the luculla hive: alien

This is a chapter of the luculla hive, an erotic science-fiction novel. WARNING: Do not start with this episode. Really! Go to the beginning.

19 August 2405

14.721097/106.372952/[2400]01:44:04.0/-15:56:15/3 Luculla
Voice log [Judith Hobson]

Narrative augmentation on

21:32:10
I knew the moment would come; the moment that the Hive would reject me: an intruder, a disease.

I was never really one of them. For too long I had lived the comfortable delusion that it might not matter. Perhaps they did too. But my way of love was not compatible with theirs, and I turned on them, and they on me; and now? Now I can never return, and the forest is dark.

I was not aware of it, but I'm sure that Katie was already bending the rules many days before the end. In fact, it was not long after the old Queen’s departure that the new Queen came to my chamber--and the fact that she came to us might have suggested that Katie was avoiding her, if I had been able to think impartially.

As it was, her sudden appearance was mortifying. Even after weeks in the hyper-sexual world of the Hive, and even after tumbling headlong into love with one its members, I still had not laid aside my embarrassment at the act of sex, nor at my own less than perfect body. The moment she came into sight I was wrestling with Katie, naked and giggling, both of us simultaneously trying to administer cunnilingus to our silent youthful charge (whom I had now named ‘Pixie’, after her elfish aspect).

The first I knew that there was anyone there was when fingers interposed between my mouth--squashed as it was against Katie’s--and the vulva we were trying to reach with our tongues. One finger slipped gently inside, and the following palm began to rub expertly over the clitoris above. For a moment I thought it was Pixie herself, grown tired of our silliness. But something jarred in the skin colour and the angle of the wrist.

My eyes trailed upwards and I froze, the laughter vanishing from my throat. The hand and arm belonged to a lean Lady with short black hair and oriental features; breathtakingly beautiful of course, but severe in aspect, and tightly efficient in the way she took charge of Pixie’s pleasure.

Something about her made me cringe in shame; even though her eyes were not on me, but had taken Pixie’s gaze and held it; just like her hands were holding Pixie’s body, the other behind her neck. The finger that had so smartly tucked into Pixie’s vagina was partly withdrawn, and somehow I knew that the Lady was testing how wet she was--and I also knew that we had failed the test.

I wondered what to do. It occurred to me to be indignant, but my embarrassment was so much stronger. I found myself looking to Katie to try and judge what I should feel--of course she appeared unperturbed, and even leaned forward to kiss me.

I moved my head slightly back to deny her. ‘Who is this?’ I said weakly. I had a strong desire to put my clothes on, to cover the unsightliness of my body.

Katie glanced up. ‘Queen,’ she said neutrally. Her eyes lingered a fraction, taking in the lean feminine shape; adding a bristle of jealousy to my discomfiture. The Queen’s hand was moving with a punctuated rhythm: her finger drawing wetness from within, then sharply vibrating over Pixie’s clitoris before tucking down and inside again. It looked almost clinical, a protocol designed to smartly bring its object to orgasm.

My own arousal, built upon Katie’s loving playfulness, was just as efficiently quashed. But Pixie, young, adaptable, perhaps awed by the Queen’s attention, had quickly recovered from any surprise. Her each breath was appreciably louder than the last, catching her vocal chords and truncated sharply by her lips: ‘hep... hep... hep!’

Were she not so obviously rising to climax, perhaps my indignation would have overflowed. As it was I simply stood, turning my back in disgust. I even felt a strange echo of my former self: this act of sex, so apparently devoid of emotion, lacked eroticism in the same way that lesbian pornography had, before the Hive changed me.

Katie followed me, even bumping into me when I hesitated, uncertain where to take myself. The soft press of her skin on mine was stabilising, and allowed my anger to take on a more distinct structure.

‘She can’t just walk in here,’ I hissed at her; although of course I knew that no concept of privacy really existed in the Hive, unless it were in the chambers of the secretive drones.

Katie glanced back and shrugged (a gesture she had learnt from me). ‘Pix happy,’ she observed. She always had a way of addressing my real problem instead of the one I broached verbally; I am sure she picked up more from my body than from my voice.

There was no denying the truth; but Pixie’s sounds were grating on my nerves. ‘That’s not happy,’ I spat. ‘She’s just getting fucked.’ Before Katie could respond to my petulance I ran on: ‘What does the Queen want here?’

Before I realised my mistake Katie had stepped lightly away, back to where the Queen was kneeling, lifting Pixie inexorably higher, fingers circling with mechanical force; and engaged her in the Hive’s normal means of conversation. That is to say, she kissed her, heavily, leaning down and around from above; and her breasts played on the Queen’s shoulder.

I felt nauseous. With a shout of frustration I retreated to the chamber’s washing area. I did not have the energy to dress, but sat on the floor, muttering to myself about the Hive’s bizarre ways.

