KILLER

---

>be me

>be weyland-yutani security guard

>sorry, "asset conservation associate"

>pay sucks

>food sucks

>life sucks

>get a message from middle management

>tells me I'm going to system bunchaletters-bunchanumbers

>I'm being reassigned

>"excess payroll"

>translation: they're going to freeze me

>and ship my icy ass to a station in the middle of nowhere

>and only thaw me out when I'm needed

>and I dont get paid for the time I'm frozen

>contract is airtight

>have no choice

>get frozen

>wake up in the new station

>it's completely trashed

>everyone is gone

>blood splattered everywhere

>bullet casings all over the station

>wut

>explore the station and

Carlos stared down at the black screen of the datapad. A fat, white blinking box waited in his subsequent string of thoughts. With deep concentration, he stared at his gizmo for a second before tossing it back up on the cafeteria table with a halfhearted sigh.

"Eh, screw it."

The tan, lean man crossed his arms, staring out at the abandoned mess hall. Scanning it as if it had anything he hadn't seen a thousand times before. Rows of stalls, each one carrying a sign of the conglomerate that ran it. Declaring themselves having the best food on the station, as if it all didn't come from the same source and as if they weren't all owned by the same company.

Something hummed overhead. His brown eyes drifted up to a sign hanging over the entire room like a threat. A capital 'W' and 'Y' mixed, the symbol of the omnipresent megacorporation. Something inside it had ticked over, the billboard now lit to a full gloom instead of a half-lit bulb from before.

Weyland-Yutani.

Goddamn Weyland-Yutani.

Underneath, its ever-present slogan.

"Building Better Worlds".

Carlos scowled at the slogan, raising a middle finger. What was the actual last world they built? Xerxes IV? And that was almost a hundred years ago now. As far as he could tell, Weyland-Yutani made its money entirely through no-bid government contracts and Extremely Shady ShitTM. They didn't invest any of that money in payroll, that was for fucking sure.

His eyes fell from the sign, down to the metal shutters half-deployed to the plexiglass window. Beyond them lay a gas giant, pinkish like a flustered white boy. A sight he'd seen what felt like a million times now, mundane and old hat. It wasn't that that caught his attention but the red trail on the shutters.

A trail of blood. The prints of four fingers melting into a messy smear of crimson. It dragged away from the first imprint, smeared like the tail of a comet before vanishing into nothing.

"Huh," he voiced. "Didn't notice that one."

He updated a tally in his head.

Thirty-nine.

Thirty-nine bloody handprints.

This was what he'd been reduced to. Counting. Since waking up from cryo, his first panicked concerns had been food and water. That was covered. He wouldn't dignify calling the stuff in the cafeteria food, but it kept the hunger away. Engineered to last almost forever, even without refrigeration. All wrapped in plastic and foil anyway. Water? Station tanks had enough for years for hundreds of people. He'd die of old age before he died of thirst.

With the immediate concerns handled, all he could do was try to fight off the boredom. Comms were down. AI core only running on backup. Electricity spotty. No help coming. By the USCM arrived, if they ever did, they'd find nothing but a corpse, its trousers pulled down as his dead body mooned whatever jarheads found his mummified bony ass. And then they'd space it, claim a total loss on the station, and get some sweet, sweet bailout money from Uncle Sam.

God Bless America.

Something pounded above in the ceiling. Something fast and agile moving through the ventilation, echoes of its journey thumping heavy with every shambling movement.

Thump.

And then, there was that problem. His hand went to his sidearm, snapping open the strap. He went as still as a doll, eyes following the heavy thumps as they traveled above. Not even a breath as he waited, nerves and heart screaming fire and fear. Pounding hard until it reached the end of the room, the thumps growing in distance. Growing muffled, then silent. It'd moved on. Deeper into the bowels of the station.

He waited still. Could be a trick.

After a few seconds, he relaxed more.

Maybe not.

He sat up with a sigh, looking down on the datapad beckoning him to finish the story. He didn't know what had compelled him to start writing. Some kind of record to organize his thoughts.

He reached over and grabbed a nutrient bar clad in silver foil, unwrapping it and taking in the lies that claimed they were nuts. Chewing as he considered, pondered on what to type next. He swallowed. The hunger pangs in his belly pulled away, and he sat down. Propping up his boots on the table, he began to type anew.

