Page 57 of Bred

“Fuck, no. I’ve had hundreds of those down on Earth.”

“We’ll do our own. It’s hard to get records from semi-sentient societies who don’t value intergalactic communication.”

“Did he just call me semi-sentient?”

“It’s just so we know you’re alright,” Talon says. “No need to worry.”

“I’m not worried, I’m refusing.”

“That’s not an option,” Shank snaps. “We don’t know what condition you’re in. We don’t even know that you are still you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You could be some kind of cosmic double, or you could have been engineered by Earth teams to infiltrate our ship, or...”

“Go fuck yourself,” I growl. “I know who I am, and if you don’t like it, you can get fucked.”

“Easy,” Talon interjects, his big hand on my arm. “It’s her, Shank. I have no doubt of that.”

“The woman we sent down was nearly brain dead,” Shank replies. “A recovery was not likely. And here she is, conveniently without memory. She...”

Sploosh!

That’s the sound of my milkshake hitting his face.

“Being without memory isn’t convenient, you asshole. It’s awful. And if you don’t believe me, you can fuck right the fuck...”

He grabs me. With four arms. One hand for each of my limbs. It’s surprisingly efficient and completely impossible to escape as I am hauled over the table and manhandled over his thighs, still screaming at him, not that it matters, because he’s not listening anyway.

“I told you about the disrespect,” he growls.

“I don’t owe you respect. You’re an asshole.”

His response is to take one of his palms and start spanking my ass hard and fast, hard slaps catching my cheeks with punishing heat. The suit offers little to no protection and soon I am cursing and kicking and calling him every name under the sun, as well as over it.

“You do not throw things at me just because you do not like what I am saying. How would you like it if you were in a coma on your planet and we flew off with an impostor? Or if you were sick, and we did not treat you for it?”

“Or if you just didn’t act like a huge dick! I heard them confirm my genetics in the transport bay.”

“It’s true,” Talon interjects.

“See! I’m me! Now let me the fuck up!”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Shank says. “You’re not coming aboard this ship and starting chaos. If I have to remind you how to behave, I’ll do it.”

He starts spanking me again, occasional drips of milkshake dropping from his chin onto my ass, where they are slapped into the seat of my suit.

“This is a ship of order and discipline. You will follow orders given to you without question and certainly without attitude.”

“No, I fucking won’t!”

I did not come all this way, do all the things I did just to bow down to some four-armed freak.

“Talon! Make him stop!”

“He’s responsible for ship discipline,” Talon says. “And you threw your drink in his face. Why don’t you try apologizing.”

“Fuck, no!”

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