The Dorrek Alternative partial update 1 27-03-2021 (Patreon)

He just could not stomach being at the party any longer.

He could not.

He just could not trust himself to not punch that ugly goblin's
smiling face and cause some big political mess or something.  Damn
smug asshole.

He dropped onto the bed of his spartan, military quarters.  The Nova
Corps certainly did not pamper its personnel.

The night had certainly not gone well.  First the thing with the alien
princess.  Then the fight and all that mess.  He still smarted.  Maybe
he had a broken rib.  And then that whole deal with her, with Ms.
Storm, her and the alien emperor creep.  He still could not get his
mind around it.

How had that happened?

How had that stunted green creep managed to get her?  HER?

Because there had to be something there, hard as it was to believe.
He did not know just what, but there had to be.  Because no girl would
kiss anyone like that just for politics or whatever else.  Not like
that.  Nothing like that.

He was not buying that.

She actually looked like she was having the time of her life or
something, necking with the guy like that, rubbing against him, having
her butt groped like...

Just how the hell had all that come about?  Had he missed something?

Sure, who could blame the old guy for wanting to put the moves on
someone like her?  Wouldn't he have taken the chance himself if he had
dared?  If she had not been married, and famous, and classy, and so,
so damn perfect?  Someone who would surely never look twice at the
likes of him?

Yet she had let that damn alien geezer not just make a pass at her,
but also put his hands on her, kiss her, grope her, like there was no
tomorrow.  Right before everyone.

What gives?

If he did not know better, he would have guessed they looked like they
had been banging together or something.

Surely she couldn't have, could she?  She was Susan Storm!  The
Invisible Girl!  She was married to Mister Fantastic!

If she wanted to fool around wouldn't she do it with someone like Tony
Stark or someone like that?  Or that guy from Atlantis?  The one in
the trunks?  That was what they always talked about in the tabloids
and TMZ and all that.  Not that he would have ever believed it?

But that guy?  THAT guy?  Short and ugly and green old dude?

She couldn't have.  Not for real.

She must have been trying to make her husband jealous.  Or getting
back at him for the Adora chick.  Something like that.

But still, couldn't it have been... anyone else?  Anyone less creepy?
Anyone at all?

Hell, he had been there, too, at the party, hadn't he?  Not that he
wanted to disrespect Mister Fantastic or anything, really!  But if his
wife wanted to make a point or something, how would it have been any
worse?  Than doing THAT with an alien?  An ugly old alien?

But he really had not seemed to mind, had he?  Mr. Richards?  What was
up with that?  His wife is getting worked over by an old ugly alien
dude right before everyone and he is going on about wanting to go work
or something?  Was he mental or what?  Was there something else going
on?

Maybe he was like one of those older dudes who would rather...  watch?
 Or something?

Rich leaned back onto the mattress, facing up, arms behind his head.

Who could understand married people anyway?

But really...  His wife was...  her.  HER.  Susan Storm.  How could
he, or anyone, want to see her with someone else instead?

To see HER, so beautiful and nice and...  perfect, just perfect, being
with...  being...

Jeez!  How fucked up would that be?

Not that it made her look...  bad, or anything.  Not her, like as a
person.  Or in any way.

Like anything could make her look bad, really.

But he just could not get that out of his mind, no matter how much he
wanted to.  Get out of his mind the images of that guy, the short,
green, wrinkled emperor, so old, and ugly, and...  alien...  yet
touching her, kissing her...

He had squeezed her butt so hard, really, and it looked so firm and
round, squeezed and pressed up like that...

And her face, so lovely, smacked against that green, wrinkled alien
mug...  Her lips open, her tongue going into...

The way she...

Alright, so it had actually looked kinda hot.  Despite everything.
Despite how wrong it looked, that she, that she'd be...  necking with
that alien, mouth open and leaning against him, and almost...  almost
looking like she was into it, too.  Really into it.

Right before her husband.  Right before all of them.

She could not have been that much into it.  Not like he thought it had
looked.  He must be misremembering or something.

And anyway, it was just a kiss, wasn't it?  No matter how hot or into
it she seemed to be, it was just a kiss.  Just a kiss.

It did not mean it would go any farther or anything.  She had kissed
him, hadn't she?  And nothing had come of it.  Alright, it had been
kinda just a quick peck, not like...  not at all like...  with...

But it wasn't like she would have let that creep bang her, right?
Like, really bang her.  The old ugly green bastard.  Bang her.

Of course not.  She would not.  Not her.  Not Ms. Susan.

