Page 25 of The Dalgur’s Pet

“We are on the ship,” a voice said, and she focused on the face.

Dark purple skin, red eyes, four horns, black hair curling over pointed ears, a crooked smile.

Vrix.

“What happened?”

He brushed his fingers through her hair, sitting next to her on the bed.

“You fainted. The first time an incubator receives a clutch can be quite overwhelming. How are you feeling?”

A clutch. They’d given her their eggs, a sensation so grotesque and erotic it made her blanch to think about it, yet stimulated each nerve in her body.

Giselle ignored the question.

“What will happen to the eggs? Won’t they grow unless you remove them?”

“They were not fertilized, dear human,” Vrix said gently, glancing at her stomach.

Her stomach and chest, which were coated with dried seed, thick milky gold stripes swiping across her body. She must have missed the part when they painted her with their cum, though she was relieved to know their clutch wouldn’t destroy her insides.

“And besides,” he continued. “Without a womb, they would have disintegrated either way, though it may have been a more painful process if we had fertilized them.”

Lovely.

“So what will happen to them?” she asked, her voice calming.

“They will dissipate in a few days. You will feel better soon. Are you in any pain?”

She took stock of her body and was surprised to find little soreness. A dull ache between her legs and a bloated stomach, but nothing beyond that.

Vrix must have noticed her confusion, chuckling as he patted her leg.

“I healed you a bit after we brought you to the ship.”

With a nod, she absentmindedly rubbed her hand in circles over her stomach. She was overcome with a strange, protective feeling, even though she knew the eggs were not viable. She’d never wanted children, and the sensation disturbed her, her hand falling to her side.

“The inclination will dispel soon as well. It is part of the biological imperative. We need our hosts to protect our clutches, to be eager to do what is best for the survival of the broodlings.”

Giselle swallowed her disgust, her terror at the way the words were said with such a casual air, as if mind controlling your prey into caring for your spawn was normal and not horrific.

“What will happen when we get to your planet?” she asked, the bliss of her high being replaced with the edge of panic.

The maternal feelings infiltrating her brain disturbed her, and supposedly would only last a few days. What would it be like if they fixed her womb, forced her to birth their actual broodlings?

It was difficult enough being a woman on Earth, and she hadn’t even gotten the worst of it. The state of reproductive rights on her planet disgusted her, but it looked like a utopia compared to what the Dalgurs wanted to subject her to.

Vrix laughed, squeezing her thigh and sending a jolt up her spine.

“We will bring you to the doctor to repair you. Then we can fill you in earnest.”

She nodded, her eyes on the blank wall in front of her, trying to remember the sensation of euphoria from the pool and not the icy terror squeezing her insides. She wouldn’t let that happen, one way or another, she vowed it to herself.

No matter the cost.

“How long until we get there?”

“We should arrive in a few days.”