Probed
Chapter 4 — Take Me To Your Leader
Jenna drifted in bone-deep satisfaction, drunk on physical stimulation and neurochemical approval. She was being carried. She was slimy. Trish was gone. She was so horny.
All these facts hovered at the edges of her awareness, but never quite touched her. They were too heavy, and she was too light, floating above them. Jenna had never tried a controlled substance in her life, but no man-made drug could compare to the serene bliss enveloping her brain. Nothing concerned her. Not aliens. Not abductions. Especially not the prospect of being force-fed more of the wonderful honey.
The Zylians brought her to another round chamber, though this one was smaller and its resinous walls were thicker, denser. The heat was almost unbearable, and the humidity heavy enough to leave droplets of moisture on Jenna’s bare skin. There was nearly a dozen more of the creatures, clinging to the walls, clambering over one another, performing some tasks entirely uninteresting to Jenna. But it wasn’t just them. There was also a... a woman?
The creature definitely gave off a feminine vibe, with more slender, elegant limbs and body, and longer, finer antennae. It was also paler than the others, more golden, with silvery patterns in swirls and spirals and slashes all over her carapace. Spots and specks arranged in rows gave off a shifting, blinking bioluminescence. Its huge eyes, larger than the others’ by far, shone with iridescent oil-slick colors overtop of infinite, fractal blackness. With one of its four, many-jointed arms, the alien beckoned to Jenna.
It—she?—spoke. The speech was chitters and gestures and antennae wiggles and flashes of color and notes of musky perfumes. At first it was nothing to Jenna, meaningless noise unable to penetrate her honey-induced high. But then she felt a presence in her mind. Uukati. The other alien was reaching out. Touching her thoughts. Their thoughts. Connecting them.
For the language center of her brain, it was somewhere between a spoken translation; somehow, with the Researcher’s help, all the clicks and twitches and blinks made sense. They formed words.
“We greet you, one-body. We are the Concert. We have examined your flesh-chemistry. And your fellow one-body. Drones will inspect her anatomy further. Deeper. We will inspect your consciousness.”
Her carrier—a Drone?—gently set Jenna down on the uneven floor. It lazily occurred to her just how tall the woman Zylian was; though she was the same proportions as a human, she was at eye level with the monstrous Drones. But she seemed to be poised atop some huge, fleshy mass, like a saddle or a throne.
No, she wasn’t sitting on it. She was it. Or it was her. The rest of her. From the waist down, the rest of this creature was a grub-like abdomen, the size of the orca whale Jenna saw at Sea World one summer. Its mottled bulk was curled nearly around the entire room, quivering in time with a slow beat. Rows of scrawny, vestigial legs, with no hope of ever moving such a body, curled up against the Queen’s sides, flexing occasionally. The only reason this room looked smaller than the last was because this single Zylian took up so much of it.
Though she felt no fear, there was another emotion welling up inside the honey-drunk human. It exuded from every surface in the room, and soaked into every pore on Jenna’s body: awe. An almost reverent adoration for this majestic being. This... this...
“Queen...”
The word slipped out of Jenna’s mouth without any input from her brain. The Drones chittered in excitement, and the Queen cocked her head.
“Your primary form of communication: air vibration? Unusual. Interpreters are one-body, but use telepathy. Demonstrate again. Use your vocal-vibrations. Create language-sounds.”
Even though the Queen was talking to her, and she understood the words, Jenna was too floaty and delirious to put any effort into parsing their meaning. She simply stared up at the creature, losing herself in the intricate movements of its antennae and the rhythmic twinkling of the color-scales on its exoskeleton. She’s so pretty...
A gentle mental prodding pulled Jenna’s attention away from the distracting stimuli. It was Uukati. The Concert has given you a directive. It would like for you to speak.
“Uh... uh, okaaay...” the addled human slurred. “B-buh wha sh’ld I... wha should I talk about?”
The Queen’s head tilted one way, then the other. “Slow. Prone to information loss. Misinterpretation. Inadequate for harmony.”
Jenna felt a pang of embarrassment. The Queen didn’t like her answer. She prided herself on her communication skills, trying her best to buck the dumb blonde stereotypes. But here she was, playing ambassador to a race of big bugs and sounding like a complete bimbo. “S-Sorry? It’s... it’s all we got... How do... how do you talk?”
The clicking add trilling that filled her ears became reassuring somehow. Jenna sighed and squirmed. God, they’re so patient with me. I wish I could focus. But I’m still... sooo horny...
