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When he walks, I am jostled between his hand and his shoulder. My clit rubs against the ridge of a muscle in motion, and my anus tightens with the touch of his digit.
“M’uklahk, heba vivisi,” he says to the others. I still have no idea what the words mean, but they are deep and they are calm and they make me feel safe in some intangible way. I have no way of knowing that I am being taken to safety, but those old instincts, the part of me that wasn’t completely bred out, tell me not to struggle. I lie, compliant and complicit in my alien abduction as I am carried across this planet of sand and stone.
His finger is pressing against my tight hole, rocking there with every step, making me feel sensations that are unfamiliar, but pleasantly distracting. It is a massage for the underside of me, a place that has not been touched by any other hand before. I was not breeding stock. They did not check me. They did not test my willingness, or chart my fertility, as they did to some of the others. I was picked for parts, then saved last moment for auction, not quite ugly enough to die.
Now I am very alive, every part of my body responding to these new sensations the alien brings to my flesh. He is wrong. I am meat. But there is nothing wrong with meat that knows it is meat. I inhabit my flesh fully as an animal might, and I respond to the sensations that are flowing through me without reservation.
My legs spread to allow my clit to press against the hot, hard plane of his shoulder. I want more contact. More pleasure. I want relief and release from the terror of the last hours and all the days before them. I am held firmly, undoubtedly captive, but I think I might like it.
Male touch was withheld from us. Once a male escaped from the breeding pens and rushed in among us. I saw him mate with seventeen of us before he was dragged away by his Vargon handlers. The ones who had been mated with were taken away too. I do not know what happened to them, but the sights I saw that day stayed with me a very long time. The sounds the women made as he mated them, the way he held them for his lust, how fast and hard his hips moved, his flesh pushing inside theirs from all angles until both parties cried out and shook and pulled apart, forever changed me.
I think I am feeling some of that pleasure now over the shoulder of the alien beast. I grind with his steps, I let my lips part in soft moans. I have no reason to hide my reaction.
“Sluzt a’hearny,” the one behind me laughs. “Fizk.”
The beast carrying me stops and moves me, pulling me from his shoulder. I am shocked when his hand comes down across my cheeks in a hard slap.
“No,” he says firmly. “Not in public.”
“What not in public?”
The pain in my cheeks is followed with heat and both sensations melt into the same pleasure I felt before. My body is an excellent converter. It turns food into meat, and air into sound. Now it turns pain into perfection. I reach between my legs, but the alien takes my hand, pulls it from my sex, and shakes his head firmly.
“No.”
“Yes.”
I was not bred to be defiant, but I was made to take what I need, as all animals are. He doesn’t understand what he has already done to me. From the moment his fingers first made contact with my skin, he has been stirring something inside me. He called and I answered and now I writhe in his grasp, my hips undulating in a helpless dance of need. It feels as if I have been taken over by something I cannot control. The wetness between my thighs is spreading and growing… my legs start to shake. My knees are weak. I don’t know if it is the effect of the monster, or the crash, or some combination of the two, but I am suddenly out of control. I reach for the alien to hold myself up and he catches my hands in his two massive palms. More heat flashes through me, two intense pulses that travel to the core of me and make an involuntary moan escape my lips. I can’t take this. There’s something building inside me. Something I cannot contain. I find myself drawn to him, my body pressing against his, craving his heat.
None of this makes sense. Where are the Vargons? How did I survive a crash that tore our shuttle apart and set me free on this alien world? And why am I now so utterly consumed with animal lust in a way I never have been before? I try to think, but thinking is not something I have been allowed to do before. Every decision in my life has been made for me several steps ahead of time. In the farm, we followed routine in return for being fed and allowed to survive.
