#AILF10 The Breeder Market Part 2: Underwater, but no, this is soooo not Aqua Man

πŸ˜πŸ’•πŸ˜ˆπŸ‘½The Breeder Market Part 2: πŸ‘½πŸ˜ˆπŸ’•πŸ˜ #AILF10

Underwater, but no, this is soooo not Aqua Man

The cargo hold was quiet. 

The slow regular breaking of the thousands of humans abducted from the last run across the surface the only sound, like the whisper of a giant forest in summer.

 

A quiet beep, then the boom of the automated arm swung down from the bay ceiling, its movement a sinister hiss on silent tracks. It jerked to a stop in front of a pod, it’s suction head locked onto the ID plate and grasping mechanism.  A slight tussle, then the arm retracted, and slowly pulled the hexagonal tube from its housing. 

 

The young brunette female inside was jostled around, then slid down the tube to curl on the base as it was held aloft and then placed in the transport tunnel at the end of the stacked bay.

The whoosh of air was the only sound heard as the tube was whisked away.  Job complete, the automated arm returned to its housing and powered down, ignoring the rapid dull thuds coming from one of the myriad of shelved cargo.

 

The Master of Sales stood, swaying in anticipation poised slightly to the side as, with a swirl the closely interwoven floor discs peeled back, the platform opened and an opaque hexagonal tube rose slowly from beneath the platform housing.  The Master staked his large spindly legs astride the pod, tapping one of its glowing tentacles on the sensor pad of the tube.

The lid of he tube slid open, revealing a naked female, curled at the foot of the tube. Her pale creamy skin was coated in a thick gel. Her slow steady breathing matched the monitor pad within the tube; she was apparently asleep.

 

The Master loomed over the female form, tapping the back of his skull to allow the embedded vid beam to project a large holographic form of the curled woman to the gathered envoys.

 

“Is this sample acceptable, Envoy?” he intoned drily, noting with impersonal distaste the sudden spiking of mating hormones that sharply peppered the air in the observation room.

 

The eyes of the tentacled being locked onto the projection “Gratitudes, yes, but-” 

“We bid patience, envoy” the Master flicked a tentacle for silence as the large image detached from his personal beam and replaced all the images on the screens in the hall.

 

“A gift, from the Marketplace, envoy” the Master waved another tentacle and a smaller version of his species clattered into the hall and marched forward, the small purple orbs that dotted its arms and head flickering with unease.  He stopped at the shimmering wall of the acquatic container and pressed a small gel covered parcel against it. 

 

Grey in service to Obsidian

 

The obsidian male stood unmoving as a grey coloured servant swam forward, pulled the parcel into the tank after running a tentacle over it. Satisfied, he rubbed the parcel and, as the gel dissolved, unraveled a flexible, bronze coloured organic tube. As the remainder of the gel dissolved, the tube became animated, swirling and moving in a sinuous motion towards the larger obsidian leader.

 

The tentacled beings quickly recoiled, and swirled away hastily to the far end of the large tank.

“What treachery is this?!” the obsidian being thrust a large tentacle towards the coil, seeking to slap it away, out of the tank. 

“Hold, envoy” the Master spoke sharply the air crackling with electricity as all stilled. 

The Master turned and bent over the slumbering form of the woman. Tapping a selection of discs on his chest and arms, the woman stirred and levitated from the tube to lie prone in mid air, her waves of chestnut hair tumbling to sway and swirl around her in the lighter gravity of the room.

 

The Master then beckoned the glowing Purple orbed assistant who came forward, through the scrutiny haze, offering a similar gel enclosed parcel in its outstretched hand. 

The Master took it, waving him back out of the security field. He broke open the gel pack and dropped the coil onto the prone form of the woman. It uncoiled rapidly, then slithered up her torso to press one end of itself between her plump rosy lips and down into her trachea. The other end flattened out to an arrow head shape settling on her lower stomach where it pulsed gently.

 

The Master placed a glowing tentacle on each of her temples, the ends glowing bright as he pushed a soothing vision into her slumbering mind. He drew one of the female’s legs away from her body, indicating with his other arm the glistening moisture that appeared, coating her delicate folds.  

 

“Allow the breather to affix appropriately, envoy” the Master intoned soothingly to the beings in the aqua tank “and then we can commence”

 

The grey being slid forward again, grasping the undulating coil with a wary tentacle as he held it out to the dark leader. The coil slipped between the obsidian feeding tentacles. He doubled over, jerking in obvious agony, then after a short flurry of air bubbles and choking splutter, the leader settled down. He returned to the centre of the tank, nodding once, his eyes glued to the woman, roving over her form to settle at the junction between her gently opened thighs.

 

The Dihsul leader suddenly stepped forward, arms outstretched, thick drool slavering from its mouth to slick down his leather vest.

“Permit me to …transfer the female, the sweet smelling female, the sample to the aquatank” he said, his four eyes darting across her form. He turned three of his eyes to the Master, making them as wide and as innocent as he could, the fourth glued to the female. “It would be my honour”

“Indeed. Gratitudes.” the purple robed assistant muttered drily.

 “”We do not concur; we decline” the Master stated quietly.

 

He descended the platform, the hazy swirl of his security field reforming, this time into a tunnel, forming a secure path connecting the route between Master and the aquatank of the tentacled beings. He motioned towards the trusted large grey hued assistant.

 

“Approach. Collect the female for sampling by your leader” He touched the brightest neon pad on his chest and the prone woman slid silently forwards, past the Master, past the gathered envoys who reached forward- to be either burned or badly shocked as they touched the security field. 

 

Overcome and angry, the Dihsul leader suddenly leapt forward, reaching for the female as she briskly slid past his position alongside the security field. His hand slammed to a stop against the security field. He bellowed once in pain and rage, jerking his meaty hand off the glowing field as the acrid stench of seared flesh on his palm reached his flared nostrils.

 

The woman reached the shimmering wall of the aquatic tank as the obsidian envoy growled suddenly “Halt!”

Turning he waved his tentacles at the other tank occupants “Return now to our quarters, all but you” he pointed a waving tentacle at the grey envoy who had assisted so far

“You shall bring her to me, then stand guard to the chamber.”

 

“The end of the female’s breather will seal on contact with water, envoy. We advise you attach and connect your coils within 2 earth minutes, unless your wish is to take sample of a corpse.” Your account will be billed for the loss.

 

The Master laid a glowing tentacle against the aqua tank. The walls immediately became opaque, the shadowy forms of the tank inhabitants dwindling to a single, imposing silhouette. A meaty tentacle reached forward, wrapped round the ankle of the woman and yanked the body forward in one swift and smooth movement. 

 

Inside the darkened tank, he drew the soft form towards him. The ends of the breather coils snaked together, twisting to seal seamlessly at the arrow head valve.

 

He drew her towards him, noting the steady stream of bubbles that pushed past her rosy lips.

 

His tentacles roiled around him, then slowly, he allowed them to unravel. They skittered over her form, individual suckers delicately learning each dip and swell of her soft body. 

His mating tentacle stood stiff and pulsing, gel oozing from its flared tip. He tasted her strange, slight salty skin with his thin shorter tentacles, his shaft growing impossibly harder with the need to claim the female.

 

His possessive nature reared up. He would not take her here, for all to observe, as if he were no more than a common pleasure palace entertainer. But quite soon.

