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Welcome to Nockatunga Station

Welcome to Nockatunga Station
by Chloe Tzang

© 2017 Chloe Tzang. All rights reserved. The author asserts a moral right to be identified as the author of this story. This story or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

Well, I’ve never tried a Science Fiction Erotic Horror Alien Non-Human Group Sex sort of Mind Control semi-Non Consent kind of a Horror-Romance Halloween story before, but hey, as an entry for the Literotica 2017 Halloween Competition I wanted to try something different and this one seemed to fit – I wrote the concept for this one about two years ago as a three page outline at one of the very first Writing Workshops I went to. Obviously alien sex doesn’t float everyone’s boat but I do hope you enjoy the story itself. Anyhow, so this is a whole range of new categories for me and what can I say, it’s my first try so don’t be too harsh on me. And I was totally confused about what category to put this one in but Science Fiction seemed the closest fit … hope you all agree and enjoy it. …. Chloe
* * * * * *

Feeling all right in the noise and the light
But that's what lights my fire
Hellraiser, in the thunder and heat
Hellraiser, rock you back in your seat
Hellraiser, and I'll make it come true
Hellraiser, I'll put a spell on you

Hellraiser, Motorhead
* * * * * *

Hellraiser dropped in to real space, on the mark. Half dazed, vision a blur, muscles spasming, Zima fumbled for the comp reboot coz it’d hung again. The Captain regained coordination faster, flicked the switch to manually reboot systems. This time main comp came up smooth and fast. Not like last time when they’d been completely blind for five minutes. Transition fried components. Not every time, but often enough and then you were running blind until you got it fixed.

“Outer coms beacon signal, incoming,” Fredricks managed.

“Location?” the Captain asked.

Zima fed the numbers from the beacon into the comp, got them transferred into nav. Fingers flickering, eyes focusing blurrily on her displays as they wavered in and out of the interface. For a second she saw through the walls of the ship and into … something … something the human eye shouldn’t see.

“In the envelope,” she reported. Behind her crash seat, she could hear Fredricks vomiting. She did that every time.

“Second Dump,” the Captain said, finger hitting the switch, phasing them into the interface, then back into real space again, this time with greater solidity.

“Holy Jesus and all the Saints.” O’Reilly said what half of them were thinking. “We made it.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” the Captain said, rather drily. Then, after a long pause, “Third Dump.”

Hellraiser shed more speed as they flickered through the interface and back yet again. Fredericks vomited. Yet again. Numbers reeled across the display, flickering before Zima’s eyes, coming in below light-speed now, slowing fast with every dump and everything on the boards was green.

“Fourth Dump,” the Captain said. Once more reality wavered, flickered in and out, strange things at the edge of vision, hearing colors, seeing sounds.

“Vanes ‘re yellow, not so fast, not so fast, we’re in the yellow, slow them down,” Engineering. Scotty, her voice a mumble. “The vanes can’t take it that fast, not until we get new ones.”

Shedding velocity with every dump. The light-speed wave front of their arrival now far ahead of them. Racing through the system, signaling their arrival to anyone monitoring. There was no subtlety about coming out of jump space. Not for a trader like Hellraiser anyhow.

Zima snagged an energy pack from the holder on the side of her crash chair, popped the top, drank thirstily despite the godawful metallic taste in her mouth but you got used to that, never taking her eyes from the numbers as they rolled down the console, confirming the image display of vectors and speed. “In the envelope.” The words came more naturally now.

“Nockatunga three hundred twenty minutes Light,” Fredricks reported.

Five hours and twenty minutes until news of their translation into system reached Nockatunga Station. Another five hours for the reply to arrive, all while Hellraiser continued to dump V. Or not, if something went wrong. Like a vane blowing. Then they’d be a C-charged jump-ship at near light-speed careening out of control across the system. If they hit anything at this speed, it’d be a mini-nova.

“Okay,” Engineering said at last, twenty minutes later. “Vanes ’re green again.”

A long time between dumps at this velocity. In a few hours, Station Control would be blaring klaxons, alerts sounding when that long interval between dumps was detected. Suspecting a run-away. They’d really have to replace those vanes, dammit. Another expense, and a big one.

“Fifth Dump.” Another flicker, a flare of energy, velocity markedly slower now. Out of one danger zone and into the next.

“Send,” the Captain said. “Encrypted. Trader Ship Hellraiser inbound to Nockatunga, requesting berthing assignment. One week stopover. Offloading cargo for transfer to Matheson and Company. No passengers. Requesting Station Shiplist. Requesting Cargo Listings for on-shipment to Tuataupere and Apia.” Their next destinations. “Append the cargo list for Matheson, forward to them. Ask them if there’s anything for on-shipment, get us listed on the board.”

Dumping velocity steadily, they’d arrive in thirty hours, plus or minus. This was when the ship was most vulnerable. Pirates preyed on fat merchant ships wallowing in after dumping velocity from translation, lightly armed, slowing.

Vulnerable.

Like Hellraiser.

“Got an info dump from the beacon, Captain.” Fredricks, her fingers flying on her console.

“Put it up.”

“Almost … loading … it’s coming up … coming up … got it … coming through.” The image flashed into the main display.

Nockatunga system schematics, adjusted to their entry point. The system’s best current map. Planets. Asteroids. Rocks as best anyone knew and there were always surprises. Nockatunga station itself, way out in the Trojan Ring. Out-system and in-system traffic. Three inbound ahead of them. One outbound. In-system traffic looked busy. That was good. Busy meant cargo for on shipment and Nockatunga was a big station.

Busy system to service. Growing. One inhabitable planet, big agricultural sector, two planets with borderline atmospheres and domes, asteroid miners, space industry. Mines. Refineries. Manufacturing, both orbital and on-planet. Sixty three out-system jump-ships on station. Two military, the rest traders. Like Hellraiser. Competition.

“Five Skkk-kkik ships,” Fredricks was doing a quick scan of the ship lists. No competition there. “Three Ashaninka and what the heck are they doing here?” Likewise. “Two !!*.” She even managed the clicks. Methane breathers. Who knew what they were doing. Enigmatic at best, methane breathers but they had their own sector on most stations, trading god knew what between themselves and occasionally across the barrier. “Six Swire Line, four Tse Shipping, eight Kabushiki Line, six Angelicoussis, three from Beirut. One Lykes Line. The rest, independents.”

Like Hellraiser.

“Going to have to hustle for cargo,” Wong said. The purser. Busy bringing up manifests. Tenders from on station. Maybe a little out of date but she’d get an idea of volume, bids, requests for bids, tenders, how fast shipments were moving. Maybe even get some bids in on the off chance.

“Mark coming up,” Zima reported.

The Captain didn’t even look. Reached out. “Sixth Dump,” and Hellraiser flickered out of reality, transitioned back in again with another sudden flare of dumped energy. More V lost, getting close to in-system speeds now, they could coast for a few hours before the next dump. Out of jump space safely, but now that they were down to in-system velocity another kind of danger occupied their thoughts.

“Man the boards,” the Captain said. “Arm all weapons. Four hour shifts until we dock. Next dump at shift change.”

Thirty hours. Four hours on, four hours off. Even within systems like Nockatunga, with a half-way decent Navy patrolling shipping lanes, pirates existed. A ship like Hellraiser?

Prey.

Tension rose at the boards. Scanning. Monitoring. Looking for anything. Any sign. This far out, five hours Light, Station could do nothing. Hellraiser was on her own, wallowing in, fat and not quite helpless. She could fight, but when all was said and done, she was a trader, built for cargo.



Hellraiser was virtually real time, moving at a crawl. No more dumps. Now it was all real-space engines. Thrusters. Real-space braking. Station chatter on the coms in real-time now, no time-lags. Station to ship. Ship to Ship. No ships Hellraiser was familiar with though, no familiar names to call up and catch up on news. Current Station Ship List flickered up on one console as Fredricks adjusted the displays. There’d been some changes since they’d picked up that last inner beacon info dump. Mostly departures. More than expected.

“Station course and berthing clearance received,” Zima reported, flicking data across to the Captain’s console.

“Going with it,” the Captain said, his voice flat, his fingers flickering in the shimmer before him. “All hands, secure for braking in five minutes. This one’ll be easy.”

It was. A gentle braking roll, shedding more V under the thrusters, closing the station.

“Nockatunga Station to Hellraiser. Power down main engines, tugs are on your bow and stern.”

“Hellraiser powering down main engines.” At a nod from the Captain, Scotty flicked the switches, the humming of the main engines died. Mechanical clangs, echoing reverberations, slight jerks.

“Docking Control here. Latched on, reeling you in, Hellraiser.” A different voice. Small movements, jarring, gentle acceleration, almost unnoticeable even to an experienced spacer. More movements, more noise, more clanging as the Captain and the First Officer completed formalities with Nockatunga Customs. Shipping Manifests. Crew lists. Health certifications. Signing off on this. Signing off on that. All while keeping an eye on the displays monitoring docking.

The Purser, Wong, she was on her own console. Replenishment. Air, Water, Stores. Chemicals for hydroponics and for recycling. New filters. Galley stores. A myriad small items the ship needed to keep functioning. Boost mass. Scotty was with her, arguing over the new vanes she wanted for the jump engines. Wong flicked the order form to the Captain.

He looked at it. Filed it for consideration after docking was completed.

“Talk to me about the vanes after we’re docked, Scotty,” the Captain said. He was busy checking. The shipping market was already reacting to their arrival, traders guessing at what she carried based on her last ports and her listed destinations. Bids were starting to come in, customs had notified Hellraiser that an inspector was on the way. A couple of priority bids flashing on the console, priced well above the market.

Cryo-containers? Those were either corpsicles, severe injuries or illnesses being sent off-planet at huge expense, or frozen embryos. Agricultural or human? The crew were never keen on bodies, but if the money was good, anticipation of an added bonus usually offset the superstitions surrounding bodies on ships. The Captain flicked those ones to the First Officer to check out. Low mass, high return? That was always good.

Live passenger bids? That was unusual. Hellraiser had half a dozen passenger cabins. Right now filled with high value cattle embryos in cryo boxes. Semi-arid agricultural and mining plant like Nockatunga was always a good market for those. Passengers bidding over the standard fare for passage out though? That was unusual. Good margin.

After a brief second’s thought, the Captain accepted, filling all six cabins. Eight passengers in each? That’d be a pain in the ass but bids accepted, the credits were in escrow and transferred in to Hellraiser’s accounts instantly. Just like that, it’d turned the next leg to Tuataupere green. He and the First Officer grinned at each other. Bonuses for this trip were looking good for everyone. No problem paying for those new vanes now either.

The Captain signed off on the order, flicked it back to Wong and Scotty. Scotty looked up, smiling. One less thing to worry about, one more thing for her to do during the stop.

More clangs, jarring thumps. Other connections being made. Not just the grapples locking them to Station. Access tubes. Service connections. Power. Water. Oxygen. Waste. Coms lines. All the myriad means of ensuring that Hellraiser would function with her main power shut down.

Stillness and silence.

“Hey mate, Docking Control here,” the drawling voice on the intercom said. “Welcome to Nockatunga Station, you’re all good. Customs will be along in a sec. Sit tight ‘til then, they’ll get a bit shitty with ‘ya if ‘ya open the access hatches before they get there.”

“Thanks Docking,” First said. “Where do you blokes drink, buy you all a beer after we get off.” He’d been here before. Knew the ropes.

“That’s good of ya to offer, mate,” Docking said. “Cricketer’s Arms, Dockside, up on third level. Just ask at the hatch for Snowy and Trev. They’ll point ‘ya in the right direction. How many of ya? Any of ya sheila’s?”

First looked at the Captain. “Me and Scotty’ll take care of the ship,” the Captain said. “Give everyone the shift of, start unloading cargo oh nine hundred station time tomorrow.”

“Docking, there’ll be a dozen of us,” First said. “Half the crew’re sheila’s.”

“Sheila’s?” the Captain asked, flicking the com off for a second.

“Splits,” First said, flicking the com back on.

”Grouse, mate,” Docking replied. “I’ll tell the door to expect a mob of off Hellraiser, get ‘ya mates rates and everything. Sheila’s drink for free.”

“You Snowy?” First asked.

“Nah, I’m Trev,” Docking said. “Snowy’s me mate, he’s the ass bandit.”

“Trev’s the fucking Banana Bender,” a second voice cut in. “We gotta run, Hellraiser. Got a ship leaving, be seeing you at the Cricketers, then.”

“Right,” First said. “We’re buying the first round.”

“Ace,” Docking said. “Docking Control releasing Hellraiser, you can hook up to station power and services once Customs ‘ve been through ya. If ‘ya get Smithy, watch out for the fucker, he’s a fucking dropkick, don’t try and pay that fucker off or he’ll do ya. The rest’re okay, just slip ‘em the usual and you’ll be right.”

“Thanks mate,” First said, grinning. “Hellraiser out.”

* * *

They didn’t get Smithy. They got Keagan. She was a looker. “Hellraiser? You’ve been here before,” she said, reading the manifest of her comp. “All freight through Matheson? Nothing ship-traded?”

“Cryo-containers of embryos to trade on our own account,” First said. “Got a few containers of medical supplies to trade on the side as well. One container of Terran Bourbon.” Liquid gold, that stuff. The crew ‘d got together and paid a premium for it on New Kentucky, six stops ago.

“Trade ‘em through Ritchie’s ‘n I’ll sign of now,” Keagan said. “Otherwise I’ll have to inspect ‘em all.” She shrugged. “Ritchie’s are good, they won’t rip you off. Straight up, they are, mate.”

“Dealt through them before,” First said to the Captain. “They’re fair.”

“Deal,” the Captain said. He and Keagan shook on it.

Keagan grinned. “They’re at the hatch, read ‘ya manifest ‘n gave ‘em the heads up, mate.” She took the credits the Captain slipped her, didn’t even look at them, just tucked them in a pocket, signed off.

“This bloke’s Whelan,” she said. “Ritchie’s rep. He’ll see ‘ya right.” She grinned. “Trev tells me you’re going off to the Cricketer’s to sink a few.”

