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beskarberry · 3 years

Text

Kudzu

Corrupted!Ezra x f!reader

The pistol was on the far side of the room, but you knew it had at least one charge in it. One good shot. You didn’t want to hurt Ezra, but the monster on the other side of the door, pushing on it so hard it slammed against the doorframe with each attack, wasn’t giving you any other options.

You were going to have to kill him.

Summary: a familiar stranger shows up at the doorstep of your infirmary with unfamiliar wounds. You're no doctor, but masquerading as one makes you the only one in the position to save his life. Can you win out against his extraterrestrial illness, or will his new abilities stake a claim in you as well?

Rating: MAXIMUM EXPLICIT HOLY FUCK

Word count: 11.4k

Content warnings: NON-CON/DUB-CON, human/alien hybridization, forced breeding/impregnation/birth, rough/feral sex, sex pollen, body worship, cervix penetration, cum inflation, knotting, a wisp of a/b/o. Nonsexual: wound care and dressing, hurt/comfort, a little whumpish, shootouts, blood, dumb jokes, cheesy ending

A/N: Did you read those content warnings? Good, now read them again. If you enjoyed Garden of Ishtar and Blue Orchid, you'll be excited to know I've outdone myself once again! If those made you even the slightest bit uncomfy then turn away now, this is not for you! I bring you this in time for kinktober, but the only list I'm following is my own personal list of kinkiness, and have dumped some of my personal faves into this fic. It's DARK, its SCARY, it's a little stupid at points, I'm not a complete monster, there's comedic relief abound, but this is raw, unfettered filth, and if you read all those tags and still get mad about this fic, don't come crying to me.

DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT.

Your day had started off so… normal.

It was a lovely morning on the Green, dappled sunlight filtered through the thick jungle foliage and cast illusive gold coins over the canvas of your tent, softly illuminating the cramped little quarters you’d called home for the last eight months. Even the pollen seemed thinner than usual according to your slap-and-patched meteorological equipment, the clunky machine ticking happily away in the corner; and as you sipped at your watery tin of artificial instant espresso, you thought today might not be so bad.

After a hearty breakfast of liquid caffeine and a bar of fruit jerky, you went through your usual routine of checking over your supplies. Well, not your supplies truth be told. Almost everything in your ramshackle clinic belonged to the honest-to-Kevva doctor who had once called it home, but after what looked like a failed experiment with aurelac harvesting… well, somebody had to fill his shoes after the good doctor bit the literal dust.

And that somebody was you.

You, however, were not a doctor, or a nurse, or anything else that could be quantified as a medical professional, but you’d just happened to be in the right place at the right time, or wrong place depending on who you asked, and you took up the mantle quite nicely. It was curiosity more than anything that made you brave enough to rifle through the doctor’s notes and journals pertaining to human anatomy and their relation to aurelac reproduction theories, but you’d only made it through the more familiar anthropological textbooks when you received your first patient.

Another prospector had come to your tent seeking out the field medic that was listed on the maps, bleeding profusely after nearly slicing their finger off extracting the prized gem of solidified goop. There was too much blood being wasted for you to try convincing them that you weren’t who they were looking for, but after a surprisingly well-placed handful of stitches and neatly wrapped bandages, you were doubting your inabilities as well. Happy with their digit returned to almost full functionality, they’d offered you some dehydrated protein paste and an old filter hookup as trade, and thus your new life as field medic had begun.

Part clinic, part outpost, your little neck of the jungle grew slowly over time. One tent became two, then three, then some scrap metal was converted into an infirmary of sorts complete with a pair of rusty, threadbare cots and a pump-action shower. You ‘treated’ all kinds of ailments using the late doctor’s leftover annotations, from dust lung to acid burns, and on more than one occasion had to bust out the surgifoam wound filler to staunch the bleeding from thrower holes. Though you weren’t qualified by any means, your patients tended not to ask too many questions when you were the only thing standing between them and Kevva's merciful embrace.

You’d watched the morning sun climb into the sky through the flimsy clear plastic ‘window’ taped into the side of the tent and wondered what the spacefarer’s deity would lead into your arms today, only to have your question answered all too quickly. Squinting through the warped plastic you caught the slight reflective shimmer of sunlight sliding over the rounded bubble of a prospector’s helmet. Their drab green flight suit had them almost blending into the surrounding foliage, only their shambling gait giving away that they weren’t growing up from the ground themselves.

Trust was something that had to be earned at your place of business, and even a weak-looking stranger was no exception to the rule. You grabbed your thrower pistol and cranked the battery frantically, getting just enough of a charge for a single shot before dashing to the radio. With your eyes locked on the nearing stranger you flipped rapidly through the stations until the haunting static crackled to life with the sound of someone singing.

