Beamed Up Pt. 03

Being processed was easier than I'd anticipated. Shortly after the warriors left, three smaller Axilians carrying tablets came to the holding chamber and had everyone form a single file line. There were so many of us that it snaked along the room's perimeter. All we had to do was give our name, date of birth, address, and the names of anyone with whom we wanted to be reunited. That part made me a little sad. I couldn't come up with a single name.

I'd lived a transient life for the last five years or so as a professional pet/house sitter. I traveled around the States from gig to gig, never in one place for more than a few months at a time. It suited me. My family had all passed away years before, and I was content with just the occasional casual friendship. It was an adventure, and I had beautiful places to live plus the security of a steady paycheck. The only downside was not being able to have pets of my own. As much as I loved caring for other people's dogs, cats, rodents, and the occasional reptile, having to say goodbye whenever the gig was over sucked.

But rather than being sad about not having people in my life that I cared about, I decided to treat processing as the beginning of a new adventure. I wondered if there was a special holding area for people without "social units". The Axilian in front of me wasn't very forthcoming, but standing there gave me a chance to see an Axilian close up.

His face was basically human but with an exaggerated bone structure and ridges along his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, his jaw, and his hairline. Not that he had any hair. That seemed to be a theme. He also had more prominent canines in addition to the golden eyes, although his had more of a hazel tone. While shorter than the previous group, he was still taller than me and much wider. But I could tell that his breadth was more due to bone structure than musculature, unlike the warriors. Unlike my warrior.

*Again with the "my"! Quit it, Lizzie!*

The final step in processing before being directed to a new holding area was having a photo taken. It reminded me of going to Walgreens to get my passport photo. It was such a ridiculous comparison given the situation that I couldn't help but smile as the Axilian held up his tablet. I had expected him to send me on my way after he brought it down and tapped a few things on the screen. He didn't. Instead his eyes darted to my face in abject panic.

"Woah, it's okay. I'll retake the picture. No smile this time." I said. I felt bad for him. He was just doing his job, and I didn't want to get him in trouble.

"No, no, that will not be necessary, human. I mean, my lady. I mean..." he trailed off, apparently at a loss for words.

"Um, okay." What was going on?

His fingers were flying across the tablet. I heard a few pings, and they didn't sound good. Eventually he stopped and turned off the pad entirely. He stared at me in fearful confusion.

"Refugee McCall? Elizabeth Morgan McCall?" His voice had jumped an octave.

"Yes... I'm Elizabeth McCall."

*I've never been a refugee before. This is new. And kind of upsetting... Focus, Lizzie!"

The Axilian swallowed nervously. "Very good. Ah, you're to follow me. Now. Please. Follow me now, please?"

Following seemed like a bad idea. Being singled out from a herd is never good. I didn't have a social unit. I was all alone, and for the first time in recent memory, that made me nervous. No, not nervous- afraid. Afraid of the entire situation, the uncertainty, the strangeness of it all. I felt pressure in my chest.

*Oh god. The adrenaline's wearing off. Don't cry. Don't you dare cry. Don't be the weak gazelle. Big girl pants, Lizzie, big girl pants!*

What were my options? Stand my ground and refuse to move? Okay, but then what? Nothing about the Axilians made me think that resistance was a good idea. And what had my guy said before? That we had to do what any Kingdom representative said or there'd be consequences? I didn't want to find out what those consequences might be.

*Unless *he* was the one dishing them out... No! Calm down. Focus. Who knows? Maybe this is a good thing?* I doubted it, but in my fear I couldn't think of any other options.

So I plastered a bright smile on my face, and said, "Sure! Lead the way." I figured that projecting confidence couldn't hurt, even if it was just a smokescreen.

Following the Axilian through the ship's corridors was like walking through a maze. I had no sense of direction. Everything was scaled up, too. The halls were cavernous and echoed with footsteps and chatter, but we didn't come across any other Axilians. Or humans.

