A DevotedSub Books Collection

First Contact

Lark was twenty-eight years old, and she had been on the survey ship Elsa for eleven months without touching another living soul except Stellan, thirty-two, her captain and her husband, the man who owned her body and her heart with the same iron grip.

The Elsa had been mapping dead systems on the edge of the Veil for the better part of a year. Dead rocks. Dead ice. Nothing alive. Nothing worth the air they breathed. Stellan ran a tight ship and an even tighter claim on her, and Lark had grown used to the rhythm of it, the long quiet days broken by nights in his bunk where he took her hard and slow and reminded her exactly who she belonged to.

Then the signal came.

It was not a distress beacon. It was not machine noise. It was a song, low and pulsing, and it came from a moon they had already marked dead on the charts. Stellan brought the Elsa in low over the surface, and through the viewport they saw it, a forest of glass-blue tendrils rising from a crater, swaying though there was no wind, each one as thick as a man's thigh and glistening with something that caught the starlight.

- What is that, — Lark whispered.

- Something alive, — Stellan said. His voice was low and even, the way it got when he was deciding things. — And I want a closer look.

They went down in the shuttle, the two of them, because Stellan never left her on the ship alone when something was wrong, and he never left her when something was interesting either. The crater floor was soft under their boots, not rock but something spongy and warm, and the tendrils rose around them like the pipes of a great organ.

One of them moved.

It did not lash out. It did not strike. It curved down from above, slow and deliberate, until its tip hovered a foot from Lark's face, and she froze, her heart hammering. She could feel Stellan tense beside her, his hand on her arm, ready to pull her back.

And then the voice came, not through the air but inside her skull, warm and clear and male.

- Do not fear, little human. I am called Iris. I am adult of my kind, older than your ship, and I mean you no harm.

Lark gasped. Stellan heard it too, she knew by the way his grip tightened on her arm.

- Did you hear that, — she breathed.

- I heard it, — Stellan said. His eyes were on the tendril, hard and measuring. — Talk, then. State your business.

The tendril swayed, and the voice came again, amused.

- Your mate carries your scent, Lina. She burns with it. My kind sense such things. We sense hunger, too, and hers is very great.

Lark's face went hot. Her sex had been empty for three days, ever since the survey schedule had kept Stellan in the bridge for double shifts, and she knew her body was broadcasting it. She pressed her thighs together.

- Careful, — Stellan warned the alien. His voice was calm, but Lark knew that calm. It was the calm before he broke something.

- I am careful, — Iris said. — I ask nothing that is not given. But I have watched your kind's ships pass for many cycles, and I have never been asked what I might offer. My body is made for joining. My tendrils are made for pleasure. I would ask, with your permission, Lina, to show your mate what I can do.

Lark's breath caught. She looked at Stellan. His jaw was tight, his eyes dark.

- Lark, — he said quietly. — You want this?

She had to answer honestly. That was their rule. He never made her lie about wanting.

- Yes, — she whispered. — God, yes, if you let me.

- I heard that, human female, — Iris said, and there was warmth in the mental voice. — And I will be gentle until you tell me otherwise.

- Then yes, — Stellan said. He was watching her, not the alien. — She says yes. But you do not hurt her. You hear me? You mark her and I burn this moon off the charts.

- I understand claiming, — Iris said. — I will not take what is yours. I will only borrow it.

More tendrils descended. They moved with impossible grace, and Lark felt her suit's seals loosen at Iris's mental touch, the fabric peeling back from her body without tearing, drawn aside like curtains. She stood naked on the warm crater floor with her husband watching and an alien's tendrils wrapping her wrists, not tight, just holding.

- Tell me to stop at any time, — Iris said. — And it will stop.

- I won't tell you to stop, — Lark whispered.

One tendril rose between her legs. It was warm and slick, coated in a clear fluid that smelled like rain and something sweeter, and it pressed against her slit with slow pressure. Lark moaned, loud and helpless, as it slid along her folds, gathering her wetness, spreading it.

Stellan moved closer. He put his hand on her shoulder, grounding her, and she leaned into him.

- Watch him, — Lark gasped. — Don't leave.

- I'm right here, — he said. His voice was rough. — I'm watching every second.

The tendril found her clit. It circled it with its tapered tip, slow at first, then faster, and Lark cried out, her knees buckling. Another tendril caught her waist, holding her up, and a third wrapped around her left thigh, spreading her wider.

