Scratch (Feral Aliens) Read online

  This human is desirable. Very desirable. She has full curves and beautiful skin. Her features have an edge to them, a pouting, sneering sort of disobedience which resonates with me.

  She’s nothing like the human I lived with. That woman was sweet and kind and somewhat repressed. I don’t think Pixie has repressed anything in her life. She expresses every thought, every word that flashes through her human mind.

  I want to fuck her.

  I want to claim her.

  I want to turn those curses and sneers into screams and moans.

  She’s not telling me to fuck off. Those pouting lips of hers are full and flushing red with desire she doesn’t want to have, but can’t help. This human is like an open book to me. I don’t know if it is because of my time on earth, or my surging desire, but I can see her thoughts in her eyes, and written across her face.

  I don’t know how long I have left to live. This body I’m in may collapse at any time, or there’s a chance that I’ll be killed by the wild cats who think I am a city invader. This might be my last chance to make love to anyone.

  She’s injured.

  This is wrong. But so is everything I’ve done from the moment I opened my eyes as a cub.

  “You’re hot,” she groans. “Untie me.”

  I reach down and tug at the bindings. Shanti didn’t bother to secure her with any real effort. She thinks humans are weak. I’ve heard the way the matriarch discusses the other human while she’s asleep. There’s always a pitying note to her voice, as if Pixie isn’t really a fully adult creature. But she is. She is a beautiful human woman, with all the carnal appetites that entails.

  “I want your mouth,” I tell her.

  She licks her lips then parts them in easy invitation. I can’t take her pussy without hurting her, but I can fuck her mouth. This is wrong, but the wrongness of it seems to excite us both. I can see it in her eyes, the way she glances toward the curtain where Shanti left and then back up at me with a little dimpled smirk.

  “What if we get caught?”

  “We’re both already caught,” I tell her. “Question is, what are you prepared to do to get un-caught?”

  I don't know if I can help her escape, but I’ll try. Thoughts of freedom are pretty far from my mind right now. All I want to do is sink myself inside some tight part of her body and spill my seed inside her. It’s a biological imperative heightened by the danger we both find ourselves in.

  It takes a certain kind of girl to hide from fear in sex, but she’s that kind of girl.

  I extend my hand to her hair and cup the back of her head. She opens her mouth a little wider, extending that sweet pink-tipped tongue. I growl with lust. She’s going to break this body. I can feel my cock extending from its sheath, and I push my suit down to free it.

  “Wow," she whispers. “That’s a nice dick. I thought it would be weirder…”

  “One size fits all, and it’s all for you. Good girl,” I say, urging her head gently forward onto it.

  This is wrong. Morally, practically, just wrong. But neither of us really care. Both of us want this, complete strangers taking carnal comfort in the simple physicality of sexual expression.

  The moment my cock touches the inside of her mouth, I feel everything inside me tighten. I feel the promise of ejaculation and the impending release of climax. Yes, it’s quick, but it has to be. We are not going to be left alone here for long.

  My cock surges between her lips, back and forth, in and out, taking refuge in her mouth. With every motion, I feel this body start to become more like my own. I remember what it is to be fully grimalkin, to have the physical strength, and the expanded intellect which is now all turned to the simple task of taking pleasure from this willing human vessel.

  Is this opportunistic? Definitely. That’s who and what I am. An opportunist making the best of a bad situation. Though I don’t know if I would call this a bad situation anymore. This feels good. So fucking good.

  I can see her fingers reaching down between her thighs. I wonder how many times she has done this before, how often she’s taken a man in her mouth just because he wanted her body. I know they don’t encourage this behavior on Earth. Women are told to be chaste and pure, to save themselves, or if they really must give their bodies, to give them to someone of status.

  This female clearly rejects all that programming. She’s hot and wet, and willing. She’s a dirty, naughty little fuck toy, a perfect human pet.