 

He slapped an authoritative tentacle once against the tank for attention

 

“We accept the sample. Install breathers adequate for all the shipment” he stated.

 

“We shall make it so” the Master noted, satisfied, then continued

“Now, as to the matter of supplying the compatible breathers, however” he paused, enjoying the power of a transaction done well, leaving a sting from besting the buyer,

“There is a small, insignificant additional charge” 

“Whatever it is, you shall have it” the obsidian so thoughts were thick, distracted by the female whose soft form bumped against his hard torso. 

 

His dark tentacles wrapped around her, nestling her close to his side. 

 

“Primacy over the trade route between your outlying satellite post and our home planet” the Master struck swiftly.

 

“It is yours” the obsidian being floated towards the exit of the chamber, squirting a dark inky cloud as the only sign of his displeasure at this exorbitant premium.

 

But he would pay it. 

 

 

She would suffice.

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#AILF10 The Breeder Market: Part 1 – Market Day samples

Welcome to this alien-human maybe darkish read. Let’s see how this unfolds.

 

πŸ˜ˆπŸ‘½πŸ˜πŸ’•The Breeder Market: Part 1 -Market Day Samples on offerπŸ’•πŸ˜πŸ‘½πŸ˜ˆ

#AILF10

 

The group of envoys stood impassive, each of their swirling blue or gold transaction-orbs pinned or hung around their neck or available appendage. 

 

The curved portable water tanks for the acquatic species that lined the rear wall area filled soundlessly. Their back walls slid open, allowing each of those buyers to swim into place, taking position in their enclosures to join the main group.

 

All eyes were pinned with unerring accuracy on the holovids that adorned the circular booking centre. The scenes showed various aspects of Earth life secretly intercepted from the planet’s communication satellites.

The rooms brightly glowing lights blinked twice then dimmed to the level of luminescence acceptable for what, and who was about to enter to lead the sales.

 

“Honoured beings, We welcome all” the Master of Sales swept into the room, his blue-neon decal glowed eerily in the twilight. His sinewed muscled upper body was cloaked in the black shimmer of a security field. It disintegrated to become a hazy smoke like dome around him as he moved further into the room.

  

“Our gratitudes” The buyers murmured the required response. The sound from the gathered group was acknowledged by a gentle dip of his head in acknowledgement. 

 

“We commence, no?”

The Master ascended to the central platform, the smoky haze settled around him. He gathered all but his longest appendages around him, drawing himself up to his usual nine feet height and, waving his long neon tipped appendages hypnotically, he intoned the sales pitch, unchanged in the hundreds of years since the Galaxire had laid claim to this part of the universe.

“Our galaxies have many needs. Our resources stretched and finite.”

“Our needs are great. Our wisdom vast. ”

“Our worlds have many needs. Our peoples ancient and superior, old. ”

“Our knowledge has increased. Our explorations bold.”

 

“This Earth can meet our needs, its tribes all good for breeding.”

“Their resources raw and ready. Their knowledge low and their rulers needy.”

“We bring them the security of superior leaders.”

“We bring them the justice of judgement, as owners, as breeders.”

 

“Today, we look to providing a diverse group to fit your many tastes and palates.”

“For slave markets, for your pleasure houses.”

“For your battles or arenas. For edible delicacies or as feeders.”

 

“Your lots have been selected. Bids are accepted as final.”

“No further price negotiation is possible.”

 

“Attend us, noble envoys,” the Master raised his tentacles further, the four glowing reciting discs spinning into life.

“Let those who wish to acquire for coin or credit now approach us and be confirmed”.

 

A ragtag group of leather clad Dihsul Warriors came forward. Their leader stepped up, pushing through the silver smoky haze of the security field.

His lower hands gripped his sol-blasters instinctively as he came to a stop in front of the Master, though he knew the weapons were useless, dampened by the security system.

 

“Ah, you return, even as your last transactions remains unpaid” the Master cast his bright blue glare over the creature, and vibrated his neon nasal plates in mock disapproval.

“We have need of more females.” the Dihsul snarled.

“Our last convoy was attacked by dishonourable Sibulians” he glared over his shoulder through the smoky haze in accusation at the stone grey bulk of a Sibulian envoy, who held his gaze, then returned the glare with a dispassionate and discourteous lowering of his sloped brow.

 

“At your honour, then.” the Master touched a neon blue wrist pad, updating the record. The worried frown of the scowling Dihsul cleared as he nodded their thanks, his major and minor eyes blinking in relief. 

The Master waited until the warrior had bowed and stepped back beyond the security shield, his fellow warriors clapping his shoulder in celebration, before he spoke again.

 

“Until such time of redemption” his voice lowered menacingly “the points still accrue on the funds advanced. This sale house shall also take in part payment the offspring from the first of such matings.”

“Fucking cock suck” the Dihsul muttered a curse, which though said low, still reached the ears of the Master, who smiled to himself grimly.

 

“Attend, noble envoys” the Master gestured to the flickering screens that now expanded to show in detail many images of humans.

The most entrancing clips showed humans in their judgement halls, the thousands of spectators baying for blood or bestowing blessings on the victims. A few times the clips showed smaller groups of women, seated and laughing, arguing, sympathising, gesturing heatedly but always together, and apparently observed by an audience of other women seated in brightly lit indoor mini amphitheatres. 

 

The envoys moved closer to the vids, claws, tentacles, chitin covered appendages reaching out to caress or claw at the screens hungrily.

 

“The humans are mainly multi-taskable and quite useful once trained” the Siblian envoy muttered to a fellow buyer. “Their strange smooth skin shows a variety shades; from almost alabaster white to the dark rich colour of the mineral gardens of Benhadhi.”

“Is their taste different too?” A burly Cradruu elbowed his way to a screen showing a large number of human women swaying, marching and moving in time with the discordant Earth music. Each was clad in sparkling garments and wore a white sash with strange markings.

 

“Is this a mating ceremony?”

“Yes” the Sibulian answered with a certainty he did not feel. “I have seen this before” he continued. 

“The human females vie for the hand of the King, who does not attend.  His ambassadors ask the women questions and the victor receives the mating crown.”

The Cradruu stretched his neck further to peer at the faces on screen. 

 

“Look at their features” he said, the slight hum in his placid voice betrayed his excitement and warming libido.

“Even their eyes show variety. Here, some eyes are sloe fruit shaped, there others wide lidded. Some eyes were unadorned and the palest of colours, others heavily painted to accentuate the greys, blues, greens, gold to swirling black centres of their pale white orbs.”

 

“Never trust one of ’em with less than four eyes” the Dihsul leader grunted in mock disgust. His animosity from the reported Sibulian ambush forgotten, replaced by lust at the thought of taking possession of a new batch of fresh meat.  Dihsul warrior Transporters were at liberty to sample the goods. Happily, those females found to have been bred fetched an even greater price in the slave markets.

 

“The lack of more than one set of eyes was once distasteful to some of our species” the telepathic voice of an acquatic obsidian alien bled into the minds of all present “but this is not an issue for our coming breeding purposes”

His fellow envoys swirled around him, their black, silver and gold forms twisted and shimmered as they swam within their viewing tanks.

 

“This planet has been an accidental but very convenient find.” A grey skinned slim One approached, dark unblinking eyes fixed on nothing, yet seeing everything as his thoughts were broadcast in gentle tones. 

 

” It’s natural disasters, lack of either a single or unified approach to caring for its population and the ongoing feuds between neighbouring tribes allow both the mining of the planets heat reserves, and the structured farming of its most densely populated areas.”

