The Host Ch. 02bypurpleruff©
Yeva lay in the dim gray quarantine cell. The company had not isolated her for fear of contagion, though she tried to warn them she might have contracted one from her encounter with an unknown alien life-form. They just wanted to keep her "condition" out of the other soldiers' sight.
Lifting her head from the foam pillow molded into the cot, she looked down at her nude, hairless body. She hardly recognized it anymore. In the five days that have elapsed since she returned to base, her lower abdomen had grown steadily more distended. Her breasts swelled, too, though not as appreciably.
She knew almost nothing about pregnancy. It was rare to begin with, and the company promptly removed pregnant soldiers from their units, never to return them. Even so, she could tell that her condition was not a normal human pregnancy, and not just because she had never mated with a human male. What constituted "normal" for an interspecies pregnancy like hers, though, was well beyond her meager understanding of biology.
Med techs came to check on her several times a day, and it seemed like each session found her belly larger. Far more bothersome than the obvious physical changes, though, was the spike in her libido. Even the clinical touch of the technicians aroused her. She kept her urges tightly controlled while they were around, but once they left...
Yeva cupped one breast in each hand. Even in their present state, they barely filled her palms, which felt almost painfully rough against her nipples. She massaged her breasts slowly, savoring their softness, an exotic contrast for one inured to hard bodies both male and female. Pinching the engorged nipples sent a shock of pleasure straight to her genitals.
Moving her right hand downward, she caressed the mound of her abdomen. Powerful core muscles stretched over the bulge, tight to the point of discomfort. It felt warmer to the touch than the rest of her body, recalling the life-saving heat of the thing that had impregnated her.
The mere thought of the alien pod sent a shudder through her. Her hand crested the hill of her abdomen and descended to her pubis. She dipped a finger into her vulva, finding it slick with lubrication, which she rubs gently onto her clitoris. The bud felt like a raw nerve, and the barest touch on it sent jolts of unbearable sensation through her body. She forces herself to keep the strokes light and teasing.
Her lips parted with an almost inaudible moan, her back arching off of the cot. It was not enough. She dropped her other hand to her crotch and eased one finger into her vagina, then another, curling them up and forward. Before her belly started getting in the way, she could just reach that spot inside, the spot that the pod had shown her, that it used to brutally wring orgasm after orgasm out of her tormented body.
Now her own fumbling hands, unable to reach that same spot, tormented her. Growling with frustration, Yeva jammed the other fingers of her left hand into her slit and ground her thumb down on her clitoris until she orgasmed. She withdrew her fingers from her vulva, savoring the dull pain of their savage intrusion almost as much as the pleasure diffusing through her body.
Though it sated her lust for now, the orgasm was only a pale shadow of what she experienced in the pod's embrace. She rolled onto her side and closed her eyes, absently stroking her round belly with one hand.
Then the thing inside her moved.
Yeva's eyes snapped open and she sucked in a sharp breath, going completely still as if daring it to try again. It did not. Relaxing again, she laid her hand on the bulge and started drifting off to sleep. She dreamt of violence and sex in fitful snatches: of the company doctors at the facility that made her, their leering eyes more telling in retrospect, of lying awake in the dark, aching yet fearing to touch herself, of her power armor coming to life and raping her in the midst of battle...
"Get up, Yeva 2547."
She opened her eyes again and squinted at the three silhouettes in the doorway. The ones on either side with weapons trained on her were big, probably soldiers. The one in the middle, carrying a bundle of some sort, looked like a free-born human.
"Get up," the man in the middle repeated, throwing the object in his hand at her.
Yeva rolled off of the cot and came up into a crouch, easily evading the projectile despite the unfamiliar burden of her new physique. The muzzles of the two weapons followed her. She risked a glance at the cot, where a heap of ash-colored fabric lay where she used to be.
"Put it on," said the man in the middle. Her eyes had adjusted enough now that she could see his sharkskin suit, the company logo tastefully imprinted on the lapels. The armed guards were Mikhails of different ages, the older of them close to retirement.
