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Humans are the scariest motherfuckers I’ve ever met, and I’m up to my third species now. The scythkin carry me off to wherever. It doesn’t matter. I won’t be getting comfortable here. I’m going to find my way back to Brawn if he doesn’t find me first.
I know he’s going to come for me. I know he won’t leave me in the care of these sharp aliens who are so pleased with themselves they can barely stand it.
“Captain Zenith. Here is the human.”
I am presented like a gift-wrapped chocolate to the captain of the ship. He looks just as terrifying in person as he did on the screen.
“You are the first human to ever be owned by our brood. We are honored to have you on our vessel, human woman.”
He’s polite.
I’m not.
“You don’t own me. King Brawn does. He laid his claim all over me and deep inside me.”
The creature’s sharp brows rise roughly. “You mean you mated with a Daise?
“That’s what you call his species? If so, yes. I did mate with him. I mated with him long and hard. I mated with him until I was sore and dripping.”
I take a great deal of satisfaction in saying that. His apparent horror and concern at hearing it serves to make me feel even better.
“Where is his seed?”
“What do you mean? It dripped out of me. Did you expect me to keep it? Like some creepy person?”
I have actually, in the course of my profession, met people who kept their seed. It was not sexy. Ever.
“No. The Daise have a seed which their partner gives them. Like a biological wedding ring. I don’t see a glowing seed implanted in your skin, which means you were not claimed, no matter how much time he may have spent pumping his seed down your throat.”
“We should feed her, captain,” the beast who bought me in says.
“Good idea, Detonationscreech.”
Their names are weird. They are weird. And they don’t have what I want to eat.
“You have King Brawn around? He’s all I eat these days. I’m a Brawnatarian.”
“Take her to a secure room. She is human and humans always try to escape. And take her some food appropriate for a human.”
Zenith makes his proclamation as if he has some right to do that, like my wishes don’t matter. Detonationscreech picks me up again and carries me off to some other part of the ship where I can be contained. The space I end up in is just a pale colored box with no windows. There is a bed and a toilet and a shower and not much else. I’ve put hundreds, if not thousands of people into places just like this before. It’s a cell.
“Here you go,” he says. “This is your room. You will like it.”
“I will like it?”
“Yes. You will.”
“Okay, then.”
“Sit down and wait. I will bring you something to eat.”
How can he possibly bring me something to eat? He just pulled me from the arms of my lover king, the only source of nutrition in the greater universe. The scythkin disappears for a few minutes, then returns with a steaming hot, incredible smelling plate of food down in front of me.
Oh. Right. Food.
I had almost forgotten this existed. So fucking weird. How do you forget about food? I never missed it, not after my first meal from Brawn. Now I smell the aroma of hot pasta and rich tomato sauces, I find myself hungry in a way I haven’t been since I was last on Earth.
The food is a lot better on the scythkin ship, that much is for sure. Well, not so much better, as it is existent. I have been surviving on a diet of royal semen for weeks now. I thought I’d never have solid food again.
This stuff sticks to my teeth in a way I had forgotten food does. Though it does feel nice to chew again. There’s a comforting solidity to the experience which I highly recommend. Maybe if Brawn and I can ever find a space station that hasn’t been recently deconstructed by invading assholes, I can share spaghetti with him.
Later that evening I am lying on the very simple bed, trying to sleep. It’s so hard without Brawn’s heft and bulk. I don’t think I will ever be able to sleep well without him again. I’m missing him so intensely that I start to physically shiver. It’s hardly noticeable at first. Kind of like I’m just a bit cold, but not really. Over a period of hours, the shivering worsens. My nose starts to run. Have I caught some kind of a virus from these aliens?
Shit. This is the worst possible time to get sick. I need my strength to resist my captors, and to make their lives as hellish as possible. I want to punish them for having taken me. I want them to regret every single minute they spend with me. An ex once told me that was how he felt, so I reckon I’ve got a fighting chance.