 

“And all that, conducted without any significant disruption or discovery.” the Master interrupted brusquely. 

“It is time to-”

“The females do not breath in water” the Obsidian creature snapped suddenly. He swam to the front of his tank, raising himself to vertical stillness., his muscled arms folded across his chest  All but one of his tentacles writhed around him like an inky cloud. The still central, shorter tentacle jutted proudly at his waist. Immobile, thick, bulging and upright, a dark inky, thick gel oozed from the wide slit in its pulsing, reddened tip.

 

“How are we to ensure they meet our needs?” his angry thoughts were laced with frustration.

 

“A sample then” the Master waved a soothing guesturing appendage toward the obsidian being’s tank 

 

“Select a female for demonstration and let us resolve your concern”

 

Want to follow his story?

Part 2 is posted here and my FB page.

#AILF9 Capricorn Rising Part 2 of 3 – Speaking…with Tongues

Thanks to @brittanymarshall for this inspiring pic…#AILF

 

Part 2 of 2 Capricorn Rising

 

~~~~~~~

Aruiyen snorted and sat up sharply, cracking his horns against the sleep chamber. The sharp decompression of his quarters had activated the re-life cycle of his stasis closet. 

 

He pushed the seamless latch and the fogged front wall clicked, breaking the seal causing the sleep fluid to seek out with an angry hiss, turning to a harmless but annoyingly foggy soup of breathable gases. 

 

Auriyen climbed out of the chamber. 

“Report” He barked

“Decompression alert in the cargo hold, sire” came the  cautious response.

His sister’s tup, Senroth. Auriyen snorted in irritation.

It figured that something would kick of during that calf-lick’s shift.

 

“It wasn’t me uncle Auri” the Navigator said quickly.

“I was just talking with the M’gg-humale-”

“It’s human. Or female. Not humale-”

Wait. Why for all the realm were you at converse with the human? Has it passed your memory  – the damage caused to medi bay? Or the human male’s attempts to sabotage the ship? Or his final demise?”

 

“The female asked for a short break from quarters, and the security detail was en route, but she was not found when they arrived. Sire”

“Well find her!” Auriyen had bellowed, his heart thumping in fear. There were many small spaces that could trap and freeze a tiny human on his ship.

 

He grabbed his garments and slung his cape around his neck, preparing to step out when a slight noise above his head gave him pause.

 

“Oh shit” the words were very low, bit discernible. 

And E were coming from the air tunnels.

 

Smiling, Auriyen slowly put down his garments and crouched in the darkness, his cape forgotten as he waited for the human to appear.

 

The Shara-ein had surpassed itself, not only finding but installing ancient vocalisers, enabling the vermin to understand simple commands and be understood in return. 

 

It’s language had been rudimentary, so it was easily synthesised, then fed into the archives, as an upgrade for the highbred Oxenia Prime clans that could afford it. Or those that made petition a donated version for their young bucks.

 

The humans, he had to remind other crew members to address them as such, had both been taken to medi bay to be implanted.  The male had shoved the shorter human in front of him and cowered, blubbering as the equipment for the three phase procedure was set up. 

The needle thin probe for the vocaliser

And the two slim finger like probes for providing the sterilisation and perma-coating of their ingest and egress cavities. 

 

The smaller human had marched forward muttering “Ggggggd Brrud! kuwrrd mush?. Yh bgpyzzi!” 

The Shara-ein had established later in the months that followed that a ‘puzzi’ was a dishonourable male. 

And a ‘byg puzzi’ was a totally irredeemable one.

 

Since the incident the smaller human, M’gg, had initially refused to be housed with the Brrud, but had been ignored. 

 

But the Brrud had deteriorated in mind and after a heated shouting where parentage was called into question, a small circlet of what looked like the metal smelted to power the transfer beam had been torn from her small hand and flung at his feet. He had seen that as a slight but had not reared to bash heads in resolution. Rather he had grasped her arm and then laid hands upon her person. The shrill scream of terror convinced Auriyen to order two separate smaller holds to be set up immediately.

 

The male had not settled, his actions seeking to set alight his quarters, inflict cutting wounds on those who stood security and finally a deadly quiet stillness, sitting for hours starting at the wall. 

 

Within the sennight a frantic video Comm from Senroth, poor lad, had resolved the worsening state of the human.

 

“Sire! The male is no more” Senroth had wailed in horror.

 

“And the male tricked me, sire! He asked if I had authority for security over ride, which of course I do. So I told him yes, and he said I did not, so I defended my honour and swore on the horns of my mother, but he just laughed and pointed at the airlock in his hold and wagered I couldn’t over ride that valve, and I said it was an airlock, not a security panel, but he wagered I was at fault in my understanding, and before I knew it he had jumped on the lock without warning and I could not re-engage it and he was torn out of the, the…the air. L-lock. Sire. But it was too quick to arrest the breach. And he sort of gasped once then bounced off the side of the carrier and floated away from us too fast to traction him back…” Senroth ran out of breath and strength, slumping in his seat.

 

“Brother Auriyen. Tis a hand of fate that has claimed the Brrud human so” the Baron at Arms on duty as always, had placed a calming hand on Senroth’s shoulder and stared down the vid Comm pointedly.

“Better to return to O-Prime with one sane sentient vermin, human my apologies, than with the beasts of that planet, and one sane and one mad human. The Rangor would call for Baa’an feud and seek to shame you, sire.”

 

Auriyen had hated to admit his Baron was right. 

But he had chosen to break the news to the M’gg.

She had been shaken but not suprised. Auriyen had been drawn to spend more time with the soft spoken yet feisty alien. They helped each other learn their respective tongue.

 

“Brrud thought it was his bad karma” she had said to him at a visit that he had invited her to last meal in his quarters. 

“He spent his life wanting to be a bull rider. Only to find himself captured and on his way to a land where the Bulls and Rams rule? It tore him up inside. And no one could help him except himself” M’gg had sighed sadly before Auriyen smoothly diverted her attention with tales of the Oxian Prime court.

 

They had chatted and laughed and Auriyen had felt the unfamiliar and coveted rush of rutting fire as he inhaled her heady scent. 

 

The Shara-ein had explained the miraculous arrival. The blue planet human was a female, with monthly courses. Auriyen had stared blankly at the technic

“She is fertile, sire. And compatable. ” he had said. “Do you desire us to test our comparability level through active research?”

“No!” Auriyen had bellowed, cracking his forehead against the Shara-ein’s equally dense head plates smartly.

 

“She is to remain untouched!”

 

That had been six months ago. The carrier had refuelled, landing at exotic destinations, and Aruiyen had taken M’gg to see wonders and sights to amaze and delight her.  

 

