His heavy stomach ached with the kicks of the babies, Circe’s hands and lips trailing across their movements beneath the stretched skin in ecstasy. “Darlings,” she whispered into his womb, “my darlings.” Then her eyes came up and met his. “My darling.”
Nervous loved her. Not like Loki did, but in a way that was still important. Loki couldn’t give Circe what she wanted, after all, but Nervous could: her children in a womb she’d created within him. She’d told him that if he did well, they’d have more, and even just recalling the thought of her words made him grow hard, her hands now pushing his shirt up more, her mouth following to kiss at tender breasts before sucking almost painfully at his hardened nipples.
It hadn’t been that hard, really, on him: he’d lived with them for so long that he couldn’t remember a life before. He’d seen all their experiments, been them quite often, but still had found the Beakers sometimes whispering behind closed doors in defeated tones. Circe’s cries from her lab when she was all alone. Loki destroying photos of people who looked like him. He’d known they too were hurting inside, like he was, longing for something they could never have.
His mother had been vague memories even when he’d arrived, as if his mind didn’t want to remember her. His father he never knew; it helped him understand Circe better. When she’d sat alone in her lab as Loki stayed late at work on a project he wouldn’t discuss, it had been Nervous to sit beside her. He didn’t know why he had, Pascal had told him to be careful because she was just as bad as Loki, but Nervous discovered she wasn’t. Neither of them were bad, really. They were fucked up, sure, but that didn’t make you bad, or Nervous would have been as bad as them.
“My darling,” Circe whispered again, her lithe body curling around his, their babies just days away from coming into the world. She cupped one of his enlarged breasts as she sucked on the other, so sensitive it almost hurt, but he’d told her he liked it. He liked the way her flat, muscular stomach pressed against his expanded one, and the way her eyes grew dark when she looked at him as if he was the sexiest man alive and not a freak. “Watcher!” she groaned, the hand at his breast falling to stroke his full womb. He’d told her how much he liked that too, to be fondled, to be caressed, to be touched there. She’d said she was glad and that she liked it too, so very much. That was when she’d said that if he did well, they’d have more, and already he wanted it, to be pregnant over and over with her children, another set of triplets to follow these, more after that.
Watcher! he wanted to carry them all, her mouth trailing back down over the impossible bulge of his center, pressing kisses and caressing hands over every inch. When she fell to her knees before him, he didn’t hesitate to spread his legs wide, her hands removing the blanket she’d put over him. For modesty, she liked to say when she’d check on their babies inside him, as if there was anything left for them to be modest about between each other.
Her body, brought to scientific perfection yet unable to do this one thing.
His body, scrawny and pale yet rendered fertile and full by her dedication.
One hand gripped his erection, the other pressed into his distended belly. Her mouth pressed against the underside of his stomach, so that he could not see her but he could feel her lips. “Mine,” she whispered. “Mine,” her hands stroking him.
Nervous had never really had a family. Circe hadn’t either. Loki had made things complicated, with what he did, but now Nervous was making it right again. A family would mean there was love in this house, not fear and hatred. A family would mean they’d be accepted as they were, even if the world rejected them. A family would mean everything to Nervous, and to Circe, and to Loki too.
“Watcher, Nervous,” she moaned before taking his hard cock in her mouth, taking his legs from the stirrups to place his thighs over her shoulders before her hands were running across his stomach over and over and over. He placed his hands on her head and closed his eyes, enjoying her mouth and her touch and her experiment come to fruition within him.
He watched from the door, the way his wife sucked her little toy off, the way she stroked his distended stomach. Triplets, of course: Loki was surprise Nervous hadn’t exploded yet. But his wife had had to one up him, to punish him for what he’d done, so what was the man to do?
Circe had needed children that were hers, and Loki had wanted to give her that, but his research had shown that the only way for him to get what he’d wanted, she wouldn’t get what she’d wanted. He’d thought at the time that she’d have forgiven him by now, when he went ahead with the experiment. Apparently not. Maybe he should have researched her feelings before the procedure.