*Maybe everyone's busy being processed. Yeah. That's it.* Considering alternatives made me anxious. Where was I being taken? Somewhere in the bowels of the ship, somewhere no one could hear me scream?

I was so wrapped up in my worry that I almost didn't notice that my guide had stopped at a door. Still, I lost my balance a bit and reflexively put my hand on his arm to steady myself. He instantly recoiled from my touch like I had burned him.

"Oh- sorry!" I said, confused. It was yet another nonsensical occurrence, and I was getting tired of them.

"That is alright, Elizabeth Malcolm McCall." He said, even though it was clearly not alright. His hand shook as he punched a code into the keypad beside the door. It opened vertically with a *whoosh* and he gestured for me to go inside. I did.

I had expected another holding chamber or a cell, maybe a meeting with the Resettlement committee if I was lucky. I had *not* expected a suite of rooms the size of a really nice studio apartment. Before I had even had a chance to take it all in, the door *whooshed* shut behind me, and I heard the buzz of a lock engaging. My heart fell into my stomach at the sound. I had been right after all. I was in a cell, albeit a really nice one.

*But why? What had I done?*

I didn't have a record, not even a parking ticket. My credit was good. I had a five star rating on the WatchMyPets app. I brought my reusable shopping bags to the grocery store. I took public transportation or rode my bike. Being nice to animals was my job. I couldn't think of a single thing that might lead someone to confine my movements. Unless it was for my own good? I bristled at the thought. I'm the only one who gets to decide what's good for me.

Once again, irritation cut through my fear and anxiety so I decided to check out my new digs. There weren't any windows, but there was a bed, a desk and chair, a closet, and an en suite bathroom. Everything was black, white, gray, and blue. Normally I'd have appreciated the aesthetic. It was bold, graphic, and made good use of the space. But I wasn't in the mood. Instead, the feature that stood out to me the most was the locked door.

The investigation into my surroundings finished, I was at something of a loss.

*So... what do I do now?*

All of the surfaces were bare. There wasn't a book or a screen in sight. The only thing of note was a set of clothes folded on the bed. I shook them out and held them up to my body. They were simple enough- a black pair of pants and a long sleeved shirt. They were made of some kind of soft and stretchy fabric and seemed like they would fit. Suddenly, all I wanted in the entire world was a shower and a change of clothes.

Apparently, bathrooms are pretty standard across the galaxy. There was a toilet, a sink with a mirror, and a shower stall. Everything was sized for an Axilian, which I actually liked. The sink came up nice and high, and I could stick out my arms and do a 360 without hitting any of the shower walls. It was easy enough to figure out the touch screen controls, and before long there was steam filling the room.

There wasn't a laundry hamper anywhere, so I just folded my dirty clothes and placed them in a tidy pile on the floor. Taking off my bra felt even more amazing than usual. It's not that I'm top heavy. I actually think I'm pretty proportionate, but I do have larger than average breasts, so wearing a bra is never entirely comfortable.

The sensation of release was heavenly. I rolled my shoulders and arched my back. I didn't have to look down to know that my nipples were hard. It happened all the time. They were so sensitive that just about anything could set them off. A whisper of a touch, an errant thought, any emotion- it was fair game. I'd learned how to hide them at a young age by using those silicone nipple shield inserts, but even those didn't cut it all the time.

So at that moment, with my feelings all over the place and fatigue setting in, they were tingling. I ran my palms lightly over the tips and cupped my breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze. They overflowed my hands, soft yet firm, and they sat high on my chest. As pleasant as they felt, I wished that a pair of larger hands was on them, fully encasing my breasts, squeezing firmly in a way that I physically couldn't.

I looked down at them and imagined how *his* deep purple skin would look against my own. My heart rate increased immediately. I hadn't noticed his hands, but he was so large that I knew they would be exactly what I wanted, what I needed.

I wondered if he was thinking about me, too. His eyes... it had been so intense, it had felt so real. I wanted so badly for it to have been real.

*Get a grip, Lizzie. He was just doing his job, making sure no one was going to start any trouble.*

But he hadn't stared at anyone else the way he'd stared at me. Surely that meant something?

