Wrecked: A Dark Sci-Fi Romance Read online

  “Me-at...” He thinks for a second. “Hunzch,” he translates for the benefit of the several others.

  They laugh as one, making me feel small.

  “You are not meat. You are human.”

  How does he know? He is unclothed, as primitive a beast as I have ever laid eyes on. He looks more animal than man.

  “Humans are not good eating,” he clarifies, making me think that humans must have been here before, and ended up being consumed to their displeasure.

  “Please,” I whimper, bringing my knees to my chest and my arms around my legs. “Don’t hurt me.”

  I do not know how to defend myself. Even if I did know by what means a beast like this one might be defeated, I would not be able to lift a finger to him. Everything about his presence is pure intimidation.

  He crouches down next to me, his body so much bigger because it is so much closer. I am overwhelmed instantly, becoming faint and dizzy. Heat emanates from him, and when he puts a hand on my arm to steady me, I feel as though bright sunlight is shining on that particular part of my skin.

  This is a very alien creature. I should be used to other forms of life. The Vargons are very different from us, but they disgust me. They are slime-ridden and they have no legs. They undulate along the ground leaving a trail behind them. This creature’s legs are thick, powerful, and there is an organ between them that draws my attention instantly, a thick hard length of flesh pressed up against his lower body. It does not disgust me. It intrigues me.

  I flinch at his touch, a sound somewhere between a whimper and an animalistic growl escaping my lips.

  “Shhh.” He makes the sound as he tightens his grip on not one of my arms, but both of them, lifting me from the ground. My breeding takes over. I was created to not resist the will of authority, and he is as great an authority as I have ever encountered.

  He lifts me up, up into the air and puts me over his shoulder to hold me, my hips pressed against the fulcrum of his hard body. One of his hands splays across my cheeks, two fingers on each side, one slipping right down the middle of the crevice where it presses firmly along another sensitive part of my body, rubbing my anus.

  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.

  I look into the big, brutal face of the alien holding me, and I hope he is not as cruel as he looks. If he is, I still can’t help myself. I am caught in a powerful vortex of wild emotion, my senses suddenly exposed to all the wonders of a world and my own internal desires.

  His expression softens. He can read the desperation on my face. See the grazes and bruises that should, by all rights, be broken bones and deep gashes.

  How did I survive?

  The question echoes around my head, then gets lost in the mix of everything else. He leans down, his hair falling over his face and mine, a dark curtain that cuts out the rest of the world. I see his dark eyes, nearly black, drawing me in.

  “Stop,” he repeats. “Or... I... won’t...”

  I buck my hips forward. How do I stop what I cannot control? My body is not mine. Has never been mine. I am a collection of dirty, hungry impulses and questions, and he is the answer to all of them.

  He lets out a sigh and gestures to the others. “Igz vizla sinsoday.”

  They saunter off ahead of us, three broad-shouldered beasts leaving us to the red desert dust.

  “You,” he says, pausing as if searching for a word. “Have to...”

  The words are so uncomfortable and foreign on his tongue, but he knows them. He must be a very intelligent creature to be able to speak the language of those from other stars. I understand Vargons enough to know that I am not on the planet I was born on. I have been taken far away, I have been cast into the winds, a
nd now I am wrapped in the arms of a beast who I can barely communicate with.

  He touches me. He pulls me close and he starts to give me what I need. But it is not what I expect. There is a hunger between my thighs that I know can only be sated with the rough thrust of a hard cock.

  That is not what happens. He is hard, but I do not receive that hardness. Instead he pins me against his body, swipes some of the wetness from my pussy and presses the hot finger back where it was. This time, the tight ring of muscle doesn’t stay tight. It gives way slowly to him, allows him inside me, and I feel my body become host to another being, the tip of his hot finger sinking inside me.

  “Ungh,” I grunt.

  He pulls it free, then pushes it back again.

  “You stop, when I say,” he growls. “You will... obey me.”