Iris's voice was inside her head, intimate and focused.

- You are so wet already. Your body sings to me. Shall I go inside?

- Yes, — she panted. — Please, yes.

The tendril pressed into her entrance. It was thicker than a finger, thinner than Stellan, and it slid into her pussy with a slow deliberate push that made her whole body shudder. It filled her inch by inch, the slick coating making the entry easy, and then it began to move, sliding in and out with a rhythm that was almost like breathing.

- Oh God, oh God, — Lark moaned. Her head fell back against Stellan's chest. — It's inside me, Stellan, it's so deep.

- I see it, — he said, and his voice was thick. His hand slid down her belly to where the tendril disappeared into her, and he pressed his palm flat over her mound, feeling it move inside her through her own flesh. — Fuck, Lark.

Another tendril rose to her chest. It wrapped around her breast, squeezing gently, and its tip found her nipple and circled it. The fluid it secreted made her skin tingle, a warm buzzing that spread through her whole breast. She arched her back, pushing her tits toward it, and a second tendril took her other breast the same way.

- Your breasts are beautiful, — Iris murmured in her mind. — So full. So responsive. May I taste them more deeply?

- Yes, — she breathed. — Yes, taste me.

Two more tendrils rose, these thinner, and they began to lick her. That was the only word for it. They dragged along her nipples with a soft rasping motion that made her scream, not from pain but from the sheer intensity of it. Her nipples were so hard they hurt, and every lick sent a jolt straight down to her clit, where the first tendril was still circling.

- Stellan, — she gasped. — Touch me, please, I need your hands.

His hands were on her instantly. One went to her breast, kneading it over the tendril that held it, and the other went between her legs, his fingers finding her clit where the tendril was working. He rubbed it hard, fast circles, and Lark screamed, her whole body convulsing.

- Come for me, — he growled. — Come on his tendril. Let me watch.

She came like that, with Stellan's fingers on her clit and Iris's tendril buried in her pussy and more of them licking her nipples, and the orgasm tore through her so hard she saw stars. Her walls clamped down on the tendril inside her, and Iris made a sound in her mind like deep water moving.

- You grip me so well, little human. You are magnificent.

The tendril inside her began to pulse. Lark felt it swell, felt something warm flood her, and she understood, through the haze, that Iris was coming too, filling her with his seed. It was warm and thick and it overflowed her, running down her thighs in rivulets.

- Take it, — Stellan murmured, his hand still on her belly, feeling her fullness. — Take all of it, baby.

When the tendril finally slid out, Lark was shaking. But Iris was not finished.

- You have a second mouth, — the alien said, and a new tendril rose, this one tapering to a soft rounded point. — Will you use it on me?

Lark looked at Stellan. He nodded, his eyes burning.

- Do it, — he said. — Suck him. I want to see.

She opened her mouth, and the tendril slid between her lips. It tasted like the rain-smell, sweet and clean, and she wrapped her lips around it and sucked. It pulsed against her tongue, and more of the sweet fluid welled up, coating her mouth. She took it deeper, letting it slide to the back of her throat, and Iris groaned in her mind.

- Your mouth, — he breathed. — So warm. So eager.

She deepthroated the tendril, relaxing her throat the way Stellan had taught her, letting it push in until her nose pressed against the thick part. She sucked hard, hollowing her cheeks, and her tongue worked along the underside. She could feel it thickening, pulsing, and then it erupted, flooding her mouth with warm sweetness. She swallowed it all, greedy, and licked the tip clean when it withdrew.

- Good girl, — Stellan said, and his voice was wrecked. — So fucking good.

But Iris had one more question.

- Your Lina watches with hunger of his own, — the alien said. — Little human, may I touch him too? Only if he wishes it.

Lark's eyes widened. She looked at Stellan, who was staring at the tendrils with something she had never seen in his face before. Curiosity. Want.

- Stellan? — she whispered.

He was quiet for a long moment. Then he nodded, once.

- Yes, — he said. — Show me.

A tendril approached him, slow and respectful, and Stellan unsealed his own suit with steady hands. He stood naked beside her, his cock already hard and thick, and the tendril wrapped around it with the same gentle care it had shown her wrists. Lark watched, transfixed, as the alien's tendril began to stroke him, sliding up and down his shaft, the slick fluid making it glide.

