Day 1
I’m exhausted. My tummy’s ready to burst. My jaw is sore. My nipples and lips are chaffed...
I should start by saying a day on Romia is around 60 hours on Earth, so you know I’m not just complaining because I’m homesick. Tomorrow is my first day of school as the first intergalactic exchange student in human history and today was spent greeting hundreds of aliens leaders and dignitaries who had never seen an Earth girl in the flesh before. I shouldn’t call them aliens. I’m the alien in this case.
Greeting a single Romian takes at least half an hour. I don’t know how they ever get anything done. Then again, I’ve never seen Romians greet each other like this. Maybe the finger-sucking welcome is reserved for off-world visitors. They have ten fingers like us, and you have to suck on each one in turn until they secrete a mouthful of nourishing salty goo from a hole at the fingertip. It was embarrassing at first, because, on Earth, we never put each other’s body parts in our mouths unless we know the other person really well. But who knows if refusing would offend them and start a galactic war. To them, it’s nothing sexual; I’m probably as physically repulsive to their specie as they are to mine. No offense meant; they don’t know that they look a bit like the Pale Man from Pan’s Labyrinth.
Their fingers are wet and translucent. And thick! At least as thick as mini soda cans and as long as a stack of three of them. I can barely get my mouth around the middle finger and you’re expected to push as much of it as you can down your throat as a sign of respect. I know it’s just a biological coincidence, but the whole process would be easier for me if their fingers weren’t
shaped almost identically like a human male’s veiny penis. A giant-sized version anyway.
After the long and filling finger-sucking session, they return the favor. But since I don’t have holes at the end of my fingers, they go for the nipples. I know, it’s completely inappropriate with an Earthling mindset, but when in Romia...
The white swimsuit with matching gloves they gave me the day I left Earth made me feel like a sexy 70s space explorer, but now that I know it is designed for easy access to my breasts, I feel more like a space prostitute. They suck on them so roughly and for so long, I wonder if it’s their way of telling me I should be more energetic with the finger-sucking.
Anyway, the days are long but the nights are short, so I need to get a little bit of sleep before my first class. It’s human anatomy, so that should be easy, at least.
Day 2
I want to go home. I feel so... violated. It’s not the Romians’ fault; they don’t understand how fragile humans bodies are and how protective we are of our orifices.
I walked into the classroom and the teacher presented his fingers. I don’t know why I thought I was done with greetings. I unzipped my suit to let my breasts bounce as I sucked, as is their custom, stretched my mouth around the pinkie, bobbed up and down, slurping as much of the digit as
my tongue could reach until it discharged a few squirts against the roof of my mouth. I swallowed politely, then did the same with all the other fingers and all the fingers of my classmates. A line formed to suck and masticate my nipples when I was working on the last one. I had a big, saliva-dripping mouth on each breast and it still took hours to get through everyone. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the Romian greeting. They will need to understand someday that it feels demeaning to Earth women.
The lesson was all in Romian even though I was told the teachers knew rudimentary English. The only reason I knew they were talking about human nutrition was because of all the pictures of hamburgers and pies that came up on the screen. I was too full of greeting milk to find any of them appetizing. In the middle of the lesson, a few English words took me by surprise and I realized the teacher was talking to me. “Enter and exit connected. True or False?” He was pointing at his mouth. That’s how I understood he was talking about the digestive system being one long passage.
“Technically yes... True.” I nodded to make sure I was understood. “Amazing. How long? Number.”
“I don’t know exactly... Very long,” was my answer, and I zigzagged a finger across my abdomen.
“Amazing. We measure.”
“I don’t see how you...” but then my mouth froze. I couldn’t finish my sentence. I hate when they take over my body like that with telekinesis or brain wave remote control or whatever, especially without asking. It’s one thing to use it to guide me to through their maze of a school, but forcing me to strip in the front of the class then bend me over a glass desk crosses a universal line in my opinion.
Their fingers extend. I didn’t know that. I wish I never knew that. The tip of a finger (I’m so familiar with their shapes by now that I can tell you it was the index) circled my anus while the thumb and middle finger spread the cheeks of my pale butt, coating the apprehensive rim with their wetness. It really sucks to be completely aware of what is happening to you but unable to show the slightest resistance or even say no.