Yeva dressed in front of them, strangely aware of the company man's eyes, as if his gaze were tangible as it slid over her newfound curves. The robe had no shape and concealed hers admirably. It came with a pair of sole-less cloth slippers that found no purchase on the floor. She would have been better off barefoot. That was probably the point.
They escorted her down the corridor, through two automated security checkpoints, and into the infirmary. Some soldiers wounded in the last battle still floated in regen tanks, senseless to Yeva as shuffled past them. The company man pulled a doctor aside and spoke quietly, the latter nodded every so often as though he were not really listening.
Two med techs arrived to lead Yeva and her guards to a small room equipped with a sanitation booth, a console, a storage locker, an automated surgical assistant, and a modular operating table. She had been in rooms like it before, when she had been injured severely enough to require active intervention. The Mikhails kept stone-faced watch while med techs stripped Yeva and ushered her into the sanitation booth. Somehow, she did not feel naked until they made her put on clothes and then took them away. She yearned to wear armor again.
Soft blue-violet light bathed her from the top and bottom of the cylindrical booth, her cue to close her eyes and hold her breath. She could hear the whirring of the sanitation ring rising from its housing at the bottom of the booth. It rotated, its nozzles spraying her down with warm liquid from every angle from toes to crown, then back down. On its second trip, it blasted her with hot air, then with cold air. Finally, she emerged, disinfected and chilled and more aroused than she expected.
The med techs adjusted the operating table into its standing configuration and secured Yeva to it. Thick straps encircled her forehead, neck, torso, arms, legs, wrists, and ankles. Each of her limbs was bound to a movable segment, though at present they all fit together so that her feet were together and her hands at her sides. One of the techs asked her to test the restraints, which she did without much enthusiasm. She could not move any part of her body more than a centimeter or two, certainly not without great effort and discomfort.
Satisfied with their handiwork, the techs departed, leaving her with the two Mikhails. Yeva suddenly wanted to speak to them, to ask for some reassurance that she would not be retired on the spot. That was nonsense, of course. They would not have bothered bringing her to the infirmary just to retire her. She kept her mouth shut and stared straight forward as though waiting for inspection.
The doctor finally entered, looking much smaller beside the Mikhails than he had next to the company man. He dismissed the guards, locked the door behind them, and casually slotted his tablet into the console. Some images on the console display changed, but Yeva could not see them very well.
"I don't suppose you even understand what it means," the doctor said as he started entering commands on the glossy input panel, "but I have turned off the operatory records. That means we are well and truly alone in here."
He was right. Yeva could not fathom what he was getting at, but her stomach sank all the same. When a company man spoke to a soldier and did not give a direct order, things were probably going to end poorly for the soldier. Come to think of it, things never really ended well for soldiers, regardless.
The doctor continued, stealing sidelong glances at Yeva while he typed. "They tell me your pregnancy is unusual, but I've seen it all before. You're simple creatures, driven by simple urges. We designed you that way, so we should hardly be surprised you cannot follow even a straightforward order like 'keep your pants on.'" He sneered and made a little flourish with his hand before hitting one last key.
The operating table started moving behind Yeva, and the doctor turned around to watch. First it tilted back to a forty-five degree angle, then it spread her arms and legs. The air felt cool on her sex; she was wet. Before she had a chance to contemplate her new position, she saw the surgical assistant move in her peripheral vision. An injector-tipped arm folded out of its alloy body and lined up unerringly with her right arm. She stared at the injector as it pressed against her skin, as if watching the mysterious liquid disappear into her would help her divine its purose.
"That's not anesthesia," the doctor said, smiling a smile Yeva had never seen before. He undressed, handing his lab coat, shoes, shirt, and trousers to the storage locker, before stepping into the sanitation booth. She made a point of not looking directly at him.
The sanitation cycle seemed interminable. Yeva caught her gaze drifting toward the booth, no doubt just drawn to the light and motion inside. The room had felt chilly earlier, but now she found it almost uncomfortably warm. When the doctor finally emerged, he did not put on scrubs. He walked up to her, and her jittery eyes disobeyed her order to ignore him.
