Thirst

Breasts aching, her hips ground down as if, like his tentacles, they had a mind of their own. The pressure, the pleasure, and milk began to run in heavy rivulets, sticky and smelling of subtle sweetness. It made a mess of her as she rode the very creature responsible for her view of space, freedom from the endless sensory deprivation that had driven her half insane… the great beast that would be the end of any future she had designed and worked hard to achieve.

And she came, from her own body’s work, crying out, red hair flying back.

“My beautiful pet desires flange?” That organ went from docile to fierce. “Then flange she shall be given. No other beast is quite so brave.”

What had been the closest to human fucking she’d thus far experienced with this creature turned all alien, all tentacles, all sensory overload and endless orgasmic euphoria.

Blue squished between them, and though she was sore, though her thighs were bruised, though she was hungry, she bore it.

Laid back on the flight console, she bore all of what he might dump into her, how he might sucker her skin, drink from her breasts, and cry out praise when that vile organ he shoved in her expanded beyond normal proportions, twisted, planted, and deposited a baby in her body.

A baby flavored by her.

That would devour her organs and cause a horrid death if not removed.

He cried out when attachment was made, held her a bit too hard. “How you make my flange kick! A fortune shall be made off your fuck sleeve!”

The larva, huge and vulgar, moved down his flange as he birthed it into her body.

For the first time she felt what was in her. Not triangular tipped flange, but spawn. This one refusing to be still, already twisting too near her cervix as its little spikes dug in. “It hurts!”

Head hanging back, throat bared as if she was in no way a threat to so tender a spot, the beast enjoyed his bliss. “A strong one! For that you shall have an extra reward.”

If that blasted thing didn’t kill her first.

Out went that damned organ, a river of blue behind it. Evangeline pressed her hands to her pussy, refused to see her belly move as that thing inside her moved, and ran from the room to the special seat that would instigate removal.

The alien followed, crossing his arms and stretching his tentacles to see her sit on the extraction device and whine when the process was too slow. Evangeline delivered it. Saw it packaged for whatever was to be done with it. And saw no baby of hers in that thing.

Red was this one. Solid red with nary a stripe or spot.

No comforting green.

“You have made an elite warrior from my seeding.” Patting her head with a great hand, he added, “I am pleased with you, fine pet.”

Blue, so much blue on her fingertips when she slumped off the device and cupped her aching place. She had to out think this, to remember why tentacles and orgasms were tied to larva that ate it’s laying place. She needed space to breathe. “I am cold, and I need soft things on which to rest. You are not soft. Where can I sleep?”

/> Dragging his eyes from his squirming spawn in its storage sleeve, Glabrx, had he eyebrows, would have raised them. “Your body requires heat. This ship is too cold for your safety. You must always be touching me. My body is where you sleep, eat, and function.”

“And pee?”

“Waste shall be seen to when your internal monitors alert me to such a need.”

What the fuck? “I need a place to bed down. You might lie beside me, but humans cannot sleep on other beings.” And privacy, she needed a moment alone before she went mad. “Or you might give me clothing? Where is the toilet?”

“Clothing?” Arms crossed over a chest so well defined, steroid users on Earth would worship his form. “Your form is appealing, and I wish to look at it. The state of your flesh is a sign of my honor. Others will see there are no marks and laud me. To cover it would be to tell the world I am incompetent. There will be no clothing for you, pet.”

But bruises were there, between her thighs, and lewd as it might be, Evangeline parted her legs to show him. “I am marked. Damaged was the word you used. A fragile human. A Class One pet. Who needs a bed and a toilet!”

Fluid, legs bending backward, the creature crouched, eyes a lashes blink from her bruised skin. And then it rattled. Not only vocally. An earthquake like tremor went through all its parts, all its tentacles. Even the flapping flange coughed out a sad squirt of blue before retracting.

That fucking thing could retract! She’d had a strangle hold on it for hours, and it could retract? Not only was she bruised, aching, overwhelmed, and hungry, she was also pissed off.

Everyone had their breaking point and that was hers. “I want my bath. I want food. You promised to care for me! Am I not a protected species? I gave you an elite warrior?”

And all of her tirade was so incredibly stupid that on a primal level she realized punishment would follow, but so far out of her depth, all Evangeline might wield as a weapon against this beast was throwing his promises in his face. And adding on for good measure, she pulled her blue stained fingers from her pussy and flung his fluids on the ground, “Your manual is fucking garbage.”

“Did you just use foul language in my presence, pet?”