He was careful to have the crew sealed and isolated from her during her period of courses, but it was proving difficult.

 

Then last night after the regular weekly dinner invite to his quarters and a rousing game of Rams Luck, which she won, she had hooted in glee and he had grabbed her, swinging her round, as proud as any ram with a baby tup. She had pressed her pouty rosebud mouth against his and for a brief moment he had tasted heaven.

 

In fear of the Unknown he had ordered all but the most essential crew to stasis for the remainder of the journey home.

 

And now she was roaming the ship, sneaking into his quarters.  He inhaled, her enhanced heady mix of honey, cream and female danced over his senses.

 

The ceiling vent above opened and her tiny feet, with the strange coverings Shara-win had manufactured by replicator waved frantically above his head. She was in the traditional linen shift worn by women but in the increased thickness in the air, it lifted, displaying her pert naked flanks.

 

For a split second M’gg hung before dropping lightly to the floor..

Meg and Auriyen

“He pounced, chuckling as she let out a high squeak, still trying to be stealthy and quiet.

 

His thick arms banded around her legs as his tail whipped lightly across the two round globes of her flanks. 

“It is night time, little one” he growled, noting that her shift had caught in the vent and dangled above his head.

“I was bored. And a bit afraid, and also fed up of being alone” Meg said softly

“How can I soothe your fears” Auriyans arms tightened slightly, his hands curved around her smooth thighs.

 

She smoothed her tiny hands along his shoulders, entranced by the feel of his warm muscled frame.

 

“How can I soothe your fears” Auriyans arms tightened slightly, his hands curved around her smooth thighs.

 

Auriyen looked up, watching as the thick air lifted her hair to spread it across her shoulders and float it about her head

 

“Maybe, tonight, you could help me with your…tongue” 

 

Meg grinned as the Grand Vizer growled softly “It would be my honour, little one” Auriyen, defender of worlds, claw of Blood and Death smiled to himself as he leaned forward slowly. And complied.

#AILF9 Capricorn Rising Part 1 of 3 – the cattle are a-lowing…

Capricorn Rising Part 1 of 2 #AILF

 

(A long time ago, in a land far away…)

Blork shunted backwards, his hooves clattering over the stone walkway.

“What’s this?” Auriyen, the Grand Vizer stomped a silver tipped hoof once with impatience. He glared at the clerk, ignoring the grunt’s clammy hand outstretched towards him, and the info orb that rattled with nerves in his clammy outstretched paw.

 

“We have f-found an inhabited p-planet, sire” Blork stammered, nervous, exited and fearful all at once.

 

The orb rattled wildly again. Auriyen snatched it out of the clerk’s hand before the imbecile dropped and broke it. He peered into its contents, checking it contained the information he had authorised for distribution to the clan leaders, huffed, then ground the delicate info sphere to dust between his meaty paws.

 

“It’s many peoples are scattered across its surface” Blork muttered nervously. 

He was a stubborn brat. Auriyen glowered and scrapped his hoof long and gratingly slow on the flagstones. This limelight was for meant for the Vizer, not the grunt. 

 

“Well?” The Grand Vizer swung his great head around, arms flung out in haughty anger as he turned slowly, his haughty gaze rising to survey the gently sloping hills filled with clans gathered for his Pronouncement on this discovery.

 

“Why have we not made contact?” He glared at Blork, scrapping his hoof again.

 

Blork swallowed hard, his own hoof pecking nervously several times on the flagstone. He clutched his thigh unconsciously, as if to still the nervous tic and tried to stutter out his analysis as practised that morn with the Grand Vizer.

 

‘Technicians of Oxenia Prime’s greatest archives would teach future grunt clerks about this day.’ Blork thought suddenly.

Blork, the Wise, would become part of the syllabus. 

 

The data was undisputed. And his 13 years of unwavering, considered analysis of this data would not, COULD not be faulty.

 

He stood up a little straighter, tapping his hoof once in certainty. Grounding himself. 

 

“Well, sire. Here’s the thing. They aren’t responding” Blork stepped back a few more paces as the wide head of Auriyen lowered into his trademark glower.

 

“We believe they are captives of the vermin that populate the planet!” That unscripted, braying shout from the elder of Blork’s clan -he was also Bork’s pompous windbag of a father, Auriyen huffed dourly to himself. 

 

Blork Senior’s accusation was quickly taken up by his fellows.

“Yes.”

“Captive, so they are!”

“They must be freed! 

“Freed!” 

We must act!”

 

Auriyen lifted his hand for silence and an expectant hush fell over the group. When all that could be heard were was the rustle of the grass that covered the steppes on which the clans gatherings were held and the haunting song of the herd finches he spoke.

“Who shall go to parlay? Which clan has strength of horn and hoof to accomplish this task”

 

A shout went up, the 15 clans almost a unanimous voice in their clamouring.

 

“Baa’ an Clan! The clan of Auriyen!” 

Auriyen gave a cold satisfied smile. His sharply angled head lifted up, flexing this thick neck and powerful massive shoulders.

 

“And what of the bounty to be wrung from the captors? Who among us is fit to seize? Who among us is fit to judge?  And Who. Among. Us. Is fit to punish?”

 

Again the loud shout rose to shake the open hillside, the noise rolling down the lush green steppes like an avalanche 

 

“Auriyen! The grace of Auriyen decides all!”

 

Auriyen, Grand Vizor, former outcast but now champion warlord, braced apart his muscled thighs. Claw tipped fingers clenched in gripping fist he punched the air above his head

 

“We bring freedom to our people! And punishment to all captors!”

 The assembled clans of elders went wild, stomping and leaping about. Clan Rangor elders rushed to and fro across their steppes, kicking all who foolishly stood behind them as they charged past.

 

The thirty elders of Clan Baa’an rose in unison. Each slowly stomped their left hoof, their clawed right hand matching the rhythm, thumping their massive chests,  the tempo getting faster and faster, their powerful tails whipping audibly as they bayed low and loud in support.  

 

A few of the younger Baa’an elders in training forgot themselves, turning to grab each other’s lapels to crack their bone dense thick foreheads together brutally, yelling as comrades with arrogance in an undignified display.

 

Even the thoughtful docile, long haired Shara-ein clan though they remained seated, took on the frenzy, a song of an ancient war chant bursting forth, their gray faces splitting wide as each of their voices swelled the noise in warbling glorious song.

 

Sharia-ein In Song

 

 

The heavenly orb of light bathed the hillside in its warm heat, seeming to shine even brighter as Auriyen stomped purposefully around the stony worn flagstones of the Elders circle shouting “We leave on the morrow. And the clawed hand of Death and Blood be on all who stand against us.  Ready the battleships!”

 

Auriyen stomped out of the enclosure well satisfied. ‘So. That’s another twenty year reign secure and under hoof.’ He chuckled contentedly to himself.