The door closed, Loki made his way to the bedroom where his children slept: his children, not hers. He’d pretended they were, had told Atom and Ceres to call her Mamma, but his little clones had been too intelligent too soon and Circe had been denied that which she’d wanted. Nervous had gone alone with it all, like the simpleton he was, and in a way that was what had made Loki appreciate him. Nervous had understood Circe like Loki hadn’t. Maybe another research project in the waiting.
His children slept, uncaring to what was happening around them. Deep down, he’d hoped they’d be like he had been a child, but no: they took after him too much, were too much him as he was now. They did what they had to to advance, and they lost themselves in their science and their inventions, and they weren’t concerned with trifles like a family. Maybe he’d made a mistake, in the experiment.
Continuing through the house, Loki let himself into the kitchen. It’d been where he’d told her, that he’d studied how the aliens seem to impregnate the males, that he’d duplicated their technology and created clones that he’d then embedded within himself. He’d thought she’d be happy, to have a family, to experience a pregnancy with him. It was such a kink for her, after all, and he’d learned to love it to, but she’d seen things differently. Left him to masturbate in their bed, alone, as she had an affair with any high ranked scientist she could.
Just like the triplets implanted in Nervous, she always had to punish Loki, her masochist husband. Always had to one up him in some way.
He’s learned, since then. He’s learned since he was a teen and thought throwing punches solved problems. He’s learned since he was early in his career and thought it’d be better for Erin not to remember her big brother, to set her free after their parents’ deaths.
Erin. Like a ghost, she haunted him, fulfilling his deepest fears. He still checked in on her, from time to time, even if she didn’t remember him now: she lived with the hybrid sisters of those Curious morons and some other lady who seemed fine enough. From what he could tell, the hybrids had their own experiments to perform on the human women, and Loki imagined his sister pregnant with an alien baby. The thought didn’t upset him, only that he’d miss out on her happiness.
That he’d miss out on another chance to have a family.
At work that day, the youngest of the Curious morons had made the same joke he always did, “Loki, you always keep it so low-key.” Between thoughts of him finally getting abducted and impregnated, Loki had had a breakthrough, and even that stupid laughter hadn’t been able to dent his mood at the discovery.
Loki couldn’t take back what he’d done, cutting Erin out, implanting the clones in his own artificial womb, denying Circe not just what she wanted but a part in the conversation. Those things were what they were.
What Loki could do was accept her: accept what she had done in response, accept her children with Nervous, accept that he had done wrong and she had done wrong and they were learning even this many years into their marriage. Hell, maybe they’d even impregnate Nervous together next time.
Now that was an arousing thought.
The first time she’d met them was when she was dating Vidcund, and he’d told her about his theory of how to get abducted. Her heart had raced as they’d rolled her into the clean room, as they’d prepared to continue their long term experiment through her. The thought had taken over her mind, and then it had been so close: a child of her own, growing inside her.
But the aliens had rejected her, said their diagnostic exams showed she wasn’t viable for the experiment. She didn’t meet the criteria required, so they’d put her back where they’d picked her up from. She’d dumped Vidcund the next day.
Pascal had tried to give her more information, and she’d let him in to gain it, but the outcome was the same: an alien leaning over her on the table, explaining she couldn’t be part of their experiment, his hand even then still caressing her flat stomach and small breasts.
Loki had thought the alien thing was stupid, and by then Circe had too. If they didn’t want her, then fuck them, she didn’t want them either. The Beakers had set up their labs, and taken in Nervous for their experiments, and set about manipulating their jobs to help them with their personal research.
But the thought had lingered.
Loki had meant it, and put his heart into his work, excelling past her. He’d taken an interest in the aliens only when it suited him, when Pascal and Vidcund had published what their experiences had been like in great detail. But Circe had always been distracted, giving more at home, at night, than she did at the job. What did the job matter if she couldn’t have her child? If she wasn’t fit for an experiment in breeding?
Breeding was her kink. Deep down, in the part of her that no one was to see, in the part of her that she’d never put into words, it manifested: breeding. Swollen breasts full of milk. A distended stomach, stretched by the potential contained within. The shifting of the hip bones. The helplessness of the one being experimented on. It was what made Circe’s fantasies go round.