“Dream, s-sailing among the stars. Dream, put into port at Mars. Reddened… -huff- world in a darkened sky. Load supplies and away you fly, Phobos… -phew… passing by, You can… can touch it if you want t-to try. On this day... S-Sail… sail away.”

...Ezra?

It had to be, nobody on the Pug or the Green or even the fucking Fringe sang songs like that anymore, the soliloquies of forgotten Earth poets long deceased brought back from the grave by an avid bookworm.

You remembered Ezra, the ‘bonafide’ prospector, as he called himself, had wandered into your healing arms more than once, bringing with him a handful of minor cuts or burns and a delightfully insightful conversation. Polite and well-educated, he’d been thoroughly interested in your research findings and what books you had read lately, and wasn’t the least bit dissuaded in your abilities even after he’d correctly deduced that you weren’t the medical professional listed on the maps.

The confession seemed to make him even more open to conversation, which with a chatterbox like Ezra that almost came as a shock, but you couldn’t help enjoying his company while you patched him up. More southern than pecan pie and just as sweet, Ez would recount marvelous tales of his adventures on the Green, sometimes enunciating so wildly with his calloused hands that you had to restrain him to keep him from pulling his stitches, and more than once you suspected that he liked it when you did. The prospector was leagues more pleasant than most of the rough diggers and brainless Saters that you dealt with, even if his tall tales were clearly exaggerated, and the way his big brown eyes glittered under the rakish little patch of blond hair sticking out from his temple made you suspicious that fabricating stories solely for your amusement was his method of flirting with you.

And if he was, you wouldn’t have been entirely against it.

There was always one story he circled back to, something about an aurelac queen lost somewhere out in the wilds. It was a fable you’d heard while you were still on the Pug back before your ship went tits up. The whispered legends the other prospectors told in the station’s cafeteria still haunted your ears, seedy tales of a sprawling matriarch that oozed with literal rivers of gold hiding somewhere under the loamy soil of the forlorn little moon. Ezra had been hunting it for months - he’d told you while you were busy sewing a hole in his shoulder closed - undeterred by the words of warning passed over insta-meals about the dangerous treasure hunt. He was determined, you’d give him that, or maybe he was just so charming and headstrong that you couldn’t imagine anything stopping him from succeeding in his quest.

But maybe only having one arm would slow him down.

“Ezra? What fucking happened to you?” You asked hurriedly as you ushered him in through the tent’s zipper, sealing it back up quickly after he’d stumbled through the entryway, dropping your thrower in the process. Even through his thick plasticast helmet you could hear his ragged, muffled breathing as it fogged up the transparent dome, a clear sign of a clogged filter made more evident by the bright red warning light searing up the filter’s side.

The prospector nearly fell trying to sit down on the floor, the grimace on his clammy, pale face replaced with a pained smile when he saw you. “H-hello, turtledove.” he rasped as he clawed at the locks of his helmet. You stepped in to help him pull the grimey, olive drab head cover off and tossed it aside, trying not to crinkle your nose at the stench of him. His sparkling amber eyes glittered from under sweaty brows at you once the bubble had been pulled clear, dulled slightly by the pain he seemed to be suffering. “I seem to have f-found myself in a m-mess'a hot water.”

“I’ll say, the last time I saw you in here you were symmetrical.” You hissed, glaring at the pinned sleeve of his flight suit where his right arm had been.

He followed your gaze with a broken laugh, “Surprisingly, that would appear to be the least of my troubles.” A coughing fit tore at his ribs, the grittiness of it hinting at a lungful of pollen. You grabbed the nearest inhalant canister and knelt up against him, holding the breathing cup to his face. He groped at your hand with his one good one, sucking down the moist antihistamine with each ragged breath. “Much obliged, but the black that’s tryin’ to suffocate me is no matter in comparison to the laceration I have sustained to the sunny-side of-”

“Oh my fucking GOD Ez just shut up and show me where!”

He groaned, agitated but submissive and much in need of your services. “Y’see that’s what I was tryn’a tell you, turtledove, if you’d just let me finish-”

You did not let him finish. Furious, you started pawing at his flight suit, aggressively manhandling him to find where he must be bleeding out from. Ezra protested candidly, especially when you found the bloodstained hole in his canvas right above the junction of his leg and groin, dangerously close to his femoral artery. You dug your fingers in and ripped the tattered canvas and the soft cotton of his boxers appart, doing your damndest to ignore Ezra’s wails of embarrassment.

More of a stab wound than a laceration, the bloody hole oozed hotly with crimson mixed with the most sickening shade of green. Poison. “How did this happen?” You asked harshly, grabbing for your medkit and already pouring antiseptic on the wound before Ezra could launch into a thousand-year yarn.