>explore the station and make sure it's empty

>literally no one

>not even androids

>AI core's offline

>food and water stable

>feeling of being watched

>literally all the time

>brush off as paranoia at first

>start hearing footsteps around station

>but they sound weird

>off

>fuck this

>break into the armory

>empty

>all the good shit is gone or doesn't have ammo

>find a shitty stun pistol under the desk

>better than nothing

>come and get it, you sumbitch

He leaned back in his chair, scratching his dark hair and thinking over how some suit would react when a report with this in it came across his desk. Or if he'd read it at all between his coke-fueled mania episodes. Or she. Weyyut was an equal-opportunity exploiter.

Carlos shrugged. He was blanking on what to say at the moment, but there was no reason he couldn't take it with him. Not like he had much else going on at the moment.

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump...

Except that.

He picked up the datapad with one hand and his nutrient bar with the other, picking the closest hallway to journey down. Didn't matter which one he went down; the whole station was just like a giant donut. If he kept walking, he'd get to his "home" eventually.

The lights above blinked in uneven beats. Walls of iron thatched with old rivets and more bloody handprints stretching across its surface.

Handprint #4.

Handprint #9.

Handprint #22, a gory trail of blood that ended in a four-word warning.

IT'S IN THE VENTS

He regarded it for a passing moment before taking another bite of his bar. He reached his thumb over to the pad's keyboard, ready to type out his next string of ramblings.

Thump.

Quiet. A gentle drop of weight so graceful and weightless it might a well have been a feather. But he heard it all the same, and his jaw twisted to determined grit.

Carlos dropped the bar and datapad. His hand wandered to his sidearm. "Nuh-uh_._ Not today."

He pulled his iron out as well as any cowboy, spinning around in a complete turn to level his gun straight down the hall.

To it.

Something humanoid. As in, it stood on two legs and had two arms, and that's where the similarities stopped. It was something like a mockery of a human, blackened carapace that shined like polished marble in the dim light of the hallway. Other protrusions rising from its back, round and long like smokestacks. Claws on its hands and feet just as sharp, talons long and strong enough to drag gashes in the bulkhead.

And the head. White, sharp, teeth caught in a crooked grin and a half-dome that stretched back in an arched grace before flattening out. Its head curved outward into horns, jutting out in curls and elegant protrusions as if it was a crown. A tail writhed behind it, long and whiplike and sharp and mean. Jagged as the rest of it, its end halberd-sharp and gleaming with a silvery sheen like it was steel, not obsidian.

It.

It stood up on its arched heels, rising to its full height as it 'stared' at him. How he didn't know. The thing didn't have eyes. But it focused on him, tail undulating behind it in preparation. A low clicking came from it, long and chattering as it felt them bounce off his flesh. Echolocation? Or some other sense he could only guess at it.

Click. Click. Click-click. Click.

There it was. His other problem on the station.

He pulled the trigger. A ball of energy flashed at the end of the barrel, slowly building in size as he charged the battery.

"Caught you!" he grinned. "You're loud as hell today, you know that?"

It hunched down, hissing light like a broken pipe. Anger? Or just waiting to attack?

He nudged his gun up toward the open vent where it had crawled out. "Go on. Back you go."

Hshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...

"You know I'll use this."

KkKkKkKkkrsshhhhhhh...

It "stared" him down for tense passing, then craned its head up to the ceiling. Its spindly arms reached to the open mouth of the vent, claws grasping the edge. With all the quiet agility that it had intruded, the alien pulled itself back into the vent.

He watched it leave with a slackened half-interest. Keeping his eyes on it, at least until it was out of sight. Lest there be repeats of past incidents.

It kept climbing until only its feet and long, long tail dangled from the darkness of the ceiling's hole.

And then it made a move it wasn't supposed to make. Its snaking tail whooshed through the air in a sudden snap, the sharp tip going down in a blur of black. The end skewered a discarded takeout box on the floor, used and forgotten.

It reared back, then hurled the greasy box at him with full force. Carlos panicked and fired his gun. The bolt screamed off-target, smashing into a nearby wall. The impaled box detached from the tail and came flying at Carlos's head with breakneck speed, red Chinese characters filling his vision instantly.

His nerves answered, and he swatted the box out of the way just as it threatened his nose. It smashed against the wall, but in that scarce tick the monster had cleared the distance between them. It was on him now, claws already raised and ready to grab him.

Too close to raise his pistol. Gun still recharging. His mind flew through the options, and instinct took the best he could muster.