“Many methods. Complimentary. But primarily pheromones. Message-fluid. More information-dense. When Drones leave nest, leave communication reach, they first consume. Motivation and coherence are maintained.
Chitinous plates parted on the front of the Queen’s abdomen, about where her crotch would be, if the creature had normal legs. The saccharine scent that assaulted Jenna was the most potent yet, as a prong of flesh emerged from the slit. It was inhuman, glistening with pungent secretions. Two Drones swept in, drooling and lapping at it, then backing away revealing a gooey, vermilion jelly oozing from the tip.
“Experience.”
Jenna was feeling so feverishly hot and achingly aroused that she instinctively rose to her unsteady feet and leaned toward the leaking rod. It was obvious what she was meant to do, even without the honey singing its instructions throughout her bloodstream. The swollen, pulsing shaft and its dizzying, tempting fluid called out to her. Pulled her closer. She couldn’t stop herself.
Despite her enthusiasm, it was a bit wider than anything else she had ever put in her mouth. The firm, chitinous hands of a Drone intertwined with her hair, tilted it back, and carefully pushed down. With a reflexive ease that she had never known before, Jenna relaxed, and took the shaft deep in her throat.
The jelly was denser than the honey, pumping into her stomach in viscous globs. It was also sweeter, if such a thing were possible, and more delicious than she could have imagined. Notes of strange fruit, spice and fermentation danced across her tongue and burned in her belly. It was so good. Nothing could compare to it. Not even air. She would drink until she drowned, if the Queen let her.
Another Drone knelt down behind Jenna, and prodded at her empty pussy with its proboscis. It was one that had licked the shaft first, and it smeared some of the jelly across her lower lips and clit, before plunging in. Jenna spread her legs and gave a muffled squeal of delight. Please! Do it! More!
The second orgasm came and went without much fanfare. Just some contractions in her core that Jenna barely noticed. It wasn’t really a release anyway. Just a small peak on the climb to even more building pleasure. But more than pleasure, the message-fluid contained knowledge.
A flood of insights crashed into the human’s consciousness, utterly overwhelming her. Every drop of it contained thoughts and moods and plans and sensory experiences. It brimmed with the Concert’s will. Jenna saw. She understood. All the other forms of communication, the postures and antennae dances and the clicking patterns and color displays, they were all just like millions of neurons firing signals back and forth across the brain to form a single thought. Like voices in a choir aligning and harmonizing in reaction to one another to form breathtaking music. And this jelly was the distillation of that entity’s will, concentrated and encoded in every molecule. Even the most confused and isolated Drone could be brought back into that harmony with just a single taste.
Or a human for that matter. Even though it wasn’t meant for her, Jenna could feel her brain changing. The jelly sizzled through her, spreading its knowledge to all the places that would accept it, and sculpting the places that couldn’t. The vast, alien mind was soaking into her cells, deepening her understanding with every passing second. There was no distinction between individuals, any more than Jenna would distinguish her organs from herself. Each had a purpose, but there was only truly one Zylian.
Many voices, one harmony. Many instruments, one Concert.
The Drone pulled Jenna’s head back and she only reluctantly parted with the Queen’s mighty scepter. A trickle of jelly rolled down her chin, and tears of joy ran down her cheeks. She felt so honored.
The Queen chittered her approval of Jenna’s cooperation, and scented the air with something akin to lilac. She leaned forward to curiously stroke Jenna’s face with her antennae and caressed her soft, honey-slicked flesh with four plated hands.
“You comprehend now. We are many-bodied. But a single mind.”
Her shell-hard fingertips stroked and groped Jenna’s bare breasts, tasting as much as feeling. The squeezes stung a little, like teasing pinches and love bites. So tingly, so sensitive.
“We do not understand. You cannot share full consciousness with language-sounds alone. You are one-bodied. Yet your kind form many-groups. Societies. Your Concert is ones-as-many. This is strange to us. Explain.”
Jenna perked up. This was why she was here. To teach them about humans. Among all the other messages, the jelly radiated the Concert’s curiosity about her, and her body responded with an eagerness to sate it.
“Uh, um...” She struggled against the thick honey-haze. Her own thoughts felt small compared to the wonderful buzzing of the Concert’s enormity in her mind. She had to chose them carefully if she wanted to please the Zylian. “You... you’re right. We live together, and work together. We... uh, cooperate to do things we couldn’t do alone. But we... we don’t know each other’s thoughts like you do.”
