by Lizzy Bequin
Their Human Vessel
Lizzy Bequin
Their Human Vessel
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events reside solely in the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual people, alive or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters are eighteen years of age or older.
© 2020, Lizzy Bequin. No portion of this work can be reproduced in any way without prior written consent from the author with the exception for a fair use excerpt for review and editorial purposes.
This title is for adults only. It contains explicit sex acts, adult themes, and material that some folks might find offensive. Please keep out of reach of children.
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Table of Contents
Newsletter
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
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CHAPTER 1
A voice spoke out of the darkness. A deep, masculine voice that rumbled through Corrie’s bones and seemed to vibrate straight into her center.
“You belong to us now, human,” the voice said. “We own you, and we will use you as we please.”
Corrie tensed and heated with anger at those words. Nobody owned her. She was no one’s possession. She was a free woman.
But it was impossible to get away from that voice.
At first, it seemed as though she was floating, levitating, drifting through a pitch black void with no sense of up or down. Corrie soon realized, however, that she was not floating but rather being borne along by huge and powerful hands. They were clutching her arms and her legs, supporting her wriggling body.
“You must understand,” the voice growled. “We need you, Corrie, just as you need us. You will be the one to save us.”
More hands were on her now. They seemed to be everywhere at once, roving over her naked body, lingering on the fleshier places, squeezing her breasts, pinching her erect nipples right up to the edge of pain, kneading the mounds of her butt. Corrie writhed and squirmed in their inescapable grasp, struggling to hold back the shameful, mewling sounds welling in her throat.
“Save you?” Corrie’s words came out breathlessly. “What do you mean?”
A hand delved between her thighs. Corrie tried to squeeze her legs shut, but inhumanly powerful hands pried her apart with ease. Searching fingers found her throbbing clitoris, strummed it, circled it, until her hips bucked with ungovernable pleasure and wetness oozed from her parting.
“You will be the Mother of the New World,” the rumbling voice spoke. “You will give birth to armies.”
Corrie was aware now that three pairs of predatory eyes were gazing at her hungrily amid the darkness. Eyes that glowed with an unearthly green lust.
“You will be the vessel for our seed.”
Something much bigger than a finger pressed between Corrie’s spread legs. It was the blunt, club-like head of a cock. The tip kissed her slippery entrance with hot, sticky precum.
Corrie whimpered and braced herself in anticipation of the oncoming thrust…
“Do you ever wish you could turn back time?”
A coldly pleasant feminine voice roused Corrie out of her dark dream. After a moment of disorientation, she remembered where she was—seated in the dimly lit cabin of a deep-space transport shuttle.
Corrie groaned uncomfortably in her padded seat and cracked one sleepy eye. The small monitor set into the seatback in front of her had come on automatically, and it was playing a Juvanis advertisement.
It was the same ad Corrie had seen a million times. She mentally recited the words along with the video.
“For centuries, mankind has been searching for the Fountain of Youth. At Galen Medical Group, we have created it—Juvanis.”
On the glowing screen, a set of shapely feminine fingers with perfectly manicured nails held up a small gel cap of Juvanis. The pill caught the light like a milky jewel. Next the fingers popped the pill inside a pair of equally shapely lips painted a sexy but tasteful shade of sangria red. Corrie couldn’t help wondering how many hours of marketing meetings had been required to finally decide on that specific color.
“Juvanis, the first and only anti-aging supplement that really works. Do you want to be young forever? Well, Juva—“
Corrie turned off the volume with an annoyed flick of her finger, which was far less elegant than the ones in the ad. She had specifically filed them down as part of her disguise.
With a groggy yawn, Corrie looked around the dim cabin of the interstellar transport shuttle. It was eerie. There were a hundred or so padded vinyl seats in rows of two on either side of the carpeted central aisle, and every single one of them was empty except hers.
Corrie was the only passenger on the ship.
She yawned and sat up straight, knuckling the sleep from her eyes while being careful not to mess up the carefully applied latex prosthetics disguising her face.
Already, the memory of her darkly erotic dream was fading. The stiffness in her nipples was gradually abating, but the wetness between her legs remained. It had absorbed into the fabric of her panties. She leaned forward to check the crotch of her loose slacks in the dim light, and she was relieved to see that it had not soaked all the way through at least.
“Christ,” Corrie huffed as she plopped back into the seat.
Where had that dream come from? It might have been induced by the stargate that this passenger spacecraft had traveled through to get here. Warp travel was known to have an effect on one’s mind, and Corrie had always been particularly susceptible to these effects.
But it wasn’t the first time she’d had that dream, or something similar to it. She couldn’t remember exactly when the dreams had begun, but it was at least a month prior. As a matter of fact, it must have been right around the time that she had convinced her editor, Perry, to let her travel here in pursuit of this news story.