She was just way too classy for that, too decent, too much a good
girl, to ever let that ugly creep go all the way with her, to let that
short green fucker get between her legs, to let him get her naked and
bend her over and get inside her...

The loud mechanical sound startled him and Rich sat up quickly, wiping
his hand on his side, having let it move from behind his head some
time back.

The door was signalling that someone requested access.

Could it be another of those Nova jerks?  At this hour?  They had been
giving him a hard time all week, what with his not being Xandarian yet
bearing a high-level costume, going on about earning rank and all
that, as if he had not saved their asses during the Skrull invasion.
Bigoted jerks.

Rich opened the door, ready to wish to hell whoever it was.

"I need you to help me,"  she said and walked in.



PART THREE:   JUST A SKRULL THING?


She walked into the luxurious bedchamber, naked.

The smile spread wide across Dorrek's face.


***************************************************


Two massively-built Skrull warriors stood guard before the outer
doors.  Other two were placed strategically farther along each stretch
of the private access corridor.  All had extensive bruises on their
face and knuckles.  Mostly the former.

The doors suddenly opened wide.

"What the fuck-?"  Multiple curses in gutter Skrull language rose up.
Heavy weaponry in hand, the guards deployed into the foyer.  After a
lengthy examination, they returned to their position outside, puzzled.
No alarms had been activated at any time.

"Bl'kd, shouldn't we report-?"

"We have orders.  They must not be disturbed unless under
fully-confirmed extreme threat."  He angrily slapped the control pad
to shut the door again.  "Shitty Xandarian systems.  Can't wait to get
back home."


***************************************************


Cries rose high and loud, filling the large room, followed by groans
and moans and more cries at an ever more urgent pace.

The enormous phallus pushed forward, forcing tender moist flesh to
yield before its massive girth, quickly reaching bottom with the power
of its thrust, to then withdraw and repeat its motion back and forth
with relentless fury, in and out of the drenched depths, the swollen
pink trim of the entrance proving shy witness to the repeated rushing
passage of the monstrous invader.

It seemed like barely over half of the massive member was taken in
each forceful thrust, even at the moment of deepest, most aggressive
penetration, that despite her obvious readiness, her openly evident
desperate need, but surely it would not be physically possible for her
to take much more of that enormous rod of hard, dark-green meat.  For
her, or anyone else.  That so much of the thick, veiny length could
actually fit in there as it did was astonishing.

How could she?  Take all that?  All of that?  So deep?  So hard?

The high cries became outright screams as the long legs began to
tremble uncontrollably.  Fists clenched handfuls of the silken bed
sheets, trembling, and finally relaxed in slow, gradual collapse into
weak, quivering lassitude.

Weakly, she gasped his name once, twice, before her voice gave out
just like the rest of her had.

Dorrek breathed deeply, having halted his furious thrusting into the
beautiful female stretched out before him when her orgasm had reached
its peak.

"That...  will not do,"  he muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow
and then spreading it over the smooth curve of the buttocks before
him, before drawing back, withdrawing from the spent female frame
face-down on the vast bed on his floating platform.

The still-hard phallus took a daunting long time to pull out, dripping
plentiful fluids with its retreat.  Susan Storm could not believe how
long it took, how long before the monstrous member was fully out,
dangling heavily between the Skrull's skinny bent legs like a third
lower limb, its green flesh still throbbing as with a life of its own.

She could not do anything but stare, stare at it.

In plain sight, it was actually even larger, even more shocking in its
inhuman size, at its daunting, actually-offensive excess than she
remembered it, than she recalled even from a while back this very
night.

How had she taken any of it before?  At the terrace, just earlier?  Or
at his rooms, in his world, back then?  How much had she managed to
take each time?

More than just now?  More than Adora?

Why did it unnerve her so much, to ponder just that?  To think that
there was likely so much of it that she had never felt?  Inside her?

So much of him?

As she stared, Dorrek unceremoniously grabbed the limp Suzerain of
Xandar and spread her limp thighs even wide apart, while his green,
bony-knuckled hand reached for a nearby placed dispenser of clear,
viscous fluid, making Sue open her eyes wide with disbelief.

Surely he would not try that.  He could not.  He would tear her apart.

After a lengthy squirt and careful application of fluid, the bulbous
huge head pressed against the exposed puckered anal entrance, firmly
forcing its way in.

A low, deep groan rose, like the desperate grumble of an injured
animal, the first of many, many more.

The primal sounds were not surprising, she thought, horrified.  He
must be splitting her in two.