Katie later explained that the Queen was simply checking on Pixie. I believed her. After all, Pixie was the latest addition to the Hive, and it had occurred to me to be honoured that Katie and I were charged with her care.

It was an exhausting task. The basic necessities of life were no trouble--everyone in the Hive has them in abundance--but Pixie’s sexual demands were practically continuous, far in excess of even Katie’s. For some reason Katie never took her to a drone: so every moment one or both of us were to some degree having sex with her, except on the occasion that another Lady was visiting us. I was working hard to extend her tolerance of lighter petting, but minutes were the best I could do before she began to press for her next orgasm.

This singular obsession with sexual stimulation must somehow relate to their Lucullan mode of reproduction. In the phenogenic mass in the centre of the Hive there is continuous sexual activity. Perhaps it is a necessary catalyst for the incredible processes there; putting the body in a state that is amenable to reproduction, even if by entirely alien means. The Hive members have no other obvious physical adaptations. Their sexual organs are all apparently human despite their other variances--they even have normal breasts, which seem to have a purely sexual role.

In any case it appears that this remarkable sex drive is at least a little diminished with time as an independent Hive member. But even for elder Ladies like Katie it is beyond the normal range for humans. Perhaps it must be maintained in order to motivate elders to re-assimilate.

And this was the terrible thought on which my mind would not dwell. Was re-assimilation voluntary?

Would Katie be taken from me?

I suspect now that the Queen was not checking on Pixie at all. Her motive was even more important to the survival of the Hive. She was there to remind Katie of her duty.

There may have been other clues, but I was just as blind to them. Katie was more devoted to me than ever; naturally I welcomed this, but paid no attention to the diminishing frequency with which she greeted and conversed with other Hive members. We spent more time in the forest, and her fearless joy leading Pixie and me on made me forget about the still mysterious killer of Raja and the Professor. In the wild, Pixie’s irrepressible energy always meant that, if not entwined with Katie or me, she would be pelting away or climbing so high she was lost to sight.

Katie’s work with Pixie meant she only rarely went to a drone herself; and desperately beautiful though Pixie is, on these occasions I would almost resent the physical and emotional effort of keeping her satisfied while Katie was away.

Perhaps this was why, when the drone came to us, I did not immediately appreciate the real significance of the moment.

I have never been with a drone, and now I never will; but burned forever into my memory are Katie’s paroxysms of pleasure in a drone’s arms on the occasion that I spied on her. That was the moment I became aware of the true role of sex in the Hive--not just for communication, not just for entertainment; but a constant right and necessity.

Now I was sitting on the ‘bed’ against the wall, Katie sitting spooned against me, my nose buried in the fragrance of her hair while Pixie squatted lithely in front, one hand on Katie and one on herself. I was entranced, trying without trying to become one with Katie; glimpsing the sweet shuddering of Pixie’s small conical breasts as she worked her fingers.

However Pixie was too eager for her own pleasure to properly accommodate Katie’s different needs. I could feel from the irregular jolts that passed through Katie’s body that she was tensing up, trying with each release to ratchet up her own heat. But she was failing, falling behind, and I was sure that her frustration would soon overflow.

Then the drone appeared beyond Pixie’s shoulder. I gasped and sat straighter; watched paralysed as the warrior guiding it turned away impassively; and it loomed forward hungrily. Katie must have seen it too, and I saw her arm reach out to it almost desperately.

Again, my own arousal was totally lost, this time to fright. I felt trapped. The drone was there: smooth, flawless skin supple over weighty muscles and breasts, ruby lips in a blank eyeless face, grotesque in its physical dedication to sex; and there was only Katie’s body--seeming suddenly diminished in both size and substance--between it and me.

It overwhelmed her like a tide, one strong arm around her back clamping her, body to breasts, mouth to mouth. I cried out; squirming out from behind them, so that they collapsed awkwardly against the wall. Once more I did not know what to feel; disgust and fear swarmed over me, dulling my thoughts and perceptions. So I do not recall properly what they were doing; I only know that Katie’s need was met, filled to overflowing, and the movements and sounds of the three of them together recalled to me that deep place under the Hive where there are no people, only sex.

I dressed hastily, left the chamber. My eyes smarted with tears. I stumbled a few steps, ran a few more, stopped and leaned on a wall, wheezing. Someone passed behind me in the corridor, but I paid no heed.

What was I doing in this place? I did not belong. I had to get out. The thought of fresh air drove me back into motion. A lady passed me going the other way, eyed me unemotionally. Then two cat-girls, slinking side-by-side.

Two ladies, achingly graceful, hand in hand. Workers. Warriors.

Suddenly I remembered. The only other time I had seen a drone out of place. Hive members, converging. Horror dawned.

Without a sound I turned, heaved into a run. I shouldered past someone, tripped, launched back onto my feet unheeding. As I came closer to my chamber I could see the crowd gathering, the first signs of ritualistic sex crashing into my mind, driving me forward. ‘Katie!’ I screamed. ‘Katie!’

