The Host

bypurpleruff©

Yeva was stranded in a blasted wasteland of stone and sand. Her company's rescue and salvage crews must have been sloppy indeed. Even if they thought her dead, they should at least have retrieved her shattered battle armor. Instead, they passed her over entirely and moved on before she regained consciousness.

Having no technical skills, she had not wasted any time trying to repair her transmitter. She just left the heap of blackened alloy and started walking. If she got back to their staging area alive, she would see the idiot in charge of clean-up flayed.

That was eight hours ago.

The last and faintest of three suns was setting behind splintered, tooth-like rock formations on the distant horizon. This planet was a ravening maw that devoured soldiers. She would find no shelter nearby, for the battlefield had been chosen because of its desolation, not in spite of it. Though, with her strength and martial prowess, she feared no predators, the night itself was a different kind of enemy.

Her damaged baselayer had done little to protect her from the heat, and she doubted it would protect her from the even deadlier cold. Genetically engineered for battle, she had little body fat even in the places human females typically carried it. Two meters tall and solid muscle, she could withstand a lot of punishment, but she did not feel sanguine about her chances against hypothermia.

As twilight failed, she spied a faint glow ahead and hurried toward it. From around a pillar of stone, it cast an inviting yellow reflection on everything around it. Yeva gave no thought to caution. The temperature was dropping rapidly, and she had nothing left to lose.

When she first laid eyes on the thing, she did not know what to make of it. It looked like an egg-shaped boulder that partially opened, like a monstrous flower bud in the night. The object was easily three meters tall and two across, its dark gray outer layer parting six ways to reveal a fleshy, luminous yellow-orange interior. It was definitely organic. More importantly, it radiated warmth.

Yeva walked around the pod and tried huddling up against it, but found it little help. She was beginning to shiver. Reaching in between two of the petals, she touched the inner flesh and retracted her arm immediately, though not before noting that the inside of the object was a few degrees above her body temperature. The pod did not react, and neither did her fingers, slick with its fluids.

A few minutes passed. The pod had unfurled a little further. No chemical burns appeared on her hand, and the night was only growing colder. Climbing inside the pod looked more and more appealing. She reached up, took hold of one petal, and pulled it down. It bent, if reluctantly, and folded slowly back up to its previous position once she released it. If this thing contained no corrosive chemicals and she was strong enough to force it open, she would be a fool not to use it to her advantage.

Thus resolved, she bent the petal down once again and used it to lever herself inside the pod. The warm, yielding flesh engulfed her as the petal returned to its place, but she could still see a star-shaped patch of deep green sky through the opening if she craned her head back. Another might have found it claustrophobic, but Yeva had spent her entire life training and fighting in powered armor, which confined her even more tightly.

She sighed in contentment as sensation began returning to her feet, which were completely encased by the pliable flesh of her alien host. It reminded her a little of being immersed in a regeneration vat. The warmth felt too good for her to worry about how cold it might get if the pod continued blooming through the night. Still, she decided to stay awake and alert, so that she could set out at first light for the company staging area.

Considering she had fought a fierce battle, survived the destruction of her armor, walked 50 kilometers, and stood inside an unknown alien plant or animal to stay alive, she was annoyed but not surprised by the restless feeling that crept up on her after about an hour in the pod. She ignored it at first, but it grew more and more intense. In all her years as a soldier, through the chaos of countless combat drops and long stretches of monotony in transit, she had never felt this aroused before.

Decades of genetic engineering and years of hard training honed her magnificent musculature and fine-tuned her nervous system for combat, but did not eliminate her libido. As property of the company, however, she was forbidden to reproduce. She, like other young soldiers, took care of her urges in silence after lights-out. If her ever cried out in the darkness while she coaxed herself to climax, her comrades said nothing of it.

She shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. The soft, alien flesh of the pod's inner wall brushed against the front of her body through the synth fabric, and she had to stifle a moan. The baselayer felt damp between her legs. This was nonsense. She was a combat-hardened soldier, not to be tempted by pleasure in the line of duty. Yet she had no way of continuing her mission until the temperature outside rose again, which would not happen for several hours.

Yeva's hands caressed her thighs, an almost unconscious gesture. Where the fabric was torn, the sensation of her fingers brushing bare flesh sent ripples of pleasure through her body so intense they were almost painful. She brought her hands up over the hard planes of her abdomen to her chest. Visually, her breasts were barely distinguishable from her rock-hard pectoral muscles, but the nipples were sensitive all the same. Rubbing her palms over them felt better than she remembered. Perhaps it had something to with privacy, something she had never really had before except in the tight confines of her armor.

Without really planning it, her fingers took hold of the fastener at her chin and started undoing it. Why not? She had nowhere to go, and did not need the meager heat retention of the much-abused garment in the warmth of the pod. Stripping the baselayer without pushing the pod open to let in the cold turned out a bit more challenging than she had imagined. By the time she pushed the fabric down over her hips to let them bunch around her knees, she was sweating and more aroused than ever.

