Chasing Cthulhu (Urf Oomons #2)
: Chapter 20

I breathe deeply and revel in Gloria’s scent. She is pleased, happy to see me even though I was following her again. She told me that she is not terrified of me, that she does not find me offensive, and after our interlude in the pod access room, I have no option but to believe her.

‘Well?’ she asks.

‘What?’

‘Are you just going to stand there? Or are you going to disappear again as soon as I turn my back?’

I hold my hands up in supplication. ‘What would you like me to do?’

‘C’mere so I can ask you some questions about this.’ She gestures toward a rendering of Homeworlder anatomy that has been projected onto the medbay wall.

Moving slowly so as not to startle her, I settle next to her and say, ‘Ask your questions.’

‘Are you sure? They’re kind of intrusive questions now that I think about it.’

‘I will gladly help you understand anything you would like to know. I am honored by your interest in my species.’

‘Are you now?’

She has turned a little toward me and smiles.

This seems to be one of those rhetorical questions that humans do not require an answer to, but just in case I perform a human nod of ascent.

Her eyes sparkle and she is just so pretty. She smells good. Curious, happy, mischievous, and excited. And she has that underlying scent common to all females, but better.

She turns back to the anatomical map and gestures toward the center. ‘This is the area I’m curious about.’

‘That is the torsion plate mantle. It houses not only the torsion plates, but also the lower spinal cervix and coaxial—’

‘Okay,’ She waves a hand dismissively. ‘That’s all very interesting. But there are a couple of specific things I want to know about.’

She glances down and my eyes follow to see that one of my tentacles has wound its way around her ankle and calf. She does not mind. She continues to smile at me, and her scent does not change. Well, it changes a little. She likes my touch. I do not understand it. The whole universe finds Homeworlders to be disgusting and offensive, but this human—

‘I read up on octopuses just a little while ago and they have a thing called a syphon. They use it to swim by pushing water through it and it is where their waste is excreted from.’ She waves at the middle part of the projection. ‘I don’t see a syphon anywhere.’

That is an intrusive question.

I point to the crease labeled funnel between two tentacles on the side of the projected Homeworlder. ‘Here. It balloons while swimming but is discreet when dry.’

‘Ahh,’ she says in understanding. She nudges me with her elbow and says, ‘You’re being a good sport about this. I appreciate it. I’ll tell you what, when we’re done answering my questions about Homeworlder anatomy, I can help you understand human anatomy. If you have any questions.’

I perform a human nod. This is kind of her. I do have a few questions about humans.

She points at the projection again and asks, ‘So this is a penis?’

‘That is an implantation arm.’

‘A what now?’

‘An implantation arm. It is a sex organ.’

‘Okay, but what does it implant?’ she asks, wide-eyed, ‘And why is it called an arm?’

‘Homeworlders have only one sex. Where humans have a breeder type whose eggs are fertilized by an insemination type, Homeworlders have only one sex and it is the implantation type. When breeding a host, this sex organ implants eggs that use ambient DNA to self-fertilize.’ I point to the projection’s two upper arms. ‘These are upper arms.’ I gesture to the bottom half. ‘These are tentacle arms.’ Then I point to the organ in question. ‘That is an implantation arm. This is how Homeworlders designate our limbs.’

‘Oh.’ She squeaks, then clears her throat and speaks in her regular voice, ‘I see.’

A quiet fills the space between us and her scent is slightly tinged with alarm. I do not understand why she would find Homeworlder anatomy alarming. It is nothing to do with her.

‘So, how many kids do Mandy and Seven have now? If every time they have sex—’

‘Homeworlders are capable of pleasure-mating. Not every encounter is procreative.’

‘Okay, then why did he implant her at all?’

So that is the reason for her alarm. She is concerned for her fellow human.

‘It happened once due to miscommunication.’

‘Huh?’

‘There is a word in Earth-Human speak that means many different things and is often used as an expletive. Earth-Human speak was new to the translation matrix, and not all of the translations were being provided. Seven thought she was demanding that he breed her, demanding it very forcefully. She was only voicing her pleasure though. That was the miscommunication. If you would watch the sec—’

‘I’m not watching the security footage of them fucking, Lu. That is just cringe. Quit suggesting it.’

‘As you say,’ I agree. “That is the word though, the one you just used for copulation. It has so many meanings it will not translate properly.”

Another silence stretches between us. At least she is not alarmed anymore. I wonder if she is still willing to help me understand human anatomy. I get the basics. Humans are not so different from many other species. But the medbay AI has not cataloged human anatomy yet so there are some particulars that I wonder about.

‘I guess it’s kind of funny.’ She grins at me. ‘Mandy says something like ‘fuck me’ and Seven hears ‘Put an egg in me right now!’ I mean, I wouldn’t want to be in that situation, but it’s funny.’

Talking with her so intimately about Homeworlder anatomy has fostered a closeness between us and I feel warm all over hearing her say those words, even in jest. She cannot know how shocking, how taboo it is. I know she is not saying these things to me, not really. But my body reacts nevertheless. And who could have guessed that any being in this galaxy would wish to speak of such things with me? As though my form is interesting and worthy of notice.