- Fuck, — Stellan groaned. His head fell back. — That's... fuck.

- Suck him, Lark, — Iris said softly. — Both of us. Together.

She dropped to her knees in front of her husband, and the tendril made room for her, wrapping around the base of his cock while she took the head in her mouth. She sucked him deep, her tongue swirling around the head, while the tendril stroked his shaft in perfect rhythm with her mouth. Stellan's hands tangled in her hair, and he groaned, deep and raw.

- Your mouth, — he panted. — God, your mouth.

She took him deeper, letting him hit the back of her throat, and the tendril tightened its rhythm, and Stellan came with a roar, shooting thick hot cum down her throat. She swallowed every drop, milking him with her lips, and the tendril licked the last of it from his slit with a delicate tip.

- Exquisite, — Iris said. — You are both exquisite.

But the alien was not done with Lark. Two tendrils lifted her, one under each arm, and held her suspended in the air, her legs dangling, her body open and dripping. A thicker tendril rose between her thighs, and Lark's breath caught at the sight of it. It was bigger than the first, as thick as Stellan's wrist, and it glistened with the slick fluid.

- This one is for your deeper places, — Iris said. — Only if you want it. Only if your Lina allows.

- Stellan, — Lark whispered, suspended and helpless and burning. — Please.

Stellan stepped close. He ran his hand up her dangling thigh, over her hip, and cupped her breast.

- Take it, — he told her. — All of it. You're mine and I'm giving you to him for this. Take it.

The thick tendril pressed against her entrance. It was a stretch, a real stretch, and Lark gasped as the tapered tip pushed in. It was so slick it slid, inch by thick inch, and she felt her walls opening around it, felt it fill her in a way nothing ever had. When it was fully seated, buried to its base, she was panting, her whole body trembling.

- So full, — she whimpered. — Stellan, I'm so full.

- I know, baby, — he said. His hand was on her belly, feeling the shape of it inside her. — I can feel him in you. Fuck.

It began to move. Slow, deep thrusts, each one pushing the breath out of her lungs. And then a second tendril, thinner, found her ass. It circled her tight hole with the slick fluid, and Lark tensed.

- Easy, — Iris soothed. — Just the tip. Only what you allow.

- Yes, — she gasped. — God, yes, do it.

The thin tendril pressed into her ass, just the tapered tip, and Lark cried out at the double fullness, the tendril in her pussy and the tendril in her ass, both moving, both hers. She had never been so full, never been so taken, and she was suspended in the air with her husband's hand on her belly, and she came so hard she screamed.

Her orgasm clenched around both tendrils, and Iris pulsed inside her again, flooding her pussy with warm seed, and the thin tendril in her ass throbbed too, filling her there with a smaller, hotter pulse. She hung in the air, shaking, dripping his seed from both holes, and Stellan caught her as the tendrils lowered her gently to the ground.

- I have you, — he said, holding her against his chest. — I have you, baby.

But Iris had one more gift to give, and Stellan asked for it with his eyes before he asked with his voice.

- She still wants more, — Stellan said. His hand was between Lark's legs, his fingers slick with her wetness and the alien's seed. — I can feel it. Give her more.

- As her Lina commands, — Iris said.

The tendrils lowered Lark until she was on her hands and knees on the warm crater floor, her ass in the air, her body open. Stellan knelt behind her, and she heard him unsealing, felt his hands spread her cheeks. His cock pressed against her entrance, still slick with her mouth, and he pushed into her with one long hard stroke.

- Stellan, — she moaned, her face pressed to the spongy ground. — Yes, fuck me, please fuck me.

He pounded into her, his hips slapping against her ass, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. And while he fucked her, two of Iris's tendrils slid beneath her, one wrapping around each of her breasts, squeezing and tugging her nipples with their slick tips.

- Your husband fills you so well, — Iris murmured. — Let me fill your mouth again, little human. Let us both have you.

A tendril descended in front of her face, and Lark opened her mouth eagerly, taking it deep. She was impaled at both ends now, Stellan's cock driving into her pussy from behind and Iris's tendril sliding down her throat from the front, and her breasts were being worked by two more tendrils, and she had never been so completely used, so completely owned, and she loved it.

Stellan's thrusts got harder, faster. His fingers found her clit and rubbed it in brutal circles while he fucked her, and Lark screamed around the tendril in her mouth, the sound muffled and desperate.

