Her Cyborg Warriors

by Grace Goodwin

  I felt good though. Besides, with that cock deep inside me, I wanted to do as he demanded. I wanted to make him lose his mind. I needed them both to feel as good as I did—and I knew, through that strange psychic connection, that he needed me desperately, that he was aching and in pain. He had held himself back to see to my pleasure first.

  Behind that desperation and physical lust? Longing. Adoration. Protection. Obsession. Love. I’d never felt anything like this before. My body rode the edge, greedy. On fire. My heart was exploding, the feelings so strong I cried out as I moved forward to claim what was mine, to seal our connection. We three.

  I felt the heavy heat of him against my lips, and I licked the tip. The taste of his pre-cum burst on my tongue. Oh yes, he was aroused by me. That drop of essence was all mine, and he was giving it to me. I circled his hardness like an ice cream cone, then took it into my mouth. He was so big I couldn’t take all of him, but I tried to. I wanted to. My hips began to shift, ready to fuck the cock in my pussy.

  I had two cocks in me. Mouth and pussy. This was like a porno, but I was no adult film star. I had two males who desired me and wanted me. I wasn’t being used. No, it oddly felt special, decadent. I was the center of these two males’ worlds, and they were the heart and soul of mine. They were pleasuring me as I was doing the same to them.

  I only thought of them. Their needs. I felt them somehow. I knew exactly how much I meant to them. I sensed their pleasure and their lust. I could feel how beautiful I was to both of them. I felt worshipped. Adored. Needed. Protected.

  No wonder they’d had me wait quietly, to clear my mind. They deserved my attention, and this connection between us, that I somehow knew was tied to the mysterious collar around my—her—neck, was important enough to be in this moment with them.

  They spoke to me, deep murmurs of praise and dirty talk. I felt equally cherished and naughty as they slid their cocks in and out of my body, yet the encounter was so hot. I knew what was to come. I’d seen that in this dream. The claiming.

  Either this wasn’t normal sex or I’d been doing it wrong. How could it be this incredible, this wild, this dirty and yet feel so good? I was going to come, but I couldn’t say it with my mouth full.

  From one heartbeat to the next, I just let go, gave over to the pleasure, to the heat, the blinding light, to the bliss as I clamped down my inner muscles on the cock in my pussy and hollowed out my cheeks in sweet suction, eliciting spurts of hot cum into me. Filling me, body and soul.

  “Holy shit,” I said as I writhed on the hard chair, tugged at my wrists. The orgasm still swept through me, but I knew I was no longer in the dream. It was over. I was in the testing chair alone.

  No, not alone, for I blinked my eyes open at the warden who was monitoring my testing. She sat at the utilitarian table, her tablet before her.

  I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. I could feel the thick cum as it had jetted onto my tongue, tasted it still. But it hadn’t been real.

  None of it was real, which suddenly had me on the verge of tears for no logical reason. I’d known the whole time that it was part of the Interstellar Brides testing protocol. I’d known. Yet still, this stupid alien technology had gotten into my head, made me want things. Made me feel loved. Special. Adored. Like I belonged.

  After the last few months of trials and lawyers and a judge glaring at me from behind the bench, not to mention the bitches I’d had to put up with in jail—well, feeling good now was almost cruel. I’d grown jaded, and that testing had taken it all away from me—literally stripped me of all my mental defenses—in a matter of minutes.

  Damn it.

  “That was insane. What kind of testing was that?” I asked, my voice harsh. Had they done that to humiliate me? Was it some special torture they devised for felons to force them to feel even worse than they had while sitting in a cold prison cell?

  “Bride testing,” Warden Bisset replied. Her name tag read Yvonne Bisset. She was a petite woman who didn’t look much older than me, definitely not yet thirty. She was beautiful in a very European way. She had pale blue eyes and dark blonde hair that seemed to curl perfectly all on its own. Her accent was barely there, her English perfect, but I could hear the French influence.

