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Deep down, Communications Officer Douglas Eiffel knew there was a highly rational part of his brain that helped him tell apart reality from fiction. There was some suspension of disbelief lingering in his mind, some sort of six sense that told him to stand back and process things.
That told him that plant monsters and mad scientists were just fantasy. That space cadets couldn't come back from the afterlife as evil cyborgs. That no human being could befriend an artificial intelligence. That everything was grounded on a simple, boring plain of real life that he could ignore out of existence. But this small talent among many small talents had grown useless ever since signing that waver, shaking that man's hand, and taking that suit that has been the cause of more than a few infamous wedgie incidents.
With his mind currently drifting between a state of dreaming and paralyzing, sentient fear, his brain was put into extreme overdrive. Something was fighting against the chilling dread of his current situation, as if trying to physically teleport him out of the depths of the universe and back to the Hephaestus.
No, back to Earth.
Back to his warm bed in his shabby apartment in his shabby town where he could shabbily exist in comforting monotony. Where the highlight of his day was ordering a pizza and watching reruns of The Simpsons after a hard day at work. Where he didn't have to worry about being off the ground or about coughing up half of his bloodstream. Nope, just pulling stray hairs from his shower drain and calling his mom once a week.
He squinted up. Or maybe he squinted down-it was hard to tell at this angle-and made out a single stream of light dangling above him. He could easily be in the middle of a potential meteor shower or interrupting the path of a comet. Doug swallowed heavily and his natural instinct instructed him to steer himself out of the way, but with no support cable or HERA or Minkowski to guide him, he was was stuck doing his first evasive maneuver: The Doggie Paddle. It worked once, it'll work again.
He tried to move his left hand only to get a cold, dead weight shifting it back into place. He tried again with his big toe. His ring finger. That one really wiggly part of his nose. Nothing. He grit his teeth-surprised he could even pull that off-as he tried to steady himself. He was in space after all, claustrophobia wasn't a factor when body weight wasn't teetering you down to soil. When there wasn't a single inkling of a coffin holding him in place, why bother with the idea that he was somehow buried and that his cries for help would fall on a deaf party of mourners?
Doug thought to himself about a number of lingering possibilities. Here he was, likely lost in space limbo for all eternity where he hung between Space Jesus and Space Satan debating the winnings of his soul over a game of cosmic chess. Or maybe they didn't have the time to use that much brain power and would settle on flipping a coin. Doug figured that the crack and pop that struck his inner earlobe meant heaven had all their bets on heads. He also guessed that the blinding light dancing overhead meant all the little cherubs were giggling over slipping a trick coin to Space Jesus' holy hands. Tails. You lose.
"Damn," He could still talk. Perfect. And this also served as a reminder that he had enough air to spare for a few more profanities.
"Still struggling?" Beckoned a voice eerily similar to his own, producing an echo that raked against his spine like the tip of an icicle.
"Not like you've been any help!" Doug shouted, hoping his anger would magically generate enough momentum for him to springboard further away from his newest...companion. Yes, the Star-the Star he was sent to study that had suddenly taken up dying itself blue and speaking in riddles-turned out to be a rather persistent annoyance.
Doug tried to work up a glare but his eyelids felt so heavy he could only manage one slow blink at a time. He may not have been dead but his mortal flesh seemed to have given up on him. His suit was discarded of a few hours earlier as he plummeted into what he could only describe as an eighty's music video special effects reel exploding. Here, he was trapped in an endless sea of blue, too stiff to even shiver at the cold the Star had eagerly embraced him in. It was all Doug could speculate before he was lulled in and out of a waking and dreaming state. It didn't hurt, per say, though it did grant him the sort of waking horror sleep paralysis gave him during his teen years.
"Humans have the most fascinating bodies," the Star said. "How did you manage to travel with all that...matter tacked on to your form? It must be so inconvenient."
"We manage," Doug said. "Not all of us have the ability to be intergalactic figure skaters."
"Pardon?"
"Look, being out here hasn't been gentle on my psyche," Doug tried to move again. Nothing.
"Christ, shouldn't I be weightless right now?"
"We were under the assumption humans needed a more stable gravitational pull to get around their environments," the Star said. "Were we mistaken?"
