Broken by the Alien: A Dark Sci-Fi Romance

by Loki Renard

  It is a stool with two… well… protrusions rising from the seat of it. He places me over it in my awkward all-too-wide standing stance. One of the hard ridges presses against my pussy, the other finds my bottom. The lubrication he spent so much time tormenting me while applying makes them both slide smoothly against my holes.

  I look at him and he smiles a dark smile, as if he knows something I still don’t.

  “Your punishment is to stand there.”

  “But…” I squirm as my legs start to ache. I am more or less in the first few inches of a squat. I won’t be able to hold it forever and when I can’t anymore…

  “You can stand there like that, or you can sink down and fill yourself,” he says, making my situation explicit. “The choice is yours.”

  This isn’t fair. That threatening probe is right outside my anus. If I sink onto it, I’ll be fucking my own ass and pussy for his amusement. But how long can I keep this position? Not as long as he can keep me in it, these thick bindings locking me in place. The only way to go is down. Down onto that thick probe.

  There’s a little part of my mind that suggests I just sit down. Spoil his fun. But that means impaling myself on the equivalent of two thick rubber cocks and I’ve never taken anything like that in my life. I can’t imagine how it will feel.

  Do I plead with him? Maybe, but I can’t imagine him taking pity on me now. Not after I have defied him. It wasn’t worth the pleasure I got doing it, that is for certain. It has only been a minute or two and already I am starting to physically weaken. He knows I am not at my full strength. He knows I will have to succumb. He is waiting there, watching me with an expression that I find difficult to read. When he composes himself, he could be thinking anything inside that powerful head of his.

  The pussy probe is the longer of the two, and as I begin to tire, it slides inside me, the thick rubber spreading my lips and then stretching my inner walls. I bob up a little to try to save myself, but the forces of gravity are working against me beneath his smirking gaze and my pussy is the first of their victims.

  The thick rod is not so terrible in itself. If it were just that to contend with, I would sit and let my pussy be filled. But now that I have given myself to the thick hardness in one hole, I have made the other one vulnerable. It is a game of chess with only two pieces and I am going to be forced to sacrifice them both.

  As the second probe brushes my anus, I pucker and start to whimper. “Please… Karlo… I’m sorry. Let me up. I won’t ever hit you again.”

  “The time for promises and apologies is past,” he says firmly.

  “At least…” I moan softly as my pussy clenches against the thick rod spreading my inner walls. “At least give me some kind of time limit. At least give me a chance…”

  He cocks his head to the side, the muscle in his cheek twitches at the idea and I know I have aroused his sporting instincts.

  “Ten minutes,” he says. “If you can resist for another ten minutes…”

  Ten minutes may as well be an eternity. My thighs are quivering and burning with lactic acid and I have only been in this position for about… what… five minutes so far? I really don’t know.

  * * *

  She is struggling so hard to preserve her bottom. It is perhaps a little cruel, because one way or another, I intend to take that tight little hole. Humans have but three fuckable orifices, and I will have her in each and every one of them. We have of course observed that women are usually reluctant to give up their bottoms. Some never have to. Well-behaved compliant breeding stock rarely face the punishments that this little rebel is now enduring.

  I can see the effort on her face, the strain in the muscles of her legs. She is bright pink all the way to her breasts, her nipples harder and more erect than I have ever seen them. She may not know it, but her body is thrilling to this treatment. The blush of shame on her face and across her cleavage only makes her more beautiful.

  That rear probe will not be far off now. Her pussy is dripping her juices down the shaft of the front probe and I am sure that if I were not here, she would grind herself on it. She is hungry to be mated. Her body cries out for it. Perhaps she would be better behaved if I simply threw her down and fucked her hungry little hole, but that is not the way I do things. She will earn her gratification through submission.

  A little whine tells me that she is losing the battle with the bottom probe. Her trembling legs are no longer able to support her as they did and she is definitely sliding down now. Her eyes widen adorably, her lips part, and a long cry of feminine response fills the air as finally she capitulates and lets her bottom spread around the probe.

  I should thank her for her disobedience. This is pure ecstasy to me. She is a stunning, rebellious, pouting little thing whose squirming body is emitting so many arousal signals my body is flooded with response. It is hard to stand here, watch her wriggling on the probes, not rush forward and grab her and take her for myself. She has a lesson to learn—and I must be patient. For my sake, and for hers.

  She slides down, little by little, fighting all the way until she can fight no more and after eight minutes, she is sitting on the stool, looking almost like a proper lady, if not for her lewdly spread legs, and the bindings that cross her naked body and hold her in readiness for me.

  The expression in her eyes is one of erotic defeat—not true submission. I don’t know if she’ll ever submit to me, and I don’t care. If she never follows a single order, this will be more than enough.

  “Ride them,” I command. “Fuck yourself for me.”

  * * *

  The lubricant made it possible for my ass to open up and take the probe, but it wasn’t a comfortable experience. I could feel my little hole stretching, that hard thing pushing further and further in. My anus tried to close, to shut it out, but it was too late. The invader had made its entry and I was helpless. It took me in slow inches until my burning bottom hole relaxed and now my ass and pussy are stretched so wide I can barely take it—and he wants me to give him a show.

