View Full Version : The Story of Grix -- Adult. Alien 3,400

November 9th, 2014, 05:15 AM
An alien comes to Earth, along with a different style of reproduction.
Some things, like time and distances are changed in this story to Earth-normal values. Otherwise the story would bog down in irrelevant explanations. Grix came from a far different world than our own.

Although very warm with both suns high in the sky, tall spreading Hissno trees shaded the landscape where Grix stood. In the distance, a clump of much shorter Tettsis bushes moved slowly and ponderously in their constant search for the shifting rays of the red and white orbs. Their roots raised and lowered in sequential motion as they slowly drifted toward the sunny side of the taller but unmoving Hissnos. Grix himself stood almost eight-feet tall, muscular and squat, his gravity thrice that of Earth.

Knowing he should weed his Zetto patch, having avoided the task for the last week, Grix stretched all four long slim but strong tentacles while walking on stumpy legs toward the garden.

Yawning, sharp teeth shining brightly in the sunlight, he first stopped to feed the Gukes -- small rabbit-like animals. A funny thing, Grix thought, he always seemed to put off working in the garden yet, once started, enjoyed digging in fertile green soil.

He could sense his privacy. If anyone came near, much less crossed his property line, Grix would know it.

Privacy was very important to his race. He had rarely seen another person since his birth, and most of his race were the same. A gentle shy people, each person kept to their own self-sufficient territories. They had a language and could communicate telepathically but did so rarely, preferring complete privacy.

Speaking of birth, that time was getting close. Before very many planetary cycles, Grix would be involved in the long drawn-out process. Even now, females would be forming egg sacks. It wouldn’t be long before males began storing sperm, in small globs, around the outer edges of their property lines.

Once eggs were laid and sperm deposited, Grix, as a host, would leave his home -- and his privacy -- to travel to other territories. He'd leave the bounds of his own land to pick up eggs and sperm from his neighbors. Grix would then store the best of his find in receptacles by then grown into his torso. His function, sexually, was as a living incubator. Then, with the aid of chemicals from his own body, they would grow into precious little people, eating him and the weakest among themselves in the process.

Grix knew his days were numbered, but for such a noble purpose. It felt so ... right ... to be needed. To be such a necessary part of the birthing process.

He realized that he should try to enjoy the time he had left as much as he would the birth of their worthy progeny.

After eating their way out of Grix, the surviving little people would hustle into the wild, separately. Then they would spend years moving along property lines, searching for a three-mile-square territory of their own -- one they sensed was empty, the former owner dead.

Like Grix, they -- after that Time of Separation -- would probably never lay eyes on another member of their race.

Grix used the stiff, hard but flexible, tips of his tentacles to plow his land and disinter weeds. He had no tools or technology at all. His mind was incapable of grasping the concept of tools. When he hunted on his property, he used mind tricks to get close enough to grasp game, stabbing it with the tips of his tentacles. Grix could use simple mind-control to distract the prey’s consciousness so as to appear invisible. He could also hypnotize his prey to make it incapable of movement.

For his own self-defense, he could project basic emotions such as peace or fear. With such powers, and such stupid prey, he had no need for technology.

A radar sense let Grix see and identify individuals at a distance of four miles, according to weather conditions, and to stay out of their way. He would use that sense to maintain privacy while collecting eggs and sperm for the precious children. Of course, the others would also be avoiding him.

One sun had already set when Grix noticed a visitor enter his property. It was the first time in many years. Grix could sense the intruder as a larger more elderly individual. The mere fact of being old signified a male or female. Since hosts like him died in childbirth, there were no old hosts. His radar sense showed, by its shorter thinner tentacles, that it was a female.

^Grix,^ the thought came to him. ^Grix. You’ve been chosen.^

The mental voice continued, giving him an important message. Mind flooding with instructions, Grix paused in his play with a school of Koois -- cute little globular creatures that crawled over him with their suctioning legs. It took time for him to absorb the complex orders.

^I understand. Thank You,^ he sent back, thrilled. He had been picked by the planet’s leaders to help colonize an uninhabited world. One with no "people" or intelligent life. It was an important event -- one attempted only once in hundreds of sun cycles. A great honor, and one rarely bestowed.