I sighed and gave myself one final caress. Ruminating on a chance interaction wasn't helping my mood. A shower would clear my head.

Stepping into the shower was divine. I don't know how a spaceship could have better water pressure than my place back home, but it did. I don't know for how long I just stood there, luxuriating in the heat. Eventually it occurred to me that I didn't have any soap, so I looked around the stall. There was a small cube tucked into an alcove, but that was it.

*Great. It's one of those all-in-one bars.*

I'd never had any luck with them, but beggars can't be choosers. I sudsed it up and started working it into my hair. Almost immediately I knew that it was something special. My scalp tingled slightly, and then a soft, delicate fragrance filled the stall. I might have detected ylang ylang, but I couldn't be sure. All I knew was that it was the most incredible aromatherapy I'd ever experienced.

As I massaged it more thoroughly into my scalp, the sudsy runoff poured down my body, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. It was relaxing and invigorating at the same time, just what I needed to lift my spirits. I rinsed my hair. Surprisingly, my hair felt pretty good, conditioned and without any waxy residue. Then I began working the cube into my skin.

A warmth sank into my muscles and joints as I ran it along my entire body. If there had been a chair, I would have collapsed into it. As it was, I had to lean against the wall.

*Oh my god.*

That was all I could think, a litany of gratitude and wonder. After falling onto a metal grate, standing in a line of refugees, and marching through the bowels of a strange and scary spaceship, it was overwhelming. I felt like I could cry.

Gradually, that feeling transformed into something else. As the warmth sank deeper and my emotions quieted, I noticed other sensations. Certain parts of my body felt more than just warm. They ached in the most exquisite ways. My nipples had been hard ever since I undressed, but working the soap into my breasts made them even more so. My areolas were tight ovals, and when I looked down my nipples stood out half an inch. I knew that if I touched them, I wouldn't want to stop. So I began to touch myself.

I moved my palms back and forth across the tips of my nipples, the gentlest of touches, just to see how sensitive I'd become. A rush of sensation immediately surged through my body to between my legs.

"Oh my god," I gasped.

The soap was slippery on my hands and body. I slid a hand down my body to my smooth mound and cupped it gently. It would have been so easy to slide a finger between my lips and reach my clit, but I didn't. The sensations were so powerful that I was almost afraid. So I just massaged my outer lips, feeling them swell as I felt the pleasure rise.

Meanwhile, my other hand was tending to my nipples, gently circling them with slippery fingers, pressing and squeezing and oh so slightly pinching, each touch sending little shocks to my clit. It was a dance, a back and forth of sensation. I rode it carefully, my hips moving in time, grinding my pussy into one hand while the other tweaked and grasped and caressed.

I was getting close. I could feel it, just beyond my grasp. I was panting, my chest was heaving, my legs were shaking, desperately reaching for that release.

Then a series of images flashed across my mind's eye, pictures of golden eyes and broad shoulders, of dark hands grasping my body, of hot breath against my neck, of dirty and dark whispers in my ears, of being filled and covered with sticky heat. That was more than enough. The pleasure crashed through me. I tried not to cry out, to stifle my moans but I couldn't. Wave after wave of heat. It felt like it lasted forever.

The sensation slowly receded, leaving a heavy, pleasurable humm in its wake. I wished someone would just sweep me into their arms and carry me away somewhere soft and warm, someone with strong arms and a fierce gaze. Instead, I had to force myself to stand up and turn off the shower. As soon as I did, gentle blowers engaged from the sides of the stall and dried me, which was good because I didn't see any towels. I just stood there, almost in a trance as the moisture left my skin and my hair. Once I was dry, I grabbed the fresh clothes and pulled them on. I was so drained that I didn't care that I didn't have any panties or a bra.

The walk back to the main room was blessedly short. After such an intense experience, my limbs felt like noodles. The last thing I remembered was falling onto the bed, pulling a blanket over myself, and hoping things would start to make sense soon.