Hostage Brides of the Overlords Part 5: (Futuristic Sci Fi Erotica) (Hostage Bride of the Overlords)

by Jill Soffalot

  Clara wandered the halls, looking for Gretchen. "Gretchen? Gret?" she called, looking into open doorways. The other breeding women were beginning to emerge from the rooms, some in various states of undress.

  "Clara!"

  Gretchen appeared at the end of Clara's hall, and the two rushed together, hugging tightly.

  "What do you think's going on?" Gretchen asked as they began moving with the other women out of the breeding halls to the common areas of their ward.

  "I don't know," Clara said. "But I hope the bigs and the littles are getting their asses kicked."

  The women all froze as a deafening voice crackled through speakers located in the ceiling. They'd never heard the speakers used before, and the sudden sound was ominous and frightening.

  "Attention all breeding staff," came the voice. Clara recognized it immediately as belonging to Able Jones, the condescending jackass little who was responsible for her and all the other female breeding captives. "Go immediately to your sleeping rooms and remain there. There is no need for alarm. Go directly to your rooms and make no move until you are ordered. I repeat, go to your rooms and remain there."

  "Did you hear that?" Gretchen said as they walked along. "We're staff now. I thought we were prisoners."

  "Do you know what I'd like to do right now?" Clara said. "I'd like to go find Able Jones and hit him with something. Something really heavy."

  "Like a brick?" Gretchen asked, grinning.

  "Yes," Clara said. "Like a brick. Or anything else I can find."

  They were in the hallway where their sleeping rooms were located. The other women were drifting in from the other halls, going to their rooms and closing the doors. Gretchen looked at Clara. "You want to go find him, don't you?"

  "Jones? It might be more trouble than it's worth."

  Gretchen took her friend by the hand. "Clara, I need to tell you something. We're going to die in this place. They're never going to let us out, and even if they wanted to, there's nowhere for us to go. We'll never have a role here except as breeders, and that's no life. Getting fucked by these monsters and having their babies... look, you haven't had one of their babies yet. I've had two, and the pregnancy is horrible. Our bodies aren't designed to carry monster babies, but the littles don't care. We're as good as cattle here."

  Tears were welling in her eyes. Clara held her by hand. "I don't know what's going on," Gretchen went on, "but it seems like something major. And if there's something we can do to break the system here, I'm willing to try, even if it's just grabbing Able Jones and putting his head through a wall. I'm willing to try."

  Clara grabbed her friend and squeezed her tight. "Let's go then," she said. "I know the way. God knows I've been taken to his office enough times."

  "Let's go to the kitchen first," Gretchen said.

  "Why? You can't possibly be thinking about food."

  "Not food," Gretchen said. "Knives."

  ***

  The knives they found were not impressive. Since real meat was never served, there was no need for the kitchen to be equipped with large carving knives. They each took a small paring knife, with the blades covered by plastic sheaths. Thus armed, they began their journey, running softly down the halls. Doors everywhere were unlocked, and Clara wondered if some kind of master switch had been thrown, opening them all.

  The hallways in this part of the massive, sprawling complex had emptied out. The rumbling sounds continued rolling through the place, and the women flinched when the explosions sounded as though they were nearby.

  "It's this way," Clara said, and they turned off the long corridor, pausing to listen before opening the entrance to yet another hall. They could hear shouting, footsteps, and the low grunts of the bigs.

  "Through, or around?" Gretchen asked.

  "Through," Clara said. "Just look like you're supposed to be there."

  "I'm not supposed to be there," Gretchen said with a grin. "I'm supposed to be sitting in a pizza parlor three hundred years ago."

  Clara smiled and kissed her on the lips. "Let's go."

  They concealed the knives in their pockets and pushed the door open, strolling confidently into the wide hall. Groups of bigs were standing receiving directions from various littles. The violent sounds were closer here. Littles were running in and out of offices, shouting to each other. The two women could make no sense of the situation. No one took special notice of them as they strode along.

  "His office is ahead on the right," Clara said softly. When they reached the door, she tested it and found it unlocked. She opened it and stepped right in, allowed Gretchen to enter, and then closed it firmly.

  "What..." began a stunned Able Jones, but he was too surprised to finish. The little man, with his child-sized body and large head, with its balding pate and wrinkled face, did not know what to make of Clara and Gretchen's arrival. He was standing with another little. The two of them were looking down at outspread papers, which resembled schematics.

  "Hello, Able Jones," Clara said. "The whores have come to pay the pimp a visit."

  "You two should be in your rooms!" he snapped. "It isn't safe! We have a very dangerous situation on our hands."

  "It isn't safe getting fucked by giant monsters every night," Gretchen said. "And it isn't safe trying to have monster babies either."