“Ah, yeah,” First said, giving Keagan a speculative glance. Not a bad looking chick at all. “You think you might be there?”

Keagan grinned. “You buying?”

“If you’re there, yeah, too right I am.”

“Cool bananas. I’ll throw some lippy on and see ‘ya there after I finish me shift, sport.” Her smile this time was a bit more than speculative.

After she was gone, Whelan grinned. “She’s a right little cracker, our Keagan,” he said. “Bangs like a dunny door.” He laughed. “She’ll drink you under the table first if you’re not careful though, mate. Make sure you sink the old pork sword before she gets ya slurping the turps too hard, eh.”

First grinned. “I’ll risk it.” He glanced at the Captain. “Want me to do this one?”

The Captain thought about it. “Yeah, I’ll send you Patel, Zima, Suematsu and Zhu to move the cans to the ramp.” He glanced at Whelan. “You can move them from the ramp?”

“Yeah, too right I can, mate. Got a mover and a couple of blokes out there on the dock waiting.”

“Let’s get on it,” First said.

“Righto, mate.” Whelan was grinning from ear to ear.

* * *

“Whose round’s this?” Bhatti was wobbling. She’d never learnt to drink hard. She tried though.

“Not yours, luv,” one of the dock jackaroos said, arm around her. “How ‘bout you and me take a walk?”

Bhatti looked at him, looked down, looked back up, blinked, giggled. “Yeah, okay,” she said. She looked around. “Be back for shift start, guys.” She giggled again. “Let’s go, big boy.”

Zima watched her leaving, half envious at how Bhatti somehow latched onto a guy right away at every stop. She knew how to enjoy herself. Never talked about it afterwards, but she always came back to the ship smiling. The two exited to a storm of whistles and cat calls from his mates.

“I’ll get this round,” Suematsu said. He wasn’t much of a drinker but he always made sure he bought his fair share. Wong now, the purser although she didn’t look it, she was busy flirting with three different guys. She was attractive enough, a petite Nouveau Beijing girl who’d made it off–planet and never been back. “Sucks back home,” she’d said to Zima once. “Never going back. Shamed the family name by running off to space. The family’d fucking kill me if I did turn back up.”

A bit like Zima’s family would with her if she ever went back. Scarlet woman, that’s what she’d be. She’d be lucky if they only stoned her. Goddamn planet from the dark ages, that was New Jerusalem. Nouveau Beijing didn’t sound much better. Nockatunga now, this place was more like it. A girl could relax and enjoy herself on a planet like this.

“Yeah, how the fuck does a Nockatunga girl make herself look attractive?” Wong was laughing at one of the station guys. Jackeroos, that’s what they said they called ‘em. Weird slang, they had here. Bruce? Yeah, that was his name. Bruce. He’d been there with Snowy and Trev when they arrived.

Keagan wasn’t amused. If looks could’ve killed, Bruce would’ve been sliced and diced. First took her arm, drew her back, closer to him. “Any good restaurants on station?” he asked.

“Just down from here,” Keagan gave him that smile, the one that seemed to say she wanted to eat him alive. First was more than willing.

“Tucks her feet behind her ears.” Bruce’s voice carried.

“I can do that,” Wong giggled.

“Want to show me?”

“Show you? Bring Snowy and Trev here and I’ll show all three of you.” And Wong was going. Zima guessed she’d be having a good time too. Letting off steam after a month in jump space.

“Do they really?” First asked as Keagan fumed.

She giggled suddenly. “Want to find out for yourself, do you?”

Watching First walking out the hatch with his arm around Keagan, Zima had her own little moment of excitement. A man’d be good, but none of the stationers she’d seen in here did it for her. Maybe a good massage? They were here for a week. Maybe she’d just take a stroll and look around. Not many of the crew left here now. Fredricks had already got herself picked up, she was long gone. Roget and Walton were laying a line on some Nockatunga chick that looked like she’d been worked hard and hung out to dry a few too many times.
Patel and Zhu were deep in a card game. Suematsu was about to get himself picked up by some big blonde spacer dude of another ship. God knows where Kateneff and O’Reilly had gone, but Zima wasn’t going to hang around here by herself and fend off pickup attempts she wasn’t interested in. Without a word, she slipped through the crowd and out the hatch into the corridor.

Inside the Cricketers, the noise’d been deafening. In the corridor, still busy but less noise. A lot less. Zima relaxed, just wandered. Good to have some space, somewhere off ship that she didn’t know like the back of her hand. Something to eat? Something different from ship food. Quick check on her comp. One level up and a short walk and she’d found a food center. Small, just a bay with half a dozen stands but it was busy and Jesus it smelled good.

A tray. Peri-peri chicken, a couple of samosa’s, jasmine rice, salad. Sitting by herself, Zima ate slowly, enjoying herself, enjoying the textures and the flavors. Beat the heck out of nutrient packs and shipboard meals, ready to eat. She ate and watched the display on the wall. Sports mostly. Cricket? Seemed like some game being played down gravity on the planet itself. Seemed a big thing on Nockatunga. Some sort of weird football game as well but it wasn’t sports that interested Zima.

Massage. That’s what she wanted. A good massage.

Wong and her men? Zima felt a little jealous but Wong’s upbringing, it’d been a lot different from hers. Women on Nouveau Beijing, they had a real different approach to sex, they were expected to be good at it and they were taught how to be. Nobody expected a Nouveau Beijing girl to be a virgin. Do what she was told yes, but she was expected to know what she was doing when she was told to do it. Not like back home. Sex back home was something that happened after marriage and nobody ever talked about it. Somehow, it just happened.

“Lie back, close your eyes and think of Jerusalem,” she’d heard her Mom advise her older sister after she’d gotten married. She’d heard a lot more too, including her own marriage arrangements and hadn’t that been an unpleasant surprise when she found out the family was planning to marry her off to the Rector. The old guy’d already been through three wives and he was sixty. Zima had no intention of being the fourth.

She’d headed off-planet instead and that had taken some doing. A bus to the shuttle port. A job on Station as a cleaner and that’d taken every credit she had to bribe the HR clerk doing the assignments. Thank god she was the older sister of a friend and she sympathized with Zima. Single girls weren’t allowed off planet. Not by themselves but with the HR clerk’s help, she’d managed. On station, determined to run out system before the Guardians caught up with her, she’d been lucky. The spacer that’d gotten her onto his ship had been First on an old freighter, he’d signed her on as crew. Made sure she got papers, training.

She’d gotten what she wanted. Out.

He’d gotten what he wanted. In.

In for three long years. Zima still thought it’d been a fair trade even though she hadn’t enjoyed it that much. She wasn’t exactly a virgin now, he’d seen to that. But he’d been fair, he’d gotten her papers, gotten her trained, she hadn’t been used and discarded and she’d seen that happen more than once over the last couple of years. He’d even helped her when she wanted to move on, given her a reference when she put in her papers for Hellraiser.

Hellraiser was a good ship. Good captain, good crew but despite the change, her upbringing still hung over her. She’d tried sex a few times on her own account but she’d never really enjoyed it, not that much, even though she wanted to. It’d be fun to do what Wong and Bhatti and the others did, just find a man and go with him and have a good time. Enjoy herself without that guilt. Maybe next stop she’d ask Wong for some advice. She’d offered in the past.

But right now, here and now, she wasn’t ready for that. A massage. That was what she wanted. A good one, the sort of personal massage that would give her what she wanted. Her comp flagged a few with good reviews nearby. One that was all five stars close by. A little twinge of excitement thrilled through her as she stood, walked slowly towards that listed address. It didn’t take long to find. Down corridor a couple of hundred meters and there it was.

“You do massages?” Zima asked, peering in through the hatch. There was some kind of padded couch there, no massage table.

The alien looked up from its workstation. It’s facial expression, if you could call that a face with those huge crystalline multi-faceted eyes, somehow conveyed a warm smile, a smile so warm and friendly that Zima found herself stepping through the hatch and into the compartment without any hesitation.

“Yezzzzz, mazzzagezzzz izzz what I do, come inzzzide? Do you wizzzzhhhh a mazzzzage?”

“You know how to massage humans?” Zima breathed in, a warm summer scent that relaxed her, had her thinking of her childhood, playing innocently in the long grass with her brothers and sisters and friends, rolling in the newcut hay, swimming naked with the other girls in the river at mid-summer. Some kind of incense? She breathed in again, smiling.

“Yezzzzz, yezzzz, humanzzzz, I am good at humanzzzzz,” the alien hummed. That humming voice had a pleasant undertone, a warm caring and a good humor that carried even through the translator. “You may call me Buzzzzzz, my ratezzzz are on the board,” it said, gesturing with one hand.

It had six hands, Zima noted without surprise. Three pairs of arms, three pairs of hands, two short legs, a long bulky abdomen almost trailing the floor between those two legs and joined by a narrow waist to a solid thorax. A large head. Were those vestigial wings? Jesus, she’d never seen one like this before. Huge, multi-faceted eyes, body and head covered in silky-fine golden hair.

The rates? Reasonable. Very reasonable. Not low, but not overpriced either.

“Sexual release?” she asked. Not blushing the way she would’ve with another human. “Human female?”

“Guaranteed,” Buzz hummed. “I am very zzzzzkilled.” Could a giant bee smile? Zima had that impression.

“Your name izzzzz?” it asked.

“Zima,” Zima said.

“Come through, Zzzzima. No zzzzzatizzzfaction, no need to pay,” it added.

“That’s fair,” Zima said, surprised. Feeling good about this now. She felt a lot more comfortable getting release from an alien like Buzz. Human massage parlors, some of them could do that for her, some not. Her experiences had been hit and miss. Mostly miss. She’d learnt to fake it just fine for men, but faking it for men wasn’t the same as actually getting there herself.

“Come through, come through,” Buzz gestured. Zima followed it through the hatch. That scent she’d inhaled before grew stronger, flooded her senses, as intoxicating as spring flowers in the sun after a summer shower, drawing her on, eager now. Eager and excited.

“Take your clothezzzz off and lie down on the mazzzzage table pleazzze.” Closer to him, she could hear his buzzing as well as the voice from the translator unit. That buzz somehow reverberated through her in a way that the translated words did not. Reverberated. Resonated. That buzz was masculine, firm with being commanding. Zima found herself responding automatically, peeling off her linen shirt, stepping out of the new silk trousers she’d picked up on Guilin a few stops ago.

“Remove underwear too, pleazzzze,” Buzz hummed.

A moment’s hesitation. She’d always been reticent about stripping naked, part of her upbringing on New Jerusalem. Now? Buzz was alien. There was no need for her to worry about any interest on his part. Zima shrugged her bra off. Another moment’s hesitation before she peeled off her panties and lay face down on the padded massage table.

Naked.

“Ahhhhhh,” Buzz hummed warmly. Two hands traced her shoulders, her back, ran all the way down to her lower back, exploring. “You are very fit for human. In very good condition.”

“Mmmmm,” Zima sighed, relaxing. God, he was good. Three pairs of hands? Bliss. Warmth of summer in her face, padded table beneath, hands working her shoulders, her neck, her back, her butt and her legs, fingers digging deep, painfully deep, loosening tightness, working away at the kinks, the stress, loosening her where she’d had no idea she was taut and strained and stressed.

“Izzzzz that good,” Buzz hummed. “Izzzz that good, Zzzzima.”

“Oh god, yes,” Zima sighed, surprised that her legs were spreading themselves as two of his hands worked delicately at the muscles of her inner thighs. “Oh god, yes.”

Yes!

Buzz’s fingers teased across the backs of her thighs, two more of his hands gently massaged her butt, the other two worked down her spine, worked up, worked down, leaving her shivering with the pleasure of his touch. He really was good and when his fingers brushed her labia, as gentle and as light as feathers, sudden awareness of how wet with excitement she already was flooded her, had her hands clutching at the padded surface of the massage table.

“Oh god, yes,” she breathed, hips lifting a little, legs parting eagerly for his touch as they’d never parted eagerly for any human touch.

“Touch yourzzzelf there, Zzzzzima,” Buzz hummed. “Feel your own wetnezzzzz, you are zzzzo wet.”

Zima did, sliding one hand beneath herself, touching herself between her legs, feeling her own seeping wetness, feeling Buzz’s long fingers under hers as she brushed herself lightly, feeling her own swollen clitoris. Buzz’s fingertips brushed her clitoris too, rocketing pleasure caused her heart to pound, her hips to push upwards and she wanted more.

“This is what it’s like?” She gasped for breath, almost moaning with her excitement and her need, wondering his this was how Wong felt when she was with men. Zima had never felt like this with a man, never, but if she had, she knew she’d go back for more of this willingly, eagerly. As eagerly as Wong did.

“Yes,” she moaned. “Yes… yes…” as Buzz’s fingers teased her to a slippery, swollen, open excitement that wanted more. Begged for more. Pleaded for more. Pleaded for her body to be taken and made use of. Pleaded for more as she’d never pleaded to a man. Although if a man had walked through the door, she knew in that moment that she’d be willing to try with him.

But there was no man. There was only Buzz. “Ohhhhh,” she begged now. “Please, Buzz …. Please.” Begged as she’d never begged a man.

“Patienzzzze, Zzzzima,” Buzz hummed. “Patienzzzzze.”

But Zima had no patience, not now. Only excitement, only need, only desire, only longing for a pleasure such as she’d never before experienced but now that she had, she found irresistible. Something wet poured onto her back, wet, oily, slippery, deliciously scented. Buzz’s hands moved over her now with satiny enjoyment. Massage oil, Zima thought, body tensing now with the sheer pleasure of his hands sliding over her skin, smooth sliding strokes that brought not relaxation but tingling excitement, heated desire.

Buzz wasn’t talking but as he massaged her, he was vocalizing, a humming song that rose and fell around her, resonated within her, filling her with the music of summer, of flowers blooming in the sun, grass growing under summer rain, fruits trees blooming and growing, eager shoots searching and reaching for the sky, pollen released and shared, growth under golden sunlight, the sprinkling warmth of a summer shower.

