Page 39 of Bred

Standing my ground, I let it come. It is too late to run. The speed at which this thing devours prey far outpaces any speed Luca or I can put on. Now, at the final hour, there is nothing but defiance and outrage to protect me.

I watch as the little tendril ekes out across the floor and then, ever so lightly, touches my foot.

I stamp my foot and the tendril withdraws a moment, then surges again, and this time it is not so hesitant. It reaches out and wraps around my lower leg, entwining its way up my calf and then my thigh. I expect to be destroyed, swallowed, removed from existence, but it is careful, this void of sudden being, and it seems to be carefully avoiding erasing me.

This leviathan of space has me in its grasp and there is nothing to do but see what my fate will be. Luca is standing, staring. I think his programming has overloaded. I see no comprehension in his gaze as a second tendril comes waving across the floor and makes its way up my other leg.

I am being touched by the very essence of nothing. The darkness slithers over me, exploring me, still with that surprisingly gentle touch. This is an eater of worlds, a swallower of lives, but it is so careful, even more so when it reaches the apex of my thighs where my sex still leaks the juices of our desire.

I feel myself openthere.I feel my pussy lips spreading. I feel my inner walls giving way to an unseen force and then I realize that I am being fucked by yet another strange alien creature. It is inside me, it is taking me with long, slow strokes that feel so incredibly strange I do not know how to react. Should I be screaming and writhing? Should I try to free myself?

I feel pressure, a growing pressure as the tendril inside me thickens and I realize more than ever that this creature is showing me mercy and perhaps even care. It washes back and forth inside me, a surging unseen force that nevertheless makes my body respond.

I am so used to being touched by a man, there is nothing to compare this experience to. I am being ravaged by existential terror, but I feel no fear. I am held, and I am safe, and there is even pleasure in the touch of the thing that responded to me when I spoke to it. There must be understanding, there must be...

“Oh!” I gasp as my nipple is pinched and I realize that my body is now covered in these dark tendrils, working all over my frame, covering me from my neck to my chest, weaving around the curves of my ass.

Suddenly, I have the sense that this thing is very conscious. Perhaps more than I am. I also get the feeling that what I am seeing is not really what it is. I don’t think I can comprehend it. It is bigger than I am. It exists in more ways, spaces, and times than I do. It is touching me out of, I don’t know, curiosity? It can’t be true desire. It is just playing with me, toying with my erogenous senses and zones and bringing me toward a climax that I almost fear because I do not know what the aftermath will bring.

Will it kill me? Will it consume the ship? Will it release me?

It plunges deep and thick, a little tendril wrapped about my clit. This creature is capable of stimulating one nerve ending at a time, and it plays my pussy like a fine instrument, bringing me pleasure on a near cellular level.

* * *

Talon

We rush to the bay, where we find Lyra suspended ten feet in the air, her body arched in obvious ecstasy, her toes curled, her pussy spread.

“It’s been fucking her...” Luca says. “It just keeps...”

She moans with orgasm, a low wail that goes to the very core of me. God. This is the most strange, twisted, dangerous thing I have ever seen, and it is also so primally arousing. She is like a sacrifice to the beast, one who gave herself willingly and now spreads her thighs and takes it inside her.

“It could kill her. We have to stop it.”

I turn to Shank. “And how do we stop it? It is impervious to our weapons. We cannot outrun it, and even if we could, it has her in its grasp, and it could find us again. This is the first time anyone has interacted with the thing directly. This may be the key.”

“Letting it fuck your captive?”

“Letting it fuck my captive,” I nod.

I hadn’t thought about the possibility that the creature was one of desire. Here we are sailing across the universe to mate and reproduce as much as possible, and I never once considered that this dark thing might have similar aims. The desire to mate is common to almost all sentient things.

I didn’t think of it as a sentient creature. I thought of it as a force of destruction, something so deadly and dangerous it could not be tolerated. Now that I think about it, it all makes total sense. Of course it chased our ship. We quite literally exude sex. And the fact that it tore inside us to find a mate, is that really any different than any organism that must first penetrate a hymen?

We have been playing hard to get, and the creature has been playing rough, but according to what we saw through Luca’s uplink, Lyra gave herself to it. She did not fight. She did not struggle. She surrendered. And now it has her moaning and grinding her hips, suspended in what looks like near perfect ecstasy.

“Don’t damn well move,” I growl to Shank as I see him take a step forward out of the corner of my eye. “We stay back from this. It isn’t hurting her.”

“You don’t know that,” he whispers.

“I know we can’t stop it if it does.”

That has been the truth since the creature emerged. It has been unstoppable, relentless. It has hunted and consumed without remorse or hesitation. Even if we were to rush forward and try to free her, we couldn’t be successful. Touching the darkest parts of it would not stop it. There is nothing to fight. Nothing to pull away from her. It has form only where it chooses to.

Suddenly, Lyra lets out a shriek of pure pleasure. I have heard smaller versions of those cries before, but never at such a pitch or for so long. It is like orgasm is being torn from her, every part of her rolling and writhing with desire. Her legs are spread impossibly wide, her hips are arched, her nipples stand erect in the shade of the creature, and when her head falls back and I see her expression, I am both horrified and stunned. Her face is pink from orgasm. I have seen that face of climax many times before, but one major difference turns it from a scene of pure arousal to one of fear. Her eyes are black. From one side to the other, no white, no color, just two dark spaces where her inquisitive gaze used to be.

Shank and I both let out a cry of dismay and horror, but it is too late. The creature is done with her. It lowers her slowly to the ground and then withdraws, slipping back from her limp unmoving form with a satisfied undulating motion, letting the light back into the room and then... It is gone.

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