When the teacher thought my butt was ready (as if it could ever be ready for something like this), he plunged inside like a burrowing worm. I felt every inch of that long, reverse trek through my digestive system. I felt him struggle to expand the entrance of my small intestine, to round difficult curves, to penetrate sphincters that weren’t used to things coming from that side. Every time he would tell me “Amazing,” as if this was a fun learning experience for both of us.
I refused to believe the human body allowed a foreign object, especially one so thick, to go all the way through. That was until the glossy fingertip popped out of my throat, ejaculating... well not ejaculating but, you know, finger-discharging a whole cup of salty yolk.
“Amazing. Both ways?” He gave me back the use of my body but changed his mind when I started thrashing with bottled-up pain, humiliation, and anger. I don’t know what I would have said if a large tentacle finger wasn’t plugging my throat and squirming around in my mouth, squirting greeting juice on my tongue every few seconds.
My mouth almost ripped at the edges when the index of his other hand squeezed by the other one with my already-stretched anus as its destination. I know I need to document everything about my year on Romia, but I’m tempted to erase this passage and pretend it never happened.
I’m told it’s human anatomy again tomorrow. Am I not supposed to be learning about them instead of the other way around?
Day 3
It’s hard to type; I’m shaking so much. Today was even worse. I’m like a science experiment to these people. No, a plaything. They could have just asked me about human mating. I’ve never done it before but I could have told them the video they showed the class was all wrong.
From the first few frames, I knew this was pornography. The very bad kind from the dark corners of the internet. It was absolutely vile. The girl was obviously drugged, and the man was alternating his hands inside her lady parts while she moaned like an animal over the vaginal farts of the lubricated palms. The Romians must have looked through hundreds of videos that were supposed to depict human mating but latched onto that one because the male used body parts they could relate to.
I was torn apart between saying something and trying not to draw attention to myself in case the teacher decided to do some more measuring. Well, I didn’t say anything, but I was torn apart anyway.
“Human mating amazing. You show us.”
“Human mating is private,” I blurted out quickly while my mouth could still move.”
“Romian and human are friends,” he said with a smile literally from ear to ear.
“Yes but...” and that was it. I was remotely controlled to take my clothes off again and set myself in the same position as the poor woman in the video, ankles behind the head, legs bent much farther than they ever stretched before.
It wasn’t fair. I was younger, smaller, and my lady parts had a lot less mileage than the woman in the video, yet Romians hands with their five long and thick dick-fingers make much bigger hands than anyone on Earth. Yes, I called them dick-fingers; I’m tired of pretending they are not dicks. Their fingers are dicks, and I must have drunk gallons of their cum since I landed on this god-forsaken planet. I pieced it together when I noticed the teacher’s fingers gushed way more than usual during
“simulated” mating.
Losing my virginity went unnoticed as the first digit split open my vagina. When it pulled out, I felt a rush of cold air in my gaped hole, but that only lasted a second: the finger came back and brought a friend. New fingers were added to the mix at an exponential rate. It’s easy to stretch out a birth canal when you don’t think its owner minds at all.
Ten finger-cocks crowned the opening of my pussy and the cocks of each hand took turns finger-punching my cervix while my uterus collected a barrel’s worth of alien DNA. The mind control must prevent the host from passing out, otherwise I’m sure I would have spent some of the forty
hours of fisting unconscious.
Tomorrow there’s a quiz on human anatomy. Watch me, a human, fail the test because of their warped views on digestion and reproduction.
Day 4
I didn’t fail the test. I was the test. I was relieved for a moment when the teacher waved the finger-dick sucking for today but that was to give his students more time to run their fingers through my digestive system and pummel my reproductive organs with their fists.
Now that everyone had a chance to break me in a thousand different ways, I wish I could say the life of this intergalactic exchange student would go back to normal, but my teacher is taking me to another school tomorrow. He didn’t say why but I suspect it is to demonstrate his findings and I will spend a whole Romian year as a traveling freak show.
If I have the chance, I’d like to visit again next year. Only this time, I’ll try to catch every disease on Earth before I leave so I can to hopefully do the universe a favor and wipe out the entire Romian population off the space map.