  “Did you have a mate on your planet?” I ask the question with my cock in her mouth. She can’t answer, except to shake her head no.

  “You’re my mate now,” I tell her, surprising myself with the declaration, but meaning it to the core of my being, and hers.

  The words are coming of their own accord. I’ve never had a mate before. I’ve mated with plenty of females, but this is already different. This is an intensity of sexual connection which makes me plunge to the back of her throat, stretching her lips and using her mouth as if it’s always been mine.

  On any planet, this is considered promiscuous behavior. But she’s into it. She’s making little moaning, suckling noises around my cock and pushing her hand between her legs.

  I slap it away, growling with dark amusement as her eyes widen.

  “I’ll touch you,” I tell her, reaching down under her skirt to find her bare sex. She’s not wearing underwear.

  “Naughty,” I chide her as my fingers drift along her sopping slit, then up to find a tight little bud at the apex of her lips. The second I touch it, her lips contract around me and a deep moan escapes her throat, vibrating through my cock. That must be the pleasure button.

  I work it in slow circles, testing the capacity of her sex and finding her slicker and wetter with every thrust I take. Fuck yes. I like this girl. She has a very attractive form, and it writhes slowly, curves undulating with the motion of her hips, thighs parting to give me access to the core of her.

  I’m entranced. I’ve mated many women in my time; in the years I inhabited my original self I was prolific in my sexual experiences. But this woman is different. Is it just because she is human? I love the way her tongue laps the underside of my cock, teasing it to ever harder states of desire.

  I am starting to swell. My seed is beginning to rise. I strum her clit in time with my own need, urging her toward whatever climax she might be capable of before we are interrupted.

  The room is full of wet sounds, grunts, whimpers of desire, and the smell of her sex, the particular pheromones of her perfect human form drawn up through my nostrils and into the core of my new body.

  Her hips jerk against my hand, her thighs quivering in what I hope is release, because I am coming too, my seed filling her mouth in thick bursts as my cock swells and releases its potency inside her.

  Fuck. Yes. This is what I have needed. Orgasm. The roaring experience rushing all the way through me from flesh to fur. It is a full body experience, one which I feel binding my soul and consciousness with this new flesh. I don’t know who it was who departed this physical form, but I feel no trace of him. He’s gone, his consciousness sucked away to the void of rebirth, and I am here. Clothed in new meat and bone, given yet another chance to survive.

  She’s helped me, this wet, willing little human with the short skirt and the complete absence of underwear. I owe her a debt.

  No sooner has the ringing in my ears subsided than I hear Shanti returning. She’s talking to one of the others just beyond the curtain and I know we have a matter of seconds before she is back in the room.

  I look down at the human, her mouth still full of my seed, then we both stare at the doorway. I look back at her. I have no idea what she’s going to do with that cum, but it’s going to be impossible for her to give Shanti attitude with a mouth full of it.

  Pixie swallows, and smiles, winking at me as I retreat to my bed, and we both prepare to pretend that the sex in the air has nothing to do with us.

  I’ve stolen many things in my time, but that might h
ave been the most pleasurable of them all.

  Shit. Wait.

  I dart forward again, my injured body complaining as I re-fasten her ties.

  “Can't have them knowing what we just did,” Pixie smirks at me.

  “I like you tied down,” I tell her. “Next time, I might not untie you at all.”

  She just grins at me. There’s no innocence in her eyes. Just pure mischief and radical disobedience.

  Is this new body prone to stomach flipping intensity, or am I falling for a human?

  3 Boned

  Pixie

  He’s back on his bed before Shanti comes back, his cock tucked back away in his uniform, leaving me with nothing but the taste of alien seed in my mouth, and the hope that he’ll make good on his promise soon.

  That’s not the filthiest thing I’ve done. It’s not even the dirtiest thing I’ve done this week. I don’t have a lot to trade on. My body has always been the easiest thing to sell. I guess even alien guys know a girl like me when they see one.