Grix knew that, somewhere on his planet, great thinkers spent entire lives projecting their minds into space, searching for other life and occasionally finding a suitable planet to colonize. It was a project to ensure the survival of their race. A necessary process, not for the sake of expanding any influence or for conquest but merely for survival. Only a certain number of his race could occupy the suitable land mass of any one planet.

He was proud to be accepted by those great thinkers. Once he was pregnant, every one of the relatively few teleporters on the planet would meld powerful minds to project him to that other world.


Grix landed on water. Luckily, it was on a river and close to shore. The gravity being light for him, Grix easily swam the few-hundred yards to dry land. Emerging and dripping, Grix looked around, seeing a forest of strange-looking trees. They were green rather than orange, but obviously trees.

Seeing shining eyes peering at him through bushes, he probed with his mind, seeing a simple creature that showed only curiosity. Grix couldn’t read the thoughts of animals, simply raw emotions. Only directed thought, as from another of his own race, appeared to him as a language. Simpler creatures were incapable of such projections.

Extending his radar sense to its limit, he sensed many other living and moving things, all of them much smaller than himself.

Since he wasn’t a fighter by nature, Grix was comforted by not finding any large predators. Of course he didn’t fear the smaller, weaker creatures. There weren’t any really poisonous or dangerous animals on his world; they'd been eliminated untold generations before.

Grix didn’t know how long the trip had taken, since it had seemed instantaneous to him, but he was hungry. He knew he would have to eat something, but had no idea of what was edible.

Picking leaves and pulling roots got him both a full stomach and a tummy ache. It had never occurred to him to sample one thing at a time. He lay suffering for the rest of the day and into the night before recovering enough to go on. Only meat the next time, he decided, keeping his eyes out for suitable prey.


Thirteen-year-old Tommy Collins considered himself a woodsman, just like his idol Davy Crockett. His parents recently bought him an air rifle for his birthday. With it and a hunting knife he'd bought at a garage sale, he practiced stalking deer. Of course, he had never seen a deer -- yet, anyway. But he knew that, if he snuck around the woods behind his house, he would spot one eventually. Tommy lived close to the Ohio river, on the West Virginia side.

The boy was creeping on his hands and knees in a forest behind his home, looking for deer tracks in the dirt as well as pioneer artifacts under bushes, when he heard a noise off on his right. Steering in that direction, he paused to pump his .22cal air-rifle a couple of dozen times, until he could hear excess air escaping at each pump. Tommy inserted a pellet in the chamber, closed it, and assumed what he thought of as deer hunting mode.

He wasn't afraid. Why should he be afraid so close to his home? Such niceties as being downwind from his prey or silence never entered his young mind.

“Oh, my God,” he exclaimed, fear flooding his body as he saw the most horrific sight imaginable, a huge monster eating a rabbit with blood everywhere. The thing didn’t seem to notice him as it bit the rabbit’s head off and swallowed it whole, without even chewing. The rest of the bunny went in two more bites, blood splashing as huge teeth met.

Propping his shaking gun-barrel on a low limb, Tommy aimed at the monster’s head. He pulled the trigger to send a pellet spinning, at over fifty feet a second, at the thing.

The monster took little notice, simply turning its head to peer at the boy in the bushes. With that, the apparition turned and calmly walked away, into the woods. It was out of sight in seconds.

The boy lay still for long minutes, until his heart quieted down. The memory of the creature along with the unfamiliar coppery smell of rabbit blood kept him immobile. Finally rising, he ran back toward his home.


Grix sensed two animals approaching, the smaller one much closer and faster. When it came nearer, he could see it peering out at him. He found that it looked almost like a Guke, which he knew was good eating. The other was larger, but he opted for the safest one, that at least looked familiar and might not make him sick again. He had already gotten ill once that day from not being careful.

A feeling of peace and contentment came over the rabbit. It didn’t really care, only looked at Grix in trust -- even as its head was bitten off. Jeez, these things are juicier than back home, Grix noticed. About that time he saw some sort of insect, flying right for him. Ignoring it, he felt a sting on his right shoulder.

Looking over, Grix saw the other animal pointing a tentacle at him. No matter, he had enough to eat for the moment and game seemed plentiful. He sent out a radar search for danger. Finding none, Grix started off in a random direction. He wasn’t in any hurry. It would be a long time before he had to find a place to hide -- before the little ones would grow enough to be hungry. After that, when being eaten from the inside out, his movements would be limited.

