VI – The Last of the Deimos

He had woken in a daze. For several minutes he struggled to remember who he was, where he was, why everything seemed so faded and distant. Cognition reasserted itself after a while, and then Cody remembered everything; the frantic fighting aboard the Deimos, his and Raquel’s ill-fated escape into the alien capital ship, the gravity trap that had separated them. But between getting snatched and waking he remembered nothing. He assumed he’d been hit with some kind of substance that had knocked him out, as there appeared to be no other explanation.

He had been given a proper scare when the fog had cleared and he noticed that he couldn’t move. He had some kind of grey-blue shackles around his ankles and wrists that seemed to emanate slender tendrils of a perfectly quiet lightning storm, and it was fascinating and terrifying in equal measure that he appeared to be suspended in mid-air, reclined and spread eagle.

He was naked, too. His pilot body glove was gone, as was his weapon, displaying his chiselled muscles, his half dozen scars, and the drooping manhood hanging between his thighs.

He’d be concerned if he wasn’t so damned interested in figuring out what the fuck was going on.

He had no idea why the enemy, bent on destruction as it seemed they were, would even bother taking prisoners. Their attack on Earth had come right out of the blue, unprovoked, no prior contact or communication whatsoever. For Earth’s part, the alien aggressors were a completely anonymous factor in the universe, one whose capabilities, motivations and ultimate intentions were totally unknown.

Cody had been ready to kill, to show the alien bastards a thing or two about terrestrial combat proves and brutality, but his Grinder’s early impairment had kept him out of the fight for the most part.

In the back of his mind, even Cody – trained to be an aggressive, relentless fighter within his mech-suit though he was – knew he’d most likely be dead by now if his suit hadn’t been taken out of commission. He might have taken a few aliens down with him, but there had been far too many of them, and their armour, while not impervious to kinetic weaponry, could take quite a bit of abuse before cracking.

He “hung” by the electrically discharging cuffs – or whatever the hell those things really were – in what seemed a completely empty room. It struck Cody as odd that the chamber was so large when there appeared to be nothing in it. Purplish metal floors and walls formed a square room that was maybe twenty by twenty meters, illuminated by a hovering ball of light – which reminded Cody of floating Chinese lanterns, only far brighter – directly above him. The light from the ball, directed down to brighten the chamber, left the ceiling completely dark, making it impossible to tell how high it was up.

Despite being naked, the temperature inside the room was quite agreeable, but he was starting to get impatient for something to happen. He didn’t know how long it had been since he’d awoken, but it was not unlikely that it was close to two hours ago.

He’d tried to figure out where the entryway to the room was, but despite being able to move his head and look in any direction, he did not see anything on the walls that constituted a doorway. He remembered how the doors had been hidden in the walls when he and Raquel had been herded by the aliens into the ship, and if that was how one entered this room as well, he wasn’t going to be able to find any doors with his naked eye.

Remembering Raquel, he wondered where she had been taken. Was she finding herself in a similar situation like him right now? Was she all right? It spoke volumes of his fighting spirit, his desire to still kick back, that he didn’t linger on the thought about the feisty Latina being naked and spread eagle, her tight little body on display and ripe for the plucking.

Testing his bonds got him nowhere. The shackles around his wrists and ankles let him move as much as though his limbs were submerged in concrete. He could shift his upper body somewhat, but the limbs were stuck with no leeway at all.

A dull, electronic humming noise abruptly reverberated through the chamber, the sound like a deep bass in his ears. The sound heralded a flash of crackling brilliance in front of him, making the hairs on his body stand on end. And, standing suddenly in the room with him, the form discharging a few lingering bursts of the teleportation energy, was an alien in a skin-tight white getup.

Cody barely had time to revel over what he had just seen – actual working teleportation technology, something humans had been unable to make safe enough for use – in the face of the woman before him.

It was a tall alien, easily more than two meters, arching horns growing from her temples coming up in front of the forehead, before they swept back, ending in two wicked points above the back of her head. Silken silver tresses had been gathered into a thick braid which hung over her left shoulder down over the left of her pair of very large breasts, and her shining red eyes regarded Cody with something between interest and calm superiority. Her skin was light blue, but only visible on her face, neck and hands, as the rest of her sublimely female body was covered by the skin-tight white outfit.