  "I'm not interested in having this discussion with you, Gretchen," Jones replied. "I'll get some bigs to take you back to your rooms. You've both crossed too many lines by coming here."

  He reached for the intercom on his desk. Clara pulled the paring knife from her pocket and slipped it from the sheathe. She threw it at him, not trying to seriously injure him, but hoping to prevent him from using the intercom. The knife glanced off his skull, opening a cut, and the vicious little man stumbled back, putting his arms up to cover his face.

  Clara leaped up on top of his low, broad desk and kicked the small intercom device away. The other little held his hands up, a look of terror on his face.

  "They're fighting back!" he squealed. "Jones! You said you had them under control!"

  "I have got them under control," Jones replied, pressing his hand over the nasty cut on the crown of his head. Blood ran down his face. "These two are out of the ordinary."

  Clara jumped off the desk, aiming and landing directly on Jones, bringing him crashing to the floor. She landed on top of him, pinning him down with her knees.

  "You cunt!" he raged. "You cunt! I'll have them fuck you right in half! You'll die with a cock down your slut throat, you whore!"

  She brought her fist down hard on his face. He kept swearing and uttering his threats, and she kept hitting him until he went quiet. When she finally stopped, his face was a bloody pulp. Clara felt sick. Sick, but justified. She looked up at the other man.

  Gretchen stepped toward him with her knife out. "Who are you?" she asked, speaking softly.

  "My name is Ernest," he said in a shaking voice. "I'm Jones' overseer."

  "So you're responsible for us being here?" Clara said, wiping her bloody fist on Jones' white shirt. "You're responsible for us being breeding slaves?"

  "Not directly," Ernest said, still holding his hands up as though he were being robbed at gunpoint. "I'm kind of a middle manager. There are a lot of layers to the administration."

  There were more explosions, and shouts in the hall. "What's going on?" Gretchen asked.

  "The aliens are back," Ernest said. "They've come back to get their technology."

  "Jones said we beat the aliens," Clara said.

  Ernest looked down at his bloodied contemporary, then at Clara. "We wrecked some of their ships," he said, "and the rest of them left. We didn't exactly beat them. But it seems they're not to happy with what we did with their ships."

  Gretchen stepped closer, and he stepped back, backing himself up against the wall. He looked completely terrified. "So what do the aliens want? Their ships? I thought they were trying to wipe us out."

  Ernest bobbled his head back and forth nerv
ously. "That may have been somewhat of a misrepresentation of the facts. More accurately, and I admit this is my own interpretation of events, is that they came to help us, and we did not deal well with the idea of extraterrestrial interaction."

  "Meaning what, exactly?" Gretchen asked.

  "We tried to blow them up," he said, and then he shrugged. "Wouldn't you?"

  Clara and Gretchen exchanged a disgusted glance. "So what happens now?" Clara asked.

  The little man shook his head. "It looks like they're storming the place. They'll take what we stole from them, which includes the time travel equipment." He glanced nervously at them. "Looks like no more breeding partners."

  "You mean no more fucking sex slaves for your monsters," Clara snarled.

  The little man shrugged.

  "What happens to the normals that are already here?" Gretchen asked.

  "I don't know," he said. "I really don't."

  There was a pounding at the door. "Who is it?" Gretchen called.

  "It's Biggles! Open the fucking door! It's all going to shit!"

  Gretchen looked at Clara, and then opened the door. A little popped inside and looked around, taking in the two women and the pulp of Able Jones on the floor. He cleared his throat and began talking to Ernest. "They're wiping us out," he said, speaking rapidly. "Littles and bigs, they're just cutting us down. They're blowing through anything we put in their way. We're fucked this time! We're fucked!"

  A massive explosion rocked the hallway, knocking the little named Biggles off his feet. He scrambled back up and looked out into the doorway, looking toward the source of the explosion. "It's them! They're here!" he shrieked, and he dodged out into the hallway, heading in the opposite direction, attempting to flee.

  Gretchen slammed the door shut. They could hear the sounds of the battle: the roaring of the bigs, screams from the littles, and a pap-pap-pap-pap-pap sound until all the screams and cries ended. Then came the sounds of the doors bursting open, as the aliens cleared all the offices in the hall.

  The women looked at each other. "I guess this is it," Gretchen said.

  Clara shook her head. "Fucking aliens," she said. "I never would have guessed this is how I'd go."

  "Oh, fuck!" Ernest said, suddenly looking down at the front of his pants. He'd wet himself.

  Gretchen heard the approach of footsteps and backed away from the door. It was kicked open, and a tall, slender humanoid figure stepped inside. It was sheathed from head to toe in a suit a reflective armor, black, green and blue. The face was concealed behind a silver shield. The figure held a large, rifle-like weapon in its hands. It looked around at Jones, Ernest, and the two women. Then it raised its weapon.

