by Loki Renard
I feel a deep welling of reverence as I sheath myself inside her. This is why our kind has sworn to care for humans. They are our match, in some intangible universal way, we are made for one another, her hot, wet sex slicking my harsh rod with all the juices it needs to keep penetrating all the way to the very end of her tight channel.
There we pause, her lower lips spread lewdly around my shaft - and then I lift her back up, and down again, stroking her along my cock like the soft meat toy she is, listening to her wails and moans as she gifts them to me along with the scent of her body, a thick rush of pheromones which threatens to overwhelm me.
Seven
He growls and my body purrs. He thrusts and I scream with erotic delight. I am being ravaged in the best of ways, feeling myself commanded and owned as he leaves his mark on my soul with every stroke, lifting me up and down by using my cheeks as a holding place, his claws digging lightly into my flesh not hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough for me to feel their sharpness and their strength and for my body to react with a fresh flush of wet desire.
He is not a man, and mating with him must surely be unnatural, but then why does it feel so right? Why am I caught in waves of pleasure which keep rolling on and on, little orgasms radiating out from my clit every time it brushes against a hard ridge of his belly on a downstroke, and then back on the way up? He is ridged for my pleasure, made to terrify and satisfy at the same time and soon I am urged not into being pushed up and pulled down on his rod, but my instinct is to ride, to join with him in this ravaging, to push myself down so I can be filled, and to rise with him so that I might be taken once more. Every thrust is a cosmic event sending ripples throughout my flesh. I am screaming words I don’t understand, I am bouncing and writhing all over his thick rod and he is forced to contain and control me with those huge hands which encircle my waist, claws touching as he makes me stay still for all of a moment, throbbing inside me, our eyes locked, our mouths pressed together before wild desire makes us rut again, this time more desperately before and all too completely.
The climax which finally overwhelms me is prompted by his own roaring orgasm, torn from me by his bucking hips, and I am but a scrap of femaleness on this leviathan male, riding a tsunami of sensation which threatens to separate my body from my mind and my soul from the world.
I fall back against his lap in a complete carnal surrender. There is no fight left in me. There’s not even the concept of fight left. Why would I want to when I am feeling the best I have ever felt in my entire life without the use of some mind altering drug? He has unleashed my body’s ability to regulate the chemistry of need and take me to a place of pure relaxation and release.
“Better, little human?”
“Much better,” I sigh.
I don’t know what he is. Alien. Daemon. Some wicked mixture of the two, perhaps. But I do know one thing: he has taken me, and he has made me his, drenched in sweat and sticky with seed, and more satisfied than I can remember ever being. My body is heavy with perfect relaxation. I feel him cradling me, his massive arms wrapped around me, his hands clasping me lightly, claws over my breast, possessive and tender and dangerous all at the same time.
“What now?” I sigh, satisfied.
He brushes his lips over my temple, and I feel the light graze of his not quite fully retracted. “Now, you will be imprisoned. Kept in a small, secure room in which you will reflect on your sins, of which there are many.”
It takes a moment for the meaning of the words to sink in. I am in such a state of relaxation and calm intimacy that the shocking message has some difficulty worming its way through my brain.
“I’m going… where?”
“Into a small, secure room…”
“What!?” I sit bolt upright. As I do, I feel myself ache in a carnal way. Looking down, I see how I have been ravaged completely, my swollen lower lips still pulsing every now and then in the aftermath of the stretching pleasure he imparted. How could he do that to me and then do this to me?
“Are you serious?”
“Absolutely,” he says, brushing loose hair back from my face. “What did you expect to happen, human?”
“We just… we had… we…”
“We coupled. But it doesn’t stop you from being the most criminal human in the simulation.”
“So you used me. Took my body. And now you intend to hold me captive.”
“That is the most ideal outcome, is it not?”
“How could that possibly be an ideal outcome?”
He seems to be confused. I am definitely confused. What he is saying is awful and tyrannical and borderline brutal, but his touch is gentle and caring.
“You need to be kept captive. You need to be confined, controlled, taken out and used, and then returned once more to the space that is too small to allow any disobedience,” he rumbles intimately. “You are too rebellious for anything else.”
“But this isn’t fair. I didn’t do anything that wrong, besides not following the prompts on a sign.”
“You put the entire structure of the simulation at risk. You resisted the most simple of requests. You caused pain to your fellow citizens by rebelling. The simulation will be more peaceful without you…”
“Why do you keep calling it a simulation? It’s real. I’m real. The other people are real.”
“But the world itself isn’t. You don’t live on a planet. You live in a simulated human environment. A city which never existed on the original human home world.”
“I still don’t see why I should be punished for not following orders when I didn’t even know what they were. And I don’t see why humans should have to live in some alien built simulation. We should be free.”
I expect him to look ashamed, or at least a little guilty. Instead his oh-so-inhuman face makes a very human expression of pure sneering disdain.