  Shanti comes bustling into the room with food. The rich smell of cooked meat overpowers the sinful scent of what Scratch and I were doing in her absence.

  “I’m going to untie you, so that you can sit up and eat,” she tells me. “But I want you to stay in bed.”

  “Oh, thank you,” I say, ever so polite.

  I can still feel the memory of his big alien paw on my pussy, rubbing me to a quick and dirty climax. That has improved my mood immensely.

  She turns to Scratch on the other side. “You seem to be of a more sensible temperament. Perhaps you can act as a good example to our human guest.”

  God, he has her fooled. That guy's not a good example to anyone, but I’m not going to out him. He just became my partner in crime. My sexy partner in crime. Unlike the lady, he seems to know a way out and is prepared to share it with me. That’s what I call progress.

  Shanti frees me for a second time.

  “Wow. That feels so good. Mmm freedom,” I say, stretching my arms so she thinks it’s totally the first time I’ve been let go.

  Scratch doesn’t make eye contact with me when I sit up. I think he’s trying to act as though we weren’t just basically fucking. Smart.

  Now that I’m untied, I could run away, but I’m hungry and the food still smells amazing. She hands me a ceramic plate and I sit on the bed and eat. It’s all strips of meat cut very thin and charred over a flame, I’m guessing, before being dashed with salted herbs. It’s fucking delicious. And I’m feeling a lot better. Whatever was sort of mashed up and broken inside me is at least healed enough to eat comfortably.

  Did I just need dick? Does his cock have healing properties? Science will never know.

  “Holy shit, this is amazing!”

  Shanti smiles broadly, the way mothers do when their cooking is appreciated. I can tell she already likes me more than she did. And that’s a sentiment which goes both ways, because I like her a lot more than I did five minutes ago.

  “Wow. Seriously. Yum.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  I’ve been really rude to her, but that’s mostly because I thought she was a hallucination, or a dream, and it doesn’t matter if you’re rude to your dreams because they’re just your own brain. But my brain doesn’t make food this good. It makes bad decisions which lead to worse outcomes. Sucking a feline alien’s dick? That’s well within the realm of being off my tits. Wholesome good food? I’ve never tripped that hard before.

  Accepting that Shanti is real means accepting that this is all real, and accepting that I’m on another planet with aliens who bear no small resemblance to wild felines. Lions, panthers, tigers, oh fucking my.

  I can deal with this, I tell myself silently. I once dealt with waking up in a red lit window in Amsterdam, and that was arguably more scary than this, because I was pretty sure I’d been trafficked. Turned out I’d fought a stripper. Anywayyy… Anybody who has spent enough time on Earth is probably ready to deal with aliens. Humans are fucked up.

  “So what now?”

  “You get better,” Shanti says.

  “Am I going to end up as one of these strips of meat?”

  “No. If that were the case, we would have put you out of your misery already,” she says. “We are not cruel to those who depend on us.”

  “Will you help me get home?”

  There is a long pause before she replies. “You are a very long way from home, and the means by which you came here is not available anymore. You may have to stay.”

  Have to. I don’t have to do a damn thing. Except finish my food.

  Scratch

  I watch Pixie eat, and think about her proposition.

  Running away with a human will be dangerous. The city is a long way from this village. We’re talking weeks, if not months of journeying. The human does not look fit. She does not look well. And in spite of that, she still looks hot as hell.

  Instinct makes me want to rise from this bed where I sit eating Shanti’s meats and plunge myself right back inside her. I refrain, in large part because I do not want Shanti to know that we have formed a connection.

  I content myself with examining her from the short distance between our beds. She’s definitely been in the wars, as some humans say. She’s wearing a tight yellow tube top, that sinfully short skirt, along with high heeled shoes. I’m surprised Shanti hasn't taken them off her, but it’s possible Shanti doesn’t know that they come off. The matriarch still doesn’t know that much about humans. This is only the second one she has ever encountered.