~~~~

 

(Earth’s orbit Present Day)

Auriyen the Fifty Third, freight carrier captain, Hand of Blood and Death and direct descendent of the first Grand Vizer dragged his hand over his face, then scrubbed the bristles of his jutting jaw. His massive head and shouldes and brooding glare confirmed his shared bloodline with his ancestor.

 

He pushed the large floating Orb of Record away from his command console and watched the images from the famed Pronouncement flicker as the Orb bobbed gently in the shuttle. The historical edict to bring freedom to the oppressed, re-enacted for the planetary archives and played on repeat at all annual celebrations, had fuelled his people’s drive for the technological advancements they now wielded.

 

He sighed. Shot a glare of dislike at the holoscreen projection of the inhabitants of the cargo hold, then sighed again.

 

Someone was going to die. 

Die a death of slow but intense pain.

 

Fifty two generations of subsequent leaders, eons used to acquire the weaponry and advanced technology needed to journey to the polluted blue planet. 

 

Only to arrive to find out the horrifying truth.

 

There were none like his people -or any clan known to populate his homeworld,  Oxenia Prime, in THIS universe.

 

Yes, the inhabitants of this ghastly blue planet of plague and death had not responded. But not due to captivity.

 

‘Damn that imbecile Blork the Wise’ he muttered to himself, rising to his feet. Auriyen vowed to have the statue of the fabled archive technician torn down and ground into dust for use in all the wasteland’s privy closets.

 

He stomped back down to the cargo hold, passing through the red beamed cross hatched laser security. He waited for the low bellow that confirmed his authority to enter, then stepped forward, slapping apart the cargo hold forcefield.

 

The smell caused bile to rise up through his first stomach until he tamped down his reactions.

They had crapped themselves. 

Again.

The tan coloured mutes looked over at him, whites of their eyes rolling wildly as they thrashed and stomped about. The females cried pitifully, stamping with the pressure of feeding time now missed.

 

He needed to return them.

 

To the rainy islands, the wide open plains, the cold blustery tundra the crew had ’emancipated’ them from.

 

A loud bellow from a wet nosed, black and white female, her full, pendulous peach tinted long tipped teats swaying in their strangely placed housing between her hind legs, made him grimace in crushing defeat.

 

Once aboard, none stood upright. Stubbornly choosing to remain on all hoofed fours. Encouragement to shift from this camouflage was rudely ignored.

 

All attempts to communicate and inform them of the thousand year crusade for their freedom had been met with either stony silence, a sloppy face lick or, in the case of a rather randy male, an attempt to mount him when Auriyen had once mistakenly turned his back to them.

 

That one. 

Auriyen glared balefully at the randy male who tossed his wide horns, huffed through his nose and promptly lifted his tufted tail to let fall a steaming slurry and clods of dark brownish green waste.

 

That male was being returned immediately. 

The area it had been taken from was vast, an area named, as the navigator informed the crew, as the Tixus lung-Hrnn hamlet.

 

“We are returned to the hamlet, Auriyen sire” the Navigator’s voice boomed in the cargo enclosure causing a repeat of the stomping.  The awful damned wordless noise from the freed aliens started up.

 

“Make it quick, you can return the others shortly, but I want that male off this carriership now!” Auriyen barked. 

“And get this bay enviro-sanitised immediately!”

The sniggered “Right away, sire” promised a vicious beating in the training pen for that navigator before Auriyen would allow him to crawl into his stasis pod for the long journey home.

 

The  swelling electrified light of the transfer beam bathed the cargo bay suddenly, capturing Auriyen and the bellowing Tixus alien in its glow before Auriyen could step out of its reach. 

“Argh!” his shout of ire boomed as suddenly, he found himself in the open, on the surface of the smelly polluted planet, his iron clad hooves and calves sunk up to the knees in the soft muddy planet surface.

 

“By the Golden Hoof of Baa’an Goreem!” Auriyen shouted into his comm piece. “Navigator, What have you done?!” 

 

He looked about sharply, noting that their arrival planet side  him, the randy ma had caught the attention of others, namely other females from the randy one’s harem, he suspected, who now moved at growing pace , jostling and clattering towards them.

 

“Apologies, sire!” The Navigator’s voice echoed in his ear, no longer sniggering, the trembling tone a dread realisation that his last breaths were likely to be painful and would coincide with Auriyen’s safe return to the space battleship. 

 

Auriyen backed away from the fast approaching foolish females, darted out from the centre of the returned group and swung round, his dark high necked cape of office swirling around his legs.

 

“I am retreating to this structure ahead. Mark my coord intends, you calf-lick and get me off this cesspit.” Auriyen charged towards the large strangely shaped tall and wide building that yawned wide at both ends.  A high, then even higher pitched gabble of noise could be heard coming from inside. 

 

The vermin.

 

No matter. This was most likely a small clutch of the fur less vermin that roamed unrestrained across the planet. 

 

Hoof and horn free, they bred in numbers and gathered together in herd enclosures surrounded with lights and stone. At night time, the time agreed best for when he had done his first reconnoitre, he has seen the vermin’s steeds. All shiny metal that shot lights from the front and back as they hurled along the preset paths all blackened and hardened by use.

 

He marched into the large structure, determined to shoo the hairless vermin out and get some peace whilst he waited for transfer beam return.

 

He smiled grimly, planning how hard to smack down the Navigator for this blunder.

 

The gabble stopped as two of the vermin, shrouded in thick leggings made of material the colour of their darkened sky looked over at him. The slightly taller, less rounded of the vermin let out a high pitched bellow, turned and started to run away.

 

“Aha, we have your position. Now, sire!” The Navigator’s disembodied voice was triumphant as the crackling transferring beam blasted through the enclosure, returning Auriyen and the the two screeching vermin aliens to the now empty cargo hold.

 

~~~~~~~~~

Brad and Meg Grayson had been arguing.

Again.

 

The ranch had been poorly managed for years as Brad chased one hopeless venture (and women ) after another across the state of Wyoming, his selfish plans of competitive bull riding ignoring both his  vows to marry his fiancé and the life savings Meg and her late father had sunk in the breeding ranch for their famed Texas Longhorn cattle.

 

Eight years in and Meg had had enough. Enough of the struggle of managing the ranch single handed after Brad took off again, and the increased costs. Even the death of her father last year had not swayed Brad to return and settle down. Instead he was still promising ‘This’ll be my big break. it’s just one more year, babe’ as he set off chasing the silver buckle from the rodeo competitions in his home state of Wyoming.

 

Then a few fays ago, rustlers had taken Major, the Longhorn prized bull and left no trace. With the ranch sale hanging on the quality of their stock of cattle, that loss had threatened the deal.

 

And had been the only thing to bring Brad back to salvage the sale.

 

“How could you have let Major get stolen and not inform the Rocking D?” Brad glared at Meg, his hand waving angrily out at the paddock and fields beyond the open barn.

“As buyers they need to know a day-”

 

“I did not ALLOW Major to get stolen, Brad! Jeez, anyone would think I rolled out the trailer and hooked it up to the rustler’s truck myself.” 

 

Meg thumped each clenched fists onto her waist, eyes flashing as she glared back at Brad. He could be a cruel ass sometimes.

 

“All I know is that a few nights ago a truck or SOMETHING came on to the land. No idea how they got past the font gate security.” Meg’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

 

“I saw the truck’s really bright head beams from the ranch house but, by the time I got the ATV out there, the herd including Major had disappeared.”

 

“Disappeared? That’s total bullsh-” Brad snarled, his voice drowned out suddenly as the afternoon quiet was shattered by a sudden loud bellow. Meg straightened. It was unmistakably Major. Followed by another, louder, deeper thundering bellow and the lowing and clamour of the rest of the herd.

 

Turning towards the sound, Brad and Meg strode to that end off barn. The hot afternoon sun streamed in, blinding them slightly as a huge hulking silhouette of a man appeared at the mouth of the barn. He clearly enjoyed Halloween, Meg thought as she squinted at the realistic curved horns fitted to his head.

 

“Now look here, mister-” Brad stuttered to a stop as the hulking male strode towards them.

 

Meg looked down, her heart seizing in her throat as she recognised the shape and backwards bend of his legs.

 

it was Major, or an idiot in a very good costume come to play out his Halloween demon bull cos-play fantasy 

 

The man had clearly been studying Major, but no, not quite Major. He was a massive guy, at least seven foot when dressed as he was as a brutish ram, caped in a large dark covering 

 

The silhouette man/ ram bared his teeth. They were large and -oh my heart- sharp and inhuman. 

 

This, it was soooo not man.

 ‘Oh god, aliens are real’ Meg thought terrified. 

 

Then, IT roared once, lowered its broad head. 

And charged. 

Charged into the barn, bellowing. 

It’s four fingered muscled arm pressed to the side of its head, as if in communication.

 

Four fingers! Meg turned, wincing at the high shriek that erupted from Brad. She gawped in shock watching as if in slow motion, Brad pushed her towards the charging beast. Meg screeched, watching as her fiancé left her and raced away. In the opposite direction. Babe or bail? Meg thought. ‘Welp I’ve got my answer….’ she thought distractedly.

 

The sun seemed to break through the barn roof, shining with a brightness that blinded Meg. Mid shout, she felt the air change, crackling with electricity then, there was nothing.

 