Grix sat to rest at the edge of a small clearing. Looking down, he saw a string of tiny six-legged creatures moving in formation with most carrying little bits of leaves over their heads. He had to laugh when one dropped its shred of greenery. The animal struggled to get the shard back up, but the object was an awkward shape and hard to handle. The ant stopped, walked around it and tried from different angles to raise its former burden.

Reaching over carefully with two sharp-pointed tentacle tips, Grix picked the leaf bit up and held it over the ant. He could see it look up at him, and swear it smiled before getting under its burden, now released, and quickly walking to rejoin its companions.

Tired, Grix drifted off to sleep. He knew his radar sense would wake him if any large animals came close.


“Pa! Pa! There’s a monster in the woods, Pa. I saw it. Come out and look. Bring your gun, hurry up, a MONSTER, Pa, hurry up and shoot it, the MONSTER, a big one, ugly. It’s gonna kill someone, Pa. Help. Shoot it. Hurry up, Pa. Do you hear me? Get your gun. Hurry, Pa,” Tommy screamed as he slammed his way into the house. “Pa. Pa. There’s a monster in the woods, Pa, I saw it, come out and look, bring your gun, hurry up, a MONSTER, Pa, hurry up and shoot it, the monster, a big one, ugly one.”

“Stop all that yelling.” His mother grabbed him by the shoulder as he ran through the kitchen. “You know old man Jenson’ll call the cops. He came out here to get away from noise in the city, and he has the right to quiet.”

“Ma. I saw it. I even shot it with my gun.” Tommy was flushed and panting with excitement.

“What the hell’s going on out there?” His father stood in the doorway, smoking a pipe.

“A monster. A big ugly monster. I saw it eat a rabbit in three bites -- that big. Get your gun and shoot it before it kills somebody.”

“Take it easy, son.” His mother hugged him from behind, feeling him shake. “If we see it again we’ll call the police.”

“Ma, I’m serious, real serious. I actually saw it out there. It must be twenty feet tall, with those big long things waving around. A huge mouth full of teeth. It bit a rabbit in half like it was nothing.

“Now, that’s enough, young man.” His father was looking back to the living room. “My show’s coming on TV in a minute, and nobody’s going to go tramping in those woods after dark. I’d just fall on my ass.”


“End of subject, Tommy. Now go back outside and play.” His father went in to watch television.


“You sure your father won’t mind?” Tommy asked his friend, Freddy. “If we use his guns, that is?”

“Na. He takes me out to hunt with him. He said I could target practice against that hill back of my house,” Freddy told him. “Just as long as I pay for the ammunition and follow the safety rules.”

“Don’t worry about ammunition, Freddy,” Tommy told him, hefting a .22cal semi-automatic rifle he'd taken out of his father's closet. “After we bag that thing, nobody will even notice.”

“Yeah, and we’re gonna be heroes, too.” Freddy looked around. He had his family’s 30-30 rifle. “Where're the other guys at? We told them to hurry.” He worked the lever, expertly catching an ejected cartridge in his other hand.

Tommy tried the same thing with the slide on his smaller rifle, losing the small cartridge in fallen leaves and dimming sunlight. It would be dark soon. They had to hurry. The thing might be far away by morning.

“Here comes Jerry, and I see Pete lugging that big double-barreled shotgun of his dad’s.” Freddy laughed at the sight. “How’s he ever going to carry that cannon through the woods, much less shoot any monsters?”

“Come on,” Tommy yelled, waving his hands for them to hurry. Jerry had another shotgun, a semi-automatic 16-gauge. He also had an orange jacket on, the pockets stuffed with shells for his shotgun.

“Let's go.” Tommy took the lead. They hurried back to the clearing where Grix had caught the rabbit. There was still enough sunlight to see their way.


“Uh, gggaa.” Pete ran for a stand of thick bushes, dropping the huge shotgun in his haste. All that rabbit blood on the ground made him sick. The rest of them thought it was funny. When Pete came back out, Jerry, a comic, dipped his finger in the blood. Smiling at Pete, he pretended to lick his finger.