The dull watery ache of a hangover throbbed behind her eyeballs. It was a small price to pay. The three miniature bottles of Ilithian vodka had done the trick, and Corrie had mercifully slept straight through the entire stargate passage. Being prone to warp-sickness, Corrie had always hated interstellar travel; the only remedy was to knock herself out with a few drinks before the craft entered the stargate and hope she stayed asleep until they came out the other side.
Now, thankfully, the ship was back in realspace and making its final approach to her destination.
But she was feeling the after-effects of the booze. Hopefully she could remain clear-headed enough to make her disguise work.
Corrie depressed a small button on the arm of her seat. A small, warm service light came on overhead accompanied by the cheerful sound of a chime. A few moments later, a shiny chrome service orb about the size of a beach ball hovered down the aisle and stopped beside Corrie’s seat.
“Greetings, passenger. How may I be of assistance?”
Corrie asked for a cup of water.
With its spindly,
mechanical arms, the orb droid produced a disposable paper cup from a compartment in its side and began filling it with a slow trickle of purified water.
After the droid had departed, Corrie slumped back into her seat, took a sip of the cool water, and turned toward the window.
Outside the small, oval porthole, the vast, dark, carbon-gray curvature of the planet hove into view, blotting out the stars.
A little ways off, rising from the planet’s surface, a leviathan cargo cruiser burdened with a full load of oblong astro-containers passed by. It was headed for the same stargate that Corrie’s shuttle had just exited. And all of those containers, Corrie knew, were filled to capacity with Juvanis.
How much was that single load of cargo worth? Five billion earth dollars? Ten billion?
The lights came up in the cabin, illuminating the rows of empty seats. Corrie squinted her bleary eyes against the new brightness and took another sip of water. She wished she had asked for some headache tablets as well. Corrie briefly considered calling the droid back, but another coldly professional female voice came over the intercom. The voice was remarkably similar to the one in the Juvanis ad. Same voice actress? Galen Medical Group did own and operate this shuttle after all.
“We are now entering the atmosphere of Terramara. Please make sure that all personal items are stowed and that your seatbacks and tray tables are in their upright and locked position.”
Corrie glanced around.
“Everybody got that?” she said wryly to the empty cabin.
Her voice was modulated by the small vocoder device concealed beneath the fabric of her turtleneck, making her words come out in a deep, masculine tone. The effect was a bit creepy. She still hadn’t gotten used to it.
The craft shuddered gently as it slipped into the atmospheric layer. The water in Corrie’s cup rippled faintly. The planetary surface was now filling the porthole. Thick patches of dark, agitated clouds churned and flickered with internal lightning. Underneath, the ground of the planet itself was even darker. Black deserts surrounded by craggy mountains veined with thin rivers of lava.
Green lava.
Corrie had read up on the planet before departing earth. She knew about the green lava—a side effect of certain chemical peculiarities in the planet’s core—but seeing it firsthand was still a bit of a shock. As the ship descended closer to the planet, she also saw that enormous crystalline growths, some of them as big as skyscrapers, were sprouting from the mountains.
God, what a desolate place. There were barely any signs of habitation down there aside from a single cargo road stitched with streetlamps and the blinking lights of a Juvanis factory.
That dirty, desolate wilderness below was a stark contrast to the pristine, air-conditioned comfort of the shuttle cabin. Just looking at it, one would never expect that Terramara was the sole source of the most valuable substance in the known universe.
Why the hell had Galen Medical chosen this place?
Corrie knocked back the last of her water, crumpled the waxy paper cup, and tossed it into the pouch of the seat in front of her. Then she leaned back and closed her eyes, pondering that very question. It was, after all, the whole reason she had come to this godforsaken shithole.
The truth was, Corrie needed this story, and she needed it bad.
Five short years ago, Corrie Pedersen had been the most respected investigative journalist in the galaxy. Her exposé of the Irulian sex trafficking industry had won her accolades, fame, and a small fortune to boot.
Oh yeah, and it had been for a good cause too.
But Corrie had rested on her laurels. She had spent too much time rubbing elbows at high class cocktail parties and not enough time in the trenches. She’d gotten rusty, and she’d gotten scooped by other reporters on some major stories. Now her star was declining, and if she didn’t land another whopper of a story soon, it could cost Corrie her job at the Solar Sentinel News Agency.
But this Juvanis story was just the ticket she needed.
Corrie glanced once more at the screen in the seatback in front of her. The ad was replaying on a loop. Greedy bastards. You couldn’t get away from Juvanis marketing these days. It seemed like everywhere you looked, you would see one of their ads—even here in their own transport shuttle.
Juvanis. The Fountain of Youth in pill form.
