Chapter 1 #2
“Dr. Xan can’t help me, Numbers,” I snap. “Well, actually, he could…but he won’t.”
“The doctor, captain, and commander just want what’s best for you.”
“More like they just want to follow protocol, because what’s best for me isn’t returning to Earth. If they want to do what’s best for me, they should ignore their daft protocols, and make me a hybrid.”
* * *
“We just want what’s best for you,” Braxton says gently, basically repeating what Numbers said yesterday, in a deep and growly voice that can’t really sound gentle without a lot of effort on his part. I was afraid of the commander before he learned how to make it softer around me.
“And I’ve told you getting dicked down so good my DNA changes is what I feel would be best for me, not mating with another human,” I huff.
“I want to be a hybrid! All humans are meant to be hybrids one day. Our genetic code made sure, if Givers and humans were ever able to travel across great distances within their galaxy and mate, that this would be the fate of our species. Why are you trying to keep me from fulfilling my destiny?”
Commander Braxton groans, across the brushed-steel table we’re all sitting at in the canteen, and puts his head in his hands.
We were just joined by Dr. Xan, who is stone-faced, straight-backed, and doesn’t move one well-defined muscle, and Captain Henrix, who curses under his breath as his aura flickers in and out of sight.
Its color is a deep orange with a reddish hue, meaning he’s aroused by what I said and not happy about it.
“Just stop, Jay,” he says, with a harsh edge that doesn’t match the concern in his eyes (which I find oddly readable, despite them being solid black with no whites or distinguishable irises). “Stop derailing.”
“I’m not derailing, Hex. I’m speaking my truth.” It’s not my fault these aliens are a direct species, and that I’ve adapted to their ways after years of living on their ship.
“I’m about to derail this meeting with you over my knee,” Xan threatens.
“Promise?” I ask, my long lashes fluttering so I draw their attention to my bluish-green orbs. There’s something about human eyes that gets alien blood pumping. “Promise you’ll punish me real hard?”
His flickering aura a deep red now, Hex stands and makes no attempt to hide two large bulges in his tactical, tight-fitting coveralls.
“I don’t have time for this. I must shower, cold, before my mission, thanks to you two.
” He shoots daggers at me and Xan, and then he’s out the exit, his long legs getting him so far so fast you could blink and miss him leaving.
So, that meeting just went about as well as the last three. Boy, do I enjoy these “you have to return to your own kind” and “you’re not meant to have alien mates” talks.
During each one, I’ve argued NVs aren’t that different from human men. You might even mistake them for modified human men—military experiments or something—if their extraterrestrial status wasn’t known.
Fangs, claws, and seven-foot statures aren’t exactly…
unfamiliar traits to humans. We gawk at them, but they weren’t new to us when NVs arrived on Earth.
And an experiment that gave them such a height to go with their talons, and the two very sharp teeth in their otherwise very human-like mouths, could surely give them orange, purple, blue, red, and green skin as well.
Xan (my purple, blue-haired doctor), Braxton (my blue, white-haired commander), and Hex (my red, dark-haired captain) can’t argue with those points, but I have to admit my argument kind of falls apart when those interstellar diplomatic fleet officers bring up their auras.
Even though a spike in your pulse or blush on your cheeks can give away a lot, humans don’t have anything close to those smoky looking colors that float around NVs whenever they feel intense emotions, letting everyone in the room know exactly what they’re feeling.
“Those are not of this world, Jay,” Hex has argued in the past. “And neither are our givers.”
I guess I have to give that one to him as well. NV “givers” refer to two separate things: a certain type of NV man, and what he’s packing.
Givers are the NVs who carry the life seed that becomes a “hatchling” when their mates (Seed Bearers) give birth, before it reaches the “nestling” or “little one” stage of development.
The stage after that is when a nestling becomes a grown Seed Bearer, or Giver, who carries their life seed in their givers. (Not confusing at all, right?)
Giver “givers” are their species’ man-parts.
Or heavy, knocking knobs, as one might say.
Or big, colorful, swinging tallywhackers.
Whatever you’d like to call them. Humans have lots of words for these parts, which look a lot more like the human eggplant emoji than human man-parts do (especially on purple NVs), and every Giver has two of those eggplants.
Some humans claim to be horrified by them. I personally can’t think of anything hotter than seven-foot, built-like-mountains beings with two enormous pricks, and auras that appear when they’re really horny, so they can’t hide how much they want to fuck you with those enormous pricks.
But how much Braxton, Hex, and Xan want me has made things a bit awkward on the Derecko spaceship lately. Even with me wanting them back. And, even without any other humans living among us in near-Earth space.
I entered my twenties nearly five years ago, and NVs know the twenties are usually the first time true independence is experienced in the human life cycle, but age works differently for them.
They age more slowly, reaching full maturity later than humans, so it’s hard for them to not still see me as the little one they took in when my own kind rejected me. But I’m not a bloody nestling anymore. Stubble grows all over my chin now! THICK stubble.
Grown. Ass. Man. Stubble.
