Loving Michael Pt. 03

Author Note: Thank you guys for the comments, and sorry it took so long to push out chapter three! I just had surgery so I've taken time away from my usual hobby of...well, shameless monster smut writing and reading. Hopefully you all enjoy this next chapter, and updates should become more frequent as I heal from my operation. I'll be making some artwork for this story as well! <3

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We sat there for a while in the small space of each other's company. There were so many things I wanted to say, to ask, to do. All of them were just as dangerous as the last, and even what we had just finished from was enough to get me erased from government records. All of the information I had on Michael was everything released to my clearance level, which was pretty high at a three, but definitely not enough to gain access to the details I wanted to know.

As Michael rested, I read through more of his files.

Note: Specimen tranquilized for testing. Lab team secured hair, oral swab, blood, and flesh puncture from thigh (right, anterior) before S.E-006 began to move. Team returned to lab with no altercations. Awaiting results of biopsy.

04. 28.▇▇ Dr. J. Edwards.

Note: See attached picture from microscope. Cell structure of S.E-006 completely foreign, further testing needed and awaiting approval. Blood tests returned. Host Michael ▇▇▇▇ known as type A blood now presents with unrecognizable cell structure. Flesh biopsy gave inconclusive results. Lab team is struggling to determine whether or not the host and symbiote are still two separate organisms or somehow a merged final product of parasitic life cycle.

04. 29. ▇▇▇▇ Dr. Stephen Heisenberg.

Note: Testing on conscious S.E-006 began with expected results; subject was aggressive, combative. Lab team sedated subject with ▇▇▇▇ and was successful in restraining host to modified exam table. Physical exam revealed that the symbiote appears to be integrated completely with the host body's central nervous system, but the symbiote's exact location in the body is still undetermined. Host body has two smaller arms beneath the primary forelegs which appear to be the "true" arms of Michael ▇▇▇▇ and when the subject opened it's maw three rows of teeth were recorded. A 'seam' runs down the subject's underbelly. Attempts to inspect and open seam resulted in severe agitation from the subject. Dr. T. Logan received a fatal blow with the subject's stinger. Necropsy scheduled and results should reveal new details about the neurotoxin the symbiote creates.

04.31.▇▇▇▇ Dr. Lisa Kellerman.

Note: Neurotoxin results received. Toxin appears to act similarly to venom of bungaris fasciatus, or the Banded Krait of southeast Asia. Initial effects recorded were intense pain, muscle atrophy, and eventual paralysis. Antivenom was delivered to Dr. Logan with no results. Necrosis at the sight of injection (between third and fourth ribs, anterior) collapsed his lung and blackened the flesh from his groin to his chin in less than an hour. Dr. Logan was sedated as the lab team recorded the toxin's progression. Shortly after necrosis set in, Dr. Logan's organs began to fail. The decision was made to euthanize him and have his body sent for necropsy. Results pending.

04.31.▇▇▇▇ Dr. J. Edwards.

Note: Lab team attempted to dissect the subject by cutting open the seam of it's underbelly. Upon opening it was revealed to be an extension of it's maw, lined with thick ridges of muscles and housing an alien digestive system. Dr. Kellerman intervened before samples could be collected. Dr. Edwards was immediately terminated from the project. No clearance given for this examination. The board has suspended any and all tests on S.E-006 until internal review can be completed.

05.03.▇▇▇▇ Dr. Stephen Heisenberg.

I couldn't help but gasp, and Michael grunted. How was he still alive? Dissected? As in, cut open? There was no way. The term had to be misused in this context, right? The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth and I felt my jaw grow heavy. I was gonna throw up. How could they do that to him, to a living creature of any kind?

"What's wrong?" Michael's voice came through and I clenched my jaw tightly, the sound of my teeth grinding against themselves making an odd creaking in my ears. "Charlotte?" He asked, his sleepy voice overcome with sudden concern.

"N-nothing. Just saw a spider." I lied. Instant regret hit me like a brick.

"Why are you lying to me?" He demanded. Even without eyebrows, or a face at all, I could see how even such a small, harmless white lie affected him. What had happened to him in his life that he harbored such mistrust over any absence of the truth?

Setting the folder down, I sighed. "I was reading your files, again. Really reading them." I admitted. "I didn't want to bring back any painful memories for you, but...May third." Two words with so much weight to them. As soon as I spoke them aloud the air pressure in the room changed drastically.