  His words are halting, delivered between the grunts and moans escaping my mouth. My bottom has become the nexus of his authority. He is teaching me a lesson of obedience, and that is why there is a tightness and a sternness. I am not getting what I want. I am taking what he wants to give.

  “Please,” I whine.

  “Do as I say,” he repeats. “Tell me you understand.”

  Do I understand? I know I feel the heat of his finger burning away inside my bottom. I know that he could hurt me if he wanted to, but he’s using a very specific piece of my body to make his point.

  We do not have many words. We do not know one another at all. We are strangers from strange worlds, but this is a point of connection I understand.

  “Yes,” I gasp as his digit sinks further inside me.

  “There is... time for this,” he says. “But not now. Not here. Is... danger.”

  I do not see any danger other than him, but I believe him. The size and power of this creature, if he is concerned about something out here, then I am too.

  He pulls his finger free of the tight hole between my cheeks and picks me up again. This time, he doesn’t throw me over his shoulder. Instead, he holds me close to his body, letting me wrap my legs around his waist as he starts to move toward the tall rocky outcroppings in the distance. They look like shelter. That’s what I need. This big world with its unseen danger is too much for me. I want to hide. For the moment, the only cover is his bulk and his hair. I feel the planes of his musculature against me, the soft curtain of his hair blocking out the strangeness of the world that threatens to rush in on me.

  * * *

  Isu

  The human clings to me and I feel a surge of protection rushing through my veins.

  She is small, soft, scared. She is bruised, but not broken. She is strong, though she trembles with the fear of her weakness. I have seen many beautiful things in my warrior life, but there is something so simply elegant and desirable about the unclothed human with a cheap collar about her throat, wrists, and ankles.

  There is an animal impulse to spread her legs and thrust myself inside her, claim that channel that I know awaits me, hot, soft, clenching flesh that grips any rod plunged inside it with a greedy need for seed.

  I know the effect our kind have on human females. I also know that it would a bad idea to mate with her out here in the open. The skies are clear for the moment, but they always come looking for their ships when we bring them down, and I want to be back under cover.

  She is showing signs of being unable to contain herself. I can smell her desire, feel the viscous juices of a woman in heat. She is ready to be fucked, long and hard, and I will give her every bit of flesh she’s begging for. But not on her terms. On mine. And not while we are out here, exposed to anything that might fly by and become curious.

  We need to get back underground. Soon enough, the Vargons will come and inspect the debris, as they always do. We are not afraid of the Vargons. We despise them, and we prefer that they do not know where we are.

  I want to let this little human know that she is safe, but I cannot let her give in to her desire. Not yet.

  She’s very beautiful. She’s a treasure. A delicate little thing who has been brutalized the same way the Vargons brutalize everything. They are acid. Corrosive. We are fire. Both our species are naturally destructive, but we are warriors and they are nothing but opportunistic slime.

  The rocks disguise the entrance to the underground, a passage that winds down to the subterranean lair where we make our homes. The human presses tighter to me as darkness envelops her. She cannot see down here the way we can.

  To my gaze, the world below ground is far more beautiful than the one above. There is more subtlety, more richness. Veins of ores run through the rock, which begins red and gradates through to the black obsidian where we make our homes.

  There is an urge to take the human to my personal burrow, to give into the instinct between us, but she must be presented. Every new lander on the planet must be seen by the eyes of the council. They are old, older than the world itself, so it is said, and they make the judgement of life or death.

  She clings to me. She clings to life. I would already die to save her, but the elders need to see her. The planet has called her, but they must welcome her. The others have gone ahead and announced her discovery, I am sure. The elders will be gathered in the first chamber to greet and pass judgement.

  I do not think the cleaning party is done yet. When their task is complete, the debris of the ship will be gathered and secreted below the sands. In a few hours, there will be no evidence of the crash whatsoever. There will only be her, my human conquest.

