Page 7 of Bred

She is out of place here, and the strangeness is too much for her. A mind cannot easily process events so far outside its frame of reference. We are careful to avoid this kind of shock. In some species, it is enough to cause death. I do not think this one will pass away from her fear, but when I put her in the grip necessary to reset her panicked system, her body lost control.

I have already ordered this room synthesized in order to keep her in familiar surroundings. Our own quarters would be far too strange for her to fathom, and likely increase the stress that is causing her pulse to hammer and the skin of her face to flush bright red.

Our records indicate that being semi-submerged in warm water is comforting to humans, as well as being a convenient means of cleaning them. I urge her toward the bath, stripping the wet suit from her body as she goes. She seems unable to undress herself, frozen by shame and fear. This is a pity. If I had met her on her planet, we would be having a very different encounter, but this is what it is. She came to me and now I must take care of her. The outer coverings were deceptive, I soon discover. She has a curvaceous body, ample and delicious. When my fingers make contact with her skin, I find her to be impossibly soft. Her flesh is delicate and so tender. I was gentle with her anyway, but now I realize I must be even more so. These humans are fragile. The first officer to mate one mentioned that, and recommended we use an injectable stabilizing compound to fortify them for copulation.

Before she enters the water, I inspect her carefully. She is standing with her legs pressed firmly together, twisted at the hips in a pose that makes the most of the smooth curve of her rear. I find that part of her particularly appealing. Reaching out, I trace the tips of my fingers down the small of her back. She’s firm there, but when I reach the curve of her bottom, she becomes even more delectably soft. My fingers curve around the globe and I feel a spark of desire rush through me.

Her skin is pale in places, but red in others. Her hair is dark and glossy, very, very soft, and entirely without defense. No aggressive needle-flinging filaments like some species. Her skin is equally soft and without protection. She is pure prey, aside from the singular feature of front-facing eyes, which always suggest a predatory evolutionary path.

It is a miracle that human survived so long on this planet, let alone managed to become the dominant sentient species. Our historical findings indicate that they were preyed on by a range of fearsome creatures for much of their formative years. No trace of those predators remains. They have wiped the planet clean.

When we made our initial expedition here, we had some doubts about breeding with humans. They are a simple creature with almost nothing in the way of natural offensive or defensive features. My first officer describes them as flesh bags, and he is right, but they are flesh bags who happen to also be some of the most efficient planetary dominators we’ve ever seen.

This one is a very pretty bag of flesh. Her eyes are wide and brown, her hair is a similar hue and long. It was tied up at first, but several strands have escaped their ties and now swing over her shoulders.

Her breasts are another fascinating feature of her body. I reach out to cup one and find that it has a pleasing feel in my hand, again it is soft but firm. Humans are one of very few species with perpetually engorged mammary glands. Most milk-producing creatures are only full when they have milk, but this one is obviously unbred.

I enjoy mating all females, but occasionally I encounter one who does more than merely arouse my physical mating instinct. It’s rare. What is even more rare is finding myself in the presence of such a female and having those tender impulses overcome the base desire to spend my seed. Usually, at this stage of undress, I would be cock deep in a female, feeling her flesh accommodate me.

I am not a soft man or a gentle man. I am not a caretaker. I am a warrior, a leader, and I have spread my seed across six galaxies. I am father to millions, but in this moment copulation is far from my mind. Strange for me. No encounter with an alien female has ever been for any purpose other than ensuring she is well seeded.

I put her clothes into the recycling hatch. She won’t need them anymore. She stands next to me, whimpering and blushing all the way from her toes to the roots of her hair. It’s a curious human phenomenon, which we noticed when the first female was mated. She became exceptionally pink during the climactic portion of the mating. This one is far redder. Interestingly, she is showing many of the signs of human arousal even though she seems to be in distress. Is there some kind of dual purpose for these signals? Do humans link humiliation and arousal? It is possible. I sit her down on the edge of the bath, put my hands to her thighs and spread them.

She makes a small cry of protest, but I am merely looking, not touching. I see the soft down of her slit, the outer lips puffy with desire, the inner ones gleaming. My inseminator begins to engorge. I could push myself up inside that delicate hole, feel her flesh wrapped around mine. I could destroy her with rough thrusts of my hardness—but I do not. I hold back from the edge of mating madness and I slide her back into the warm water.

* * *

Lyra

Naked. Shamed. Bathed by an alien.

I’m grateful for the opportunity to clean myself, but the strangeness is continuing in a way that makes my head spin. I look at him with that same mixture of curiosity and fear as he runs his finger over my cheek. I can feel the disparity in strength between our frames. He is hard and powerful. I suspect more than calcium is the main component of his skeletal structure. This is a man engineered for pure power. What I wouldn’t do for a fragment of bone to analyze. I’m imagining something like a titanium alloy, or maybe something we haven’t discovered yet.

It’s a strange thought to have in this situation, but the mind does odd things under pressure. I am naked, exposed, captive. I have lost my dignity, but I still have my mind. The preparation to work in the space force is arduous. I sat through more advanced chemistry classes than I could count. We weren’t just being prepared to zoom around the atmosphere. We were being trained as potential astronauts. We’re scientists as well as law enforcement, and right now my mind is taking refuge in the science of the thing.

I stare at him, trying to take him all in. His armored uniform makes it difficult to get a true sense of his body, but I’m glad it is on. It gives me some kind of protection against what he really is, a solid layer between me and alien flesh.

“What is your name?” The question slips out. I need to call him something, even if it is just in the privacy of my own mind.

“Captain Talon,” he says. “I would have introduced myself more formally, but you seemed to be on a kamikaze mission.” He smirks again, flashing sharp incisors and I feel a tremor run through me. Talon suits him perfectly as a name, sharp and predatory just like him.

He sits back, his massive form so out of place next to the tub, and he watches me with a strange mix of what feels like lust and intellectual interest. I feel as though my every move is being observed.

“Why are you looking at me?”

“Is it uncommon to be looked at in the bath?”

“It’s uncommon to have a bath in a spaceship with a fully armored male sitting next to me.”

“Ah,” he nods. “Our scans of your species didn’t indicate anything in the way of predatory potential. No hidden claws or poison glands. No reinforced skulls. So I suppose this should be safe enough.”

With that he stands up and steps out of his armor. The heavy plates disengage from his legs and arms and the heavy torso guard slips free with a pneumatic sound.

I expect him to be smaller once he is free of it. The armor is obviously large and probably heavy. He could have a much lighter frame underneath it all. As the last piece of his armor comes away from him, Talon takes a deep breath andexpands.

“Holy...”

“The armor is tight,” he explains, stretching long muscular arms out.

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