Thirst - Page 4

Seeding frenzy riding him hard, Glabrx found himself mesmerized with parts of the creature beyond its mating recess—though a thorough inspection of that delicious channel would be conducted soon enough. Its hands possessed five digits just like his, but lacked a third knuckle and claws. Human nails were flimsy, this one’s having been cut short to prevent self-harm. Atop its skull, long hair—a pelt as the flesh merchant had called it—hung, waving over his leg. Special soaps had been purchased to keep it shiny, all at great expense. Twisting his tentacles through it now, made him doubly sure the money had been well spent.

Compared to his hairless body, the female was different, soft, and covered in light fuzz.

Free of the milking machine, its breasts were bloating with accumulating milk. He intended to leave her that way. To indulge now would be to throw away an early training opportunity and a joyous domination for him. His pet had to be awake so he might stimulate it while he fed. He wanted to hear it squeak, feel it fight, and enjoy the first moment it would submit to his authority.

That didn’t stop his twin tongues from lolling long from his mouth to catch the droplets the human’s nipples leaked.

The taste was delightful.

At the brush of her flesh, the female grumbled in sleep, tensing momentarily then relaxing into the heat of its owner. Smooth, creamy skin changed, tiny bumps erupting over the surface—the cutis anserina effect: a sign of pleasure, euphoria, fear, or cold. Vasodilation brought a blush to her skin anywhere his hand stroked.

It was pleasing to know the pet would be unable to hide its reactions to his ministrations.

What simple animals…

Wrist tangled in his feeler, up went the human’s arm. He bent the joints, manipulated the elbow to learn the creature’s limitation. Until evolution favored humans, they would never have the strength of Necrimata physiology. Its knee bent the wrong direction. This female would be unable to jump very high, run quickly, or employ any sort of camouflage.

No wonder they were a protected species on their small polluted planet.

Chuckling at her limitations, excited by the prospect of exploiting them, Glabrx chortled with anticipated delight. He could not hunt his pet as he could a vicious beast, such an endeavor would bore him, but he could influence its thinking… make her mental prey. He would chase and corner this soft-skinned creature with his every action, all the while fucking it at his leisure, harvesting an army of spawn for the homeworld.

His flange flared at the thought, edging forward to prod at the human’s belly.

The reaction was automatic. Glabrx could control an aroused flange about as well as a Beruse Wind Spider could catch a fish. Without intervention, it would try to penetrate the human’s cunt.

Fucking limp prey was beneath him. A true warrior required his vessel to struggle.

Wrapping a meaty hand around the base of his member, he squeezed hard enough to disrupt blood flow. Flange flailing, in a course of minutes it withered back to a hanging, ridged trunk of flesh that refused to fully retract into his body. He laid it across the human’s soft belly, smearing that tender skin with a leaking dribble of bright blue fluid.

The same blue had discolored the flesh between its legs, marking it as Glabrx’s property. Seeing it had pleased him. Eager to view it again, his tentacles adjusted their hold, circling her thighs to spread her lower limbs. The flesh merchant had seen her bathed, but the spawn nutrient splatter had stained those soft folds. Using his forefinger and thumb, he spread open those vertical lips and inspected the layered folds of its sex organ. The female’s nerve bundle was flaccid, the mating recess unlubricated. It seemed such a small hole, yet held amazing potential. Spreading her farther, testing the limits that slit might stretch with only his hands, Glabrx memorized all he found.

Pretty was not a word used often in Necrimata language, but it was the only fitting term for this pillowed slit. The stain of his excretions had only enhanced the cunt’s appeal. It had even blended his scent with her aroma in a way that made him long to lick her there.

Remembering the words of the merchant, Glabrx twisted the idea into fresh territory. “Feed from your pet.”

He could savor the tang of this organ at his leisure, fill his pet with both his tongues to gather the sweetness.

“It will want to fuck you.”

And how did human’s fuck? Considering the scent, the taste, and the feel of this pet, human sex had a likelihood of amusing him—though nothing would fulfil a warrior’s needs like a rough and thorough Necrimata seeding.

Already he could feel his body developing spawn at an accelerated rate. This pet would be used over and over until his season abated, and then it would be leased to comrades he favored. The idea of watching another Necrimata warrior fuck his pet a

roused his flange again.

Would it scream its song? Would it take warrior after warrior to please its master?

He could train it to do all these things. It might even offer rare entertainment to see the female mated by beasts and creatures of an equally exotic variety.

***

He’d carried it tangled in his tentacles for hours while seeing to his ship, a little limp human female burden. More than once it had grumbled, trying to move past the strong sedative. Glabrx had spoken to it, testing the translation mechanics implanted in the human’s brain.

Over and over, he growled, “I am Glabrx. I am your master.”

When the female felt the rumbling clicks of his speech, when translation had muddled through its dreams, she tried to touch her ears.

“I am your master.”

Tags: Addison Cain Science Fiction
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