Her hands were not shy now. They roamed over her body, kneading and rubbing the sensitive skin of her neck, chest, abdomen, and thighs. A firm touch on her pubic mound made her knees weak, and she leaned back against the fleshy inner wall of the pod. Dipping fingers between her legs, she found her sex slick with lubrication and heard herself groan. She braced two fingers against her clitoris and, pinching nipples hard with the other hand, worked herself to an unremarkable orgasm with a few powerful strokes.

She came down from her climax to find herself held up by the pod's walls, which seem to have swelled a little. It was not uncomfortable, being just a little closer to wearing her armor. Except, of course, the pod pinioned her arms close to her body. At first, she put up with this, but as the embrace of the pod seemed to grow tighter, she pushed against a petal, stomach sinking ominously when it failed to bend outward as did before. Looking up, she did not see the star-shaped patch of sky, only glowing orange pod-flesh meeting at the apex of her organic prison.

Yeva was a warrior, and she did not panic when faced with danger. She reached up and explored the seams between the petals. Though strong, the junctions were not airtight, as she could still feel the cool night air if she pressed her fingers against them. As well, the pod-flesh seemed to swell less further up the pod, leaving the space around her head clear. Satisfied that she would not suffocate, she considered whether she should even try breaking out. If she damaged the pod and could not cause it to close up again, she might well perish in the hours of darkness that remained.

No, she should leave it alone. After all, she was safe and warm inside, if cramped. In fact, the pressure of the pod-flesh against her bare skin was remarkably pleasant. No doubt it was merely an after-effect of the orgasm. Still, it felt good, and she could not see the harm in taking advantage of it. Yeva undulated her body, rubbing against the moist, warm pod-flesh. Her breath quickened as her arousal grew, and a few minutes later she was panting with need, hands once more seeking her clitoris. Except, with the pod's inner walls swelling to fill the space around her body, she could not get leverage on her throbbing vulva.

Consumed by the urgency of her need, she did not at first notice the pod-flesh meeting between her legs and fusing. By the time she did, her legs were encased in separate compartments, each completely immersed in soft warmth that left her virtually no room to move. When the same thing started happening with her arms, she decided to put a stop to this, even if it meant risking hypothermia again. She flexed the powerful muscles of her arms and pushed out against the petals.

They did not budge. As her arms sank into the pod-flesh, however, it parted to fill the space between them her body, encasing her arms in their own sleeves much like it had her legs. Realizing her peril, she thrashed violently, but the pod's grip on her only tightened. After several minutes of fruitless struggle, she became aware of a gradually increasing pressure against her crotch.

It felt at first like she was straddling a padded rail, and she could not stop grinding her pubis against it. She grew aroused once more and slicked the pod-flesh with her fluids. A more distinct, roundish protrusion started probing her vaginal opening. She tried going up onto tip-toes to avoid it, but her feet could find no purchase in the pod-flesh. She tried twisting out of its way, but the protrusion maintained its alignment with unerring precision as it began pushing into her.

Yeva gasped as her labia parted around what now felt like a firm, rounded rod. Nothing, not even a medical implement or her own fingers, had ever penetrated her before. She had no experience by which to judge the girth of the intruding object, which of course she could not see. It felt impossibly large and kept pushing further and further into her. Even though the pain was hot and sharp, some primal, lust-clouded part of her wanted to be filled, and her body lubricated its agonizingly slow passage.

The intruder finally stopped pushing after what seemed like an eternity. Yeva held still for fear of stirring the pod to activity again, but it did not move. She stood there, sore, impaled, and quietly infuriated by her helplessness. The pain of her penetration faded, leaving in its place a lingering pleasure. After several minutes passed without incidence, Yeva found it harder and harder to keep still.

She wanted more.

Sucking in a deep breath, Yeva shifted her weight forward, pressing her nipples and clitoris harder into the pod-flesh. Did the rod squirm deep inside of her as she moved, or was it just her imagination? She was beyond caring as she swiveled her hips to grind her clitoris against the pod-flesh beneath it. As she moved, though, the pod held her tighter, frustrating her attempt to achieve orgasm.

When she relented, so did the pod, but when she started moving again, it once more constricted until she was completely immobilized. After she had brought herself to the edge three times without relief, she roared in frustration and thrashed madly against her bonds. The pod-flesh squeezed her tighter and tighter. Soon, she could not draw breath. Still she fought it, even as anoxia took hold and her muscles burned, until her vision grayed out.

A delirious wash of pleasure woke Yeva. The appendage inside her was curling, or rippling, or massaging her inner walls in some way while firm nubs worked her clitoris and nipples. Her body had sunken further into the pod's embrace while she was unconsciousness. The luminous yellow-orange stuff now surrounded everything from her mouth down. When she tried to lift herself back up, a firm pressure around her neck stopped her.

The stimulation of her erogenous zones continued, and Yeva's breathing grew ragged. Her hips moved of their own accord to thrust the appendage in and out of her, as far as her confinement would allow. The pod seemed be adjusting its assault to her responses. Anything it did that caused her to jerk, or gasp, or shiver, it did more. Even as it clamped down on her hips and waist to immobilize her, it started thrusting on its own.