  The other woman, the one in charge, was Warden Egara. I looked to her now because of the two, she seemed to know her stuff. They were about the same age, if I had to guess, but Warden Egara had a real no-nonsense vibe about her, which I appreciated. I’d heard enough lies in the courtroom—from both the prosecutor’s attorneys and mine—to last a lifetime. I was getting a strong truth vibe from her. Warden Egara.

  She was everything Yvonne Bisset was not. Dark brown hair. Gray eyes. Severe expression. Her hair, pulled back into a tight, very restrictive bun, gave her cheekbones a harsh look. She was beautiful as well, but there was something almost tragic about her, where Yvonne Bisset seemed to be free-floating perfection.

  Warden Bisset was in training, or so I’d been told before they put me under. She’d be going off to Paris to a new bride testing center where they would send even more criminals into space to be sandwiched between two hot aliens until they forget their own names.

  And that’s exactly what had happened to me. I forgot I was me and became her. Whoever she was. Lucky woman.

  I never panicked, and I never lost control. I hadn’t survived against the ruthless ocean this long as a world-class surfer by losing control of myself when things got dicey.

  But that dream? These two ladies had laid waste to me. Wrecked me. And I was embarrassed and not too happy with myself.

  “Do any of the brides sue for harassment after you force them to have sex?”

  Warden Bisset whispered disagreeably under her breath, but Warden Egara’s dark brow arched. “Were you forced?”

  I thought of the dream, the lingering memory of my pussy being crammed full, the burn in my bottom where the plug had been lodged.

  Well, shit. It seemed I couldn’t make myself lie to her either. “No, but they ordered me to do things.”

  “They were dominants. Most of the males on other planets will be strong and demanding. The typical alpha male.” Warden Bisset’s voice implied I would be pleased by this information, as if dominant, bossy aliens were my thing.

  Just great. “You didn’t answer my question. Was that normal?”

  Warden Bisset looked down at her tablet. “Actually I’ve never had a volunteer who fought the testing so much. Usually test subjects give in and the dream takes over, allowing access to the subconscious to collect the data needed for the perfect match. You, however, had to be subverted to secondary protocol.”

  “What does that mean?” I didn’t even mention the fact that she’d just called me a test subject, like I was a lab rat.

  She sighed as if I were a total pain in her backside. I didn’t care. I wanted to know what she meant by secondary protocol. Did that mean I didn’t have a match? That I was abnormal? What?

  2

  Doctor Surnen Syrzon, Science Bay, Medical Unit, The Colony

  * * *

  The organism moving beneath the microscope twisted and stretched, completely engulfing the healthy Prillon cell floating in the growth medium next to it. Something so tiny, so fascinating, was making warriors sick. It wasn’t killing my patients, but the infection was incapacitating strong fighters in their prime. It was my job to identify it, understand it and eradicate it. Not just for here on The Colony, but throughout the Coalition. I was almost there.

  “Dr. Surnen? You’re needed in transport two.” Captain Trax stood at the entrance to my laboratory. He was my chosen second—should I ever be lucky enough to be matched to a female of my own—and a trusted friend. He was also prone to overreaction, his warrior instincts making every matter urgent. He’d grown up on a battleship, been fighting since he was old enough to hold a blaster, and he made decisions in seconds that I preferred to contemplate for a bit longer.

  I was a doctor, a researcher. We both followed
protocol to the letter—I, as a scientist, he as a ruthless fighter—believing that regulations were what kept us all safe. But the frequent trips I’d been taking to Transport Two to check incoming medical supplies were growing tiresome. I was busy and too close to finalizing the treatment serum that would end this latest sickness to divert my time.

  My gaze locked to the infectious cell as it continued devouring the now weakened Prillon cell, I didn’t bother lifting my head to respond to Trax. Adding a drop of fluid to the slide, I watched as my serum sample killed the bacteria. I grinned. “Send one of the techs. I’m busy.”

  His deep exhale was the only indication of his frustration with me. “Surnen, don’t be an ass.” And his tone. And word choice. “Now. Now would be good.”

  “Still busy.” I had two Prillon warriors in ReGen pods and half a dozen more quarantined in their quarters. Someone else could check off inventory lists.