The suit was glossy and reminded Cody of latex or silicone, and when he called it “skin-tight” he meant it more than anything else he had seen that fit that description in his life; the outfit was so tight he could make out individual muscles beneath it, like the abdominals, quadriceps and deltoids, and the woman’s nipples bulged from inside the material’s insides. The carnal male side of Cody’s mind just knew her ass had to look spectacular in that getup.

The woman also wore a bit of ornamentation, in the form of jet-black rings on both index fingers, and a delicate gold chain hanging over her forehead that was moored in gold metal bands around the base of her horns. A red gemstone of some sort hung in the middle of the chain, above the middle of her eyes.

When the noise of her incredible manner of appearance faded, the chamber felt deathly silent. Cody could only hear his own breathing as he watched in disbelief at the strange woman that suddenly stood in front of him. The alien watched him with a completely neutral expression for a moment, appearing to size him up, her inquisitive red eyes looking him up and down several times.

Just as Cody was about to say something just to break the awkward silence, feeling himself grow less sure of his combat readiness as he looked at the woman, the way she looked at him unsettling him on a primeval level, the alien lifted her hand to belly-height. Opening her hand, palm pointing up, Cody’s eyes widened as a flash of golden light coalesced into some kind of user interface that hovered a few inches above her hand. With her other hand, she tapped at incomprehensible symbols and graphics, operating the light like a touch screen.

With a start, Cody felt himself drift towards the woman, the floating manacles moving him closer, slanting him forwards, until he hung straight up and down – but still with his arms and legs spread – his head less than an arm’s length from her face. Still betraying no emotions, the woman’s partially luminescent eyes shifted from him down to the display above her palm, and, keying another sequence of symbols, made a small green square appear from nowhere, hovering in the air above the light-display. She took the floating, gently rotating square between her index finger and thumb, holding it up between their faces, inspecting it. Seemingly satisfied, eyes on her light-display, she reached around Cody’s neck and, with a sudden push and a painful sting that made him yelp, shoved the square into the base of his neck.

“There,” the woman said. “Now we will be able to converse; your inferior mind will tell you that I am speaking your tongue and that you are still speaking yours. However, it is you who now speaks my language, though your feeble brain will not be able to discern this. To you, you appear to still speak your tongue, and that I do likewise.”

“The hell are you talking about?” Cody said, shaking his anxiety to let his anger, his fighting spirit, return, fuelled by the incredibly sharp pain in his neck.

“Concern yourself not with the technicalities of this; you will not comprehend it were I to explain it to you. Just know that the implant in your neck has embedded itself to your central nervous system and has created a link between your body and this ship.”

“Terrific,” Cody spat. “To what end? Who the fuck are you and why am I here?”

The woman set her red eyes on him, and he felt his confidence wither under their scrutiny.

“You are here because you and a female ran into this ship, or has your memory failed you? If the environment of this vessel is having an effect on your remembrance I would have you tell me.”

“I remember that,” he managed, trying– and failing – not to be discouraged by her gaze. “I mean why am I here, fucking naked, and with you?”

Now, there was a ghost of a smile on the woman’s pouting blue lips, and somehow that was even more disturbing than when she kept her expression neutral.

“The Mistress of this ship, the High Executrix of the strike force currently bringing your feeble world to heel, has gifted you to me as my first human guinea pig. Well, the first human that is unequivocally mine to do with as I please. I have already studied and altered the physiology of a dozen of your kin already, including the female with which you penetrated this ship. As she is now the personal slave of the High Executrix, you are now the property of me, Supreme Technocrat Eyre of the Everlasting Fury.”

 It didn’t sit well with Cody to think about Raquel being the “property” of the head of the alien vessel, but knowing Raquel, she would give this “High Executrix” quite the headache. He hoped she was all right, and presented with a chance to kill her captor soon.

“Introductions are now over, Subject One,” Eyre commented, keying in another sequence on the light-screen floating above her hand.

“Did you just call me ‘Subject One’?” he asked, sounding braver than he felt.

“Indeed, that is what I will be referring to you as,” she murmured as a round cylinder appeared from nowhere above her screen. It looked like soft leather, or of an equivalent material.

“Well that’s not my name, bitch. My name’s–“

Eyre shoved the cylinder into Cody’s mouth, wedging it behind his teeth until the corners of his mouth kept it from going further in. Slim straps appeared from the ends of the cylinder, which rapidly snaked around his head to attach into each other. Tightening, the straps held the gag in place, and would not release until Eyre wished it.

