Xenobiology Ch. 02

More non-consent, more weird shit, but hopefully some stuff you all like. thanks for reading. -celi

*****

On the orbital therapy station of Seloux, Celira had been given a blank chit. The Council told her: "Whatever you dealt with on Morass, just get it taken care of and send us a bill. Seloux has the finest medical professionals on this side of the Rim. Get back to us when you're ready to continue."

Seloux had neurologists, polysomnographers, and any number of biohazard experts who might be able to tell her what the hell had happened. Celira, being Celira, went to the shaman.

Maska was an old, plump woman, her frowning shape seeming to dissolve into the robes wrapped around her. Old holopics lined the walls, showing what was once a beautiful, dusky sage. Now she offered advice to anyone who tossed some spare money her way, on a satellite therapy station.

Of her and Celira, which was the crazier?

"To speak in dreams, you have to unhinge a special part of the mind," Shaman Maska said. She'd said a lot of things in their sessions, but that was the crux of it.

Celira knew what that meant. You had to be insane to do anything cool with your mind. She could envision the male-self produced by the plant, could feel its seed within her. Her body was changing, but not expanding with child. But her dreams... All the best mental techniques meant, to get any answers, she'd have to go a little nuts.

"Maybe that's enough therapy for today," Celira said, standing. She slid her chit across the shaman's reader and punched out twice what the woman asked for her sessions. "Enjoy your tip, Shaman Maska. I may see you tomorrow."

The old woman looked about to protest, but when she saw how much she'd been paid she simply smiled and nodded. "Think well and sleep well, Celi."

Celira nodded, stepping from the incense-filled room and into the clean, sterile air of Seloux station.

#

Her room gave her more than enough privacy, but of all the changes since Morass, the worst was her stamina. As if women didn't have a hard enough time getting off. Her fingers were all but useless, as if she needed something new, something more. The plant had drugged her, although all bioscans showed everything completely normal. Still, the Council paid, so Celira thought she'd give the man in the white coat one more shot.

Muven would have been called Middle Eastern, a few dozen generations ago. He was tall, not too thin, and his hair was the same color as his eyes: a rich brown. His lab coat was accented with silver thread along the edges, denoting some specialization that Celira had forgotten.

"Step onto the platform," he said in his smooth, thin accent.

Celira stepped onto the metal footholders, reminding her of the flimsy ones you'd see on wheelchairs. She lifted her arms, her back to Muven, her ass slightly arched from the position of her feet. Her arms rested on either side of her, like she was about to do a jumping jack. The patient garb for Seloux was all white, and thin.

"Have you had blood taken?" Muven asked as he stepped behind her.

"Yes," Celira said. She closed her eyes as she felt a cloth band clamp down on one arm. It took her blood pressure, while Muven's stethoscope slid onto her back. They were wireless these days, and it still felt cold through her thin fabric.

"Take deep breaths," he said, and she did.

The stethoscope brushed across her back as she breathed, and Muven would occasionally give a satisfied hum. Then it pulled back, and the next Celira felt it was on her skin, Muven's hand slipping beneath the cloth. She sucked in a breath.

Her blood pressure machine released her arm with a hiss. "Normal," Muven said, sounding distracted. "That's good."

"Good," Celira said, distantly.

The cold ring of the stethoscope slid around her waist and pressed on her stomach. Muven's other hand slipped beneath the shirt, holding her side, the fingers pressing in as if searching for something. Celira bit her lip. The metal traveled further up. Her shirt was bunching up now, his arm pushing the cloth away, and his fingertip brushed the swell of her breast.

"Doctor," she muttered, but in no way was she asking him to stop.

He picked up on her tone and chuckled.

Then he spoke a word in a language she'd never heard before.

The windows sealed shut with a sigh. The lights dimmed, except those right above her. The stirrups and the armbands clenched around Celira, keeping her rooted. They were just loose enough to keep circulation, but she couldn't turn her head to see all the way around her.

Muven ran his hands through the ends of her dark brown hair. The hand holding the stethoscope pushed the metal down, sliding it like a poker chip across a table. He flicked up her waistband and let it sit there, the cool metal trembling just above her crotch.

