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Prologue
We all knew what the aliens wanted of us. Their war machine depended on human seedbeds and the soldiers soldiers born from human flesh, soldiers weened upon human lives. We were compatible, that made us valuable, that gave us leverage. They uplifted us from techno-savages to near godhood in the blink of a cosmic eye. They brought an end to famine, strife, and ignorance. They brought an end to what passed for human society as well.
The duty was simple, volunteer and the needs of your closest friends and family would be met. A sick child? Give yourself over, the child would be cured and you would be taken into the depths of a warship never to be heard from again. We became selfless, honorable creatures, sacrifice our only duty. Everyone knew of someone who had given up their lives to help another. Everyone had their own personal Jesus story to tell, a cross borne for them.
My mother had given herself up when I was twelve. Our whole family had met her sire the night before she left. He'd come to pay his respects, to thank us, and to spend a night with those who would lose her. I remember mostly the smell of him, a subtle odor of unfamiliar spices and animal quasi-pleasant animal scents. I understood now that he was well into his rut, eager for a mother, drenched in sexual pheromones. It had affected me deeply at such an age, scarred me you might say, amd made me into the woman I became.
Inhuman Yearnings
I idly twirled the list of requests in my mind as I tallied the day's takings. Mind split between the task at hand and a never ending curiosity… no, the never ending yearning I'd seen in my own mother's eyes all those years ago. There were two large warships in orbit, the exchange of resources was breath taking. So many tons of water, so many tons of minerals in exchange, so many requests for mothers. Each was personal, each a plea for satisfaction denied a soldier.
One read; “It has been seventy three solar orbits since I last felt a mother's touch. I have personally killed thousands, I am the strongest aboard, the fittest, the wisest. My children will be an honor to bare, you would be overjoyed under my deft touch.”
I spun to the next. “I will teach you delights only learned within the darkness between the stars. I will bring pleasure to you beyond imagining. I will cherish you and your gift to me until the last breath drawn, until the light within fades.”
They were all so poetic, so romantic, so desperate. Boast after boast, promise after promise, attempting to outdo one another. I closed my tally ledger and climbed to my feet. Joints popped as I stretched and yawned. Out the window the setting sun glinted off the fleet in orbit. The larger two vessels were like a pair of tiny moons passing overhead, the smaller vehicles that numbered in the tens of thousands were just a smear of glitter in the salmon sky.
“I'm scheduled for a deep space exploration mission. My rut is not yet upon me, however it tracks that it will come some time in the next three years. I require, foremost, a companion to spend the time with until my rut is upon us.” I stopped on that request and considered it. Three years in deep space, alone, with an alien who's only true purpose for me was to spread my legs. No boasts, no tall tales, no claims, no romance.
I brought up his dossier and scanned it. Young, powerfully built, some noteworthy accomplishments in the scout corps. He was just another soldier, just like any other meat head begging for a fuck. Yet… I could imagine myself alone on a ship, trapped, like a rabbit in a snare and the hunter with knife poised to gut. I leaned against the window and slipped my hand down the front of my slacks and into my folds. I was eager for it. The dread of siring, of belonging to another, of having a dark satisfying purpose. I began to masturbate as I stared up into the glitter sky as the twilight shifted towards night, my clothes open and fallen away.
Afterwords, I re-read his request and his dossier. He would suit me, I thought. Before I could double back on my bout of insanity, the contact went through, I submitted my interest, and then tucked myself into bed like a frightened child with covers pulled over my head. He replied just as I was beginning to drift off. His voice was a sweet yet thunderous thing, deep as the earth. “I greet you mother, may I come in so that we may touch?”
Come in, the words echoed through my mind. He hadn't just reached out from the sky, he had come all the way down to meet me face to face. My heart raced, my sex clenched, my chest shook with a tremble of fear and anticipation. “Yes,” I said aloud, voice barely a squeak. I climbed out of bed again, thumbed on a light, and unlocked the door to my chamber. It slid aside and beyond the threshold he stood. He was just as powerful I had judged, regal like a stallion. His muscles flexed and bunched under his shoulders as he strolled straight in toward me.
The scent of him hit me a moment later, so familiar yet utterly alien. Vivid flashes of memory strobed behind my eyes; my mother's face, a patch of scales on the alien that had taken her away, his suave, confident voice.
