The Hands of S.A.M.

He wondered if he'd ejaculate or die first.

Stan had never thought of himself as someone who would schedule massages on a regular basis, but his chiropractor said it would help both his back and his stress. He couldn't stop thinking about how his nude body would look to a complete stranger. He would be bare-assed to a woman who touched bare asses all day, and he hadn't been with a woman in almost six months. He couldn't stop wondering what would she think of his naked body, or how he would react to a woman's hands all over him.

What if I get an erection? Will she scream? Run? Suck me off?

Samantha's arrival didn't make this last series of questions any easier. She was a perfect hourglass shape with beautiful breasts and appeared fresh out of massage therapy school. Her skin looked smooth from body butter treatments, and her cute hair was in two short pigtails. One nostril was pierced with a small, thin ring, and her low-cut yoga pants and high-cut belly shirt showed off a smooth tummy and sunburst tattoo on her lower back.

"Have you had a massage before?" She asked.

"Never," he said, catching himself gawking at her. "Is it obvious?"

She smiled. "It's all right." She handed him a sleep mask that smelled of lavender, and then patted the massage table's headrest. "Put that on and then put your face here. I'll put a sheet over you so you won't get cold. Just breathe deep and let me know if I'm too hard on you."

He was half-asleep before she was done with his legs. He had no time to become aroused. The rhythmic rubbing of her hands dropped him further and further into a hazy slumber. He imagined his body was a mass of clay that she was shaping to her liking. He dreamed of warmth and the ocean, of jellyfish and undulating sea anemones. The aromatherapy mask was cool on his eyes and plunged him into a void where only his breath and sound of her oiled hands on his flesh were audible.

The brush of her belly on the top of his head pulled him back to semi-consciousness. Her fingers tickle-rubbed up his spine. There were moments when her arm bones rolled over him like iron rods, but then were as subtle as a tennis ball rolled over his back. Her belly pushed into his head as she leaned over to push into the top of his buttocks. He imagined he could lick her navel if he raised his head. He barely heard her speak.

"Turn over."

The command took moments to register, and he found his body rolling without any commands from his own brain. The cooler air on his hard cock made him stop at a quarter-turn. He stammered for words.

"I can't turn over right now."

"Is something wrong?" She asked.

"I'm fine," he said. "A little too fine, actually."

She took him by the shoulders and rolled him onto his back.

"I see," she said. He couldn't tell if she was annoyed or excited. "Just relax."

She continued the massage on his arms. The embarrassment of her seeing his erection pushing up the sheet made him sweat, and his erection wouldn't drop. She rubbed his fingers, causing them and his cock to twitch. His cock throbbed when she reached his thigh. Her fingers pressed, rubbed, pinched, and squeezed him in ways that pushed him back and forth between deep sleep and orgasm.

He knew she was watching him shudder and ball up the bottom sheet in his fists. He was tempted to lift the lavender mask and watch her watch him, but he wanted to be in her power. He wanted no control over what she had in store for him.

She finished at his head and face. He again felt her warm belly pressing into the top of his head. He wondered if, had he not been wearing the mask, he could see up her shirt. He wondered, as her hands slid down his chest, how close her breasts were to his face. He imagined her athletic body sliding onto the table, surprising him with her nakedness.

He heard her move away from him, her sandaled feet making shuffling sounds on the carpet. She was beside him now. Her thigh brushed his shoulder. She peeled the sheet back.

He was exposed, his cock rigid against his belly. His breath locked in his lungs. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. He was either going to have a happy ending or be banned from the spa's appointment list.

Her fingers wrapped around his balls. They felt like five miniature tongues lashing around him. One tickled him behind his sack as another dragged up the shaft of his cock.

The orgasm burst from him in four hard shots. He hands slapped down and his back arched from the table. Hit hot come splashed onto his chest and throat. The hardest part was not screaming in pleasure. He was glad he'd remembered to keep quiet.

Her oiled hands lathered his cock with oil and come, squeezing every drop from him before she rubbed her sticky hands up over his stomach and chest.

"Interesting," she said.

He laughed. "To say the least."

"We're done," she said. "I'll leave you to dress and shower, if you'd like."

He heard the door click. He sat up, removed the mask, and then jacked off to another hard orgasm. He didn't see her on the way out. No police were waiting for him. He left her a twenty-dollar tip.

It took him a month to work up the nerve to schedule another appointment with her. He was surprised to find she had an opening, and wondered if his happy ending was a single occurrence. He figured her schedule would be booked solid for months if she treated everyone the same.

He was more nervous than before. He couldn't stop shifting, and he wrestled with the idea of jacking off before she came in, even though he'd already done it twice before driving to the spa and once in the parking lot.

