Free Outcast by Alex Douglas Page A

from a match and the sound of a jar slipping onto a table. The light from the candle was dim, but it hurt Prez's eyes. Or the one eye that was opened fully; his left eyelid was swollen, and now that the numbing afterglow of his orgasms had died down his lip was starting to sing with pain. He rolled onto his side and looked at the bruises blooming on his ribs, his knees. The mess on the bed, spatters of sperm, smears of blood. His ass was stinging and he scratched his head and turned to look at this female like no other who had, remarkably, given him exactly what he wanted .
    She was pale skinned, her hard body covered in ropes of muscle with thick thighs and a substantial cock and balls resting in a thick black bush of hair. Softening, the penis still looked larger than what he'd felt. No breasts. Only her hair was particularly feminine, a long mass of shiny black curls, some of which were plastered to her face and neck with sweat. Catching his eye, she smiled, revealing blunt teeth a bit like his own.
    "What are you?" Prez asked, when he could talk again. "And how do you know my language?"
    "Let us say I am a Traveller," she said. "You are unlikely to encounter another of my kind. We are long lived, and I have come a great distance. And I have been to your world, many years ago."
    "What, Akilia?"
    "No," she said. "The other. Your... home ."
    He stared at her, open-mouthed. There was a banging on the door. "Time's up," the receptionist shouted. "Cleaner's coming in one minute, and another client is waiting."
    So many things he wanted to ask, but no time. He looked at her penis. "You're a female...how?"
    "You define female as one who produces eggs. Eggs are what I produce." She let out a chuckle that sounded like rocks grinding together. "You would not enjoy the males of my species."
    Her ejaculate was starting to trickle out of his stinging ass and onto the sheet. Then he realized he had no clothes to wear. Scraps of his uniform lay around the floor. There was no point being embarrassed. "Sorry about the mess," he said and stood up. His knee was sore and his ribs and face ached.
    "Everyone makes a mess." She chuckled and moved across the bed, wrapped the messy sheet around Prez's shoulders, and ruffled his hair as if he was a child. Then she opened the door with a remote control gadget that sat on the bedside table. In the dim light, Prez saw other substances spattered on the walls, but he didn't want to know what they were. The Traveller was looking at him with suddenly sorrowful eyes, and it felt as if she was staring right into his soul.
    "There are many like you on the blue planet, little man," she said. "You are not as alone as you think."
    The cleaner bustled in with a new set of sheets, not even looking at Prez as she picked up the tatters of his uniform and yanked the bedclothes off into a plastic bag, all the time grumbling about so much laundry . He considered the female's words for a moment. "Thank you," he said and limped back to reception, where the Belaari glanced up at him and pointed to a heap of folded robes in the corner.
    "I forgot to mention that you should remove your clothes," she said. "Choose whatever you like from that pile."
    He picked a soft summer robe that wouldn't scratch too much against his prickling skin, the ghost of the Traveller's bites still nipping at his chest and ear. Just as he turned to leave there was a commotion outside the door, the sound of shouting and grunting and thumping, then the door swing open and Lan strode in. Behind him, the bouncers were on their knees, clutching their stomachs and groaning.
    "You!" Prez exclaimed, hugging the robe around his body with a sudden rush of shame.
    Lan looked at him. His expression darkened for a moment, then his features settled once more into the indifferent mask he always seemed to wear. "Yes. I -- we -- were..." he searched for the word. "Concerned."
    "Don't be." Prez licked at the cut on his swollen lip. "I can take care of