“You are nude. Unexpected. Was I not clear? I am not in my period of fertility.”
I glanced down at myself, and blushed crimson. I hadn't even thought to throw a gown on. “I… I was asleep, I did not expect your company so soon. Fertile or not, naked or not, I would welcome your touch as I am, as you are. You too are naked, after all.”
He dipped his head from a short, blunt neck that jutted between his shoulders and approached. The door closed behind him as he cleared the threshold. “Accurate. Human custom does not apply to me. Human custom applies to you, only. Do you dispense with human custom entirely?”
The phrase was a contract to be signed, a contract I could not read, a contract I had only the vaguest notions of what it meant. Others had agreed to similar phrases, to go into space with an alien, as an alien, with no human comfort, no social nicety. The poetic phrases and carefully constructed nuance were just that, constructs. They were alien, not human, and not easily understood. I was tempted, so tempted. Only my interest had been waved at him, not my agreement, what would it mean to give up my humanity yet not give him my body? Moisture trickled between my thighs and ran to the back of a knee.
I observed with a quaver in my voice, “That sounds dangerous.”
He stepped closer, the stench of his hide rose in a hot wave from him. It wasn't as pleasant as I remembered, not something that kept me up at night, masturbating all through my teens, a lack of pheromones tailored to human senses. He answered in a voice that shook my bones yet barely graced my ears, a whisper of thunder. “It can be, should I be angry or afraid. I am neither.” The single olfactory entrance between his forward twitched predatory ears gaped a moment, he was smelling me. I continued to blush.
After a moment of silence, “Do you like?” I asked with arms spread, and gestured at myself. His maw opened, a wide, sharp edged grin. Seventeen tongues flickered between even rows of back-angled teeth. They came together in a pointed weave as he leaned in and caressed the bare flesh between my breasts. I shuddered. His touch was near scalding hot and left a trail of rapidly cooling saliva.
“You will suit, yes.” He agreed. He wanted me. Of course he wanted me, humans were a high valued commodity to them, most soldiers would go away without one and empty their reproductive needs into the “properly labeled receptacle” when the need grew too great. I was the rare offering, the precious stone amongst the gravel. I could be choosy, I could decide not to surrender at all. After all, he didn't boast nor promise or even sell himself.
I laid my hand upon his back between his shoulders, and took in the heat of his smooth hide. I ran my fingers back, down the ridge of scales protecting his spine, then forward again to the base of his neck. I could be choosy, but I wasn't. “I give it up, all of it, I don't want to be human any more, I don't want to be a person any more, I don't want anything but you.” I said the words and meant them. I said the words, and felt my hips jerk in response, and bumped my belly against his muzzle.
“Such an eager mother. I appreciate your offer. I am told many go kicking and screaming to their mating bed, even after making their choice.” As he spoke, his head lowered upon his stubby neck, his spine stretched and moved under my fingers. Then as he inhaled my scent once more, his tongue darted out again and tasted me, tasted the sopping wet cleft between my thighs. I gasped aloud and arched onto tip toes and leaned into his heavy front. He licked again and spoke a reverberation into my womb, “So eager. I have been told of mothers like you as well.”
“W-what have you been told?” I asked as his tangled tongue parted into seventeen and swirled between my labia then delved into every part of my womanhood; clit, vagina, and even into the entrance of my urethra.
“That they seek pleasure from the exotic. That they are willing to endure great hardship for the sake of a psychological illness. That they are mad. That they are the most wondrous of finds for a soldier.” He paused, a dozen tongues slithered into my passage, his maw opened wider, rolled outward, teeth pressed into thighs, pubis, and rump. He could have bitten down, opened stomach, and tore my pelvis out in one chomp.
I lost it. I simply lost it. My hips jerked and sex ground down against his tongues and teeth. I gushed into his maw, drenched his tongues in human lust, and clung to him desperate to stay on my feet. The orgasm that rolled through me was nothing like I'd ever experienced before. The brink of danger, the fear, the lust beyond lust. He was right—I was mad—I knew I was mad, I had been mad since that first night as I heard my mother give herself to the alien in our own home. They'd rushed her away then, that night, no goodbye, no last minute hugs and kisses.