She frowned, finding a steadier voice even though she didn’t like the taste of the words. “We disagree. We act selfishly. We put ourselves ahead of others. We... we hurt each other.“
How sad humans must seem to the Zylian. How ignorant and petty they were in comparison to the perfectly harmonious Concert. How disappointing. That, more than anything, tightened her stomach into a knot. She was disappointing the Concert.
And yet she smelled another waft of lilac.
“Do not be distressed. We do not understand yet. But we are beginning. Are language-sounds the cause of this disharmony? Do you have other methods, like us?”
Other methods? Jenna pondered the question. How else did people communicate, besides speaking? “There’s, um, gestures and body language. There’s writing, but... there’s not much you get there that you can’t get by speaking. Oh, art! Like paintings and sculptures and all sorts of other stuff! And music!”
Jenna hummed a few bars of her favorite pop ballad. Her throat was sore from all the various things that had been forced down it since she’d come here, but getting the pitch just right wasn’t the point. It was about the feeling it gave her. The chatter among the Drones rose sharply.
“This is called ‘music?’” the Concert said. “Simple vibration frequencies, when produced in patterns, provokes emotional response. It intrigues us.”
A Drone entered the room at a brisk pace, clicking and tapping its pincers on the floor in excited rhythms. Without hesitation, it approached the Queen, and kissed her. It looked like a kiss to Jenna, anyway, with the way their mandibles twitched and their proboscises twirled around one another. It lasted only a couple seconds before the Drone retreated.
“Deeper inquiries into ‘music’ will occur later,“ the Zylian announced. “We have tasted you and your fellow one-body. Strong mating hormones in vascular channels. Present on outer membrane as well. Secondary information vectors? Tertiary?”
At a loss, Jenna blinked. “I... I don’t... what do you mean? Mating? Like... like sex?”
The alien royal only stared back at her, antennae sweeping back and forth, expectantly.
Was sex important for communication? Certainly Jenna had found the reverse was true, but could you really get to know someone just through sex? Sure, it was fun, but to really get into someone’s head you needed to get into long, deep conversations or read their diary. Didn’t you?
But the idea gained more and more traction the longer Jenna let it float around in her head. Those times when it was just Max and her, fucking like animals, cumming their brains out; wasn’t that when she felt closest to him? There would be directions and compliments sometimes, but mostly their bodies were just so in tune, no words were necessary. They were synced up, vulnerable and connected, trusting implicitly. Almost like they could read each other’s minds. I guess there must be a reason they call it “chemistry.”
“Uh, yeah. I guess sex can be a way to communicate. When two humans are in a relationship, they... they make love. They focus on each other’s pleasure. They let it... guide their bodies and bring them closer together.”
Am I even making sense? Do big alien bugs make love? Her words were failing her, but she tried to concentrate on a memory Max, and the way he made her feel. Hopefully Uukati could bridge the gap.
“Just for partners, though,” she added. “Not in, like, big groups. Unless you’re into that?”
The Queen tilted her head this way and that. Then she let out a sharp trill. Drones skittered forward on all sides, crowding around her and brandishing their chitin-plated claws.
“Demonstrate.”
“Uh, wha?” Jenna’s foggy mind stumbled; surely she’d misunderstood. But her body knew. The honey had primed it, told it what the Concert was interested in, and it was ready. So ready.
Her arms stretched out on their own, knowing that the hands were coming. Jenna gasped, half confused but entirely pliant as the Drones gripped her sides and under her armpits and thighs, lifted her as though she weighed nothing, and brought her face to face with the Queen. Below, more strong claws pulled her legs apart, positioning her over the Queen’s jelly-oozing protrusion. The human was sharply reminded of just how aroused she still was.
“Oh, oh my...” Jenna said, staring down at the glistening shaft, her voice wavering. She couldn’t. She couldn’t fuck this alien. She just couldn’t.
But she wanted to. She yearned to. The honey in her buzzed so joyously at the very thought. It was happening.
A delicate hand cupped her cheek, and the Queen brought her gaze back up to its lidless, iridescent eyes. Another hand grasped her breast. The third and fourth rested on Jenna’s hips. It was too much, too perfect. Gently, an inch at a time, the Drones lowered her down.