"Nah, you just kind of overdid it," Doug said. "Think you could lighten up the gravity just a little?"
"Of course," The Star said and adjusted the gravity, Doug finally feeling his mass decrease as he stumbled into a standing position. What he was standing on was its own mystery, though it was already a significant upgrade. Clumsily, he grabbed at the nearest object-something meant to be a table, perhaps-and managed to get on both of his feet in a few long seconds. Doug blinked a few times, finally able to process the visual of his savior/captor/impostor without his sight failing on him again.
"Now, that is much better," They said. "Sorry about that."
The Star had crafted a body almost entirely similar to Doug's. It had the same skinny legs and torso, the same arms, hands, feet-the resemblance was uncanny aside from some obvious "starry" bits it had created the form out of. The material composing the skin seemed to be delicately plucked from the prettiest part of the solar system and wrapped around it to create this sort of shimmering texture. The hair was made of...well Doug could only properly describe it as fire. Look, Doug's hairstyle has been described frequently as a "bonfire", though the Star had taken it to extremes by having a protruding white flame sway aimlessly above and around it's head. Hell, the Star even had the decency to make sure the family jewels were in mint condition.
The area Doug has been brought to followed the same principles. It was odd cross between a small home and the design of the station, a cluster of stars and dark skies forming these metallic spirals and a few smooth patches of floor. Some parts were vaguely familiar. Doug could make out what was probably meant to resemble a chair and a computer screen right above it. There was a lamp-type-thing and a microphone, probably. It was a clumsy imitation of a modern human establishment, though still solid enough for Doug to physically hold and stand on.
Everything was still so cold even with those random flickers of light embedded into the scenery. Without his suit on and what Doug could only call magic not allowing him to suffocate and freeze to death in the depths of space, his naked form was left incredibly sensitive to the atmosphere. He still had to rub at his bare arms as he clumsily tried to regain his footing.
"Where am I?"
"Oh, this is but a temporary pocket of space we've devised for your comfort. We combined a few central elements we gathered from your dreams and memories-some method of containment, we presume."
"Wait, did you guys probe me already!"
"No, no, that's not it at all," the Star assured. "Pardon the intrusion of privacy, but we did do some investigating of your unconscious state. We find the anatomy of human beings to be a fascinating topic, but not as much as the mind. We have existed for eons as purely mental beings. You seem to view us merely as a star when in reality we are far beyond such petty labels. What we truly exist as is far beyond mortal comprehension. We think and feel and live to observe any matter that comes within mere inches of our radius. We live to learn, Officer Eiffel. And we humbly ask that you teach us the art of communication."
"What?"
"Communication," the Star repeated. "The reason we confronted your vessel. The reason we've been trying to contact you for so long. Communication is an area of study we have yet to fully understand and we felt you could teach us. Hence the form we have assumed for you..."
The Star gestured to their body as they said this. Doug furrowed his brow as he asked tentatively, "But, why me?"
"It seemed appropriate," the Star replied. "We can mold into any form we desire, we can imitate any voice, we can mimic any personality if given enough time. We have merely chosen your physical appearance since...Well, it was our only point of reference to work off of. We apologize, this whole experience is very new."
"That makes two of us." Literally.
"But back to our main topic: Among multiple images we found in your brain tissue, the most recurring included a fascinating form of connection between two humanoids. Do you mind elaborating?"
"What are you talking about?"
"It would appear as though you were bonding with a few aesthetically appealing males and females of your species," The Star's brow furrowed as they said this, seeming to struggle to find the proper words. "These...partners you've bonded with have great variation in form and voice though all have found some method to physically connect with you. Touching you, so to speak."
Doug's mouth was agape as he tried to rack his brain for a response. "Y-You want to learn about sex?"
"Sex..." The Star slowly repeated. "Sex-that word is familiar. We recall that term appearing at least once in your many files. How convenient."
"Look, look, look," Doug said, his face becoming warm. "I'm no teacher, okay? I'm just some guy who tried to save my crew from your little stunt. You're the reason I'm here!"
