“She’ll be waiting for us,” Jago said to Kriss as they hurried along the path. Jago’s strides easily outpaced the slightly shorter Kriss; however, Kriss was used to keeping up. The pair were rarely apart.
Kriss smiled in response and they strode to the entrance of their home, a spacious habitat by the Endless Lake. Jago reached the door first. It opened with a whoosh, the familiar breeze of conditioned air so unlike the heavy humidity outside.
She was waiting exactly where he hoped she’d be—opposite the door and naked. Painted toenails; he’d never seen such a thing. Her feet were planted neatly together, her chin was lowered and her hands were behind her back. Loops of hair licked around her oval face and although her eyes weren’t visible, she had a straight nose with a slightly raised tip. She tapered at the waist, then out again; she wasn’t lacking in fullness around the hips and was most pleasing to the eye. What delighted him the most was the rise and fall of her breasts. She was breathing, and fast, too.
When the door closed behind them, she spoke.
“Masters. I welcome you home.” She had a high voice, but not shrill or squeaky. It had a melodic edge to it, rather than metallic or artificial—such a contrast to their customary greeting.
Jago beamed at Kriss. “She’s real, isn’t she?”
“Unbelievable. I never thought this day would come when we’d have a real girl in our home.”
Jago waved her over to them and she walked on tiptoes until she halted an arms’ length away.
“Shayla, isn’t it?” Jago asked. “Your given name.”
She nodded. “Yes, sir. The name given at birth.”
“She was born. Amazing,” Kriss exclaimed. “Not hatched.”
Her cheeks blushed. “I was birthed by my mother.”
Jago reached out and lifted her chin with his fingertip. “You know that we are incubated in nests, don’t you? They taught you that on Earth?”
“Yes, sir. I listened carefully during the lectures. I studied the scrolls of Hezara.” She spoke so softly, Jago had to tilt his head to hear. She was timid. A natural behavior, not programmed, unlike the sexdroids whom they usually fucked.
“Then you understand that Kriss and I came from the same nest. We hatched on the same day and consequently, we are heart twins—nestors. What one loves, so does the other.” He and Kriss had been raised and trained together, never separated at any time for more than a few days.
“Yes, sir,” she whispered. “Heart twins.”
Jago slid his finger along her neckline, down past her proud collarbone and across the warmth of her breast. Her nipple stiffened and turned damson. The rise and fall of her breasts intensified as she snatched a breath. He lifted the nipple with the knuckle of his forefinger.
“Smooth skin,” he commented to Kriss. “Touch her.”
Kriss followed the same path from neck to nipple with his own finger. “These are natural breasts.”
Jago cupped one, spanning his fingers around the roundness and gave it a gentle squeeze. Shayla released a tiny moan. Kriss followed his lead. He, too, circled a breast and embraced it in his palm.
“The sexdroids just don’t feel like this,” Kriss remarked.
Jago agreed. The manufactured droids—artificial constructs sheathed in cloned skin and flesh—were a poor substitute for a real woman, especially an Earthling. The men of Hezara sought out many lifeforms to satisfy their urges, but until they discovered Earth, few had managed to fulfill their wishes. To cope with their demands, the Junta, the ruling body of Hezaran men, had ordered an army of sexdroids to be built and those so-called women provided some relief while scouts hunted for new females on other worlds.
As for natural reproduction, it was incredible to think that Earthlings used sex as a means to procreate. Hezara built their nests—high-tech incubators in secret vaults—and utilized the queens to fertilize each progeny without the female donor ever having to leave the confines of the incubator hub. The queens were considered too precious to live freely or be touched by anyone other than the procreation experts. Beyond the breeding center, females had become unnecessary, so history had taught the men of Hezara, but centuries later, the battle-hardened warriors had come to miss the pleasure of females in their lives. The Hunger had grown stronger with each generation. What had once happened with each passing of the moon was becoming more frequent and time-consuming. The Junta could no longer hide the problem of the Hunger.