  I expected Trax to leave, to do as I’d requested and drag one of the medical officers down to inspect the new shipment. Instead he stepped farther into the room. “Are you refusing to accompany me to Transport Two?”

  “Yes, I fucking am,” I snapped. “Go away. I’ve got eight warriors down with this gods’ damned infection already, and I’m finalizing the treatment. As I said, I’m busy. I have more important things to do than inspect the latest shipment to come in.”

  “Excellent.” His happiness stirred my curiosity, and I lifted my chin to look at him over the medical equipment.

  “I’m glad you are pleased.” I cocked my head toward the door. “Now get out.”

  “Dr. Surnen of Prillon Prime, as you have refused to arrive at transport to greet your new mate, I officially request the rights and privileges of Primary Male be transferred to me. Computer, please make note of the date and time of this request.”

  A smooth, feminine voice emanated from a speaker near the door. “Confirmed, Captain Trax. Your request has been processed and sent to Prillon Prime for formal consideration.”

  “What?” What the fuck had he just said?

  “Let me know when you are finished playing with your toys, Surnen. You can be my second. I’ll be taking care of our female while you work. Don’t worry about her safety or happiness. I will make sure she is claimed and protected by a Prillon collar and tend to all her needs while you save the universe.”

  With those final words, he bowed formally, turned on his heel and left me behind my workbench, jaw slack.

  What?

  My mind stirred slowly. When I worked, every thought, feeling and emotion I had came into sharp focus on the task at hand. The serum sample I’d made could eliminate the need to use ReGen pods to cure the warriors. A single dose of the serum should act as a preventative to further infections. The information and the treatment I would perfect would be uploaded to the Coalition Fleet’s medical database and disseminated to the Fleet to assist other warriors who may have human females for brides. As Earth was the only planet that appeared to have females willing to accept the damaged males on The Colony as mates, finding a cure was of paramount importance as the bacteria was a human disease that had adapted to its new environment: nonhumans on The Colony.

  With so many planets constantly interacting, the struggle to contain new strains of disease kept me well occupied and was a constant battle within the Coalition Fleet, one I excelled at winning.

  I battled what I could fight, using my intellect and ability to focus to cure diseases from all over the galaxy. Other worlds often sent me samples of new organisms and diseases, seeking assistance in understanding and treating them. I would not rot away on this planet feeling sorry for myself. I refused.

  I’d spent enough time mourning the deaths of my parents due to my mother’s rebellious nature and my two fathers’ lack of desire to control her. She’d been fun. I would admit that. My mother had lived life like there was no tomorrow and thrown caution—and regulation—to the stars. They’d all died for it, for my fathers had given in to her every whim.

  Because my parents broke Coalition Fleet protocols, I’d become an orphan at twelve. Determined not to allow any others to make the same mistakes or suffer the same consequences, I’d joined the medical job training system on Prillon Prime to learn how to save others. I had no family, few friends, and once I’d been captured and contaminated by the Hive, I knew I never would.

  Routine. Purpose. Training. Rules. Regulations. Order. Everything my mother had hated with a fiery passion had been the only things capable of saving me.

  I had work to do. Important work. Except…

  Surely Trax had been joking about the arrival of a mate.

  The arrival of a female match for me was impossible. Fucking impossible. I had taken the matching test, so there was a statistical chance, yet I’d given up hope of having an Interstellar Bride years ago. Years.

  Still…

  “Comms,” I called out. “This is Medical. Connect me to Transport Two.”

  “Connected, Doctor,” the comm system replied. Through the speaker I could hear voices. Too many voices for a standard medical supply transport.

  “This is Dr. Surnen.”

  “Surnen? This is Rachel. What the hell are you doing? Why aren’t you down here? Hurry up!” The human female was mated to the governor of Base 3 and his second, Captain Ryston. We had not been friendly when she’d first arrived on The Colony. Far from it. But the delivery of her child had earned me her forgiveness for following protocol upon her arrival and insisting on medical exams that she had not wanted.

