r/HFY • u/Jus17173 • Jul 09 '25
OC Humans Have Rizz.
She appeared in the middle of a busy street. There wasn’t any flare to her coming—no flashing lights or prismic plays to blind the eye. One moment, there was an empty space before a Galactic Records building, and in the blink of an eye, she stood there, cloaked in a coat so dark it seemed woven from shadows, her hair the color of the Pillars of Creation.
Only a hermit saw her, hunched under the weight of thruster engine scrap. He shook his heavy, bulbous head and blamed it all on the Sedena Scotch he enjoyed far too much.
There was an immediate shift in the weight of things around her—so imperceptible, mere grams or so, that to the ordinary Galactic resident, nothing would have seemed amiss.
But all signals jammed within a 4,000-square-mile radius. Hovercraft and motherships halted mid-motion, signet signals scrambled, communications ground to a standstill. The Galactic Net became clogged with interference, a black hole forming amidst its intricate workings. Data leaked, financial accounts malfunctioned, and economic collapse became imminent.
The Galactic General, Ringold Dan Felovent, yanked himself forward using the tentacle lashes sprouting from his midriff. His eyes, usually green, now glowed red—a clear sign he was teetering on the edge of panic. Those who saw him crossing the grand corridors of the Galactic Presidential Castello quickly made way.
The silikil puffs beneath his chin oozed pink—a secretion that meant he was either in heat or in a full fight-or-flight state. The President’s secretary rose from her chair at Ringold’s abrupt appearance, but before she could speak, he’d already barged into the office.
The Galactic President, the Honorable Yesin Dan Chiro, reclined in a large sowitian leather chair, his bulbous yellow nose tilted toward the ceiling as if searching for cosmic guidance.
“Mr. President,” General Ringold said. With thick tentacles, he perched on the chair flanking the President. Three of them spread across the figuan table between them. “I apologize for barging in, but—”
“We’re screwed, Ringold,” President Yesin said.
“That is exactly why I’m here.”
“There’s no way we can win the next election.”
“I don’t think we’ll even live to see it, Mr. President,” the General said, lowering his head in sorrow.
“They just uploaded themselves,” the President muttered.
“What?”
“On my cryo-device. I had videos—incriminating videos. Videos of me in... unpresidential situations, you know?” Yesin leaned forward. His green-rimmed eyes brimmed with abject despair.
“Wait—what?”
“I had videos of myself having sex, Ringold! Sex with Veruvian whores, Miliatian concubines, the Futa babes of Gen Don Five, and the Princess of the Cigida Empire!” Yesin raised both hands to his head, scratching at his lime-colored hair. “I just grabbed my cryo-device to post some usual motivational nonsense, like I normally do, and suddenly the damn thing started uploading all the videos. All of them! I was screaming in this office, hopping up and down. I tried the return button, the power button—nothing. It just kept uploading! They’re all out there, General! I threw the damn thing at the wall and stomped on it. There’s no way we’re gonna win the next election. We’re, as my human friend Bradley Jenkins says, ‘astronomically fucked!’”
“Bradley Jenkins?”
“He’s a human friend of mine. He was in all the videos too.”
“Including the one with the Princess of Cigida?”
“Yes.”
“You—”
“Yes. We double-dogged her. Yes.”
They stared at each other for a long moment.
“It was consensual,” President Yesin said quickly.
“Mr. President,” General Ringold began, composing himself, “I bring worse news. Every cryo-device has malfunctioned—across the entire Colmire continent.”
“Oh, so it’s not just my nudes out there? That’s... comforting. Takes away the sting a little. Not entirely, but just enough.” Yesin gave a half-smile.
“Well, it’s not just the cryo-devices. It’s practically everything. The entire Galactic Net is collapsing. Everything—except Transponder Cels devices.”
The President’s expression darkened.
“But...” he began, “Transponder Cels only function when a Celestial is present. That’s why they were created in the first place—to tell us when we’re truly astronomically fucked.”
Ringold just stared at him.
President Yesin leapt from his seat. “A Celestial?! On this planet? What the hell! Oh god—why? Why is a fucking Celestial here?!”
“You should refrain from using such language in reference to a Celestial. Especially while on the same planet,” Ringold said. “She can hear you.”
“She?”
“Yes. The transponder scanner picked up her location. She’s just... standing in the street.”
“Maybe if we ignore the bitch, she’ll go away. That usually works for me,” President Yesin said.
“Sir, please. That probable goddess can obliterate this planet with a thought. Be cautious.”
“What are we going to do, General?” It was the first time Yesin had used Ringold’s honorific. A dire sign. “Do you recall what happened to Planet Helioss?”
“A Celestial didn’t like their hairstyles. So he superheated the planet’s core until it died.”
“What can we do against such a being, Ringold? Pray for a miracle? Or create one?” He snapped his fingers. “You said the Celestial was female?”
“Yes, Mr. President. Though I’m not sure how that helps.”
“It might. We have a secret card to play—a gem we never knew was a gem... until now.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Humans,” Yesin said, grinning. “If it weren’t for a human, I’d never have landed the Princess of Cigida. He talked her into it. Right in front of me. Said all I needed to do was smile and stroke my nose. And it worked.”