Every ten days, Jago was overwhelmed by the urge to spawn his life force, his seed. His muscles strengthened and bulged, his heart roared with pounding beats until it was visible through his chest, and his cock would thicken and stay stiff for hours and hours. Kriss, being his nestor, followed the same pattern of days, and together they reached the Hunger and performed the rites. One day out of ten was sacrificed to the Hunger.
Their next Hunger was due in six days. Six days to decide whether Shayla could survive the demands of it.
Jago’s finger continued to trail down her flat belly. Shayla’s skin rippled with goosebumps.
“You’re not cold, are you?” he asked.
“No, sir.” Her cheeks flushed brighter. Was that a lie? Were humans prone to faking? Something was making her quiver. How easy would it be to tell if a human lied? The women were trained, not programmed, which meant they had the potential to exhibit the wrong output. Sexdroids rarely broke down and were easily reprogrammed.
Kriss’s hand chose a different route. He moved to stand behind her and his hand skated down her spine toward her furrow.
“Plump ass. Lovely curves,” he noted.
“Spread your legs, Shayla,” Jago said.
She swayed and slid her feet apart.
“Bend over, so Kriss can see.” Jago looped his hand around her neck and angled her head down. She folded over without resistance. “Good?” he asked Kriss.
“Open. Pink with the flow of blood.” Kriss crouched down to inspect her closer. “Folds are smooth. Come see for yourself. She’s remarkable.”
The young, plainly virile woman sucked a breath of air in and steadied herself. She said nothing. If she felt humiliated by their intimate examination, she shouldn’t be. They’d claimed her when they accepted the Gift; he and Kriss had full access to her.
Kriss held her ample buttocks apart and Jago leaned toward her ass to see her opening.
“This wetness is natural.” Jago noted the sheen covering her outer sex lips. “It needs to be there to ensure she can accommodate our cocks.”
“So I gather. I’m just so excited that she needs to be stretched. When I think of those sexdroids, having to specify our cock sizes so that they fit, it’s amazing to think this creature will perform that task naturally.”
“Indeed, although her asshole will need to be treated carefully.”
Her legs were shaking, and she gripped her ankles tighter.
“Such a gift,” Kriss exclaimed as he rose. “To think we’ve been honored to have an Earthling.”
Jago slapped his nestor on his back. “We’ve earned it. We’ve led combat units into six worlds and taken a few wounds as a result. We’ve been due this for a while.” He tapped the girl’s back. “Stand, Shayla.”
She returned to her previous position—upright, head bowed, and hands behind her back.
“Keep your knees apart at all times,” he reminded her.
She shuffled her feet until her thighs separated.
“Good,” he said.
Earth, the barbaric planet, was required to send a steady flow of females and in return, Hezara provided protection from the Violence that stalked the galaxy. They sheathed the little planet with a force field and their vast space station orbited the planet, monitoring the space channels for any incoming threats, especially the Beasts that orchestrated the Violence. Since Hezara had discovered Earth, effectively overpowering it with their might, they’d left humans to their own devices. The planet had plenty wrong with it and interfering was unnecessary. All Hezarans needed were females.
To accommodate the wishes of Hezara, the leaders of Earth had decided that gifting their women was the best approach rather than having them abducted. If Hezara left them alone then what price was a few thousand women every year to pay for Earth’s protection? They were carefully selected, educated, and trained to be as perfect as possible, then in an elaborate ceremony, the naked women were handed over, sent to the space station, and from there distributed to the farthest reaches of the galaxy. So few in numbers compared to the men of Hezara—one real woman for every thousand men. They were a prized possession and valued as a luxurious commodity and without them, men had to satisfy their Hunger with sexdroids. Droids were hardly comparable, said the lucky few who’d experienced the difference.
“You understand what is to happen to you?” Jago asked.
“Yes, sir,” Shayla said.
