by Jaye Peaches
“Oh, dear girl. Of course. I am after all a returned Gift.” She said this with a gleeful smile as if the accolade was a medal around her neck.
Shayla discovered many of her tutors had once been gifted. Not all women returned when they retired, some chose to live out their lives on distant planets, where they were treated kindly, but generally ignored as unwanted reminders of Hezara’s dependence on the females of other species. The tutors were surprisingly coy about their specific treatment, citing their need to honor privacy agreements with Hezara. However, Alfraya was quite open about her life there.
“Spanked. Anal sex. Insertion of stimulating devices. Orgasm denial. These are many ways you might be tamed. My advice, young Shayla, do not disobey these men. And if you do, accept their punishment with dignity. They will respect you for that. Be demure and submissive in all things. Never question their authority.”
There was so much to take in about these strange aliens. Some days Shayla felt completely overwhelmed with her responsibilities, other times, thrilled at the idea of adventure, even if she’d had little involvement in its planning. She’d no clue when drafted into the academy that Hezara were archaic in their attitudes to women and dependent on base desires, and yet also advanced beyond Earth’s imagination when it came to technology and military accomplishments. Whenever she purred with excitement at the thought of traveling to the other side of the galaxy, Alfraya brought her crashing back down with some nuanced piece of information. There were things Shayla had come to accept as okay, perhaps pleasant if done well, but denial and spankings were not on her wish list. She needed to know more; she could be terribly nosey when she put her mind to it.
“They won’t harm me?” she asked.
“They seem incapable of harm when it comes to human women. You see, my dear, you are too precious to them. Without you, they must force the Hunger from their bodies with sexdroids and those robots are not satisfying these men. Their functionality is limited, and not all men have access to them, and only a handful are granted Gifts. You will be treated well, but also controlled in every possible way to keep you safe and secure in their habitats and jealously guarded. Very possessive, these Hezara men. One might say it is a weakness.” Alfraya lowered her voice. “Don’t ignore their weaknesses. There are some who wish to know more about them.”
“Who wants to know?” Shayla asked.
Alfraya pressed her finger to Shayla’s lips. “Somebody will contact you.”
In the weeks before her departure, covert operators whispered to her during secret meetings; they wanted her to find out about the queens.
“It’s their biggest problem,” one creepy man with a lopsided face told her. “Hezara rely on a relatively small number of females to reproduce and the shrinkage of their genetic pool is forcing them into this Hunger. We, the Earth’s Resistance, believe that if we can threaten their incubators, then they will give us greater freedom.”
“Freedom from what?” she asked. Such insurrection was dangerous, but she’d agreed to meet them because Alfraya had insisted and she trusted her friend.
“This oppression, the claim that gifting of our women will protect us.”
“But, don’t they protect us from the Violence?” Shayla wrung her hands into a knot. Something about her mother’s warning and her father’s own opinions had given Shayla the confidence to break with protocols and meet the Rogues, as they were called by the Earth’s Supreme Authority. She’d not anticipated how many people were out there willing to risk their lives to speak to her.
“The Violence,” said the lopsided man, who had come with a companion who scowled throughout and kept glancing over his shoulder—they’d met in the middle of the night in an abandoned basketball court. “What Violence? We have only their word that the galaxy is a dangerous place. They need us more than we need them. Gifts! What happens is a mockery of that word.”
She mentioned her eminent father, but the Rogues disagreed with what he preached.
“Your father is wrong. There will never be integration and we will slowly be subjugated until all our women are theirs. To protect ourselves, we must understand more about their nests and incubators, the queens. These aliens aren’t going to love you, treat you with respect. They see you for one purpose only. Fucking. They’re addicted to fucking.”
That last word had made her uncomfortable. It was strictly forbidden in the academy to talk about ‘fucking’ and any other vulgar term for copulation. As far as Shayla had been taught, pleasuring was an art and required specialist physical stamina and mindfulness. Hence her daily requirement to meditate.
She said her goodbyes—to her fellow trainees, who looked on with both envy and delight at her achievement, the dedicated team who’d tutored her at the academy, and Earth, the planet she’d called home since birth. As for her mother, Shayla had long ago accepted that relationship was a distant memory. Her birth father, a pioneering advocate of interspecies relationships, had maintained a cursory interest in her life, and only during her last days on Earth had he approached her to give advice. Like her mother, he’d not been happy that she’d been selected, but what could he do when nobody was allowed to criticize the system. He hoped for a different future, where choice played a greater role.
Her father believed the Hezarans should consider breeding with humans and ultimately create equality between two species. He even spoke of the potential for life partners, which was something the men of Hezara claimed they never needed.
“The Hunger,” he told her during their brief farewell meeting, “is symptomatic of a greater need that goes beyond sexual appetites. You, Shayla, and all the other women we’ve sent in the past, are slowly awakening them to other desires, and possibly other solutions. This is your true mission. Conquer their hearts and we will achieve integration.”
So what was her true mission? Was it to rescue aliens from the agony of the Hunger? Just that—to find love with Hezarans and convince them to be equals, as her father wished? Or was it to uncover the secrets of their nests and queens, and spy?
