Thirst Read online

  Thirst

  By

  Addison Cain

  ©2020 by Addison Cain

  All rights reserved.

  No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover art by Simply Defined Art

  ISBN: 978-1-950711-40-6

  For James, thank you for the hysterical list of potential titles:

  “Ink Me”

  “Testicles and Tentacles”

  “You Suck”

  “Cling”

  “That Left a Mark”

  “1001 Hickeies”

  “Bound by the Alien”

  Also, hilarious suggestions from Alta:

  “Milk Mustache”

  “Model Dairy”

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Epilogue

  SNEAK PEAK!

  FREE BOOK! BORN TO BE BOUND

  Addison Cain

  Chapter One

  “You know what I’m looking for.” There was no inflection, no interest in the prospective buyer’s voice. Straightforward demand and unveiled aggression were all Glabrx offered. He was not in such an undignified a pit for niceties—the best flesh market it may be—he had come for a singular purpose.

  “Yesssss.” Pleasure radiated from his lanky alien host, the gray boney protuberance of two digit hands waving toward the veiled display zone. “You will see this specimen is special. Set aside for one such as yourself. No other lifeform gracing Yarblock’s Life Emporium has yet to see it. When rumor tickled my ear that a warrior of your species and stature might frequent my simple showroom, I had it set aside immediately.” With a bow, the insectoid added, “The Cenoid race respects the Necrimata immensely.”

  “I am the first you’ve shown this to?” A shadow of appeasement led to the potential buyer’s curled lip.

  Traders could seldom be trusted on any word. The Cenoid arthropod might have dripped honeyed words, but it was money and rare collectables the Necrimata found on their hunts that often brought such merchants to slithering flattery.

  “The fiiiiirst, yes,” hissing clicks confirmed, the merchant’s mandibles rubbing together, two greedy serrated fangs that sang when moved in the ugly fashion. “This one was collected recently, yet kept in sensory deprivation. This we did in place of it being fit with a control circle.”

  Glabrx was not a simple-minded buyer. His species were not kind, patient, or willing to deal beyond a very specific line. He refused to be led, swindled, or manipulated—things all too common in the Rpond Nebula. “A circlet? It’s a sentient being?”

  “The best vessels always are.” The seller rubbed its two knobby digits together, stroking them up and down—fingering the bone, the round bulbous knuckles—hinting at what was to come. “There is more. This one offers a rare and coveted delicacy. You can use it for your pleasure”—overexcited mandibles clicked—“and feed from it.”

  Now that was something altogether intriguing. Eager to see what might lie behind the shining rare wool of so red a curtain, the huge warrior pushed past a squawking flesh trader. “Show me.”

  Fabric lifted, behind it a black energy barrier parting to reveal something unique. A vulgar display.

  The upper half of the creature’s body contained in a capsule, the being laid upon its spine, well fleshed, prettily colored. The bubble-like barrier around the pet was set so that Glabrx might look upon it, but it was unaware of everything outside the restraint pod.

  Human.

  The species was listed in the categories his kind learned after metamorphosis from larva to adult: mammals, restricted, base beings, untouchable.

  Yet, this one… its lower extremities were free of containment. Very touchable. Ankles held in manipulation cuffs, legs spread wide, its limbs bent at the knee for maximum exposure of what parts the flesh dealer considered worthy of display.

  The parts would be attended to in mere moments. What mattered now was the remainder of so rare and collectible a being.

  Inside the containment, it looked startling. Soft, red filaments grew from its head, arranged on a pillow to highlight the structure of its facial bones. Skin that leaked no slime, covered in little more than practically imperceptible fine hairs. So near a Necrimata’s build, but smaller, delicate in a tasteless way. This was no warrior.

  Yet Glabrx’s gums foamed venom all the same. Teeth involuntarily snapping from excitement.

  Unaware, resistant, and mentally stymied, the flesh market dealer’s catch lay still as floating jetsam, moving in natural waves to relive whatever motivated it to resist.