  The first shot blew Able Jones apart. The second killed Ernest. The figure paused, regarded Clara and Gretchen, and then wandered back out into the hall to carry on with its grisly task.

  Clara and Gretchen looked at each other. "I wish I had a cigarette," Clara said.

  "You and me both."

  They stepped out into the hall. Several more of the alien figures were passing by. They looked at the women, but ultimately paid them no mind and continued hunting down the bigs and littles.

  After the wave of alien troops had passed by, a second wave arrived. These figure still wore suits that concealed their faces, but their suits looked less like armor, and they carried no weapons. One figure stopped in front of Clara and Gretchen. It was holding an object that Clara suspected to be some sort of handheld computer. It began to speak, rattling off a long string of unintelligible phrases until she identified the words "state language please."

  "English," Clara said.

  The figure manipulated the device in its hands, and then spoke in clunky English: "Hello. Be peaceful."

  "Um, thanks. Okay."

  "The big and small bad humans have committed serious crimes and are being eliminated. The presence of historical humans here was unexpected. Preliminary determination is that you are not responsible for your presence here, and therefore should not be eliminated."

  "That's swell," Clara replied dryly.

  "Yeah," Gretchen put in. "Thanks very much for not eliminating us."

  "This artificial environment will be eliminated," the figure went on. "Historical humans will be removed until such time that this planet's surface is liveable again."

  "Um, that's good," Clara said. "Do you have any idea how long that will take?"

  Again the creature manipulated the device. "Estimates suggest from eight hundred to one thousand revolutions around the sun. Excuse me. Years."

  "Shit," Gretchen said. "A thousand years. What do we do until then?"

  "Historical humans will be removed to a safe neutral world and given space in which to reproduce. Future generations can return to this planet when the atmosphere is suitable for habitation again."

  Clara laughed. "We're going to be breeders again."

  Gretchen shrugged. "With normal people this time though."

  A sudden rush went through Clara. This might mean she could be with Sean again. At least she could see him and see what happens.

  Chapter Two

  In the days to come, all the normal men and women were brought together, while every single one of the littles and bigs was eliminated. They never learned what happened to the children that the normal women delivered. It's possible that they were eliminated as well, on account of their big, subhuman fathers.

  The humans got to know the aliens, and learned their side of they story. The aliens explained that when they arrived on earth as peaceful representatives of an advanced interstellar society, they found humans already living underground, with the surface of the world ravaged by wildfires, soaring temperatures and nearly unbreathable air. What's more, mankind's divergence had already started, with the leadership class trending toward smaller stature, while the labor force was being genetically manipulated toward gargantuan physical properties, but lower brain capacity and a tendency toward obedience.

  The aliens offered help, but the suspicious littles, fearing tricks or betrayal, instead aimed at sabotaging the alien landing ships and capturing their technology.

  After taking sudden losses in ambush attacks, and with some of their ships disabled, the aliens withdrew to consider how to deal with this deceptive and untrustworthy species.

  Observing the humans from a distance, the aliens realized the littles were repurposing their ships' power drives to attempt time travel, which was forbidden under interstellar law. The aliens made their observations and gathered their evidence, which they presented to a broader council of alien intelligence. The decision was made: extermination for the littles and the bigs.

  The presence of pre-divergence humans was a surprise, but plans were quickly made to house them off-world until such time as earth would be properly habitable again. They were ushered onto shuttles and carried through space in a state of deep slumber to a distant world, where they were released to forge new lives for themselves under blue skies and among tall trees and wild grasses. They took what advice the aliens could offer and became settlers.

  Clara and Sean settled together. They had no particular skills in woodcraft or wilderness survival, but they quickly learned from some of the other humans, who had been taken from other times and places in human history where such skills were common. The human men and women, numbering about three hundred, began building their new society based on the principles of fairness, mutual help, and mutual understanding. And they very quickly began to breed, although this time the breeding was strictly voluntary.

  Gretchen found a partner, a musician from Berlin, who'd been taken from the year 2000. He was a good man, and they made a good pair. They built their crude home next to the one that Clara and Sean had built. Often the two women would send the men off by themselves for the day, so they could have private time together. These days would be spent in each other's arms, reminiscing about times that had been much worse, but when they had been able to provide one another with a measure of s
weet comfort and happiness. And that happiness continued in these newer, simpler times.

  ###

  The End.

  About the Author

  Jill Soffalot, get it? It's Jack Soffalot, only for chicks! Prim, prissy, high school biology teacher by day, filthy kink-pusher by night... Does life get any better than this? My students would NEVER in a million years think I even have sex, much less that I know way more about it than they do. HA!

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  About the Author