Her attention is heady, and it is having an undeniable effect and I am trying so hard to conceal it and pretend nonchalance that will allow this conversation to continue.

I have lost control of my coloring though, and it is spiraling in a riot of pinks and purples.

‘So, your turn. What do you want to know about humans? You’ve been so patient with my intrusive questions, the least I can do is return the favor,’ she says.

It occurs to me that I should stop while she thinks well of me. What if I ask something that she takes offense to? Or something that alarms her?

‘I have reconsidered. I do not want to ask you anything.’

‘Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that. Here I am making a fool of myself with my rudeness and my nosiness and you’re not going to ask anything? Just leave me feeling like an awkward jerk?’

I do not understand half of this, but it is clear that she very much wants me to ask something.

‘Why do humans cover themselves so? Even when they are over-warm they remain covered.’ I pluck at the edge of her skirt with the tip of one tentacle.

‘Well, it’s kind of complicated. There are different religious edicts and social norms that require modesty. It is considered rude to show private parts of your body in public places. Also, there are very strict beauty standards. Many people wouldn’t want to show off parts of their body that don’t conform to those ideals. And the wrong sort of men see women who wear skimpy clothes as a come-on.’

Something about this explanation has made her sad.

‘That is complicated,’ I concede. ‘But on this ship you do not need to worry about it. You are not on Earth anymore, not beholden to those edicts, norms, and ideals.’

She laughs as though I have made a joke. ‘Yeah, I’ll just keep my clothes on, though, thanks anyway.’

‘It does create an air of mystery,’ I tell her. ‘Like there is something secret and valuable being kept hidden when it is only a body.’

She nods. ‘I can see that.’

‘And it makes one wonder exactly what humans look like.’

She tilts her head, confused. ‘But you’ve seen naked humans. On the Seereechee ship.’

‘I did not look. I knew that they were unwillingly exposed and would not want to be seen that way. I made sure to focus on their faces. And I was very distracted with keeping you safe. I did not stop to study your form.’

‘Ah, Lu, you’re such a sweetheart.’

The meaning is unclear, but she smells pleased and she looks happy. I feel like I have done something right.

‘So, you’re curious about what humans look like without their clothes?’

‘I am not asking you to—’

‘But you’re curious.’

‘Yes.’

‘Any area specifically that you’re curious about?’ She holds her arms out and poses as if I should point to a particular spot.

I do not point, but I look at her torso, where she is covered from her collarbone down to her upper thighs by two different garments and probably more garments underneath. I will not say it, but I would also like to know what she smells like without clothing to muffle the scent. I bet it is delicious—

‘It’s not really what I signed up for, but—’ She pulls herself up onto the exam table she has been leaning against. ‘Okay, I’ll play along.’

My tentacles have not released from her lower legs. They continue their hold, wound around her following up onto the table. I turn toward her fully, eager to see anything she would like to show me.

‘First though, some ground rules. One—’ she waves a single digit at me, ‘you can look, but don’t touch.’ We glance down to where I’m already touching her. ‘You can touch my legs, but not—not anywhere I’m about to show you.’

I do a human nod and say, ‘Agreed.’

‘Secondly, I know you have an implant that records everything you see. I also know that you can delete those recordings.’ Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ FindNʘᴠᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

‘I will delete them,’ I assure her.

‘I want the security feed shut off in this room until we leave.’

Accessing ship security through my implant, I suspend surveillance of the medbay for the rest of the day.

‘Done.’

She grabs the bottom of her upper garment and pulls it over her head. She is wearing a smaller, tighter covering underneath and she pulls that off as well.

‘These are breasts.’ She cups them in her hands as though presenting them to me. ‘They are for—’

‘No need. I understand that mammals nurture their young with—’

‘But that’s not all they’re for,’ she interjects. ‘They’re also an erogenous zone for most humans.’ Her nimble little fingers pinch and pull on the tips. ‘They can be very sensitive. And touching them can be very stimulating.’

‘I see.’

Her scent has changed dramatically. This excites her a lot, showing me her body, stimulating herself so I can see.

This is a very thorough demonstration.

She removes a tablet from the folds of her lower garment, then unwinds the whole thing from around her hips, placing it beside her in a heap when she is done. There is yet another garment underneath that she hooks with her thumbs and pulls down her legs and fully off her body.

Now she is naked. Fully bared in front of me. I just—I want to touch every part of her, saturate myself in her scent. If I thought my body was reacting to her before, it is nothing compared to now. My implantation arm, something I barely ever take notice of, is heavy and demanding, seeming to have come to life on its own.

I am glad she is up on that table, and my lower body is hidden from her view. Hopefully, I get myself under control before she notices.

‘This is a puh-see,’ she explains with import, gesturing toward the apex of her thighs, directly under her navel. Even without clothes, this area is hidden by a small thatch of fur.

‘That is not translating.’

She huffs.

‘Okay, well.’ She grasps one knee, bending it and angling up and to the side to fully expose a most private, delicate part of her. She touches an outermost fold. ‘This is the labia majora,’ she touches an inner fold, ‘this is the labia minora. Here is the vagina, urethra, and cleh-tor-hiss.’

