Alien Encounter

By Annie Oakfield

Mankind’s fascination with Mars is about to take on a brand-new twist.

Three months after all contact is lost with a previous mission, NASA scrambles together a brand-new crew and launch their proposed relief mission sixteen months early in an attempt to solve the mystery.

But the peculiar crew dynamic quickly leads to a constantly-changing set of relationships, where sharing becomes normal, as does group and bisexual activity.

Flight Engineer Will Carmichael suspects the crew’s mixture of tastes, as well as the inclusion of NASA’s first transgender astronaut, has been deliberately orchestrated.

But what could possibly be gained from such a diverse spectrum of preferences?

READER ADVISORY: If you are offended by the idea of six astronauts having frequent and messy sex with men, women, and transgenders . . . at least tell your friends. They might love it!

PUBLISHER NOTE: Contains erotic scenes — Voyeurism, M/M/F, F/F, M/M, and Transgender sex. 35,900 words.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Luminosity Publishing LLP
• Release date: Dec 11, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463857120

Annie Oakfield

Annie Oakfield is a keen writer and has been penning naughty stories since the ‘old days.’ Most of her stories were simply erotic fantasies that she shared with only a few close, friends. But with time and years of life experience, Annie now writes stories inspired by her real-life experiences, and drawn from her fantasies.Annie grew up reading fantasy and science fiction and has applied her love of these genres to a new series of erotic short stories.Annie enjoys partying with her friends into the early hours, but she is just as content to relax with a nice hot bath.

Book preview

ALIEN ENCOUNTER

Shifting Moons, Book One

ANNIE OAKFIELD

Mankind’s fascination with Mars is about to take on a brand-new twist.

Three months after all contact is lost with a previous mission, NASA scrambles together a brand-new crew and launch their proposed relief mission sixteen months early in an attempt to solve the mystery.

But the peculiar crew dynamic quickly leads to a constantly-changing set of relationships, where sharing becomes normal, as does group and bisexual activity.

Flight Engineer Will Carmichael suspects the crew’s mixture of tastes, as well as the inclusion of NASA’s first transgender astronaut, has been deliberately orchestrated.

But what could possibly be gained from such a diverse spectrum of preferences?

READER ADVISORY: If you are offended by the idea of six astronauts having frequent and messy sex with men, women, and transgenders . . . at least tell your friends. They might love it!

PUBLISHER NOTE: Contains erotic scenes — Voyeurism, M/M/F, F/F, M/M, and Transgender sex. 35,900 words.

ALIEN ENCOUNTER

Shifting Moons, Book One

ANNIE OAKFIELD

booklogo

WWW.LUMINOSITYPUBLISHING.COM

LUMINOSITY PUBLISHING LLP

ALIEN ENCOUNTER

Shifting Moons, Book One

Copyright © December 2019 ANNIE OAKFIELD

Cover Art by Poppy Designs

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No part of this literary work may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without the written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

The author acknowledges the trademark status and the following trademark owners mentioned in this work of fiction:

Perspex ™

CHAPTER ONE

Three months to Mars was a huge improvement on mankind’s previous best of eight, but eighty-eight days in a rotating tin can still frayed my nerves to their limit. Sure, I’d received the standard isolation training at NASA, but back then, a lifetime ago, we’d always known there was an exit strategy. Nestled in a low-pressure laboratory in Texas, surrounded by humanity beneath a comforting blanket of air, escape had always been an option. If we freaked out or broke down — although most times the scientists would allow us to work through our issues — rescue was guaranteed.

Of course, if we bugged out, we’d be ending any possibility of a career in space, but the doctors had to make certain we were psychologically prepared for living in close confinement, whether that meant being cooped up in a small ship or sheltering under a dome, so it was probably for the best. Nobody wanted a psycho in the next bunk. We’d already seen the havoc an unhinged astronaut could wreak.

Nova Meridiani base, an optimistic collection of domes and connecting tubes manned by eight ’nauts, had been taken out by a single woman, Doctor Phyllis Green. Wielding a fire ax, she’d ended all communication with Earth, and possibly the lives of her colleagues. In the five months since, no one had heard anything from Meridiani, and everyone feared the worst. Even the Orbital Reconnaissance Network failed to reassure Earth that life still endured.

Of course, we couldn’t leave it at that. The next planned mission — our crew — was hastily retrained in close-quarter combat and equipped with lightweight batons. To our dismay, my good friend Jonas Cole was scrubbed from the mission, replaced by a transgender psychologist. She had a hard time integrating during our final weeks of training, not because we were ’phobes, but because everyone liked Jonas. I’d cried for days as the thought of leaving him behind crushed my heart. Ironically, our newest crew member was the one who persuaded me to tear up my resignation letter.

Don’t waste all your training, Will, Jonas pleaded. Not for an old soak like me.

I clung to him, a deep ache crushing my chest. I can’t go.

Of course you can. You’ve talked about this mission non-stop since you were selected.

I won’t see you for years.

And I won’t see you. But we won’t be apart . . . not really.

I don’t understand.

Radio, William. Specifically, video calling.

But you won’t be there for real.

Don’t think of it as losing a dude. He laughed. Think of it as gaining a pair of tits.