  “Do you know how beautiful you are, sweating and moaning?” His smile is predatory as he takes his cock from his pants and holds it in his fist. He brushes the other hand through my hair and pushes his cock toward my lips. I open without being told to, without so much as thinking. My body knows what to do—to give the conqueror his prize and as he pushes that thick rod inside my lips, I feel my pussy and ass both clench the probes harder.

  “Ride them,” he growls, pulling his cock from my mouth and holding it against my lips, his hand still fisting my hair, holding my head back, arching my poor sore tired body.

  I try to comply, but I am tiring. My hips rock back and forth, pushing the probes in and out a little, but it is not enough, not for either of us.

  With an animal growl, he reaches down, takes hold of me by the waist and lifts me from the probes, leaving my holes empty. The world spins as he kneels and lays me face down on the floor, my knees still held up by the strapping, positioning my body perfectly for him. He uses the back strap like a harness to pull me up, my face off the floor as he drives his cock into me.

  My pussy is already wet and open from the probe and his cock fills me in one easy stroke. He is larger and far more urgent than some inanimate object. His cock throbs inside me, draws out to the tip and then plunges back in.

  I scream beneath him, my need for him greater than the need to resist. I have to have this. Have to have him. He said I would beg for him, but in the end, I didn’t have to. In the end he took me like men have been taking women for thousands of years. I can feel his need matching mine, his growls of pleasure, his breath hoarse against my ear as he takes me.

  I couldn’t move if I wanted to, but I don’t. Held in my bindings, and beneath his powerful body, I find a release I have never felt before. I’ve never given myself like this, never let myself go. I’ve always clung to control so tightly, to rebellion and to the idea that nobody—man, alien, or otherwise—could ever have power. But he has it.
He has it and I cannot deny it anymore. My pussy floods with desire, making wet sounds as he slaps his hips against my ass, fucking me roughly.

  My orgasm erupts through me as I make the most obscene animal cries I have ever heard, desperate and guttural. They are eclipsed by his as I feel what it is to have a Rathkari male climax inside my tender pussy for the first time. His cock swells, thickens all the more and holds my cunt wide as he shoots deep inside me. There is real force to his orgasm, his seed flooding my pussy and spilling out, hot as it slides over my well-fucked lips and clit and then finds the floor. I feel him pull out of me, his thick hardness leaving my tender pussy bereft, but the head of him returns, massaging that cum into my pussy and into my lips, and my clit as well. He is breathing heavily as he plays with me, my sensitive clit sending bolts of post-orgasmic pleasure through my tired body.

  Slowly, carefully, perhaps even tenderly, he unwraps the bindings and sets my body free. His large hands massage over my skin, easing the aches away with gentle motions. I curl up in his arms as he picks me up, cradling me like something precious and murmuring soft words to me that I don’t recognize. They don’t seem to be English. They’re lyrical and deep and soothing and as he carries me back to bed I feel a sense of being cared for as I have never been cared for before. With his arms around me, I am safe. The universe itself could turn against us and I would not worry because in this moment, he feels like everything.

  Chapter Four

  Hours after our first time, we lie together in the bed we vacated. He has massaged me into a soft, floppy state of relaxation, which combined with long awaited post-coital bliss leaves me relaxed for the first time in years. There is no tension in my body until he runs his hand across my bare belly with a dreamy motion.

  “You may already be pregnant.”

  “I’m not.”

  He doesn’t listen. He’s caught in his own thoughts and he doesn’t understand.

  “Likely not,” he agrees. “You will not be in your fertile period for another week or so. Then you will be properly bred.”

  His words send a pang through the very core of me. The tender relaxation evaporates as my temper flares, and with it my determination to escape.

  “In another week I’ll be so far from here you’ll need a dick the length of the Milky Way to fuck me.”

  “You have an amusing grasp of your language,” he says, deadpan. “But you will not be going anywhere.”

  “So I have no choice in this.” I look into his handsome, brutish face.

  “What choice do you need? What choice is there? Nature does not give us choices. We are made for procreation.”

  He’s an alien, but he sounds like every asshole male since the beginning of time. I can’t believe I was letting myself think that he was anything less than an utter monster. I push his hand from my belly and curl away from him, thoroughly expecting to be punished.

  Instead, he lets out a chuckle and pats my rear gently. “You are in denial of so many things, my little human.”

  I grit my teeth and lie still as the bed shifts beneath me. He stands up, pulls some light pants on, and leaves me alone. I wait until the bedroom door closes before burying my face in the bedding that smells like him and letting out a sob. I am so very frustrated, sad, and alone. He is alien. He does not understand. He has a single desire and a single goal and he intends to use me to achieve it. I have to get away from here. I have to escape.

  I cry for what feels like hours, but is probably a fraction of that time and when my tears dry, I am more determined than ever. He thinks I’m a piece of fuck meat. Fine. That works for me. If he underestimates me, it will make it easier to escape.

  As I start to feel better and stronger, I get out of bed and go looking for him. A sheet provides me with some modesty as I pad into the room where the stars spin slowly across forever. He is sitting on a couch, a tablet in his hand.