Pollen released, bee’s drinking deeply of nectar, collecting that pollen, transferring it from flower to flower, cross-pollinating as they drank nectar to take back to the hive. To feed the workers, feed the Hive Queen, fertilize the Hive Queen’s eggs, incubate those eggs and hatch them. Buzz’s hum fed a deep desire within Zima, awakened a desire to give herself, to be taken, possessed, a desire to service a male, to receive his seed, to give life.

A desire as old as woman was old.

Buzz’s hands gently turned her, moved her to lie on her back, massaged that slippery massage oil across her shoulders, her chest, her breasts, her stomach, her thighs and now Zima could see he was using a jar half filled with a translucent green jelly that he scooped out and layered across her skin, his hands sliding on her, gliding on her, caressing her, finding her swollen nipples and the only thing better than two hands on her breasts and nipples turned out to be four hands while two more caressed her belly and her thighs, now circling, now digging deep, now teasing her labia so that her hips juddered upwards with her need.

“Please,” she begged, increasingly desperate for the release she now longed for. “Please.”

“Patienzzze, Zzzzzima,” Buzz seemed to smile, humming of summer and of fecundity and of desire and of service. “Patienzzzzze.”

But his hands did nothing to assist her in regaining any patience. Rather, his caresses increased her need, her desire, her impatience for that release she now craved. That humming seemed to increase in power, if not in volume, resonating within her body, feeding her desire and now two of his hands concentrated on her breasts, full and heavy and swollen, her nipples rubbery, aching. His fingers teasing, caressing, tugging, squeezing lightly so that Zima moaned as her back arched, as she offered Buzz her breasts as she had never offered them to a male of her own species.

His other four hands. Two of them were on her inner thighs, parting them, spreading her, massaging her muscles. The other two? One teased her sex, teased her labia. Teased her inner entrance delicately. The other reached out, scooped up a fingerful of that deliciously aromatic translucent green jelly held in that large jar, applied it delicately to her sex.

“Ooohhhhhh.” Shivering with pleasure, Zima moaned as the translucent green jelly coated her entrance, the cool gel accentuating the sensations she was experiencing, accentuating her desire, her excitement.

“Open yourzzzelf for me, Zzzzina,” Buzz hummed, that scent of summer wafting across her face as he hummed, and Zima obeyed.

Obeyed instantly. Both of her hands slid down over her belly, her fingertips found her labia, pressed, eased herself apart, exposing her entrance to Buzz’s huge multi-faceted orbs as she had never exposed herself to a human male. Two of his hands seized her legs, spread her wide, two caressed her breasts, one scooped a handful of that translucent jelly out and held it while one finger of his remaining hand scooped some up, eased that fingerload into her entrance where Zima held herself open. Where Zima was so wet and so open and so exposed.

Zima shuddered as she felt a finger work that jelly inside her.

Buzz’s finger eased inside her, eased out, applied more jelly, again and again, working a cupful of the green translucency inside her before his long slender finger sank deeply within her body, caressing her inner walls now, touching her were only her own species had ever touched her. Only males of her own species. Never an alien but to Zima, Buzz’s touch within her was beyond anything she’d ever experienced. Touching her deeper with than she had ever been touched before with that long long finger.

Wet? Zima was liquid inside and the jelly accentuated her liquid readiness. When Buzz eased a second finger into her, stretching her a little, Zima squealed and shuddered, hanging suspended in a molten bath of pure pleasure. When a finger of his other hand probed her anal entrance, Zima almost screamed. The jelly he inserted there somehow seemed to open her to the finger that penetrated her, open her wider and wider as he scooped more and more jelly and fed it into her anal channel, massaging it into her body just as his other fingers massaged her vaginal channel until her squeals and moans became screams.

“Jesus Jesus Jesus oh god oh god ohhhh ohh ohhh ohhhhhhhhhhh.” Zima could hear herself as that orgasmic explosion of pleasure went on and on and on and on. One wave of golden sensation after another flooding her from the tips of her toes to her fingertips as she arched upwards on the massage table, only her shoulders and her feet touching the padding, her body a bow, an arch, seeking more and more of the pleasure that pervaded her senses.

Buzz’s hands, all six of them, massaged her everywhere, digging deep here, massaging lightly there, teasing another orgasmic wave from her clitoris, probing and exploring inside her. Scents of warm honey and dried grass washed over her, filled her lungs so that she wanted nothing more than to bury her face in the silk of Buzz’s fine hair and inhale deeply. It looked down at her, those huge multi-faceted eyes reflecting her face a thousand times but somehow they seemed warm, warm and caring. Sunlight and green grass and butterflies on a summer breeze under a cloudless blue sky as his fingers drove her out of her mind with unadulterated excitement.

That was all Zima could think of as her hips juddered upwards, as her orgasmic climax overwhelmed her senses, as that humming buzz resonated through her body. It was a long long time before she could even think, and when she did, it was to eye Buzz in awe.

“Oh god,” Zima sighed. “I think I’m in love.” She looked at Buzz and giggled. “I’m in love with a giant alien bee or something. Can we do that again?”

Buzz’s laugh was a gentle buzzzzzzzz conveying humor, laughter, amusement, even love. “Of courzzzze,” he hummed and if a giant alien bee could’ve smiled, Zima swore that’s what he was doing. “Zzztandard Ratezzzz of courzzzzze.”

“Of course,” Zima smiled. Worth every credit. Jesus. Again, please.

Zima, she was smiling all the way back to Hellraiser. She was still smiling when she woke up after a solid off-shift’s sleep. She smiled every evening as she went off-shift, knowing that soon she would be walking towards Buzz’s compartment for her nightly massage. Soon Buzz would be massaging her to that release she desired and longed for and anticipated and welcomed. She didn’t even mind waiting while her finished with whatever client he was working with when she arrived.

None of Buzz’s clients minded waiting for Buzz.

* * *

“Halloween Night the evening before we ship out, First,” the Captain said over coffee with three days to go. “Seems to be a popular thing here, any idea what it’s all about?”

“Some sort of old Terran tradition,” First shrugged. “No idea really, Keagan said you gotta dress up in costumes, scarier the better apparently. Seems weird to me, but Nockatunga’s big on these things.”

“Guess you’ve got plans then?” the Captain asked.

First shrugged. “Keagan asked me, told her I’d check in and let her know. You mind if I take the night off myself? Keagan’s got this party she wants me to come too with her.”

“Don’t get too serious, First,” the Captain said.

“No worries, mate,” First grinned. “But hey, we’ll be coming back through here, want to keep her sweet, she’s a good one ‘n she’ll be as mad as a cut snake if I don’t front up.”

“Jesus, First,” the Captain groaned, “you’re starting to sound like a Nockatungan.”

“I am? That’s just dinky-di, mate.”

The Captain laughed. “You take that last night off, First. I’ll take the ship.” He shrugged. “Usually do, and things ’re looking good. I’ll take a quiet night and con us out.” He was pleased with way things were looking good for the next leg.

Really good. Full holds for the run to Tuataupere, a full passenger list, those premium cryo-boxes already onboard and paid for. Ritchies had gotten them a four hundred percent markup on that container of bourbon and they’d picked up a couple of containers of Nockatungan Bundaberg Rum that’d sell well in Apia for sure. Maybe even sell in Tuataupere if the bids were good.

“I’m thinking everyone can take the shift off, we’ll be done loading and I hear there’s going to be some good Halloween Parties. I’ll look after the ship.”
“Be good for the crew,” First said. “They’ve been working their asses off this stop.”

“Hey, First, you heard about the Halloween Party at the Tiki Bar?” Wong sat down at the table, poured herself a coffee. “Most of us ‘re planning on going.” She grinned. “If that tyrant gives is the time off, that is. You and Keagan wanna come with us?”

“Nah, can’t do that, Wong. Keagan’s dragging me off with some mates of hers, some party up on Station Crew level. She’ll spew if I don’t show.”

“Ohhhhh, aren’t we picking up the local dialect just fine?” Wong laughed. “Just pulling your leg, First, you have your bit of fun. Bit worried about Zima though, she’s been going off on her own pretty much every off-shift. Doesn’t let off steam enough, that girl.”

“Zima?” Bhatti said, joining them. “Don’t worry ‘bout her, she’s found some dude. Comes back smiling every night. Told me she’s been having a great time.”

First grinned. “Good for her.”

“Time she loosened up a bit,” Wong sipped her coffee.

“Hey, Wong, what’re we gonna wear to the Halloween Party at the Tiki Bar?” Bhatti changed the subject.

“Nothing?” Wong said, then burst into laughter at Bhatti’s expression.

* * *

“Got another missing spacer report, boss. Some sheila didn’t report back to her ship for a couple of days.” MacInerney looked up from his consoles. “That’s six sheila’s in the last two days boss. Bit higher than average.”

“Probably jumping ship and heading downside. Can’t blame ‘em, can ya? God’s own planet, ‘n everything. What Sheila wouldn’t wanna head down, find blokes like us, get ‘erself preggers ‘n bring up some happy little vegemites. Beats the crap outa working as a spacer dunnit, mate? I mean, where’d ya rather be if you were a sheila, mate? Up here in the blue or a fucking sight worse, out there in the deep black in a jump ship, or down surfing at Saint Kilda ‘n watching smoking hot dudes likes us in budgie smugglers.” He laughed. “If you’re a fucking Sheila, mate.”

“Yeah, guess so, boss. Watcha want me to do about this one?

“Fuck it, mate, the more sheila’s downside the better, eh. Put a notice out on her but fuck it, lot of these bitches, you hear their stories, the sorta shit planet they got away from, I tell ya, you gotta feel sorry for them. Let her run, that’s my take on it unless she’s a real crim. Downside won’t give a flying fuck.”

“Righto, boss, I’ll list her, low priority. Fuckit, list all the others as low priority to. Give ‘em a chance, eh.”

“Yeah, that’ll do, Mac. No skin of our noses, plenty of spacers on station looking for ships.”

“Not the last few weeks, boss, they musta been shipping out or something. Patrol’s ‘re saying it stands out like a dogs balls. Not picking up any dero’s, the cells’re just about empty. They haven’t been finding anyone bunking down in the docking bays.”

“Well, that’s no fucking problem then, is it?”

“Guess not, boss. Wanna cuppa?”

“Fuck yeah, you go make it, I’ll watch the consoles.”

“Right you are, boss.”

* * *

“Last off-shift on station,” the Captain said after he’d called everyone in to the mess. “Good work, everyone. Holds ‘re loaded to capacity, this is going to be a good run. Now, we got forty eight passengers booked for the run to Tuataupere, and that’s gonna be a bitch. They’re all embarking at oh seven hundred station time tomorrow and our departure slot’s at oh ten hundred, customs and immigration ‘re clearing us at oh nine hundred so all of you be back by oh six hundred, got it? No excuses.”

“Got it, captain,” the crew chorused.

“Okay, take off, enjoy yourselves. Plenty of Halloween Parties tonight, so I hear. Anybody needs bailing out, I’m leaving you behind.” The crew moved off down the access tube, chattering, laughing. One last evening to blow off steam before a month of jump space.

“Your girl clearing us out?” the Captain asked First.

“Keagan?” First grinned. “Yeah, as a matter of fact she will be.”

Wong giggled. “Hey, First, can she tuck her feet behind her ears?”

First grinned. “That’d be telling, Wong. How come you’re still here, anyhow?”

Wong shrugged. “My guys don’t get off shift for another hour. Want to come with me and grab a drink while we wait?”

First shrugged. “Sure, see you in the morning, Cap.”

“Going to be you and me again, Scotty,” the Captain said, closing the access hatch.

Scotty shrugged apologetically. “Just you, Cap,” she said, opening it again. “Got me a hot date for a Halloween Party.” And she was gone as well, walking down the tube to the dock where a gaudy toy-boy half her age and smiling stood waiting.

* * *

“Coming drinking with us, Zima?” Patel asked. “Going to the Tiki Bar up on Level Six. Bit fancy but they’re doing a Halloween theme party and everything and the drinks’re half price.”

“Naah, met someone on station, going to a Halloween Party with him,” Zima said. Buzz had said it was going to be something different. What the heck would a giant alien bee thing know about Halloween parties, that’s what Zima had wanted to know? Buzz had, well, he’d buzzed. “You’d be zzzzzurrprizzzzed, Zzzzzzima.”

“Okay, change your mind, we’re at Burt’s Tiki Bar, in the Richmond Mall on Level Six, okay,” Wong said. “Enjoy yourself, Zima, stay out of trouble.” Like Zima’d get into trouble. Wong grinned. Stretched. Wiggled. Bruce and Trev and Snowy, all three of them. This was gonna be a good night. Those guys could keep it up alright. All night. All three of them at once. That was how she planned to finish up tonight. Oh yeah! Good night, coming up!

Zima waited until they were out of sight before she turned and headed towards’s Buzz’s compartment. “Meet me there,” he’d said. “I have a costume for you.” His hum had sounded excited to Zima. She kind of liked the thought that Buzz was actually excited about her and this party. Weird to think that way about an alien, especially one that looked as strange as Buzz did, but whatever. She’d miss his massages when they shipped out in the morning.

She was kind of looking forward to the Halloween Party as well. They didn’t do Halloween Parties on New Jerusalem, she’d had to look it up to figure out what it was all about. Kind of like Buzz and his friends must’ve. Although when you thought about it, going to a Halloween Party with an alien kind of bee insect thing although he did have hands really was a bit weird. Didn’t take her long to get to his compartment either. Hatch was open, she walked right in and as soon as she breathed in that summer scent and heard that faint background buzz, well, it wasn’t weird at all.

“Hey, Buzz.” She smiled, although she doubted smiling meant a thing to him. Just as whatever facial expressions or body language he used was a mystery to her. His humming though, that was something else. Something that seemed able to be shared.

“Zzzzzzzima,” Buzz’s hum was an infectious happiness that even the half dozen other women standing around in the compartment did nothing to inhibit. Buzz did massages, he had clients. Of course he’d invite his other clients. “Come, I have your cozzzztume, change now pleazzzzze and we zzzhall go.”