- Come with me, — he growled. — Come on my cock while you suck him. Now.

She came, her pussy clamping down on his cock so hard he groaned, and he came with her, pumping his hot cum deep into her, filling her alongside the alien's seed. The tendril in her mouth pulsed too, flooding her throat with sweetness, and she swallowed it all, choking and moaning and swallowing.

When they were done, Stellan pulled out slowly, and Lark collapsed onto the warm ground, shaking, her body humming from every hole. Stellan lay down beside her and pulled her against his chest.

- Mine, — he said, kissing her temple. — All mine.

- Yours, — she whispered. — Forever yours.

- Thank you, — Iris said, and the mental voice was warm and sated. — You have given me a great gift. Your species joins with such fire. I will remember this for the rest of my cycles.

The tendrils withdrew, slow and gentle, and Lark's suit resealed itself around her at Iris's mental touch. She leaned against Stellan, her legs shaking, her body humming.

- Did you like it? — Stellan asked quietly.

- I loved it, — she whispered. — But I love you more. You're the one I belong to.

- Damn right, — he said, and kissed her hard, his tongue in her mouth, tasting the alien's sweetness on her lips. — You're mine. Everything else is just borrowing.

As they walked back to the shuttle, the tendrils swayed in farewell, and Iris's voice came one last time, fading.

- Come back to me, little humans. I will be here. And I will be ready.

Lark squeezed Stellan's hand. She was already thinking about the next time, about tendrils and starlight and the way her husband's eyes had burned watching her taken.

Maw of the Abyss

Skye was twenty-nine years old and three miles under the sea when the dark took her.

The Hadal Relay Station was a concrete-and-titanium listening post bolted to a cliff above the Trench floor, crew of two — Skye, the junior deep-sea researcher, and her supervisor Dr. Reyes, who had rotated topside that morning and would not be back for forty-eight hours. For six nights the hydrophones had been catching something impossible: a low rolling pulse from below the Trench floor, every night between 0200 and 0400. Something vast was down there, and it was calling up at her station like a man calling up at a woman's window.

On the seventh night, Skye pressed her forehead to the cold viewport glass and whispered into the black, - What are you?

The black answered. The station lights died — not flickered, died — and a voice came through the hull and through her bones, deep as the planet's core: - Little one. I have been listening to you breathe for seven nights.

She was a grown woman of twenty-nine with a doctorate-track brain, trembling with her nipples hard under her thermal suit and her panties going damp. - What are you?

- I am the hunger in the lightless places. You may call me Colton.

The viewport lit with cold blue-green bioluminescence. An eye the size of her whole body pressed to the glass, and around it, coiling out of the dark, came the tentacles — dozens, hundreds, each thicker than her waist, lined with suckers that pulsed like mouths. Behind the eye, a maw ringed with teeth like stalactites, and a body that went on past the reach of the station's floodlights into depths her mind refused to measure. A leviathan. A god of the crushing dark. And he was looking at her the way a man looks at a woman he had already decided to keep.

- I'm going to breed you, — he said simply. - I'm going to fill your womb with my seed until it takes. You're twenty-nine, mamacita — ripe. And I am going to put a god's child in your belly.

Skye's pussy clenched so hard it hurt. Terror and a dark, obscene thrill tangled together. - Yes, — she breathed. - Breed me, papacito. Please. I want it. I want your baby.

The outer airlock cycled, and through it he sent a part of himself: a man-shaped avatar, eight feet tall, built like a nightmare statue, his skin dark as trench water and slick with brine, his eyes twin lanterns of blue-green light. He looked like a man in his forties, carved and weathered, with tentacles coiling at his shoulders and hips like living tattoos. Between his legs hung a cock that made her mouth go dry — thick as her forearm, long as her leg, ridged and veined, already weeping a pearlescent fluid that glowed faintly in the dark.

- Kneel, — Colton said.

The word hit her like a wave. Her knees folded. She went down hard on the steel deck, and the impact jarred a moan out of her throat.

- Good girl, — he rumbled, crossing toward her. - Your body has been getting wet every night at 0200, hasn't it? Strip for me, mamacita. Let me see what I'm going to worship and ruin.