"But your logs imply you thirst for this form of contact," The Star continued, blatantly ignoring Doug's statement. "Those on your vessel don't seem to physically stimulate you and yet the visual of this naked form has caused your heartbeat to accelerate. We can detect heat pulsing from your palms and groin. Do not deny what you are feeling, Officer Eiffel."
"Uh-" The Star rested their hand on Doug's cheek, their thumb lightly brushing against what he realized was a bruised bottom lip.
"Your visage has always grown much warmer during the course of our conversation. Does communication always impact your body heat?"
"Hey, listen!" Doug said, shoving the replica away. "I get it you're like trying to learn about human life and all that, but I need to get back to the station. I don't have time to take part in your little project."
"Time is not a factor here, Eiffel. We do not exist on a plain where time moves forwards or backwards. If you are to be released, your duration within the cosmos will not teeter in the slightest."
"And your point is?"
"Our 'point' is that neither of our time will be wasted," the Star explained. "You give us the information we want and in exchange we will safely guide you back to your vessel."
Doug cocked his head. At this point he had been through a multitude of torturous experiences. Nearly drowning, the spider, the deadly virus...He almost lost track trying to recount every last incident that put his sanity and life on the line. And now this. This instance, this event that has been delicately packaged and hand delivered to him. Why? What cruel entity was out to get him for all he's done?
"Officer, we'd like a response."
"Okay, so if I take part in your little hoity-doity human fanfare, you'll help me get back to the Hephaestus?" He couldn't believe he was actually saying it. He was practically whoring himself off for the sake of scientific endeavors. This was more of something up Hilbert's ally and even that monster had to have some dignity.
"Certainly,"
"Promise?"
"We promise," the Star said, managing a small smile at the corner of their mouth. Looking at it now, Doug could fondly remember it as the trademark Eiffel Style Smirk-worked every time on the local cute waitress and experimental college student. Damn, the effects were more deadly than he thought.
"Alright then," Doug said, swallowing as he sat down on the "floor" and spread his legs. He was surprised to see he was managing a pretty full erection at this point, the rush of blood to his member being something he never thought he'd miss this much. Let's just say the realization that he couldn't experience the joys of touching himself on the Hephestus-for his own contrived reasons-on behalf of science this and biology that wasn't well received when he first signed up for his one-way ticket to space. No staring at sexy constellations or even taking a peak at one or two dirty magazines he managed to slip on board. Nope, just staring blissfully at a wall until he was lulled into a not-so-wet dream out of sheer boredom.
The Star leered over, the contact of it's celestial skin brushing against Doug's, sending waves of hot and cold through him. The Star's temperature was a concentrated combination of the icy vastness of space and yet the inferno of the stars and Doug's body had yet to entirely process it. Doug was prepared to utter a question but the Star was eager and had settled to a seat on Doug's lap, legs encasing Doug's hips and sending trails of heat and ice into his crotch.
"We're so happy you've chosen to cooperate. We assure you, this is purely for research."
"Whatever floats your boat,"
The Star nodded and gripped their cock, thumb resting lightly against the head. "We do hope we're remembering this correctly. Tell us if we make a mistake, please."
"Okay, I think-Ohhh, fuck-!" Slowly, the Star penetrated him. Doug felt every sweet second they guided themselves inside, brushing against his ass and making him feel so incredibly full. "Oh God...Oh..."
Doug heard himself whine as he realized just how long its been. Space magic forbid he wouldn't be able to do it here, even if it was with...himself. Did this technically count as masturbation? Did this make him a huge narcissist?
Doug was in such a blissful daze, he could barely contemplate what sort of odd implications might be undercutting the situation. Doug was being gripped by his hips while his thighs brushed against a pair symmetrically similar to his own. The Star's member was twitching inside of him, their lips pursed as they stuttered, "T-This is certainly new to us, but we can already see why humans derive so much enjoyment from such a-Oh, intimate form of communication."
"It's the spice of life," Doug said. "Come on, we're just getting started."
The Star seemed to like this and lightly pecked Doug on the cheek. It felt like a firecracker full of ice cubes. "As you wish,"
Doug never thought himself to be particularly well hung though the Star's perfect replica proved be far more endowed than he would have expected. It was filling up his ass so firmly and so perfectly, thrusting in sync with the rest of his body. The Star held onto Doug's shoulders as they continued, smiling down at him as they said softly, "Y-Your facial expression implies you're pleased. We must admit this f-far more physical than we expected."