  Arms stretched and bound, waist pinned by restraint beams, there was no part of its body the small thing might more than twitch in its wave. It was perfectly vulnerable. Visibly delicious.

  So tempting that a trap was clear. “This is a mammal. A protected species… How did you come across one?”

  The Cenoid arthropod clicked in its gullet, “It was acquired by poachers. My company intervened before it might be damaged. As collection had already taken place, galactic laws state it cannot be returned to its primitive home planet.”

  The lie was obvious, but in order for the human to be for sale, the ruling body of the quadrant would have had to mark the human as Emporium property. Otherwise, it would have been euthanized. Enough government tape had packaged up this tidbit, making so rare a catch truly available. And clearly, the Emporium wanted to be on excellent terms with the Necrimata to dare such a delight.

  Complications…

  Glabrx had not come to take part in dishonorable business, but if all was legal… “If I find out there is so much as a mark against my name in standing here, I’ll see your entire spawnage crushed.”

  So deep was the bow. “I would not presume to implicate the great Glabrx in an illicit trade. Documentation has been filed, approval given to sell this human female as a Class One protected pet.” Waving toward the exposed folds between the human’s thighs, the merchant assured, “I guarantee, once word gets out, wealthy buyers will flock to one so exotic. Are you not pleased?”

  That fleshy slit between the creature’s legs meant nothing to Glabrx, but the scent radiating from it was delightful. Intoxicating.

  Bending forward, the Necrimata warrior pulled aside his facial mask, exposed his jaw, and inhaled deeply.

  That was the scent of… the ineffable. “Speak on.”

  “This rare prize is extremely special… not for general consumption or auctioning. It has been carefully prepared for many phases.” One of the merchant’s long, bulbous-knuckled fingers pointed to the contraptions encircling the fleshy mounds on the human’s chest. “This female has been chemically roused to begin lactation. As you can see, light, stimulating suction has already been applied to lengthen and engorge her nipples. Her mammary glands are developing in perfect harmony to optimally produce.”

  The Cenoid arthropod’s many feet shuffled over the floor to show another reading. “Should you be blessed, you might get that first drop to sample before your time here is up and the next customer is invited forward.” Mandibles rubbing together, he clicked in awe. “Projections estimate copious output. Such a delicacy can be harvested at your leisure, enjoyed… even sold.”

  Perhaps n
ot as tall as the lurking flesh dealer hovering over the containment pod, Glabrx carried three times the muscle mass. A thousand times the combat experience.

  More kills to his name than such an insect might even imagine.

  More well-laid offspring the Necrimata could easily inject within Cenoid arthropod weak exoskeleton to ease his unexpected seeding frenzy in place of buying illicit goods.

  Crossing thick arms over his expansive and vibrant chest, the warrior scowled. “Can it be drunk from the source? The human, no matter your restraints, that creature is trying to wriggle out of our contraption. Such poor behavior suggests potential resistance. A Hpin Biped would stand complacent as I implanted it with a Necrimata spawn. You,”—Three eyes blinked, their vibrant purple irises contracted in the clearest warning outside of the lingering secretion a bug could not taste—“could be easily implanted with a Necrimata spawn so I might be on my way.”

  “Does not the hunter in you call for a challenge when you seed?” Unconcerned with a small show of disobedience by the human, the flesh dealer clasped his four long-fingered hands. “Where is the pleasure in complacent prey? As for the human’s squirming now, there is some soreness involved as physiology adapts. Its nipples are being overstimulated. The light suction and squeezing manipulation accelerate milk production. Such discomfort is transient and unimportant. Optimal outcome must be achieved and behavior of this sort best culled through direct handling by its owner at the time of milking. Training—”

  There was a series of beeps interrupting the merchant. Mandibles clicking in delight, the merchant gestured to the screen. “Ahhh, a new scan screen shows sweet fluid accumulating in the mammary glands. For the right price, this slave could be conditioned to produce constantly to please you. And in answer to your question, it can be trained to take enjoyment from the process, whether manual or mechanical. Observe.”