He hissed at the pain, “Kevva, girl!! Give a man a warning before you start assaultin’ him so close to his family heirlooms!” Ezra’s hand dug viciously into your shoulder, trying to ground himself while you tortured him to good health. “I found the queen, birdie, she’s real, and she is treacherous.” His gasps turned to rhythmic hyperventilation when you stabbed him with an antivenom agent, teeth bared in a grimace, thumb trying to break your clavicle.

“Keep talking, Ez.” It was surprising that you even had to make that demand of such a chatterbox, but you had to keep him distracted while you pumped the wound full of poly-mag spray foam to suck up the leaking venom.

“Yes, doctor.” He mused sarcastically over the foam spray’s whooshing. “That mistress isn’t like the smaller growths, oh no, she’s got a mighty armory at her disposal. All spikes and stingers and what have you, never seen anything like ‘er in all my days. One of ‘em got me, as you can clearly see, and I am fortunate that your fine establishment was so proximal to the scene of my near-castration.”

“Me too.” You rambled, though you weren’t entirely listening. Swabbing at the bloodstained skin to clean it, you watched the spongy material turn from creamy white to fungal green, then nearly to black as it soaked up the residual toxins. You’d seen some wild shit out on the Green, but nothing quite like this. Once Ezra was in better condition you might be able to find something in the doctor’s ledgers about it, but getting the weary prospector back from the brink of death was the more pressing matter. “Here, take these.” You demanded, thrusting a plastic amber vial of pills into his hand.

His throaty laugh scraped over his lips like sandpaper. “If it would not be too much of an inconvenience I must humbly request that you remove the lid for me if I am to-”

You snatched the bottle back with an apology, forgetting that he couldn’t get the child-proof lock undone on his own. Ezra tossed the pills back the instant you gave the vial back to him sans cap, ignoring the ‘do not chew’ warning on the bottle and crunching right through the tablets. His head hit the wall with a groan from the burning suddenly in his throat, but he soldiered through it and swallowed grossly. Disgusted but distracted by your work, you used a pair of tongs to pry the soaked sponge out of the wound. It stuck sickeningly to the flesh, leaving a spiderweb trail of filaments that you had to clean up before dosing him with another round.

“Am I gonna live, doc?” He hummed, his tongue caught back behind his teeth where he was trying to pick a chunk of painkillers free. You shrugged and nodded while you watched the second dollop of marshmallow goop expand and harden without changing color. Ezra sighed, “At least if I shed this mortal coil, the last wonder to grace my sight shall be your exquisite visage.”

He would choose to flirt now, of all times. “You’re not gonna die, Ez, not if I have anything to say about it.” The surgifoam looked stable and clean, so you pulled a gauze pad and a set of waterproof bandages out and began dressing the wound for healing, but you were startled by a heavily gloved hand landing on your forearm.

A lopsided smile wormed its way over his features, making his dark eyes sparkle up at you. “Sweet, benevolent angel of the Emerald expanse, I do declare you are the finest creature these weary eyes of mine have lain upon in a coons age.” The oaken tones of his voice dropped lower, the pad of his thumb dragging slowly across your arm. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate…”

You looked at him, then glanced briefly at yourself. Still in your dumpy sweats and fruit-of-the-loom tank top, you couldn't be compared to any sort of day except for maybe ones involving tornadoes. Your mouth still tasted like bean water since you hadn’t gotten around to brushing your teeth, and the horrific realization dawned on you. Fever. The sweat of Ezra’s brow nearly scalded your palm when you slapped it against his forehead. “Shitballs, Ez you’re burning up. Suit’s gotta come off, bud, gotta get you cooled down.”

His boyish grin spread across his face from ear to ear, flashing you with his pearly white teeth. “Undressing me already, darling? Shouldn’t I at least treat you to a night of exquisite romances? Let us free ourselves of these oppressive flight suits and get dressed to the nines!” He conducted an imaginary orchestra with his solitary hand, tapping his foot to a beat only he could hear. “I want to take you dancing, turtledove, would you grant me the pleasure, nay, the honor of letting me sweep you off your feet?”

“Sure Ez, that sounds grand.” Worry cut through your voice like a knife, he was rapidly getting delirious and if you didn’t cool him down soon his brain would melt right out his ears. “We’re, uh, gonna be late for the ball, come on, on your feet, darling.” He nearly purred at you while you undid the clasps of his outerwear and tore the zipper down, peeling him open like the world’s most disgusting banana.