~~~~~~~~

 

Navigator Senroth did a double take at the transfer beam readings, gulped in horror and slammed his clawed hand on the termination pad. 

 

Dead. Stone dead.

He was going to be flayed alive by Uncle Auriyen, the captain.

 

In the cargo hold, the sudden loss of power made the transfer beam shimmer and then suddenly wink out, unceremoniously dumping the three beings collected from the planet surface.

 

“Oof!” Auriyen slammed into the floor of the thankfully decontaminated cargo hold, his cape protecting his back from being shredded as he skidded along the hard floor surface. The Navigator was a dead grunt. Baa’an Clan and his Hoof-Son be damned. By the Ram’s scrotum, he was going to slap the twist out of that Baa’an horns.

 

The vermin had landed on top of him. Awful pestilence. He reached up to pluck them off him but was too slow.

 

One vermin made another of those indecipherable throat noises, leapt up and scuttled away furiously on its four uneven limbs.

Auriyen pushed at the smaller one still draped on his muscled chest, intrigued. It smelled of warm honey and the silkiest of cream. Needing to rise, he rolled it unceremoniously off his broad sinew filled barrel chest. It landed on its side, tucked its lower longer hoof less legs under and rolled to a stop.

 

He staggered to his feet, groaning as he shook his broad head, his curved horns whispering harshly through the thick air.

 

Beside him the smaller of the blue planet’s vermin still lay, clearly sentient but most likely quite backward, its small eyes tightly closed. The mass of long furs on its head had tangled in a dark tangled mess across its face and shoulders.

 

The taller of the two vermin was definitely awake. 

But huddled in the furthest corner jabbering and mumbling to itself.  It gasped in terror as the forcefield at the doorway split to reveal the full contingent of the ship’s security detail –   the Baa’an Baron At Arms, plus eight Rangor warriors, armed from hoof to horns with blades, brandishing the plasma implosion canon and an impressive selection of the snub nosed disruption grenades. 

 

Even the Baron was twitchy.  One false move and the eager pad-loving fingers that hovered over the detonate pads on the grenades would clamp down, blowing a hole in the cargo hold large enough to suck even the flight crew out of their pod on the 64th level. Through their assholes. Before casting them and the crew into space.

 

For a hot, vicious second Aruiyen bared his teeth, thoughts full of Senroth, his torn and muddied uniform, and the disappointing primitive nature of the now-returned alien creatures. 

 

With the funds for herd and flock building ringfenced instead to fulfil the pronouncement, fewer and fewer females and calves were born each century, resulting in the rutting season appearing as a fertile period only once a decade. 

 

These aliens had been Oxenia Prime’s last hope.

 

Sighing Aruiyen held up one large hand wearily, staying their eager pre-emptive strike. 

 

The head of a serene Shara-ein, the technics officer, poked out from behind the cluster of armoured Rangor. Its flat oval iris narrowed in its huge yellow eyes as they darted around the hold. It’s jaw dropped, mouth gaped wide in wonder, horror or astonishment -with their classic grim grey faces, you could never tell with that lot. 

 

Its nose quivered as it surveyed the hold, empty now of all horned and still quadrupedal blue planet residents. In their place the two vermin and a slightly bruised captain.

 

“Stand down, the fuckn lot of you” Aruiyen growled low. 

 

Straightening he moved towards the security team. 

“Watch the vermin” he muttered.

“The small one with the nest on its face is awake. Has been since we arrived but is playing dead.” The Rangor chuckled.

“The larger one appears to be in shock. Or trying to communicate with its nest mate.” 

 

“Take that active  one back with the Shara-ein;  see if there is any tech to help us tame it.  If not, check its core orbs, see if it is fit for food, although with the pollution reported, anything from that planet needs a wide berth…” Auriyen stamped out of the cargo hold eager for the sonic cleanser to strip the filth from the planet. 

 

He dragged himself through the decontamination tunnel, cleaning himself of the filth on his hooves before stomping towards the bridge.

 

There was no avoiding it, the campaign had been a total fuckn broken horn, his thoughts were dark. 

 

Oxenia Prime was facing extinction and for what? He glanced out of the carrier viewing portals as he reached the transport for the bridge. The blue and white swirled sphere seemed to gleam innocently back at him. 

 

Snarling once he turned his back on the sight. With a determined face he stepped off the transport onto the bridge. He was spoiling for a good fight, a chance to let off steam before the humiliating journey back to O-Prime. 

 

He spied his target. 

“Navigator Senroth!!” Auriyen bellowed.

Ah. 

This would be a good hour of sparring at least.

Drahmen and the web of deceit (AILF3) Dark/Horror

πŸ˜±πŸ‘½Warning. Ok….So here’s the thing…I don’t like spiders (apart from Spider-Man) so this one’s a bit dark…πŸ‘½πŸ˜±

 Drohmen.jpg

Drohmen sat in the Central Navigation Hub, gazing at the readings from the holograph above his head.  Mealtime was fast arriving and he relished the hunt that preceded it. 

 

His chitin covered groin split open with a sucking turgid squelch, revealing the pale red sinew of his body, a row of eight quivering birth pouches filled just recently – courtesy of a belated mate. A pukhsac containing three newly formed claspers and his carefully coiled shaft lined with acid laden feeding suckers. 

 

He unfurled his digestion shaft, checking its thick coating of digestive paste that melted to an acidic numbing glue as it came into contact with the chilled air. It had been sufficiently replenished since his last meal he noted with satisfaction.  

 

He pressed the sides of his clasper pukhsac, relishing the small bite of pain as he squeezed. He was rewarded as the tip, then, the whole pale, newly created, curved clasper popped out of the head of the sac. 

 

Withdrawing the sharp hooked clasper to first smother the tip in digestive paste and then press the base securely into the centre of a feeding sucker was delicate, solitary work.  Many a Prelate had been found dead on the throne, groin gaping, having digested themselves from the inside out, or self poisoned through carefree clasper placement.

 

For Drohmen though, this was all part of the ongoing proof of his invulnerability, and excitement coursed through his skittering lower limbs as he successfully coated each expressed clasper, and embedded them, repairing the shaft. 

 

Time to hunt.

But first…

 

He reached out and tapped the holo comm screens, sending the pulse of latest Intel to the web of Arachnus Security Outposts

 

“A Terran stronghold station, that attacked our Elite station was seized by our illustrious traps. The vessel is in the process of being consumed for repurposing” Drohmen reported. 

 

“The Terran leaders of that enemy stronghold fled the destruction of the vessel in shuttles but have been apprehended. They had jettisoned a quantity of life storage pods filled with beings as a futile distraction to facilitate their escape.” Drohmen further relayed. 