“Free? You were never free. No human has ever been free. Humans have crushed others under the will of the strongest and most corrupt for centuries. No human is truly happy unless they are oppressed.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Is it?” He laughs at me in an infuriating way. It’s condescending and dismissive, as if he thinks I don’t know anything about being human - I am human. I definitely know more about it than he does.
“Yes. It is.”
“I spent many hours studying your species when I was given the chance to oversee the simulation,” he says. “I noticed several common themes.”
“Oh, several?” I am sarcastic, but he doesn’t notice. “You must be a complete expert.”
“I am,” he says. “Your species isn’t that complex. You’re a very simple animal.”
I can’t tell if he’s trying to make it worse, or if he doesn’t care that he’s making it worse.
“Let me ask you something,” he says. “In your experience of your civilization…”
“Which is a simulation, apparently.”
“Yes, but based on actual human historical data,” he says. “What happens when someone breaks the law?”
“They go to jail,” I say. “Or maybe they get a fine. Or let off with a warning.”
“And there you have it.”
“There I have what?”
He stretches, flexing his claws, his horns twitching with triumph. “Scythkin have no imprisonment, because we accept our roles within our clutches, and give ourselves to the greater cause. There is no need to put scythkin behind bars. But humans have limited allegiance to their collective, which means they quite often act against it, which means they have to be threatened into obedience, and punished with jail.”
“So you’re better than us?”
“Yes. Absolutely.” He puts no emphasis on the words, they are simple statements of what he considers to be fact. “Humans have to be controlled by external authorities, like the state, because without that show of force, humans run wild and behave in increasingly erratic ways. That is why most humans in the simulation took to the order to kneel with
out question. It is natural to your kind to be dominated.”
“Bullshit.”
“It is entirely intrinsic, and every human social construct relies on it.”
“You’re wrong.”
“If I’m wrong, then why do you think prison is part of human society?” He poses the question in a way that I find incredibly smug. I didn’t wake up this morning expecting to discover that I lived inside an alien designed construct, and that I would have to defend the morays of a society I never actually truly lived in.
“Because sometimes people do bad things and they have to be punished.” Somehow he has me arguing for jail even as I’m trying to stay out of his version of it. “Society has to be protected. But not from me. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
He taps my nose lightly with the tip of his claw. “I don’t have all day to argue with you, little human, so I will explain this to you simply. The mere existence of jail is the single most obvious piece of evidence that in organic human society the state owns the citizen. If you can be jailed for breaking the law, then your freedom is conditional, and if your freedom is conditional, then it isn’t really freedom. It’s just a limited reprieve from the more intense prison inside the prison you already inhabit. Humans choose to live this way over and over again, in a variety of cultures across time. Constantly afraid of running out of money. Constantly afraid of getting sick. Constantly afraid that they might not have a roof over their heads. And they were not allowed to make their own shelters, because that was against the codes of the law. Do you see, Seven? Do you see the prisons humans built for themselves? A thousand tiny prisons so every word and deed, breath and choice could become something to be persecuted for - and often was. I ask that humans kneel. That is all. One little request, and you could not capitulate to it. So you will be punished. Thoroughly. And when I am not punishing you, you will be kept in a cell, because that is an appropriate punishment for your kind.”
I narrow my eyes at him as hatred and betrayal begin to surge. He thinks he understands humans, but he doesn’t. He’s looked at us and drawn conclusions, and that’s not the same thing. He doesn’t know what it is like to be inside a human body or to have human emotions. He’s alien, and I let him inside me, thinking we were joining. But we weren’t, not really. He ravaged me, left me dripping with need and seed and now he is sending me to a cage, like an animal.
“Prison is a punishment. For bad people.”
“And for people who disturb society, which you did.”
“If you put me in jail, I will hate you.”
“I don’t think you will,” he says. “I think you will be so relieved when I let you out, you will be willing to follow any order I give you.”
“That’s not how humans act. You’re thinking of dogs.”
“I don’t think so.”
The cell is small. Six feet long by four feet wide. It is claustrophobic, and the walls are painted yellow with peeling paint. The door is dented metal with a slot in it, rust and what looks like some kind of organic growth spreading from the edges of it.
The bed is possibly the worst part. The mattress is curled and stained and so thin that even if I wanted to sit on it, which I don’t, I’m sure I would feel the concrete pad underneath it.
If I understand this correctly, Krave could do anything with me he pleased, but this his how he chose to design my captivity, modeling it after the most miserable prisons in the world, I bet.
“This is what your species believes to be correct circumstances for imprisonment,” he says. “You have a bed, a sink, and a toilet. You will have food delivered. In some versions of human history, enterprising prisoners worked out how to talk through the toilets. It’s fascinating.”
There’s really no emotion in this for Krave. He believes this is natural to me, though it couldn’t be more strange.
“How long am I going to be in here?”