Her pussy, slick with honey-drool, royal jelly and her own juices, accepted the Queen eagerly. So deep, so full, Jenna couldn’t hold in the hoarse moan that welled up inside her. More moans followed, and she threw her arms around the Queen’s narrow waist, pulling herself in tightly. Her body responded automatically, rocking her hips back and forth, trying to coax even more of the Queen’s wonderful rod into her. It was difficult; the only purchase she had was the Drones’ hands supporting her. But she gave it her all.
As the moments crawled along, Jenna could feel the Queen pulsating inside her. Each time, a fresh load of jelly was pumped into her womb, until it overflowed and gushed out. Along with the gut-clenching pleasure, it forced new thoughts into her as well, new insights. They snapped into her mind with startling clarity.
The Zylian mated, but it didn’t make love. In expansion times, each Drone would bring its own shuffle of gametes to the Queen to produce offspring. No one ever disagreed, or fought, or was alone, or doubted their place. There was no jealousy. No envy. All of them worked together, in a beautiful, perfect, family-team-consciousness-unity. Everyone got a turn, and everyone knew the pleasure equally. Because everyone was everyone.
It wasn’t lovemaking. Even though the Concert could mate itself, please itself, grow and change itself, there was only one will, one mind. It didn’t comprehend the uncertainty of coming together with another person, a different entity, naked and exposed. All it knew was masturbation.
Jenna would show it. She would show the Concert what it was like to fuck.
The Drones read her body, and responded. Their hands aided her bucking, lifting and lowering in time with her gyrations. The touch of the message-fluid on Jenna’s deepest parts was mind-reeling in its intensity, but she pushed through it. It was all she could do not to get lost in the storm of instincts and sensations, urges and ideas. They roared through her like a hurricane, like a fever. It was all so much. Too much.
“Closeness during coitus...” The Queen caressed Jenna’s honey-glazed skin tenderly. “Unity of organs and genetics bridges the gap between their alone-thoughts? They mingle their message-fluid with gene-sharing? The soft, exterior membrane is reddening. Involuntary display? And the keratin strands on the head; decorative? Or an anchor point, for leverage during mating?”
The musings were idle clicks and semi-intentional gestures, faithfully translated by Uukati. Without fully realizing it, however, Jenna required less and less help to decipher them. If she weren’t so distracted by the vigorous fucking, she would notice how startlingly in tune she was with the Concert’s moods and intentions.
Such concerns were beyond her, however. “Ah! Yes! Fuck! Please!”
Everywhere the honey had touched was alive, on fire. From her sticky, tangled hair to her curling toes, Jenna was vibrating with ecstasy. The organ inside her pumped again, and her body quivered. Jelly splashed on the floor, and other Drones rushed down to lap it up. She sensed them too. What they were sharing, what they were learning. And the pleasure they were feeling. They shuddered and clenched. The Queen’s huge mass shook the room with its contractions. The Concert was cumming too.
This was harmony. This was perfect intimacy. Pleasure shared with all. For an infinitesimal moment, she touched the greater whole. She added her voice to the Concert. It was a truth too big to be held by a tiny, closed-off, isolated mind. Too powerful to be contained by her human limits.
Jenna’s third orgasm shattered her. At first she screamed, and then moaned, and then finally she only had the energy to whimper. Her arms and legs hung limp, quivering in time with the throbbing in her cunt as it clenched and milked the Queen’s cock-thing for all the jelly it would produce. Every last ounce of her strength went in to cumming, and even when that strength was gone, the climax didn’t abate.
Only the Queen’s eyes held her together, preventing the frail human from letting her consciousness slip away. Their unblinking stare held her fast amid the storm until it began to subside. She felt weightless in the aftermath, floating in pleasure more profound and fulfilling than any she’d ever experienced.
The horrific giant bugs, which should have made her cringe in disgust, now felt close to her in ways that she couldn’t express. The Queen retracted its shaft, and its four arms released her. Drones eased her down, cradling her in their arms. She felt probosces and antennae lapping at the pussy-juice soaking her inner thighs. She felt those thick, tubular tongues slurping over her honey-splattered flesh, cleaning most of it off. She was carried out of the chamber with the gentle, reverent care the Drones would show a Larva.
She was too spent to realize that even though she’d never heard of a Zylian Larva before.
“You have provided useful and thought-provoking knowledge to the Concert,” she heard as the Queen disappeared from view. “The Concert will honor the agreement... and not render you down for your nutritive value.”