Sabine has tits, I pointed out. Nice ones. Sure, Rose is pretty flat, but we didn’t need another pair on board, especially chemically-grown ones.

Now you sound like a ’phobe.

I sighed. I’m angry. The psych guys chose two women and four men for this mission because it was the optimum mix for a long trip. We all trained together for over two years, and now they change it at the last minute? What the hell kind of effect will that have on the mission? We might end up with another ax attack!

Jonas squeezed my hand, You’re being over-dramatic. Chloe will integrate, just as you did . . . you newbie.

I smiled at the oft-repeated reference. Two weeks after the original crew was selected, Bob Turnbull had broken his femur and I’d stepped up to replace him. Twenty-one months later, Jonas still called me ‘Newbie,’ and the name had stuck. Even my mission coveralls were embroidered ‘New-B,’ Bob’s replacement.

You can’t let this affect the mission, he warned.

I won’t. My voice was tight; tears welled in my eyes and I inhaled deeply to crush the pain. But when he kissed me, I broke down, clinging to him as if I’d never let go. He was ten years my senior, and a grumpy sourpuss at times, but I loved him with every fiber of my being. Tears streaked both our faces as our mouths pressed together.

One more night, he promised. Let’s make some memories, but you have to promise to keep them warm when you’re out there.

I will.

And so we’d gone back to his place, where he’d undressed me, kissing me tenderly even as sobs still shook my body. Despite my grief, I was hard and ready for him, and he took me in his mouth until I ached, and my slickness coated his tongue.

And then he laid me on the bed, face-down, and climbed on top, nudging and pressing his hardness against my tight opening until I’d relaxed enough to invite him inside.

You’re mine, he whispered into my ear. You’ll always be mine, Noob. Never forget that.

I won’t. Tears flowed freely as he slid inside, filling me one final time with his intruding heat. One arm slid around my neck, and with his weight pinning me to the mattress, I was trapped, unable to move as he used my body. But I loved to be dominated; I was the passive one in our year-long relationship, and I’d been deeply comforted by the knowledge he’d take care of me all the way to Mars.

I’m going to . . . miss you . . . so much! I groaned between his gentle thrusting.

Don’t speak, Noob. Take it like a man. Be strong for me, make me proud.

Make . . . you . . . proud, I groaned.

That’s my boy. Here . . . He pushed deep and I groaned loud and long. Remember this night. Remember how this feels. He kissed my ear. Remember me, Will.

I love you, Jonas. His answer was to move more quickly, thrusting faster and faster until his skin slapped against mine. I cried out and clung to the bed, helpless to do anything except endure the hard fucking until he came deep inside me.

The delicious warmth of his cum spread through my pelvis. His deep groans muffled my soft whimpers; his hips jerked and shuddered as he slowed, stroking my sensitive passage until the sensation became too much for him. His arm tightened against my neck briefly before relaxing, and the darkness cleared from the edges of my vision.

I love you, Will, he murmured softly.

Love you, too, I managed before the tears flowed again. We lay together for an age, his shrinking cock tickling my insides, my thoughts little more than swirling nonsense. When he finally slipped out, Jonas climbed off, rolled me over and kissed his way down my body to take me in his mouth. My hands stroked his scalp, guiding his rhythm as he restored my hardness, and then made my swollen shaft ache for release.

I didn’t last very long, crying out and writhing as I squirted my cum into his mouth for the last time. He swallowed it all, making soft, appreciative noises, before using his thumb to squeeze out the last drops onto his tongue.

When he moved up to kiss me, his tongue danced around mine, coating it with slick residue. Very soon, my mouth tingled from the exchange of fluids, a final memory of our loving. We spooned, dozing together for my final hours of freedom in the open air. Afterward, I’d enter quarantine with the rest of the crew, to ensure we carried no residual bacteria into the capsule.

I smiled at the memories, still strong despite a month of quarantine and twelve weeks in space. Jonas still sent messages every Monday, the weekly anniversary of our last meeting. The pain of our unexpected parting was less acute these days, but I still ached at the injustice of it all.

You should strap in, a soft voice reminded me. I blinked away the daydream and turned to look at Chloe, who hung in the air beside me, one hand clutching the ship-length ladder.

We still have thirty minutes before the sequence starts, I pointed out.

She smiled gently, her green eyes searching my face. I know, but it’s best to be prepared.

I guess. I glanced at the status panel, where green digits marked the time to orbital insertion. Six weeks ago, our Mars Transit Vehicle Rhea had turned one-eighty to approach Mars backward, and we’d begun the long process of deceleration. Today, her fusion engines idled, ready for a final and frantic burn to kill off the remnants of the fantastic speed we’d achieved on the way out from Earth. The twin Prometheus engines were the secret to our mission’s success, allowing for a near-continuous burn, interrupted by twice-monthly coasting to correct our course, and conduct a few gravity-sensitive science experiments.

For my own part, I found the lack of acceleration relaxing. It was also a great opportunity to have sex, although I’d missed out when the engines quietened the first time around; I’d been mourning Jonas.

You still miss him . . . She rubbed my upper arm. Don’t you?

I nodded. "I always will. We . . . connected in a way