“I do not care what your name is. You are now merely Subject One. Unaltered and pure, perfect for my experiments.” The word “experiments” sent an icy shiver race down Cody’s spine, and then he yelped in surprise when his cuffs repositioned him again. It reclined until he was flat on his back, parallel to the floor, changing his elevation so he was about as high up as the Lead Technocrat’s hips.

Eyre was overjoyed – inside, as she was barely capable of showing such emotions outwardly – to have gotten an unspoilt subject so soon with which to start her research. The Thelluloid Empire was one who thrived on slaves, and most owners preferred their slaves tailored in specific ways to suit their needs. This could be, but not limited to, changing a slave to become bigger and stronger in order to last longer doing hard labour. It could be injecting a slave with regenerator genes to turn the slave into an organ farm, or – and most popular with the ruling classes – alter a slave’s physiology to be able to harvest the slave for his or her gender-specific secretions.

As such, the Axxchin Strike Force was carrying with them millions of commissions for human slaves from wealthy individuals all over the Empire. As far as Eyre knew, nobody wanted a pure, unaltered human, which is why she felt lucky to have been able to snatch one so soon before it, too, had been lumped with the general population of slave stock and altered for their future owner or owners.

To achieve all the demands, the Axxchin Strike Force carried with them an army of Technocrats, masters in bioengineering and xenobiology, the foremost scientific minds of the Thelluloid Empire and individuals whose pursuit for knowledge and perfection was insatiable. And Eyre was their commander.

In fact, the very first human Eyre had personally worked at had been the intended new male for Kyrah, the eccentric mistress of the Goddess’ Hand. Knowing Kyrah’s addiction and how she would want her sole male in her harem of slaves to perform, finding human physiology as easy as anything to alter, she had ensured the male would become a veritable semen-factory once his body adjusted to all the alterations. Kyrah had been overjoyed when she had read the changes Eyre had done to her new milking-stallion. But this one, she thought with another half-smile, looking Subject One up and down once again, was not tampered with. He was 100% human, and since nobody else seemed interested so far to catalogue what an unaltered human’s limits and operations were, it fell to her as a good advocate of xenobiology to do the necessary research.

Naturally, at one point she would need a human female as well, but the male would keep her occupied for a good while. The problem was what to start with. Did she focus on any specific organ to chart their function and tolerances in certain conditions? Did she start by checking how much strain any particular group of muscles could be subjected to before irreparable damage were done to them? Did she start by delving into his mind to discover the human brain’s capacities?

No, actually, taking a page from Kyrah’s book – something she felt like more respectable Thelluloids should, despite Kyrah having issues of her own – Eyre would start by logging what an unaltered human male would go through when having his seed continuously harvested in a reasonably long session.

Six hours, for instance, that seemed like a good place to start.

---

Tired and battered, the Independent Scandian Assault Regiment had finally received help. They were now supported by the 33^rd Baltikum Mechanized and the 1^st Combined Avalon Battle Brigade, and were now counterattacking the alien lines in the snow. A hellstorm of rocket batteries and kinetic artillery softened up the technologically superior adversary, their heaviest mechs and armour targeted by the awesome guns of the Avalon’s seaborne vessels far off the shore.

Taking the initiative, ISAR spearheaded the daring counterattack deep into enemy lines, shredding through the foe who did the tactically sound decision to fall back. Casualties on both sides continued to mount, but with the help from the Baltikums’ flanking manoeuvre on ISAR’s south side, as well as the Avalon ships and landing parties hammering into the aliens from the north, the CTDD forces slowly slugged their way through the alien lines, stopping only when it was deemed irresponsible to push on lest they overextend themselves.

Content to have proven to the enemy that the Combined Terran Defence Directorate was nowhere near done defending their home turf, all CTDD forces engaged on the northern flank of the planet consolidated and regrouped, more seaborne reinforcements entering the theatre from other sea sectors.

It was not a victory to have sent the aliens running for the first time since the invasion, but it was a welcome reprieve to the battered forces fighting in the frozen north. Elsewhere on the planet the fighting was not necessarily progressing as well, and the enemy – unchallenged in orbit around the planet – kept pouring more forces into the fight.

Although, the aliens no longer dared to insert their fresh forces right at the front lines, as Terran anti-orbit batteries were now in play, getting quite adept at smiting the descending aliens from their pods as they streaked through the skies.