He was average by human standards, only a few centimeters shorter than Yeva but far less muscular. The same thick, curly brown hair that grew on his head sprouted from his armpits and crotch, while a lighter dusting of it covered his arms, legs, and torso. She had known humans were hairy, but imagined knew the extent of it. His penis hung flaccid beside heavy testicles.
Yeva's tongue darted out to wet her lips before she realized what she was doing, and he smiled that smile again. It made her heart race. He reached out and took hold of one of her breasts. She jerked under his touch, biting back a moan. "One of the nice things about pregnancy is how it enhances your tits," he commented, rolling a nipple between his fingers. She gasped, and he nodded approvingly. "Too bad they'll go flat again once you recover."
A firm touch on her inguinal crease told her where his other hand was. It felt like electricity coursing through her body. She gasped again, her pulse quickening even more. The man grinned, exposing slightly asymmetrical teeth. His teeth were the farthest thing from her mind when, a moment later, his fingers found her labia.
"What have we here?" He sounded very pleased as his fingers parted her dripping folds. "It's no wonder you got knocked up." Despite her attempt to tighten up against the intrusion, he slipped a finger inside her with little effort. The sudden penetration sent a jolt of pleasure through her.
Stifling her wanton cry of pleasure made it come out sounding like a whimper. The man chuckled, continuing to fondle her breast with one hand while he fucked her with his finger. The strap between her swollen breasts and swollen belly made it hard to draw a deep breath, and she started panting quietly. She fixed her eyes on his and hated him even while she willed him to do more.
He gave a short bark of a laugh. "I've seen every dirty look your series knows how to give. You're all the same. Literally." That said, he forced two more fingers into her vagina, stretching her open painfully. At the same time, he brought the pad of his thumb down on her clitoris and rubbed it in quick circles. She yelped and tried to twist away from the sudden flood of conflicting sensations, but the bonds kept her in place.
Somewhere along the line, he had removed his hand from her breast and dropped it below the curve of her belly, though it did not join his other hand in its assault on her genitals. She hardly cared as his fingers curled inside her, touching the one spot she could not and driving her closer and closer to orgasm.
Then he stopped. She roared with frustration and rocked her hips against his fingers even as he withdrew them. "Don't worry," he said. "I'll give it to you the way you so obviously prefer." Something firm, fleshy, and a lot thicker than a finger probed at her vulva. The contact alone made her body weak with need, but she made herself look him in the eye.
He did not look away, though his gaze defocused and his mouth went slack as he slowly forced his penis into her. Yeva's muscles clenched around him reflexively. She was so close that even the burning of the last few unlubricated centimeters seemed welcome, if not pleasurable as such. He pulled out a bit and pushed back in, spreading her juices along his length as he fucked her in short, jerky strokes.
"Yeah, you really are all the same," he grunted, his voice tight, "inside and out." Though not as wide as the appendage the pod had used on her, his penis was quite long, and it bumped into her cervix with every thrust. Even as the discomfort became pain, then agony, her arousal refused to abate. She tried shoving herself down onto him, or at least changing the angle so he would hit the pleasurable spot instead of the painful one, but the restraints thwarted her.
"Why protest now, Soldier?" he asked, his voice cruel and mocking. "Not that you get a say in this, but you seemed to like it just fine before. Maybe you want it harder?" So saying, he withdrew most of the way and slammed back, then did it again and again, pummelling her heavy womb from inside. Yeva gritted her teeth, refusing to cry out. Even this violent assault, painful as it was, edged her closer to ecstasy.
Deep inside her, she felt something stir. Pain lanced through her, so severe that it knocked the breath from her lungs like a physical blow. The man seemed to take this for his own handiwork and laughed. The pain settled into a dull throb, but grew worse each time the penis jolted her cervix.
"Stop," she commanded, which startled her almost as much as it startled him. "It hurts. Stop."
"Soldiers don't tell us what to do," he spat. "I'll make it hurt if I like." All the same, he returned his thumb to her clitoris and stroked it hard. It did not make the pain stop; it just added pleasure to it.
The thing in her womb pushed at her cervix from the inside while the intruding penis battered it mercilessly. Every thrust felt like a punch in her gut. Then one felt more like a stab. Yeva screamed and thrashed, her vision dimming with pain. The doctor growled and struck her with one hand, hard, on the chin. He did not cease fucking her or stimulating her clitoris.