‘That does not translate.’ My voice sounds odd to my own ears. Strained. I want so badly to touch her, to fully explore everything she is displaying to me. That would violate her rules though. She was very clear that I should not touch this—what she is showing me. This is difficult.

‘The cliht is a very important part of a human female.’ She dips her fingers over her whole puhs-eee, and I can see they are now slick with moisture that she is rubbing onto her—’It is a very sensitive, very pleasurable part of our sexual anatomy.’

I hear a loud rumbling purr, then realize it is me. I am making that sound. I take a deep breath, attempting to calm myself and control my reactions, but I only succeed in taking in more of her delicious scent and I cannot—

‘Lu.’

I look up at her face and she is flushed, her eyes hooded, pupils dilated. These are all signals. Her scent, her voice, her body are all telling me something—

‘Lu, please.’

‘Y-yes? What do you need?’ I can barely form words. I cannot function when she—

‘Touch me—’

I do not hesitate. Reaching for her with hands and claws and tentacles I embrace her before she is done speaking. The rule does not matter when she obviously needs me.

I rub my cheek against hers, trilling and purring. My claws are grabbing and gently squeezing her soft form wherever I can reach, and I use the tip of a tentacle to soothe and stimulate her slick, delicious sex. The sensitive cups bumping and rubbing against all of those parts she has shown me, especially the oh-so-important cleh-tor-hiss.

She is keening, wiggling, and breathlessly demanding more. Securing her arms and legs with my much stronger tentacles, I pin her to the table. I hold her open to me so I can give her more of the stimulation she’s begging for. And no matter how much I give her, she still wants more until she is demanding, ‘Fuck me, please, Lu, I need it—’

Even as I am shocked by her demand, my body complies, and my implantation arm spears into her of its own accord.

She squeals and tries to wiggle, but I’m holding her firmly as I fuck into the clasp of her body. The hot, slick, pulsing clutch of her is more than I can bear.

I cannot form words, just sounds. Purring, growling, and trilling against her ear as I withdraw from her only to spear her again, harder, faster, more—

Desperately striving toward some all-important, unknown goal. I am distracted when she turns her face from mine and licks the tentacle that has been holding her arm down. It’s too much, especially when her slick, pink tongue runs over the edge of a cup delivering an unexpected shock that tips me right over the edge.

I am dying. That is the only way to describe it. This human has killed me with pleasure and my whole body tenses as I die with one explosive pulse after another.

I am only peripherally aware of her yanking her limb free of the tentacle she had licked. Then she is wrapping her delicate arm around my back to hold me tight as she undulates under me once, twice, then tensing as she hisses through her teeth. Her whole body does a little shake and the part of her sheathing me is pulsing in a strangling grip, adding even more pleasure on top of too much. I feel her flimsy claws score my back.

‘Lu.’

It is too much to expect me to talk right now. I cannot form words. I purr for her though.

‘You’re kinda squishing me, big guy.’

Oh.

Moving into a standing position, I pull her with me to the edge of the table so as not to break our connection.

This is better. Spread out before me, I can take in her tangled mane, flushed face, lax limbs. I see rows of circular marks where I had gripped her with my tentacle cups and a lazy, satisfied smile plays across her plush, human lips.

I study her teats. Breasts, as she called them. It seems a primitive, animalistic label for them. But that is appropriate at this moment as she is being mated, driven by base desires, seeking only pleasure and satisfaction.

They are sensitive, that is what she said. I wrap a tentacle around each, encircling, reshaping, and squeezing. It is only when I touch the very tips of her lovely breasts that she shows a response. Moaning and undulating against me is more encouragement than I need. I snake a tentacle around her waist to help me hold her still along with the two still holding her legs open where we are joined. Then I attach two tentacle cups to those delicate peaks, to pull and pinch and, oh, she really likes that. Her scent and her body where she squeezes down on me tell me that much.

I tighten my grip around her waist and pull her away and off of me, not all the way, but only enough to grant me space the yank her back.

The way her teats bounce, and jiggle is such an enticing display that I repeat the maneuver. Again and again, I move her back and forth along my implantation arm. It feels selfish, as though I am using her as a sleeve for my pleasure, but she is loving it. All it takes is a brief stroke of her cliht and she is keening then gasping and pulsing around me again.

‘This is what you like?’ I ask as I continue working her. She does not answer, only gasps. ‘This is why you seek me out? You flirt and show me your body? Because you want this from me?’

‘Yes!’ She gasps and then she is tensing, she is climaxing again. Pulsing and quivering even tighter than before. Another wave of pheromones overwhelms me, and it is all I can stand. I cannot take any more. When I climax this time it is even more soul-shattering than the last, as though my very being has fragmented into shards of pleasure.

As I return to myself, I am shocked by what has happened. I am fundamentally changed, and I cannot go back to the being I was before I encountered this human. I hope she realizes that we are now linked. Our fates, our feelings, our lives, our bodies, everything. We belong together. I am sure she feels the same.

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