“the contract is not complete, yet you surrender yourself. Was I in rut, you would be upon the floor, clutching at your stomach this moment as I bury my spawn within. You understand, yes? This marriage you propose is a marriage of death…” he paused as my orgasm rolled to a climax at his words. “Yes, I see that you do. You mad, foolish human.” He withdrew his muzzle and licked his face dry of my mess.
He stepped back and I fell to my knees before him, trembling. “Yes, yes I do understand. You cannot imagine how long I have waited for your ships to arrive, for the chance to surrender to them. To you.” I looked up at him again, no eyes in his face, but those ears were fixed on me, his nostril open, his tongues bathed in my flavor. “You may not be fertile, but you mentioned some wonder to find my madness. What is it? What is so wonderful?”
He didn't answer, instead he only asked, “Will you sign the contract?”
“Tease,” I muttered, then closed my eyes and let out a deep shuddering breath. The scent of him was stronger now, a hint of bitter orange, sour-sweet, pungent. I licked my lips. To sign was to commit oneself to death. I had no immediate family, few friends, there was no gain in this for anyone but myself and the planet as a whole. My sacrifice would be paid back ten fold, yet there was nothing to compel it of me other than my own desperate curiosity and lust. At last I asked, “May I taste you, as you have tasted me?”
A rumble of laughter filled my small chamber, the window glass shook in its frame. “It is symmetry. Yes, you may taste, without fear of spawn or trampling.”He stepped his hind legs apart in welcoming.
I opened my eyes again while he spoke, and stared under his smooth barrel of a chest. His stomach was a taut drum of hide stretched from chest to pelvis, hollowed inward, with a triangular cleft puckered between his muscular thighs, forward facing against the underside of his tail. I knew next to nothing about alien biology or anatomy, yet I understood that they were similar enough in structure to earth life. Everything I expected to find was in the expected place.
I'd asked for this, dreamed of this. A single puckered cleft. A single orifice into the mysteries of his alien anatomy. Mother had witnessed it open, bloom like a flower, I'd listened to her through the wall with baited breath as she cried in pleasure and then pain soon. She had not fought back, never regretted her choice, even as she screamed… Oh mother, had your sire given you even half as much pleasure?
With a deep, lamentful sigh, I crawled forward under the huge alien and raised my head into the hollow of his stomach. Before my eyes that cleft winked, and glistened and a droplet of moisture oozed free to drool down the cleft toward his tail tip. His vent was long, triangular, and wrinkled. He also smelled foul. I wrinkled my nose, then leaned in and pressed my lips straight to the upper edge of his slightly parted passage, right where that drop had emerged. The bitter stench was strongest there and no longer reminded me of fruit, it was eye watering. I opened my mouth, slipped my tongue out, in, and closed my lips again upon his swelling flesh.
Alien. He tasted alien. You cannot describe alien, not really. Many aromatic compounds are similar to others on earth, many protein molecules identical. The combination though was unique. My stomach clenched in discomfort, even as I pushed my face into him, felt his long cleft part against my lips and then cheeks. The sticky glisten of moisture began to flow in gushes, in time with his winking pulsations, and drool down my naked front. I suddenly knew, this was where I wanted to be from now on. I moaned into his depths and felt his inner flesh shift and bunch.
As if in answer to a prayer, “This is where you will stay, for the rest of your life,” he told me, as if he had read my thoughts. Wrinkles formed against my cheeks, like a nipple hardening, and areola crinkling under your touch, or the wrinkle of fingertips forming in water. Deeper folds formed, and a splatter of thick, gooey something oozed between my lips and gummed up my teeth. I choked, inhaled it, felt it cling to my tongue and throat. I pulled away, or tried, but it was like glue holding me in place, holding me buried within his vent. “Yes, that's right. I will keep you there, keep you pleasuring me until the day my rut comes upon us.” The wrinkles continued to grow, crease, and bunch. The mucous flowed down over my chin, clung to my breasts in long strands. “One orifice or another, it does not matter to me, my spawn will burrow deep and grow strong.
I realized then, as I opened my eyes into the gaping depths of his passage, that the gluey sludge glowed a luminescent blue, that it flowed as if alive, a living amorphous blob. It crawled down my throat, up into my sinuses, through my nose and tear ducts! The glow began to fill my vision, blur it, even as the bitter fluid burned and itched. Deep inside his muscles clenched before my wide eyes, and his whole inner passage unfurled outward, enveloped against my face, glued to it, and began to wriggle back and forth. As it squirmed against me, my jaw was forced apart and the wrinkled flesh bulged and squirmed into and between my open lips.