And this grown ass man wants nothing more than to be shagged like the grown ass man that he is.
“I’m sick of Hex talking to me like I’m a nestling, and telling me what’s best for my life, and then walking away before I get to have my say,” I pout, much like a nestling would in a meeting that is supposed to be serious, grown-person business.
“You know it’s not just about you, or us,” Braxton says, his tone remaining gentle as he tries to get the meeting back under control, without Hex.
“Duh,” I huff. “That’s what’s pissing me off more than anything else! When does it get to be about me? About us?”
I cross my arms over my much-slighter-than-theirs human chest, feeling so small and outnumbered right now, because I bloody well am.
I work out a lot in the ship’s fitness center, but the bulking up I’ve been able to do over the past few years never feels like enough when I’m surrounded by NVs who are nearly double my size.
“Our lives not being entirely our own isn’t going to change,” Braxton continues, sterner now.
“We are the first generation of NVs and humans who have attempted co-existence with each other. And the first rule of co-existence with other life forms is ‘try not to do anything that would piss the other life form off.’ If we fail at that, we’ll set a bad example for many generations to come. ”
“That’s not fair, though,” I grumble. “It’s not fair that I, and Hex, and you, and Xan can’t have what we want because Earthlings don’t like what happened to Lieutenant Lory.”
“’Don’t like’ is an understatement,” Xan grits out. “And you know it.”
“Yes…I know, but I also know I want to have your hatchlings, and having a hybrid one doesn’t scare me like it scared Lieutenant Lory,” I tell Xan, not in the mood to back down ever.
But, Jay, how is that possible? You might ask. And why aren’t you scared? How do you know a hybrid hatchling won’t rip through you like the Chestburster from Alien when it’s time to pop that sucker out?
Simple. Lieutenant Lory already lived my dream and it didn’t hurt him. It just changed him. Not, like, spiritually, but I’m sure getting railed by a two-headed (in-their-trousers) alien would be a divine experience for many a humble Homo sapiens.
When Lieutenant Tyler Lory’s ass was pounded by an NV Giver, my man hit the jackpot that night, discovering a genetic inheritance humans didn’t know we had.
Whoever came to our galaxy eons ago and seeded life on Earth left something hidden in its genetic code.
When humans mate with Givers, that dormant part of us awakens, and our cells begin to mirror theirs.
That’s why one ass pounding was all it took for Lory to become a pregnant hybrid, and to blow up NV and human negotiations that would have changed humanity forever.
The ass-pounding that changed Lory’s DNA was totally consensual, but he and the NV who pounded that human ass didn’t expect Lieutenant Lory (a human man with no human womb) to get pregnant with a hybrid, or to become a hybrid himself.
Those unexpected physiological changes were what turned a lot of humans, like my father, against NVs.
When they came to Earth and introduced themselves to the human race, it was the coolest thing that had ever happened for about five weeks. And millions of humans not only welcomed them, but begged for a chance to travel to their planet Eppo, located in the Deppoxyl System, trillions of miles away.
But as people learned more about NVs (and what getting pounded by them could do to us) humans began to fear that they came to Earth because they wanted to turn us into them, and make our planet theirs.
I’ve seen some old clips from those dark days when NVs became Earth’s number one villain, and the worst thing was how reasonable the fear mongering sounded.
“How could the NVs not know this would happen? How could they not know we share a common ancestor?” One conspiracy theorist had ranted from a streaming room that was styled to look like a bunker.
“These visitors can’t be trusted. They’ve only been kind to us because there’s no need to conquer a whole species when you have the power to make all of them just like you with a few centuries of shagging them. ”
“The human race overflows with negativity and pessimism,” Xan grumbled, back when I asked him about those clips, and why the NVs who stuck around to improve relations with Earth always stayed in their ships, or in guarded compounds.
“They don’t want to mix with us because they think we mean to harm them, but we have never harmed them. Not intentionally.”
“I feel harmed when I’m told to feed our friends in the web room,” I argued. “And you intentionally force me in there all the time.”
Xan let out a grunt, turned away from me, and said: “It’s a shame that cowardice overflows from humans too.”
Yeah, he can be a hard-ass. But I’d still do anything to feel him hard in my ass. And I’d do just about anything else to please him and make him happy. Anything but “going back” to “my kind.”
“I’m sorry, Jay, but we can’t give you what you want or need anymore, as a human adult who has reached the next stage of his life,” Braxton says sternly, his voice less gentle now, as he begins talking like our meeting is coming to an end.
“Every member of the Derecko crew has decided reintegrateing into human society would be good for you, and the human leaders we are on good terms with agree.”
“Then I hate them!” I shout, slamming my hands on the table. “And I hate you too!”
“You don’t mean that, Jay,” Xan says, without one crack in his stone face. “Apologize to Braxton.”
“Braxton can suck my dick,” I huff, rising to my feet. “And you can lick my balls.”
“Great!” Braxton huffs back as I storm out, a lot slower than Hex did. “Great meeting!”