he thought he'd been horny before, he really was horny now. More than anything, having his balls gently played with while he was being wanked off turned him on like fuck. He also loved having his nipples lightly squeezed, but no doubt the aliens were too busy with other things...

... At that moment, a hand began to squeeze his nipples gently. Oh fuck, thought Paul, was it possible to die from pleasure?

The metallic-tasting gas had changed to something else again: this was an unidentifiable smell - sort of musky, slightly popper-ish, but heavier. The single thought that crossed Paul's mind was that the gas must be brown.

He blinked slowly, smiled a little, then exhaled a long, languid breath. The effect this gas was having on him is difficult to describe - he felt totally abandoned, uninhibited, wanton, lecherous, and lascivious. He wanted everything these guys could give him and more. He was pure sex. It was the most curious feeling - and fucking brilliant.

This time, they didn't change the gas, but kept him breathing it. Paul's feet were released from the stirrups and placed down on the table. The alien who had been monitoring the gases left his position and climbed up onto the table. He carefully got into a press-up position over Paul, not touching him anywhere, and stayed there. The other one touched the rubbery sheet, causing it to hiss again, and removed it quickly. Paul was now no longer restrained. He could see his own reflection in the shiny black helmet, and the blank silver mesh over the eyes stared back at him expressionlessly. Slowly, the alien lowered himself onto Paul, his pointed helmet over the boy's right shoulder. The alien's legs were inside Paul's, and gently forced them apart.

Paul let out a long moan of ecstasy as the black leather made contact with his bare skin all over. He raised his arms and ran his fingers over the shiny leather of the alien's back, hugging him to his body. He couldn't see what the other one was doing, but he felt hands on his cock, pulling it back towards the bottom of the table, and something cool, and very slippery being slid over it. One hand held it in position while the fingers of the other began to milk his cock-head very slowly. They slid over the sensitive glans and rubbed over the very tip. At the same time the alien on top of Paul moved his boots to the outside of Paul's ankles and pushed his legs together tightly. He reached out to the machine and did something. Suddenly Paul couldn't breathe at all.

The hand came back and clamped over Paul's eyes, blindfolding him - and he felt a leather gauntlet forcing its way between the tops of his bare thighs to tickle his arsehole. And something was teasing his balls...

With an airless scream, Paul came. Thick, white-hot spunk pumped out of his cock into whatever was covering it, while the alien's fingers worked on his cock-head in the way it was impossible for Paul to resist.

He couldn't breathe; he couldn't see; he was helpless; there was black leather touching his body all over; he could feel the alien's gigantic bulge pressing on top of his cock; his skintight, stretchy leather jeans all the way down his legs; his boots against his bare feet; a hand forced flat between the tops of his thighs; fingers tickling his balls; and the incredibly skillful hand of the second alien milking him. He came and came and came.

* * *

Paul blinked in the sunlight coming through the window and hammered a fist onto the alarm clock. Fuck, he felt knackered. Hadn't slept well at all. Must change the duvet for the lighter one. With a sigh he got out of bed and, yawning, ran the shower. Another day.

* * *

It had been a hell of a day at work, and he was exhausted. He didn't even make himself a hot chocolate - he was too tired. He pulled the thick duvet off the bed and replaced it with the summer one, then collapsed onto the sheet. He was asleep in seconds.

* * *

He opened his eyes. Grey metallic ceiling, perforated with a regular pattern of small holes. What the fuck? He tried to sit up, but couldn't move. Couldn't even move his eyes. Then he remembered - and his cock went from fully soft to fully hard in about five seconds. He knew what would happen: the rubbery sheet, the mask, the gases, the sexy, gorgeous aliens and the incredible pleasure...

As before, he gradually regained control of his body from the toes upward - but where where the aliens? By the time the panel in the wall slid open he was sitting on the padded table, fully recovered, his legs dangling. Only one alien came in. He wondered if it was one of the two from last night or another one completely.

The figure nodded his gleaming black helmeted head slowly once in greeting, then raised a hand, indicating that Paul should stay where he was for the time being. The alien was holding something small in his hand, and made adjustments to it, pressing buttons, before gently placing it on Paul's forehead. It stayed there by itself.

Paul jumped as clicks and whistles sounded inside his head. The alien raised his hand again in reassurance, made more adjustments to the unit, and stood back.