“Then tell me.”
“I am to assist you with the Hunger and ensure your happiness.”
“I must obey your wishes, temper my own desires, bring to you the best of me. On that day, I must join with you and your nestor for as long as it takes to satisfy the Hunger within you. Then, it is my day of rest and we begin again. Every ten days.”
She spoke the rote with a practiced ease. Well-trained. A good start.
Jago noted the sheen that had slithered down her inner thighs—it glistened, the wetness she produced so readily. It meant the very thought of the Hunger excited her. His cock stiffened too. Kriss had a huge bulge in his pants.
“If you are able to match us, you will travel wherever we go until we deem you unneeded.” Jago wanted that to be as long as possible.
Kriss smiled, seeming to mirror Jago’s imaginative thoughts.
Jago hardened his expression. “There is one more matter, Shayla. Tell me, what happens when you disobey us?”
She stiffened, and her nipples grew even more prominent. “I’m punished.”
“Would you disobey us?”
She paused before answering, perhaps a few seconds and she quickly licked her lips. “Never.”
Jago turned to Kriss. His nestor hadn’t picked up on the hesitation. Kriss was not as astute in the nuances of human behavior, but Jago had definitely heard the delay. So, she wasn’t quite as perfect as he’d been promised. Did it matter? Probably not. He was tired of the false pleasantries of the sexdroid and a little feistiness would suit him fine. Kriss on the other hand would expect perfect obedience and would likely want to correct her for the slightest infraction.
The pair of them would work well together. Kriss would ensure Shayla settled into her role with discipline and Jago would apply a more measured approach. Strict, but caring.
“Good,” Jago said. “Have you familiarized yourself with our habitat?”
“Yes, sir. It is very nice here. I like the view.”
“One of the best in the city,” Kriss declared proudly. “You’ll find it very soothing during your meditations.”
She nodded, her confidence growing. “I will, I’m sure.”
Jago took her hand and wrapped his around it. She was trembling. He gave it a squeeze. “Are you ready?”
“Then let’s begin.”
Shayla knelt. “How may I serve you, Masters?”
Three years earlier…
Shayla Tesser’s new life as a Gift began when the Committee for Interspecies Governance selected her from a list of suitable contenders. She never asked to be on the list, and the day they knocked on the door and demanded that she attend the academy she knew that things would never be the same again. Their decision was sacrosanct and anyone’s attempt at changing or interfering with it meant a costly penalty.
There was no coercion, no forced kidnapping, but the arrival of several people at her home, the stern expressions and reminders of the shame of refusing left her with little choice but to go with them. There was no manhandling or cuffs, but nobody left her alone, just in case she attempted to leave. For the first few days, she was in state of confusion and shock. Passed from one interviewer to another, questioned, poked and prodded about anything to do with her sexuality, her previous lovers, who had been nothing more than kisses and cuddles on the couch, she realized she had deeper desires that she’d kept hidden.
On the last day of her appraisal, she was brought before the committee and told to strip naked. The spotlights above her head dazzled and hid their faces, only their voices echoed around the chamber. She fumbled with her rudimentary clothing—she’d been denied underwear. Chasing away the nerves, she dug deep into her resolve. There was no escape, nowhere to go that didn’t involve worse embarrassment. A rejected Gift would mean a badge of dishonor and poor prospects. To help prepare herself, she imagined the invisible committee were hot-blooded men with big appetites for her flesh, and the ridiculous daydream quickened her heart and brought a wave of tingles down her spine. She tossed aside her clothing and stood before them with her hands by her sides. For a few seconds, the silence dragged on until one man spoke.
“Beautiful. She’ll serve us well. She is a good example of the perfect Gift.”
The relief of passing the inspection surprised her. It had to mean she wanted this opportunity to escape her unexciting life, even if she had to submit to humiliating training. In a matter of days, those anonymous faces had taken an innocent woman and awoken something inside her. What that was would unfold in the coming years.