"The Redvine plant is something else," Muven said. His hands snaked between her shirt and slid up to cup her breasts, and Celira gasped again. "I read the report you gave to the Council, on its capabilities. But judging by your bioscan, you've left quite a bit out."

"Y-you read my scan?" Celira asked. His fingers were cool, but warming as they groped her flesh. He began to knead her breasts, casually, almost clinically.

"This is a Council-funded station, Celi. We're authorized to keep your records from you if we detect anything...unusual. You were artificially inseminated by a plant. That's quite a fact to leave out of your report."

Celira bit her lip. "Yeah," she said. "So that doesn't explain why you're-"

He squeezed. Celira tried to squirm away from it, but his grip was fierce. His fingers settled around her nipples, and she thought it would be over from that. Her body bucked as much as it could in the restraints, and she groaned, but she couldn't tell how far the sound traveled.

"Why am I doing this?" Muven asked. "Mainly to test the full result of that plant on the human body. I want to feel what it's done to you. But also because I know you won't give me away."

Celi squirmed, but her feet were locked tight and cold. Her arms could bend as she twisted her torso, but she knew she wasn't going anywhere.

The whole contraption lowered a bit, bringing Muven closer to standing above her. One hand slid down her stomach and grasped the stethoscope, and he pushed it lower. "I can hear it," he said. "Little alterations in your breathing. Little alien anomalies in the flow of your blood."

Celira swallowed. "What is it? What did the plant do to me?"

Muven chuckled. "Now, why should I tell you? What's in it for me?"

She said nothing. Her body sank a bit, leaning towards him. Muven stepped forward, his crotch pushing against hers. He was already hard, and there didn't feel to be much fabric separating them. Celira began to tremble.

"I could still report you," she said.

"Sure," Muven agreed. His other hand left her breast and tugged down the uniform pants, letting the waistband hang above her knees. He pulled the string to tighten it there. The hand holding the stethoscope played with it at her netherlips. "But then you wouldn't get to enjoy, this..."

He pushed it in, and at the same time, he slid his headpiece onto her ears.

She could hear herself, even feel it. She could sense the pounding of her own heart more loudly and clearly than ever before. She'd taken pulses and used stethoscopes before, but she was a xenobiologist. Her time had been spent studying alien bodies, which were few.

But hers was one of them. Her rhythm, her very pulse of life had changed.Something was a little off, a little different. While this didn't surprise her, she almost felt like she could understand it. If she could just keep listening...

Muven pulled the headpiece off and drew the stethoscope out of her. She blinked, eyes open and facing the blank, white wall. She'd forgotten herself for just that moment. And Muven's hands were eager.

His fingers made her wet, but she could have told him how little that mattered. She doubted he cared. She was sinking into a haze of lust as he fondled her, and tried to command her body to stop rocking.

Then he bent her forward, and she felt his hardness.

"No," she hissed. "No, no, no."

The contraption holding her lowered and shifted her, leaning her in just the right way. Celira tugged at the restraints and pulled at her legs, trying to close them, trying to twist away. Muven's presence was thick over her like a blanket, and she knew how exposed she was. The room was dimmer than before, with no sound escaping.

One hand gripped her waist while the other guided his manhood against her lips. Celira grit her teeth, her whole body tensing, and she waited.

He spoke again, but she recognized it. The language her alien male self had said.

And then he was in. That first push hurt and Celira cried out, but his hand clasped over her mouth. His chest was heavy on her back, his form curled over her, his arm lodged between her breasts. He pushed in, little grunting thrusts at first, and then dragged out. Celira half-moaned, half-screamed against his palm.

He worked himself into a tempo, and began really fucking her. He seemed to realize, belatedly, that he didn't care she was crying out. He gripped her hips and took her in long, driving strokes. The slap of his flesh against hers echoed in the room, as did Celira's moans as he pushed them out of her. Celira kept writhing in the device, but the more she struggled, the harder it clamped down, keeping her just bent enough.

