Deep Inside

by Polly Frost

  The smuggled Serzan are indeed beasts of beauty. The translucent blue-pink flesh. The tentacles extra long and thick, just the way I like it. Their central orifices pulsing with the promise of tight muscles and sweet slime.

  I drift, as if hypnotized, to the side of their cage. Who would think these creatures could bring so much demon bliss to Earth?

  I’ve still got my gun trained on him, but Alexi slides past my defenses. He points at the illegal bounty he’s got in his truck.

  “They say that fucking Serzan is like sexual crack. Is that true, Rachel?” Alexi asks.

  They’re right, I’m thinking. It is like sexual crack. The only thing that can satisfy you after sex with a Serzan is sex with another Serzan.

  For a man, a Serzan can become the tightest, hottest, wettest hole a dick could want, entirely free of relationship talk. For a woman, a Serzan…well, let’s just say they understand our unspoken needs and read our minds.

  Too bad perfect ecstasy comes at such a price.

  You never want sex with a human being again. And the Serzan lose their potency after fucking humans six times. They become listless heaps of pulsing tentacles. Makes you feel bad to see what you’ve done to them, even if they are aliens. But you push it out of your mind, because you just want more Serzan.

  And that’s why the alien trafficking is better business than drug dealing. The price just keeps going up. I’ve seen people raid their ATMs. I’ve seen people spend their retirement savings. Cash out their kids’ college funds. And rob to get more money? Oh, yes.

  And there’s no cure to Serzan sex dependency. There’s no successful rehab, and no detox that’ll clean out your system and wipe out your desire to fuck more and more of these aliens. Of course, the addiction is only part of the problem.

  The Miami streets are junk heaps of used Serzan. Funny how we used to send out squads to kill them. We thought that was mercy killing for the aliens and it’d put an end to the litter problem for us.

  But Serzan can’t decompose in the earth’s biosphere. And with the budget problems the epidemic has caused, the city can no longer afford to kill the old Serzan. Police have to concentrate on stopping the smugglers and wiping out the potent, dangerous aliens.

  The dumps are full. The debate rages over the hazards of burying them in the earth. And meanwhile, Miami streets aren’t a pretty sight. Heaps of slowly waving tentacles line the avenues. Cars smack into them, splashing pedestrians with the Serzan slime.

  The politicians and the media put on an optimistic tone for the public. We on the inside know we’ll never be able to eradicate the Serzan. It’s impossible. It’s taking over our city’s population. There are too many powerful and wealthy people here who’ve fallen to the Serzan addiction. That’s why the smugglers keep managing to bring in new aliens.

  At least we’ve contained the damage by throwing a cordon around the city. All the Serzan addicts live here. Of course, it’s meant that Miami is the only place on earth to have a spaceport. All the other plans to build them have been halted.

  Alexi snaps his fingers in front of my face. I blink. He pushes away my Exploder.

  “You know you’ll never kill these Serzan,” Alexi says. He’s somehow moved up close to me, and his voice is low, melodious, seductive. “You’ve been turned out, girl. And it’s the best thing that ever happened to you.”

  It feels like a lifetime since I fell. Can it really have been only three months ago?

  Details from the night I was turned out race through my mind. The lurid blue lights of the Serzan house we were busting. My partner, Marni, and I kicking down a door…a Serzan orgy raging inside on battered wooden floors. Our Exploders blasting the Serzan, their creamy insides splattering all over the naked men and women, their orgy now come to an end.

  Then confusion. The dealer’s men run in, grab Marni. I fight them off for a few moments, my kicks and swings allowing enough time for Marni to get away.

  If only I had escaped…or died…

  In Alexi’s crate, the Serzan wave their tentacles, drawing me towards them. I’m woozy with need.

  Alexi guides me closer. His hand’s on my lower back. It feels somehow protective.

  “Have a little alien sex,” he says. “I don’t mind. And I’m sure your fiancé doesn’t care. The two of you—”

  “Don’t talk about Zac,” I murmur.

  But my concentration’s already shot. For a second I stare at the diamond ring on my left hand. But my need for Serzan is too great. I can’t even picture Zac.

  “Service me,” I groan, unable to stop my addiction from taking over my body.