The thrusts began with deliberate slowness, but quickly built up its
cadence, until it was a savage, brutal pumping that shook all of her
body.  Soon the tautly contracted buttocks and spread thighs began to
once again tremble violently, and hoarse cries rose, higher than ever,
as the now-raised perky rear was completely pounded down against the
thick bedding.

Sue shivered, despite not feeling cold at all, rather the opposite, as
her whole body trembled in a kind of sympathetic echo, while her mind
reeling at each successive, violent thrust, aghast to imagine how it
must feel like that, there, just now, forcing its way so deeply, so
roughly, so ruthlessly.

Flustered, she self-consciously moved her hand away from her upper
thigh, where it had begun to inch closer to its inner curve, in
automatic response to the highly-charged situation, and shifted her
stance slowly, knowing she had to remain silent, lest she be heard and
found out, knowing she should not do that which she had almost just
done, done without thinking, done by merely reacting, responding,
physically, and more, to this, to them, to what she was witnessing,
merely an spectator now, watching from the sidelines, so unlike not
that long before, when she had been the one involved, and anxious
about being watched, being seen in what she could be doing.

She again nervously shifted, her upper thighs rubbing against each
other under the slick, tight dress, rubbing her hands against her
sides, as if to discharge the tension building in them.

She should not.

She should not be here.

She should not be watching this.

She should not feel like this, while watching.

But she did not get out.  She did not look away.  She could not.

She drew her now-loose hair behind one ear with a trembling hand,
letting its back brush against her face as she lowered it, to rest
over her breast, where her heart beat faster and faster.  How could
they not hear that?  It sounded so loud to her, so impossible loud, a
thunderous pulse that raced all over her.

But how silly of her to think that.  Of course they could not hear,
engrossed in their rutting together, like two animals in heat, the
odious wrinkled runt there shoving his huge monster cock into Adora's
ass so hard and deep that nothing more would matter, would exist,
beyond that, beyond them, the two of them, right there, fucking just
before her.

She knew it had to have been a trap.

She had expected it to be a trap, an elaborately prepared trap, waiting for her.

The damn asshole had set her up, slyly putting her just where he
wanted her to be, at her most vulnerable, giving her the holos,
knowing she would watch, watch that copy of herself wantonly fucking
her loved ones, watch that horrible falsehood play out in lurid
detail, those lies that she just could not bear to be known, so she
would have to do as he wanted and come here, to his chambers, to his
room, to this place where he had invited her, summoned her, just so
arrogantly confident from that hateful position of leverage, of power
over her that the damn recordings gave him, knowing that she would
come, knowing that she must come.  Come to him.  Come.  Here.  Now.
Because she had to.  Had to.  Had to face him.  To resolve this at
last.  This between the two of them.

But here he was fucking the shit out of this Xandarian slut instead.
Fucking Adora.

While she watched.

She winced.  Fuck him.  Fuck her.  Fuck them both.

They seemed to pay heed to her thoughts as the grunting and groaning
grew louder and louder.

It was so obscene.  So vulgar.  So dirty.

Had it been like that, before?  When it had been her?  Or had he been
gentler?  Slower?  More considerate?  Of her feelings?  Of how much
she could bear? Or had it been rougher, instead?  Much rougher?
Forcing her beyond any concern, any consideration?

Did it matter?  Really?

He could break that damn slut's ass, the hateful bastard, for all she cared.

Because why would she?  Why should she?  Care?

That it was Adora now being impaled by that giant green cock, instead
of her?  That it was Adora who had just climaxed with him inside her
and was now rushing to yet another orgasm?  That she would likely be
his new wife soon?  To be the one being fucked like that all the time?
 Maybe even the one getting knocked up by him?  Getting made to bear
his children?

She gasped, out loud, her straying hand having betrayed her, drifting
yet again, in her distraction, in her growing anger, under the thin
fabric of her dress, her fingers seeking to echo the frantic rhythm
playing out before her, calling to her.

Her legs trembled and she pressed her back to the gently-curving wall
behind her, forcing back a groan, pulling her hand away.

She would not.  Could not.

Maybe the bastard had wanted her to watch.  Wanted this to happen.

She could not give him that satisfaction.

She could not give herself that satisfaction, either.  Not like that.
Not that way.

It took a long while for the cries and moans to once more fade slowly
into hoarse gasps, and for the huge green penis to finally exit the
cruelly-ravaged orifice, glistening with fluid, while the beautiful
female body remained limp, face down, the young woman's eyes still
closed, as they had been throughout her whole furious sodomization,
the blue make-up around them running dark down her face from the
steady sweat and tears of her ordeal, her loose straight brown head a
sweaty mess spread about her head.

