Control

There are a lot of advantages to having a workable earthling body.

The roots sink deep, they move quickly. The girl gives a jerking, panicked yelp and grasps at her waist like she's trying to push her hands through her skin to unroot you. Even if she could tear herself open, she couldn't stop you now. In a minute, you feel through her skin. In another, you taste through her mouth. Before she can fully realize that she is losing control, you push her consciousness into the back of her mind. She watches in disbelief as she rises from her bed, walking over to her bedside mirror.

She's young, straw-haired, has an innocent but slightly wary face. You mimic emotions into the mirror, acting out a pantomime of human behavior. By the time you feel satisfied, she seems to better understand her situation. She bangs against the walls, screams, cries. It's easy to keep her in the box. You slide her nightgown off over her head.

Her name is Mary. In the mirror, you hold her body straight. The soft pale skin of her torso stands out from the leathery tan of her arms and face. There's a sinew of muscle on her bones and wrinkles on her face, a hard-lived eighteen. She thinks she has obnoxiously average breasts, but her stomach is flat like she's seen in the pictures. Her appearance is unexceptional, missing either major deformity or what she considers striking features. She is young, she is full of energy, she will do.

You step to the dresser, pulling on a plaid dress. The act calms her, the garment enough of a favorite to make her remember some semblance of feeling like she is in control. Skipping underwear, just a hindrance for you, snaps her back. She bangs on the wall again. You slip into her work boots and out of her room.

The TV is playing the station sign-off, images of grain fields and ocean waves overset by the stars and stripes. The hazy images and the distant, almost warbling music always made her feel very small. Like she was penned in by the surrounding hugeness of the night. You reach down and turn the box off. Mary shivers, the night is getting cold, but she won't be coming back.

Outside of the shack you look down the long dirt road leading off of the property and down to the main road. You consider the family truck for a moment, but the thing is in such terrible condition that you wouldn't get far. So long as you're in control, it's not like Mary can die, not properly.

She walks down the long dusty road, feeling a bone shiver setting in. She's been out this late, but never in a summer dress, never with nothing underneath. She exists in a constant state of gentle unease, ready to jump at whatever comes out of the bushes.

But she reaches the road without issue. At this point she is shivering more seriously. You may have underestimated just how cold the nights would get. Again, it is of no risk to you, but you have to share her sensations. The shivering makes it hard to think. You keep walking, turning right down the main road. Into town, even a podunk like Roswell is better than here. It's best to limit how many genes you intake from a singular family branch, too high a risk of adopting their shortcomings. You hear a soft roaring coming over the road behind you. Mary says to run and hide, you do not.

The truck slows and keeps pace with Mary's walking. "Where ya headed?"

"Into the city."

The man looks up at the mostly blank road ahead. "You mean Roswell? Or you headed further?"

"What's in Roswell?"

He looks confused, "You mean you're headed there and you ain't know what it is?"

You pull out your best impersonation of one of the doe-eyed damsels from the TV. "I've never been to a big city like Roswell before, it seems scary."

"Lady, there's something wrong with your head. Ain't nothing in Roswell."

You shift hard into one of the more risque women Mary's father hadn't wanted her to know about. "You gonna give me a ride or not?"

The inside of his vehicle is a crowded little thing. As soon as you're in he starts down the road. Up close he's somebody Mary might consider good-looking as a partner. His face has a nicely cut jawline, some facial hair but no beard like her dad. His eyes are locked on the road with focus, not like the slack-jawed casual look her dad always seemed to have. He was everything she had admired about those monochrome cowboys on the serials. He felt dangerous, despite his friendly tone.

"So what're you lookin for?" He chirps, almost nervously.

"I'm just looking to find some people, it's so lonely out here."

"Yeah? I'm not gonna get in trouble for taking you out to Roswell, am I? You running away?"

"What if I am?"

"Well if you were, you'd have to find some way to pay."

The vehicle starts to slow, you worry for a moment that you missed some part of a custom. Mary feels a knife twisting in her stomach. When it stops, the door locks. You get ready to fight for your life, but the driver simply unzips his pants and shuffles to pull his cock out.