I barged in, past naked bodies with searching hands. There were several more Ladies there now, splayed over my bed, cradling Katie. She looked befuddled, as though the drone had completed its work, but its head was now between her legs and I could see the surging of a new, duller rapture rising in her eyes.

But she knew what was happening as well as I did. At the sight of me she seemed to focus. ‘Judith?’ she said, slowly. I came to her, grasped her hand, ignoring a cry of hurt from someone whose skin was pinched beneath my foot. ‘Judith,’ she said again, then, clearly, ‘I don’t want to go.’

I burst into tears. ‘Don’t go,’ I pleaded. ‘You don’t have to.’

She shook her head slightly, but her eyes were still locked onto mine. ‘Must,’ she said simply. She had her hand on the drone’s head, ready to push it away, but she did not seem to have the will. ‘Old ones must go. New ones come.’

I had both of my hands on her arm. ‘It doesn't have to be you! Let someone else go.’ I sobbed. ‘I love you!’

I was appalled to see a tear form in Katie’s eye. I had never seen anyone in the Hive cry, and it was like a dewdrop on a desert dune under a blinding midday sun. She was fully with me now; and I held her gaze, showing her the depth of my love.

‘Judith,’ she repeated, so clearly in pain, so quiet.

I leaned a little to add pressure to the head of the drone; closed the fingers of my other hand around Katie’s arm, tugged gently. ‘Let’s go,’ I said brokenly. ‘Let’s leave. Perhaps they won’t follow.’

At that moment the Queen rose into sight from the other side of Katie’s body, like a beautiful ghoul. She had hold of Katie’s hand. The drone slipped away. The Queen was drawing Katie to her feet. All around, slick, soft, organic sounds. The Queen guided Katie’s chin around to kiss her.

I snapped. Cried out, grasped the Queen’s chin in turn, pushed with all my might. She toppled over bodies close behind her. I almost followed, but Katie caught me.

Our eyes locked for a moment. We needed no words. Hand in hand, we forged for the chamber’s entrance.

The Queen’s alarm followed us like a tangible wave. I could almost see her will, her enmity, as it was passed from mouth to mouth, hand to hand around us. Just as we clambered free of the chamber I glimpsed it reaching a warrior, and it leaped to its feet in an explosion of power.

We were out and flying, dodging around and over entwined bodies. They watched us, not yet aware of the emergency: the Hive’s reliance on touch for communication was working in our favour. Katie was pulling me onward, faster than I would ever had dared to run inside the Hive.

We almost made it to the forest, before the warriors caught us.

It was inevitable, of course. Even Katie by herself would not have been able to outpace them. There was no need for violence. They simply surrounded us with a wall of powerful flesh, and slowed us to a halt. I pushed, barged, flailed at them frantically, with no more effect than if they were statues.

Incredibly, Katie approached one, then another, and touched them, even kissed them. It was a moment before I realised what she was doing: she was entreating them, perhaps commanding them, to let us free. She was railing at them. In the sometimes harsh motions of her hands and the convulsions of her body against them, she might have been shouting.

It did no good. Their expressions remained impassive, the set of their bodies impregnable. Desperation welled up unchecked. Katie turned to me, lines of tears streaking her freckled cheeks. We held each other.

A moment later the Queen emerged into the circle of warrior bodies, and unceremoniously took Katie’s hand again, ignoring me. Katie’s eyes did not leave mine, but her body went rigid, and the press of her skin diminished. I cried out in fury and fear. Couldn’t the Queen see how she was hurting us?

‘I love her!’ I pleaded. ‘Please don’t take her from me!’

The Queen’s other hand lifted to Katie’s arm, then slipped gently onto her breast. For a fraction of a second I was appalled at this harassment. Then, suddenly, I realised what I was doing wrong. A desperate idea came to me; my last chance.

I interposed myself in front of the Queen, and kissed her.

With my lips, with my tongue, with my hands and body, I told her of my love for Katie. I did not know how to form words, but I did not need to. I divested every motion, every caress, with the same entreaty: don’t take her from me.

The Queen listened. She did not speak, did not caress me in turn, did not allow her tongue to flick forward. But she permitted my touch, accepted me, and in the responses of her body I could feel my message reaching inward, from skin to nerve, to muscle and bone. I made my final appeal direct to her vulva. It was soft under my fingers.

I stepped back. The Queen stood still, her eyes upon mine. They flicked to Katie, then to the ground. My heart was hammering.

She retreated to the line of warriors, reached out with either hand. Something passed from one to the other, around us. I watched until it came to those behind us.

They parted. Beyond them, I could see the eaves of the forest.

Narrative augmentation off

22:23:08

It’s out there. I know it is.

I can feel its eyes on us. I can’t sleep. I can’t make love. Poor Katie, she’s masturbating, when she has to.

But sometimes I see her eyes going to the trees. She knows too.

It’s going to kill us. Oh! I’m so scared.

In the morning, we're going to make for the ship.