by Loki Renard
“Idiot,” I curse under my breath as I get up, leaving Tarkan’s senseless body lying on the ground. He will wake up in a matter of minutes, probably somewhat subdued, but possibly ready for another round. I grab a bottle of synth from the bar, pull the cork from the neck and take several strong pulls from it. The liquid burns like fire and helps to neutralize some of the aggressive hormones racing through my body. I do not like doing battle, especially not with my only brood sibling, but it is part of being Scythkin. We do battle, with other species and amongst ourselves. I think that might have been one of the qualities which drew us to humans. They are also prone to conflict, and so we see ourselves in these soft prototypes of all sentient creation.
I hear the sounds of stirring behind me. I don’t bother to turn around. If he comes at me again I will thrash him twice as hard and I will not give him the sweet privilege of being unconscious in his defeat. I will make him beg for mercy. I will…
“Are you done with that bottle?”
Tarkan is up, his hand extended. I hand the synth over and wait while he drinks nearly the whole thing. That will put him into a stupor, but I’m not complaining. He needs to calm down, accept that what happened already happened and there’s no point arguing about it now.
We don’t talk about the fight. We don’t talk about the human. The matter is over now, settled in the most full and final way possible.
“Did you find any other human traces?” I ask the question, still without looking at him. It will be some time before I treat him in a familiar way. Apparently he needs a lesson in the chain of command, and I intend to teach it.
“No,” he says. “I think we have to keep looking.”
“Agreed. You return to the surface. Let me know what you find. I’d like preserved samples if you get any. Maybe we can use them to work out what happened to the planet.”
He grunts. Not exactly a respectful response, but he may be having trouble vocalizing given how much pressure I put on his neck. He will do as I say. He will go out, find human DNA samples and return them to me.
It’s not going to be possible for me to breed with One. Our genetic material is compatible in terms of being able to make a viable zygote, but it would kill her when the fetus inside her grew all the aggressive ridged and bladed appendages native to our species. There is a reason we gestate inside eggs. A female would be torn apart by her infants before they had the chance to be born, so nature has ensured that we grow inside reinforced shells which are resistant to predators and ensure that the clutch has an optimal chance at survival.
If she is the last of humanity, and we have some reason to believe she could be, I want to fabricate some human semen in our laboratory and breed new humans. It may be possible to save the species, perhaps even repopulate the planet.
“Was she good?”
I look over at him. “I’m not talking about that with you.”
He hands the bottle back to me silently. I take a long swig, feeling calming endorphins sweeping through my body. The girl is mated. Tarkan has been defeated. I’m in control. I’m also very tired.
I need to rest. When I wake, I will help Tarkan resume the search for human life, or at the very least, some stray pieces of code which may restore it. Usually, the sexual conquest of a human female is reward enough, but this time there is so much more at stake. One is an incredible human female who managed to survive her dangerous world, and I am fascinated with the concept of breeding her. She is a beautiful human female, incredible given the dangerous world she has had to survive in, but perhaps it is the hardship which has formed her into such a fragile yet strong form. When we visited in the past, humans, men and women alike, had a certain softness and decadence. They were concerned with all manner of superficial issues, but I doubt One has heard of any of the political problems of the past, let alone cares about them. She is one little spark of hope in a broken world, and I will not only protect her from danger, I will make sure she brings forth life, one way or another.
Chapter Eight - Rebellion
Tarkan
Reaper is so fucking arrogant. He gets up, stretches and heads to bed without a second thought, so smug and sure of himself. What just happened between us was no true battle of strength, it was a display of complacency. He thought he was besting me, but I let him win. I could have gouged his eyes out, but I restrained myself. I could have ripped the arteries from his flesh, but I let him keep his blood. I could have broken the hand which choked the air from my lungs, but I didn’t. I lost consciousness so he could believe he had won, and so I could do this.
Today, he learns humility.
One hour later…
I look down at the insensate woman curled in my arms. One didn’t wake up when I removed her from her sealed chamber, not after I pumped a small amount of nitrous oxide into the atmosphere to ensure her sedation. From there it was easy just to carry her into a shuttle, set a course back to Earth, and try not to wake her up by laughing all the way down. Reaper is used to me giving in to his demands. He’s the commander. He’s first born. He’s been our leader from the moment we cracked our shells. But there are some things worth fighting for, and One is one of them.
She has the most stunning complexion and appearance. With her creamy tan skin, her bright red lashes and hair, she looks like the embodiment of a setting sun. Her eyes are closed again, but I know they’ll open soon, and when they do I want there to be a look of grateful desire in them. I might not be able to speak to her, but humans are expressive in so many other ways I am sure we can compensate.
I carry her across new terrain, far from the site of the shuttle, walking until we are in the middle of nowhere. This is a different continent from the one we found One on. I didn’t think it would be a good idea to return to the scene of the original crime. I also don’t want her to know where she is. If she gets her bearings, she’ll be gone. We frighten her. She doesn’t belong with us. She is part of this world, as broken and dangerous as it now seems to be, not part of ours.
