Aspirant: A Sci-Fi Harem Adventure

by Whittaker, Maxx

  It doesn’t look warm or inviting.

  It looks sinister.

  The street is as dead as the rest of the city. There’s no movement or breeze, nothing to disturb the oppressive weight of the dark buildings and shadowy alleys. Where is everyone? It’s impossible not to imagine them packed like sardines in the buildings that loom over me, waiting for the Sisters to wave a finger so they can pour forth like a human flood and rip me to pieces. The thought is as ridiculous as it is terrifying, and for a moment it freezes me in place. The moon hangs above the length of street like a bloody sentinel, waiting for me to make a move.

  Screw it. Time’s running. What’s waiting behind that glowing window might be dangerous, but sitting here doing jack is definitely going to get us all killed.

  I wish, one last time, that Mika and Syl were with me.

  Close up, my destination’s as nondescript as everything else in this city. It could be every other building I’ve passed since I left the park, aside from the window. The light within is rosy, shimmering, and the window’s glass is beaded with moisture. Wet, so I can’t see through it.

  Because that’d be too easy.

  No time like the present.

  I loose my rifle, roll my shoulders, grab the handle and pull.

  “Mmm. Took you long enough.”

  The voice rolls from the room, gasping, panting and lovely. Immediately, I know I’ve made a mistake.

  Incense and smoke, the same from the Sister’s cottage but a hundred times more powerful, assails me, worming its way into my nose and mouth before I know to stop it. The effect is instantaneous. It’s like I’ve taken a dozen shots of whiskey at the same time. My mind drifts, pulling at my awareness as I blink slowly.

  I want to fall back, stumble into the street. Fresh air. I need it, have to get out of here.

  But I can’t. My feet are rooted by smoke and desire, my eyes wide and locked on her.

  “Annabelle.”

  She lays, legs spread wide. She’s buried in an ocean of blankets on an ornate, old style four poster bed. She’s completely naked, her pale body on perfect display. She watches me, eyes half lidded, biting her lip. Her flaxen hair is disheveled, hanging over one eye in the “just been fucked” look that I’ve always found irresistibly hot. That all guys do. Her breath comes in little gasps and moans that pulse in my mind like fingers across my brain. Why?

  Her hand is between her legs.

  Oh, God.

  One slender finger strokes, a long pass between pink, perfect lips. She’s so wet that it slides like a bead of water over a leaf, and her delicate folds glisten in the light of a few candles. I can’t move, can only watch. Her fingertip finishes its journey at her little clit, digging hard as it passes, pulling a moan from her that rises to little sobs as she cums. Her whole body spasms, drumming the bed as her back arches, lifting her clear of the blankets. She bites her lip so hard a little drop of blood runs down her chin.

  Finally, it ends. Her last gasps and the smoke caress me, and suddenly, I can’t remember why I’m here. Who I am. All that matters is her pussy, still twitching with the aftershocks of her orgasm, and her finger as it pulls free.

  Annabelle stands, takes a breath that swells her little breasts, and rolls her shoulders. Her every movement is studied, meant to show off her body. She raises eyes still clouded with pleasure, taking me in.

  “Sorry,” she whispers. “It took you so long, I couldn’t wait.”

  I don’t answer, can’t. My mind is shattered, reeling. My thoughts are liquid, flowing away as she walks toward me. Some animal, instinctual part of my mind is shouting for attention, screaming to run. That’s I’m danger, almost lost.

  But I still don’t move. Don’t want to. There’s nothing in the world I want more than her.

  She smiles, a slow curve of perfect lips, as she stops in front of me. Her body is a map of shadow and flesh; perfect, innocent, unspoiled. She brings her finger up, the same that she used moments ago to touch herself, and slowly pushes it to my lips.

  I let her in. I couldn't stop her if I wanted to.

  It slides slowly into my mouth, sticky against my tongue. She tastes like candy, like pussy, like sin made flesh.

  I’m so hard it hurts.

  She chuckles, low and throaty, running fingertips along my cock with her other hand. Through my pants it's so good its agony, and I almost cum right there.

  “Mmm. I knew it.” Annabelle pulls her finger from my mouth, runs it along my cheek. “I knew you wanted me. Wanted this. I could see it in your eyes back there.”