He ducked. The claws went sailing over his head, and he fell flat on his back and raised his pistol at the thing's bony chest.

Did he have enough charge?

Screw it.

He fired anyway. A much smaller bolt of energy flew out from the gun, punching through the air and hitting the alien square in the chest. It recoiled, stepping back as he smiled in triumph.

Got you.

He kept firing, tiny bolts whizzing out and striking the monster in pepper fire. It grunted, raising a claw to protect itself as it took a single step back, snarling in a frustrated click.

HrrahhhhkKkKkKkKk...

It turned around and launched its body down the hall, sprinting in all fours in animal speed and passing the vent entirely, running around the corner until it vanished from sight--maddened clicks and snarls echoing around the walls, fading in the distance until they faded completely.

Leaving him alone.

Once again.

Carlos stood up. His knuckles were white around the grip of his gun. He hadn't done any real damage. Not even close. But he'd done enough to discourage it. Annoy it. Enough to make him not worth the effort.

At least, for now.

He holstered his gun with a tired smile, shouting out into the empty hallway. "You're getting sloppy!" he called.

A distant click answered him, seething and furious.

He stooped down, picking up the crunch bar and the datapad from the floor. "Yeah, that's what I thought." He finished off the remnants of the bar, tossing the wrapper over his shoulder. Wasn't like he was going to be cited for littering.

A pang of pain growled deep in his gut. Hunger, still demanding more. But he'd come this far, and he didn't feel like walking back to the cafeteria.

Luckily, a solution presented itself. A nearby rec room, its door torn off the hinges with trails of blood smearing out from the floor below. Carlos winced; if he was truly stuck on the station for the long haul, he had half a mind to mop up all the blood. As soon as he found a mop. That also wasn't covered in blood.

A shrug. That was Future Carlos's problem. Present Carlos was hungry, and he knew there had to be some snacks inside he hadn't looted yet. So he turned heel, walking into the empty room with the flickering bulb. Something meant for middle-management; slogans and posters all over to reinforce corporate loyalty to Weyland-Yutani.

Looted. Drawers open, packages torn asunder with ragged sharpness. Food everywhere, strewn about as crunchy caltrops.

Not by him. And human hands didn't leave claw marks like the ones he was seeing.

Nope. His co-inhabitant had beat him to this place.

But there had to be something. It was that thought that drove him forward towards one of the cabinets that had its doors still shut. He braved the darkness inside, throwing his hand into the depths of the pantry, feeling around for something intact. After a bit of pawing, his fingers touched cardboard.

Carlos grasped it, pulling out an unopened box of cereal. A tiny thrill of victory went through him, and he switched his attention down to the pantry boxes on the floor. He opened one of them, and his eyes went wide. A chorus of angels sang in his mind as he gazed upon a fresh box of coffee grounds. He looked over to the cabinet, where a coffee maker lay on the table, still plugged in.

His eyes drifted to the ceiling with a wry and thankful grin. "Gracias."

---

He sat down on one of the thin chairs, holding his steaming mug of fresh coffee. The datapad lay on the table, cursor still blinking.

He took a sip of his drink.

It was awful.

But it was coffee.

No telling how much was left on the station. He'd have to ration it. But that was yet another problem for Future Carlos. Present Carlos was in a storytelling mood, and he picked up the pad to continue his rant.

>wander the station for days

>keep hearing something following me

>finally see what it is

>it's some fucking monster

>shaped kind of like a person with a big fuckoff tail

>black carapace

>weird toothy jaw thing in its mouth

>VERY sharp claws and teeth

>probably what killed everyone on the station

>now it's following me

>stalking me

>thing corners me one day, knocks the gun out of my hand

>then

The hairs on his neck suddenly stood up--the feeling of a presence behind him.

Crap.

He'd sat down with his back to the entrance.

Crap.

With a sudden twist, he turned to face the entrance.

And there It was. Halfway in, hunched over with its eternal, grim smile. Stopped mid-step like a dazzled animal in headlights. Then it moved. A single, gentle step forward.

Carlos threw out his finger, leveling it at the intruder. "Hey hey hey!" he shouted. "No! Not while I'm having coffee, Killer!"

It chattered at him, clicking in a long warble.

KlKlklKlklKkKkKk...

"Besides, you blew your chance a few minutes ago."

KRRRRrrRRrrKkKkKKkkKkk...