He held up a red dress with large black circular markings on it, a lot shorter than Zima was accustomed to, a black hood and black stockings. Really, it was only then that Zima, who’d had eyes only for Buzz, noticed that was how all the other women were dressed, the black hoods fastened under their chins but leaving their faces exposed, the short dresses exposing legs clad in black thigh high stockings.

Zima giggled. “We’re all going to look like ladybugs,” she said.

“Ladybugzzzz?” Buzz’s hum sounded puzzled for a second, then morphed into that laughing hum that Zima loved to hear. “Oh Zzzzzzima, you are zzzzoooo perzzzzeptive. Come .. come … we muzzzzzt change and be on our way. Ladybuggzzzz, how apt, you do not know how apt, Zzzzima. Yezzzzzz. Definitely Ladybuggzzzz. I muzzzt tell the otherzzzz after we arrive. They will appreciate thizzzzz.”

* * *

“Where are we going anyway?” Zima asked as she walked beside Buzz, heading down station, down the ramps, feet echoing of steel plating, stark fluorescent lighting, dark shadows, chipped paint. The dim corners and industrial starkness of the access-way contrasting with the new clothes, bright colors, voices and laughter of the half dozen women walking with Buzz. This part of station really was commercial, the sort of area a girl didn’t wander through by herself when it was downtime. A group, that was okay, but alone, nope.

“Going? Commercial Docking, Level Zero,” Buzz said. “My friendzzzz have a commercial bulk warehouzzzze cloze to the dockzzzz their szzzzhipzzzz uzzzze. Lotzzzz of zzzpace. Empty right now. We are uzzing for thizzz Halloween Party. Thizzz Halloween thing izzz zzzuch a great human cuzzzztom.” His hum contained a laughter within it that had Zima smiling. “Trick or Treat? We enjoy thizzzz trick or treat. We decided to have a big party.”

“Are they all your customers?” Zima asked, gesturing at the others with them.

“Yezzzz,” Buzz replied, “But zzzzum are more special than otherzzzz…” Somehow his tone conveyed to Zima that she, she was that special one, she was the one above all else.

He gestured. “Through thizzzz way, Zima. Almozzzzt there now.” His humming held that excited undertone again, an excitement that not only Zima but the other women all seemed to catch and share. They clustered close to Buzz, talking, giggling excitedly, looking around eagerly as Buzz led them through a commercial loading hatch, the coaming flush to the station floor plating. Another alien, identical to Buzz, greeted them. The two hummed and buzzed, almost doing a little dance before Buzz led them through another large hatch and into a cavernous warehouse space. A cavernous but still crowded warehouse space.

“Wow,” was the first thing Zima said.

“Scary,” was the second thing Zima said.

Her first visual impression was awesome, terrifyingly awesome. If a Halloween Party was supposed to be scary, this was the definitive of scary. The cavernous warehouse space was no longer the rock of the asteroid that had been the basis of Nockatunga Station, rock-carved tunnels covered by sprayed on plasteel and built out with welded steel plating. Now it was a cliff face, ancient rock, a canyon wall honeycombed with shadowed holes that gave an impression of great age. Not just age, but aeon’s of ancientness, century after century of age, age and vague half-lighted gloom illuminated by a pale moonlight glowing balefully from an eldritch sky in which flying things could be seen in the far distance.

The shadows of those ages past crowded in upon Zima, chaotic, horrific, soulless, the vast wings of ancient and unknown alien gods hovering over an alien landscape. The floor on which she trod was no longer thick steel decking plate. It was sand, thick and golden, packed hard. Sand and stretching away across the floor of what had been a standard warehouse compartment but now was not. Now, lines of columns broke the space down into a honeycomb of enclosed spaces through which a hundred aliens like Buzz hummed busily.

The columns themselves were symmetrical without being graceful, sullenly hexagonal, massive and stark, an architecture not of humans but of aliens, conceived and built in what Zima knew instinctively was an age before even the dawn-time of humanity. An age where the ancestors of humans cowered terrified and afraid in the darkness of the night and dreamed of monsters and of monstrous gods.

Here were those monsters out of humanity’s ancestral nightmares, what had been the warehouse walls and ceiling coated with giant cobwebs, huge arthropods with the appearance if giant spider-like monstrosities clinging to the webs. Dangerously large and hungry spiders. Music piped from the speakers, a buzzing hum reverberating within Zima so that her feet begged to dance. A reverberating pulsing hum with an ancient eeriness to it that scared her a little even as her feet began to move of their own accord.

“On our home world,” Buzz hummed, “these are the beings that traditionally prey on us, a beast to be feared.”

“Scary,” Zima murmured.

“Yezzzzzz,” Buzz almost shivered. “We hunt them, but zzzztill, they are dangerouzzzzz. Our ancestorzz and theirzz, we war over hunting territory, we war over breeding groundzz but the hive izzz victoriouzzzz, the hive is alwayzzzz victoriouzzz.” His hum turned happier. “But now, Halloween Party for our hozzztzzzz. You dance with friendzzzzz.”

“Hosts?” Zima laughed. “You’re the hosts, Buzz. We’re the guests.” Translators. Sometimes they got confused.

“Hozzztzzz?” Buzz’s hum had that laugh again. Laughter and excitement, both. An excitement that had Zima’s heart beating faster, the way it did when she walked into Buzz’s compartment of an evening, knowing how he would make her feel. And yes, there was what seemed to be a dance floor, crowded with women, all dressed identically in the short red and black dresses, the black tights and the black hoods, all dancing languidly to that humming music.

Zima giggled. A swarm of dancing ladybugs, that’s what she was reminded of.

Buzz hummed. “I will mark you firzzt, Zzzzzima, mark you before you dance zzzo the otherzzzz will know you are mine.” His head dipped towards Zima, his large multi-faceted eyes glinting in the dimly sparkling light, his proboscis exuded a little fluid which one of his long fingers dabbed onto Zima’s neck. “You all look very much the zzzame to uzz, Zzzima, so we muzzt mark you zo azz to know who brought you.” His hum became one of satisfaction as an intoxicating scent wafted across Zima’s face. “Dance for me Zzzzima, enjoy party time, Zima.” His hum resonated with amusement. “Be a happy ladybug, Zzzzzima.”

Breathing in, inhaling that scent, Zima wanted nothing more than to dance with the others, to enjoy herself, to loose herself in the eerily humming buzz of that ancient music, waves of sound that reverberated through her body, filled her mind, suffocating thought. Music that felt ancient beyond thought, music that had been millennia old when Sumer was in its infancy and human’s still struggled to be more than beasts. Hypnotic and compelling. Exciting.

“Dance for me, Zzzzzima. Dance with the otherzzzzz.” The fingers of one hand stroked her cheek, his other hands turned her, urged her onto the wide expanse of sand now filled with half a thousand woman all dressed in those short red and black dresses, those black caps, those black tights. All dancing, all lost in the music, their eyes half-glazed, following those who had brought them here as Zima’s eyes followed Buzz.

Zima lost herself in the depths of the trance-like music, dancing with the others, a sea of women moving mindlessly, absorbed, their faces as entranced as hers, as lost in the music as she was. She knew Buzz was watching her and now she danced for him, just as the other women he had brought with him were also dancing for him, dancing for him as he stood and watched them. That music piped through her, singing to her soul, commanding her body, driving thought away. A relentless hypnotic pulse that fed her excitement, her desire, her willingness to surrender herself to Buzz. Her eagerness.

Her dance became a whirlwind of fire and tropical storm and passion and heat and spring seed sown, of fertility and fecundity. She was the ground to be ploughed for sowing, soil in which the seed was scattered, she was the one who hosted life, who nurtured life within her body, who hosted and protected the life that would grow within her and who at last gave birth and her dance for Buzz was one of offering herself, of giving herself, of giving life. The alien music sang to her of those things, fed her emotions, her feelings, fed her excitement.

Her universe narrowed to Buzz’s huge multi-faceted eyes glinting in the baleful moonlight as her feet flew, as her body whirled and spun, red and black spinning and whirling in a sea of dancing red and black. The dance floor now was lined and circled by Buzz and his brethren, a circled of golden-haired aliens, strangely still as their multi-faceted orbs watched, as they hummed to the music, a hum that became more and more powerful. A hum of hunger and of taking that reverberated through the dancers, exciting them, driving every thought from their minds but for that willingness to give life of themselves.

Buzz’s singing hum was so distinctive that Zima could identify it though the humming song of a hundred other aliens. A humming rope that hung between her and Buzz, and in that hum, Zima could feel his growing excitement, feel his desire and his need to give life and her own body responded, her dancing now of Time and Eternity, of Creation and Death, of the urging to give Life, to give Birth, to find Death and dissolution and fulfillment in that giving birth.

Zima longed now for Buzz, for his hands, for his touch, but now she longed for more than that. She longed to give herself to Buzz as a woman would give herself to a male of her own species. She longed to give herself to him and somehow the eerily humming song told her that on this night, on this special night, that was possible, and that to do so tonight would be exhalation, sacrifice and heaven, all in one. All in one joyous act of surrender and creation.

She could see from the faces around her that the exaltation, the excitement, the desire she felt was shared, shared by every woman here. Almost from beside her, a young woman swayed forward, face alive with excitement, alive with desire and with love, swayed towards an alien who was not Buzz, swayed towards it and followed it as it led her into one of the pillared alcoves. Zima felt nothing but surging excitement as the alien lifted the young woman onto a padded dais, as the alien’s hands caressed the woman.

Always with Buzz, he’d stood beside the massage table but now, as Zima watched, this alien who was the mirror image of Buzz eased itself up onto the padded dais over the young woman. Moved over her as a human male would love to mount a human female, a giant golden yellow insect-being humming with an infectious and irresistible excitement as its two short legs parted the woman’s. As two of its hands removed her panties while two more drew her legs back and the last two held her hands above her head.

Zima’s heart beat faster, her excitement grew as the alien’s golden-hued abdomen rose, curved. She watched as a long black tubular ovipositor extended slowly from the tip of the alien’s abdomen, seeking for and finding the woman’s now pinkly glistening sex. Zima’s own sex pulsed hotly with excitement as the tip of the ovipositor touched the woman’s sex, gently eased inwards as the woman arched her back and cried out with her excitement.

Half a hundred woman moaned in ecstatic empathy as they watched that tubular black ovipositor ease inwards, ease in and out, working its way into the young woman’s sex and Zima was one of those, her body pulsing heatedly with her own desire, her own need, her own longing for Buzz to take her and possess her as the young woman was being taken and possessed. The woman’s moans and cries of ecstatic excitement as she was mounted rose over the music, resonated with the music, resonated within Zima and held her spellbound, held her enthralled new waves of scent wafting through the air brought her excitement to a new level.

Around her, all around her, women were walking or dancing towards aliens, being led to alcoves, being mounted and mated in a wafting tide of pheromones, a washing flood of moans and cries of excitement merging with the humming music in a mating ritual that was old eons before humanity began to emerge as a distinct species. There was no reluctance, no resistance, only a willing eagerness that Zima shared as she watched and waiting, eager but not impatient, knowing from the music that her turn would come, that she would be part of the ritual, that Buzz would mate with her when it was time.
She sensed Buzz’s growing excitement, her eyes searched for him, recognized him in the alcove he had been standing before. He too was mating, mating with one of the women that he had brought, positioned above her, the woman’s black clad legs kicking at the air to either side of Buzz’s thorax as his abdomen moved, the solid shaft of his ovipositor easing in and out of the women’s sex as Zima watched.

Even as she watched, a second alien, larger than Buzz, joined them in the alcove and Buzz turned, turned onto his back so that the woman was over him and Zima’s heart pounded and beat as wildly as jungle drums as the second alien moved over the woman’s back, an ovipositor extended, eased delicately into the woman’s anal entrance, sliding in and in and in as the woman shuddered and cried out with excitement and it was an excitement that Zima shared, that she felt.

The woman was willing, eager and the humming song that rose and fell within the warehouse conveyed that willingness, that eagerness, shared it with all the women being taken and with all the women watching. Zima too felt that eagerness, felt that willingness within herself as she watched that second ovipositor swell, thicken, stretch the woman’s anal opening. She shared the alien’s desire and the woman’s need to give of herself as a swollen bubble passed down that tubular member, slowly worked its way into the woman’s anal passage as she jerked and shuddered and cried out with obvious excitement.

Another of those swollen bubbles, then another and another and now the second alien rose, Buzz turned the woman over beneath him. He too possessed her anal channel and this time Zima shared that humming bond with Buzz as his excitement rose, as his ovipositor thrust, as he experienced a culminating burst of excitement that his humming frenzy shared with Zima. The woman lay still beneath Buzz now, her face dazed as the second alien cupped her head with two hands, extended its proboscis to her mouth and to Zima it seemed that she drank something that the alien fed her.

Drank and drank until at last the alien’s hands released her and now it was Buzz that caressed her, Buzz that muzzled her with his proboscis until she gave a sharp cry, spasmed and lay still. Still, Zima watched, and now she saw the woman carried away by another alien, held easily in alien arms as another woman stepped forward eagerly to take her place in the ritual. Time seemed to stand still as Buzz mated with woman after woman, the same pattern repeated again and again as Zima watched, the humming song somehow maintaining her own excitement at a plateau that never relented, never relaxed, that held her enthralled and eagerly awaiting her turn.

All around her, woman after woman danced off the dance floor, danced towards the alien awaiting them, danced to the padded dais where they were to be mated. Mated and carried away to make room for the next. None of them displayed any hesitation, only a willing desire, an eagerness that Zima shared. She watched as the women were carried away and in the back of her mind there was the kernel of a question but the humming song banished any thought, prevented that kernel from seeding, held her enthralled and dancing with the others, fewer and fewer of them though there were.

Eagerness grew as woman after woman was carried from Buzz’s alcove and then, at last, Zima’s eagerness soared as Buzz finished and now, as he moved towards the edge of the dance floor, as he glanced around, as his glinting mult0faceted eyes somehow met and held hers, Zima knew it was she he wanted, she he was selecting, she who he had saved for last and now she stepped forward eagerly, willingly, offering herself up to Buzz.