"May third." He repeated, maw parting in a hideous scowl. "The day they determined just how 'human' I really was." There was blatant bitterness in his tone and I tried to think of a way to change the subject. Then, a thought hit me; would I appreciate someone actively ignoring a traumatic event of mine that they had brought up? No, I'd feel pretty neglected, isolated.

"I'm so sorry, Michael. They never should have done that to you. Any of it. All of it. This folder is filled with horrible, awful things that they'd never do to an animal, let alone a person." Even though the words sounded hollow to me, I hoped that they held reassurance for him. "I can't imagine how awful that must have been for you." I said softly, placing my hand on the screen where his face was displayed in it's usual grainy low-saturation. As if he could feel it, Michael rested his head against the wall and nuzzled against the cold metal on the other side when it should have been the caress I so badly wanted to give to him.

"It was the worst day of my life." He told me. With a shaky sigh he seemed to hesitate before speaking again. "I killed someone."

Confused, I tried to figure out what he meant. He'd been eating people, and other animals, before coming here. To date, his kill count was unknown but estimated to be quite high. "What do you mean?" I finally asked.

"I killed that scientist. The alien inside of me was still knocked out from whatever they shot me up with that day. When I came to, and saw them just digging around...inside of me, I was scared. Petrified. When the alien decides to eat, it's like I've spaced out and I'm watching on a five second delay. When I attacked that man, killed him...that was me." Michael explained, shame and regret evident in how he trembled, his body shaking on my screen. "I'd never hurt anyone before." He gasped, a haggard breath interrupting him. "They let him die, Charlotte. I could hear him begging for mercy, and they just watched." As his maw parted, the creases retracting to expose his teeth as they formed several clenched mouths, I realized he was sobbing. Without eyes, or tear ducts, it simply looked different.

"You did what you had to do, Michael." I assured him. "They would have kept going if you had just laid there." My hands were cold and I felt goosebumps rise on my arms. There were so many things I sucked at and consoling someone was definitely one of them.

"I could have broken free from the table, scared them all off." He said.

"They might have killed you in fear of their lives." I pointed out, knowing full well that people were capable of doing terrible things when their life depended on it, and especially when you were essential personnel in a government funded research project. "We do what we have to, to survive." I told him slowly.

Michael was very quiet. I waited for him to speak. "How does it make you feel, knowing that I eat people?" He asked me. This was a question I'd been running through my head ever since taking this position, and I still wasn't entirely sure. This wasn't a normal question people asked when 'dating' someone, but it did need to be addressed.

If Michael ever escaped, would I be comfortable with getting anywhere near him?

"Why do you eat people?" I asked.

"I don't, the alien does." Michael replied.

"What do you mean?" I asked, leaning forward and listening intently.

He scratched his head and sat down with a sigh. "The alien inside me is sort of like...a worm. I know it's there because I can feel it moving around, sometimes. Most of the time, it's asleep. They keep the temperature so high because, on this thing's native planet, they burrow into the ground during the warm season to incubate and escape predators. When the alien is asleep, we get drowsy and just have to hibernate until they lower the temperature for feeding. Lately, I've been pushing past the walls of fatigue to stay up late." He muttered that last part like a kid admitting to skipping curfew and I giggled in the most neurotically girlish way.

Ugh, he definitely heard me do that. Fuck.

"How do you know about the warm season, or it's planet?" I asked him.

"Don't you know?" He returned with yet another question.

"Know about what?" I asked, getting a bit agitated with this impromptu game of 20 Questions.

"About the Intrepid and our deployment to the dwarf planet, Trillium 4. I'd thought, with the casualties we suffered, it would be all over the news." Michael told me.

"The only space related news I know of is the moon wobbling." I told him.

"Charlotte, I don't mean to frighten you, but...we were sent to colonize a planet with habitable conditions. There were 146 of us when we left Earth, and only the 6 of us made it back." Michael told me gently. My eyes darted all over his face as if I'd be able to read him without eyebrows or a true mouth. "Earth is dying, Charlotte." He said.

Sitting back, I let the weird flood of adrenaline flush through my veins. Every sense was on high alert. My heart beating in my chest was like a thundering drum. "No," I shook my head. "There hasn't been anything about that in the news, or on social media, or--"

"Why would they want to cause mass panic when there are only so many seats available to make it to the colony?" He asked me.