It was learning how to fuck her. No, she was teaching it how to fuck her. On the heels of this realization, something happened in the core of Yeva's tormented body. Her breath hitched and her pussy spasmed as a wave of mind-destroying pleasure crashed through her. It felt catastrophic, like free-falling without armor. She tensed so hard that her calves and feet cramped. Her mouth opened of its own accord, and was immediately filled with warm, salty pod-flesh. The orgasm kept going, drawn out by the alien touch of the pod that held her prisoner.

Yeva collapsed, panting and twitching, but the assault on her body continued unabated. The sensation quickly changed from pleasure to agony. No matter how hard she struggled, she could find no relief for her overstimulated nerves. She whimpered into her living gag as the ruthlessly efficient pod forced another orgasm from her. Brief and unpleasant, it nevertheless blanked out her mind for a moment.

A slick nudge at her anus brought her fully back to reality. By now she had learned there was nothing to be gained by resisting, and simply relaxed as much as she could in the wake of her climax. After a couple of experimental pushes, the new appendage slipped into her ass with little ceremony. It was probably slimmer than the other rod, but its passage still burned. The two intruders fell into an alternating rhythm, one out, one in.

After a few strokes, though, she realized the rhythm was not perfect, and the two thrusts slowly began to line up. Accommodating both rods at the same time made her feel fuller than she thought possible, and yet another orgasm crept up on her, fast and brutal. Finally, the thrusting slowed to a merciful stop and the pressure on her clitoris eased. Yeva felt numb and drained. Her body still clenched involuntarily around the organs filling it every few seconds.

Then the thing buried deep in her pussy started swelling, gradually but inexorably. Yeva moaned frantically at the sensations it brought, not just the pain and the fullness, but the way it pushed her abdomen outward against the firm embrace of the pod. She became hyper-aware of an area just above her pubic mound. The stimulation of the expansion alone excited it, and her breath started coming in short gasps through her nose.

Despite her confusion and disbelief, she barreled over the edge of another full-body orgasm, screaming into the gag. Her helpless thrashing caused the pod-flesh to tighten its grip, and with her throat constricted this time, unconsciousness came much more quickly than before. The last thing she felt was a long, hot gush of fluid deep inside her body.

She awoke to cool air on her face, though the rest of her body felt reasonably warm. Her eyes opened onto a star-shaped patch of seafoam green surrounded by red-orange tissue of some sort. The pod!

Yeva's shaved head was pillowed on the fleshy wall lining one of the pod's petals, which had parted again, though she was still mostly covered from the chest down. The pod was open a bit wider than it had been when she entered it last night. A pulse of movement inside her vaginal canal made her snap upright. The pod tried to hold onto her, but lacked leverage in its open configuration.

Her torso and arms pulled free of the pod-flesh, and she bent the petals in front of her down to get a better look at what was happening in her pelvic region. The thing lodged in her sex was distended enough to create a faint bulge in her flat, muscular abdomen. Farther down, the pod had figured out how to cup her clitoris while she slept, and was applying mild, steady suction that felt remarkably pleasant.

Judging by the color of the sky, daylight would arrive soon, and she was eager to get on her way. Bracing her hands on the seams between petals to avoid sinking into the slick, yielding inner flesh of the pod, Yeva heaved herself upward. The knot only slid out a couple of centimeters before it got stuck. There, it pulsed again and shot a powerful jet of warm liquid at her cervix. She moaned softly, her eyes fluttering shut as the stuff started trickling out of her. The sensation was far from orgasmic, but it recalled the intense experiences of the night, making her vagina lubricate and twitch around the intruding member.

Yeva rocked her hips back and forth, milking the pod's sex organs with her pelvic floor muscles and grinding her clitoris against its suction cup. The pod responded by pulling her hips back down onto its intruding appendages and squirting repeatedly into her pussy. She rode it harder, grunting with rage and lust. The knot started filling up again as soon as it emptied itself, and the pod seemed to re-absorb the excess fluid that flowed down her powerful legs. With each ejaculation, however, the organ swelled less and less, unable to keep up with her furious pace.

At last, the organ shrunk enough for Yeva to pull free. The passage of the knot nevertheless stretched her vulva, which, combined with the sudden release of the suction on her clitoris and the slipping of the tapered appendage from her anus, threw her down the precipice of a final, glorious climax. She arched her entire body back in the throes of passion and triumph, crying out to the lightening sky.

Limbs still weak and breath still ragged from the orgasm, Yeva climbed out of the pod. She felt like she had just run a dozen kilometers in unpowered armor, but retained the presence of mind to retrieve her sodden baselayer and boots before the petals folded up again. The mission still needed to be completed, and debriefing was going to take much longer than usual. She set out once more for the company's staging area as the first sun broke the horizon.

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by Anonymous10/09/13

Is she pregnant?

Damn, damn, and double damn. That was great. Just excellent. You should be writing for a living .

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