Before she left Earth, she’d made up her mind. She chose to find out about the queens because they must be like her, special and privileged. She had to find out why only a few females existed in the world of Hezara. As for love, the notion was ludicrous given her status.
From Earth she was sent to Alphabase—the superstructure orbiting the Earth—where scanners examined her anatomy and proved her to be genuine. Rumors always spread that rebellious Earthlings would send cyborgs instead of living beings. She sailed serenely through the inspections and questionings, determined not to reveal anything about her true mission.
The next stage of her journey propelled her through outer space, across the expanse of the galaxy through wormholes and other methods that she didn’t understand, until she arrived at Odesta—a watery planet and fortunately for her, one of the few Hezara planets to have a reproducing queen.
There was an incubator somewhere. How would she find it?
Nobody had told her a thing, especially her chaperone who’d kept her company throughout her journey across the stars. A narrow man with no hair and a missing eye, who although kind, had not shared any useful information with her. She deduced he had been ill, and given that sickness was deemed a weakness, he probably had been given the role as it required no contact with her. He was very hands off and nervous about touching her, as if he might contaminate her.
After the transporter had touched down that morning, the bald man told her she was promised to the twins. He provided her with their names and descriptions, but little other information. She was fortunate that Jago and Kriss were twins, and not triplets or even quads. Alfraya had pointed out during a matter-of-fact briefing that twins would take turns, and if they did work together, it was no hardship having one plug her ass with his cock while the other used her other hole. Alfraya had added that triplets were generally workable, but things became complicated with quads, or the even rarer quins.
“Stamina, of course is an i
ssue. And double penetrations... don’t go so pale, Shayla. I did say extremely rare.” To have been given to heart quads would have truly tested Shayla’s abilities. So, she expected she could manage twins. She took some comfort from one of Alfraya’s parting comments. “The oracle will advise them. It has amassed a huge amount of knowledge on humans and our sensory system. They will find other ways to keep you occupied that will be... enjoyable.” Alfraya had smiled, which was a rare thing.
Her escort—two military droids—transported her to her new home, which was by the edge of a great blue lake. There were many houses like it, lining the hillsides and beyond. The interior was minimalist, clean, vast, and with the exception of the bathroom, there was just one chamber. The curvature of the building accommodated a glass wall—all Hezara homes were crescent shaped and without angles. Beyond the glass, the lake stretched out into the distance, the still waters lapped against the glass. There were fish just below the surface.
There was no bedroom, no separation of space for night or day. The furniture provided in the arc of the habitat was varied, but there was nothing that resembled a bed. On the floor was a scattering of cushions, as if to create a nest, which seemed to make sense to Shayla. No kitchen, but she knew already that Hezarans didn’t cook but relied on nutritional supplements delivered to their doors once a week—food was free.
She’d arrived clothed in a white gown that covered her from neck to ankle. However, on the threshold of the house, the droids insisted she remove it and hand it over. They had no feelings or facial features that moved or reacted, and although she was accustomed to nudity when required, she was uncomfortable undressing in front of them. Their mechanical eyes watched her, unblinking. A robotic hand clawed at the fabric and nearly snatched it out of her hand. It would be easier once they left, which they did—their job done. She’d been delivered in much the same way a package arrived on a doorstep.
Now alone, she inspected the bathroom. The suite included a monsoon shower with multiple heads and two bathtubs—one shallow, one deep. The roof of the bathroom was glazed, allowing sunlight to bounce off the white walls and floor.
As for the occupants, it was apparent the men of Hezara, beyond their work, had no hobbies or secondary occupation. Their chief fascination was feeding their appetite for sex. The house was alright, she decided, in the way a hospital room was functional and impersonal. At least it didn’t look like a prison. But how quickly it might feel like one. She closed her eyes and tried to calm those negative thoughts. The end of the journey brought with it renewed anxieties and with no one to talk to about anything, she was acutely aware that there was not a human anywhere near her, she would have to deal with issues on her own.
Her biggest challenge was the most immediate one—how would she cope with the demands of the Hunger? The wait to find out who she would be joining was torturous.
When the door of the habitat slid open, she swiftly took up position and steadied her trembling hands and hid them behind her back. This was it—there was no escaping her destiny.
* * *
“How may I serve you, Masters?” Shayla knelt at the men’s feet. The intimate inspection had caused a furious pounding of her heart against her breastbone. If only they knew how hard it had been to bend and part her legs, much harder than back at the academy where she had been surrounded by her fellow humans and people she trusted.
Jago was the dark-haired one with the broader shoulders and extra height. He had a brightness in his eyes and she felt his gaze pierce her as he spoke. Kriss was lighter in color and build and moved with athleticism and grace. He had an eager expression, an excitement she expected, but there was something else lurking, something that reminded her that the men of Hezara believed in discipline and unswerving obedience.
Jago kicked off his boots. “I shall enter first. Kriss will observe. You will demonstrate your ability to orgasm. It is our desire to see you come hard when we fuck you.”
She was used to masturbating and usually could orgasm with ease, but this promised to be different. She tried to crush her fears and focus on saying the right things. “Will I require permission to come, sir?”
