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“Yes,” I murmur under my breath. “I should do my wifely duty by you.”
He turns me around and looks down at me. I see that little sadness in his stellar gaze. There is a ping of recognition, and the world seems to glitch, the sky breaking apart into little jagged pixels just for a moment. When I look again, it is all back together - but I am left with the indelible feeling that there is something unreal about this place. I might be real. He might be real. But everything around us is…
“What’s your name?”
“Kr… Karl,” he says, not looking very happy at having to say that. I wonder why he lies about his name? Is it the same reason he is wearing a t-shirt and jeans, both of which look as uncomfortable on him as his fake name?
“No, it’s not,” I say. “It’s not your name, is it? What’s mine?”
“Ours,” he says. “Your name is Ours.”
I forgot my name long ago, if I was ever given one. But my husband should know it.
“Ours isn’t a name. It’s a… a word that denotes ownership.”
“Ours is a pretty name,” he says, pushing some of my hair back behind my ear. “Though I always enjoyed calling you Mine.”
He lowers his head and claims my mouth in the kind of kiss that drives all concerns about reality or lack thereof right out of my head. There might be something unreal about this world, but there is nothing fake about this. The physical chemistry and magnetism is a hundred percent real. I sink into his embrace, seeking not only the pleasure he is offering me, but the sense of something meaningful.
“Yes,” he growls as he senses my sexual surrender. “You are a perfect mate. You are a wonderful wife.”
I know I am fortunate to be so well-regarded, because I am not a perfect or wonderful anything. I am a monster wearing the shell of a good wife. I am a creature stitched together from pain and regret and a thousand wounds I no longer remember. I am holes and voids held together by the breaths I just keep taking.
I let him pretend I am perfect. I let him kiss me as if I deserve it. I let him caress me and hold me and I let him lie me down on a patch of grass that is less soaked with the blood of my prey than some other parts. This husband loves me. I can see it in his gaze, and I can feel it in his touch.
He strips the shirt and jeans off his body before joining me down in the bloody dew. The shirt rips as he pulls it off over his head, tearing at the seams. He casts it away and yanks the rough material of the jeans off his legs too. Without that human clothing, he looks closer to alien.
There is a certain attempt to make this world feel as though it is for humans only, but I am not stupid. I am addled. I am lost. I am being kept in a situation I don’t entirely understand… but I know when I am looking at the god-like cock of a barbarous alien capable of intense carnal conquest.
A name tries to float to the front of my mind, but fails in its task. K. It does start with K and it’s not Karl. It doesn’t matter, I suppose, compared to the sight of his muscular, scarred body that is bared with the intention of mating me.
“You will take my seed, and you will bear my young,” he promises me as he crouches over me. “We will make a new life, an embodiment of our love.”
I hope if I do become pregnant, it is with a creature more like him than me. He exudes goodness of a kind that makes me all the more aware of the darkness swirling deep inside me. I don’t think he could ever truly save me from myself, but he might be able to save our progeny.
The sun sets and the sky is filled with stars, pretty silver lights twinkling in predictable patterns above as he makes love to me on the lawn, pushing up my skirt, discovering that I am not wearing underwear. I am wearing stockings, and suspenders, but no panties. There is nothing to stop his big, throbbing alien rod from spearing inside me. There is nothing to stop him from filling me up with his seed.
Pinned beneath him in soft grass, my legs spread and wrapped around his waist, I give myself to him. His body enters mine, his flesh hot and thick. He is so much bigger than I am, his arms like rippling tree trunks on either side of my head as he thrusts his hips over me, guiding his cock deep inside me. I am wrapped around him, my inner walls gripping him tightly, my body performing precisely as it was designed to perform.
This is the closest I will ever get to normality. This lover. This sky. This lawn. This cock throbbing inside me, pulsing with the urge to come. I can see the strain on his face as he tries to hold back from coming too soon. He doesn’t want to just pump me full and dump me, but every instinct he has tells him to get his cock nice and deep inside my tight, wet hole and fill me to the brim.
I want him to know that is okay. His base instincts are the correct ones.
“Please,” I beg in his ear. “Please come.”
He makes a sound somewhere between a grunt and a growl, and I feel his powerful body stiffen in an instant as his virile cock slides as deep inside me as it can humanly go. I am fucked. Deeply fucked. I am used. Completely used. And now I am brimming with alien seed as my captor husband roars in pleasure and fills me all the way up, moving his big hands to clasp my ankles and hold them high. I feel my ass lifting up off the ground as he tips me up onto my shoulders, holding me much like a fisherman might hold a trophy catch.
“What are you doing?” I half-giggle the question.
“Helping my seed find the fertile ground,” he explains. “Gravity is a powerful thing.”
Here I am, my skirt up around my shoulders now, most of my body bare in the silver light of the night. This is undignified, but dignity comes a very distant second to my alien husband. His priority is fertility. He feeds me, breeds me, uses me, keeps me, all to this end.
“You could at least give me something to do while I’m stuck here,” I say. “Give me desert or something?”
A sharp tap on my ass reminds me that though this husband is the most gentle of them, he is not a complete pushover.
“You can meditate on pregnant thoughts,” he says.