That was why what Loki had done hurt her so much: he knew. He was the only person she’d told this secret, and alone they’d played at it, taking turns, but he’d betrayed her. He’d impregnated himself without her, without a thought, without a care, without letting her be part of it, without letting her have the family she craved.
She wanted to be the center of the family, the one the others revolved around, the one they wanted to help with their research or to take the lead in their experiment. She wanted to experience the act of breeding for herself, despite what the aliens insisted when she snuck away for her third abduction. “It isn’t possible, Human. You must understand.”
Circe couldn’t stay at home while her husband ripened, his twins growing within him. She might forgive him just to indulge in her fantasies so instead she’d hurt him to hurt herself, finding every scientist studying breeding and pollination in their area. The head of the office? Rode him on his desk as he promised to fill her with his children. The professor with the record for most abductions? Sucked him off out in the open one night as he’d described what it’d been like. Even Pascal Curious, just to really hurt Loki, while he was pregnant a second time, Circe imagining she’d done that to him as he panted beneath her on all fours, pegging him until he cried out and came a second time then a third time. The feeling of his body softened by the aliens had made her feel alive like nothing else.
And then there was Nervous. Sweet, naive, wonderful Nervous. She hadn’t even thought of him until he’d suggested it with a blush one evening, crossing his legs as Circe had put away her papers. Suddenly she hadn’t been alone, in her desires, in her need for a family. Suddenly she was the one deciding the criteria of the experiment, what was and was not possible. She’d laid him out on the table careful, put his legs in the stirrups with great care, followed the steps her husband had outlined to recreate the aliens’ procedure. His heart had raced when she’d told him all three embryos had taken. Her heart had raced when he’d asked if she’d find his body attractive.
She didn’t need Loki, or his clones, or her job, or anyone else. She didn’t need Nervous even, he could have been replaced with anyone, one of her friends she’d made when being home had been too much so she’d gone out to find sympathetic strangers. She didn’t need anyone specific, she could be like the aliens and take whoever she caught.
And that was what made this all so much more wonderful, sucking Nervous’s cock, stroking his swollen stomach, feeling the movement beneath her palms. She didn’t need those things but she chose them, chose to make a family out of her mess of a husband and his clones and Nervous and the children he’d soon give her.
Her love for Loki, which had never waned.
Her love for Nervous, which grew with each day they shared.
It was a complicated situation, absolutely, nowhere near the clean experiment she’d imagined, but when had her life never not been complicated? She didn’t need a clear conclusion to the research she was conducting. Circe just needed to have her needs met, and met they were within her lover’s body, a family waiting to start.
The report showed the hybrid twins were having success, but flipping further into the writeup showed the pollination technician that in fact one of the hybrid twins was having success with the designated pollination receivers. The other one was causing fights and threatening the long term experiment. He’d have to do something about that.
Erin Beaker, the report said one of the receivers was named. It indicated the more successful twin had already had one child with her, and a second was on its way. Neither child showed physical signs of their alien descent in their so far sequenced genes, yet both retained the desired genes sought out. Excellent.
Kristen Loste, that was the other pollination receiver the successful twin had taken on as well. Pregnant for the first time. Possibly twins, not intentionally bred to be so. The pollination technician would have to keep his eyes on that. Perhaps something to add to the list of desired genes.
He made a note: Lola Curious, allow to continue; Chloe Curious, review.
It was a pity though, he thought, putting the report down. Here he was, reading about the sexually gratifying pollinations others were allowed to perform. He, on the other hand, had been made a supervisor within the project, no more receivers of his own to breed. He must have upset a colony drone being bred with a birth queen, to be so punished.
Then again, his part in the experiment had only been so so. The hybrid twins had had three brothers, two of whom he’d had the pleasure of pollinating. One of them he’d even pollinated twice, when he knew his time was short in being able to do so anymore. That hadn’t been for the experiment: that had been for the pure pleasure for fucking a child into such a willing and beautiful receiver. The human had even begged for more to be impregnated within him, and if the diagnostic tests had showed it to be a possibility, the pollination technician would have done it. Pity they had shown it would have been unstable, risking negative outcomes.