 

He ran the underside of his feeding shaft lovingly over the row spawn pouches clinging to the top of his groin cavity. They were well fed and growing nicely. It was quite bad form to be so obscenely groin-splayed on Comm, but he had long convinced himself that petty rules such as those did not apply to an Elite Navigator. 

 

He petted each pouch, encouraging it to unfurl so he could dip a small amount of flesh pap regurgitated up from the acid bath of his inner stomach out of the end of the feeding shaft and into the tiny yawning clasper ringed mouths of his soon to be fully bred spawn.

 

“It seems that most of the pods were netted by the Races we approved for WebClearance or Scavenger licences. ” he continued. He retracted his shaft and closed his grain splay, the spawn feeding session completed. 

 

“Admittedly, a few Terran pods escaped this dimension…a slight flaw in the design, but nothing to bring unease.” Drohmen concluded his report.

 

congratulated himself smugly that the trio of upper eyes on the side of his head remained prominent and did not sink down into his skull as so often happened when he spoke error as truth. In any case, the dimension glitch was a small issue, he argued. One that he could fix. In time.

 

“That floating Terran stronghold has long been abandoned, Elite Prelate. It is one moon past since it fell into the Web” Prelate 8 hummed slyly. “What has become of the creatures?”  He snapped his upper and lower claspers tight to his oral opening 

 

“The Terrans recovered from the shuttles said they were ‘mels’. They said the fmels had been put in escape pods for safety. The mels Prime wanted to be ‘taken to your leader’. So he was, they all were” Drohmen slapped his claspers together over his mouth contentedly at the memory.

 

“A sample of the remaining mels Terrans have been shipped to all Outposts for provision replenishments. 

 

Drohmen waved his hand slowly, feigning piety as the missive was relayed to all outpost and his Prelates responded in a hum of praise to him, the merciful and boundless Elite Navigator. 

 

Prelates 8 and 64 pulled all but their prime eyes into their skulls and spread their oral claspers in homage murmuring quiet praise and thanks. “Enjoy the benevolent bounty of your Elite Navigator” he murmured a time honoured response. This last action would cement his rule for another eon. Drohmen was not about to be defeated, entombed in the throne of his successor, feasted upon, slowly, drained of his life fluids until nothing remained but his broken husk if he could help it.

 

“So …” There was a sudden awkward silence as Prelate 8 resumed his facial features and leaned forward. His prime eyes flicked from side to side. Watching. Calculating. Assessing.

 

“…do we also receive shipments of podded fmels?” he asked, ignoring the thick globules of web fluid that spilled through his claspers. The fluid hardened into the venomous silk produced and used by all Arachnussians for meal capture and consumption.

 

Prelate 64 sucked in a heavy fluid sodden breath, shocked at the brazen challenge. But he too, leaned forward to hear the response.

 

“My sorrows, no” Drohmen intoned quietly, “The Contracted Races secured most of these. Of the pods seized by my   Webcrawlers, no fmels were recovered…alive.”

 

Drohmen suddenly pushed close to the comm screen so only his primary eyes were visible. “Apologies Prelates, ” he said in a suspicious rush “I must  return to my duties. Transmission is ended” 

 

Drohmen cut the link to the holocomms and reclined slowly into his throne. He thought about Sub Prelate 8, a new but unsurprising challenger for position of the Elite Navigator. 8 had tipped his advantage and shown his eye, the webslack fool. No one questioned his honour and lived.

 

Sudden red hearted anger flooded his being and he jabbed at the Comm pad, his groin flaring open to release his unfurled 

 

His trio of side eyes, slowly re-emerged from being sunk deep into the side of his skull.

 

The air hummed as his web chamber vibrated slightly. He unlocked his claspers in preparation for the dainty delicacy that clambered through his domain, even now struggling in its futile bid to escape. 

 

Its high pitched wails were intoxicating, glorious.

 

 

Yes. His maiden meal was fast approaching.

Rad, the Impaler. AILF1

This is sooooooo #NSFW😈😈

Inspired – intruiged more like – by images posed by @LillyGriffin in the group Romance with Aliens that look like Aliens (https://www.facebook.com/groups/RwATLLA/ (you really need to join this group if you are into seriously freaky sh1tπŸ˜‚) I’ve offered up this smexy little scene for your amusement… 

 

Oh. I’ve named him Radyytchzz, or Rad for short.  

As in Rad, the Impaler… If you’d like more, or I get another hot flash if inspiros I’ll be adding to his story on my page.

Rad.jpg 

Radyytchzz glared hungrily at Persephone, his lean athletic frame humming with pent up sexual energy

“Yoooo have defied me for the last time, hoooomannnzz” he snarled. 

 

“The name is Seph, you big idiot!” She snapped, trying to lessen the shaky tone in her voice.  “I’m sick of being kept under armed guard, being waited on hand and foot all day in this lair. I’m off to the shops!”

 

Gripping her by the nape he spun her round, ignoring the poor disguise of a tray of pewter tankards and sweetmeats as it flew out of her hand. 

‘Oh, shit’ she mused worriedly  ‘I think I’ve done it this time’

 

“Erm, Rad? Rad, honey..”

 

“Do not Rad-honi me, I forbid it!” he muttered angrily, his grip tightening slightly as he steered her out of the flight atrium “Your words of subservience will not avert your punishment this time. If you are bred, you will be docile”

 

“Not bloody likely mate!” Seph muttered as Rad snatched the space shuttle tab from her hand and flung it at the terrified cadet. 

 

He slapped the tankard of frothy mead Seph had used as a bribe out of the cadet’s trembling grasp as he passed, his baleful glare at the shaking novice promising a later retribution. He frog marched her across the courtyard, into the banqueting dome and straight  to his main feasting table.

 

The boisterous second meal chatter and eerie seductive music died away, as his closest battalion officers and bevy of serving wenches watched him stride straight to the centre of the hall. He held Steph, his curvy and less than one month contracted Barter-Bride still, shaking her a little as she started to squirm  as he swept the feast of roast grydxch, mead and pewter dining service off the large round feasting table. 

 

Rad had tracked her to the shuttle bay. He knew he should administer the public belting the Empire’s rules demanded for attempted runaways. 

But he could not. 

 

Not when his thoughts thickened so. 

 

His jaw ached from how hard he tried to subdue his arousal. He ground the swollen mating pads in his throat, bringing slight relief, but causing the pre thrust dominance venom to boil up into his upper jaw and flood his small holding fangs. 

 

His white hot haze of anger and lust grew as he remembered not five tikks earlier entering the domed hall, sitting down to his once weekly feed when Groff, his second in command had tapped him playfully on the shoulder to rumble “A feisty Terran bride you have bartered. I envy you”.

 

Rad had looked around, noting his Barter-bride was not sitting on her overstuffed pillow by his leather boots. The spot he distinctly remembered placing her with stern instructions to await him whilst he returned to complete the battle strategy report to Prime V.

 

“Where is the female?” Rad had ground out, his throat pulsed as his dominance pads filled with mating venom. He trusted the honour of his men implicitly, even though she was a tasty morsel of woman.

 

Maybe she had wandered out to the adjoining night garden, The blooms of the curated alien plant species of the Nuknuk plant had a heady fragrance and fruit reminded her of a temple she called a Cho-late-faa-Tri. Whatever that was.