  “Yes,” I say. And I mean it.

  Or, do I? I came here for a reason, and somehow, I’m sure this isn’t it. But why? Someone… Were they counting me? I needed to… to hurry.

  I can’t remember why.

  Well, it couldn’t have been that important. Not more important than this .

  Annabelle turns, saunters back to the bed. Her ass sways, its curve hypnotic, hinting that her body isn’t finished growing. She’s so young and innocent, her face and shape so at odds with her mind and her raw sexuality.

  Something about this pings at my memory. Something recent. “You… Not supposed to be here.”

  “Why not?” She pouts, sitting at the edge of the bed. She beckons, and I’m moving to her almost against my will. “The others are so greedy. They never let me have any fun. Because I’m the youngest? The least powerful?” She licks blood from her lip as I stop in front of her. Her fingers slide into my waistband, hooking my pants. “None of that matters, now. They’re not here. Your companions aren’t here. No one to stop us or tell us no.”

  Companions?

  I’m about to ask her who she means, what companions, but rational thought deserts me as she tugs down my pants. They slide painfully over my cock as its pinned to my body before it pops free, eagerly pulsing in the warmth of the room.

  Annabelle’s eyes go wide. “Ooh. Delicious. And so big.” She fits her hand around the base. Her touch is electric, sends a pulse of pure pleasure through my body. It’s buoyed, carried by the incense that fills my mind. It flows through my bloodstream and I close my eyes, groaning.

  Some last, desperate part of my brain tries to tell me something. Fear, raw and primal. It claws at a tiny cage somewhere in my consciousness.

  I look down at Annabelle and can’t imagine why. She’s so beautiful, so perfect. I want her like I’ve never wanted anything in my life. I want to take her now, make her mine. Fill her with my seed, my soul. Fall into the ocean of her eyes and live there forever.

  She sees this, smirks. “Don’t worry, love. This will all be over soon. And then we’ll be together. Forever. ”

  Yes. Please, God. Please, yes.

  She leans forward, lips parting with fingers tight around my cock. She licks me, a long drag starting where her grip ends and finishing at my tip where she steals the single bead of wetness she’s pulled from me.

  “Hurry. Please.” I want to fuck her, to grab her hair and push deep into her mouth. The only thing that stops me is the lassitude in my limbs; a high from the smoke and her taste. It’s like a dream where I’m not in control of my body, but I’m aware of myself. I need her, need to be inside her, there’s nothing else that exists in the world. But I can’t move.

  I’m her prisoner.

  Her slave.

  I shiver at her hot breath on my cock. At the thought of letting her take me, of releasing all control. Of letting this happen.

  Yes… My mind whispers it.

  Annabelle’s mouth opens. She wraps my swollen head in the heat of her mouth. Her lips close around my cock, and she gives me a little suck.

  Ecstasy. Pure, crystalline. I moan, eyes closed as I forget. Everything. My past, my friends, my own name.

  Nothing exists but Annabelle. Nothing matters but what she’s doing to me.

  She pulls free, my cock popping from her mouth with a dirty little smack. “Look at me,” she says. “Watch as I take you.”

  I
do. I have no choice. She’s on her knees, now, staring up at me. Her eyes are impossibly blue, so deep. Like an ocean. Cold and fathomless. There is no emotion there. No desire. No love. Only need.

  Annabelle leans forward, slides her lips slowly around my length, never taking her eyes from mine. I’m tipping. About to fall into them. Lose myself forever.

  I want to.

  Memory. Something about Annabelle’s position, the way she gazes up at me, brings it forth. It cuts through the high of the smoke and her body, of the warmth of her mouth as it slides down my length. It’s a blade, slicing into my core. And I remember.

  Mika. Arms tied behind her back in the Threvian cell. Me, backed against the wall, as she wrestled my pants down with her teeth. As she trapped my cock with her bra, as I finished in her mouth. As she watched me, eyes brimming with adoration and love. Desire, for me. Sam.

  My name is Sam.

  Annabelle’s in the same position. Staring up, waiting for me to spill down her throat. But there’s none of the warmth, the desire. It’s not real .

  What the fuck am I doing?