I think I’ve done a pretty good job of getting her lost. I’ve done such a good job I’m fairly certain I am also lost. I have run a very long way with her in my arms, making sure to go over various kinds of terrain so Reaper cannot track me easily. He’s a terrible tracker, so I’m pretty sure even if I’d just sat down with her a hundred feet away he wouldn’t have found us, but I can’t take any chances. I suppose I could track my way back to it, but my intention is only to go further. This planet will be our love nest.
While I wait for One to wake, I think about how sweet it is going to be when Reaper wakes up. I wish I could be there. I should have left a camera up there so I can see the look on his face when he realizes that we’re gone. Right now, he’s sleeping high above the planet, smug and secure because he thinks he has won this battle, just like he wins every battle.
Each time One shifts in my arms, I can smell his scent on her. There is no doubt he has marked her thoroughly, but that will change soon. I will flood her with my seed. I will cover her with my juices. She will bond with me and Reaper will have to accept that being first born from our clutch and more agile in battle does not mean he always wins. This time, I win. This time, I get the girl. The last girl. The only girl. The one.
She makes a soft little sound and turns over in my arms, curling her legs up in my lap. She seems so comfortable and safe. She must have been exhausted, because she should have woken up quite a while ago. I knocked her out to get her out of the ship quietly, but technically she should have woken up almost as soon as we undocked. Maybe I used a little too much gas. Maybe she’s exhausted from what Reaper put her through. Or maybe she’s just exhausted in general. When I think about how she must have struggled to survive, I feel a bit tired myself. Scythkin aren’t known for our empathy, but we are predators, and that means we have the ability to understand the experience of prey.
It’s hard to put myself in her position, because it’s so foreign. As Reaper and I discussed before he betrayed me, humans
shouldn’t be able to survive alone. They are intensely social animals. One must be immensely strong to have made it alone. We did not find any signs of other habitation in the area in the recent past, which means she had been isolated for at least a year. And now she is being courted by two monsters with appendages which threaten to split her most sensitive places in two.
She is fortunate though. Contrary to Reaper’s assumption I would ravage an unconscious woman, I am prepared to wait until she is ready. Or at least, awake.
I want to take my time with this girl, and that is why I returned Earth with her. It may be dangerous and destroyed down here, but there are no overbearing broodkin attempting to intervene in our inevitable mating. This is her natural habitat. She will feel comfortable here. I have a plan to seduce her which Reaper would probably say was dishonest, because it is.
As far as she knows, she was taken to a weird place by two men who both looked the same, and whose skin split open to reveal massive monsters. That must have been frightening for her. I can only imagine she was terrified when Reaper took her, so I’m taking a different approach. A sneakier approach. When One wakes, she’s not going to find herself in a strange ship with a massive alien. She’s going to find herself back on the planet she loves, with a handsome rescuer. I have put on a fresh human suit. Unlike the dark haired, dark eyed creature who took her from her cave, she’s going to see a handsome man with blond hair and blue eyes. This suit was very popular when we visited in better times.
While I wait for her to wake up I plan my rescue story. I won’t be able to speak to her, of course. We still haven’t worked out a translation system for whatever language it is she is speaking now, so I will have to demonstrate that I too am human as she is. It occurs to me that I should superficially damage my human suit to make myself look more genuinely human. That’s one thing I know about people. They are always hurt in one way or another.
When she sees that I am injured, I will play act out a dramatic scene in which I show how two big aliens did battle with me for her life. I’m not entirely sure how I’ll portray that, but I think I can make claws with my meat stumps that these creatures call hands. Or used to call hands.
I’ll have to make sure the human suit is properly damaged. After all, Reaper and I would utterly destroy a single human male, no matter what he did. Maybe I should break one of the limbs. No. That would mean breaking a real limb. Surface level damage only, I decide. What a good idea. I set her gently to the side and start making the necessary alterations to my disguise.
One
Light is filtering through my lashes and penetrating the lids of my eyes, casting a red shadow over my vision. I keep my eyes tightly closed because I am afraid to wake up, terrified that I will find myself in strange captivity, once more prey to the lusts of the alien demon who tormented me into a series of orgasms which left me nearly insensate. The pleasure was great, but in the aftermath I am still so scared. That experience was so foreign to me, and I was so helpless in it, I don’t know what to make of a life that goes on after it.
Will it happen again? Will I ever be free again? Will the world become something I understand? Or am I going to be lost and confused forever, writhing in the lustful embrace of something that is so unnatural it may kill me?
I rub my face against what was sterile cloth and find instead the unmistakeable smell of fresh dirt. Only then do I realize that the air is fresh and rich with life. The scent gets me to open my eyes, whereupon I discover I am not in the bed in a bottle. Nor am I still strapped to the fuck chair. I am lying in the dirt. Sweet, sweet, entirely natural dirt. Before I sit up and cry out in relief at finding myself back at home, a noise at the periphery of my senses distracts me from my joy.
Staying completely still, I swivel my gaze toward the sound. There is a man sitting next to me using a sharp blade to cut into his skin. I lie perfectly still, uncertain and afraid, watching black blood drip into the sand between his feet. I don’t know what is happening, but the prickling of the hair on the back of my neck tells me that it is not good. Nothing that happens these days is. I am caught in an ever descending spiral, one bad event leading to an even worse one in a process that has been going on since my birth.