Uukati swiftly broke the telepathic link with the human test subject. They certainly would honor the agreement! She was careful to keep her indignation to herself, though. No use causing an incident now, especially when the Concert sounded so pleased.
A few minutes later the doors slid open, and both subjects—nude save for their control collars, and drenched in Zylian nectar—awaited her in a cozy heap.
“Mmmrrrhhh?” Trish groaned as she stirred. “J-Jen... na?”
She coughed a little; her throat felt scratchy from all the thick, sticky honey she’d sucked out of... of... Her recollections of the past hour or so were hazy, but she was sore everywhere. And that meant everywhere.
Oh god, I did get probed after all...
“A-are... are you okay, Trish?” Jenna said. Her shaky legs managed to carry her over to her friend, and the two helped one another to their feet. Just the touch of sticky, hot skin against skin sent a strange shiver down Jenna’s spine, and she shook her head to get rid of it. There were more important things to worry about right now.
“Come on,” she said. “I think it’s over... for now.”
Indeed, Uukati affirmed, You will be sanitized and examined for injuries, and then returned to your companions. Please follow me.
The three made their way, slowly and leaving a trail of stickiness behind them, back toward where they began. As they neared the final door, the Researcher veered them toward another room first. It was octagonal, with the same smooth, white walls and grey, rubbery floor. Above, however, was a glassy, near-flat hemisphere stretching across the entire ceiling.
Please stand in the middle of the chamber, Uukati directed. The girls had no real reason to refuse, and were too exhausted for toothless defiance anyway.
A few seconds after they reached the center of the octagon, the hemisphere rippled. It was... water. Heavy droplets fell down onto and around the pair like a hot rain, as though the entire ceiling was one massive shower-head. The water was clear and pure, except for the faintly citrus scent of some kind of cleaning agent. It, along with the heat and moisture, immediately dissolved and rinsed off the Concert’s honey. The steamy, humid air filled with a heavenly, sweet scent as the soap mingled with the honey and the humans’ muskier notes. And at their feet, the squishy floor absorbed the water instantly, with no sign of a drain. It barely pattered and splashed before simply disappearing.
Uukati stayed outside of the downpour, directing the sanitizing process with dispassionate mental commands.
Ensure that you remove the... residue... from the Concert’s research. Be thorough. Once you are sanitized, I will perform an examination.
Trish shot a glance over her shoulder at the alien, and drew closer to Jenna.
A cursory, exterior examination, Uukati clarified. She adopted a passive pose while she observed. Proceed.
The two obeyed, finding themselves grateful for the simple comfort of a hot shower. For a semblance of modesty, the two wordlessly decided to face away from one another. Trish stole a few glances anyway. She’d have stolen more, but she kept one eye on the alien in the corner. Even that concern couldn’t keep her from sighing, however, as she washed her sensitive skin. The water was relaxing, rejuvenating, and almost enough to make them forget what they had both just been through.
Since leaving the laboratory-nest, the afterglow of Jenna’s encounter had bled away, leaving her feeling empty, dissociated. Her consciousness had been forced to stretch for her perceive the Concert’s full magnificence, and now that it was gone, there was too much space in her skull, and not enough Jenna to fill it. The shower was helping her feel more like herself again, but she was still washing mostly on auto-pilot.
With eyes closed, her hands wandered over her shoulders, across her breasts, and down her stomach. She was warm and safe now, free to let her tired mind wander. The patter of water hitting the rubbery floor was almost like the clicking of mandibles. A flash of chitinous claws. The tickle of phantom antennae. A soft moan escaped her, muffled by the noise of the shower. Her fingers crept lower.
“Hey, uh Jen?” Trish ventured over her shoulder. Despite her marathon fatigue, her cheeky, frisky spirit shone through. “You need me to, uh... wash your back? Or... maybe your front?”
Jenna’s eyes flew open, and her hand jerked away from her crotch. “Yes!” she yelped, without really thinking. Trish had been flirting and coming on to Jenna—and Jenna had been turning her down with a quip and a smile—for their entire friendship. It was an inside joke by now. The offer was comforting in a way, like a reminder of home, of a time before all... this. But she didn’t really mean to say yes.
Did I?
The stunned silence behind her didn’t help her decide.
“Sure,” Jenna repeated, with a confidence she didn’t quite feel. “I... I mean, if you want to.”