“Until I decide that you’re better.”
“Better than what?”
“Than you were before.”
The door shuts with a heavy clang. I am left alone, one human outside the comfortable simulation which I have always known to be my home. Confusion and frustration war for dominance within me. I have to think this through.
A piece of painting started all of this. Someone tried to warn me that it wasn’t real. Is that person still inside the simulation? Or did they escape? Are they in prison down here? I wonder how many cells might be strung out in a row extending to alien infinity, a thousand traps for the human body and soul.
I slept with him. The thought forces its way into my mind.
I gave him my body. My trust. A little bit of something that could have maybe one day even been love. I guess I can’t blame him for that. What does it say about me that I was willing to give myself to the first knife-faced tyrant I met after falling down the plug hole in the middle of the ocean? Nothing good, that’s what.
I sit down on the mattress, finding that it is just as uncomfortable as it looks. This cell is disgusting, completely without windows or any kind of natural light. Not that there can be any natural light on the underside of the world. The model of the world I was taught with the earth orbiting around the sun appears to have been a lie. Instead there is a dish you can fall through into a prison. I don’t know what the cosmic consequences of that are.
I wonder if Krave knows the other thing humans always do, besides imprison each other.
We escape.
This cell appears solid enough, but I’ve seen enough today to know that things are not always what they seem to be. It might not be real. There might be parts of it which are nothing more than holograms, lies of light. I get up and start to examine every part of it I can reach. It all seems solid, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying. There is always a way out. Always.
CARNAL CONUNDRUM
Krave
I felt something with her. I felt too many things, all at once, and far too powerfully. When I joined with Seven it was more than the rough coupling I am accustomed to. I felt a pull inside the very core of me, and I felt something more intense, a joining of what could only be described as the soul.
She took a part of me, and it still resides inside her, a spark of my essence entwining with her own beautiful soul.
I did not expect that to happen. I still do not know what it means.
Scythkin have a carnal fascination with humans, that is well known. Humans are our past, and our present - might they also somehow be our future? That makes no sense whatsoever. The only thing we have in common with humans is our penchant for penetrative congress, and the unrelenting desire to conquer new territory where we find it, turning whatever previously existed on alien landscapes into broodsites. Scythkin retain a vestigial penis to allow copulation with humans, suggesting we have a common ancestor, but we know well enough that time is a tricky beast. Things can exist at the same time even if they came before or after one another. It is possible to be born before one’s own grandparents, if one knows what one is doing.
Humans have a central role in the consciousness of the universe. They are soft and they are weak, but they are able to sexually bond with a myriad of other species. I did not begin to suspect that one would be capable of initiating a true scythkin mating bond. The way I feel about that little human locked away in her customary concrete box is the way I would usually feel about a towering twelve foot tall matriarch, her abdomen swollen and burgeoning with eggs yet to be laid.
“Get a grip on yourself, Krave,” I lecture myself out loud. “She is just a human, and you did not use your seeding appendage. There is no chance you inseminated her.”
But that’s not truly what I’m worried about. I’m worried I’ve done something even worse than having spawned a razor sharp fetus inside her unprepared womb.
I may have fallen in love.
Love.
Ugh.
What a useless emotion. It’s not practical like a sense of duty, the way I feel toward my brood.
“KRAVE!”
Tyank has the worst timing.
There are ninety-nine scythkin in my brood. As first born, I bear the brunt of responsibility, so I remained to oversee the simulation while the main brood continued on their mission to claim territory. I am not here entirely alone, however. I do have two of my brood with me.
“What is it, Tyank?”
Tyank was last to hatch, stunted in the egg. He is therefore only a fraction of the size of a regular scythkin, standing just six feet tall. That leads some to underestimate him, but that is a mistake. He is just as dangerous as a full-sized scythkin, and he can fit into smaller spaces.
He bashes through the door, leaving a Tyank-sized hole in the plywood, a splintered space which is not worth fixing because he insists on walking directly through it every time. He doesn’t seem to feel pain, and if he does, then showing it is definitely beneath him.
“Simulation's under control again,” he says. “Boring. What did you do with the human?”
“Put her in a cell,” I say, leaving out the part where we mated and I formed a chemical and emotional bond with her which might very well tear me apart.
“Just put her in a cell? You going to wait to start torturing her?”
“We’re not going to torture her,” I say. “That was never part of the plan.”
“What is the point of owning a zoo of people if we can’t punish them for disobeying us?”
“We don’t own a zoo of people. We are guardians of a simulation.”
Tyank has all the offensive capabilities of a full-sized scythkin, squeezed into a small package, but it’s not just the physical qualities which are more intense. He is twice as aggressive, has twice as much rage, and seems to have twice as much to prove. He is here because I am the only one capable of controlling him to any extent whatsoever. Left to his own devices he could destroy an entire solar system in a matter of weeks. We know, because he did that once already.