Page 7 of Bad Beehavior

She puts her hand into my container, placing a small bowl with water inside. She says something to me before shutting the top again.

I’ve missed my chance. I could change back into my larger form and destroy the surrounding confinement, but that would alarm the woman, and I don’t want to start the mission, causing a stir.

She must sleep. The Blue Planet has similar cycles to mine, so I know it will eventually darken outside. That’s when our species sleeps; I imagine it’s the same for hers. I just need to wait until she’s asleep to escape; then, I can continue my mission and find the perfect target. My stomach drops realizing this will be the last day I see this female. I hope the rest of this species has the same effect on me as this one has. Fertilizing a female will be much easier if I crave being around her.

Chapter 6: Baryx

Hours pass like seconds as I watch the female. She shuffles around her living space with purple fuzzy-looking coverings on her feet, moving back and forth from her bed and a chair. She mostly stares at a square handheld electronic device that must be used for entertainment. She doesn’t talk to me much, but she turns on a screen on her wall that streams voices into the room. This must be another form of entertainment for her, even if she looks more at her handheld device than the screen.

The voices develop a pattern, and my brain connects the similarities. After only a few hours, I’m certain that I’ve learned their language perfectly. It will be much easier to coax these females with language. Maybe this isn’t what I imagined for the start of my mission, but it hasn’t been wasteful. I’ve learned more about their species and have been spared from harm.

As I suspected, the star outside the window creeps down the horizon, making the female’s room a swirl of shadows and colors. It’s getting darker, and I can sense the woman settling.

She walks to a door parallel to me. The small room holds fabrics hanging from a rod and a wooden container with fabrics puffing out of the opening. The female squats to her knees and pulls out a gray piece of fabric before turning to me and pulling the purple cover on her chest over her head. She fidgets behind her back until a small white material falls from her, revealing peach, fleshy breasts.

My heart stops in my chest, and a buzz sings throughout me. I’ve seen other species with breasts, but nothing like these. They appear soft, and as she unbuckles the article of clothing on her lower half and pulls them down her legs, her breasts jiggle as if made of some buoyant substance. She’s naked, except for a thin, lacey fabric covering her sex.

My species doesn’t wear clothing. Our fuzz covering protects us from the elements, and our stingers remain inside of our bodies except when used for pollination. Right now, my stinger pulsates as if begging to be released. My body has never had this reaction before. It’s almost like I can’t control myself and have fallen back into some primitive evolutionary species.

I lean against the plastic, trying to get as close to the female as possible to watch as she runs her hands over her abdomen. One of her hands trails up to her breast while the other dips below the small fabric down below. Her eyes droop and her mouth forms a lazy O.

My antennas sense she’s aroused, but from what? There’s no other male species in the room with her except me. Could my presence be affecting her like this? The thought sends another vibration through my body, and before I can control myself, my stinger hardens with blood and pulses out in front of me.

Her eyes open and she stares at me before grabbing the gray fabric that she dropped near her feet, covering her chest, and rushing toward me.

Can she sense my erection? Embarrassment and arousal rush through my veins, and I’m about to transform into my larger form to show her just how impressive my stinger truly is when she reaches past my prison.

She grabs a string, and a covering slowly falls over the glass window behind me. For a moment, her breasts nearly press against my container. Her nipples are a blush pink that matches her lips, and for some odd reason, I want to put them in my mouth. Other species use breasts to feed their offspring. Is it the same case for these females? Do these females use their nipples as a means of reproduction? Why else would they have this effect on me?

With her standing this close, her arousal curls into my container, blinding my senses. I’ve never sensed anything so sweet and intoxicating. I’m sure if I drank her scent, I’d become drunk and delirious.

She moves away from me, and my stomach tightens in distress. It’s like she holds some sort of oxygen that my lung craves, and her absence leaves me empty.

Maybe the attack damaged some part of my antennas. This female must be my perfect match. Why else would she be having this effect on me?

Before I can contemplate my situation for much longer, the female crawls onto her bed. The material sinks where she applies her body weight, and I imagine it must be as soft as her skinlooks. Oh, how I wish to roll around in her colorful fabrics with her body tangled in with mine.

The female lies on her back, abandoning her gray fabric and lying almost entirely naked. She reaches into a cabinet at the side of her bed, pulling out a red object that resembles a plant I saw on this planet—one of those tiny species was drinking from. She presses a button on the back of the object, and it vibrates to life—much like I vibrate. She brings the vibrating object to her core, removing the thin material covering her.

If I thought her scent was arousing before, now I can barely contain myself. Before I know what I’m doing, my stinger is in my hand, and I’m stroking myself slowly. Drips of my honey fall from my tip, and a small part of my brain curses myself for even letting this small amount go to waste. I’ve never experienced this sensation before. Arousal has only been something I’ve learned about at the Academy. I know this is somewhat how I should feel before fertilizing a female, but I never expect it to overpower my senses, to make me feel so full and so empty at the same time.

This can’t be right. It’s not supposed to be this overwhelming.

It must be these Blue Planet females. They’re more powerful than we thought. I’m unsure if this is positive or negative for our mission, but I can’t contemplate it now. All I can do is stare at her as she spreads her legs and brings the object through her glistening folds.

The object has a small bud at the top that flicks back and forth. She brings it to the hood of her sex, and her body tenses. She arches her back—her breast rising high in the air, and her nipples harden more than before. Moans spill from her lips, and she closes her eyes.

My stinger hardens more than I thought possible, and I increase the tempo of my strokes, watching as she presses the object against herself—her moans increasing in volume.

It’s obvious she’s pleasuring herself, much like I’ve seen the male Forphias perform on themselves. I’ve never witnessed this act done by a female, but as I watch, I can’t imagine anything more intoxicating. The fact that these species have erected an entire civilization when something as wonderful as this exists is a marvel. No wonder they’re so behind in their evolution.

The females of these planets must hold all the power. A male would be a pile of mush in their presence, as I feel right now.

My antennas sense she’s on the brink of something, and I want to slow my strokes to witness it, but before I know it, my testicles tighten, and my body shutters as if I’m being rung out. A wave of pure pleasure rushes over me, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. Stars explode throughout my body, but I can’t take my eyes away from her. Honey erupts from my stinger, and I don’t stop stroking myself until I’m empty.

The female raises herself to one elbow, her other hand not leaving her core as she yells out—this cry louder than the rest. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life, and I don’t look away until her body softens and she rests back against her bed, panting.

She must have completed her pleasure much like I have. I look down at the sticky golden liquid before me. Even though I’m in my smaller form, it’s a sizeable amount. From example projections in the Academy, I don’t remember so much spilling out of a pollinator. I wonder if something else is wrong with me—something that would make this waste of pleasure even more wasteful.

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