“Come,” Buzz hummed as Zima’s excitement rose, two of his hands on her hips, two caressing her breasts, two cupping her cheeks as his face hair, soft and silky, scent of honey and spice, brushed her face. “Commmmme Zzzzzzima, it is your turn now. Your turn at last.”

Zima walked with him into the alcove that awaited them, walked willingly towards the padded dais on which she knew she would lie as the other woman, the ones before her, as each of them had lain.

“Dance for me, Zzzzzima,” Buzz hummed and the excitement of his hum was overlain with a sadness that Zima felt, a sadness that she felt to her heart, a sadness that she shared, knowing that in the morning she would be on-ship and they’d be leaving station, shipping out and Buzz would be in her past.

“Dance for me juzzzt a little more, my Zzzzima,” Buzz’s poignant hum echoed through her.

Zima turned. Zima smiled. Zima danced, the red and black dress swaying with her body’s undulations, Buzz’s head following her movements and somehow, in that humming that came from him, his arousal, his excitement, his feelings for her were conveyed. His need to mate with her, his desire, his longing for her to care for his children, his sadness at losing her, his caring for her.

“You do?” she breathed, knowing he could hear her over the music and the cries and sobs and moans and the occasional scream. “You care, your really do?”

“Yezzzzzz, Zzzzima,” Buzz hummed, “I do,” and his hum was both caring and happy with those overtones of sadness and loss. “I care for you, my Zzzzzima, you are zzzzzpecial to me, very zzzzpecial and I zzzhall mizz you, mizzz you very much.”

His hands held her, caressed her, gestured towards the padded dais. “And now, now it izzz your turn, Zzzzzima.”

Heart pounding, Zima breathed in that wave of Buzz’s scent, that addictive and faintly spicy smell that left her shivering with excitement as she moved towards the dais, closing her eyes, moaning with excitement as all six of his hands massaged and caressed her simultaneously, not massaging her now but teasing her, exposing and caressing her breasts, teasing her inner thighs with feather light brushes that brought a helpless flooding wetness there as he both teased her and removed her panties.

“Buzz,” Zima gasped, writhing helplessly under his hands. All of them. She struggled to remove the dress but Buzz’s hands stopped her.

“Zzzzzima,” Buzz hummed. “You muzzzzzt keep the drezzzz on. The coloorzzzz, the patternzzzz, they are important to uzzzzz for arouzzzzzal.” His humming was accompanied by the smooth emergence of a thick black tubular protuberance from tip of his abdomen. Seeing it, seeing its size and shape and having watching Buzz with that first woman, with all the other women, having watched the other alien’s with their women, Zima knew what this was for, knew what Buzz intended for her and her body responded.

“Like Ladybugzzzzz,” Buzz hummed, both eager and sad, “you are beautiful Ladybug, Zzzzima.” His hands guided her and lifted her onto the padded dais, lay her on her back and as he moved onto the dais and over her, Zima knew exactly what she needed to do. She parted her legs for Buzz as he knelt between them. Eagerly, willingly, she drew her knees back, opening herself for him, offering up her sex to him for his use as all those other women before her had opened themselves and offered themselves to him. Her hands sank themselves in the golden hair that covered his thorax, as soft and fine as silk, her fingers clutched at him, her eyes gazed up into those crystalline multi-faceted orbs as she waited, waited with breathless need and rising excitement to be taken. Made his.

Possessed.

Buzz’s abdomen flexed, curved in a bow, something brushed her sex, something large, rounded, hard. As hard as a human male would have been but bigger. Brushed and nudged and Zima’s eyes widened as two of his hands reached between their bodies, as his fingers found her sex, long fingertips brushed her labia apart, opened her as they’d opened her so many times over the last few evenings. Only this time they opened her sex in preparation to taking her.

“I muzzzzzt, Zzzzima, I muzzzzt,” Buzz crooned, his real voice a hum of ecstatic need and desire beneath the translator’s audio. A hum that resonated inside Zima, feeding her own excitement, feeding her desire, feeding her need to surrender herself to him.

“Yes,” Zima moaned, her back arching, her wet excitement flooding Buzz’s fingers. “Yes, Buzz.”

His fingers held her open, two hands held her legs now, back and widespread, so that she was opened to him. Willingly, eagerly open as the tip of his ovipositor nudged and pushed at her entrance.

“I muzzzzt uzzzze the gel,” Buzz hummed. Zima’s head turned with his, eyed the second alien who now stood beside them with a bowl of that translucent green gel that one of Buzz’s hands sough, scooped, applied to her sex, worked into her sex with those longer fingers. More and more gel until her sex was filled with it and somehow when he repositioned his ovipositor against her opening, she was open to him, wide open and he eased inside her.

“Ohhhhhhhhh,” Zima moaned, her moan as ecstatic as every other woman who Buzz had lain here with before her. “Ohhhhhhhh.” And it was, it was ecstasy, unadulterated ecstasy as that black tubular organ eased itself into her sex. Friction, delicious friction against her entrance, against the walls of her channel where Buzz moved inside her and his ovipositor filled her to perfection, stretching and touching her where she so needed to be stretched and touched.

“Ohhhhh … aahhhh … ohhhh …. Ahhhhh.” Exquisite slides in and out within her sex, each movement taking the tip of him higher inside her body, further and further, deeper and deeper, and Zima had no idea whether this was how Buzz’s species actually had sex but whatever it was, it was working for her as her hands clutched at his silk-covered thorax, her knees clasped the silk of his flexing abdomen, her feet beating a wild frenzy in the air above their bodies as that impossible organ impaled her to her depths.

“Ohhhhhh Jeeeeesus, Buzz, Buzz, yes … yes … yessssss…..” Zima’s back arched, eyes wide, her body a kaleidoscope of sensations as Buzz rode her, humming his own excitement, his own desire, his own need and her own excitement grew and grew.

His ovipositor thrust, slid, filled her with sensations as he filled her with his size, touching her everywhere inside, the tip of him gently caressing her cervix, holding her transfixed with pleasure, on the verge of a climax that was building and building and building towards something that Zima knew instinctively was going to be devastatingly good.

Buzz filled her, his hands held her, held her transfixed as he moved inside her, his hum becoming more and more frenzied, feeding her desire, feeding her need to surrender herself completely, feeding her need to allow him to do whatever he wished to her.

“Ohhhhh,” Zima moaned as Buzz rolled, rolled onto his back with her astride him, his ovipositor long and thick and hard inside her, his hands on her back, her shoulders, two of them caressing her butt.

“Our zzzpeciezzz finds its pleazzzzure in many wayzzzz,” Buzz said, moving inside her, his hands, all his hands, moving her on him, his silky hair soft against her body, cushioning her as she lay on him. His proboscis nuzzled her neck, caressed her neck, sending shivers of pleasure through her, drawing a long moan from deep inside her as he reached out, scooped more gel from the bowl and applied it to her anal entrance, that touch teasing a mini-climax from her that left her shaking and eager for the tidal wave she knew was building within her.

“However you want me, Buzz,” Zima moaned ecstatically.

“More gel,” Buzz hummed, but it wasn’t a question for Zima, it was a direction to the alien who stood beside them with the bowl. Zima watched him as he took what was to all appearances a large syringe, filled it with the gel and handed it to Buzz.

Buzz’s hum softened, became coaxing, relaxing and Zima found herself relaxing with that hum even as Buzz’s hands worked at her butt, fingers prying open her anal entrance, easing the tip of that syringe into her and then there was a slow glow as the gel was squeezed into her anal passage, more and more and more of it and she could feel it inside her now, feel it glowing, tingling, relaxing her and soothing her as it filled her.

Another application, another and Zima felt as if her anal passage was full of the gel, but it was a relaxing warm glowing fullness that had her wanting more. Had her wanting …

Something brushed her back, another alien, a different one and it was over her, its head above hers, looking down at Buzz and for a second Zima remembered every other woman who she’d seen being taken here, by Buzz, and by those other aliens. Always, always at the end there’d been two of them, the woman between them like this and there was a moment of fear before Buzz’s crooning hum banished doubt, brought instead eagerness, willingness, desire. A desire to give of herself, a desire to surrender herself and give life, a desire to serve Buzz as he desired.

“Izzz zzzhe ready, Buzz,” the alien behind her sang, a melodious hum that filled Zima with warmth and love, the scent of warm spring earth turned by the plow, the scent of blossoms and of growth and of sowing.

“Zzzhe izzz ready, Hive Queen,” Buzz hummed and his hum was one of desire and of love and caring and sadness and loss.

“Ohhhhh.” Zima’s eyes widened as something pushed delicately at her anal entrance.

“Zzzztill,” Buzz’s voice hissed sibiliantly in Zima’s ear. “Zzztill, Zzzzzima, zzzztill. Take thizzz for me, relaxxxxxx Zzzzzzima, relaaxxxxxx.” The hands and the silky hair and the bodies massaged her everywhere, everywhere as her anal entrance surrendered with slippery ease.

“Ohhhhh,” she sobbed as something small, smaller than a finger, pushed through her anal entrance although once inside, it seemed to both grow and burrow deeper in her ass, wriggling and sliding upwards inside her. Six pairs of hands held her body, massaged her, caressed her, touched her in ways she’d never experienced, flooding her with pleasure as that second ovipositor worked its way up inside her anal channel, a slender penetration that she took limply.

“Ohhhh.” It was weird, weird and strange but that musical hum relaxed her, held her enthralled, singing to her mind and her body as she was penetrated. It felt different from Buzz inside her, more flexible, even seeming to move, to caress the walls of her anal channel as it burrowed into her, the gel that she was filled with making her slippery inside, slippery where her sphincter muscle gripped that penetrating organ and sandwiched between the two silky bodies, Zima groaned in helpless surrender.

“Buzz,” the second alien hummed, “you muzzzzt, now, Buzz. Now.”

“Hive Queen.” Buzz’s hum was sad now, his proboscis brushing Zima’s neck and for a moment, just a moment, she wondered why.

“Ow,” she gasped at a faint pinprick on her neck and then doubt was gone, curiosity was gone, thought was gone in a wash of golden relaxation. Limp, eager acceptance filled her as she lay sandwiched between them, on the verge of ecstasy, wanting what was coming, longing for what was coming, knowing without doubt that she would get what she desired so much.

“You, Zima,” Buzz hummed, “you are mine.”

“Yes,” Zima sighed, half closing her eyes, inhaling that scent of summer, breathing it in, feeling her body absorb it. “Yes.” She was his, she was Buzz’s and the two organs filling her, transfixing her, impaling her, they held her in an ecstatic suspension of pleasure that went on and on and on.

“Uuuhhhh,” Zima gasped as the shaft inside her anal channel seemed to thicken.

“Nnnughhh.” It was thickening. Swelling. Expanding. Stretching her and she shuddered as she felt herself stretched. Then, groaning, “oohaaaahhhh,” as her sphincter muscle continued to be stretched and stretched and stretched some more, the shaft inside her anal channel swelling slowly, not moving, just expanding as Buzz continued to move within her vaginal channel, sliding, flexing, caressing, exciting, bringing her closer and closer to that tidal wave of culmination she desired so much.

“Uhhhhh,” Zima groaned, juddering as something bigger pushed at her sphincter muscle where she was already stretched enormously. Something inside the ovipositor that pushed at her there, something that stretched the ovipositor where it entered her anal channel. “Uughhhhhh.”

Her fingers clutched at Buzz, her eyes widened, her head reared back but her body, her body lay limp, relaxed, helplessly stretching as something pushed and pushed and pushed and she stretched. Her sphincter muscle stretched, opened slowly, painfully.

“Nnnnnnghhhhhh.” Her voice s strained whine, her body shaking at the onslaught.

“Relazzzzzz Zzzzzimmmaaaaa,” the alien on her back, in her ass, it hummed in her ear, it’s proboscis nuzzled her neck, a slight prick and Zima felt herself relaxing, the strain faded, her muscles relaxed and an elongated oval shape slowly worked through the tight embrace of her sphincter.

“Ohhhuughhh,” Zima groaned nonetheless, her ass stretched beyond comprehension as it pushed through a little at a time. “Ohhhughhh …. Ughhh … uhhhh … ughhhh.”

“Nuughhhhhhh.” A deep groan as the thickest part of that oval shape worked through her, stretched her anal channel inside her body as her sphincter muscle squeezed and compressed, forcing it higher inside her body.

Relief. It was almost relief to have that oval shape inside her instead of working its way in through her anal entrance. Zima buried her face in Buzz’s silk, clutching at him as his ovipositor continued to fuck her slowly while that shape moved inside the second ovipositor impaling her anal passage.

“Take, Zzzzzzima, take,” Buzz crooned in her ear, a soothing hum, waves of scent washing across her face, gentle hands massaging her butt as an elongated oval ball of something eased upwards inside her anal channel in a short, muscle-propelled movements that stretched her insides as it moved deeper. Higher inside her body. Impossibly high. Enormous.

“Take for me, Zzzzzzzima. Take.”

“Nnuuggghhhhh,” Zima grunted, her hands clutched at Buzz. Sandwiched between Buzz beneath her and the alien lying on her back, silky fur caressing her skin everywhere, despite being filled vaginally and anally, Zima sighed, her head resting on Buzz’s silky hair, her body limp, accepting, relaxed.

Strangely relaxed.

“Nnnnuggggghhh.” Somehow she wanted this, she wanted to do as Buzz asked. She wanted to take this for him.

“Almozzzzzzt,” the alien on her back hummed, “almozzzzzzzt …. Juzzzzzzt a little more Zzzzzzima… . it izzzzzzz … it izzzzzz thereaaahhhhhh.” The alien’s hum was orgasmic in its pleasure.

“Ughhhhhh,” Zima groaned, feeling that large oval emerge from the end of that tube deep inside her anal channel. Deep? Unbelievably deep and high.

“Uggghhhh.” So high up, impossibly high, impossibly large, as big as an oval baseball, it expanded a little as it was released inside her and if she hadn’t been so relaxed, it would have been impossible for her to take it. But she did. She took it. There was no choice. It was there.

“Thizzzzz may hurt for a zzzzecond, Zima,” Buzz hummed, his hands holding her tight. The second alien’s hands holding her tight. Pinned between them, both of them humming wildly.

“Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh.” Shooting stabbing pain inside her where the egg stretched her anal channel around it. “Nnnnaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh.” White red flashes of pain.

“Nnnuuaaahhhhh.” Her body shivered, trembled, shook, then relaxed as the stabbing pain was replaced by a sudden contentment, a glowing satisfaction, a desire to protect the egg she contained, because now she was aware that it was an egg and that her role was to cherish and protect that egg. The egg fed that message to her though her bloodstream, through the chemical signals transmitted through her intestinal walls and into her blood, fed to her brain below the power of conscious thought.
“Good Zzzzzzzima,” Buzz hummed, his hands holding her, caressing her, his warm summer-grass and honey scent filling her nostrils. Flooding her lungs. Relaxing her so that those trembling shivers subsided, the vanished, leaving her limp once more. “It izzzz implanted successfully, Hive Queen.”

“Gooood Zzzzzzima,” the Hive Queen hummed and Zima was acutely conscious of the oval thing inside her anal channel, but now it wasn’t something that concerned her, it just was. “Now, our Queen will give you another, Zzzzzzzima.”

“Ohhhhhhhh,” Zima moaned. Somehow Buzz’s silky hair massaged her labia where he entered her, her swollen clitoris, teasing her to a mini-orgasm as she felt that huge intrusion at her sphincter and she knew know that it was intended to push into her anal channel, felt that tubular organ within her ass throb, pulse, expand a second time. Golden waves of pleasure washed through her body as her sphincter stretched again, stretched almost impossibly as that intrusion throbbed inside her.

“Nnnnnnnggghhh.” She groaned through those waves of pleasure as another large oval contained within that intruding tube forced her sphincter muscles to expand further. Too much. It was too much.

“Nnnnuughhhhh,” she groaned, experiencing that expansion just as she had the first time, her body juddering as that oval thing was pushed slowly through her sphincter muscle.

“Uuuugghhhhhh.” Buzz’s hands massaged her, pulled at her, worked to open her for the oval shaped ball to pass inside her body and then she was groaning again.

“Nnnaaaaaaahhhhh… ughhhh … ugghhhh … ughhhh,” is it was worked higher and higher inside her in fitful surge. Expansion and contraction, small movements stretching her impossibly, that oval shape worked higher and higher inside her and all the time Buzz’s shaft inside her, moving, coaxing mini-climaxes from her again and again.

“ZZZZZZZZZZZ,” the second alien hummer with satisfaction as the second egg emerged into Zima’s body.

“Ohhhhh….. ohhhhhh … aaaaaahhhhh … mmaaaahhhhh … Nnnaaaaaahhhhhh,” Zima squealed, juddered, cried out, shook as her body accepted that second egg.

“Aaaaahhhhhh …aaaaahhhhhhhh.” The white flashes of pain weren’t quite so acute this time but still she was sweating and shaking by the time the egg had finished implanting itself.

“Again, Zzzzimmma,” Buzz hummed with contentment as a third egg began its journey down the ovipositor and into Zima’s anal channel. Her body took it, her body accepted that third egg, not willingly but acquiescing, accepting the pain, accepting the forced stretching as it was pushed into her, pushed in inside her. Her hands clutching at Buzz as the pain of implantation flashed through her, leaving her limp.

“Again, Zzzzimmma,” Buzz hummed. “For me, Zima. Take thizzz for me.” Zima took it. She took that fourth egg, shuddering, shaking.

“Full,” she groaned, “full.” And she was, her ass stuffed full with the Hive Queen’s eggs, filled and surrounded by that translucent gel that squelched from her as the Hive Queen’s ovipositor shrank within her, shrank and slowly eased out, but the eggs, they remained inside her.

“Now Zzzzzzima,” Buzz hummed, “Now it is my turn with you.”

His hands held her, he turned her, turned her onto her back, moving with her, his ovipositor deep in her vaginal channel, and then he was over her, brushing her but not crushing her, moving inside her. His body held still, his abdomen flexed, his black tubular ovipositor slid and thrust and eased in and out, the green gel and Zima’s wet excitement lubricating his movements so that they were fast and easy and her excitement crested suddenly in a wave of climatic pleasure that had her arching her back, crying out, sobbing, screaming.

In the midst of that climax, Buzz’s ovipositor brushed her cervix, something small and tendril like burrowed at her insides, burrowed in to her womb, explored, touched, coated the lining of her uterus with secretions, thickly sticky secretions, more and more of them. Only then did Buzz ejaculate, spurting his seed into Zima, filling her vaginal channel with his alien secretions.

Zima felt those bursts as his ovipositor pumped his secretions into her body. Experienced those pumping eruptions as that thick alien ovipositor deposited his alien seed within her vaginal channel, filling her to overflowing amidst Buzz’s humming bursts of pleasure and satisfaction. Zima too was satisfied. Satisfied that she had given Buzz his desire, given him what he had wanted so much.

Her body, to be used for his satisfaction.

“You have zzzeeeded her womb, Buzz?” the Hive Queen hummed her question, standing next to them, looking down.

“I have, Hive Queen, zzzhe hazzz been prepared,” Buzz answered.

“Then I will give her the Princezzzz Egg now, then you may finizzzh seeding my other eggzzz,” the Hive Queen hummed.

“You honor me greatly, Hive Queen,” Buzz hummed, easing his ovipositor from Zima’s sex, lifting himself from her, sliding back of the dais, leaving Zima lying sprawled on her back.

Without a pause, the Hive Queen moved up onto the dais and over Zima. “Hold her for me,” she hummed, “we have little time and there are more, many more to zzzervice thizzz night.”

Buzz and the other alien obeyed without question. Hands seized Zima from either side, pinned her arms, her shoulders, her body, gripped her ankles and her knees and spread her thighs wide, drew them back. The second alien implanted the nozzle of that syringe of gel in Zima’s sex, emptied it into her, squirting her full of cool green translucency.

The Hive Queen moved up and over Zima, her huge crystalline eyes staring down into Zima’s as she hummed her own desire, her satisfaction, her happiness with Zima as the tip of her ovipositor found Zima’s sex. That initial touch and already Zima was wide open, wet, dripping with her own excitement and that gel, open and excited and wanting.

“Ohhhhhhhhh.” She groaned helplessly as the Hive Queen’s ovipositor eased inwards, not taking the time to pleasure and excite her as Buzz had, only taking. Pushing inwards, a slender flexible tube that penetrated deeper and deeper, penetrated easily, almost burrowing within her as Zima’s back arched, as she moaned and shuddered at the alien invasion of her body that wasn’t Buzz.

“For me, Zzzzimmmma,” Buzz hummed, “take thizzz for me…”

“Ahhhhhh.” Zima took it. “Aaaahhhhh.” She took the Hive Queen’s ovipositor all the way. Took it until she felt something brushing her cervix high inside her. Brush, then tendrils burrowed, teased, eased into her uterus, brushing her inside surfaces.

“It comezzzz,” the Hive Queen hummed. “The princeezzzz egg, it comezzzz,” and her ovipositor expanded within Zima’s vaginal channel. Expanded until it pushed gently against her vaginal walls, large there, larger than Buzz had been. Thicker. “Relax her, Buzz.”

Buzz leaned forward, his scent flooded Zima’s senses, her mind relaxed, her body relaxed even as the ovipositor within her body expanded, pulsed, expanded, stretching her, pushing outwards against her walls, opening her. It hurt, but it was a distant hurt, remote, unimportant, almost welcome but still Zima shuddered when she raised her head to look down and saw that thick intrusion entering her sex, an intrusion that was now as thick as her forearm and still it pulsed an throbbed and expanded where it entered her.

“It comezzzz,” the Hive Queen hummed. “The princeezzzz egg, it comezzzz,” and her ovipositor expanded around a bulging object that moved in throbbing starts towards the entrance to Zima’s sex. She watched, eyes wide as it surged closer, closer, the Hive Queen’s ovipositor shaping itself around that bulge and then it brushed up against her sex, paused and how could it possibly fit?

How?

“Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhh.” Zima bucked, shuddered, jerked against those restraining hands. She found out how it fitted. By stretching her entrance even more and now it had paused, the thickest circumference of that oval bulge stretching her wide around it.

“Nnnnaaaaahhhhhhhhhh,” Zima screamed, and her scream now was as wild as any of those she’d heard throughout the evening. Now she knew why they had screamed like that. “Nnnnnnnnnnaaaaaaggh.”

“Zzzzzorrrrry, Zzzzima,” Buzz hummed, “the Princezzzzz Egg neeedzzz the hormonezzzz your body generatezzzzz to initiate growth.”

“Aaaaahhhhhhh …. Aaahhhhhh ….ahhhhhhh…” Zima didn’t care. It fucking hurt and it was pushing higher and higher, now her vaginal channel was being stretched, stretched impossibly, stretched painfully, almost as if she was giving birth but inwards instead of outwards.

“Zzzzzimmmma,” the Hive Queen hummed, a deep musical resonating hum that filled Zima, enthralled her, held her, “take my egg, Zzzzzimaaaaa, take it for me…” and she exuded scent into Zima’s face. A rich honeyed intoxicating scent that left Zima’s mind reeling in a haze of glowing gold and silver and crystal reflected of multi-faceted eyes.

“Yes,” Zima moaned, weakly, dazedly. “Yes…” She took the egg. Groaning, sobbing, shuddering, her body took the egg within, took it all the way to her cervix. A sudden white stabbing pain deep within her body, a satisfied hum from the Hive Queen.

“Take this Princezzzzz Egg and hozzzt it well, Zzzzima,” the Hive Queen hummed.

“Nnnaaaaahhhhhhhh.” Zima shuddered as her womb opened to the Hive Queen’s ovipositor, as that long organ expanded within her, rippling against her walls.

“Nnnnughh …uuughhhh … nnnughhhhh.” Zima bucked, her back arched, legs kicking a little against the multiple hands holding her as the baseball sized oval emerged from the tip of the ovipositor to be deposited inside her waiting womb, lined and coated with Buzz’s secretions.

“Implanting will happen soon,” the Hive Queen hummed as Zima arched upwards. “Now Zzzzzzzina,” the Hive Queen hummed as she withdrew herself. “Now we muzzzzzzt feed you the jelly, the Royal Jelly that my children will need to grow within you. Buzz, we muzzzt hurry now, thizzz one is almozzzzt the lazzzzt.”

Zima moaned as the Queen leaned down, eased her proboscis towards her mouth. Touched her lips. The jelly that filled her mouth was rich, mouth wateringly rich, delicious, the most delicious food Zima had ever tasted and she swallowed greedily, swallowed mouthful after mouthful of jelly until she could swallow no more.

Her proboscis lifted then, a wordless hum to Buzz and she was gone, leaving Zima to Buzz.

“Zzzzzzzzzima,” he hummed with renewed eagerness, “relazzzzzzzz Zzzzzzzima,” and his hands were turning her, moving her to lie face down as two more hands teased her labia, her clitoris, while the last pair of hands held her hips. “Now we muzzzzzzt fertilizzzzzzzze the egggzzzzzz…”

Without a pause the tip of his ovipositor found her anal entrance, probed, slipped inwards, easing in and out with a slippery slimness that assuaged the memory of the Queen’s ovipositor stretching her there, his long black shaft sliding delicately into her anal passage.

“Ohhhhhhh, Zzzzzima,” Buzz hummed, his hum gaining intensity. “Take thizzzz for me, Zzzzima.” Buzz’s shaft throbbed hotly within Zima’s anal channel, pulsed where her sphincter muscle clasped him. Pulsed and throbbed and pumped his secretions into her anal channel, filling her, flooding her around the eggs already implanted there. Buzz’s hum of satisfaction filled Zima with happiness, his fingers on her clitoris flooded her with excitement and with pleasure and as she experienced his first spurting emission pass through his ovipositor where her sphincter gripped him, Zima climaxed, bucking and sobbing with her pleasure beneath Buzz as he pumped her ass full to overflowing with his foaming stickiness.

“I hope you enjoyed thizzz Halloween Party, Zima,” Buzz hummed gently a long time later, after she’d regained her breath. After she’d stopped sobbing and crying out as she writhed in unimaginable pleasure. His hum was a warm happy hum, a summertime hum, bee’s in the sunlight on a summer afternoon, a hive full of honey, a Hive Queen laying multitudes of eggs, satisfied, the Hive reproducing and all was well. All was well.

“Yes,” Zima sighed, resting her head on the padded dais, enjoying Buzz’s weight on her back, his silky hair caressing her skin. Even enjoying his ovipositor impaling her butt. God, that was different.

“It was … different. I’ve never been to a Halloween Party before,” she breathed, her eyes half closing despite the weird fullness within her body that she knew she should be stressing over. Eggs? The alien had laid eggs inside her?

She shouldn’t be lying here with Buzz humming in her ear, she should be heading straight to the nearest med station to get those eggs remo…”aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh,” she screamed suddenly, bucking as a jolt of pain shot through her. “Aaaaaahhhhhh.”

Panicking until a wave of Buzz’s scent washed across her nostrils and she’d sucked in that gasp of air. Why’d she screamed? Why had she even thought of removing those eggs? They were Buzz’s and he’d given them to her. Given them to her to host and it was natural for her to host them. There was nothing strange about that and at the thought, a wave of reassurance and warmth washed through her.

“It izzzz the natural way, Zima, it izzz natural for you to hozzzt our eggzzz,” Buzz hummed, his proboscis brushing her neck, pricking her neck. That glow that followed, she forgot her panic, forgot that pinprick, relaxed, smiling contentedly. “Birth follows death, death follows birth, for all species the cycle is the same and now you carry my children for me.”

“Am I really going to have your children, Buzz?” Zima felt those eggs within her body, that large egg in her womb, the smaller ones in her ass. “How will I bring them up?” It seemed a little weird but in that contented glow, Zima knew she would do her best for Buzz. Do her best to bring up his children, be a mother to them.