He is so consumed by what he is doing that he doesn’t notice me as I ease myself up from the ground and very quietly creep backwards. My entire life has been lived in stealth, and now the same qualities which helped me survive this long are going to help me escape this madness.
Careful, I think to myself. Be very, very careful. I just need to get out of sight. As soon as I break line of sight, it will be as if I have melted into the wilds.
At the final moment, just as escape seems like it is within my grasp, the man turns his head.
We lock eyes.
He says something I don’t understand in a very loud, very aggressive tone, and I run as fast as I can, scurrying through the plants around us with a bent, low, gait I have perfected over the years.
I hear him shout and give chase, but I don’t look back. You never look back. You watch where you’re going so you don’t fall over your feet and end up dinner.
I run as fast as I can through the undergrowth, crashing though bushes and just barely avoiding hard rocks and trees. I am sure the beast is chasing me, pushing me onward even though I know this is foolish. All this crashing will be attracting predators. They will be lurking nearby, ready to strike with all their terrifying aggression. I can practically feel their claws sinking into me, but this is a chance at freedom I will not get again. I am sure that what looked like a man is really another one of those aliens. Maybe one I have already met.
As I flee, my eyes scan the undergrowth for the mouth of an old rotted tree, or perhaps a small cave, even a decent depression in the ground would work. Much of my life has been spent escaping predators. I know how to run. I’m going to do this. I’m going to escape…
“NO!”
I cry out as he grabs me. I look down, expecting to see those big fake human hands on me, but it’s not fingers that grip me. Instead, there are tendrils wrapped around my legs, tentacles quickly whipping around my limbs.
This is one of the terrible beasts which roam the world, feeding on life. It is a sentient plant, a bloom which consumes humans the way fly traps used to trap flies. These plants are capable of walking, moving almost as fast as a person can, and they are ravenous in their appetites.
I scream at the top of my lungs as several plant suckers attach themselves to the most sensitive parts of my body. The plant unerringly finds the most delicate skin, two cups attaching themselves to my breasts, a third and fourth snaking up between my thighs to find my bottom and sex.
It begins to pulse with sticky viscous juices, flushing them against my skin. I scream at the top of my lungs as the bestial plant starts its vicious attack, small needles on the inside of its cups penetrating my skin and delivering shots of a deliriant which increases the sensitivity of my body so much that the soft touches of the plant send sensation rocketing through me.
These plants are called ecstasy plants, because they make their victims feel so incredibly good before they die. You do not perish from being consumed, or poisoned. You die because your nervous system is overloaded with violent orgasmic energy.
I know I should be fighting the plant, but the pleasure is so intense, so perfectly calibrated to my newly sexually sensitized form that I cannot bring myself to resist. The areas where the plant has pierced my skin are already deliciously pleasurable, and more suckers are attaching themselves all the time to new places. Soon it is as if my entire body has the capacity for the same level of pleasure as my sexual organs. More tendrils attach themselves. More suckers slip into place. More desire juice seeps inside me. I go from limply struggling to extending my arms and legs, inviting the organism to consume me. If this is death, then I wish I had experienced it long ago. I am pinned down, but I am flying high. I am short of breath, but it doesn’t matter as my muscles begin to convulse in the first of
a set of full body orgasms.
Seconds later, my pursuer catches up with me. He stops and stares, his big blue eyes taking me in. I feel a jolt of pleasure race through me, a sort of exhibitionist joy which surprises me. It felt incredible when the plant first took me and began suckling on my sensitive spots, but being observed this way, being seen spread out and aroused, grinding my hips and reveling in pleasure heightens everything.
I have never experienced this many orgasms in my life as I have in the last few hours. First the monster fucked me, stretched me, made me his. Now this plant seems to be determined to do the same.
I scream as a peak hits me, the pleasure racing through my system like a drug. My mind is full of filthy thoughts, images of sexual depravity, contortions and combinations I’ve never seen or thought of before. These are the thoughts of the plant. I was told that these plants consume the energies and carnal thoughts of their prey, and when they take new food, it is filled with the thoughts of all those who went before. I am seeing some truly filthy things dancing in my mind's eye.
My scream seems to concern the alien, not that it concerns me. I am past trying to fight this orgasmic death. Of all the ways to die on this planet, this has to be the best of them. Soon I will be inextricably linked with the plant, I will become one with it, my body liquified until all that is left is pleasure, nothing but pleasure.
With a ferocious cry, the man bursts out of his skin, taking that alien form I have seen before. As I suspected, this is another one of those bestial monsters who are so obviously not native to this world. Everything shies away from them, even the light itself seems reluctant to touch them. He walks in shadow, gleaming from the sharp edges which cover his ferocious form. Another orgasm ravages my body, enhanced by the sight of this alien who roars and rushes to save me from the inevitable. If I could speak a language he would understand, I would tell him not to try to save me, that I am content to die wrapped up in a comfortable endorphin haze. But I cannot speak. I can only moan.