"You can't just expect me to believe a claim like that, Michael. It's just...I mean, we've been working on fixing climate change." Why was I laughing as I said this? How overwhelmed I must be, to nervously chuckle and smile as I tried to debate him on this sudden news.

"It's too late. They know that." Michael insisted gently.

"No. No, if they--okay, so...wait." I needed a minute. Pushing the chair back, I put my head between my knees. That was supposed to help anxiety attacks but my stupid, big fat titties just compressed my ribs and made me feel like the fucking walls were closing in on me. The floor. The floor was good.

Laying on my back like a starfish, I stared at the discolored ceiling. Every panel of...what were ceilings made of? Styrofoam? Did that sound right? Probably not. Whatever it was, it was definitely bad for the environment, and worsening the climate crisis that was ENDING THE FUCKING EARTH--okay, Charlie. We're calm. We're good. The world is not ending just because a big sexy cannibal alien told you it was. Men lie about stuff all the time. Remember Craig? He lied about his height on Tinder, his dick size at the bar, and that god damn skank Theresa from work. Men lie. Or they're wrong. Because they're just so FUCKING stupid--

"Charlotte?" A familiar voice had my eyes opening. Nate was looking at me from the opened doorway, head tilted and eyes moving over my body in a way I did not like. "You alright?" He asked.

"Fine, fine." I replied, making a weird grunt as I sat up, stiff joints protesting. "Just cramps, is all." I assured him.

Nate had the audacity to wrinkle his face in thinly veiled disgust. Was it my belly rolls? The leg hairs poking out of the rolled up cuff of my slacks? Was I actually on my period and somehow turning these khakis red? "Oh, alright. Was just checking on you. Here." He held out a hand to help me up and I begrudgingly accepted it.

He failed to pull me up to my feet and I nearly dragged him down onto the floor.

"Uh, I'm just gonna do it myself." I mumbled awkwardly, bracing myself on the chair and standing with a symphony of snapping, crackling, and popping that would put three very famous elves to shame. "I just needed to calm down. Sometimes I get claustrophobic being in this windowless building, in this tiny office, behind all these locked doors." I told him, hoping he'd buy that.

"Oh, totally understandable. You know, the guy who used to work here, Ronnie? We used to go on walks and uh," He paused and made a vague motion as if smoking a blunt. "Out by the security office. It's the only blind spot, y'know? Right behind the security office. Even Terry can't see it. Perfect for, uh, just about anything you could get up to in the dark." The hidden innuendos were so loaded in that sentence I couldn't stomach it and nearly gagged.

"Good to know, thanks." I nodded. If I didn't engage, he would leave.

"So, when's your lunch break?" He asked me. Why wasn't he leaving? Weren't there any other girls here he could terrorize? I was easily the DUFF of the women working here. Shit, Katie was Asian! Didn't weirdos like him have fetishes for that?

Oh, god, sick. What was wrong with me? Women support women.

A sound came from the screen behind me and I froze. Of all the growling, snarling, and screeching I'd heard from Michael in my time working here, I'd never heard anything quite so vicious as the warning that rumbling from his chest and tore it's way out of his throat like a bloodthirsty predator. My blood became ice. Every hair on my body was raised. My flesh prickled and tightened. Nate stared over my shoulder in horror.

"Subject 6 is awake." He breathed.

"Seems so." I whispered. Michael had heard Nate's subtle flirting, and he did not like it. Not one bit. The joy and satisfaction that flooded through me was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. I'd never been into the 'Alpha Male' thing, and found the territorial meathead schtick to be quite embarrassing for everyone involved, but knowing that the man who could satisfy me with only his words was possessive over me?

My pussy could now be marketed as the newest flavor of Gushers.

"Oh, wow. I've never seen it awake." Nate said, going over to the desk. Michael was hissing like a pissed off viper. "What do you think it's doing?" He asked.

Trying to find a way to fuck me on top of your corpse. Was that too much? "Speculation leads to miscalculations." I said vaguely. "I need to get back to work, and so do you." I shooed him away from my seat and plopped back down.

"Use the trigger." He told me, pointing at the audio test tone switch.

"The what?" I asked, looking from his face to the switch in confusion.