The first day of the war was winding down, but not by a lot.

Huffing, puffing, eyes rolled back into her skull, unable to tell up from down, Raquel was struggling to recover after the Shix warriors had had their way with her. After all the Shix warriors had had their way with her. It had taken hours, and despite being very generous with lube and spit, all the lubrication in the galaxy couldn’t have kept all of Raquel’s holes from begin sore to the point of actually catching fire.

She was sweating all over, at times losing the connection between her mind and her body, but after a good while after the brutish women had left her alone, awareness was starting to reassert itself in her.

God she felt terrible, like she had been literally torn apart by the large dildos that had repeatedly and pitilessly penetrated her mouth, ass and pussy over and over, the hoots and gleeful shouts of the huge girls accompanying the brutal gang rape reverberating through her mind.

It was hard to move, and not all of that had anything to do with the cuffs still keeping her hands bound behind her back. The shock collar the Shix had loved to use on her still clamped uncomfortably around her neck, but she had gotten used to its presence now. At least it was not shocking her body by directing more currents through her spine anymore.

They had left her on the floor, a figurative pool of herself, sweating and exhausted, spent and violated. As she managed to gain control of her body again and her vision cleared, her breathing through her open mouth calming somewhat, she tried focusing on banishing the pounding she felt in her head, her chest, her loins and her jugulars. Relaxing, breathing, closing her eyes, she slowly felt better, but she felt far from good. She felt like what she was; a discarded fuck-toy for giants.

Somehow, her stinging, still freshly pierced nipples didn’t feel so bad anymore. In fact, she much preferred that sharp ache to the pain currently having dominion over her body. Even her skin felt painful to the touch against the cold floor.

Raquel was a strong woman, twisted in a good way. Though she never condoned anything of the sort, she had joked about rape with her fellow military types, often alluding that if anybody was going to do any raping between her and a made-up man, she would be the perpetrator.

Of course, the real world was a far darker place, one where subjects like rape were deplorable and terrible. Now she was a victim of that most lowly of crimes, but what stung her most was how this treatment was completely acceptable among these aliens. In fact, they had told her repeatedly that she was now a mere fuck-toy for the High Executrix’s amusement, and that they hoped they’d get to “borrow” her many times.

Her captor – this haughty alien cunt calling herself the “High Executrix” – had told Raquel that she was to be given to Zheya’s warriors to “discipline” her for being “disrespectful”. She had said that maybe getting gang raped by these women would make her appreciate being by Zheya’s side instead.

In her gut, Raquel knew she would never stop resisting her captors, but right there, right then, she yearned to be back in her captor’s clutches. Whatever she would do to her, it could not possibly be worse than getting manhandled by a dozen brutish women who were all muscle and carnal desires.

Speak of the devil, possibly literally, the door to the chamber where she had been raped opened, admitting her captor.

Zheya walked in, casually, hands behind her back, ever surrounded by an air of quiet dignity and confidence. “My personal guard much enjoyed my reward to them. The question is, did you enjoy the punishment as much?”

Raquel couldn’t answer. It felt like even her vocal cords hurt from having her throat forcefully fucked so much.

“Sore, are we?” Zheya leered down at her slave, her expression completely indifferent.

She much enjoyed seeing her newest acquisition fucked-out as she was, her skin coated in sweat, her face stained with tears and drool, her body a tired mess and her head a torrent of conflicting emotions.

Again, Raquel didn’t have it in her to respond. She could only grunt feebly.

“On your knees, slave,” Zheya said dryly, expecting compliance. When Raquel did no sign to change her position, she added “Shall I go get a new group of warriors to take you on? Did this lesson in obedience fall short of teaching you anything?”

That, got Raquel moving. Struggling with the terrible weight of her own body, groaning with the effort, she slowly pulled her legs under her, planting her knees and lifting her upper body, eventually coming up to sit back on her heels. Her arms, still bound behind her back, felt ready to fall off, and sitting on her knees on the hard floor didn’t feel comfortable at all.

This spectacle produced a tight-lipped smile from Zheya. “Good. But when you kneel before me, I require that you present your chest properly.”

Raquel didn’t really know what she meant, but did the only thing she could think to do. She straightened her back and pushed out her chest, lifting her head to make sure the alien got a good look of her.