  Alexi looks at me with a smile.

  “Now!” I say, leveling my gun at his handsome, sleazy head.

  “Okay, but just one. And it’s on the house,” he says. He puts on a shoulder-length glove—Alexi’s careful not to touch the creatures flesh to flesh—and pulls out the smallest of the Serzan.

  It only takes a second for me to rip off my cop uniform.

  “Party hearty,” says Alexi.

  One of the Serzan’s tentacles is wrapping itself around my left nipple. How does it know that’s the more sensitive one? I surrender to the feeling. Soft and slick, the alien seems to know what my breast’s every nerve ending is craving. I’m on the verge of coming just from what one tentacle is doing to one of my breasts. I want more—but unlike men, the creature knows the value of holding back.

  I’m flat on the tarmac, writhing. And now Alexi’s standing above me, rubbing his crotch. “That’s good, Rachel.” He pulls his cock free of his pants. “You don’t even want ordinary dick anymore, do you?” he says.

  Saying that seems to get him hot. Alexi’s cock swells. But I can’t answer him. Another tentacle tickles my lips and tongue. My throat relaxes. The taste of ambrosia fills me. The tentacle plunges into my mouth and down my throat.

  Alexi extends a booted foot and rolls me over. He knows how not to touch a Serzan. My mesmerized eyes are locked on his as he watches a tentacle make silky love to my ass. My tongue pushes my lower lip forward as its tip nudges inside me.

  “Fuck you, police bitch,” Alexi grunts.

  And then he’s convulsing. He seems taken by surprise by how hard he comes as his load sprays over me.

  Me, I don’t care about anything. I need what I’m getting right now. A breast cradled and then tortured, something tiny but hot on my clit, tentacles up my ass and down my throat, my wrists held tight.

  I come. The Serzan holds me securely as I thrash and gasp.

  And then it’s blinding noon sun again, and it’s Miami, and I’m lying on the gritty tarmac. Is that steam rising from me? My body’s so heavy…my skin is covered with bruises and scrapes from the rough tarmac…

  I reach dreamily for the Serzan. I want more, but my arm is kicked roughly away.

  “You’re disgusting,” Alexi says. He throws the alien back into the crate.

  He steps into the truck’s cab. The engine roars. I watch the whole thing as though through a scrim.

  “Alien-fucker!” Alexi yells at me. “There’s nothing worse than a cop who samples the goods.”

  He roars off in a cloud of diesel smoke.

  I wasn’t always such a pathetic creature.

  Not long ago, I was the golden girl of the Miami P.D., with a stellar record of shutting down drug dealers. Then the Serzan epidemic hit. Overnight it became a different ballgame. Dealers were flying to the next galaxy for their evil wares rather than down to South America. Headquarters put me at the top of an elite task force.

  I went after the Serzan and the dealers with all I had. I knew it wasn’t just the fate of Miami that depended on me. It was something more.

  It was my suggestion that a cordon be thrown up around Miami. Smartest move the task force ever made. Sure, Miami now became a playground for freaks of all kinds who wanted a taste of sexual Armageddon. But the cordon contained the damage. Within a month we even had the numbers moving down.

  Two hours after
my meeting with Alexi. I’m at attention before Lieutenant Fuller of Internal Affairs.

  “We’ve been tracking you for months,” he says.

  Christ, how’d Fuller get to be lieutenant in I.A.? He’s had it in for me ever since we were at Quantico, and he thought we were an item. An exclusive item.

  He was wrong, but he didn’t find out until he swung open the dormitory door and saw me in bed, astraddle his roommate, a sweet-natured farm boy now working the gangbanger beat in Sacramento.

  “Aren’t I enough man for you?” Fuller had roared.

  “What makes you think you’ve got any claim on me?” I barked. I looked down at the farm boy beneath me. “Why’d you stop?” I yelled at him. “Keep fucking.”

  Because of that Fuller is now going to make me pay. But I won’t let him see me squirm.

  “How’s it feel to sit behind a desk while some of us take bullets in the fight against Serzan?” I ask.

  Fuller’s eyes narrow. I hit my target. Then he puffs up and gives me a triumphant look.

