It pulls a kind of crank on the wall, and I’m sucked down. The room I’m in is some kind of pod. I feel like a stack of dollar bills being sent to the teller at the drive-through window. My head aches, and I curse as the tickle between my legs turns to a throb. Even though I’m strapped down, I squeeze my thighs together, hating how good it feels.
The inertia rips my sense of balance to shreds. My body spins in the dark, weightless and wrong, as I rocket through the tube with nothing to grab, nothing to stop it.
I slow for a moment and then I pop from the Deenz ship hard. The vibrations of the pod shake me so deeply that I can feel it in the roots of my teeth.
My stomach drops as I realize I’m jettisoned and uncontained. I’m in open space, utterly alone.
Panic claws at my throat as I look up at the emptiness above me.
But just then, a pair of rusted metal claws clamp around me, like I'm part of some sick, giant claw machine. It drags me quickly through what I now realize is the gap between the Deenz ship and some kind of space station.
I'm positioned at some kind of open port, an honest to god pod bay door.
This tube is just as fast, but red lights line its metallic length. They flash by, and I wonder if maybe Stanley Kubrick might know more aboutaliens than the rest of Earth when their colors flash and fade like that scene in2001: A Space Odyssey.
I slide inside my restraints, like a poorly maintained carnival ride, when the pod suddenly stops. The soles of my feet slam against the bottom of the vessel and my forehead cracks against the glass in front of me.
I crane my neck and look around the large room I’m in. It’s some kind of station alive with signal lights and duct-work. The space seems impossibly tall, almost cathedral-like. Tubing snakes through every available space on the wall. Some of it is filled with green liquid; others look as though they contain inky black oil.
I don’t focus on the wetness seeping through my Bubble Babes uniform; its plastic straps put pressure on my mound in a way that feels so fucking good. I can feel myself slipping, succumbing to the drug the Deenz gave me. It’s utter fucking torture not being able to touch the needy parts of myself. To have to clench and grind in this confined space, unable to use my hands to find relief. I'm so sensitive that even my gasps fanning over my chest are making my nipples pebble beneath their wrappings.
When a dark figure looms over my pod, I know I’m fucked. But I’m not scared.
I want its help—whatever it is. The situation’s so far out of my control it’s almost funny. The pod hums around me, and the air tastes like ozone and fear, thick and stale from my own recycled breath.
“Please,” I plead, writhing as much as my straps will allow. “Help. Touch me. Let me out…please.”
My chest rises and falls too fast; I’m gasping now, short and uneven, like my lungs forgot how to work. Every movement of the figure above meripples through the dim red light, distorted by the curved pod window.
For a heartbeat, it just stares. I can’t see its face backlit by red, only a faint shimmer where its eyes might be. Then, slow as a planet turning, the creature moves.
My eyes follow its hand—dark brown, massive, each finger longer than my hand—to the control panel beside me. I don’t breathe. The glass hums as something inside the pod disengages. Then?—
A sharp click. A hiss.
Cold air rushes in as the seals release, snapping open like a breaking wave. The top slides back with a heavy groan, and the straps retract all at once, coiling into the sides like startled snakes.
The figure inhales sharply—a sound of utter surprise—and I realize it’s the first actual noise I've heard it make.
“Human,” the shadow murmurs, the word rolling out low and awed, like a curse.
The air between us hums with static. I can finally see the shape of him—broad shoulders, a glint of the spikes that run down his back, and eyes catching the light like burning copper.
I don’t waste any time, a slave to the chemicals in my system. My hands fly between my legs, and I pull the synthetic material off my weeping crotch and furiously run three wide fingers up and down my clit.
CHAPTER THREE
Somehow my hand isn’t enough, and the shadowy figure above me does nothing but look as I try to grind out the most desperate orgasm ever. The way the light catches the glint of his eyes, I can tell he’s staring, and I can hear his breath come in heavy gasps. There’s something about his total lack of volunteering that I find totally and completely infuriating.
“Are you going to fucking help me?” I whine, slipping my hands back into my well, spreading my juices through my folds. My hips lift out of the pod when I hit the right spot, but just as quickly as the burst of pleasure hits, it’s gone—along with my elusive orgasm.
The shine of his eyes narrows, and he scoops one of his huge fur-covered hands up under my ass, holding my hips up. He leans down and takes an audible sniff of my pussy. But I don’t care; the Deenz shot has me wanting nothing but release. There’s no time to be self-conscious, not while the urge to come has overtaken my brain.
“Your cunt,” he pants in the dim light. “Tell me what to do.”
“Rub here.” I tap my clit desperately.
His rough hand cups me, and the heat that radiates from his palm is absolutely fucking delicious. He squeezes the whole of me, and my wetness drips against his skin. I can’t control my voice as it escapes my lips in an animalistic groan.
