Karen vs Alien

by Loki Renard

  She looks up at me and purses her lips.

  “I am giving one star reviews to products and businesses I haven’t purchased or used.”

  “Why?”

  She gives a bare shouldered shrug. "It makes me feel good not to like things. Some people like things. They define themselves by what they enjoy. I know what I don't like.”

  "But you haven't used those things, and they’re not real anyway.”

  “Does something have to be real for me to not like it?”

  “I suppose not, but it's a waste of your time going around hating things that don’t exist. Everything is fake,” I remind her. “Except this. This is real. What is between you and me.”

  She looks me up and down, and I know she’s wondering if there is somewhere she can make a complaint. Except there’s not. This is the top of the food chain. Right here, where I’m standing, which I have suddenly noticed is under a picture of a kitten which seems to be dangling from a tree branch with the words “HANG IN THERE” printed beneath in one of those cheerful fonts.

  Karen

  “Everything can’t be fake. There have to be real worlds and planets out there.”

  I know there are real assholes inside the simulation. I’ve actually been making a few adjustments to some people I used to know. Tyank was right. You really can change literally anything in the simulation at will if you just have the right tools.

  “There are.” He walks over to me, his body so perfectly powerful I am distracted. I forget to cover the screen. It’s too late. He’s seen everything. Well, maybe not everything, but definitely enough.

  “What have you done, Karen?”

  “Nothing.”

  I am not a good liar.

  He jabs at the screen with a sharp finger. “Why does this say that this woman just went up several dress sizes?”

  “She called me fat once. Now she’s fat. But here’s the genius part. Everything she eats is going to taste like kale forever, but it’s going to have the calories of cake. You can really get down to some very fine tuned settings.”

  “Karen…” he growls the word. “These people believe they are living real lives. You cannot toy with them like that. It’s cruel and petty.”

  I am being lectured by a massive knife-based life form about cruelty. I'd point out the irony, but I just hit save on a host of little changes to my ex-husband’s genitalia. Long story short, Keith doesn’t have a dick anymore.

  At that moment, my office is invaded by one of the underlings.

  “Sir! Sir! The simulation is in chaos! People who stop in the street to talk to one another are being hit by falling anvils!”

  “Oh yes, that one," I say. “People need to learn not to block the sidewalk. There’s also an immediate financial penalty to anyone who tells anyone else to smile. Their bank accounts are immediately drained, and they’re reassigned to work in the simulated sewers.”

  "For saying the wrong thing?”

  "For saying a stupid thing.”

  “Karen, you can’t do this. For one, it will break the simulation, and for two, it breaks the illusion of free will and natural consequence, which is very important.”

  "They didn’t want free will,” I say. "This is what they wanted. To run back to their safe little world and forget about me. Why shouldn’t I have some fun with them?”

  Tyank

  "Because you're in a position of responsibility,” I lecture. I’m surprised at how easily lecturing comes to me now that I am in charge of a disobedient subordinate. As last hatched in my clutch, I was always the one in trouble, the one at the bottom of what humans might call the pecking order. Now Karen takes that place, and she just earned herself a very real punishment.

  “Stand up,” I order. “Lean over the desk.”

  “Why?”

  “You know why,” I growl. “You know exactly why.”

  “I do not. You let me do this.”

  "I told you to be careful with people. I explained that this was a position of great responsibility.”

  "You set me up,” she says.

  “Just because I gave you the keys to the car, doesn’t mean I gave you permission to drive it off a cliff. Bend over the desk now, Karen.”

  She pouts at me, her eyes narrowed, but I know she’s going to do as she’s told, because ultimately she has no choice.

  “You knew you weren't going to get away with this, didn't you?”

  “I knew I wouldn't get away with some of it," she admits. “But some of it you won't find.”

  “We would just revert to the last stable state,” I say. “The simulation is too important to allow it to be messed with. Besides…”

  “What do you mean you would…”

  “That interface doesn't actually connect to the simulation. This was a test. Suffice to say, you failed.”

  Her jaw drops. "Keith's dick didn't just fall off onto the toilet?”

  “It did not.”

  "What about the anvils? The murketeer said the anvils were real.”

  I allow myself a chuckle. “The murketeers do what I say, Karen."

  Karen

  I am furious.

  "You tricked me!"

  "Not a trick. A test, to see if you could be trusted. You can't be. You want revenge on the people in the simulation.”

  “Absolutely fucking right I do.”

  "Well you can't have it. They're prisoners, Karen. They’re nothing more than human pets. We have to look after them, not torture them in various ways.”

  “Well what's the point, then?”

  I have been enjoying my revenge since they gave me the office and gave me what I thought was access to the lives of thousands. I have never been so disappointed.

  “Bend over the desk, Karen.” He repeats the embarrassing order.

  I resist. I have been comfortable with my nudity until this moment, but suddenly I feel vulnerable. I have the feeling I'm in trouble. And not the kind of trouble that gets you thrown into the ocean hole for hot sex with an alien. The real kind of trouble for breaking protocol. The kind which comes with consequences which hurt.

  “But nobody was actually hurt.”

  “One person is going to be actually hurt," he growls.