From then on, she was kept in a protective bubble and apart from others. She underwent the necessary specialist training at the academy and became something of a celebrity. She spoke to the mass media of Earth, promising them she would perform her duties to the highest standards. From across the globe people sent their congratulations and well-wishes. The attention at first was a boost, but as the day of her departure approached, the constant stream of interviews and ceremonies started to impact her nerves.
Shayla wasn’t a normal woman with a normal life; she’d been tutored by many surrogates in a cocoon designed to nurture her strengths and discourage her weaknesses. The goal was to prepare her for the Hunger-driven men of Hezara. Part of her was curious—what exactly they would demand from her? There was another part of her that she kept hidden, one that harbored the niggling doubts that haunted her dreams and required hours of meditation to tame.
The secretive training was devoted to the art of sexual pleasure, and in particular style practiced by the men of Hezara. Most of it was conducted through the use of virtual reality environments. She learned their language and rituals including the bizarre concept of nestors who shared everything without jealousy. The virtual world felt real enough, but it wasn’t really; she knew that reality would offer different sensations and emotions. Her mother, who’d disappeared out of her life with another man when she was small, contacted her once to claim Shayla was the victim of brainwashing. Shayla never heard a peep from her after that and wondered if she’d been arrested for subverting the law that strictly prohibited criticizing Hezara.
Fortunately, although criticism was forbidden, curiosity was allowed.
“They’ll spank you,” said her favorite tutor. Alfraya had warned her during one of her early sessions on sexual behavior, and not long after she joined the academy at eighteen. “Expect to be spanked regularly for the slightest error. They are exacting men who firmly believe in correction.”
“On my bottom?” Shayla asked.
“Yes. Of course since you are naked all the time, it will be bare bottomed.”
Shayla’s jaw dropped. “Won’t it hurt?”
Alfraya lifted Shayla’s chin and patted her hand in an almost reassuring manner. “Naturally. It’s supposed to hurt, but they won’t harm you. Remember, Gifts are returned to Earth once they are retired by Hezara and the knowledge they bring back is crucial to the next generation of Gifts. So, don’t fret, spanking will cause you discomfort but no lasting impediments. They will also punish you in other ways that you may find challenging but not impossible to bear.”
“Challenging.” Shayla swallowed hard. “Do you know exactly what they might do?”
“Oh, dear girl. Of course. I am after all a returned Gift.” She said this with a gleeful smile as if the accolade was a medal around her neck.
Shayla discovered many of her tutors had once been gifted. Not all women returned when they retired, some chose to live out their lives on distant planets, where they were treated kindly, but generally ignored as unwanted reminders of Hezara’s dependence on the females of other species. The tutors were surprisingly coy about their specific treatment, citing their need to honor privacy agreements with Hezara. However, Alfraya was quite open about her life there.
“Spanked. Anal sex. Insertion of stimulating devices. Orgasm denial. These are many ways you might be tamed. My advice, young Shayla, do not disobey these men. And if you do, accept their punishment with dignity. They will respect you for that. Be demure and submissive in all things. Never question their authority.”
There was so much to take in about these strange aliens. Some days Shayla felt completely overwhelmed with her responsibilities, other times, thrilled at the idea of adventure, even if she’d had little involvement in its planning. She’d no clue when drafted into the academy that Hezara were archaic in their attitudes to women and dependent on base desires, and yet also advanced beyond Earth’s imagination when it came to technology and military accomplishments. Whenever she purred with excitement at the thought of traveling to the other side of the galaxy, Alfraya brought her crashing back down with some nuanced piece of information. There were things Shayla had come to accept as okay, perhaps pleasant if done well, but denial and spankings were not on her wish list. She needed to know more; she could be terribly nosey when she put her mind to it.
“They won’t harm me?” she asked.
