First Contact While Picking Mushrooms – Flash Fiction

Warning Adult Content

I don’t care how advanced a civilization is, when your Kershulclump carks it you’re buggered. Apparently, subsection seven of the intergalactic prime directive prohibits direct contact with backward, indigenous, sentient species. Subsection five prohibits sexual contact with all species. The alien didn’t seem to be bothered and frankly I was too high to care. Somehow we established that we were both male. That didn’t seem to worry him either. Me; I have probably fucked stranger looking things in the darkroom at the sauna without ever knowing. It took a while to work out which bits fitted where, but we were soon going at it like a pair of inept virginal teenagers. We took turns to top and inoculated each other. Thoughts of interspecies safe sex never crossed my mind as I accepted both of his phalli.

Now, I have heard about postcoital depression and have suffered it myself on occasion when I’ve sobered up and realised who I’ve done, but this alien took it to extremes. This was planned to be a last fuck before self-destruction. And I thought he’d chosen me for my personality. I felt so used. He got off on breaking all the rules.

Through the diminishing haze, it dawned on me. How could I know that? The alien DNA was doing strange things to me.

“I know how to fix your Kershulclump.” My voice that sounded like a Klingon with a sore throat. “You can go home and forget this ever happened.”

He seemed to brighten up at that.

I hauled my sixty-year-old ass out of his pod and waved as he disappeared. I felt like I was 18 again. When I got home and looked at myself, naked, in the mirror I looked like I was 18. Except that I now dress both ways.