It wasn't leaving. It stood there stubbornly, breathing in wispy, breathy snarls. Waiting on him to say something, a growing tension rising in the room until he acknowledged it.

He relented. Rolling his eyes, he turned halfback in his seat. "Fine," he muttered. "But this counts as Dinner Truce, got it?" He patted the gun on his hip. "Any funny bidness, you get Mr. Zappy-Zap."

The creature gave an acknowledging hiss, then walked into the room with a series of loud thumps. It walked towards him, every sound sounding out with a heavy thump. Now that its cover was blown, it didn't need to be stealthy.

He kept up his guard until the creature walked behind him, passing his table. As it did, he couldn't help but marvel how tall it was. Even hunched over, it was taller than any person he'd ever known. It passed him, making its way over to the cabinets. It sniffed the air, then reached out one of its spindly arms to reach inside. With a bit of awkward flailing, it pulled out a half-open plastic bag full of cereal.

The alien stepped away from the cabinet and struck out, digging its sharp teeth into the cereal with an animal hunger. Devouring the bag, polymer and all, more of the cereal dropping out around its mouth like sugary rain as it tore in. It tore into the bag until there was nothing left, then immediately turned to resume its search of the pantry. With a bit more searching it had another torn bag, its fate the same as first. Devouring in ravenous, angry bites, scarfing it down with primal snarls.

Table manners weren't its strong suit. Carlos turned back to the datapad. He tapped his head, thinking of how to continue. Realizing where he stopped, he made a flustered sigh and went down a line. He'd write that part later.

>fast forward a few months

>me and this thing develop an understanding

>even give it a name: Killer

>don't know what else to fucking call it

He glanced up, then frowned as he saw one of the packets of coffee in the alien's greedy claws.

"Hey!" he snapped. "Not the coffee!"

It ignored him, and tore open one of the packs, throwing the brown grounds into its maw. It swallowed without even chewing. Then began to cough. Deep hacks of disgust. A black tongue rolled out of its mouth as it spit onto the floor, then looked down to the rest of the box. It hissed at it, flaring out its alien inner jaw at the offending meal and stomped away from the rest of the box with a huff.

"Told you."

KkKkKKkkKkk...

Carlos sunk back into his chair, tapping on the keypad as the alien continued to rummage around for scraps. Now, where was he...

>even seems to answer to the name now

>do more exploring

>discover some audio legs, terminals still running

>find out what happened

>they hatched Killer from an egg

>found it on some far-off world

>whole station's been doing experiments on it

>painful experiments

>who knows how long

>some point Killer broke out

>killed the entire station

>in revenge I guess

>reap what you sow, fuckers

>didn't kill me

>I don't smell like the people that tortured her maybe?

>oh right, Killer's female

>forgot that part

>we stay out of each other's way mostly

>station won't last forever though

>all the escape pods are trashed

>one left

>it's half broke

>not brave enough to use it yet

>what do

Heavy steps sounded behind him, thumps melded with contented clicks. He looked over his shoulder to see the very tip of Killer's tail winding around the corner to the hall, and a trail of old cereal leading out with it.

Guess she'd gotten full.

After eating his own scavenged meal, he was full too. He left the empty cup and bowl on the table, leaving the room with his datapad. He resumed his journey down the hall, ignoring the bloodied windows and brass shells of full-auto fire that littered the ground.

Killer had been busy before he woke up. All the little pieces putting together a story of how she'd done it, ambushing and hunting down the personnel one by one.

He shuddered to think about it. Not just facing down a creature of primal power, but low cunning to match. Killer was smart. He could see the intelligence in the way she acted. How she seemed to understand his words if he yelled them loud enough. Understood boundaries, when she felt like it. It made him all the more grateful that she seemed to accept him.

Carlos stopped. He'd reached his destination, an ornate-looking automatic door with a plaque set next to it.

KUMI HARRIS-FUJIMORI

ADMINISTRATOR

The head suit's private quarters. By his investigations, Ms. Harris-Fujimori had tried to make it to the escape pods, only for one of her guards to shoot her over it. And then Killer killed him. Sucked for both of them, but her luxury suite was now his new home.

He dialed in the number he'd found. 9891542.

The door hissed open. He stepped inside to a cooler and drier climate. To a studio apartment, the queen bed commanding the center of the room. Lights still working, and even an aquarium behind the bed. Unconvincing robot fish swam inside, glassy eyes staring out into nothing.