"Is this your idea of romance?" You ask slyly, using a line from one of the programs.

"If you wanna get to Roswell you best shut up and start sucking."

Mary is screaming to run, her attraction to the man replaced with cold terror. She's convinced that even if she does go through with it, he'll ask for more. The idea of doing it, even if slightly exciting, terrifies her. She's never done anything of the sort, and anybody who walked up to the car could see it. And with a complete stranger. And... and....

You ignore her, lowering Mary's head down to the man's cock. You slide her lips around the head of his shaft and lick under the fold of skin wrapped around it. He isn't fully aroused yet, but he is quickly becoming so. You feel the vehicle start to move again, so you continue.

"Thatta girl, get it deep in there, I wanna cum down your throat." He growls.

Mary is trying to hide in shame as you lift her head. "I'll let you cum in my pussy if you take me further than Roswell."

He barks a chuckle, then takes a hand off of the wheel to push Mary's head back down onto his cock. "God damn, you dirty bitch. Suck me good and I'll think about it."

You try to push his entire length down Mary's throat, but Mary's body struggles. Mary seems to consider his genitals unusably large, though her inexperience leads you to discount her opinion. You override her body's gagging and sputtering as you **** more and more of his shaft in. His hand on the back of Mary's had balls into a fist, grabbing a handful of her shaggy hair roughly. He thrusts up with his hips while pushing down with his hand, managing to make Mary's lips touch the base of his shaft. He groans and grunts with relief every time he feels himself completely enclosed in her throat before pulling himself back out. In spite of Mary's mental protests, her body reacts to being used and abused with shameless arousal.

He shifts in his seat, enjoying himself but clearly wanting something a bit rougher. He starts to pull and push Mary's head more violently, causing tears to come down her cheeks. You would like to get this over with and start collecting seed, but Mary's inexperience shows. She has no idea how to do anything other than sit there and be used. That doesn't seem to be an issue, the fact that he is degrading his partner as much as he is seems to please the male.

He pulls Mary's head up off of his cock, his slick shaft twitches almost angrily. His breathing is quick and ragged and he's pulling the car over.

"Take your panties off." He snarls.

"I don't have any." Mary chokes out.

"Get out."

You climb out of the car, he throws the back door open and thrusts Mary inside forcefully.

He crawls over her, pinning her body against the backseat with his own. Her face is pressed down into the cushion, her ass in the air only covered by the hanging flap of the plaid dress. He leans, breathing, in Mary's ear as he flips it up. Mary has stopped trying to hide, accepting that she can't change what is happening.

He thrusts his cock inside of her without resistance, panting like a wild animal. Mary feels the heat and the pressure and she whimpers. He makes desperately quick thrusts. With each slap of his waist against her backside he breathes heavily in your ear. The intensity of the dragging moments is what causes the most excitement. The act is artless, almost panicked. He doesn't even notice his body going numb, light as air. When he finishes, it's like the burst of an uncontrollable pressure finally forcing its way out and through. He whines, body jerking on top of Mary. You feel his seed splashing inside of you and you quietly absorb each ecstatic drop. He's probably never had it this good before. That's one mercy you can grant him.

You don't have many more mercies in store. No sooner does he thrust for a final time and go limp on top of you than you grab onto his arms. He gives a confused grunt before the inside of Mary's pussy starts to slither and writhe against him in a way that would be overstimulating even if he hadn't just finished.

"Wha?!" He groans, half in panic and half in discomfort. He thrashes, trying to pull himself free, but by his own choice of position, he now couldn't free himself without losing his arms. Some animals would gnaw their way out when faced with that choice, it seems he lacks the resolve.

He winces as you **** his second, far more intense orgasm out of him. It isn't one he communicates with hot and heavy breaths or deep frantic thrusts, but rather the grappling desperation of a fly in a spider's web. His balls pump frantically, against their own construct. He tries desperately to pull himself free as his body screams for a rest, but it isn't coming.

You have the option to let him go, maybe keep him as a thrall. Elsewise, you can find a new use for him as something far less... dignified.