 Zheya smiled wider. “Very good, my slave. Whenever I tell you to ‘assume the position’, this is how I want you. Remember that, for I will not explain it again.”

Raquel did her best to commit that to memory. She was too tired to fight her captor in any way right now.

Zheya took in the vision of her new human slavegirl, her toned, fit body and her large breasts, the new barbells through her nipples sure to still cause her discomfort.

Looking what a mess her personal guard had made of Raquel, it was no wonder she was being so submissive. She doubted it would last, however. Raquel was the sort of slave who would keep giving trouble when she had the strength to do so. Zheya didn’t mind that one bit. In fact, she enjoyed that about certain slaves. To be given excuses to punish and discipline was just great fun, and she would need all the fun she could get between the fighting.

“Come, slave, on your feet. We shall retire to my quarters.”

Only half listening, still trying to calm her breathing, Raquel wobbled to her feet and, at her gesture, fell in behind her captor, following her on shaky legs.

They left the room and headed down a long corridor. Raquel wasn’t paying attention. Her vision was swimming, and the swaying motion of her head as she walked had rekindled her headache with a vengeance. Blurry eyed, fighting the urge to hurl, she simply kept the general form of Zheya in her field of view as she followed like an obedient dog, stumbling like a drunk.

The longer they walked, the better Raquel felt. She was still hurting all over, but standing erect and being in motion cleared her head in short order; just in time to see a door on the wall next to them open.

“In here for a moment,” Zheya said, grabbing Raquel by the collar and pushing her ahead in front of her. Inside the little chamber, Zheya removed the shock collar with but the push of a button, the metal ring collapsing to the purple floor.

“Mistress…” a low drone of a voice spoke, the gruffness of it making Raquel shudder all over.

Looking up, her brown eyes widened at the sight of a male Shix, impossibly even more muscled and bulkier than the women, who were huge themselves. He wore only a loincloth of sorts, displaying the rest of his gargantuan purple body, and despite herself Raquel’s eyes were drawn straight to the bulge in his loincloth that was bigger than her head by a good margin.

The room was this particular male Shix’s chamber, only furnished with a simple bed and a rack for his armour and weapon.

“What is your name, warrior?” the High Executrix demanded. She was by no means a small woman herself, dwarfing Raquel with ease, but she appeared positively tiny before the male Shix. Still she carried herself like she could end this hulking brute’s existence with but a snap of her fingers.

“I am Raon Six Six Nine Eight Two Five,” he said flatly.

Zheya looked down on Raquel who stood next to her, relishing the fear in those eyes that had held nothing but hate when first they met.

“Male Shix are good for only a few things. The chief thing is fighting. Therefore they have no real names. They are simply given the name of their unit and a number to distinguish them from the flock." Raon said nothing, did nothing, didn’t even seem upset that the High Executrix had so brazenly called him close to useless.

“But they have another feature that I find useful.” Her golden eyes found Raon’s grey. With a nod, she had the behemoth remove his loincloth to stand completely naked before them.

Again Raquel’s eyes widened in shock, her mouth falling open now as well. Raon Six Six Nine Eight Two Five’s cock was about as large as a horse’s, and she shuddered to think of how it would feel forcing its way into her. The balls looked like the size of small melons, and the apparent weigh to them seemed more than enough to drag the entire beast down with them.

“I see you are impressed,” Zheya said, half-joking. “As you should be.”

She turned to Raon. “What would you say if I told you to fuck this girl all night? Would you do it? Happily?” Raquel’s heart nearly stopped when she asked that question, and again when the Shix’s dark eyes fixed on her.

“Yessssss…” he hissed, his member already pulsing with anticipation.

“Would you pump her full of your cum repeatedly? Would you fuck her and give her no rest for as long as I’d give her to you?”

“Yessssssss…”

Zheya seized Raquel’s chin and turned her towards her. Leaning her face in close, she said, “Before you think to disobey me next time, you should know that whenever I feel like giving you your next punishment, I am going to leave you with Raon for a full night. If you don’t pass out from the brutal fucking, you might very well come close to drowning if he ever decides to shoot his load into your mouth. Which he will. Do you understand me?”

For a moment Raquel was frozen in fear. Eventually, she nodded, her eyes darting between her captor’s gold orbs and Raon’s immense tool.

“Good.” Zheya let go of her chin. “Then let us continue to my chambers. It is high time we spend some time alone in my bed.”