  The flesh dealer began tapping the controls. The appliance on the human’s breasts kicked into life, pulsating in ripples around the entirety of generous, caught tissue.

  Staring through the barrier, Glabrx watched the machine knead the girl’s swollen mammaries, staring fascinated when the slave’s lips parted on an exhale.

  It fogged the glass, ruining the visual of such sweet smelling prey.

  More clicks, more turning of knobs. “It is only a matter of manipulating the correct nerves. At your whim, its pain can be urged into pleasure.” The tangy scent teasing Glabrx’s nasal receptors sweetened, the merchant eager to describe the wonderful aroma when the warrior sniffed again. “Examine the slit between its thighs. Its genitals, the human cunt, are the reason this mammal will suit you in ways other livestock in my Emporium cannot.”

  A little pulse of the human’s muscles set the pink lips between its legs twitching. The interesting sight, that second lower mouth, grew… moist.

  A bead of intoxicating dew.

  Breath sandpaper rough, Glabrx grunted. Each of the six tentacles growing in pairs along his spine unfurled. The appendages waved, stretched, and pulsed, no longer possessing the cerulean shade of a calm Necrimata. From base to tip, expanding writhing limbs took on the purple then red hue of an excited predator ready to hunt… or fuck. “Explain what I am observing.”

  The flesh dealer slithered closer, confident he’d hooked the attention of the warrior. “Unlike the single sex of a Necrimata, humans are either male or female. Displayed between its legs is the reason I know that out of all my wares, this female animal will give you the greatest satisfaction.” A knobby, gray finger tapped a small, hooded protrusion at the top of the female’s dampening slit. The captive jumped within its containment, squeaking out a note of obvious confusion. Even so, that heady aroma amplified, those fleshy lips growing pink and engorged. “Here is their sex organ, a channel of warm flesh that can self-lubricate in anticipation of mating. Imagine it, Great Glabrx, this hot, slippery flesh surrounding your seeding flange.”

  From his spine, each tentacle reached beyond his massive arms and torso to sample the sweet place that now shined, pink and puffed.

  And then he showed fanged teeth.

  There it was, a tiny hole hidden between the outer lips. “It is too small.”

  Mandibles extended in the Cenoid’s version of a grin. “This organ is designed to stretch if properly prepared. It could take the entirety of your flange with practice… kneading your wriggling flesh as its muscles spasm around you, taking your girth without damage to the host.”

  As if to prove his word, the flesh dealer pressed the tip of his finger past the pulsating opening. The long digit was maneuvered all the way to his first knuckle, and then for good measure, the bulbous joint, one six times larger than the finger, popped past the stretched lower mouth.

  All of that bulk sat in the squirming human. And it was squirming, fighting its restraints, throwing its head back and forth.

  The show was intoxicating. The smell a heady drug.

  “Remember, since capture, it has felt nothing but the suction of its mammary glands and mechanical maintenance of its feeding and waste extraction. Many months of sensory deprivation has reprogrammed the nerves, adjusted the mind, and created an ideal physicality for ownership. The human is eager for stimulus. Look, its reaction is one of pleasure. You can tell by the flush of its skin, also the chirp from its throat.” That finger pumped in and out, growing shiny. “Hear that song it sings? Beautiful, no?”

  It was a temptation that Glabrx longed to experience—one that would cost a fortune with little return on investment if indulged in. “Once hatched, my spawn would devour this human’s guts in a matter of days. There would only be one worthy mating.”

  “Aaaaaahhhhhaaa. That is the true beauty of why this specimen was set aside specifically for your needs.” Pulling his slimy, shined finger from the human’s mating recess, the flesh peddler demonstrated that the little hole went right back into shape, tight and small, and very, very slippery.