  “Are you that out of it? That’s not like the Rachel I once knew. Top of the class at Quantico. You didn’t even suspect you were being watched?”

  I remember now…Two gray cars, one car on alternate days. A glint in the sun that might have been a camera.

  “Nothing personal, Rachel. Just hard-assed orders from above—time to clean up the Serzan Unit,” Fuller says. “Your numbers are way, way down, and the new chief of police isn’t happy. To say the least.”

  Word was that the new chief was a tough son of a bitch, and deadly serious about his job.

  Fuller gives me a pitying look. “Wanna tell me about this bust you did a few hours ago? The chief wants to know why you didn’t bring the aliens in.”

  I wince, hope they haven’t been taping what they saw. “You don’t know how it works out on the street,” I growl. “You worry about rules and regs, but I have to deal with the real world.”

  Fuller leans over his desk, his face in mine. “I hear that you even had a Serzan tentacle up your ass out there,” he says.

  My pussy gives a throb as I recall the moment. That insistent, sweet tentacle winding its way around my thigh, tickling tender spots I’d lost track of and bringing them back to life…The feeling of its slick, perfect size making love so tenderly, then pounding me happily senseless into the tarmac.

  “How is it, Rachel? How do you feel, knowing people call you an ‘alien-fucker’?” Fuller’s saying. Despite the air-conditioning, there’s sweat on his brow. “What’s it like to feel Serzan inside you?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” I say unconvincingly. “Probably not as good as that farm boy.”

  He slaps me. “I’ve owed you that for years,” he says.

  Something snaps in me and I punch him in the gut.

  Doubled over, Fuller hits a buzzer.

  “Bring in backup,” he gasps. Then he slowly straightens. “Rachel, you’re under arrest. You know the routine. Give me the badge. Then the revolver. Then the Exploder. And do it slowly.”

  I’ve got mere seconds to act.

  “Fuck you,” I say, pulling my guns out, training them on him.

  Armed and uniformed men and women burst into the room. I collar Fuller and wrap a strong arm around his neck, and level the Exploder at the uniforms in the doorway.

  “Don’t do it, Rachel,” Fuller says. “You’re washed up already. Do this, and you’ll never get out alive. Cooperate, I’ll see to it that you’re treated nicely in jail.”

  Jail? That means life without Serzan. I apply pressure to his windpipe and squeeze a trigger. I don’t care which trigger. A bullet grazes Fuller’s leg. “Any more of that and you’re a dead man. Who needs a career? Who needs you?”

  The uniforms in the doorway part, their guns trained on me, as I drag Fuller into the corridor. People emerge from offices, but I back out quickly enough to the stairwell, then throw Fuller down and spring out of the building.

  I hear a fast, pounding clatter behind me.

  I burst onto the street in front of headquarters. It’s hot and humid even for Miami. There are dozens of cops only seconds behind me.

  I spot a man getting into his car. I run over, yank him out, get in, and pull the door shut behind me. The engine roars as I kick it into gear. There’s a plinking sound as the first of the cops’ bullets hits metal, but then I’m on two wheels going around the corner, and out of sight.

  I hear sirens warm up and motors fire up. I spin the wheel and head down a side road. I run a red light, make a bus plow into a fruit stand. Behind me, two cop cars smash sideways into each other. One of them flips through the air and lands on its roof. The other cop cars slam into it from behind, clogging the road. They can’t get by.

  I head down another alleyway. No one knows this area like I do. I park the car I’m in, hot-wire another, and I’m off at legal speed.

  This used to be my beat: hookers and drugs, baby. People I knew and sometimes even cared about, but I came down hard on them. I had to. Now it’s where people come to get a fix of Serzan.

  I motor past the pink house where I got turned out. I give it a look and feel like I’m passing the graveyard where my former self now dwells. I’m also feeling the need for a fix. My pussy is doing a slow, achy dance.

  I spot my chance another block down the road.

  The tip of a tentacle waves from behind a Dumpster. I roar over to the trash bin, hop out, and investigate what’s going on.

  There in the shadows, a man and a woman are at it with two Serzan. The man’s dick is out. The alien sucks it as the woman lies on the ground bathed in shimmering slime.

  I shine my flashlight, but it doesn’t matter to them. It wouldn’t matter to me either. I level my gun to their heads.