  “But…”

  “Bend. Over. Karen.”

  Tyank

  She does as she is told, though she does it with a pout which is clearly designed to make me feel some kind of guilt. It will not be successful. I have no intention of letting Karen get away with taking advantage of our captive humans. I know she has baggage when it comes to many of them, and that her fiery spirit means she will wish to have her revenge. There is nothing I understand more than revenge. Scythkin thrive on it. She will not be allowed it.

  Karen takes the position reluctantly, looking over her shoulder at me, then turning away with an adorable blush. I knew I'd have to punish her. She's right. This was a set up. But just because it was a set up didn't mean that she had to fall into my trap.

  I stand over her, looking at her shapely ass and thighs from behind, thinking filthy thoughts about sinking my alien cock between her legs and feeling the heat of her human body bathing my member, but that will have to wait.

  "You came from the simulation because you needed to be punished," I remind her. “Instead, I fucked you, and promoted you, and now look at what you're doing. Taking advantage of your power. Very naughty girl.”

  I see she has a long wood tool on her desk. I believe it is known as a ruler. It will be perfect for what I have in mind. I pick it up in one hand and put my other hand on her lower back.

  Karen makes some whining comment, but I am not listening. I bring the ruler down across her bottom, making sure the flat of it catches both her cheeks in a single swat. A perfect thick pink line appears across both soft rounds immediately.

  “Ouch!” She tries to stand, but I keep her pressed in place. “That hurts!”

  “It is supposed to,” I tell her. “You were a bad girl and you know it. You do not inte
rfere with the simulation.”

  “You made me manager, dummy! It's literally my job now!”

  That earns her three hard swats of the ruler, loud cracking sounds filling the room as I punish her swiftly. I love her sass and spirit, but she needs to learn to channel it, and to take responsibility for her own actions.

  “Speak to me with respect. Behave yourself,” I tell her. “Management’s job is not to make people's lives harder. It’s to look after them.” I lay several hard swats in the wake of the others, lighting her bottom up with punitive interest and turning her pale cheeks a satisfying reddened hue. I looked this up in the human database, corporal punishment. The murketeers tell me that many humans find it pleasurable even though the intent of it is to hurt. I can see that there's some truth to that where Karen is concerned. I've barely started disciplining her and already there’s a gleam between her lower lips, a wetness which tells me she is lubricating in preparation for being mated.

  My mating appendage is painfully hard. It always is when I am around her. The woman is pure sex, and having her bent over is an impossible torture for me.

  “Bad girl,” I lecture, whipping the ruler against her cheeks one, two, three more times in quick succession before spreading her legs and pushing inside her with a single thrust. She envelops my cock with her hot, wet body and I sink into pure heaven, my body melting with hers as I ravage her, my hand on the back of her neck, keeping her pinned for me as I snarl and grunt my lustful discipline.

  Karen

  Holy fuck this is hot. This is one of the hottest things that has ever happened to me. My nude body is pressed flat against the hard wood desk, my ass still stinging from the rough application of the ruler. It was embarrassing, but then it was hot, and then he filled me all the way up and I stopped caring that he was spanking me like a little girl, because he’s taking me like the grown woman I am.

  Tyank fucks me until I drool, until my pussy aches, until I feel my cunt throbbing with every thrust of his rough cock. Maybe this is still supposed to be punishment. It is hard to tell when I am overcome with pleasure which makes my toes curl, my feet drum against the floor and my hips grind against the desk, the curved edge the perfect place to rub my clit.

  “Oh god... oh fuck… oh god…” I grunt and moan until he yanks his cock out of my pussy and slaps my bottom hard with the flat of his palm before pushing back inside me, stretching me all over again.

  “Ow!”

  My whimper only encourages him. He fucks me for a few more strokes before pulling out again and slapping me over and over, a half dozen slaps heating my cheeks and upper thighs before that thick flesh spears inside me again.

  “I’m still punishing you,” he growls. “I gave you a chance to be a good girl, Karen, and instead you took advantage of the opportunities you were given and took revenge on helpless people still trapped inside. Now you're helpless, aren't you…”

  He punctuates his words with a rough thrust and another hard slap. It is starting to hurt. I am starting to feel sorry again, not sorry for what I did. I’ll never feel sorry for that. I do, however, feel sorry for myself. This isn't fair. I’m being punished just for doing whatever I felt like doing, but all humans are entitled to do whatever they want, aren't they?

  The thick fingers swatting back and forth across my sore cheeks tell me otherwise. He holds me with one strong hand wrapped around my hair, lifting my head back as he fucks me to completion, until ragged orgasm takes us both in a clenching, thrusting, wailing cacophony.

  “Tell me you're sorry" he growls as I lie panting over the desk, my legs splayed, his juice dripping from my ravaged lips.

  I’m not sorry.

  “I’m not sorry!"

  “But I've done everything to make you sorry,” he says, sounding confused. "Why wouldn’t you be sorry? Have I not explained what you did wrong thoroughly enough? Do you not understand that we look after the people inside the simulation?”

  “Why!? Nobody ever looked after me!" I gasp the words, then burst into tears.