"Honey!" he announced to no-one, "I'm ho-ooome!"

No one answered.

He shrugged, and stepped beyond the boundaries of the door. It closed behind him with a smooth hiss, sealing him inside. His hand only loosely gripped on the datapad now, writer's block guarding the way on how to end his cheeky tale. As he tapped on the screen, he used his feet to drag off one boot after another, kicking them to the wall.

When they were off, he tried to navigate his way to the bed, only for his ankle to catch.

He looked down to whatever the obstacle was.

Then went very still.

A black, bony tail was wrapped around it, coiling tight. The end gleamed in the low light of the apartment.

"Killer, you cheating bitch."

It swept him, pulling him off his feet in massive force. He went like a rock in a sling, thrown off his legs as the tail squeezed tight and whipped through the air, taking him with it. With the thrill and terror of a doomed dive, he went flying up. Then back down until his back plunged into the cushion of the mattress. The springs tossed him up, gravity and alien force throwing him back down good.

The world exploded into dizzy vertigo as he reeled on his back. Recovery slow coming, head wobbling around his shoulders as he tried to recover.

Then he felt them; two hands, sharpened nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders. He shook his head, bringing his vision back to clarity and realizing what had happened.

Killer.

She was hovering over him, clear shining viscous falling from her smiling teeth. Vertebrae arched high, and her tail winding over, dancing in the air. Cruel and cocky charm.

She chattered in pleased clicks, all too proud with herself and her catch.

"Jesus, Killer!" Carlos huffed, "How did you even get in here?"

She edged her head down, stroking her head against his exposed neck. Gently dragging her sharp teeth across his neck, soft clicks tapping from her throat.

KkKkKkKk...

His mind flew through the possibilities. The vents to this room were too small. And even she wasn't so sneaky to get past him in the brief window he'd opened the door.

...the keypad.

"You memorized the combination. You waltzed in here and waited for me, didn't you?"

Shhhkhhhhkhkkkshkkk...

Christ, she was smart.

And he was trapped. Helpless, helpless to do anything as she carefully lowered her thin body to his and brought her face into his neck. Nuzzling him, her sounds turning to something more like a contented purr.

KrRrrrkkRrrr...

Carlos sighed. He'd told her his room was off-limits, but he'd always thought the door would be enough to keep her out. And once she had her might set, there wasn't much he could do to dissuade her. It was lonely on the station. And as much as he'd struggled against it at first, he welcomed her company.

It was mad. It was probably illegal. He was definitely going to Hell for it, but he'd come to accept her advances.

Killer was female, and this was how he'd found out--caught like a rat.

He looked down between her long legs, seeing the blackened slit glistening between her legs. Smooth and wet, a thin strand of ooze drifting from its folds. Already she was ready for him, growling in need as she continued to tease his throat.

"Killer-?"

Kkkkkrkkkrkk...

His breath shortened, heart rising in tempo. His body filled with excitement, feeling this alien being laying her amorous attentions across him. Desire and shame growing together, cursing himself for how she affected him and how she knew how to draw out his desires. He thought he'd been such vanilla guy until her, making him yearn for the graceful black curves of her alien form.

He swallowed hard, the swelled lump traveling down his throat. "Killer-!" he breathed. One of his hands drifted up, the pads of his fingers finding the smooth contour of her head. Smooth like wet glass, he ran his fingers down its edge as she crooned in delight. Her tail curled behind her, its end rolling with every stroke he gave her.

And he pulled back. Leaving her yearning for more and moving his trembling hand to his shirt. To take off the buttons, only for Killer to snap her jaw open.

Killer hissed at him, her inner jaw stopping short of his face. He recoiled back under her assault, feeling the warm breath wash over him as she intimidated him down into submission until his head was sinking deep into the cushions. Satisfied, she moved her talons to the buttons of his shirt, trying to undo them with an awkward fumble. Tried and failed, and after a few attempts gave a snarl of frustration and dug her talons into the space between them.

She ripped them open, revealing his bare chest to the open air.

"Hey!" he shouted. "I just found this shirt!"

Killer didn't care. Her hands went down to his pants, grabbing the buckle. Here her skill was more practiced, and she was at least able to pull the pants down around his ankles, boxers and all. She threw them away like an old skin, the wad of clothing hitting the door and falling flat as a clump.