“You are, Zzzzima,” Buzz hummed. “You will hozzzt my children for me. It izz an honor and a privilege to hozzzt the children of the Hive but there izzz no need for you to bring them up. No need for you to worry about that. Your rezzzponzzzibility endzzz with birth.” For a moment his hum was sad again.

Zima knew that what he said was true, Buzz’s hum radiated sincerity and truth and she was honored. She knew she was honored and privileged and she smiled.

“I’ll do my best, Buzz,” she murmured. “But why the party? Why the funny dresses and things?”

“Human Halloween Cuzzztom izz a zzztrange one,” Buzz hummed, musing. “But thizzz party, it meetzzz our zzpeciezz needzz for reproduction. The drezzz, like a ladybug, you zaaaid?”

“Yes,” Zima smiled at the memory, hundreds of girls looking like ladybugs. There was something? Something about ladybugs in the back of her mind.

That hum was almost laughter. “Trick or Treat, that izzz good, we give hozzztzzz treat firzzzt, then the trick. Win win azzz humanzzz zzay.”

“Trick or Treat?” Zima asked almost absently.

“Treat izzz zzzexx act, Zima,” Buzz hummed. “Zzexx with me izzz good, no?”

“Sex is very good, yes,” Zima purred. God, if sex with men had been this good, she’d have been doing it every spare hour she was off. Kind of like Wong did. Maybe she should jump ship, stay here with Buzz. Weird to think sex with an alien bee or whatever was that crazily good. Eggs up her ass or no eggs.

“Zeeee,” buzz hummed. “Treat. Halloween Party Treat.”

“What’s the trick, then?” Zima asked a little sleepily. She’d have to get back to the ship soon.

“Trick?” Buzz’s laughter hummed. “Are you happy now, Zzzzzima,” Buzz hummed. “Happy to hozzzt my children for me.”

“Ohhhh, Buzz, I’ve never been happier,” Zima breathed, burying her face in his silky hair, breathing in that intoxicating scent, reveling now in the strange fullness with her body. Within her anal channel and her womb, both. Strangeness, but in her happiness there was no doubt, no hesitation, no fear. This was everything she wanted. Fulfillment, satisfaction, to know that she would bring Buzz’s children into this world.

“Good,” Buzz hummed, both happy and sad. “Good, Zzzzima, that izzzz good to know. For uzzzz, it izzzz alwayzzz a zzzzadnezzzz. A hozzzzt is cherizzzhed and treazzzzured and lozzzzzt. It izzz the zzzadnezzzz of natural childbirth for uzzzzzz and I will mizzzz you Zzzzima, hozzzt mother of my children, becauzzze thizzz. Thizzz hozzzting, that izzz the trick and it izzz both a zzzadnezzz and a happinezz and a joy to uzzzz. I am glad you are happy at the end, Zzzzima.” His proboscis brushed the top of her head, a soft touch, a delicate touch, a loving caring touch.

Miss me? Happy at the end? Zima wasn’t sure what Buzz meant and then white fire exploded inside her head, a sudden agony that defied all description, a thousand white hot needles drilling through her brain, piercing her eyeballs, her skull, raw nerves where her teeth were, filling her with a pain that drove her to the edge of insanity in an instant, only to cease a millisecond later, a flood of reassuring warmth and a golden glow filling her in its place before she could even begin to scream and now only the memory of the pain was left.

The memory of the pain, but when she went to lift her head so that she could look into Buzz’s eyes once more, bury her face in his silky hair once more, her head wouldn’t move. Her eyes wouldn’t move. Nothing moved. When she went to move her mouth, to ask Buzz what was happening, her mouth wouldn’t move. Frozen.

She could feel Buzz’s hands caressing her, stroking her cupping her breasts, caressing her shoulders. She could feel his member within her anal channel, filling her thickly there as he lay on her. She could hear his soft hum in her ear, she could inhale and savor his scent, relaxing her even as she panicked at her inability to move.

“Relax, Zzzzzima,” Buzz hummed, another wave of scent flooding her nostrils. And Zima did relax, or at least, her mind did. Her body was already relaxed. “You are my hozzzzzt now, hozzzt of my eggzzzz, hozzzt of my children for me…hooozt of a princezzzz egg and the Hive Queen has done me honor, done you great honor …. bear them for me, Zima. Zzzoon you will feel them connect with you, zoon the eggzz will zeal themselvezzz to you, become one with you and you will love them and cherizzzzh them as a hozzzt mother zzhould. Zoon, Zzzzima, zoon.”

Buzz’s proboscis nuzzled at her neck, a faint prick, a flood of golden contentment. “Thank you, Zima, for doing thizzzz for me, for hozzzting my children. They will remember you alwayzzz azzz their zzhost mother, remember you and cherizzzhhh your memory and the taste of your flezzh, Zima, juzzt azz I remember and cherizzh my own hozzzt mother zo long ago. Now, now I muzzt attend to the next hozzzzzt.”

He lifted himself from her, withdrew himself gently from inside her, left her. Zima shuddered as the other alien turned her, lifted her, carried her away. Random sights cross her eyes. Another alien, a woman limp in his arms, like her. Two aliens possessing a woman the way she had been possessed.

A table surface beneath her, not padded. Cold steel on which she was placed. On which she was turned her onto her side. Terror flooded her as she saw the woman on the table beside her, back arching, mouth wide open in an agonized scream. Blood welling from her abdomen, silky-haired heads with large multi-faceted eyes, all now blood stained, chewing and clawing their way from a gaping hole where the woman’s ribs and belly had been. Hungry eyes. Soulless eyes. Looking at her and seeing food, but food was in front of them, food was surrounding them and inside her head, Zima shrieked as those heads disappeared inside the body.

She couldn’t see them anymore. But she could hear the chewing noises.

“Zzzhe zzhould not have zzeeen that.” Another alien’s humming voice. Another alien reappearing. “We believe in natural birth but we are not needlezzzly cruel,” that voice admonished the other alien. “Hozzztzzz zzzhould never zee the birthing procezzzz. Never, until it izzz their own time.”
But Zima had seen and the horror of it flooded her mind, pushed her to the very brink of insanity. The alien’s proboscis gently brushed Zima’s lips, a waft of his scent filled her nostrils, exuding calm, exuding happiness, banishing concern, banishing fear, banishing worry. Banishing the horror of that screaming dead woman as the things chewed and clawed their way out of her now still body.

“Relax, Zzzzzima,” the alien crooned, “relax now, hozzzzt mother of Buzz’s children. Carry them for him to zzzafety, give birth to them for him, Zzzzzima. He zzzzhal think of you, he zzzhall remember you, feed the children well for him.” The crooning hum of his voice and that wafting scent reinforced his words. Within her head, Zima smiled as the horror dissipated, even though her face remained frozen. She waited, patiently, relaxed in the knowledge that this was for Buzz.

“He picked you for thizzzz, Zima,” the alien hummed. “Buzz picked you for one of his hozzzzt motherzzzz. You, Zima.” He breathed into Zima’s nostrils, his proboscis pricked her neck, warmth and a golden glow flooded through her.

She knew. She was doing this for Buzz. For Buzz’s children. She was meant to be their host mother. Protecting then, cherishing them within her body. Feeding them as they grew. This was her role in life. This was everything for her now. Her life. Dedicated to Buzz’s children. For the rest of her life.

Zima was content.

The alien looked up. “Drezz her in her coveringzz and put her out in the corridorzz,” he instructed two of the others. “Zzpray her with the zzedative. Zztation Zzecurity will return her to her zzhip for uzz.”

He vanished from her sight. She smelt spray, then …. Blackness.

* * * * * *

“Where the hell is Zima,” Wong asked over the com, standing on the dock by the entrance to the access tube. “Custom’s won’t clear us until she’s signed back on board. Said they’ve had too many spacers jumping ship over the last few weeks.”

“Fredricks is online with Station,” the Captain’s voice crackled back. “Got no choice here, they’re refusing undocking until she’s onboard. Anyhow, not leaving without her. She’s crew.”

“Station Police are bringing her in,” Fredricks reported back fifteen minutes later. “She was in the cells, found her wandering around. Drugs, they said. I paid the fine.”

“Not like her,” Wong shrugged. Until it happened. Spacers.

When they cut loose, they cut loose. God knows she did. She smiled at the memory. Those three guys. She’d showed them it wasn’t just Nockatunga girls that could tuck their feet behind their ears. She’d shown them a few other things too. God, those three, they’d been good. Weeks and months shipboard in the same confined space with the same people, it did that to you. That and jump space, you had to let off steam and she had and she felt great. She guessed Zima must’ve felt the same way, just, she’d overdone it a bit. Always the way when you locked it up inside the way Zima did. She’d learn.

“Sealing cargo access now,” the Captain said. “Get her onboard as soon as they drop her, we’re close to missing our window. Soon as the hatch is dogged, we’re undocking. Tugs are standing by.”

“Here she is.” Wong could see the Station Police shuttle coming through the loading bay access hatch. She didn’t look good, Station Security had to drag her out of the back of the shuttle. “Fuck, she’s a zombie, somebody come and give me a hand here.”

Wong tried, but Zima was deadweight and she was bigger than Wong. Zhu came down the tube, between them they got her into the lock. Dogged the hatch. Reported to the bridge.

“Hellraiser cleared for undocking,” Station responded.

Docking Control took over from there. Hellraiser was on her way.

“Strap her into her bunk, Wong,” First said as the tugs moved them out. “She can sleep it off. Need everyone at their stations. Roget, you’re on Nav.”

“Kay,” Roget responded, switching stations.

* * *

“What’s wrong with her?” Zhu asked Wong as they dragged Zima up ship to her bunk.

“Fucked if I know,” Wong said. “Fredricks said Security said drugs.”

They both looked down at Zima as they laid her down on her bunk, strapped her in. “She looks like a frigging zombie.”

Zima could see them through a fog. She could hear them through a haze. Her mind screamed for her mouth to work, to say something. Anything. Nothing happened. Her mind struggled weakly through that fog but her body was no longer hers. Even her eyes were frozen, staring up at the ceiling unmovingly as Wong and Zhu left her. Inside her head, calmness fading slowly through the relaxing glow that still held her mind in a haze, Zima began to experience fear. What was happening to her? But she knew, she knew, she was beginning to remember now what she’d done, what had been done to her, what she’d seen in that Halloween Party from Hell and that was even worse.

Because now she knew what was happening inside her body.

She knew there was absolutely nothing she could do.

Host. That was what Buzz had said. Host.

She was host to Buzz’s babies.

Something moved inside.

It felt strangely good.

Zima whimpered.

In her head.

Unheard.
* * *

Clang-thunk! The access tube unlocked. Crash! Nockatunga Station grapples let go, withdrew from the ship. All that held Hellraiser to the Station now were their own mooring grapples clamped to the docking boom. A green light on the board. A voice. Nockatunga accented.

“Arvo mate, you buggers ’re looking ripper for nicking off.”

“What?” The Captain and Fredricks looked at each other. “Repeat please,” the Captain said.

“No worries, mate,” the voice said. ”Ya pommie ratbags’re cleared to fuck off outa here.”

“Does that mean we’re cleared for departure?” the Captain asked, exuding patience.

“No dramas, mate,” the voice said. “Bloody oath. Course you’re cleared, wouldn’t be here playing silly buggers with ya if ya weren’t. Now will ‘ya stop playing around and fuck off. Got another one wants to fuck off outa here right after you drongo’s. Tell ya mate, I’m flat out like a lizard drinking right now, half the fucking sheila’s on the shift haven’t shown up. Bloody bunch of skiving ratbags.”

“Ahh, yes,” the Captain said, shaking his head.

First laughed. “Releasing Hellraiser grapples,” he said, flicking the switches. That Keagan, she’d banged like a dunny door alright. All frigging week. He could hardly walk. Feet behind her ears hadn’t been the half of it. He’d have to look her up next time they came through. Man could settled down on a place like Nockatunga if all the sheila’s were like Keagan. Fuck, yeah! Worth thinking about.

“Docking Control, this is Hellraiser. We’re all yours,” the Captain said.

“Righto Hellraiser, Docking Control has you. Moving you out now.” A slight jar. External displays showed Hellraiser separated from Station.

“Power up,” Scotty came over the com. Main engines began to hum, a hum that travelled through the ship. It’d be another half hour before they were far enough from the station to move under the main engines but better safe than sorry.

“Condition nominal,” First said, running through ship checks.

“System schematics on main display,” Roget said. The usual departure routine now, except Roget was filling in for Zima on Nav.

* * *

“Engines nominal,” Scotty reported. “Thrust at fifty percent, everything’s green.”

“Passing Marker One,” Roget was tracking Hellraiser’s position.

“Thrust to sixty percent,” the Captain said.

“Thrust to sixty percent, aye,” Scotty came back moments later.

“Coms,” the Captain said. “Send. Hellraiser departing system. Tell them thanks for the party.” He waited for Fredricks to send. “Anyone checked on Zima?”

“She was out,” Wong said. “Strapped her into her bunk. Let her sleep it off. She’ll have the hangover from hell when she wakes up.” She laughed. “Must’ve been some party she had.”

“Serves her right,” the Captain said. “She should know better than that. Call me if there’s anything, First.”

“Will do, Captain.”

* * *

The lightspeed flare of an incoming jump-ship flashed on the displays. Alarms howled on Hellraiser’s bridge. Proximity alarms. Collision alarms.

“She’s not dumping,” First hit the high grav maneuvers alarm. Locked down his crash chair fast and then the wave front hit them and he knew the incoming jump ship wasn’t far behind because he hadn’t detected any dumps yet and he should’ve, almost right away. He hadn’t? Fuck!

Fuck, indeed. He hit the red button. Klaxons’ blared. Fuck all use but you did what you could. Shut the vanes down, cut power, boost shielding, secure all hatches, lock down everything that could be locked down.

“Ship, this is First. Out of control jump ship incoming from jump point. Lock it down everyone.” Which meant if you were taking a crap and you were half done, you didn’t wait. You dived for the nearest crash pad, strapped in, and cleaned up your shit afterwards. Either that or you got cleaned up afterwards if something had gone wrong. Didn’t matter whose fault it was. Space was merciless.