Trish laughed so hard she snorted, even as she spun around. “Now I know this is all a dr-HolyshitJenna! What happened to you?“
The Jenna standing in front of her, clean of honey and wreathed in fragrant steam, was not the Jenna that had walked into that spooky alien hive with Trish. Sure, she was still Jenna, but she was different. Changed. Her golden hair, even wet, shimmered with a silky, lustrous shine. Her skin was soft, smooth, without blemish, tempting Trish’s fingers to touch, to graze and caress.
And her body. Jumping-space-alien-Jesus, her body. Before, Jenna had been a bombshell, but now? Was there even a word for her now? Not in English. Maybe German? “Sexbombe?” Trish had leaned that one on a puerile skim through a translation book once, and it fit the vision before her perfectly. Jenna’s hips were subtly wider, and her tits were not-so subtly bigger, and her everything was unmistakably firmer and perkier. She was sex on legs. Long, smooth legs.
Did they photoshop her? Is it possible to airbrush someone in real life? Trish stepped forward, beckoned by the siren song of Jenna’s wet, perfected body. It was just like her fantasy of Jenna, the one where they were alone in a gym shower, and one thing led to another. To be fair though, it wasn’t her only fantasy of Jenna. No matter where it happened, if the day came that Jenna succumbed to her wiles, Trish would have already fantasized about it.
And it was happening. It was finally happening. Jenna was letting it happen. From the look on her face, she wanted this to happen.
“Ooooh.... oh, god, Jenna... you’re so fucking beautiful...” She pressed her warm, soap-slicked body against Jenna’s and pulled her friend into a tight embrace. Trish moaned softly as she felt their warm bodies slip and slide and smush together. Hands roaming, lips grazing, backs arching. She pressed her nose into the nape of Jenna’s neck and inhaled deeply.
Honey. They had washed it all off, but Jenna still smelled like that sweet, dizzying, aphrodisiac honey.
Half-formed images and fragments of stimulation exploded into her imagination, triggered by the sense-memory. Dim light. Inhuman chatter. Throat full. Pussy so full. And honey. Everywhere, honey. On her tongue. In her hair and ears and eyes. Making her so aroused. Overwhelming her. Drowning her.
“Jenna... uh...” She pushed away, biting her lip. She hesitated, afraid of spoiling the sexiness of the moment, this moment she had imagined for so long. But she had to ask. She had to confess.
“I dunno what they did with you, but those bugs, they... they fed me that sweet stuff, and they... they licked me, and groped me, and I... ah... I...”
She trembled before Jenna, feeling a rare surge of shame. Trish had promised herself when she’d decided to come out that she’d never feel ashamed of who she was ever again. But now...
“Oh fuck, Jenna... it made me cum! It made me cum so hard! I was scared, but that h-honey got me really horny, and they were in my m-mouth and my p-pussy...“
Despite the humiliation, she couldn’t bear to be apart any longer. She squeezed Jenna tight, and let out a pitiful, guilty whimper.
“Those bugs... those big, fucked-up looking bugs... fuck, I got off so many times. I feel like such a f-freak... I couldn’t stop... Why couldn’t I s-stop?“
The taller woman pressed Trish’s head to her collarbone in a soothing, almost maternal embrace.
“It’s okay, Trish,” Jenna said softly, rocking her friend back and forth. Every shudder of Trish’s body, every quiver of her lip and crack of her voice, Jenna read them all like lines on a page. The scent of her skin and the taste of her saliva spoke volumes too. Fear. Confusion. The Drones and honey had given her so much pleasure, but Trish hadn’t been given the benefit of the Concert’s guidance. She hadn’t tasted the royal jelly.
“I know,” she continued, whispering just above the din of the falling water, “I felt it too. You’re not a freak. It’s okay to feel the way you did. The Conc... Those bugs... they showed me things. Powerful things. Wonderful things.”
Jenna planted a kiss on Trish’s head. The buzzing was back, that incredible, tingly hum she relished. It filled Jenna with a craving to connect, to come together in mind and body and show her friend that she was cared for, that Jenna understood. All the reasons not to do it, to hold back—that they’d been kidnapped for some science experiment, that an alien was watching them right now, that Jenna was straight—all melted away before that primal need.
This was right. Trish needed this. They both needed this.
“Please,” Jenna said, lifting up the shorter girl’s chin, “let me show you.”