Pascal, that’s what his name had been. Such a pleasure to pollinate, such a pleasure to breed and birth, unlike his brother. Vidcund? Something like that. He’d left a note of warning for whoever took the third brother, that he might be feisty like their father and that Vidcund had been.
Then again, the pollination technician knew he too had perhaps grown feisty, the longer he spent away from the colony. When he had volunteered to leave, he’d known there’d be the risk that he might never return: it had been what happened to the pollination technician that trained him. The thought had seemed improbable at the time. Now it seemed almost welcomed.
Perhaps he’d stay here permanently. Find Pascal and continue to breed him. The point was, after all, to create the desired genetics to establish a new colony here. They had done it on other planets to varying levels of success. Would anyone mind if he did it without the blessings of his designated birth queens? There were no birth queens here, only pollination receivers.
The next report waiting his review described the brother of one of the receivers they were breeding, someone named Loki. This human knew many others they had bred and matched many of their desired criteria. What had caused him to be flagged was his research into how pollination occurred. It had been impressive as technicians were rare due to the complexity of their work, having to be carefully bred by the birth queens. The report indicated that this Loki had even self bred to create twin clones. What potential he had then! Perhaps the pollination technician could stay and continue to breed Pascal while also breeding this Loki. His youth with multiple pollination receivers had been so satisfying, after all. A never ending supply of large breasts producing milk, larger stomachs producing children as he saw fit. They’d begged for him to fuck them nonstop, and like a good technician he had. It would have been bad for the experiment not to have.
Ah but here was the catch with this Loki: he was married to the one they couldn’t breed. Three times he had tested her, prepared her on the table, imagined what she’d be like when full and ready to be delivered. Even now the thought aroused him, her beautiful red hair that was so fascinating to them, her intelligence and strong instincts. But the tests always came back negative. He didn’t know why but he couldn’t breed her. She was not to be a pollination receiver.
If only she’d been of his kind, then she could have been a pollination technician. Instead she was a human seeking something like what they called a family. The pollination technician would have to remember to suggest that to Pascal: a family. It could be nice.
He watched from his seat, the view through his world to theirs clear. There was his son, and there were the two scientists he lived with. One babe already screamed with life. Another was in the midst of being born.
He remembered when his son was born. Olive had screamed and cried and he had loved it all. He had breathed life into his child. He had said this was the only exception, after what had happened with her. Olive had accepted the conditions he had had to put around their relationship. Olive had seen the loopholes to bring him to her.
Soon he would take Olive. First he would breathe life into his son a second time.
If he could have, he wouldn’t have maintained such a distance. He wouldn’t have watched his son be taken away from Olive, driven only by her desire to see him again. What a strange create she had always been. Perhaps that was why he had made her an exception.
She had been nothing like her. When he had met her, she had been young and he had been alive. She had bore him many children. She had said she never wanted to stop, and he hadn’t wanted to either. Then she had died, no longer quite as young but still the bride he had married. He had tried to save her. He had sold his soul to save her. It hadn’t been enough. That was when he had decided no more. Never again.
The children she had born him had died soon after her. The child Olive had born him had been born dead. He had given him life. He still had a heart, after all.
The scientists fascinated him. At first he had hated them, had hated how they treated his son. But now his son was happy, and they treated him like the prince he was. He had seen many things in the many years he had held his position, nothing took him by surprise anymore, so his son heavy with children had been but another observation to make. Where his son lived, many such observations were made, after all.
Perhaps he could use the scientists. Perhaps he could use them to find answers never given to him. Answers never given to her.
He remembered Loki Beaker who feared him so. It was good to fear him. The dead were rarely content, and he so often brought death.
He remembered Circe Salamis who had looked at him without hesitation. She had observed her father’s death as he had. Sometimes she reminded him of Olive, something wrong within that was right.
His son wanted children, and he wanted answers. Loki Beaker wanted knowledge, and Circe Salamis wanted life. There was a way to satisfy everyone here. What a rare observation for him.
The third child had been born. All three screamed with life as his son cried in happiness. He would be alright. He would return to check soon on his family.
In the meantime, there was a general to wage war with.