  “Get up,” I say.

  But they’re too far gone. The woman’s eyes roll back as tentacles plunge in and out of her. Too fast for my taste, but the alien is clearly reading her mind just right. She’s making growling, panting sounds, and barely manages to get out the words,

  “Please just let us be.”

  She’s tanned and highlighted, a trophy wife with a silver-haired older husband.

  I smack both of them around with the butt end of my gun.

  “Please don’t hurt us!” the man says. “I swear we’ve never done this before.”

  The Serzan wave their tentacles. I am starting to tremble with need.

  “Okay,” he says. “You’re right. We’re addicts. But we need our fix! Only don’t arrest us. I can pay you off—”

  “I don’t want money,” I scream. “I want you out of here!”

  “But our SUV’s parked a good two blocks away—”

  They see I mean business. They grab their sticky clothes and run naked down the alley, jumping over broken bottles and streams of urine.

  “Go back to Palm Beach, losers!” I scream. I fire a shot into the air. The man knocks over a garbage can.

  As soon as they disappear around the alley corner, I’m out of my suit and in the arms of the pleasure beasts. Without being told, they know I need a quickie, they know I need it good and hard. And they don’t disappoint me. Unfortunately, they’re also all fucked out and that’s it from these aliens.

  I steer the car I hot-wired over to Zac’s place. I hear sirens. I’m in a post-Serzan haze, but I still know that I.A.’s got to have staked the place out. Where else would I go for help?

  I park in a dark alley three blocks away, then make my way past Dumpsters and dart into the club through the freight entry.

  The sight of the bustle, the smell of the food, the clanking of the glasses—it all comes back to me.

  Zac.

  At one time you and I were the subjects of a feature story in Miami Life magazine. It wasn’t so long ago, really. There we were, bronze, fit…impossibly young. You ran Miami Beach’s latest happening nightclub. I was the cop who was fighting the good fight against the terrifying new alien epidemic.

  Readers probably though
t we were a wholesome couple. Readers don’t need to know the truth. Civilians don’t understand that the war on evil is fought best by those who aren’t pure and virtuous.

  If girls threw themselves at Zac, why worry? I had my pick of men. At the end of the day, we reviewed our conquests in our hot tub, and got each other aroused all over again. And if Zac skimmed a bit off the bar, and I let a few citizens show their appreciation with cash, who was harmed?

  I hurry unnoticed through the kitchen and enter the club. It’s a squalid crowd watching women pole-dancing. Upscale no more. Gone are the flashily dressed VIPs of Miami and in their place are potbellied guys drunkenly sprawled out on chairs. Did I do this to Zac? Did I bring us down?

  Bad memories flood my splintered brain. Zac accusing me for the first time of being with Serzan. Me trying to hide the alien sex I’d just had…the slime still glistening on my thighs…Zac storming away from our bedroom. Trying to make a go of human sex…finding I just couldn’t get aroused by Zac…our life going into a downhill spin.

  Then Zac discovering me and a Serzan in our hot tub. Zac furiously striding into our bedroom and getting my Exploder. Me begging him not to destroy the beast. Zac screaming at me to get out, or he’ll take me down, too. I barely manage to jump out of the water when Zac shoots the alien. Zac throwing clothes into his suitcase, leaving me to clean up the mess.

  “What are you doing here, Rachel?” It’s Ned, the six-five bouncer who’s always worked for Zac. “You know he doesn’t want your alien-fucker ass anywhere near here.”

  I give Ned a shove.

  “Where is he?” I say. “Where’s my fiancé?”

  Ned makes the mistake of trying to stop me from going backstage. I point my gun at him.

  “I’m only doing what Zac’s told me,” Ned says, his hands in the air.

  I head towards the strippers’ dressing room.

  “You don’t want to find him,” Ned says.

  I go into the dressing room anyway. And there he is.

  Zac’s known as a hottie. Dark-haired, more than six feet tall. No trouble with women.

  Right now he’s got two dancers on their knees in front of him. His eyes are rolled back in his head as they pass his dick back and forth between their mouths. G-strings cut up their butts, and their heels don’t seem comfortable. But the women certainly look into what they’re doing.