Her shaking hands peeled the thermal suit off her shoulders, down her hips, and she stood naked on the cold deck with the dead station humming around her and the god's avatar towering over her. His eyes burned down her body — her breasts heaving, her nipples stiff, the wet shine between her thighs. He reached down with one huge hand and cupped her jaw, his thumb pressing her lower lip down until her mouth fell open.

- Suck, — he commanded.

She dropped to her knees fully and took him. His thick throbbing girthy massive cock was twice the size of her mouth, hard as a rock, almost as if it was going to burst, throbbing and pulsating as he pushed against her lips. She knew instantly he was going to stretch her sooo much. He had to struggle and fight to force his huge cock into her mouth — she was so tight, and he was watching, and he could see her lips stretching and stretching as his head passed through them, and she let out a loud moan around him and he moaned too from the tightness and from her mouth stretching so much. The pearlescent fluid coated her tongue, thick and sweet and electric, tasting like the sea and something darker.

- That's it, mamacita, — he groaned, his big hand fisting in her hair. - Take your god's cock. Deeper.

He pushed deeper and she gagged, and he held her there, his cock buried in her throat, her nose pressed into the coarse dark hair at his base. She could feel every ridge, every vein, every throb of him pulsing against her tongue. Drool ran down her chin and dripped onto her breasts. She swallowed around him, her throat working and squeezing, and he let out a deep rumbling moan that vibrated through the deck plates.

- Fuck, — he breathed. - That mouth. You were made to worship me with this mouth.

He started to fuck her mouth in earnest then, holding her head with both hands, driving his cock in and out, deeper every stroke. The tentacles at his shoulders writhed and one of them slid down and wrapped around her throat, gentle, pulsing in time with his thrusts. Another tentacle snaked between her legs from behind and pressed its slick tip against her asshole — not pushing in, just rubbing, teasing, and she whimpered around his cock because her pussy was dripping down her thighs, she had never been so wet, the wetness running down her legs and pooling on the steel deck under her knees.

He pulled out suddenly, leaving her gasping, strings of glowing spit connecting her swollen lips to his glistening cock. He stroked himself twice, fast and hard, and came — thick ropes of pearlescent come, hot and salty-sweet, across her face, her lips, her tongue, dripping down her chin onto her heaving tits. He smeared it over her cheeks with his thumb.

- Swallow, mamacita, — he ordered. - Taste your god.

She swallowed, and he watched her throat work, and his lantern eyes burned brighter. - Good girl, — he said. - My devoted little breeder. Now — turn around. Hands and knees. I'm going to show you what these are for.

The tentacles at his hips uncoiled, rising like serpents, slick and gleaming and pulsing with light.

She turned and dropped to all fours on the cold deck, her ass in the air, her pussy spread and dripping. The first tentacle slid up the inside of her thigh — it was warm, impossibly warm, slick with glowing fluid — and pressed its tapered tip against her pussy lips. She was so wet it slid in almost on its own, and she screamed.

- Ahhh — papacito — fuck, it's so big—

It was thicker than his cock had looked in his hand, and it pulsed inside her, throbbing and swelling with every heartbeat of the god. The suckers along its length caught at her inner walls and pulled, and each pull sent a jolt of pleasure up her spine. A second tentacle wrapped around her waist and lifted her slightly, and a third slid up her back and wrapped around her throat — not choking, just holding, pulsing.

- So tight, — Colton rumbled, watching her pussy stretch around his tentacle. - Look at you taking me, mamacita. Your little cunt is stretching and stretching around me.

The tentacle started to thrust — slow at first, then faster, driving in and out of her dripping pussy, and every thrust pushed her wetness out around it so her inner thighs were soaked. She could feel it everywhere, filling her, the suckers gripping and releasing, gripping and releasing, and her moans turned into wails.

- Papacito, please — more — fuck me harder, please—

- You want more, little breeder? His voice was dark amusement. - Then take more.

A second tentacle pushed into her pussy alongside the first, and she shrieked — the stretch was obscene, her pussy lips spread wide and white around the two thick shafts, her hole gaping and glistening. They thrust in rhythm, in and out, in and out, her whole body rocking on the deck, and the wet sounds filled the dead station — slick, obscene, endless.

- That's it, — he groaned, stroking his own cock slow as he watched. - Fuck, you're perfect. Stuffed full of your god.

The tentacle around her throat tightened just slightly, and the one at her waist squeezed, and Skye came — hard, screaming, her pussy clenching down on the two tentacles, her juices gushing out around them and running down her legs in streams. Her whole body shook. She sobbed his name.