  Mandibles clicked, the gray digit held up for his client’s investigation, he said, “The pH of her secretions is acidic enough to prevent full attachment so long as the spawn is removed and preserved within a reasonable time. You could seed her repeatedly: train the human female to perform to your liking. It will want you to seed her. She’ll beg for it.”

  The tip of two bright crimson tentacles slipped and circled the merchant’s upheld finger. With each pass, a tingling sensation excited the feelers. There was something about that human’s juices that was absolutely delicious.

  Trilling, the merchant asked. “Do you feel that? The acidity of its secretions increases your sensation. Imagine such bliss slathered over your mating flange. Human physiology can provide you with so much more than a simple vessel. Entertainment, pleasure, a pet to provide sweet milk at your whim…”

  As far as Glabrx knew, no other Necrimata Warrior possessed so rare or reusable a vessel. If everything was true, great profit could be made selling his spawn back to the homeworld for training and service to the cause. If able to mate at a whim, his species would expand exponentially… others would desire a human. He could even rent out this pet for added compensation.

  The use of human females could turn the tides of wars, populate worlds with workers. It might even have the proper genetics to enhance his spawn and produce powerful warriors.

  And pleasure… writhing his flange in that tight, fleshy hole was a reward an honorable warrior of his rank deserved.

  He wanted the human.

  Two of Glabrx’s tentacles impatiently butted up against the human’s containment pod.

  Accustomed to Necrimata aggression, the insectoid made the offer that would seal the transaction. “Great Glabrx, sample the creature yourself. One taste and you will know the price I ask is nothing.”

  To see the restrained thing filled with flange here, now, with a foul Cenoid watching? Already his mating organ had begun to emerge, flapping eagerly toward the scented crevice spread on display before him.

  Whispering the enticem
ent, the merchant urged, “Use the human. Sample its offerings. Specifics can be discussed later, and should you damage it, it can be repaired.”

  The human trembled in its pod, slit still flushed, nipples distended from the suctioning device. Eyes open, it stared up, seeing nothing. But its flesh had flushed a pleasing pink, its padded lips were parted, even its eyes seemed hungry for any touch, any sensation before sensory deprivation drove it mad.

  The female had no clue what was coming for it.

  Glabrx had seen it squirm at the knobby finger of the merchant. He had heard its squeaks from brief stimulation. What would it do when possessed by a ranked warrior with a large and hungry flange? Would it make more squeaks? Would its eyes flare and its mouth gape? More importantly, would there be any fulfilment in seeding a creature that survived rut after rut. Prey was supposed to die, be used for the enrichment of a spawn that would eat its way out of it. A true warrior’s pleasure came from the hunt, the physical release from the mounting and planting an afterthought.

  The triangle shaped pad of his flange began pulsating, stretching forward toward the nest of slippery human flesh the merchant had offered for the seeding. As he’d witnessed the Cenoid do, the tip of his engorged, veiny flange tapped the small nub at the top of the parted lower lips. A zing raced up his protrusion. It was as the merchant said; something in the human’s chemistry affected the flesh of his mating organ. Pleasant tingles sent his flange to engorge until blood vessels stood proudly. This, and he had not even penetrated the creature. Fighting to control his thrashing flange, he slithered over and over the human’s nub. The creature in the containment pod went wild. Had it been possible, it seemed to try to spread its pinioned legs even wider in invitation.

  The offering was accepted, and with a warrior’s growl, Glabrx’s flange surged into that little crevice. Serpenting past the fleshy lips to burrow in that slippery channel, he found the merchant had not lied. All around his girth, the human’s internal mechanisms were squeezing his accordion-like flange. Despite his prominent ridges and sticky valley, it was trying to force him out, the pulsating ring of muscles encouraging the opposite reaction. Deeper Glabrx stretched her, his hands slamming atop the containment pod. Every last tentacle held to human legs as they would his prey, entrapping each limb more securely than any manipulation cuffs might.