He slid between the sheets as she came into the room. She smiled and said hello. She showed no embarrassment.

"How are you today?" She asked, almost showing no recollection of what had happened last time.

"Fine. Listen, about last time. I don't want you to think I came here expecting the same thing. I mean, I'm fine if it was a one-time thing. It was a wonderful massage even without the happy ending. I mean, I'd love another, don't get me wrong. I don't want you to think I didn't enjoy that part, because I certainly did. Heck, it's probably obvious that I did, isn't it?"

She smiled a Mona Lisa smile and then handed him the lavender mask. He put it on and turned over.

Her hands were more slippery than the last time. They were all over him, pulling out the unnoticed stress in his shoulders and dropping him into that wonderful sleep. He dreamed he was in a harem, with the lovely hands of six ladies pulling at him and working only for his pleasure. He didn't realize he had rolled over until her mouth was on him.

He had never felt anything like it before. Her fingers smeared hot oil over his balls while her mouth seemed to undulate on his cock. Her other hand rubbed his nipple, and he thought she was wearing some sort of bumpy massage glove. He came long and strong. She swallowed it all. He fell asleep, and did not hear her leave. He awoke to find a small Post-It note left on the inside of the door.

"Thank you for the interesting experience."

Two weeks later, he was back between the sheets of the massage table and wearing the lavender mask. He chose to say nothing, even though he wanted to ask her to dinner or if they should stop this for fear of being discovered by the staff. Part of him wanted to ask if she only did this with him, but he chose not to risk the shattering of a great illusion.

She came in, said hello, and then yanked the top sheet off him. A chill ran over his body, but her warm hands and the warm oil rushed blood back to his skin. Her powerful arms sent him into his trance, where he was in an Indian temple with a bejeweled princess dragging a peacock's plume over his back. He floated onto his back and was soon smiling and chuckling as his deep breaths escaped him. Her hands and her tongue were everywhere. They rubbed his belly and licked his nipples. They slithered down his legs like many-headed snakes. They jacked him into her amazing mouth, her tongue seeming to coil around him multiple times.

"You are out of this world," he said.

There was a crash. A bottle broke on the floor, and her hands and mouth jerked away from him. He sat up, pulling off the mask.

"Are you all right?" He asked, and then froze in place.

She, or at least a resemblance of she, stood at the end of the table. She was not human. She was indeed something out of this world. Her torso and head were as he had known, but her arms and everything below her waist were an undulating gel, a sea anemone mass of sparkling tentacles and feeler pods. Her arms were two long tentacles that ended in jellyfish-like hands of numerous digits of different lengths, thickness, and textures. Her facial features had softened, making her resemble a human-like plastic doll form. Her sky blue eyes were extra wide with shock. A broken bottle of massage oil was at her tentacles on the floor.

He now knew why her massage technique was magical. She practiced methods from beyond Earth. He had learned her secret, and now he wondered if he was going to die with a raging hard-on.

She molded her body back to its human shape quicker than it took him to blink three times. She peeked out the door, re-locked it, and then took a deep breath. He wondered if she even needed to breathe, or if it was an action to comfort him before she struck.

"I am sorry you saw me like that."

"Who are you?" He figured he might as well learn who was going to kill him. "What are you?'

"We are shape shifters."

"We?"

"There are hundreds of us. We are from another dimension. We are here to study this plane of reality."

He smiled, trying to take his mind, and hers, off his impending death. "Not conquer us and make us your slaves?"

One of her eyebrows rose. It should have been a simple human gesture, but on her it was anything but human.

"Why would we want to do that?"

He opted not to discuss the history of science fiction films. "What are you studying here?"

"I am studying the anatomy, physiology, and sensory responses of your species. Your reactions to my stimuli have been intriguing. You derive please from them and emit fluid. Why is this?"

"A combination of things," he said. "Part of it is that I haven't been with a woman in a long time. The other is that your...hands?"

She flexed one hand, examining it.

"If you wish. It is more of a malleable tendril."

"Your...tendrils feel wonderful."

"You say you have not been with a woman in a long time. Do you not keep company with females?"

"No. Yes. I mean, I know women. I hang out with some."

"Hang out?" Her alien eyebrow arch returned. "Hang out what?"

"Nothing. I keep company with women, yes. I meant that I haven't had sex with a woman in a long time."

"You do not wish to reproduce," she said, and then her head tilted like a robot's, slow and deliberate. She appeared to be thinking over her realization. It was another human gesture rendered alien. "You do not wish to add to this reality's overpopulation. It is a noble gesture."

"No. I mean I haven't had sex for pleasure in a long time."

"Sex for pleasure." She mused this over for a moment. "Is this done often?"

"It's how it's done every time, if you're doing it right, if you're trying to reproduce or not."

