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Emrys grunts as my desperate motions put him over the edge. He likes to be self-controlled. He likes to decide when he climaxes. But a hot human ass writhing on his cock is too much even for this royal valker. His fangs are exposed as his lips curl and he lets out a cry more like a howl, pumping my ass full of his seed while Kronos ensures that my pussy continues to contact and draw his seed deeper inside me.
Emrys pulls free, but I am still upside down, soaked and filthy and covered in come when we collectively hear a voice of stern disapproval.
“What have you two done?”
I let out a giggle as Atlas comes striding out of the house, baby monitor in hand, an expression of intense displeasure on his human mask. Seeing him upside down does little to make him look less irritated.
“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times. Missionary only! Anything else breaks her programming!”
“I’m not fucking this perfect thing missionary,” Emrys says. “And, scythkin, you have no right to tell us how to fuck.”
“Look at her. I had her in perfect housewife mode when she went outside and now she’s back to being a feral blood soaked, come covered…” he draws in a breath and lets out a deep sigh. “This is supposed to be a place for her to be proper. A good wife and mother. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
Emrys swings me up into his arms, catching me as I come squealing through the air.
“None of us want that,” he says, my butt perched on his forearm as he snugs me tight.
“What none of us want is a lose, pregnant human doing whatever she pleases in an infinite universe. I’m going to have to recondition her.”
“Not yet,” Emrys says. “I like talking to the real woman. The one you make is boring. She smiles at nothing and makes comments about the weather.”
“That’s small talk! It’s an indication of a settled and healthy human mind. The smaller the talk, the happier the human. That’s science.”
There’s something about the way Atlas says that’s science which makes me think it might not be.
“Stop reminding her of the past. Let her settle here. She is doing well, most of the time, until you start winding her up. It makes her start to question things, and that makes her fight the programming. It’s not good for her.”
“Being kept like a doll in a doll house isn’t good for her either,” Emrys says.
“Isn’t it? She’s had one baby in calm and safety. She’s not gotten into any trouble at all. She’s been happy and settled and she has a future here. If you fuck with this, Emrys, I will make you pay.”
Atlas is not happy. Kronos also looks on with an unhappy expression. Nobody is entirely pleased with the way things are going. I remember everything by this stage. I know that I am stuck in this simulation, a place designed to keep a human safely tucked away living a fake life.
“Put me down,” I say to Emrys. “I need to check the baby.”
He lets me go, and I smooth my skirt down over my ravaged nethers before walking past Atlas with the most demure expression I can muster.
I clean up before I go to the baby, washing my sensitive areas and restoring myself to some semblance of propriety. I change my dress and I brush my hair and I ensure that there are no little flecks of dinner on my body.
As I wash I reflect that I don’t actually mind this little life. It is small, and it is simple, but Atlas is right… it is safe. I am safe from the world outside, and the aliens who still have bones to pick with me. More importantly, I am safe from my own broken impulses.
The baby is sleeping when I go into his room. I know better than to wake him and start the cycle of feeding again. Instead, I stand next to the crib and look down at his innocent, sweet, fanged face. This baby is part human, part numahn, and a whole lot of Emrys. His existence is a beautiful miracle that came out of a terrible travesty. When I am under the influence of the simulation, all I see is my perfect child. Now, I see every bit of suffering that went into his creation. I could erase it all by surrendering to Atlas again. But I don’t know if I should. Life is pain, and I am beginning to believe that sometimes it is important to remember that overcoming suffering is the only way to be happy.
I hear Atlas come into the room behind me. Only he would be foolish enough to follow me. The others have what they wanted, and know how I relish these moments with Rhys.
“You can’t keep erasing everything,” I tell Atlas. “And please, take that suit off. I want to see you for what you really are.”
My scythkin husband hesitates. “But the programming is only going to get more broken if I appear before you that way. You’ve been safe and happy with it intact. If it wasn’t for those two fools…”
“I’m not happy. I’m a shadow of myself. Even if you could permanently erase everything about me you think is challenging or sad, it wouldn’t leave me better. It would leave me empty.
Atlas sighs and unzips himself. My mild-mannered handsome husband turns into the shining dark monster once more, his hardened carapace gleaming in the nursery light. His face is always harder to read in this form, because it is so brutal.
A scythkin warrior has no business in a nursery. I see that immediately, even though he has none of his blades extended. What on earth am I asking for? What right do I have to try to be myself, when my true self is so terribly dangerous?
With my mind finally functioning properly for the first time in a while, I find myself understanding Atlas’ intentions more and more. He just wants things to be nice.
“I don’t like being like this around Rhys,” he says. “It’s not safe. He shouldn’t see me like this.”