  “Feeling better, little human?” He must hear me behind him. His senses are very acute.

  I ignore his question and ask one of my own. “What are you doing?”

  “I am studying your culture.”

  I look over his shoulder to see that he is watching footage of a man putting glow sticks into a blender and turning it on. It’s from 2007, only forty years ago, but it seems like an eternity. I watch over his shoulder with a growing sense of nostalgia. I wasn’t even born when that man pureed a handful of glowing plastic and liquid but I feel connected to that time. Those were the last days of true humanity, a heyday they didn’t know enough to appreciate.

  “Your species wastes a great deal of time in superfluous activities. You could have been conquering the stars had you not spent your days blending household items and…” He flicks between video feeds. “Using pressing machines to flatten balls of rubber bands. So much human potential has gone wasted for so long. Did you know that the Rathkari evolved ten thousand years after the first modern humans? Your species could have superseded ours easily. I could have been your prisoner, had your ancestors not wasted time on superfluous notions. By our estimates, humanity has wasted a combined total of more than a million years on mere entertainment.”

  “That’s all you care about. Conquest and procreation.”

  “It is not all I care about, but our species has goals. Goals every member understands. I do not work for myself. I work for those who will come after me, the millions of Rathkari souls yet to be born. My labors are in their service. Every hour I rest is one that will never be reclaimed.”

  “What about the time you’ve wasted on me?”

  He doesn’t look up from the screen as he answers. “Time spent on you is not time wasted. You will be the mother of millions.”

  I turn away from him. He is so incredibly wrong.

  * * *

  I can hear her flitting around in a temper. If she keeps it up, I’ll give her what she needs, but for now I’ll let her have her little moment of churlish display. I keep a quiet eye on her as she approaches the large windows and sits beside them, staring out into space. As she looks, the tension drains out of her body, the clenched muscles of her jaw and neck slacken. She draws her arms around her knees, rests her head on the translucent panel, and settles down.

  My affection has grown for her so quickly I have to work to contain it. It has been a matter of days and I find my every thought being of her. It was her fragility and beauty that drew me at first, but every hour that passes I find some new facet of her personality to fascinate.

  She has a capacity for wonder that melts me. Since I found her, she has been nothing but a prickly little wretch, fighting me, fighting her own needs, refusing to acknowledge that I may have helped her in any way. I had already begun to love her for her strength, now that I have seen another side to her. The first time she saw the view she was utterly transfixed. I know what she was feeling. It was what I felt the first time I was taken into space, the first time my home world dropped away from my feet and I realized that we all truly live in absolute infinity.

  She has a greater capacity for feeling and understanding than I had imagined she would. Humans are sentient and technically intelligent, but they are not our equals. That is what our species analysis strongly suggests, but sometimes she shows capacities that I think might even exceed ours. When she looks at me, I see depths to her gaze. There is an entire world behind her eyes. She arouses my curiosity almost as much as my lust.

  I turn my eyes back to the tablet. Many species are difficult to learn about, but humanity has always had an exhibitionist streak so it seems, and they have recorded much of their recent history in text, image, and video records, everything from great events such as the first rocket to leave their atmosphere, to minutiae like eggs on bread. Nothing seems to have been too irrelevant or too mundane to document. Their libraries are incredible, numbering writings in the millions.

  We have disrupted their world most terribly, and as I sweep through images of their cities, I feel a pang of an emotion I have not felt in quite some time. G
uilt. It sits uncomfortably in my belly. It is not the mission of the Rathkari to preserve other worlds, but this one was quite unlike any other. If the invasion had not been left to the jumped-up son of a bureaucrat, more might have been preserved.

  She rises from the window and comes toward me, not directly, but walking in a wide sweeping motion that takes her around the couches and back toward me from the side. I am being flanked by a very cute and still pouting young woman. I do her the service of pretending I don’t notice as she sidles toward me. I keep my eyes on the screen as she sits, at first a few feet from me, then closer and closer. Finally, her curves find my body, curling up against me as she keeps her head away from mine, as if she is in denial of the fact that she has come to me of her own free will and cuddled up like a domestic cat.

  I lean over and drop a gentle kiss on her forehead, as a new feeling swells through me. Contentment. I do not know that I have ever felt it so fully before. With Era by my side, all is well.

  Chapter Five

  The days pass by and she starts to settle. Her strength is returning and she is becoming ever more active. My quarters are relatively large, but they are not large enough and she begins to pace whenever she is allowed to, walking back in front of the windows to the stars.

  I have seen that type of behavior in captivity before, and know it is time to take her out and show her something new. There is a whole world beyond the doors of my quarters. The ship is far larger than any of their Earth cities ever were. There is much to see and explore. All the bounties of the universe. I am looking forward to showing her. If her reaction is anything like the one she had to the windows, she will be a very happy young woman.

  “Era.”

  She turns at the sound of her name and shoots a concerned look at me, as if she suspects she is in trouble. I wonder if it is because she has done something I don’t yet know about, or if it is because every time I say her name, punishment follows.