Trish didn’t expect the sudden intensity of Jenna’s kiss, or the sensuality of her touch. When she had popped the sapphic cherries of “straight” girls in the past, there was always some uncertainty, or some performative element. A remarkable amount of her first kisses were to score free drinks. This was different. Jenna radiated certainty, and empathy. Even in her most romantic, hormonal, post-breakup fantasies, her imaginary soul mate didn’t accept and cherish Trish as much as Jenna did right now.
“J-Jenna... Mmmhhh...”
Trish felt one leg raise a little behind her as she pushed into the kiss; she half expected music to play. Naked or not, the shower made it feel like the rainy climax of a schmaltzy romance film. She only stopped when the water stopped flowing.
“W-Wow...” she whispered as she wiped shower-water and definitely nothing else from her eyes. “Jenna... I...”
She struggled to put words to her feelings, but gave up. Not because it was difficult or awkward, but because what was the point? Anything that she might try to say, Jenna already knew. Trish didn’t know how, but she knew that Jenna just... knew. Everything was going to be okay.
Jenna smiled down, angelic, radiant, like a saint. Though maybe the saint of porn stars. But, like, the classy kind.
Then Uukati appeared beside them, and the spell was broken.
Stand up straight with your feet shoulder width apart and your arms limp by your sides. The examination will not take long.
Trish started, nearly jumping into the air. She looked to Jenna, who, to her surprise, instantly complied.
“It’s okay,” the blonde said, watching the alien without any distrust. “I’ve got a good feeling about her.”
Before, the Researcher’s body language had felt uncanny. Alien, for lack of a better word. But now Jenna was recognizing the nuances of it, and all she could detect from her captor was an earnest curiosity and concern. Besides, it felt good to be helpful, to be of service. To be part of something bigger, in some small way.
Please let me know if you experience any discomfort.
Uukati proceeded to press and squeeze Jenna’s wet flesh with cool, long-fingered hands, palpating for bruises and examining for cuts or scrapes. All the while, she ruminated over what she had just witnessed. Even now, the other human’s emotions were still turbulent, if not quite the anguish of a few short minutes ago. Their kind craved togetherness and understanding just as most sentient, social species, but were tragically deaf and dumb to it, compared to the Interpreters. For Uukati, that kind of communion was effortless, casual even, if she had a companion to join with.
The Concert had changed the one human, that much was clear. Visibly, she was different, though her fellow’s reaction had provided insightful context for just how much. Even deeper, Uukati could sense new thought processes and perception patterns when she peered into the human’s mind. Exposure to so much concentrated Zylian pheromones had radically altered her neurology and biochemistry in ways the Researcher could scarcely begin to predict.
She would have to bring the matter before the Overseer. He would know how to proceed.
The one determination Uukati could make with confidence from the current display was a new, heightened responsiveness by the taller human to the emotional state of her friend. Her use of physical contact, to the Interpreter’s telepathic senses, had brought them together. Truly together.
Watching the humans share that level of understanding, usually denied them by their lack of the Gift, was... moving. Like watching a former cripple, now healed, take their first, faltering step. The sentiment of the moment overwhelmed her professionalism, and a thought slipped out into the public mindscape.
Such beautiful creatures...
Uukati’s hands froze the instant she realized her lapse.
Jenna smiled. “Mmm... thanks. I guess.” Any notion of disgust or horror she might have had earlier at the prospect of a touchy, full-body examination by her alien captors was gone. Instead, she was getting turned on by it. Or she was still really turned on in general. Either way, she basked in the feeling until Uukati finished.
You are... undamaged, the Researcher finally concluded.
Trish, however, was not convinced. When her turn came, the athlete stepped back. Uukati was still an alien, still their abductor, and as far as Trish was concerned, still probably going to push something phallic up her ass at some point. And now she wanted to start a harmless, handsy “medical exam?”
“Nope. Na ah. No thanks.”
Please, try to relax. You are in no danger, Uukati insisted firmly. She stepped forward, reaching out, and the girl’s thoughts churned between fear and... excitement. It would be a trifle to activate the female’s collar and carry on while she was pacified, but it would also preclude any additional study of the humans’ interactions. However... if she enlisted the other human, it might present more opportunities to collect data.
Jenna Miller, she sent privately, your friend is feeling quite anxious, and it is making her uncooperative. Could you please continue to console her?