"The trigger? It plays a sound that hurts their ears. My brother, Dr. Roberts, told me all about the way they use it to keep them at bay when they have to go inside the cells. It's so cool. He showed me a video on his phone before he deleted it. It's like a dog whistle, but sharper." He grinned like he was telling me he'd caught Bigfoot or something else absurd and thrilling.

Dr. Roberts was his brother? Well...explains how someone so underwhelmingly qualified got this job. "It hurts them? This tone?" I pointed to the same switch I knew I'd used night after night for so long. "Oh, god." I gasped.

"Yeah, didn't they mention anything to you? The test tone should be used at the start of the shift to encourage a reaction, and then you document it. Ronnie and I used to use the switch just for fun, sometimes. Saw this one vomit up an entire pig, wasn't even digested yet. Ronnie said a lot of animals do that when you spook 'em and the, what is it...fight for flight mode. If that's triggered," Nate made a terrible mimic of puking. "Everywhere. Oh, those scientist dudes were pissed when they came in, because that meant they had to feed it, again." He maintained a wide smile as he told me all of this, as if letting me in on a super fun inside joke.

"That's horrible." I told him. "How could you do that to someone?" I demanded.

"What?" Nate smirked. "They're not people, Charlotte. They're space monsters." He replied in a confident voice. "They ate the entire crew of the Intrepid after hatching on board. Can you imagine? Being trapped on the shuttle with THAT and knowing you either had to kill it, air-lock yourself into space, or just wait to die?" Nate seemed almost livid as he laid out this scenario for me. His nostrils were flaring, his eyes wide. His greasy hair became disheveled as he brushed it back. "I mean, my brother almost went on that expedition. I can't imagine--if that thing ever ate someone I knew, I'd--"

"Enough." I interrupted.

Nate stared at me for a long moment, and then looked at the screen. "Charlotte, you're not seriously sticking up for the alien that ate people, are you? Really?" He questioned, scoffing at me when I couldn't reply. "Wow." Was all he said.

"That's still a person in there, Nate." I insisted. "He was on the voyage. He's a victim, just as much as they are." my tone raised and I took a few deep breaths to try and lower it; yelling at men like Nate only ever made things worse.

"No," Nate shook his head. "No, because that thing gets to live, and none of the others did. None of us do." He threw his hands up and gave me a self-satisfied, but very fed up look. He believed he had won this argument, but he wasn't happy about it.

"You should get back to work, Nate." Was all I could bring myself to say.

He left without another word.

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"You don't believe me, do you?" Michael asked me, his eerily calm demeanor making me look up from my paperwork. Now that Nate had seen him walking around, he'd no doubt tell his brother, who just so happened to work on the research team.

Pushing the paper into the metal basket, I pinched the bridge of my nose and inhaled slowly through my nose. "I don't want to believe you, but I don't think you'd ever lie to me about something like this." Who would concoct such a wild, unbelievable story? For what reason?

"What that man said, about the shuttle...our return voyage." Michael said. "It's true." He sounded very grim as he took accountability for the heinous acts Nate had been trying to use against me and my sympathy for this supposed monster. "The six of us ate some bushmeat, and we thought we had food poisoning. We were in the infirmary when the doctor's took stool samples and did ultrasounds. They had seen the parasites in some smaller mammals on Trillium, and they quarantined us immediately in the cargo bay." He told me in a detached way, as if reading it to me from a script. I couldn't imagine replaying those memories, having to live with the atrocities he'd committed. "Logan's worm molted first. Then Sam. At first, they fought each other like rabid dogs. Then they tore the doors to the cargo bay down and I heard the screams as I struggled to make it through the cramping and fever." When he leaned against the camera, I heard him make a soft, muffled sound. He was crying, but you wouldn't know it by watching the creases of fanged flesh curdle the way they did.

"Michael," I said softly. "I know you feel guilty for how things turned out, but you have to forgive yourself eventually." I told him.

"Never." He whispered.

"I forgive you." I offered, hoping it would be enough to at least dull the sting of those old memories.

We sat there for a long while, not speaking, merely listening to each other's breathing. He began to sob, and I could only coo the same offer of forgiveness over and over again. Eventually, he merely wept and nuzzled his face against the camera. Then he sighed and rubbed his face, fingers moving along the seams of flesh folded together. "I'm sorry. It's been a while since I've, uh..."