“You will be punished if you don’t ask. However, Kriss and I are in agreement that you are to take pleasure, so don’t hold back. We are aware that some prefer their girl not to come, but we will reserve this for special occasions and more likely when we Hunger the most. Our Hunger is demanding, controlling, you will learn its nature soon.”
Jago pointed at the nearest chair, a rounded seat with a shallow back. “We will do it over this. Do you require to compose yourself prior to my penetration?”
She clasped her hands tight together. Everything was happening so quickly, almost ridiculously so. But, she could do this. This was exactly what she’d been trained to do—sex with an alien—over and over, until her body was exhausted and spent. However, now with the moment approaching, what would it feel like and how would her body would respond? What if she failed to come?
Her hesitation was noted. Jago leaned down and spoke into her ear. “Is this the first time with a man?”
She nodded. “We used... machines. Artificial phalluses attached to pistons,” she whispered, embarrassed by the description of the apparatus, the cold structure of metal and plastic that fucked her every day so that she was ready for this moment.
Kriss exclaimed, using a word she didn’t recognize. “She’s fresh,” he added. “A fresh woman!”
Jago, who seemed unsurprised by her lack of experience with a real person, hooked his arm under hers and helped her to her feet. “This needs to be special. A fresh human needs taking care of. You shall eat and prepare yourself. There is no rush, is there, Kriss?”
Kriss eased his pants up over his hips and shrugged. “Sure. Let’s make her welcome. She needs to know the rules too.” If he was disappointed with the delay, he didn’t show it.
She’d not expected the interruption, but she welcomed it. She needed something that she’d not anticipated from them—tenderness. If they wanted to, they could take her easily and whenever they wished. However, for some reason, she needed them to appreciate she wasn’t their usual sexdroid. She had genuine feelings.
From out of a sealed box, Jago selected a small package and unwrapped it. He offered her two small slabs of protein, no bigger than a small bar of candy, and a ball of something that resembled paste. The slabs were tasteless, but the ball was sweet and juicy, rather like fruit.
“That will give you energy,” he told her. The water fountain erupted into life when he drifted his hands over it and he filled a glass for her. She drank, soothing her paper dry mouth.
“Rules?” she asked.
“Yes,” Jago cocked his head at Kriss. “Kriss will be the enforcer and I will teach you how to behave and look after you. We like to keep things straightforward. Your training is unceasing. We wish for you to learn our habits and how we like to fuck. Kriss prefers to enter you from behind and I will front mount you. As for touching yourself, that is forbidden. You need permission. Your arousal will be controlled by us.”
Kriss relieved her of the empty glass, which seemed to have stuck to the palm of her hand as if glued in place. “As for this place, you may wash and bathe, exercise, and walk the path along the edge of the lake to the next habitat, but no further.”
“No further,” she repeated.
“There is nothing in our home that you cannot touch except for the oracle,” Jago said.
“The oracle?” The thing Alfraya had mentioned just before she left.
“It connects to the repository of knowledge.” He pointed to a globe mounted on a small table. It was no bigger than the span of her hand and had a metallic sheen to the surface. “When you touch it with your hands, you can interrogate it with your mind and it answers you.”
A telepathic computer? Was this where she would find the answers to her questions?
“If you touch it,” said Kriss, edging closer to her, “you’ll be punished
by my hand. A hard spanking, one that will have you not forget.”
She swallowed a lump forming in her throat. It sounded exciting—her little mission—when in transit to Odesta, but now, faced with the reality, she wondered if she had the courage to find out what the Resistance needed to know. Kriss placed his hand on her hip. He had big hands. How hard would they sting if he spanked her? It would be brutal, surely, and humiliating. She didn’t know if she would obey them if they insisted on spanking her. Alfraya implied it was a rare event, something that had only happened to her once—she’d refused to speak about it.
Jago chuckled softly. “She’s still wet, Kriss.” He slid his hand between her thighs and up into her folds, stroking them with his fingertips. He held out his hand for Kriss to see. “See. Our cocks will lubricate her further.”
Shayla closed her eyes and swayed. How long must she wait? Would they do it now or hold off until she was so alight with neediness that she would beg them to take her? She wanted to know, feel it for herself, and experience the remarkable ability of the men of Hezara to stay rejuvenated through multiple orgasms. These men wouldn’t flag when they came, at least not until the day of the Hunger when they would spill their seed. For the time being, the only trickle that would come out of their cocks was the special pre-cum that would keep her lubricated.
“We should touch her,” Jago suggested to his nest brother. “Make her come a few times, then when she is relaxed and biddable, we will claim her.”
“Sounds good to me.” Kriss squeezed her waist. “Hey? Would you like that, little Shayla?”
She was small. So much smaller than them and weaker. There was nowhere to go even if she had changed her mind. If she fought them off, they would have the advantage. This really was it, no more delays, no more prevaricating. She had to open up and be that incredible woman, the one lauded by Earth’s media as a Love Angel, the nickname given to those chosen as Gifts. Except, this had nothing to do with love and she wasn’t an angel. In the back of her mind she was plotting less angelic things.