Leaving him exposed. His cock high and hard below her, Killer's oozing slit already slowly covering his member in her juices.

She was-

God, she was beautiful. He didn't care how degenerate or wrong it was. He'd come to love her beauty in the time he'd know her, a body not of his world but a body still exotic and enticing in its own way.

Killer made another low purr, bringing her claws to face. Wrapping around them, encasing him in a cage of black bars as she lifted his head. And lowered hers, bringing their heads to meet in a slow and gentle touch of crowns.

KrkKrkKrkKrkKrk...

"Y-yeah," he shuddered. "I guess I have been ignoring you, huh?"

Krkrk.

She opened her mouth, running her black wet tongue across his neck. Trailing thick and sticky saliva that ran down his throat like a river, leaving him more soaked by the moment. Killer suddenly pressed him down, bending her knees as she took position over him. Her trail curved up, her smile widening as she straddled him, slit hanging over his waiting cock.

"Killer...stop teasing."

Her tail moved around her body, its sharpened tip navigating to his face. The very end of it finding his cheek, stroking it in loving measure.

"Killer-!"

And with no warning, she threw herself down. Maddeningly tight walls squeezed down around his cock as she pushed down around him, a single loud clack emanating from her bosom. Pleased, squeezing him tight as she sunk.

And God she was tight. Strangling him, her thick ooze of lubrication letting his meat glide smooth into her hot depths. Not a human's pussy, but something different and delightful. Alien yet inviting, inviting him to buck inside her hips, stretching every inch of her flesh. She let a loving tempo of clinking ticks, leaning her long head back to revel in the pleasure of him.

Aakkkrkkkkrkkk...

"You like that?

KrrkKrrk...

"You like my voice, don't you?"

She purred. Maybe she was saying things in her own tongue or perhaps they were just animal growls that meant nothing, but he could sense how much she enjoyed him talking to her when they were together. A real, living being he was sharing this moment with.

Her skin was shining. Always with the wet gloss it carried, now like moving diamonds as she pumped her hips onto his. Taking the lead like she always did, looking down on him as she set the pace. She undulated on top of him in sensual waves of motion, holding her claws on his shoulders. And vicious and dangerous as she was, she had her gentle side.

Her depths kept stroking him on as she lowered her torso to his, shiny strands of drool falling from her teeth.

"Killer..."

KrrkkClClClkKkKk...

One of her claws found his cheek. A talon gently pressed his head to one side. Craning her head, turning it to expose her neck to his lips. So close he could taste her scent, a strange, almost sterile chemical trace like bleach. But with a twinge of sweetness, a touch of feminine pheromones that stroked the desire for her within. He'd come to love and fear it. How she could rip him to shreds any time she pleased. And how she didn't.

He could tell what she wanted. Even as she worked his hard and begging cock, a gesture of affection from her mate. He leaned his head forward, planting his lips soft and wanting on her throat. Pressing them against her carapace, a gentle kiss on her neck that sent her into a sunny croon. Her tail twisted in knots for the gesture, clicking fast and hard under his attention. Happy. Content.

But not satisfied. With a greater need, she pressed her legs down harder. Claimed his cock in her tight pussy, extracting a groan from his mouth. Impatience took her, alien need and sexual fury working in perfect concert to conquer him.

"Killer-!"

KkrkKkrrr!

She pulled away, arching her back and sitting up to her full height, letting him gaze upon her shining glory. Allowing him see the monster he was making love to, the being that letting his cock penetrate her sweet and waiting walls. A killing machine of bony and chitin and cold fury, clicking warmly and basking in the radiance of their rutting. But, right now, right here, he was hers. Her plaything. Her chew toy.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

And tight, her insides like a human's but unfamiliar in all the ways that made her exotic and new. Tiny bumps that strode across the flesh of his meat in gentle glides and the glorious thickness of her lubrication. Not human. He wasn't sure he could go back to a normal woman after her.

With a sharp click, she threw her hips down, forcing his hard cock to the fullness of her flesh. Her mouth parted as she hissed out in delight, waves of bliss tracing out over his body in return. She was torturing him in her special way. Sibilating long and high, a sound he'd come to understand was her version of laughter.

She kept him like that for minutes. Holding him still, watching his reactions. Clamping her jaw as sweat poured down his face, her pussy clamping around him tight and having him as her prisoner. Killer was enjoying this. Not just the sex, but all the little ways she was able to drive him mad--a huntress playing with her food.