  “Oh my God, this is so exciting. I can’t wait to meet her!”

  That voice belonged to another human female, Lindsey, if I weren’t mistaken. She’d arrived and brought her mother and young son to The Colony and taken an Everian Hunter as her mate. I had delivered her new child as well. I was becoming an obstetrician as much as a bacteriologist.

  “What is going on down there?” I asked. My heart began to pound in my chest, but I pushed all excitement back. Surely this was a trick. My mind engaged with difficulty, still fully engrossed in genetic analysis. The switch in thinking was extreme, and hard to accept. A mate. Could it be true?

  “Get your ass down here, Doc. We received word of your match and your mate’s imminent arrival. Trax looks like he’s about to lose his shit.”

  Those blunt, crass words could only have come from Kristin—mated to Tyran and Hunt—who had been a law enforcement officer on Earth and still worked with the scouting teams here on the planet. How those two males allowed their mate to place her life in danger on a daily basis, I could neither understand nor condone, but she was not my female to protect. Not my problem, at least until she got herself hurt.

  If my female spoke to me in such a tone, I would turn her ass red right before I filled her with my cock.

  “Doc? You there?” Kristin asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Your mate. Did you hear those two words come out of my mouth?”

  “Yes.” I had, but I still didn’t believe them. I didn’t dare. The only thing that had kept me sane all these years on this wasteland of a planet was resignation. I would serve my purpose and die on this rock. That was my fate.

  A mate meant hope. And hope would fucking kill me.

  I stood, but my feet remained frozen in place as an explosion of noise, of voices and excited females became a jumble of sound through the comm.

  “Dr. Surnen, this is Maxim.”

  My entire body flooded with relief at the deep, authoritative voice. Finally, an end to this madness. “Yes, Governor.”

  “This is not a joke,” he snapped. “Your mate, Umiki Tanaka from Earth, is listed as being the next inbound transport. Trax is standing here with a blue blanket awaiting her arrival.”

  Fuck.

  Blue was Trax’s family color, not mine. Not fucking mine. He’d been serious.

  “I received notification, Doctor, that Trax sent a request to Prillon Prime to be assigned Primary Male. Do you wish me to support
his claim?”

  Fuck that.

  “He is my chosen second, and she’s mine,” I said, walking toward the door… and closer to my mate.

  His chuckle would have made me furious if I hadn’t been such a stupid ass for the last few minutes. “I thought you might say that.”

  Mikki, Interstellar Brides Processing Center, Earth

  * * *

  The corner of Warden Bisset’s mouth tipped up at my question. “All it means, Ms. Tanaka, is that the testing took twice as long as usual. I had to initiate a second simulation, one you would accept, but the data was finally gathered. You have been successfully matched.”

  I frowned. “I have?” I tried to raise my hand to scratch my head, but I was restrained. “Can you open these up?”

  “No. Per protocol, all felons are to remain confined for the duration of the testing and transport. I’m sorry, Ms. Tanaka.”

  “Call me Mikki. And I’m not going to hurt you.” I tipped my chin up. “I’m an environmental biologist. I’m sure that tablet has all my information in it.” Sighing, I went on. “Fine, I was sent to prison, but for destruction of property, not murder.”

  I’d blown huge holes in a couple of boats. Empty boats. Commercial whaling ships that were breaking the international ban. Scientific research, my ass. They gave real scientists like me a bad name. Yet that was the excuse they’d used. So what? It was okay for them to go out and kill whales, but putting a hole in the side of an empty boat was worse?

  I’d do it again. That was why my parents had let me rot in jail and forced me to make do with a public defender when they had more than enough money to hire an attorney who could have gotten me out on probation.

  My parents were big on the law. On rules. Protocol. Duty and family honor. I’d had that lecture so many times I could recite every word both parents would say before they even opened their mouths. They’d been immigrants, afraid to do anything that might rock the boat until they became full citizens. Even after that, the culture they’d grown up in did not approve of rebellious behavior. Family. Honor. Duty. That was everything to them.