Yes, this was what I wanted! I wanted to be used, I wanted to be a thing, a possession. I began to masturbate furiously as his inner flesh worked its way between my teeth and glued itself to the inside of my mouth. Was this what had happened to mother? Had the beast glued her to himself, and walked away with her dangling between his thighs like cum soaked sock? I moaned aloud, air bubbled through his folds, past my cheek, and exited near my ear. How would I breathe? I didn't care, not really, though my lungs began to burn for it.
More of his inner passage emerged, wrinkled and hard against my throat as he reached it. I stretched for him, just a little, and he worked his way down as I continued to finger myself. I wanted desperately to climax before I passed out, before I was discarded forever. Had mother climaxed? I couldn't recall any deeper moans, before she began to cry, then scream. I couldn't cry, I couldn't scream. My tear ducts were plugged, my throat was packed. I couldn't breathe! Something was pumping from him, thick and sluggish, right down my throat. My stomach forcefed.
Pleasure rolled through me, then peaked, and I lost control. I dangled from his under-tail by my face, knees spread open, hands and knees unable to find purchase and slipped aside in the puddle of his and my fluids. The glue held, I was trapped. My orgasm rolled on and on as stars speckled behind my eyes and darkness crept in. A grin was plastered over my lips around the huge intrusion of alien sex organ, glued open, affixed to his innards. I'd succeeded in finding my peak!
As if a lightswitch was thrown, the glue turned dark and lost it's adherance. I fell to the floor, face first in that filthy puddle. I coughed, gasped, and heaved. Foul slime poured up my throat, filled my sinuses, and stained my tongue. It tasted no different, but now, now as I lay in the afterglow under him, it felt so foul, I felt so filthy, so… used.
“Yes,” I gasped at last, “please, I want to stay there!” I didn't know how I would breathe, I couldn't know how it would feed, I hadn't known anything. It didn't matter. I wanted to spend the rest of my days, throat packed with alien lust until the day his rut came, until the day I felt him erupt down my throat and his spawn take root.
“You will, mother mine, you will,” he spoke with a hushed rumble that sounded… exhausted? “Soon, and for many years.” He also sounded pleased. No, he sounded down right enthralled. My heart skipped a beat and tears prickled at my eyes, pushing their way past alien mucous.
“Thank you, oh thank you!” I rasped, then desperately climbed to my hands, then knees, then kissed the inside of wrinkled slit that had just befouled my every sense. I was mad, my stomach still recoiled around the mass he'd left in me. My nose and eyes burned, my tongue had shriveled in disgust, and my loins still throbbed with lust.
I reached up to caress his beautiful entrance. I could feel the gaping orifices that dotted it, hundreds of them, tucked into each deep fold. He shuddered above me, and his inner extrusion began to glow again as blue sludge oozed from each, filled the wrinkled crevices, then drooled down over my hands. They stuck in place. I stared into it and could just barely make out the infintesimally small and glowing hairs that bound my fingers. From the inner flesh a violet cloudy sludge oozed into my palm as his hips shuddered. He rumbled a wordless noise, felt more than heard, a tacit agreement.
Furniture
Inhuman, baggage. I was nothing more than a sack of grain tossed from place to place until I was at last affixed where I belonged. Affixed was accurate, I was a fixture in his acceleration couch, a piece of the furniture made solely to serve a function. No one spoke to me, no one spoke around me, no one treated me as anything other than furniture. I slept four times before my inhuman purpose was realized. Before my sire came to me at last.
“Mother,” He said, and jarred me from my slumber. “It is time for us to depart, for us to join. You will never again leave me, never be apart from me. Is this truly what you desire? Is this all the payment necessary for the great satisfaction you will give me and our children?”
I was embedded in the gel of his acceleration couch, packed in and immobile except for my arms. My legs were spread, my head was tilted back, and I was fully exposed. I'd masturbated repeatedly over the last few days, about all that had kept me occupied. My sex was raw and red now, swollen from over stimulation and abrasion.
“Will you also give me pleasure on occasion?” I asked, hopeful but not expectant.