  “Nooo…” I moan, trying to pull away. My arms don’t work. Why don’t my arms work?

  Annabelle pulls back, breaking contact. My body protests, still hasn’t caught up with my mind. Wants her, wants to drill to the back of her throat, to fuck her until I…

  “No,” I say again, louder.

  Annabelle frowns. “What?”

  “Stop. Don’t want… what are you doing… to me…”

  Her eyes harden for a fraction of a second. Something in her face… Changes. She’s not soft innocence, not youthful curiosity. All that melts away, and for a split second, I see the real her. A soul impossibly old. Hungry, avaricious.

  Angry.

  And then it’s gone. She pouts, full red lips still wet. “Don’t fight, love. I know you want this. Want me,” she says, running a hand along her chest. One nipple hardens, poking between splayed fingers, so pink against light flesh. “I see it in your eyes now. I did before. Don’t fight,” she whispers again, her breath a caress against my still hard cock.

  Some part of me does. She’s delicious, and the incense still swims in my veins, still pulls at my mind. Still whispers to me to give in. To let her take me.

  I ignore it. I’m back. I know who I am again. Why I’m here.

  “Get…. the fuck… away from me.” My legs won’t respond, won’t move. In fact, nothing will. I’m no longer in control, just a puppet.

  But that’s not my only weapon.

  I reach deep inside, to my core, to the protected place that Annabelle no longer controls. Then deeper, looking for something. The bright pulse that let me save Mika, save Syl…

  My new power.

  There.

  It’s weak, like a guttering candle. But it’s there.

  I seize it. Feel its shape. It’s unformed, a blob of… Something, deep inside me. Moldable.

  Before, when I’ve used it, it was instinct. This time, it’s will. The wrongness of this is the fuel I pour on the fire of my desperation. The knowledge that I’ll die if she takes me is the match.

  Annabelle’s lips part, and she leans forward. “Just stay still, love. This won’t take long.”

  I slap her away. Not with my body, but with my mind.

  She snaps back, almost comically surprised. The hand not holding me tight covers her cheek. The blow wasn’t powerful, was hardly enough to sting.

  Desperate, I reach deeper. There has to be more.

  “Oh, you’ve got tricks, do you?” Annabelle’s face hardens again. Good cop, bad cop. The thought makes me laugh, a crazed little chuckle that bubbles up my throat against my will.

  Tightness. A squeeze at my cock, cruelly hard. It’s still thick in her hand, begging for release. Her features twist further, from innocence to hatred in moments. “Fine,” she spits. “If that’s how you want it.” She pulls me, drags me back to the bed.

  My body barely resists. Inside I’m desperate, trying to find more of the power. It’s gone. Expended, by one tiny slap. I can sense it, still, but it’s weaker than before, and when I try to hold it with my mind it’s like quicksilver slipping through my fingers. It’s not hard to see why. I can barely hold a thought in my head, and even with my newfound clarity, I feel drunk and stoned all at once.

  This isn’t working. I try to heave, tense slack muscles, but nothing happens. It’s like something’s been disconnected between my brain and my limbs. She tugs my shaft and I follow, unable to raise my arms to fight her off.

  Annabelle shimmies up onto the bed, ass at its edge, and draws her legs up. Her pussy parts, still so wet. She pulls me further, until my head is so close I can feel her heat. “I wanted to make this good for you,” she hisses. “Wanted this to be easy. It’s so much more enjoyable for both of us when you don’t fight.” Another tug. “But I don’t need your cooperation. I don’t need you to want me.” She pulls again, until the head of my cock parts her lips, just barely. They’re so hot they’re burning, and so very tight. “I only need your seed, Sam.” She bares her teeth, predatory. “I only need your soul.”

  I try to fight, rail at my body, but I can’t. My arms barely move, and I can’t make my legs kick or run. My head swims, drunk, and thoughts are quicksilver. But I know one thing. I can’t let this happen. Cant… I have to stop it…

  Her smile is cruel as she watches me struggle, knows I can’t. Her pussy throbs around my tip. “Don’t worry. It’ll still feel so good. Until the end.”