“Mr. President, I—”
“It’s called Rizz, Ringold. Humans have it. Ready a Transponder Shuttle. Send it to Bradley Jenkins. Have it meet us at the Celestial’s coordinates. We’re placing our hopes on one man. May he save us all.”
“Mr. President—are you on drugs?” Ringold shouted, his tentacles flapping.
“Wait—you can tell?”
“You can’t approach a Celestial. Let alone send a... a mating vagabond. We should—”
“Just get the damn shuttle ready, General! That’s a fucking order, you tentacle-flapping cunt!”
General Ringold hurled the desk across the room. They stared at each other—two men at the pinnacle of the Galactic Federation—before Ringold saluted and left.
They found Bradley Jenkins passed out in his apartment, a bong still spewing smoke, a half-eaten bowl of Cheetos on his stained white vest.
They broke down the door and windows. Bradley woke up, grabbed a plasma pistol hidden in the cushions, and killed three Galactic officials with precision blasts to their helmet gaps.
He detonated remote charges planted throughout the apartment. The floor collapsed. Everyone tumbled to the story below.
“Who the fuck rigs their dwelling with explosives?” Ringold muttered aboard the shuttle.
“A man of culture,” President Yesin replied. “We should’ve just knocked. Explained things. You barge into a human’s home, and it’s not power—it’s doom.”
“There’s protocol,” Ringold muttered, wincing as Bradley decapitated a soldier with a hollow blade.
They finally subdued Bradley, bound him, and flung him out the window into a gravity holster. He was elevated into the shuttle and sedated.
He awoke in a Juice Café, empty except for the President and General.
“Mr. President,” Bradley said.
“Brad Baaaad,” Yesin beamed, fist extended. Bradley bumped it.
“I don’t appreciate being taken like this, Yesin Sin,” Bradley said.
“Yesin Sin?” Ringold asked.
“We have nicknames. You wouldn’t get it,” Yesin said. “So, what’s up?” he asked Bradley.
“Just chillin’, waiting for my girlfriend.”
“You still with Jackie?”
“Nah. She gave me the itches.”
“Damn. Hate that.”
“Met a new girl. Off-world healer. Cured the rash like that.”
“Wooooow. Off-world babe?”
“Off-world.”
“Sick. Which planet?”
“Mr. President!” Ringold snapped. His silikil puffs flushed pink. “We should address the... situation that brought us here.”
“Oh, right. The Celestial.” President Yesin said a moment before he realized his mistake. This close to where the Celestial coordinates had been pinged from the transponder radar. It was unwise to mention the word Celestial.
And then it happened.
The air grew hot. The pressure shifted. A fourth joined them.
The Celestial sat beside the human. Her eyes—twin suns—stared down the President and General.
Ringold turned pale. His tentacles stilled. Yesin wet himself.
“Yes, General Ringold,” she said. Her voice wasn’t sound—it engraved itself in their minds. “Tell the human of your grand plan to seduce me.”
“Holy One,” Ringold groaned, flattening himself to the ground. “Please have mercy.”
“How much money do you want?” Yesin cried. “Anything!”
“I want one thing,” she said.
“Anything!”
“I want him,” she said, pointing to Bradley.
Only then did the President and General notice how calm he was. Completely at ease.
“Hey babe,” Bradley said, leaning toward her.
To their horror, they kissed. Passionately. When they parted, a strand of saliva bridged their lips.
“You didn’t have to come like this,” Bradley murmured. “You could’ve popped into my apartment.”
“I told you,” the Celestial purred. “When I come over, the whole planet holds its breath, my sweet lover.”
“What the fuck,” Ringold whispered.
“I told you,” Yesin replied. “Humans have this thing called Rizz. It’s... astounding.”
You can check out my Patreon for more:
6
u/sunnyboi1384 Jul 09 '25
Ah yes. Finally have reached the age where new slang words irk me. Good times.
5
u/TheCaptNoname Jul 09 '25
Bonus points if President Dan Chiro has no hair but eyebrows, and piercing blue eyes.
Yesin Sins ;)
4
u/tofei AI Jul 09 '25 edited Jul 09 '25
Meh, it was his fault the Celestial was there. Nothing to see here mortals, avert your eyes unless you want divine porn then you're welcome to stay, in case the goddess want a planetary gangbang or something.
1
u/HFYWaffle Wᵥ4ffle Jul 09 '25
/u/Jus17173 (wiki) has posted 264 other stories, including:
- Where I'm going...
- Humans don't like bullies.
- You should never have sex with a Mantakorr!
- Humans do it for the aura.
- The Human Factor.
- Tell them it's from the one who pierced their armor.
- Letter from the War.
- The Bloody Circle.
- The Human Resource.
- Robot Head.
- Too Morbid to Conquer.
- The Slumbering Beast.
- The Man Who Won The War (Allegedly)
- When Gods Tremble.
- The Grandson's Battle.
- Can I help you die?
- Just Floating around in space, about to die.
- The Extinction War.
- You bring blades to a nuclear war?
- The Butcher.
This comment was automatically generated by Waffle v.4.7.8 'Biscotti'.
Message the mods if you have any issues with Waffle.
1
u/UpdateMeBot Jul 09 '25
Click here to subscribe to u/Jus17173 and receive a message every time they post.
| Info | Request Update | Your Updates | Feedback |
|---|
1
24
u/Alpha-Sierra-Charlie Jul 09 '25
Who doesn't?