He flexed his mouth, teeth rasped on teeth, tongues flicked in a twirl. I could not read such expressions, of course, I had no idea what emotions, if he had emotions, stewed behind that eyeless gaze. “I do enjoy your flavor, mother. Your smell. Everything about you makes my blood boil and bowels ache for spawn.” He climbed over the couch and slowly settled himself down, though he did not tuck himself over my face, not yet. “Yes, mother, I will give you pleasure when it might amuse me.” He paused a moment as I gazed up into his dry triangular pucker, the last and only thing I would ever see. “Are you sure this is the orifice you wish me to mate with? We will hold no conversations throughout the years that follow, I will never leave this couch, or your mouth while you yet live. Is that your desire?”
Inhuman, it was inhuman, worse than solitary confinement. But… I wasn't human anymore, I had become furniture, a seed bed. I shuddered violently, tried and failed to arch my back. I was firmly affixed, glued skin to gel, it only flexed slightly. “Yes,” I said at last, “I serve a greater purpose. Anyway, I would not please you to speak, I have no great wit, I am not wise, I am not even humorous. My mouth should only be used for one purpose.”
“Or two,” he said after a slight pause. The couch activated, contacts were made with his body, and mine. A soft gel tube slithered up my nose and down my throat, growing as it moved until it reached my lungs. Up the other nostril a second tube, down my throat, to my stomach. Between my legs the couch had already penetrated my bowel and urethra days ago. I waited, watching as patches formed where the contacts touched him, waited for the one to reach his own backside. It never came. Slowly he settled over me, nestled my face into his cleft, and began to relax and unfurl.
Or two, he had said. Oh… oh no. I shuddered in revulsion as I realized his intent. Then climaxed, helplessly. I was a fixture, part of his couch, part of his… his waste disposal. His inner flesh clenched, his wrinkled pucker opened, and I stared up into the yawning chasm of his bowels. The climax rolled through me as I felt my stomach heave. No vomit climbed up my throat, though the tube within it pulsed briefly.
He held himself wide open, legs spread over the couch to either side. I could see those small ducts, winking from black to blue as his adherant fluids and fibers began to flow free. As his inner flesh wrinkled, clenched, and descended over my face. He emerged at last, unrolled like an inside out sock, and the first sticky glob of living, mobile mucous squirmed across my cheek. It clung, it crawled, and worked it's way in between my lips. Before it was too late, I told him once and only once, with desperate abandon, “I love you!” and then his wrinkled pucker pushed between my willingly opened jaws and glued into my mouth. Blue slime gushed over me, filled my nose, my eyes, my mouth. Faint Bitter orange scent became overwhelming bitterness, foul scents and flavors, disgusted me. My stomach heaved, my tongue recoiled, his ventral eversion slid past it, toward the back of my throat.
For the second time, and final time, his alien bowels penetrated me and were glued in place. I was part of him, subservient to him, slave to his biological needs. My throat stretched, bulged. I brought a hand to my neck and felt it as the intensely hot ventral flesh as it unrolled inside of me, toward my voice box then beyond. He stopped short of my stomach, stopped with just an inch or so of esophagus remaining. I took a deep breath, air came via nasal tube, cold and clean, yet my nose burned and tingled with filthy alien mucous packed inside.
“Oh that is wondrous indeed,” he sighed aloud, like wind and thunder. His wrinkled flesh relaxed slightly, throbbed, and a gush of wet hit the bottom of my epiglottis. Pressure built, pain, then I swallowed and my stomach filled with a gurgling gush of his alien waste. “I had a great need to relieve myself, for hours now. This is so much more pleasant than a catheter. I do not know if you knew this would be your fate, but I thank you for the gift of it.” He didn't answer my desperate words, and I felt devastated.
Tears did not flow, though my chest rose and fell with silent sobs. I hated it, I loved it. I'd done this to myself, I'd wanted this, to be a thing, to be used. I still wanted it, still loved it, and I hated it so—so very much. I wept hard in silence. My throat clenched swallowed, heaved and shuddered, and pleased him. My tongue pushed back and forth, but could not free itself from his glue. I was his now, forever. Another orgasm ripped through me as the true realization sank home. This… this was going to be the entirety of the rest of my life. My stomach clenched, cramped, and complained as it slowly digested the “meal” he had fed me.
