the resulting spawn is as strong as it can be. You are telling me you do not want the honor of spreading your seed across the waiting fresh-laid eggs of a matriarch in her prime?”
“I want you to have something in the wake of our loss,” I tell him. “Your seed shall be spread. Not mine.”
He takes another long draught of synth and regards me with suspicion.
“Or is it that you intend to breed with the human?”
“You know we cannot breed with humans. We lay eggs. They gestate their young inside their bodies. It is not a compatible breeding process.”
“I forget that,” he says. “It is so disgustingly meaty, to carry around their young inside them.”
“Humans are disgusting,” I say, not meaning a word of it. I think humans are beautiful. I think the one I have in storage is the most beautiful one I have ever laid eyes on. I formed a mate bond instantly upon seeing her, and having touched her, taken in her scent, had a taste of her chemical composition, I am even more intrigued by her.
Caged
Silver
He fucked me and I gave him my pleasure. Then he confined me and I feel nothing but despair. In the dark, memories return. Bad memories. Good memories. Memories which make my eyes water, and others which make my hand slip down between my thighs to touch the ravaged places where the scythkin claimed me.
I could come again, thinking about him inside me, knowing that he filled me up first with his cock, and then with his seed. I should have resisted more. I should have stopped myself from enjoying it. But I couldn’t. There is something between us. Something which exists outside the torment I suffer with every day.
Blib blib bloop blib weeeeeee…
The strangest sound arrests my attention. I turn my head toward the source of it. It’s the wall. Of course it’s the wall. This room is all wall and no space. I get closer to it, though I should probably be doing my best to get as far from it as possible.
Something is definitely happening to the wall. It is sort of… bubbling? It is certainly moving in a way I have never seen solid material move before. Just as I am about to touch it, there is a POP!
A thing tumbles through the wall. It is pink and round and fleshy and shiny and kind of gross, covered in a thousand weird egg bumps.
“Oh FUCKING CHRIST!” I scream as all of the bumps open up and blink at me. The thing is covered in eyes. There’s fucking eyes all over it. They all close again, all but two which remain open, staring.
“Sorry,” it says. “I forget how strange I look to you. Believe me, if I could take another form, I would.”
“What the fuck are you?”
“They call me Ham. I’m a prisoner trying to escape.” He boings up to stand on two little pink feet.
He is a shiny basketball covered in eyes, propelled by bouncing around. I should be horrified, but when you are completely alone, you will take anything as company.
“I am also a prisoner, but I can’t escape. How did you get in here?”
“I understood that the wall was a construct, and not objective reality for a being of pure consciousness.”
I think about that for a second. “That’s not useful to me, because I am not a being of pure consciousness. I am made of the same stuff the wall is.”
“That is true. Being condensed into matter is inconvenient. Maybe I can keep you company, and maybe there is no need for either of us to feel so alone? Maybe the walls will not feel so much like walls?”
“If you could get in here, you could get out of here,” I point out. “Why would you stay inside with me if you didn't have to?”
“You’re human,” Ham says. “Humans are rare and interesting. I can spare a little captivity for you. Tell me your story. Tell me who you are, and how you came to be here.”
I slide down the wall and sit. Ham sits in front of me. He has very small feet on the underside of his body, which he tucks in to sit cross-legged. He’s gross and adorable all at the same time.
It has been a long time since I attempted to tell anyone my story. But I suppose I have nothing but time now, and nothing but words to furnish the empty space between us.
“My name is Sylvia, but I