“They seem incapable of harm when it comes to human women. You see, my dear, you are too precious to them. Without you, they must force the Hunger from their bodies with sexdroids and those robots are not satisfying these men. Their functionality is limited, and not all men have access to them, and only a handful are granted Gifts. You will be treated well, but also controlled in every possible way to keep you safe and secure in their habitats and jealously guarded. Very possessive, these Hezara men. One might say it is a weakness.” Alfraya lowered her voice. “Don’t ignore their weaknesses. There are some who wish to know more about them.”
“Who wants to know?” Shayla asked.
Alfraya pressed her finger to Shayla’s lips. “Somebody will contact you.”
In the weeks before her departure, covert operators whispered to her during secret meetings; they wanted her to find out about the queens.
“It’s their biggest problem,” one creepy man with a lopsided face told her. “Hezara rely on a relatively small number of females to reproduce and the shrinkage of their genetic pool is forcing them into this Hunger. We, the Earth’s Resistance, believe that if we can threaten their incubators, then they will give us greater freedom.”
“Freedom from what?” she asked. Such insurrection was dangerous, but she’d agreed to meet them because Alfraya had insisted and she trusted her friend.
“This oppression, the claim that gifting of our women will protect us.”
“But, don’t they protect us from the Violence?” Shayla wrung her hands into a knot. Something about her mother’s warning and her father’s own opinions had given Shayla the confidence to break with protocols and meet the Rogues, as they were called by the Earth’s Supreme Authority. She’d not anticipated how many people were out there willing to risk their lives to speak to her.
“The Violence,” said the lopsided man, who had come with a companion who scowled throughout and kept glancing over his shoulder—they’d met in the middle of the night in an abandoned basketball court. “What Violence? We have only their word that the galaxy is a dangerous place. They need us more than we need them. Gifts! What happens is a mockery of that word.”
She mentioned her eminent father, but the Rogues disagreed with what he preached.
“Your father is wrong. There will never be integration and we will slowly be subjugated until all our women are theirs. To protect ourselves, we must understand more about their nests and incubators, the queens. These aliens aren’t going to love you, treat you with respect. They see you for one purpose only. Fucking. They’re addicted to fucking.”
That last word had made her uncomfortable. It was strictly forbidden in the academy to talk about ‘fucking’ and any other vulgar term for copulation. As far as Shayla had been taught, pleasuring was an art and required specialist physical stamina and mindfulness. Hence her daily requirement to meditate.
She said her goodbyes—to her fellow trainees, who looked on with both envy and delight at her achievement, the dedicated team who’d tutored her at the academy, and Earth, the planet she’d called home since birth. As for her mother, Shayla had long ago accepted that relationship was a distant memory. Her birth father, a pioneering advocate of interspecies relationships, had maintained a cursory interest in her life, and only during her last days on Earth had he approached her to give advice. Like her mother, he’d not been happy that she’d been selected, but what could he do when nobody was allowed to criticize the system. He hoped for a different future, where choice played a greater role.
Her father believed the Hezarans should consider breeding with humans and ultimately create equality between two species. He even spoke of the potential for life partners, which was something the men of Hezara claimed they never needed.
“The Hunger,” he told her during their brief farewell meeting, “is symptomatic of a greater need that goes beyond sexual appetites. You, Shayla, and all the other women we’ve sent in the past, are slowly awakening them to other desires, and possibly other solutions. This is your true mission. Conquer their hearts and we will achieve integration.”
So what was her true mission? Was it to rescue aliens from the agony of the Hunger? Just that—to find love with Hezarans and convince them to be equals, as her father wished? Or was it to uncover the secrets of their nests and queens, and spy?
Before she left Earth, she’d made up her mind. She chose to find out about the queens because they must be like her, special and privileged. She had to find out why only a few females existed in the world of Hezara. As for love, the notion was ludicrous given her status.