The ship began to move. Sharp turns, rolls, alignments, then followed great acceleration, a few slight adjustments, and more acceleration. “We are on our way Mother,” he told me, and I responded with a gentle swallow and a caress of his hip, that was the best I could accomplish. He responded by voiding himself again into my aching stomach. I continued to weep and squirm in miserable pleasure. Mad. I was mad. Mad and entirely enthralled.
Motherhood
I didn't really remember who I was anymore. There were vague memories of earth, a fixation on a mother that I wasn't, that I had become, but hadn't been. Mother was a figure I worshiped, mother was soon to be me. I didn't know who I was anymore, but I knew what I was. Sire taught me, bit by bit, day by day, year by year. His rut was late, he blamed it on the continuous pleasure, on the numerous satisfying things I had done to him. Yet, at last, it was here. He told me not to be afraid, but I had never been afraid to begin with.
I could feel it, taste it. His flavor had mellowed weeks ago, spicy and sweet instead of bitter. I barely remembered other flavors. That flavor had shocked me after so long, a memory so intense, so sharp, yet so forgotten. I had tasted the flavor before. After that other mother had been taken away from me, I'd come to her room, witnessed the huge puddle of mingled fluids upon the bed, streaks of red blood, smears of pale blue, clots of brown. I'd swirled my fingers through it, up to the second knuckle, and pressed them between my lips. I had tasted that mother's wedding bed, and dreamed of my own.
Fluid gushed in great gulps toward my stomach. My muscles no longer bothered to work, my stomach hung open, filled as he needed. I had purpose, I served. The feel of it was different. Slippery yet clotted, wads of mucous tangled with splashes of mating fluids, lubricants that assisted. It was nearly time, I could feel the movement in his phallus, subtle shifts, bulges raised and lowered, and the continuous swelling. My jaw had popped days ago, unhinged. Pain suppressant had been applied, yet it still felt broken and wrong. My throat had torn horribly, but the fleshy glue held everything together.
With a final rumbled cry, Sire bid to me, “Farewell mother, I thank you from the depths of my being for the wondrous service you have provided. I will never meet another mother as mad or generous as you, I am sure.” He paused then to let out a thunderous roar, then voiced words I had forgotten yet yearned for, “I too, love you.” Then, with another cry, his hips jerked down and his everted phallus opened up pores in a hundred places. A seventeen rings of seventeen orifices tucked into wrinkles bulged open, and his writhing swarm of spawn emerged.
I felt them slither, long thin and muscular, down my throat. They passed through the glue as if it were water, wriggled beyond the end of his bowel, and shot straight for my stomach. Another wave emerged shortly before the first arrived in my depths, then another followed on it's tail. With each wave of wriggling life, he roared in pleasure and satisfaction. Then the pain began before the fourth wave as the spawn reached my stomach lining. They began to burrow outward, into my fat swollen flesh through my stomach and intestines. Stomach lining parted before the tiny back facing teeth as they chewed through and reached for my nutritious viscera and vital organs. I was a human, a perfectly compatible host, and I'd spent half a decade growing fat and delicious. They thrived.
I did not notice the fifth, but I began to struggle as the sixth wave of larva began to emerge then burrow straight into my throat. I could feel spawn squirming through the fat and muscle of my stomach, into the tissue of my breasts, up my shoulders toward the meat of my arms. I wept—tearless—as I endured the agonizing miracle of birth. Trails of fire burned across my stomach as they fed, as they squirmed down my inner and outer thighs. I did not last long.
There were no more releases after the sixth. The deflated and spent alien above me, slowly withdrew. I stared up into his wrinkled cleft as the drooping flesh pulled from my gaping jaws. Darkness crept at the edge of my vision, I couldn't breathe. Why couldn't I breathe? I tried, but my lungs did not obey, did not move. My stomach bulged and writhed at the bottom edge of my vision. I could see the blood red trail of a larval worm as it made it's way from navel up, toward my right breast. Feeding as it passed.
I looked up again, Sire's cloaca had withdrawn nearly entirely, his rut over, his pleasure at it's end. I… I was at my end. I closed my eyes and failed to smile. I couldn't move my jaw. Tears however sprang to my eyes for the first time in years, it felt good. I felt—satisfied—at long last.