The pain subsided a little, as somehow the penis had stopped bottoming out against her womb. Yeva felt suddenly and strangely filled. Something rippled against her inner walls. She could still feel the passage of the penis, but it was sheathed in something warmer and softer. That something massaged her spot, drawing a coo of pleasure from her.
"Oh, yeah," the man gasped, "that's more like it! You know another great thing about pregnancy?" He quickened his pace, his face straining with effort. "You, can't, get, pregnant," he punctuated each word with a mighty thrust, "again!" His mouth opened wide on the last stroke as his organ pulsed inside her, ejecting spurt after spurt of fluid that never touched her. Meanwhile, the living, amorphous sheath swelled up and flowed against the pleasurable spot, finally tipping Yeva over the edge into her long-denied climax.
She groaned and spasmed, eyes rolling back in her head as pleasure spread out from her core in tight, irresistible waves. Her pelvic floor muscles contracted rhythmically, which must have pleased the man, since he responded by rubbing her clitoris harder. This triggered a second orgasm before the first was completely gone, like a wave breaking over another wave. Yeva screamed and jerked against her bonds, mindless with ecstasy.
Her eyes felt strange, then wet, as her body finally started coming down from the double orgasm. The man had gone flaccid inside her, and wore a peculiar look on his face.
"How are you doing that?" he asked, and there was a note in his voice like wonder, or fear. The thing inside her was still languidly stroking them both. "All right," he said, "that's enough, stop."
She just stared at him. She was not doing anything.
"I said 'stop'!" he snapped. Not waiting on her obedience this time, he started to pull out. He froze. "What the..." He tried withdrawing again, but could not. Yeva could feel his tugging, as though his penis were somehow anchored inside her. "I'll make you pay, suka blyad..." Trailing off into other profanities, he reached over for the console and struck one key. The surgical assistant whirling into motion, tapping her arm with another injector.
Yeva's vision blurred under the weight of the sedative, but she did not lose consciousness entirely. She could still feel the man trying to extricate his sex from hers, and feel the creature she hosted keeping him there. "I'm going to fucking kill you ungrateful suka," he blurted, reaching for the panel again.
Adrenaline coursed through Yeva's body. Her muscles tensed as she strained against her bonds, even though training and experience told her she could not break them. She refused to let some incompetent company doctor take her down with a needle. The thing inside her surged against her flesh, and the man joined at the hip with her shrieked, his hand coming just short of its mark.
With a roar and a strength that came from she knew not where, Yeva ripped the strap holding her left wrist to the operating table's arm. The upper arm restraint followed quickly, and then her hand closed around the doctor's throat, powerful fingers digging into carotid arteries, cutting off the blood supply to his brain.
The sedative was dragging her down, but she focused all of her will on crushing the human's stubbly neck. He beat at her arm and pried at her hand, but she was frightfully strong. His thrashing weakened to a feeble struggle, and then he collapsed forward onto her. The thing inside of her released him and Yeva shoved his limp body off of her with a grimace.
Yeva was starting to fall unconscious when a rhythmic motion inside startled her back into awareness. The appendage extending from her womb into her birth canal made its way downward in peristaltic pulses, fucking her from the inside. She could feel the rest of the creature, too, a roiling mass in her uterus.
Wanting it out of her as badly as it apparently did, she pushed with her pelvic muscles. As more of the creature surged out, writhing and grasping, it rewarded her effort by stroking her to orgasm. The spasms and sudden flood of fluids must have eased the birthing process, for several more centimeters of the creature slid out, emerging from her vulva.
It spread out and latched onto her labia and surrounding area to pull itself out. Its touch on her clitoris produced a disporportionate reaction: aftershocks that rippled through her vaginal muscles. It learned quickly to focus on the sensitive nub. The simultaneous suction and buzzing pressure on her clitoris dragged Yeva, struggling and grunting, up the steep climb to another mind-shattering climax. More slippery alien flesh oozed out of her. She wailed in ecstasy and dismay as the creature prolonged the orgasm with its deft ministrations.