“Guuuuaaaa.” Pete tried to throw up again, his hacking attempt keeping the others in stitches. They resumed the search. Tommy knew enough to follow a clear trail.

“There. See it?" Tommy whispered. They were staring past him at the supine Grix. Even as they looked, Grix opened his eyes and looked back.

He didn’t move -- simply looked back at them. To Grix, they were only small animals, nothing to worry about. No intelligent specie would go around in packs. If they attacked, he could easily stop the little things. He couldn't even see any claws or teeth to worry about. No need for defenses.

Grix watched, curious, as the creatures raised tentacles and pointed them at him.

Fire spurted and Grix felt pain. Horrible pain. It was worse than the time a tree had fallen on him in his sleep. It hurt terribly.

“Reload and get the sucker,” Tommy yelled, pumping so hard he jammed his weapon. Pete had dropped his huge firearm and was turning to run, when a sense of fear hit all of them. Freddy missed with his last shot and held an empty rifle. He was too frightened to reload, 30-30 cartridges falling through shaking fingers as he saw the monster coming toward them.

Grix, feeling unsteady and confused with pain, jumped easily to his feet in the light gravity, reaching the children in three quick strides. One of his tentacles grabbed Tommy, bringing the child to his mouth and biting the boy's head off like he had the rabbit’s.

Freddy tried to dodge, but the sharp tip of a tentacle caught him in the back, piercing his heart. Before he died, Jerry fired the final two rounds of his shotgun into Grix’s chest.

Grix’s last thought was fear for his precious children, even as he dropped heavily onto Tommy’s headless torso.


The sight of Freddy, covered with blood and crying incoherently, prompted adults to return with him. They found Tommy had been telling the truth.

Grix’s body was sent to the local morgue with the others, since nobody knew what else to do with it. Later, on orders of the Federal Government, it stayed there, refrigerated, for weeks and was finally picked up by a Federal agency.

Through that agency’s influence and efforts, nothing about poor Grix was published in the newspapers. Instead, the news-media reported a serious hunting accident that killed three children.


It was quiet, except for the tapping of hard heels sounding and resounding in a cacophony of spaced clicks as Special Agent Alfred Simmons walked the basement corridors of the Federal Morgue in Washington DC. It seemed like miles of empty hallways, most flanked by imitation-granite walls, doors spaced at irregular intervals.

He stopped at a door. “Special Project Trojan” had been crudely lettered on the front with a worn-out black stencil. Simmons punched a code into a digital lock, swinging the heavy door inward. It was two o'clock in the morning as he entered.

After looking around briefly, Alfred left the door open. It was cold in there, and he didn’t figure a few minutes and a few heightened degrees would matter to a dead alien.

As he pulled a drawer out of the wall, the top of Grix’s head came into view. Simmons thought he heard a rustling coming from the drawer but figured it was only his own reaction to the sight of an alien corpse. A strange musky odor, something like cinnamon, came from inside.

While pulling the drawer open a little farther, something jumped for his face. Jerking back in sudden fear, the Special Agent fell backwards onto the floor. The thickly-greased drawer continued its slide, dropping next to SA Simmons, almost hitting his head during its fall.

By the time the drawer hit the floor, Alfred was covered with little people, small copies of Grix. Each hungry infant buried at least one tentacle and many sharp teeth into his quivering form. The agent was far too gone to notice that the only parts left of Grix’s body were a head and skeleton.

The children were still hungry when they finished with Simmons. Instinct for survival and to disperse taking over, the little people scurried out the open door and into silent corridors before dispersing in all directions. Most were caught, still hiding in the building -- but not all. Not even close to all.

The End?

November 23rd, 2014, 12:26 AM
I liked this story. It was certainly unusual, but that's what made it good. I found it satirical, humorous, and creative all at the same time. The way that you were able to take something like sexuality which is such a hot-topic in our society and use it in a creative and humorous way was very creative, and interesting as well. This story has a sense of childlike innocence--something you'd read in a kid's book--and yet, the theme is technically mature. It's a creative way to juxtapose two opposite ends of the spectrum together.

November 23rd, 2014, 10:37 PM
Thanks, JamesR. This story was inspired by a thread here about alternate sexual practices by aliens. I consider Grix, as a carrier, unusual by Earth standards.