 

Groff, the burly gredfgts ass that he was, had stabbed his warrior’s tri-bladed feeding dagger into a large vat of small wriggling salted pfodeph, unhinged his jaw to hoover them into his maw and swallow them almost whole before wiping the blades on the feasting cloth draped over his thigh. His jaw gaped in a genuine grin as he replied casually. “With the shuttles.”

 

“Why? What is my female doing?”

 

“Escaping.” Groff had shrugged, then dumped a gallon of mead down his throat, swinging his lower jaw from side to side with satisfaction as the thick bubbling purple liquor burned its way down his throat into his fourth stomach chamber. 

 

“I figure you have got 10 tikk before she sweet-talks that fool cadet of mine into opening the flight atrium and giving her clearance and a shuttle tab.”

 

“Wait. What? For the sake of Fukk…!” Rad mangled the prayer his bride was particularly fond of uttering to one of the Terran deities, swung off his stool and stomped out of the feeding dome, scattering soldiers in his wake.

 

Now he was back. 

With Seph. A cleared level surface beneath him. And a months worth of breeding in his seeding pouch. Hot, leaden, aching for release, swelling behind his mandibles.

 

Groff glanced over at the pair. Grabbing a tray of salted pfodeph up off the stone floor that had somehow miraculously remained unscathed from Rad sweeping arm, he chuckled back at Seph who small eyed him, hissing “Traitor!”

 

“Yooo know what to expect for defiance” Rad snarled in her ear, his throbbing member snaking out unbidden from his mating gape to slide ans lick suggestively over his small Terran’s hearing appendage. It was flushed, like her heaving teats that were barely concealed under her silken barter-mate coverings. Seph shuddered, a breathy moan puffing through her strange, pouty oral opening. She smelled like the seas on his home world, salty and wild. But also like michief, promise and oh so fertile female.

 

Rad’s mind curdled into a haze of white lust when her eyes opened wider as she spied his snub tipped grip-spur extruding between his lower jaws as they lengthened and opened. He watched mesmerised as his silvery mating oils dripped from his jaws, falling slickly onto her throat to run like a dark promise over her skin to drip at her dusky pointed teats and silken cleavage.

 

Rad turned her, and in one fluid movement grappled the soft pillows from the floor, placed them on the cleared feasting table, dumped his bride on top of the cushions, grabbed her arms and tied them with his unused feasting cloth to the table struts.

 

“Not. One. Utterance” he leaned over her, his hot, molten sandalwood breath coasted over her neck before his arm darted forward, grabbing her throat in a gentle but dominant hold.

 

“Out!” He growled suddenly, glaring over his shoulder, the single word falling thick and slurred as his jaw gaped wider.

 

“Come on you blathering fools, you heard our leader. He has a bride to seed” Groff, his trusted second in command took one look at Rad’s glowing silver eyes, nodded sharply in understanding before turning to roughly jostle servers and battalion captains out. The heated heaving pants of Rad and his bride soon were the only sound in the large dome.

 

Rad turned back to his bride, slowly dropping to his knees, He released her throat to grip her thighs and slide them under his lower jaw, which lengthened to hold her in place, his large lower fangs curving along the outside of each hip, a sharp incentive to be still, not to flee, a reminder of him, the predator in control. 

 

His mating venom spilled freely now onto her lower torso and thighs, ramping up her libido as each drop was absorbed into her soft silken skin.  He glanced between her thighs, nostrils flaring, sucking in the moist air laden with her sweet pheromones, noting the slick crystal clear honey that now bathed her strange rosy breed-receptacle which had opened like petals, further driving him insane with lust.

 

He groaned with satisfaction as his grip-spur, also slick with mating venom, slid into place into her forbidden secondary vent, pushing slowly past the puckered opening to further immobilise his prey, his mate. His everything.

 

He dipped forward greedily in response to her moan of desire, biting down, his mating fangs slid into the upper flesh of her swollen mons to pump his dominance venom into her blood stream. He slid his jaw unhinged fully, allowing him to thrust his throbbing, swollen thickly veined mating shaft into her hot, wet vent. His grip on her thighs tightened, a growl of satisfaction rumbling through his chest as her sodden warmth gripped tight his oral shaft.  

 

He had bedded many females during his world conquests, given to the ruling commanders as tribute for defeats. During those ceremonial claimings his multiple mating shafts were deployed either through his inside wrist or pelvic openings. This was the first time and last he vowed, that he had truly mated a female. In the time honoured way of the Ancients. Up close. Face to vent/s. Personal. As personal as one of his kind could get.

 

Seph, his barter bride had wide glazed eyes, but now they were blinking slowly, her body drugged with passion. And her small, pouting oral opening had opened further, the soft pink flushed inner area causing a white hot thought to streak through his mind. ‘Another open receptacle for bed sport. But, another time’ his mind swirled with the forbidden depravity of that thought, tipping him over the edge.

 

HIs eyes rolled back in ecstasy, the silvery light from his internal umbra pulsing under his skin, radiating out of the twin eye orbs in time with his unhurried thrusts. 

 

Beams of umbra white light flared from his eye sockets, alternately roaming across the domed ceiling – ‘like 20th Century Fox search lights’ Seph thought dreamily – before switching to pulse bright then dim.  In the darkened dome Rad’s umbra light turned them into a rapid flickering display, on and off, a tableau of hulking alien commander, his mates legs spread wide, caught on each side of his shoulder saddle as he stroked in and out, filling his flushed mate with unending slick ropes of his breeding seed.

 

Seph moaned in an urgent pulsating release as his invasion became rougher, deeper. Ripping her hands free of the loosely tied bonds, she grabbed the tips of his sensitive bone face plate, slung to the back of his head when not in battle to denote the crown of his status. Screaming in ecstasy, her toes curled into gang signs, writhing whilst Rad became stock still, his frame hardening as if turned to stone.

 

The wetly obscene thrust and withdrawal of his mating shaft was the only sound joining her increasingly impassioned cries…but then, she felt them, slippery dull thuds as a jellied string of pearlised eggs forced their way up and out through the thickened head of his meaty veined ovipositor shaft that now had thrust and breached her cervix to lodge deep in her womb…

 

Rad the Impaler…coming soon to a FB group about Aliens. Probably never…πŸ‘½πŸ˜πŸ˜‚β­οΈπŸ’•

 

With thanks for inspiration (and humble apologies) to Ruby Dixon, Stephanie West , Laurann Dohner, Cynthia Sax, Tiffany Roberts, Susan Trombley Poppy Rhys and all my other favourite alien-human indie authors.

You have ruined me, ladies. Truly ruined me…πŸ˜‚πŸ˜

Pets: Bebe by Darla Phelps

Bebe (Pets #3)Bebe by Darla Phelps

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Read ALL three books first before passing judgement

So I read the other two books in the series with interest but wasn’t really engaged and the story seemed a bit off, don’t know why.

But this, the final instalment of the Pers series was a good conclusion of what appeared to be a never ending spa fest and miscommunication.

Bebe happens Pani’s Story over 25 years after both Bach’s Story and Pani’s Story and shows interaction between the ‘monsters and a captive born human leads to the ending of the Pet trade on this alien planet.

Tral was a delight and Phelps’ ability to reflect his dorkish mannerisms and speech added entertainment to what could have been just a dark and soulless recounting of alien slavers: 

Grit your teeth, suspend your personal views and just read all three books before you pass judgement. 

Well worth the time even if, like me, you’re not particularly into spanking and age-play.

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