Playfully, Dorrek slapped her rear, and her lips quivered, as if to
speak, but nothing could be heard, and her body remained otherwise
unresponsive.

The scrawny, knobby-jointed, naked green Skrull shape looked even more
grotesque there, kneeling behind the svelte, graceful limp body of the
now-finally unconscious Suzerain of Xandar, the oversized phallus
still pulsing from its recent ravaging of her contiguous openings.

"That was better,"  Dorrek chuckled, breathing heavily from his own
recent exertions, before his green, dark visage turned around, towards
the open door to the bedchambers, where Susan Storm stood, still
invisible.  "Wasn't it?"


***************************************************


Reed frowned.  "Now that is a surprise.  Can we go over the data again?"

"Why, of course, but it's quite late, Great Mind Richards.  Will your
companion not protest?"

"Oh, she doesn't mind if I keep odd hours."


***************************************************


She blanched.  He knew?  How could he know?

"Come, follow me.  We should let her rest.  It was hard for her, as
you saw.  Very hard."
Naked, the gangly Skrull strode out of the bedroom, into the luxurious
lounge with all-white-decor.

How long had he known?

Did he know that she-?

"Oh, please.  I know you're here.  The security system immediately
flagged the use of the access chip I gave you.  I was just too busy to
welcome you just then, as you could see.  But I'm pleased you accepted
my invitation. Very pleased."  Golden liquid was decanted from an
elaborately-shaped flask into a cut-crystal cup.  "Will you have some,
too?"

Have some?  Too?  Had he no shame?

"No," she rasped.

"Really?  You're missing out.  It's quite intoxicating."  He drank
deeply.  "Xandar can sure make quite a good treat."

She did not reply, instead began to circle around him, moving toward the exit.

She shouldn't have come. She knew she shouldn't have.  It had been a
mistake.  Everything had been.  Everything.

He emptied his cup.  "So, was it good for you, too?"

"Good?"

He gestured towards the bedroom's still open entrance. "Enjoying our
dear host's, ah, hospitality?"

"Enjoying-?  I did not-?"

"But you must have.  Enjoyed.  Watching.  You must have.  You
certainly took your time.  To take it in.  While she took it in."

"I-I wasn't taking my time!  I just-!"

He smiled broadly.  "She is a brash little s'yinx, our Adora.
Tightest little ass in all Xandar.  Well worth taking all of it, I
assure you."

"Oh, I'm sure."

"There are many things worth taking all of, as you well know. Or as
much as can be taken. In greater and greater measure, each time."

She frowned, surprised by the closeness of his words to his earlier
thoughts.  But she could not let him trip her again, deceive her again
with his ramblings.

"You'll both do great together, I know.  Congratulations.  Live
happily ever after and all that,"  she stated dryly.

Dorrek's corrugated brow rose quizzically.  "Why, does it-?"

"I'm just here to return these."  The holo and door-access chips
became visible just under an elaborate geometric construct of apparent
artistic merit floating over a small pink-streaked marble-like table
at the edge of the room.  "And to tell you that whatever you meant
to-"

"But you should have them.  I meant you to have them, in case you-"

"No.  No.  I'll not have anything of yours, Dorrek.  Anything."

"But you already had something of mine, Susan.  Quite a lot of it,
too.  Have you forgotten?"

"You damn bastard, don't start-"

"Really, almost as much as Adora did-"

"To hell with you, Dorrek.  I'm going.  Now."

"Did you get wet, watching us?  Remembering when it was you, instead
of her?  Did you touch yourself?  Did you finger your wet cunt while I
fucked Adora's tight-?"

"Will you shut up about Adora, damn it?"  She breathed deeply,
flustered.  Why was she wasting time arguing?  She had to get out.
Now.  Right now.  "Just know that you'd better not try to ever-"

"My, my.  I see now."

"See?"

"You are jealous."

"What?"

"Jealous.  You are jealous.  Of Adora.  Of my having been with her,
just now.  Of my fucking her.  You really are."

"Don't be stupid!  How could I ever-ever feel jealous?  Of you and
her?  Of you with...  ANYONE?"

"You don't have to be, Susan."

"I am not-!"

"She was just a warm-up, really, while I waited for you.  There's no
need to be jealous."

"I AM NOT  JEALOUS!"

The floating art object and the table under it crashed loudly against
a wall, thrown by invisible force, to then fall in pieces onto the
carpeted floor.



TO BE CONTINUED