- Good girl, — he rumbled. - But we're not done. Not even close. I told you — I'm going to breed you. Properly. With this.

He pulled the tentacles from her slowly, and she whimpered at the emptiness, her pussy gaping and pulsing and dripping onto the deck. He gripped his massive cock at the base and stepped behind her, lining the huge head up with her stretched, soaked entrance.

- Ready, mamacita?

- Yes, papacito, please, breed me—

He pushed in, and even stretched as she was, she screamed — his thick throbbing girthy massive cock was twice the size of her pussy, hard as a rock, almost as if it was going to burst, throbbing and pulsating as he pushed against her entrance. She knew instantly he was going to stretch her sooo much. He had to struggle and fight to force his huge cock into her — she was so tight, and he was watching, and he could see her pussy stretching and stretching as his head passed through her outer lips, and she let out a loud moan and he moaned too from the tightness and from her pussy stretching so much. It was like sticking an extremely long thick cucumber up a pussy.

- Fuck — so tight — — he growled, his huge hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. - Your little cunt is fighting me, mamacita. Fight me. I like it.

He drove deeper, inch by agonizing inch, and she sobbed and clawed at the deck, her nails scraping steel. The stretch was beyond anything — her pussy lips white and spread impossibly wide around his shaft, her inner walls stretched thin and burning, and still he pushed, until his hips were flush against her ass and he was buried to the base inside her.

- There, he panted. - All of me. Inside you. How does your god feel, mamacita?

- So big — papacito — I can't — oh fuck—

- Yes you can. You'll take all of me, and you'll beg for more.

He started to move. Slow at first — a long, grinding pull out until just his huge head was inside her, then a deep, brutal drive back in. Every thrust stretched her open again, every thrust made her scream. The pearlescent fluid mixed with her own wetness and ran down her thighs in glowing streams. He fucked her harder, his hips slapping against her ass, the whole station groaning around them, and two tentacles came down and wrapped around her breasts, squeezing hard, the suckers pulling at her stiff nipples.

- Harder, — she begged, clawing at his shoulders as he leaned over her back. - Harder, papacito, please, fuck me harder—

He gave her harder. He pounded into her, his massive cock driving into her stretched pussy over and over, the wet slapping sounds echoing, her screams echoing, his growls echoing. - You're going to take my seed, mamacita, — he snarled. - All of it. I'm going to fill your womb until it takes. Say it.

- Fill me up, papacito! Breed me, please, I want it, I want your come in me, I want your baby—

- Good girl.

He slammed in deep — impossibly deep, his cockhead pressing against her cervix — and came. It was like a flood: huge hot pulsing jets of his seed, thick and glowing, pumping into her womb in wave after wave, so much of it that it overflowed and gushed back out around his still-buried cock, running down her thighs, pooling on the deck beneath her. He kept thrusting through it, grinding his spend deeper into her, his whole body shuddering.

Skye came with him, screaming, her pussy clenching and milking him, her body shaking so hard she could barely hold herself up. When he finally pulled out, his come poured out of her gaping pussy in a glowing stream, and she collapsed onto the deck, panting, covered in him, her womb full and heavy.

He lifted her in his huge arms and carried her to the viewport, where the great eye still watched. He held her against his chest, her legs spread, his tentacles wrapping gently around her thighs and spreading her open for the eye to see her dripping, bred, ruined pussy.

- Mine, — Colton rumbled, to her and to the dark. - My mamacita. My breeder. My worshipper.

- Yours, papacito, — she whispered, her hand on her full belly. - Always yours.

And in the lightless places below, the god purred — and began to plan the next forty-eight hours.

He did not let her rest. The god's avatar laid her back on the deck and spread her thighs wide, and the tentacles came again — four of them this time, slick and pulsing with blue-green light. One wrapped around each of her thighs and held her open. One slid up her body and wrapped around her breasts, squeezing, the suckers tugging at her nipples until she cried out. The fourth — the thickest one, tapered at the tip — pressed against her dripping, gaping pussy and pushed inside her with one slow, relentless thrust.

- Ahhh — papacito — fuck— Skye arched off the deck, her back bowing. It filled her completely, throbbing and pulsating inside her, the suckers gripping her inner walls and pulling, and her pussy was so wet, so stretched, that every movement made obscene slick sounds.