  Tyank gathers me up off the desk and into his arms, making soothing noises. I am so ashamed to have broken down. Here I am, sobbing like a baby because what I said was true. Nobody ever looked after me. Nobody in my life in the simulation even liked me. They all thought I was an insufferable bitch, and maybe they were right.

  “Shhh,” Tyank murmurs, kissing my forehead and rubbing my back. “I’m here to look after you, baby. I’ve got you.”

  The words are so human, if I close my eyes I can almost forget they’re coming out of a massive alien beast. Why is this the creature I most relate to? Was I ever truly human at all?

  “It’s not okay. It’s never been okay,” I sob, feeling incomparably sorry for myself. I know I could make this easier by just being ‘nice’, but it has been so long since I was nice that I think I've forgotten what it feels like.

  “I’m a monster,” I sob against the alien covered in blades.

  “No,” Tyank says. “I’m the monster. You're a deputy-monster at best.”

  My misery cannot withstand his warmth for long. He holds me tight and squeezes me and makes me feel like the most loved creature on this planet, or whatever it is. He is the one who made me cry. The one who punished me. But he is also the one making it so much better than it was before.

  “Everybody hates me. You’re going to hate me soon too.”

  “I’m not going to hate you ever. I’ll just spank you when you need it,” he says, squeezing me close. “You don’t scare me, Karen. I know you're a naughty girl.”

  He reaches down, rubbing my bottom and even my pussy, his seed being spread over my lower lips in a slow massaging motion. It is calming and it is soothing and it is also distracting enough to make me forget my misery. I do have Tyank now, and he has me. Maybe that makes up for a hundred and forty five years of being trapped in a simulation. Maybe it doesn’t.

  BEEEOWOOP!

  A high pitched sound echoes through the room.

  "What was that?"

  "That's my broodkin calling,” Tyank says. "Hold on.”

  Tyank

  I never actually remember my communicator. That's why I've had Krave’s feed put through the speakers across the entire architecture under the simulation. That way I can hear him whenever he gets in contact, which isn't often.

  “TYANK!”

  Krave calls my name from across several light years. With one of our brood stranded on ancient Earth, we are keeping in constant contact. Vulcan’s impulsive decision to try to save the planet was misguided and added further chaos to the fire. Is that the expression? Probably not. Thinking in human terms is becoming increasingly natural for me, but that doesn't mean I get it right.

  “Yes?”

  "We need someone to handle the Wild West. There’s a sheriff issue.”

  My responsibilities are supposed to be limited to the simulation, but ever since the original planet Earth went sixty different directions through space and time, my responsibilities have expanded. For the most part, we let the timesploded humans take care of their business themselves. There's usually no point interfering unless we absolutely have to.

  “You want me to get on a shuttle? That will leave nobody here…” I look over at Karen. No. I can't put her in charge of everything within days of her arrival down here. She’s not ready, if she will ever be. The murketeers are more afraid of her than they are of me, however. It’s something in their DNA which makes them freeze, deer in headlights before her glare.

  “Take care of it, Tyank.”

  Krave shuts his com unit off, leaving dead air and irritation.

  Karen gives me one of her piercing, knowing looks. “Who was that talking?”

  “Krave. He was first hatched among us. He likes to think he is in charge.”

  “Well if he is in charge, then where is he?”

  “He’s off with a woman he met in the simulation. Seven. They're rescuing…”

  “Seven!” She takes in a gasp of air. “That
little trollop? She’s all wacked out on the tacky backy, you know. She does every drug that gets onto the streets. She was lying about having a dog. I should have known something was up when I saw her with that monster. I met them you know. It was Krave who sent me down here. Ohhhh now I have a name… a name is power…" she is muttering to herself now, tapping a staccato tune on her keyboard.

  "What are you doing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Karen….”

  “I’m just repossessing her apartment.

  “For what purpose?”

  “Just to have done it.”

  “Karen, we just went over this…”

  "Maybe we’ll have to go over it again,” she grins. “Over the desk. I liked that part."

  She's a brat. She’s my brat.

  Suits

  Tyank

  We are in orbit around a planet like many other planets. It has green bits. Blue bits. Brown bits. That’s the general ideal configuration. Some planets have pink and purple bits, but they tend to be the kind where your face melts off if you breathe the atmosphere. Scythkin know to look for the universal trio: brown, green, blue.

  Karen has her face pressed right up against the glass as she peers down at the world below. There's not much to see from there. She could see more on the monitors, but she says she doesn't trust screens, only what her eyes tell her. I pointed out that her eyes saw screens, but she made what I think was a rude gesture.

  “I’m taking her down,” I say. “Standby for your first alien planet.”

  Karen

  “So this world…”

  “Was ripped out of 1800’s USA, transported across millions of time miles and dumped here. The humans mostly subsist on cabbages and slugs.”

  “Ugh.”

  “They don’t know any better.”

  “So this is a simulation?” I still don’t really get it.

  “Oh no. This is the result of the timesplosion. This is real. Everything happening down there actually happened. It’s not like the simulation. Those people down there, they’re living and dying the old fashioned way.”