"Do females have sex for pleasure?"

"Certainly."

"Do they emit fluid?"

"Yes," he said after thinking about it and trying not to laugh. "Some more than others."

Her eyes went blank. He thought she had frozen in place and that he may be able to sneak away, but dismissed the thought when he couldn't think of a way to sneak out without alerting her.

She snapped out of it. Light returned to her eyes and she moved forward with purpose. He slid back on the table.

"You will teach me," she said.

"What?" He asked, confused.

"Pleasure. You will teach me the ways of female pleasure."

"What?" He asked, dumbstruck.

"Pleasure," she said, louder now. "You will teach me – "

He held up his hands. "No, no. I meant, what are you talking about?"

"You have learned of our existence. The best option is to have you help me with my studies of your species. We have decided that you will help me learn how your females experience pleasure."

" 'We' decided?" He asked. "Who's we?"

"My people. I traveled back to our reality and spoke with the others. We agreed this was the best option."

"You traveled?" He wondered if he had lost his mind. "I didn't see you leave."

"The shift to our reality and back takes less than a second. We have mastered non-linear time."

"You said this was the best option." He swallowed. "What were the others?'

"Other," she said. "Your death."

"Thanks for choosing option number one."

"Your death was option number one," she said. He emitted a weak laugh. "Shall we begin?"

"How?"

"Show me another way in which you gain sexual pleasure."

He groped for words, his mouth bobbing open and his head shaking in confusion. He had a buffet before him and didn't know what to choose.

He blurted out. "Your tits."

"My what?"

"Breasts. Sorry."

She looked down at them. The belly shirt melted into her gelatinous body, revealing her ample yet perky breasts and making him realize her clothes were another aspect of her shape shifting body.

"These bring you pleasure?" She asked. "How? By viewing them?"

"Yes, certainly," he said, "but I'd much rather touch and suck on them and put my..." He glanced down. "...cock between them."

"Which should be done first?"

He laughed. "I wish I could do all of them at once."

Before he could cry out, her torso stretched forward like an uncoiling snake. She remained standing at the foot of the table, her body now twice its normal height. Her extended torso pushed her breasts into his face. His initial shock lasted only a moment. He kissed, licked, and sucked. They were warm and silky on his face and in his hands. He bit her sweet nipples and licked the smooth bone between her breasts.

His mouth popped off her sternum in surprise as she watched a third breast grow from there without a sound. The others shifted like floats in water to accommodate the new one. They shrunk just a bit so all three were proportionate. He stared at them, almost afraid to touch them.

"Does this bring you pleasure?" She asked.

He dove back into them, biting and sucking the middle nipple as he squeezed the other breasts. He felt warmth on his cock. He looked down her extra long torso. She had grown two more breasts from near her extended waist. They smothered his cock, pulsating around it and moving up and down like two invisible hands bounced them.

He bit, licked, squeezed, sucked, and fucked all five of her tits. The one in his mouth was slippery with spit. The ones in his hands were perfect fits. The ones around his cock squeezed and pulsed on him, jacking his cock until he was coming in hot bursts over her elongated belly and chest. He squeezed the breasts in his hands so hard he thought she would cry out, but she only stared down into his eyes with a strange curiosity.

She slid back once he stopped shivering. The breast in the middle of her chest and the two near her waist melted back into her body. She wiped some of his come from her flat tummy and examined it.

"Interesting," she said.

"Is that all?" He smiled, watching his come absorb into her jelly flesh. "You didn't enjoy it?"

"I cannot feel as you feel, as your species' nervous system is different than ours."

"Then how can I teach you about pleasure if you can't feel it?"

"I must study the nervous system of your species in order to replicate it. Can you help me attain the body of a newly deceased female?"

His mouth hung open for a moment. "I doubt it. How about we find a medical library instead?"

"That may suffice," she said. "I should also observe females having sex for pleasure and participate in stimulating them."

"You mean you want to have sex with women? As a woman?"

She was puzzled. The change in her normal blank face almost unnerved him. "Females attain sexual pleasure with other females?"

He laughed. "Not all of them." He began to dress. "And some males have sex with males."

"But this allows for no reproduction of your species."

"They don't seem to mind, and some have sex with both genders."

"Do you do this?"

"No. It's...not in my chemistry."

"Interesting," she said. Her shirt morphed out of her body. "Take me to this medical library."

"Now? Don't you have more clients?"

"Yes." She now seemed embarrassed, a weird half-smile making one corner of her mouth twitch. "Meet me here in three hours. You must also make living arrangements for me at your domicile."

He dropped his watch. "You're going to live with me?"

"If you are going to teach me pleasure, it will be easiest if I am there. We will be able to pleasure each other much more and in many ways."

He left right away to buy new sheets.