  Pixie looks as though she has been indulging in the many drugs humans use to dull their feelings, escape their realities, and enhance their mundane existences. I saw plenty of that on my time on Earth, though the woman whose cat I inhabited did not use them herself.

  That’s where this gets complicated. In my old life, when I found myself captured and cornered, I’d usually just wait to get better enough to move, and flee.

  But this time is different. Technically, I have managed to do what I set out to do when I left my dying body at the transfer station and merged my consciousness with a passing Earth cat. I’ve made it back home to my planet of birth, and I have a decent body of my own kind to inhabit. This is a win.

  But I’m distracting myself from my triumph. Kitty, the woman who looked after me on Earth, is here in this village, living with her mate, Skoll, the bounty hunter who came for me and fell in love with her. Skoll is my enemy. Kitty is someone I have loyalty to. Of course, they won’t know who I am. Kitty does not know that I was, in some part, her beloved Mr Tiddles. And Skoll, thank the gods, does not know I am his fugitive. Yet.

  And then there’s the other human. The one who damn near sucked my soul back of out this body. Pixie intrigues and attracts me in equal measure. There is an intensity to her, a passion which I think helped her survive being yanked through the vortex which must have been created when they broke the walking wall.

  “What are you looking at?” She gives me a dirty look, her dark lashed eyes fixed on me.

  If wasn’t stuck in this wounded body and pretending to be a city soldier, I’d be over there, showing her what I am looking at. As it is, I know Shanti is watching us, and me especially. I can feel the matriarch’s suspicion even in her smile.

  “You,” I say simply.

  “Why?” She tosses her curly hair over her shoulder and gives me a ferocious glare.

  I think she’s trying to throw Shanti off by pretending to hate me. Overacting is apparently a human trait.

  “You’re pleasant to look at.”

  “…Oh.”

  She doesn’t know what to make of that compliment. I don’t think I’d be going out on a limb to say she hasn’t had many of them. Not because she’s not beautiful. She’s fucking stunning. She's not had many of them because girls like her attract the kinds of guys who think telling a girl she’d be hot if her tits were bigger is the way to get a woman.

  I spent a lot of time on Earth wat
ching people interact. I considered that I might end up in a human body if I found one sufficiently near death and absent of consciousness. It never happened, but I was ready to fit in if it did. So I learned about people. Most of what I learned, I didn’t like.

  “You’re finished,” Shanti says, taking the plate from my hands, and from Pixie’s hands too.

  “Thank you,” I smile at her. “That was very delicious. I don’t deserve your hospitality, but I am grateful for it.”

  It’s time I made a gesture of good will. I stand up, gingerly, and I remove the uniform which clad this body. It has been galling having the marks of the city on me, and this is the perfect opportunity to remove them while also looking contrite.

  “Take this, matriarch,” I say. “And burn it. I want no part of it anymore.”

  Shanti nods and takes the clothing from me.

  “It is not a mere matter of attire,” she tells me.

  “I know,” I say. “I have so much more to atone for.”

  The secret to lying is to be telling the truth, just not the truth the listener expects to hear.

  I know how to be charming. I think the matriarch already likes me. She’s kept me alive and patched me up, and that’s a good sign.

  “I’m going to miss cooking this good when I go home,” Pixie interjects, drawing attention back to herself.

  Shanti looks at her with a pitying gaze, as if Pixie might be too stupid to understand what has happened to her. Shanti’s a nice woman, but she doesn’t tolerate weakness for long. I’ve seen her whip the hell out of the females who live in her long house if they take too long to learn a lesson. Pixie better wake up soon if she doesn’t want to be on the wrong end of that matronly paw.

  Pixie

  “I think we need to talk,” Shanti says.

  “What about?”

  I have a feeling I should probably keep my mouth shut about what Scratch said about being able to get out of here through another door somewhere in the city, but he didn’t actually specifically tell me to keep it a secret.