  Something of her reaches in me, violating, taking. It probes at the same place my power sits like fingers ripping into flesh. When she pulls, she pulls at my soul. I can feel it, feel her inside me ripping away my sense of self. “No…”

  Her grip tightens, on my cock, and my spirit. She pulls me inside her heat as she tears me apart from the inside.

  I’m falling. Falling. Everything goes black.

  Suddenly, a scream. Pressure releases, from my body and soul, and I fall back against something warm. Arms, holding me tight.

  What…?

  Like before, the spell is broken. The pressure on my mind releases, and instantly, I’m in control. Can feel my limbs and strength returning.

  “What the hell… Happened…”

  “Shh…” Mika whispers from above me. “You’re safe.”

  Whose screaming?

  I open sandpaper eyelids, blink away the blur.

  Holy shit.

  Syl is crouched over Annabelle, indigo hair shrouding her face as she snarls. All eight of her claws punched through flesh, pinning the witch to the bed. She shrieks, writhes in Syl’s iron grip, thrashing. Her naked flesh smacks against the alien, tries to escape, but Syl doesn’t move. She just watches, waiting for her prey to still and bleed out.

  “She tried to take me,” I cough.

  “She’ll pay for it.” Mika glares, as angry as I’ve ever seen her.

  I stand, staggering as Mika helps me up. We watch Annabelle’s death throes, watch as she stills. She looks nothing like the beautiful temptress she did only moments ago. What writhes under Syl’s claws is twisted and feral. She looks identical to before, and yet is somehow so different. She gives one final, mighty spasm, but Syl doesn’t move. She doesn’t twitch as the bed rocks with the violence of the witch’s agony.

  Finally, she dies.

  Syl springs from the bed, cleans her claws off on the blankets. She turns to me, takes me in. “Are you operational?”

  I take her hand, squeeze it tight as Mika holds me like she never wants to let me go. “Yes. Thanks to you. I tried to fight her, but…”

  “Shhh,” Mika whispers again.

  I bend down, hastily pull my pants back up. It’s distinctly uncomfortable; whatever Annabelle’s magic did to me, it feels like I’ll be hard for hours. The girls don’t make quips or watch; this isn’t like before, when Syl broke us free of the Threvian prison. All we want is to be away from here. We leave the room together, and none of us loo
k back at Annabelle’s twisted corpse.

  It’s hard to walk. Mika glances down, eyes dancing with mischief. “You were gonna do it, weren’t you?”

  Now that we’re in the street, I’m fair game, apparently. “What?” I ask, feigning innocence.

  “Indeed, I believe he was,” Syl says, voice as close to teasing as I’ve ever heard.

  “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “He was about to stick it in crazy,” Mika laughs, hand to her mouth, holding back a laugh.

  Syl pokes my pants with one claw. “Evidence suggests you’re correct, Mika.”

  “How should we punish him?”

  Syl winks, the motion adorably awkward considering her huge, anime sized eyes. “We will think of something.”

  I’m intrigued, and a bit terrified.

  And also, kind of amazed. They just busted in on me in about as compromising a position as I can imagine, and neither of them ever thought it was by choice. My throat tightens, and as stupid as it sounds, I have to fight back tears. The trust, how they believe in me, I’ve never had it with a woman before. With anyone, really. It’s like water pouring into a dried old well, filling me.

  I pull them both close, hold them tight. Our foreheads rest close. “I love you. Both of you,” I whisper.

  “Duh,” Mika sasses.

  “Yes. I believe we discovered that long before we rescued you,” Syl says, kissing my cheek.

  “Yeah, well,” I laugh, and this time I do wipe away a tear. “Sorry. That was cheese. Just…”

  “Shut up,” Mika says with a soft smile. “Don’t ruin it.”

  “I, for one, do not mind a bit of… cheese,” Syl says the last word like she’s never heard it, but by the mischief in her eyes, I think she knows what I meant.

  “Okay. Fine. Know it all’s.” I busy myself with a lot of unnecessary fastening of buckles and adjustment of straps.

  The girls watch me, their amusement palpable.

  “Anyway” Mika says. “We should…”

  Laughter.

  It comes from behind us, inside the house.

  “No way,” I say.

  “Back!” Syl yells, and we scramble further into the street, bringing up our weapons.