  Sure enough, the lamps are lit outside the grand chamber that stands beneath the earth at the entrance to our world. All newcomers find themselves in this chamber. Not many ever leave it.

  We guard our world jealously. We do not allow outsiders beneath the sands but in one capacity. As possessions. If this human survives, it will be as my owned property.

  “M’uklahk dizlahk sisi vinu.”

  I tell them that I am here with a new lander. They already know that. They already know everything, but it doesn’t feel right to walk into their presence without saying a word.

  “Ehkbal ignu, M’uklahk,” they reply as one.

  I look down at the human. She is peering out from my arms. I know she can’t see very much, but I also know her curiosity may cause her to make obscene, irreverent eye contact with an elder. They are the ones who gaze, not the ones who are gazed upon.

  “Be quiet,” I warn her, as I bring her into their presence. “Close your eyes. Be still.”

  The elders are not as we are. I am young. Powerful. Warrior. They are old, wizened, hardened like the rocks. Even I know better than to look upon them and try to make out their features.

  The human follows my directions. She whimpers and hides her head in my hair, burrowing in deeply. She is wise to hide, but she could cover herself completely and it would do nothing. The way they see has nothing to do with eyes.

  “Ezsack disvil.”

  They command me to present her in the old words. I stand in the center of the chamber and I let her curl into me. She can’t see them, but I have no doubt she senses them. Their presence is strong. Dark. Powerful. I feel her trembling against me as she tries to hide from what cannot be hidden from.

  “You have not always been obedient,” the elders say. Usually they only speak to the one being presented. Most of my kind never approach the elders. They scuttle below, deeper, contained closer to the core. They would no sooner approach the surface than they would fling themselves into deep space.

  The elders know me by many titles. The rebel. The warrior. The one who saved the burrow. The one who lied. The one who killed. The one who survived. My presence is still tolerated here because I am one of the few who will not hide when the end comes—and we know that the end will come. It lurks above us in bright cosmic trails every day, reminding us that the isolation of our planet is coming to an end.

  I stay silent. To speak would be to waste words when they can already see what is in my heart. They turn their attention to the human in my arms. br />
  “Put her down.”

  I do so reluctantly. As I suspect, she reaches for me as soon as I try to disengage from her. She is alone in the dark, surrounded by strangers. Her fingers try to curl around my arm. I have to brush them away and hear her whimper of disconnection.

  * * *

  Aspel

  I am alone. And I am being surrounded. Everything is dark, a kind of dark my eyes cannot adjust to. But I can feel a deeper darkness surrounding me.

  The farm was always bright and clean. We could always see, even at night. They kept the lights on low so we could see and be seen. This place is precisely the opposite. There is dirt and grit and dark all around me.

  I can’t see him. Can’t feel him. It is cold in here without him. I begin to shiver as the darkness closes in, a soft scream escaping me when something hard touches my leg.

  It’s a rock. There were no rocks on the farm. There was nothing but clean surfaces sprayed down daily. I am used to a bright, smooth, clean world, one where the routine is followed from the moment of waking to the moment of sleep. Even the end, when it came for me, felt familiar.

  Now nothing does. Now I have a clawing craving to return to the farm, to the place I know, to be the thing I know how to be. But there is no going back. Not now that I know what was in store for me.

  I am overwhelmed. Frightened. I call out for the hot beast who pulled me from the sand. I do not know his name, but I know how to cry.

  “Please! Help me!”

  “Shhhh,” his voice comes from the deep dark. “Do not fear, little one, you are safe.”

  He tells me that I am safe, and I believe him because I have to. In this world of pain and darkness, I have to believe in something.

  * * *

  Isu

  “You speak the language of the humans,” the elder says to me. I find myself mentally translating his words to the standard tongue, as I know I will have to use it with my girl for a long time. Humans seem to have problems with our speech, because it is more than sound. It exists in an extra dimension they have no access to.