"Hello." Paul blinked in surprise. The single word had formed inside his head - it was a strange thing: half 'sound' and half a visual image of the word itself in black Times Roman on a white background.

"Can you understand me?" Paul 'heard' the soundless question and simultaneously saw the letters of it scan across the white 'page' quickly. He swallowed, then nodded. "Yes, I can understand you."

"Good. This unit is experimental, and may not work as well as it could."

Paul nodded again. The most disorientating thing about this was the visual image of the words whizzing past.

"I should really not be speaking to you."

"I kinda guessed that."

"But it is all right this time. If it doesnt work out we can erase your memories again."

"Oh, please don't do that. I want to remember what you did to me. It was... it was wonderful."

The alien made a strange clicking noise which didn't translate. Paul guessed it was laughter.

"You are an intriguing human. Your mind is open, and full of dark thoughts - interesting thoughts. You are not like the others. There are more dark thoughts in your mind that you know about, I think. Many more. Thoughts I want us to explore."

"Dark thoughts?"

"Thoughts about sex, and restraints, and what you call 'leather', and about control, and about helplessness. Those dark thoughts we find very interesting indeed - especially the ones about 'leather'."

"Why's that?"

The alien leant against the table by Paul's side. "We visit many worlds. It is our job to collect samples of eggs, and sperm from lifeforms on the edge of extinction, and - "

"Extinction? Is the human race going to become extinct?" Paul's mouth hung open.

"Oh yes, sadly. But not for a while. No need to worry. Anyway, we take many differerent creatures and put them on the tables. We do not hurt them. In fact we give them pleasure - as much pleasure as possible. Partly as recompense for their time and trouble, although they remember nothing about it, and partly because it is the best way to get the largest quantity and best quality sperm."

Paul had no difficulty in believing that - he'd cum buckets after what they'd done to him last night.

"We find out what is inside their heads about sex - what is the very best for each individual, and then we make ourselves look like that, and do those things."

Paul frowned. "You mean you dress up in different gear for different people?"

"Oh it is more than that. We have the ability to change the way we look completely."

Paul jumped as a pink octopus, a yellow duck with teeth, and what appeared to be a large slug materialised in quick succession at his side. Then the alien was back in the form Paul recognised. "Wow, that's some trick. You'd do well on the stage."

The alien's shoulders slumped slightly. "It is very lonely for us out here. We are a long way from home. Imagine how we felt when we found a human who finds us attractive how we actually are."

"How you... You mean you usually wear skintight black leather?"

"This is not 'leather' - this is how we are. Apart from the boots, the gloves, the helmets, and the covering over our genitals, all of which we took from your mind as things that turn you on greatly, we are not wearing anything. This shiny black 'leather' is our skin."

So that's why it's so skintight, thought Paul. And then he thought, 'WOW!'

"Ok, will you do something for me? Remember you can erase my memory if necessary."

"Yes. What is it you wish me to do?"

"Will you go back out of that door, strip bollock naked, and come back in as you are - totally? No helmet, no mask, no boots, bare genitals. Just you."

There came again the clicking sound. Was that laughter? "Yes I will do that. I was hoping so much that you would ask me to." He stood up, and put a hand on Paul's shoulder. "Before I do that, let me thank you." He gazed into Paul's face, and the clicking sound came softly. "You are beautiful."

Paul smiled gently at the alien; he was beautiful too.

"If it doesn't work, please don't scream. The others don't know I'm talking to you and I'll get into trouble."

"I'll try not to," smiled Paul.

The alien disappeared through the wall panel, and Paul waited.

What if he's got tentacles for a face? But he's got a beautiful black leather torso... What if he's got worms for hair? But those muscular shiny black thighs... What if I faint as soon as I see him naked? He realized that this could very easily be the end of a beautiful friendship. Was it worth it? His cock was shrivelled and tiny between his legs as he waited, with extreme apprehension.

The wall panel opened, and Paul closed his eyes. He heard the alien approach, and stand in front of him. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes.

For a moment he stared, expressionless.

"Oh fuck," he whispered, his eyes travelling over the naked alien body in front of him.

He reached out and took the alien in his arms. "Oh fuck, you are gorgeous.........."

The untranslatable clicking sound came again - loud and continuous. Paul knew now that it wasn't laughter - it was an expression of love.