When he really got going, her breasts began to bounce, and it hurt. She bit her lip and focused on the building candleflame of pleasure deep in her core. It was alien, this pleasure. She'd felt sexual gratification before, of course she had, but it seemed... new. A new flavor of pleasure, from the same tricks and tools. It was like learning to screw all over again, and she sank back into the rhythm of it.

Then his breath went tight and his grunts became quicker.

'No,' Celira thought. 'Not so quickly, not so easily.' After a moment she also thought, 'And not inside me!'

His fingers almost pierced her flesh as he came, but the feeling of his seed in her was nothing like the alien man taking her. Celira's mind recalled that sensation so perfectly, as if the alien wanted her to know how much better he'd been of a fuck than the doctor.

Muven lay slumped against her, and Celira came down from the pathetic build of pressure she'd been reaching. He pulled out of her, cleaned both of them up with medical efficiency, and dressed her, and himself. He worked quickly, silently, his hands just as professional but much warmer. Celira could feel the way he'd groped her breasts; the pressure lingered. The pleasure did not.

When he released all the restraints, Celira stepped down. "Thank you," she said. He nodded, allowing himself a faint smile.

Then she had him pinned against the wall, his head shoved hard against a window.

"I don't know what kind of girl you think I am," she said. "But man, that could have gone a lot easier for the both of us." She reached into one of his pockets and pulled out what she thought was an insidiously sharp scalpel. "Give me a reason why I shouldn't slice you open and report you to the Council."

Muven swallowed, pushing down his fear. Very quietly, he said, "Because they're expecting it."

Celira blinked. She kept her grip on him, though really the sharp object near his face would do most of the intimidation for her. "Keep going."

"They knew something was up on Morass. The Orangevine plant has taken a victim before, but the Council wanted to be sure. They needed a xenobiologist, and you're one of the best. The fact that the plant chose you, even took you! It's what they want.

"But..." he cleared his throat. "But, they don't know about it yet. We haven't sent them any reports, and I've kept the weirder parts of your files to myself."

Celira let him go, slowly, but kept a white grip on the scalpel and stayed within stabbing reach of him. She stepped back, barely. "Why?"

Muven adjusted his coat. "I have my reasons." Then he smiled. "You keep quiet about this, I keep quiet about the alien organism inside you, yeah?"

"Only if you can tell me what my bioscan showed. Am I pregnant?"

He shook his head. "The alien seed went into you, but it didn't give you a child. What it did give you, well, we can only make estimated guesses. I didn't lie to you entirely; the bioscan is normal. Your body is normal."

"You just said-"

Muven put up his hand. "Your body is, but your mind isn't. Your brainwaves are showing all these physical changes, these bio-modifications to your body that don't really exist. So, on one level, it's all in your head."

"In my dreams," Celira murmured.

Muven nodded. "Pretty much. I don't think a full medical report can explain the damage done by the Redvine plant. And I have no idea what it was that, ah, took you. That's something I think only you can manage."

Celira frowned. She lowered the scalpel, and saw the limited control it gave her over the doctor. She pushed back the rising doubts, and kept glaring at him.

He put his hands up in surrender. "Are we... good, then? I cover your ass, you cover mine."

"Why did you force yourself on me in the first place?"

Muven grinned. It was the kind of grin that looked, somehow, like it belonged with speaking the alien language. But she understood him when he said, "Because it is what the Redvine wills. At least that's the name you'll give it until you know."

"Know what?" Celira demanded.

But he spoke in that foreign tongue, and she passed out.

#

"To speak in dreams, you have to unhinge a special part of the mind," Shaman Maska said.

Celira sat cross-legged before her, palms up on her knees, her back straight. "I think I know what you mean now, Shaman."

Maska nodded. "The dreamtalking will be difficult, if that's the route you wish to take. The toll it takes on your mind is not one that can be refunded, so to speak. I can teach you, or... Or, I can give you the tools, and you can practice them. I imagine you have somewhere to be."

Celira grinned. She'd seen her holomap, the one that had charted a course back to the Council's nearest starship. The travel wouldn't take very long. She was flying express, and put it all on their chit.

"You're right, Shaman. I absolutely have somewhere to be."