- Look at you, — Colton rumbled, kneeling over her, stroking his massive cock — already hard again, thick and throbbing, weeping glowing fluid from the head. - My little breeder, stuffed full. Open your mouth, mamacita. I want both your holes full of your god.

She opened her mouth wide, and he fed her his cock, pushing the huge head past her lips. Her lips stretched and stretched around him, and she moaned around his shaft while the tentacle thrust in and out of her pussy below — in and out, in and out, her body rocking between them. She sucked him desperately, her tongue swirling around his ridged head, her throat working as he pushed deeper, and her pussy clenched around the tentacle, milking it, her juices running down to the deck in streams.

- That's my girl, — he groaned. - Both holes. Fuck, you're perfect.

The tentacle sped up, pounding into her, and his cock thrust into her mouth, and Skye was lost — drooling around him, sobbing, her whole body shaking. She came again, screaming around his cock, her pussy convulsing around the tentacle, gushing over it. He pulled out of her mouth at the last second and came across her face and tits — thick hot ropes of glowing come, coating her, dripping down her chin onto her heaving breasts — while the tentacle kept thrusting, kept filling her, until she came a third time, wailing his name.

- Please, she sobbed, her voice wrecked. - Please, papacito — breed me again — I need it — fill me up again—

- Begging for my seed, — he growled, and the tentacle slid out of her with a wet sound, leaving her gaping and dripping. He rolled her onto her hands and knees, lined up his huge cock with her soaked entrance, and drove in — all the way, one brutal thrust, burying himself to the base. She screamed.

His thick throbbing girthy massive cock stretched her pussy impossibly wide, throbbing and pulsating inside her, and he fucked her like an animal — hard, deep, merciless thrusts, his hips slamming into her ass, her tits swinging under her, her screams filling the station. - Take it, mamacita, — he snarled. - Take your god's cock. This pussy is MINE.

- Yours, papacito! Oh fuck, yours — harder — please — come in me — breed me—

He came with a roar that shook the hull — huge pulsing jets of hot seed flooding her womb, filling her so full it ran out around his cock in glowing rivers down her thighs. He ground himself deep, holding her hips, pumping every last drop into her, and she came with him, sobbing, her pussy milking him, her body shaking.

He pulled out slowly, and his come poured out of her in a thick stream. He pushed two fingers into her gaping pussy and scooped some of it back up, pushing it deep inside her, and she moaned.

- Keep it in, mamacita, — he ordered softly. - My seed stays in you. My child grows in you. You're mine now — forever.

She lay on the deck in a pool of glowing fluid, her womb full and heavy, her body wrecked and worshipped, and smiled up at her god through come-streaked lashes. - Yours, papacito. Forever.

By the time Dr. Reyes rotated back topside forty-eight hours later, the station lights were on, the reactor humming, and Skye sat at her console with her hand resting on her belly, smiling at nothing. The hydrophones were silent now — the pulse was gone, the trench floor quiet. But every night at 0200, Skye woke with her hand between her legs and her panties soaked through, and she could feel him — vast and patient and terribly hers — listening to her breathe from the lightless places below, waiting for the day she would come down to him and let him breed her properly in the dark where he lived. She was already planning the dive. She was his. She had always been his.

And she had never been happier, or wetter, or more completely owned.

TAKEN BY THE HIVE

Sera's salvage ship died screaming -- and the hive was waiting.

She was twenty-nine, a salvage pilot with more debts than sense, and she'd been stripping a dead freighter on the edge of uncharted space when the drive blew. The explosion took her engines, her comms, her air -- everything but the escape pod.

She woke up -- in the hive.

It was vast -- a living ship, all chitin and bioluminescence, pulsing with alien life. She was naked -- her flight suit gone, dissolved -- lying on a warm, fleshy surface. And above her -- surrounding her -- were them.

The hive. Dozens of drones -- insectile, tentacled -- watching her with compound eyes.

She screamed -- and tried to run -- but the floor held her, gentle tendrils wrapping around her wrists and ankles.

- Calm, little one. A voice -- deep, resonant, almost human. - No one will harm you.

He stepped forward -- and she stared. He was humanoid -- seven feet tall, midnight-black chitin, burning amber eyes. But where a man would have arms, he had tentacles -- thick, powerful, tipped with delicate sensory fronds. A hive king.