From Earth she was sent to Alphabase—the superstructure orbiting the Earth—where scanners examined her anatomy and proved her to be genuine. Rumors always spread that rebellious Earthlings would send cyborgs instead of living beings. She sailed serenely through the inspections and questionings, determined not to reveal anything about her true mission.
The next stage of her journey propelled her through outer space, across the expanse of the galaxy through wormholes and other methods that she didn’t understand, until she arrived at Odesta—a watery planet and fortunately for her, one of the few Hezara planets to have a reproducing queen.
There was an incubator somewhere. How would she find it?
Nobody had told her a thing, especially her chaperone who’d kept her company throughout her journey across the stars. A narrow man with no hair and a missing eye, who although kind, had not shared any useful information with her. She deduced he had been ill, and given that sickness was deemed a weakness, he probably had been given the role as it required no contact with her. He was very hands off and nervous about touching her, as if he might contaminate her.
After the transporter had touched down that morning, the bald man told her she was promised to the twins. He provided her with their names and descriptions, but little other information. She was fortunate that Jago and Kriss were twins, and not triplets or even quads. Alfraya had pointed out during a matter-of-fact briefing that twins would take turns, and if they did work together, it was no hardship having one plug her ass with his cock while the other used her other hole. Alfraya had added that triplets were generally workable, but things became complicated with quads, or the even rarer quins.
“Stamina, of course is an issue. And double penetrations… don’t go so pale, Shayla. I did say extremely rare.” To have been given to heart quads would have truly tested Shayla’s abilities. So, she expected she could manage twins. She took some comfort from one of Alfraya’s parting comments. “The oracle will advise them. It has amassed a huge amount of knowledge on humans and our sensory system. They will find other ways to keep you occupied that will be… enjoyable.” Alfraya had smiled, which was a rare thing.
Her escort—two military droids—transported her to her new home, which was by the edge of a great blue lake. There were many houses like it, lining the hillsides and beyond. The interior was minimalist, clean, vast, and with the exception of the bathroom, there was just one chamber. The curvature of the building accommodated a glass wall—all Hezara homes were crescent shaped and without angles. Beyond the glass, the lake stretched out into the distance, the still waters lapped against the glass. There were fish just below the surface.
There was no bedroom, no separation of space for night or day. The furniture provided in the arc of the habitat was varied, but there was nothing that resembled a bed. On the floor was a scattering of cushions, as if to create a nest, which seemed to make sense to Shayla. No kitchen, but she knew already that Hezarans didn’t cook but relied on nutritional supplements delivered to their doors once a week—food was free.
She’d arrived clothed in a white gown that covered her from neck to ankle. However, on the threshold of the house, the droids insisted she remove it and hand it over. They had no feelings or facial features that moved or reacted, and although she was accustomed to nudity when required, she was uncomfortable undressing in front of them. Their mechanical eyes watched her, unblinking. A robotic hand clawed at the fabric and nearly snatched it out of her hand. It would be easier once they left, which they did—their job done. She’d been delivered in much the same way a package arrived on a doorstep.
Now alone, she inspected the bathroom. The suite included a monsoon shower with multiple heads and two bathtubs—one shallow, one deep. The roof of the bathroom was glazed, allowing sunlight to bounce off the white walls and floor.
As for the occupants, it was apparent the men of Hezara, beyond their work, had no hobbies or secondary occupation. Their chief fascination was feeding their appetite for sex. The house was alright, she decided, in the way a hospital room was functional and impersonal. At least it didn’t look like a prison. But how quickly it might feel like one. She closed her eyes and tried to calm those negative thoughts. The end of the journey brought with it renewed anxieties and with no one to talk to about anything, she was acutely aware that there was not a human anywhere near her, she would have to deal with issues on her own.
Her biggest challenge was the most immediate one—how would she cope with the demands of the Hunger? The wait to find out who she would be joining was torturous.
When the door of the habitat slid open, she swiftly took up position and steadied her trembling hands and hid them behind her back. This was it—there was no escaping her destiny.