"That's the point," Doug said between heavy pants. The Star's face appeared to be flushed, creating an offset of white light along its cheeks and nose. It was much too cold for Doug to produce any actual sweat, though the heat radiating off both of them created a comforting sensation down both their bodies. Doug was particularly warm from the inside, the Star's member working up a stable rhythm in and out of his ass.
"My, you are incredibly...tight. We can feel e-every inch of you from the inside, Officer. This is so..."
"You're pretty chatty," Doug said. "Just keep this up, okay? A little faster, if you don't mind."
"Yes, of course," said the Star. "Anything for your communication."
The Star tightened their grip and began to thrust more aggressively. Doug leaned his head back, toes curling, fingers clawing at the surface and picking up bits of the atmosphere between his fingernails. The Star chuckled softly at the combination of moans and swears sputtering out of Doug's mouth, leaning down to softly kiss his throat. "Such wonderful sounds. You are positively stunning."
The Star's licked along his collarbone, the friction between his skin and their icy tongue erupting a shiver out of him. The Star spent their sweet time up and around Doug's torso-around the area where the words came out. Where Doug could breathe and talk and digest. Pampering it with their lips, squeezing and trailing their fingers down the rib cage, leaving trails of saliva down his stomach..."I need to come."
"We understand,"
The Star cupped Doug's face in their hands and for a minute they made full eye contact. Doug could see himself, his face reflected in multiple angles and colors as if he were peering through a kaleidoscope. The Star's eerily similar features didn't phase him as much as it used to. The Star felt familiar, homey and warm. The Star felt bigger and all the more beautiful and Doug wanted to bury himself inside this better, brighter version of his body over and over again. Imitation is flattery and all that.
The Star pressed their lips against his and Doug moaned into their mouth. Feeling their tongue inside him-letting them taste his teeth and cheek in little circles... "Oh fuck,"
"My, you're very eager," The Star gripped Doug's cock and gently manipulated it in their hands. Their fingers making little trails of spark against his skin and behind his eyes. Seeing stars. Ha, ha. That's a good one.
It all felt fairly egotistical in context. Like kissing your reflection and having it kiss you back. Letting a mirror touch and make love to you.
It was insane and yet it felt so right. How would he explain this to the crew? Would the Star hold up their end of the deal?
These were nagging thoughts that should have preoccupying his worries right now. His life and the only other lifeforms in his black hell hole could be in major jeopardy and yet here he was teaching a scientific phenomenon about the wonders of body language.
Body language. The Star would probably appreciate his spectacular wordplay if he could muster any other noises other than grunts and moans. Hopefully he was making a good impression of planet earth with this in-depth analysis.
The Star moved their hand in a particular way and Doug made a noise between a snort and a gasp.
"There, there," They said, running their thumb over the head. "You're doing very well."
The Star continued to stroke him, going faster as they continued to go up and down, up and down...
"Fuck, fuck-!"
At that, Doug came into the Star's hand. His back curved into the makeshift floor as he let out a loud whine of a noise, his hands clutching so hard at the starry-matter he could feel it build and break inside of his hands. Little explosions of heat and ice crackled in his palms as the Star gently pet his head through the rest of his orgasm. They watched calmly as Doug's semen painted their fingers and exposed stomach. There was a hint of a smirk as they leaned down to softly kiss the tip.
"A very strange fluid," the Star released Doug's cock and speculated their hand. "And so much..."
"I-It's been awhile...Oh God, oh man..." What the fuck did he just do? Who the fuck did he just do?
"No need to be embarrassed," The Star cooed softly, resting a hand on Doug's cheek. "This is new to all of us."
"Uh, yeah," Doug uttered. "...I-I, uh, need to lie down for a bit."
"Take your time. Thank you so very much for teaching us this new form of communication," said the Star. "We've always been curious but being able to perform these actions on such a willing subject...Well, it has been most exciting. Let us communicate more after you catch your breath, Officer Eiffel."