Page 1 of Bred By Zyros
Prologue
Theywarnedus,well,warned the generations before us anyway. Ones who made the laws and ignored the signs, knowing they’d never live long enough to see the fallout of the decisions they did and did not make. By the time someone decided to listen, it was far too late. Too late for humanity and definitely too late for Earth. Our planet was dead, a husk of flooded, crisp land, storms that would decimate settlements and wipe out family lines. Now? We’re scattered among the stars, beggars to planets that will have us, and parasites to planets that won’t. Safe to say humans are at an all-time low. We found Terra2, sure, but where we were once eight billion two hundred fifty million four hundred twenty-three thousand sixhundred thirteen strong…now? Humanity is in the millions, low millions and dwindling rapidly. Poverty, disease and hunger, and desperation keep the slightly heavier air of Terra2 tainted with the type of smell that makes you wrinkle your nose and breathe through your mouth. Our only real entertainment comes in the form of hazy old Earth media or when one of us is lucky enough to get off-world.
We’re desperate, outnumbered, objectively kind of dumb, and valuable.
The trillions of highly advanced alien races know this.
We know this.
Moms, dads, sons, but especially…daughters know this.
You see, for all our rapid fall from grace, humans are still good for a few things, things that keep us dangling just off the edge of extinction. Easy labor, entertainment, occasionally, horrifically food, but most of all breeding.
Aliens of various kinds have long established breeding agencies, some accredited by the Intergalactic Alliance, others not so much. But humans, we turned the industry on its head. Overpopulation was just one of the many nails in our planet’s proverbial coffin, but now? Now it’s that very ability to populate that just might save us.
one
Zyros
My scales slip across the warm rocky floor, irritation and rage only barely masked behind my schooled features as the scent of the females that live within the springs invades my nose. It shouldn’t fill me with apprehension; it should make my cocks swell and venom fill my fangs, instinct riding me, urging me to choose one. It does none of those things; it hasn’t in a great many orbits.
“Zyros, you were summoned three solars ago, yet you only show yourself now.”
I don’t bother with a response, my claws digging into my palms instead. She doesn’t want one from me. I am meant to be quiet even when it feels like a snapdrake plant has my chest within its jaws.Especiallythen. Unfortunately for her, I have rarely been successful in holding my tongue.
“Your birth moon will only get you so far if you continue with your needless acts of defiance.” I can hear her moving closer,picture her fiery crimson and golden scales long before they enter my field of vision. The teal strands of my hair have long fallen into my face, dashing her striking colors with blue. “The rainy season is coming. Enough stalling.”
A warning hiss escapes my throat as her hand darts out, gripping my chin, slamming my head toward the rows of females lounging on heated rocks around the spring, their cunning, arrogant eyes tracking, consuming my flesh like any predator worth their wit. “They are beautiful, yes? You have your pick, yet you remain a very selfish male. You dishonor them and their sacrifice, time and time again.”
I jerk my chin from her, gritting my teeth as her claws gore and slice the tender flesh at my chin. When my head swivels to meet her eyes, it’s with all the contempt festering inside me.Orbitsof contempt, of hate so ripe it rivals any venom. I let her see it.
It will make no difference.
Like every season, I will choose. I will be forced to mate.
Another child will be born too early, too quiet.
“Nyth'sss,” she curses, baring her fangs. “Enough of this! You will choose, and we will bring a child into this village.”
“It has never—”
Her deafening hiss rises above my voice, the hisses of the others joining her in a rattling melody of vitriol. When her tail snaps into my side, making a flare of agony erupt there, I am ready, but I do nothing.
I take the hit.
It’s what’s expected of me.
I am a tool, after all.
A sack of seed.
It does not matter that I am bigger, nor stronger, nor more filled with hate than even the most vengeful of goddesses. I am a male.
A male who was born with a special coloration, under a moon reserved only for the birth of priestesses. A male who is robbed of his birthright to commune with the gods because I have a cock and is of little use elsewhere. It’s that, that singular thought that solidifies my choice, a stupid, stupid choice that will surely end terribly for everyone involved. A smirk fills my face before I lift my head, staring at the females the way they like, as if I would choose again, as if I could endure another season of it.
As if I wouldn’t rather die than lie with another of my kind.
“You’re right, I was chosen by the gods,” I hiss. They make no attempt to lay themselves out, to parade or flaunt. They don’t have to. It is by divine right that I wasbornto fix us—to save our people from dying out. At least, that’s what the elders told everyone to explain why the gods would allow a male to be born under a divine moon. No little ones have made it to their first breath since me…a male blessed. It’s surely a sign I must be used. Right? I almost believed the priestess at first. I bought into it the first ten times.