The incoming ship passed them at close to light speed, enough C that even in the emptiness of space, Hellraiser felt it, shuddering at the blast and god alone knew what damage that did to her. By the time the displays showed what was happening it was history and Hellraiser still existed.

First lifted a shaking hand to the boards, hit the release. Alarms died. “Check ship for damage,” First said. “Captain to the bridge.” Not that he needed to say that. Captain’d be halfway here by now.

“Crazy frigging aliens,” the Captain snarled as the Hunter ship raced on in-system. “Station’s gonna go ballistic on them. We got an I.D?”

“Vvvvarp, that’s what systems is reporting.”

“Who the fuck are they?”

First shrugged. “No idea, never run into them before.” Not that that was unusual. The compact held a half a thousand different species, no-one was familiar with them all. Maybe a xeno specialist but Hellraiser was a jump-ship, a trader, not a frigging university specializing in alien studies.

* * *

“Natural childbirth advocates?” Chief of Station Security Peterson shrugged. “Don’t see anything wrong with that, sport. Nothing illegal about natural childbirth, not here anyhow.” He turned to Hanson, beside him. “Am I missing something, or is it the translation software again?”

“Dunno, boss,” Hanson said. “How about I get O’Connor in to work on it, he’s much better with the translation comp than I am.”

“Yeah, okay,” Peterson nodded. “You do that and take off, Hanson. Enjoy the date.”

“Will do, boss. And it’s a massage, not a date.”

“Whatever, Hanson.”

“Now, Apizzzzzz, sorry about this, we’re not getting a good translation here. Can we start again?”

“Izzzzzzz urgeeeeeent …. Emergenzzzzzzzy …” Hive Guardian(?) Apizzzz was buzzing wildly. “Egggzzzzzz … criminalzzzzzz eggzzzzzzz layzzzzzzz sentientzzzzzzz beingzzzzzz. Zzzzizzzz not permitted.”

“Yes yes yes, we got that,” Peterson said, very patiently. “We know that’s how you reproduce, sentient beings do that too, we know that, but where’s the problem here? Nothing wrong with laying eggs if that’s the way you do it.” He looked around. “Come on in O’Connor, can you recalibrate the translation comp, it’s not making much sense here.”

“Sure thing boss, won’t take long.”

* * *

Hanson tingled everywhere as Buzz’s hands massaged and stroked and worked her everywhere at once. She smiled blissfully, burying her face in his silky hair, lying on him, inhaling that warm summer scent. Buzz’s massages were better than sex. Sex with Buzz was better than anything and she knew he’d give her what she wanted. He seemed to know, his shaft throbbed within her, somehow he seemed to caress her sex without even touching her with his fingers.

“Ohhhhhh,” Hanson’s sigh morphed into a moan of pleasure. “Buzz, you’re amazing.” She smiled. “I wish I could have your babies….”

A wave of summer scented sunlight and fresh hay washed across her. “Some wishes can be granted,” Buzz hummed, his long tongue sliding across Hanson’s neck, tasting, feeling.

There?

Hanson felt a slight prick, then a warm lethargic pleasure. The presence of another alien behind her, above her, now that was no surprise to her, merely added pleasure as more hands caressed her, as fingers toyed with her sphincter, as Buzz’s shaft moved inside her, pleasure flooding her. As something small slid into her anal passage and burrowed higher, slowly expanding within her, a delicious double penetration that had her shivering with pleasure.

“Oh yezzzzz, Hanzzzzzon,” Buzz hummed, “your wish will be granted.”

“Uuughhhhhh,” Hanson jerked as her sphincter muscles began to be stretched. “Ughhhhhh.”

It was good, it was all good and she moaned and groaned and writhed in pleasure between Buzz and the Hive Queen as the first egg was laid within her body. There would be more, another half dozen and Hanson would take them all.

Buzz crooned in her ear as the Hive Queen laid that last egg, crooned as he turned her, inserted his own shaft in her anal channel, caressed and held her as he bathed the Hive Queen’s eggs in his own emissions, coating them and fertilizing them as his hands brought Hanson to one long orgasmic climax. At the peak of that climax, the Hive Queen entered Hanson’s sex, opening her, distending her, laying the penultimate egg, the princess egg, in Hanson’s now receptive womb.

A womb already flooded with Buzz’s emissions, prepared for what it was about to receive. Prepared for the princess egg. Larger than the others, Hanson dilated, dilated more, her eyes wide, face strained, writhing under the onslaught of Buzz’s hands, his silky hair and the flooding pheromones, writhing in pleasure as the Hive Queen gently worked the princess egg into the host’s receptive body.

“ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.” The Hive Queen hummed her pleasure as the egg was finally expelled, safe now within the host, crooning her satisfaction, her song resonating within Hanson’s mind, resonating with the pleasure Hanson was experiencing.

“Ooooohhhhh …ohhh … ohhh …ohhhh,” Hanson juddered through another mindless orgasmic climax, her sex spasming and convulsing on the alien’s ovipositor as it shrank rapidly, as it withdrew from her. Her womb spasmed and convulsed on the egg it now contained, those muscular contractions initiating the developmental process.

“Oh yezzzzz, Hanzzzzzon,” Buzz hummed, his proboscis searching for the spot on the alien skull where the sting must be inserted to reach the right spot in the brain. Precision was everything and the first injection of venom needed to be in exactly the right spot. “You will host my babies for me….”

White fire exploded inside Hanson’s head, overwhelming every synapse in her nervous system in one long eternity of mindless anguish and agony. It was gone as fast as it had arrived and now she felt nothing. Her eyes stared up at the compartment ceiling as her mind gibbered at her sudden inability to move. There was that full feeling within her body, an uncomfortable fullness. The Hive Queen looked down at her, those huge multi-faceted eyes reflecting images a thousand times.

“Good,” the Hive Queen hummed, “this host will be good for my last princess. The natural way is still the best for the Hive.” Two of her hands caressed Hanson’s now slightly distended belly. “Ship the host out immediately, we must move quickly, the Guardians hunt us, curzzzze them.”

The ceiling moved as Hanson was lifted, placed in a shipping container, secured, drips connected to her veins. Taped on. After what seemed to her to be an endless wait, another rack was added above her, another body placed inches above hers. Inside her head, Hanson screamed in terror. Another body, then another.

A face? One of the aliens peering down at them. At her. An approving buzz. “These hosts will serve the hive well. Ship them out now, before the Hive Guardianzzzz can find them.” The container’s top folded down, latched, locked. Hanson saw only darkness, heard only her own frantic screams, contained inside her head as the eggs were contained within her body.

* * *

“Yeah, this is the warehouse compartment those alien fuckers was leasing.” Zulu One Alpha tucked his comp into its pouch. “Let’s check it out, boys.”

“Station Security Inspection. Station Security Inspection. Coming in. Coming in.” The security override unlocked the compartment, Zulu One Charlie forced the hatch. Zulu One Bravo was first in. Zulu One Delta followed him in, tucked right on his ass.

“Compartment empty.”

“Check the storage compartment through back there.”

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck is this? What the fuck are those?”

“Fuck me dead, spray the fuckers, come on move it move it move it…”

“Bodies. We have bodies. Paramedics …. Paramedics …. This is Zulu One Alpha, we have a medical emergency, I repeat medical emergency…. Jesus … jesus .., aaaahhhhhh …aahhhhhh get them off me … gettehoffgetthemoff … ahhhhhaaahhhhahhhhhhh.”

“Zulu One, Zulu One, sitrep. Give me a sitrep.”

“The sprays not working … Jesus, they’ve swarmed him … get the fuck outa here … declaring Code Red Code Red Code Redaaaahhhhh fuck they’re fucking bugs …giant fucking alien wasps …. aaahhhhhaahhhhhhthey got me they got me spray them …aaaahhhhhh aaaahhhhhhhh….”

“Spray’s not working … back off …back off .. use the flamers …flamethefuckersaaaahhhh .. aaaaahhhhh…aaahhhhhhh.”

“Station Alert, Station Alert, Security Team Down, Security Team Down, Bug infestation, Section Three Alpha Delta Four Zero. Locking down Section Three Alpha Delta Four Zero. Locking down Section Three Alpha Delta Four Zero, Code Red. Code Red. Biological Emergency on Station. Biological Emergency on Station. Code Red. Code Red. All units respond. All units respond. Code Red. Code Red…”

* * *

“On the mark,” Roget reported, sitting in on Nav. Filling in at Zima’s usual seat.

“Maximum boost,” the Captain said. “Maximum boost reached.” He stretched. Checked the displays. Took a lot longer boosting up to jump speed than it did to lose that velocity coming in. Four more days of this before they could translate out, boosting all the way.

“All boards Green,” Engineering reported. “Systems nominal.”

The Captain stretched again. “Alternate shifts on the boards, four on, four off. You have control, First.”

“I have control,” First said. “Port watch on duty. Starboard watch stand down.”

* * *

In her bunk, Zima was all too conscious now. She would have screamed if she could’ve. Inside her head, she did scream. Again and again. Inside her body, she could feel them, feel the eggs inside her, pressing against her insides where she hosted them, an uncomfortable pregnant fullness within her anal passage and within her uterus. One of them had already hatched, she’d felt it, felt it emerge from the egg, felt it crawl higher inside her. She could feel it inside her now, moving. Gnawing at her. The venom held her, in stasis, frozen, unable to move a single muscle. Unable to move, but no longer numb.

The venom no longer anesthetized her completely.

There was pain. Not only pain, but also the knowledge of what was happening, the horror, the inability to move despite those shooting twinges, despite those little stabs of sudden agony. Not even her eyelids could flicker. Not even her eyes could move. Her heart beat slowly, regularly, her breathing was steady, both outside of her control now. Everything except her mind outside of her control.

Soon, soon the other eggs would hatch, the things inside her would grow, burst forth from her body as she’d seen them burst forth in that room in the Station. They’d burst out and then they’d devour her. Final moments of horror and of agony before they grew large enough to survive without her. She’d be dead by then. She hoped she’d be dead, because the pain was worse now. A lot worse. A further moment of horror as another of them moved. Emerging from the egg inside her, shattering the shell, sharp pain within her body as something clawed its way out.
Unheard by anyone except her own mind, Zima screamed as those tiny claws pricked her flesh. She screamed as the movements inside her body strengthened, grew more aggressive. She screamed as she experienced their first nibbling hunger. A hunger which would only grow as they fed, as they grew. Grew inside her body. Host? As the full awareness of her fate overwhelmed her, as the effects of the venom Buzz had sedated her with wore off, Zima screamed and she screamed and she screamed.

When the egg inside her womb began to vibrate and shudder intermittently, now joining those that remained unhatched within her anal channel, Zima’s unheard screams redoubled. For a very few short hours that would stretch all too soon into an endless eternity of anguished horror and pain such as her worst nightmares had never envisaged, for a few short hours as she gave birth to Buzz’s progeny, Zima would continue to scream.

In your head, no one but you can hear your screams.

And now she remembered the ladybugs fate.

Alone in her head, Zima would scream.

Alone, terrified and in agony.

For the rest of her life.

* * *

“Getting some sort of garbled message from Nockatunga through the beacon, First,” Fredricks said. “Something about alien parasites eating spacers alive from the inside.”

“That Halloween Party nonsense again,” First said. “Forget it. And send a message to Nockatunga Station lodging a complaint about that frigging alien coming in like that. Frigging traffic rules exist for a reason. One of you check on Zima before you come back on, make sure she’s okay.”

“I’ll do it,” Roget volunteered.

“Get some sleep first. Let Zima sleep it off,” the Captain said, standing. Wouldn’t be the first time one of the crew had come back the worse for wear. First time it’d happened with Zima though. He’d have to talk with her once she’d recovered. Goddamn it, he’d expected better of her. Station Halloween Party and getting laid was no excuse.

Silly bitch.

* * *

And a footnote from Chloe: First and foremost, this is an entry in the Literotica 2017 Halloween competition and I need your vote. So see that rating star down there? Yes? You do? Okay! Now go and pick one and hit it, whatever you think this story deserves. It’s on Literotica, it’s free for you to read but those few minutes of reading and enjoyment for you took me a long time to write and those rating stars are my only reward (she says, batting her eyelids soulfully at you, dear reader … that’s right … YOU) and I’d be soooooo very grateful if you hit one of those stars. Seriously, whatever you think it deserves as a story. Otherwise I’ll send Buzz after you. You really don’t want to meet Buzz… or, um. Maybe you do?

Second. Really, this is my first attempt at anything remotely smelling of Science Fiction (and yep, I love reading SF, I’ve just never had the temerity to try writing it coz it’s just so complex to do all that world building stuff) – and this story is obviously a bit derivative (hey, I’m sure we’ve all seen the movie and some of you may pick up one or two other sources for the ideas here), but I’d love to know what you think of this as a kind of first attempt. As for the sex, well, what can I say? I had to close my eyes and imagine alien inter-species(?) sex and make it as hot as I could imagine.

And then I looked up the alien insect-human girl sex artwork online and, well, my education definitely lacked breadth, that’s all I can say. When my Mom had that talk with me, she didn’t mention anything about sex with alien insects. Something EVERY Mom should talk to her teenage daughter about. I mean, condoms and STD’s and things like that are easy to explain but the pitfalls of sex with alien insects? Every girl should be warned about that. Eggs to start with. Not so keen on the eggs but what can you say … aliens … horror … you gotta have eggs …. LOL

Third, and as always, thank you all so much for reading and, I hope, enjoying, whether or not you give me a rating and/or even (gasp of excitement) … left a comment … You reading this story is the reason I wrote it! Writers love Readers! Go figure, we don’t just write this stuff for ourselves, we write it for you to read and enjoy (we hope). And thanks to all the other authors who entered stories in the 2017 Halloween Competition. It’s so much fun writing for these competitions knowing you’re all putting stories in as well, and what a weird, wonderful and exciting collection they are.

And lastly, a huge thanks to Laurel and Manu for providing us writers with a venue like LITEROTICA and these competitions to showcase our writing and for making the whole website so enjoyable for you readers and for us authors … hugs and thanks …. Chloe

* * * * * *
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