Ever since the drug had hit the market a few decades ago, it had been the hottest thing around. At first, it had been derided as snake oil, but it soon became apparent that the drug was the real deal. It didn’t just slow the aging process; it literally turned back time.
Juvanis removed wrinkles. It regrew hair. It even revived geriatric cocks.
But most important, Juvanis extended life by decades. Some users had actually lived into their one hundred and thirties, and others were expected to live even longer.
Juvanis worked so well, in fact, that most people seemed to overlook the evidence that Galen Group’s operation was not one hundred percent above board.
For one thing, there was the remote location of their production facilities here on Terramara. Galen Medical had purchased the planet outright decades earlier. Supposedly there was some secret ingredient that could only be found here in the soil of Terramara. The setup violated all kinds of galactic anti-trust laws. But even weirder was the well-known fact that they only hired men for their operation—no women allowed.
That policy was strictly illegal, but Galen was obviously making enough money to grease lawmakers’ palms and get them to look the other way.
And so, men and only men were allowed to come to Terramara.
That’s why Corrie was wearing her disguise.
The haircut hadn’t been too bad. Sure, Corrie had been a little bit nervous about trimming her long, dark-chocolate hair into a short style more befitting a man. But once it was done, it actually looked surprisingly chic.
The rest of the disguise, however, was a massive pain in the butt. First there was the uncomfortably tight girdle flattening her chest. Her breasts were modest to begin with, which certainly helped matters, but she still couldn’t wait to take the stupid thing off.
Then there were the other details of her disguise. Shoulder pads to give her a bit more manly width. Oversized shoes filled with padding and wedges for height. The vocoder device to deepen her voice.
But the worst was the latex mask that gave her face a masculine shape. Corrie had tapped an acquaintance in Hollywood for help constructing it. Several more weeks had been required to learn how to apply it by herself. The damn thing looked amazing. Every time she looked in a mirror, she jumped a little.
The problem was that the glue holding the mask in place itched like a mofo, but Corrie dared not scratch it for fear of messing it up.
Whatever. Any amount of suffering was worth it as long as she got her damn story.
She needed this story. Her whole career depended on it.
Corrie turned to the window once more. They were getting close now. Below, the Juvanis refining facility was getting nearer—a jumble of mostly windowless buildings bristling with towers of blinking chemical lights. The entire complex had taken on a dark, grimy hue from the windblown soot of the planet’s blue-black desert surface.
Off to one side was a broad, flat tarmac. Its surface was equally grimy. In addition to the ubiquitous dark dust, it was blasted with scorch marks from the propulsion engines of the shuttles and cargo freighters that had taken off and landed there previously. A few of the hulking freighters like the one she had seen departing a minute ago were taking up half of the landing space, and swarms of tiny figures were bustling about as gargantuan mechanical cranes loaded huge rectangular astro-containers into place.
The pilot of Corrie’s shuttle angled for an empty section on the other side.
That annoyingly cheerful female voice chimed out over the loudspeakers again.
“In preparation for landing, please make sure that your seatbelt is securely fastened.”
Corrie ignored this
automated advice. She shook her head at the absurdity of the nearly empty cabin of the shuttle. The reason she was the only passenger was because it was mid season. Usually new workers only went to and from Terramara twice a year in sixth month shifts.
Recently, however, a technician had been badly injured at this particular Juvanis production facility. Corrie had immediately jumped on the opportunity, using faked credentials to apply for the position.
It was her ticket inside the Juvanis industrial machine.
She was going to learn all of their secrets.
Assuming, of course, that nobody figured out her own secret first. She would soon find out if this elaborate disguise was going to be worth all the money she had spent on it, not to mention the discomfort.
The shuttle slowed masterfully, and came to rest on the tarmac with little more than a light thunk. Corrie was impressed. She would drink a toast to the pilot later.
For now, however, she had more pressing issues to worry about.
The moment of truth was approaching.
Outside the porthole window, the air was clouded with a mixture of white propulsion exhaust fumes and soot-black dust which obscured the view completely. As the cloud finally settled and dissipated, Corrie caught sight of a lone figure standing some distance away on the tarmac, looking expectantly at her shuttle. A tiny silhouette back-lit by the orange lights of the facility.
Much to Corrie’s surprise, the figure appeared to be wearing a cowboy hat.
CHAPTER 2
Standing before the exit hatch with her rolling carry-on by her side, Corrie snugged her respirator onto her head, sealing the cold rubber around her jaw while taking care not to mess up her disguise.
The atmosphere of Terramara was not completely inhospitable. A human could survive without a respirator for a couple of hours, and the short walk across the tarmac from the shuttle to the facility would only take a minute. Nevertheless, Corrie figured it was better to be safe than sorry, especially with her mild hangover.
“Welcome to Terramara,” the feminine voice sang over the shuttle intercom. “Please exit the craft in an orderly fashion.”