Carlos worked up the bravery to whimper out her name. "K-Killer! E-enough screwing around!"

KrrrrkkkrkKkkrk...

"I mean it! You're driving me insane!"

In a very human gesture, she took her nails and traced them down his chest. Not enough to hurt but to feel the distance sting of her claws, then the sudden burst of warm slickness as she moved on top of him again.

By now, the tension had risen in his belly in a compacted ball of nervous energy. He was at the edge, the quivering warmth around him warning him to his lover's pleasure. She as close too. Close and growing closer, her heated breaths were growing shorter and meaner with every pump. Dragging them both to the finish line, the purrs and sighs turning into snarls and roars.

Harder.

Harder.

All he could do is lay his head back and groan as her riding turned to furious bucks, slamming down on him like he was a bucking horse.

Hshhhhhhhhhhhh!

She flared out her inner jaw, its teeth jumping inches away from his face. Lost in the pleasure, lost in their union but letting him know who was in charge--claiming him, soaking him in her scent and body. And he loved it. Loved all of it. Scent and sighs, smarts and sex.

Killer bucked down a final time. A finishing slam of her hips, crushing down around his cock with all her body's force. Her dense muscles twinged, twitched, then began to shake as the climax claimed her alien form. Her pussy clenched around his cock, twisting him hard and sending him over the edge to join her.

The climax exploded out from him, thick strands of seed pouring from the end of his cock as his body boiled in pleasurable agony. He moaned loud, a groan that turned to a gasp as a long, slimy back tongue laid over his lips and found its way inside his mouth. Killer's tongue, worming over his in a dance of coiling wet flesh. It drove him to a more extraordinary summit, whining in delight as she tasted him. Wrestling his tongue until her own slipped out, trailing saliva and running it over his face.

And the orgasm didn't stop. He felt like a rocketship taking off, soaring into the skies, never to return. The contractions in his body squeezing him in faster rhythm, more cum forced out of him and joining the thick globs of fluid pouring out around her slit. Milking him dry.

More.

God, more!

He gave her everything he could, bucking his cock deeper into her folds to deliver his seed. Out of his mind with pleasure, out of reality altogether as he reached the actual peak of his climax. A singularity of carnal delight that blasted the reason right out of him. For a brief moment, he was nothing more than an animal, making noises of one as he shot a final ripe rip of release into Killer's waiting pussy. Staining her insides, something that she answered with a beautiful purr of approval.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Carlos felt himself on the slow slide down. The peak was retreating behind him, a warm and complete satisfaction rolling through every cell in his body. His cock was still pumping out seed, but only weak strands that came in dull pulses of pleasure. It was over now, as over as it could be as Killer lowered her body to his. His cock slid out of her black slit, ruined with thick sap and semen that dripped from her as a faucet of messy fluids.

The room was full with the haze and smell of sex as she came down purring, curling her body up to his. She pressed her face up to his, snuggling against him with satisfied clicks.

Kk. Kk. Kk. Kk.

Carlos stroked her smooth chin with a spent smile. She was a killer, all right.

His killer.

---

Carlos laid in the darkness of the room, tired eyes only half-paying attention to the light of the datapad in his grasp. His finger hovered over the keys. Studying everything he'd written. Revisions, additions. Why he'd bothered escaped him; it wasn't like anyone was going to read this.

Hhhhsssss...

A long arm lay wrapped around his chest, hard warm chitin pressing against his back. Killer laying behind him, breathing in and out in steady hissy breaths, using her other hand to slowly stroke his dark hair. Content to curl against him as the big spoon and making her contentment known with the occasional clicking chirp that echoed from her throat.

Tapping the pad, he typed out the last part of the story he'd begun. If nothing else, it helped to crystallize his thoughts. Make sense of everything.

>gotta make the most of it

>guess i'm killer's boyfriend now

>or mate or pet or however that works

>i think she's getting bigger

>if she keeps growing, she won't be able to fit in the escape pod

>if we end up having to use it

>cross that bridge when I get to it

He laid there, staring at the screen. Fingers hovering over the keys, working the will to type what he was thinking. He knew the words, but to actually say them...

A hard gulp worked down his throat. Heated worry and a strange churning thrill of new fear in his gut as he worked up the nerve. The moments passed until he gathered enough courage to gain control. He willed himself to type the rest.

>i'm like

>80% sure she's pregnant

TO BE CONTINUED