A shiver ran down Jenna’s spine. I... um, sure? I-I mean yes, yes I’ll calm her down. Before she’d even finished agreeing, her body moved on its own, knowing exactly how it could help. Jenna approached, putting one hand behind her friend’s head, guiding it down, and another on her firm, round breast, pushing it up. It wasn’t even until she’d already started moving that Jenna realized there was a tiny droplet of something on her nipple, and it wasn’t water. It was sweet, and a little sticky, and Jenna instinctively knew it would make Trish feel better.
Trish ended up sandwiched, with the graceful alien on one side, trying to grab her, and Jenna on the other, coaxing her down to...
“B-But I... She’s... Jenna? Wha-mmmmhh...”
Trish sagged into Jenna’s arms, her eyelids drooping and her puckered mouth forming a dreamy grin as she suckled. It never occurred to her to wonder why Jenna was suddenly lactating. She just drank. The taste of alien honey was there, stronger than ever, but the fear never followed. It was smothered by the creamy flavor of Jenna’s tenderness. In seconds she was set adrift, in an ocean of warmth and euphoria where nothing else mattered but the nipple between her lips and the wonderful woman attached to it.
The sensation drew a gasp from Jenna, followed by husky whimpers and coos of encouragement. Nursing was a new, peculiar feeling. Her nipples were more sensitive than they had ever been before. Each time Trish sucked, an electric surge shot straight to her clit. It was all she could do to keep her knees from buckling and sending the two of them tumbling to the floor. Mouthful after mouthful of sweet, golden milk disappeared down Trish’s throat, from one breast to the other, soothing her distress. Nurturing her. Healing her.
Jenna knew this was good. This was right. And Trish was in no state to disagree.
Uukati carried out the physical exam on Trish unimpeded. It had not been exactly the aid she had envisioned, but there was no disputing its efficacy. The shorter female was so relaxed now, it was a wonder she was even still standing. And the peaceful pleasure she radiated bordered on the narcotic, so deep that Uukati had to pull her senses away, lest she be dragged into its alluring gravitational pull.
You... have also suffered no notable injuries. Thank you for your... cooperation.
As much as Uukati was tempted to... study the pair further, there was other work to be done.
Take a moment to compose yourselves. Once you have done so, you will follow me back to your quarters. When your core temperature lowers, your coverings will reappear.
In a matter of seconds, the water in the room evaporated. A few moments later, the humidity went to zero, and the air reached a cooler, neutral temperature. Though it wasn’t cold, the sudden change elicited a shiver from the humans, and Trish reluctantly unlatched from Jenna. They found themselves wishing for their long-shredded jumpsuits, and wondering what the Researcher meant.
No sooner did they think the question than their metal collars grew warm. Trish looked at Jenna, and saw the band around her friend’s neck glowing with a silver light. A row of shimmering hexagons appeared below the collar, growing rapidly until their edges met, perfectly interlocking into a single surface. Then another row appeared, and another, sweeping over Jenna’s bare skin like a wave. Trish felt them on her own body, like a static charge flowing out from her neck down to her ankles. And just a moment after they appeared, each row cooled, becoming the same grey, rubbery material that had covered them earlier. Looking down at herself, Trish watched the the suit re-materialize out of thin air, hugging her physique as if the bugs had never torn it apart in the first place.
“Whoa...” she sighed. It was about the most coherent observation she was capable of at the moment.
“Uh... yeah,” Jenna echoed. She filled out her suit even better this time, if such a thing were possible. “Let’s go. I bet the others are getting worried.”
On wobbly legs, the two followed Uukati across the hall, Jenna leading her dazed and placid friend by the hand. The deep beeping tone sounded before the wall-door retracted, and it startled everyone inside. The Researcher didn’t follow past the threshold.
All things considered, Lin, Ben, Sophie and Max had been pretty bored while they waited. Worried, to be sure, but with nothing to do about it. Nervous excitement surged up as their friends returned.
The first round of study has gone well, Uukati announced. To ease any discomfort during your detention, you will be provided a space for refreshment and hygiene.
The far wall of the common room opposite her opened into something not unlike a bathroom. There were toilet-ish appliances, a smaller version of the shower-esque space that Jenna and Trish had shared, and a constantly flowing water-source that seemed to mingle sink, fountain perhaps some other indeterminable functions.
Through your cooperation, you have proven—and can continue to prove—that you can be trusted with these amenities.
She mentally consulted the carefully planned schedule, and the requests submitted by the Coalition’s other representatives. The Twenty-Eight had requested the male with the darker complexion.
You, she said, gesturing to Ben, will be next.