- I am Darius, — he rumbled. - King of this hive. And you -- little salvage pilot -- are Sera. Twenty-nine years old. Alone. In debt. His amber eyes gleamed. - I know everything about you. Sable -- my broker -- was very thorough.

Sable -- the information broker who'd sold her the freighter's location. She'd been set up. Delivered.

- You -- you bought me? — she whispered.

- I acquired you, he corrected. - There's a difference. I don't buy -- I claim. He circled her slowly -- his tentacles trailing across her skin, making her shiver. - And I am claiming you, Sera. As my queen.

- I'm not -- I don't -- She struggled against the tendrils. - Let me go!

- No. His voice was iron. - You were dying, little one. Your ship was dead. You had -- he consulted something - -- forty-three minutes of air. I saved you. Demon law -- hive law -- a life saved is a life owned.

- That's not --

- It is. He knelt -- his massive frame folding gracefully -- and he looked into her eyes. - But I am not cruel, Sera. I am offering you -- everything. Safety. Purpose. Pleasure beyond your mortal imagining. A tentacle stroked her face -- tenderly. - All I ask -- is you.

She stared into his amber eyes -- and she felt it. The pull. The same pull she'd felt in her dreams for months -- dreams of dark chitin and tentacles, dreams she'd dismissed as stress.

- You've been calling me, — she whispered. - In my dreams.

- Yes, mamacita. His voice dropped -- intimate, dark. - I've been calling you. And now -- you're here.

A tentacle -- thinner than the others -- slid between her thighs. She gasped -- it was warm, textured -- and it stroked her folds with exquisite precision.

- Darius -- — she breathed.

- Shh, little queen. Another tentacle joined the first -- sliding deep into her dripping pussy. She cried out -- the fullness, the perfect pressure on that devastating spot inside.

- Oh fuck, — she gasped. - Oh fuck --

- That's my good girl, — he rumbled -- his voice thick with lust. - Taking her king's touch.

More tentacles -- wrapping around her body, stroking her breasts, her belly. One presented itself before her face -- thick, flushed dark, weeping a sweet fluid.

- Anna me, Sera, — he commanded. - Anna your king.

She opened her mouth -- and took it. The taste -- sweet and alien -- flooded her senses. She moaned around the tentacle -- her tongue swirling around the broad tip.

His thick throbbing girthy massive tentacle was hard as a rock in her mouth, throbbing and pulsating, almost as if it was going to burst. She knew he was going to stretch her throat sooo much. The huge tentacle pushed deeper -- her throat stretching and stretching around its massive girth. She let out a loud muffled moan around it, and he moaned also -- a deep, resonant hum -- from the tightness of her throat gripping him. It was like forcing an extremely long thick cucumber down a throat.

The tentacles in her pussy -- thrusting gently, filling her -- pushed her over the edge. She came with a scream around the tentacle in her mouth -- her body convulsing.

- Good girl, — Darius rumbled. - My good, devoted queen.

He withdrew -- and he lifted her. His tentacles wrapped around her -- supporting her, spreading her -- and he carried her deeper into the hive. To the throne room.

The throne -- a massive structure of living chitin -- pulsed with bioluminescent light. He laid her on it -- and he loomed over her, his tentacles spread wide.

- Now, - I claim you. Properly. As my queen. — he rumbled

A massive tentacle -- thicker than her thigh -- positioned at her entrance. She was so wet -- so ready -- but he was so big.

- Breathe, mamacita, — he rumbled. - Breathe for your papi.

He pushed -- just the tip -- and she screamed. The stretch -- God, the stretch. He worked it in slowly -- rocking, letting her adjust -- his other tentacles stroking her, soothing her.

- Oh fuck, papi, she sobbed. - You're so big --

- And you're taking me, — he growled. - Such a good little queen.

He pushed deeper -- inch by impossible inch -- until he was buried to the hilt. She was so full -- she could feel him in her throat.

- Move, — she begged. - Please --

He moved -- slow at first, then faster. The massive tentacle pounded into her -- deep, powerful strokes -- while smaller ones worked her clit, her nipples. She was overwhelmed -- sensation from everywhere.

- Who owns you? — he demanded.

- You! — she screamed. - You own me, Darius --

- Who is your king? Your master? Your papi?

- You are! You're my king, my master, my papi --

He ...