He fucking reeked, and it took every ounce of gumpsha you had to keep from retching at the smell. Under the heavy canvas his threadbare t-shirt and ratty boxers were soaking wet with sweat and blood, making him sticky to the touch. You worked the sole sleeve off his good arm, revealing a poorly-placed wrapping on his stump that he’d obviously done himself, the dirty bandage in dire need of replacement. Planting your feet, you bolstered yourself up under his good arm and hauled him off the floor, but lifting the lean-muscled digger was less of a challenge than it was to keep your breakfast down. STinKy!

Ezra fell haphazardly against you, burying his face in the crook of your neck while he worked to pull his legs free of the coveralls. You tried to ignore the soft, sloppy kisses he was pressing to your skin while you walked him back towards the shower, but the goosebumps firing over every inch of your flesh gave you right away. “Divinity pales in comparison to the softness of your skin, my turtledove.” He mused, dragging the bristles of his facial hair along the column of your throat. “Does Kevva know you walk the mortal planes, my celestial songbird, or did she send you to me herself?”

He was nipping at your earlobe by the time you got him to the tub, and you couldn’t toss him in nearly fast enough. He flopped unceremoniously into the large plastic wash basin, slipping around like butter in a hot pan when you turned on the water. The sound he made when the cold shower blasted him made your blood curdle, torn somewhere between a scream and a whine that was made a thousand times worse by his panicked, one-armed flailing.

“Hold still, fucker!” You bellowed, jumping in the tub and nearly tackling him to keep him in the water and getting yourself soaked as well. Honestly he had every right to flail, the water was nearly frozen it was so fucking cold, but it was a necessary evil if you were to save his life.

Ezra hissed and cursed and spat like an unfixed tomcat until the punishing temperature of the shower seeped into him and brought his fever down to a more reasonable level. His eyes softened slightly as he came back to himself. “I.. what… where?? T-this isn’t the ballroom, this is a bathtub!” He searched the infirmary for the expansive dancefloor that he had been imagining, only to find that the only other dancer in the room was you.

You, however, were just as soaked and disheveled as he was, taking the brunt of the shower blast against your spine. “Excellent deduction, Sherlock. This is indeed a bathtub. Feeling any better?” You asked, patting him on the cheek in such a way that he jumped from your touch.

He reached up to press your hand into his face, scratching your palm with his scraggly beard. “In your stupendous care I know I will want for naught, but to behold your lovely features with thine own eyes is a cure for more than the physical afflictions I have suffered.” He turned and kissed at your palm before you pulled it away, making him whine from the loss. “Please, my starlight, let me kiss you...” He made little kissy faces at you, his eyes closed while he pictured the softness of your lips against his own.

Ok, so his brain is still a little fried. “Ezra…” you scolded, trying to formulate a plan while he smooched the air. “You… you need to get cleaned up so you can take me to the ball, can you do that for me?” That seemed to get his attention, even if his focus was fleeting. “I’ll help you, but you gotta get washed up first, ok? Arm up.” Ezra did as he was told, letting you peel the soaking wet undershirt off of him, careful not to catch on his stump cover in the process.

Cold water ran like a river down the expanse of his bare chest, causing the thin trail of dark brown hair that dusted down the front of him to waver in the flow. His bare flesh was riddled with scars, some long and jagged, some round and smooth where he’d apparently been shot numerous times. One or two of them you recognized from having patched up yourself. If you both weren’t in such a sad state at the moment you might have let yourself indulge in the sight of him a little longer, but alas, duty calls.

Carefully, you stepped out of the way of the water, letting it hit him fully while you hunted for something to wash him with. Your own loofah would have to do, and though he was still protesting the icy torment you had subjected him to, he melted quickly when you dragged the sudsy sponge over his skin. “Oh… oh turtledove, you slay me with your affections. You must allow me to return the favor…” He started trying to lift his arm, but the painkillers and exhaustion were taking their toll, and instead only managed to get his hand as far as the edge of the tub. His thumb dragged little circles over the plastic while he waxed poetic at the feel of you scrubbing him down until his musings turned to mumbles right before he passed out cold.

Jabbing your fingers up under his jaw, you hunted for a pulse, letting out a relieved sigh at the feel of his heart beating steadily away. With him finally still, you gave him what must have been the first real shower he’d had in months, and you were almost sad that he couldn’t enjoy it fully. The wretched stink of him washed away with the dirt and grime that spiraled down the drain, and you felt the first pangs of a headache flickering behind your eyes from having your sinuses abused for so long.

Cleaned to your liking, you shut the water off and stood, groaning at the kink in your back that would only worsen when you dragged Ezra’s motionless body out of the tub. You dried him off as best you could before hauling him out of the oversized plastic bucket and onto one of the rickety metal cots nearby. Try as you might to towel him off, water poured from your own soaked clothes, making him that much more wet. Deciding that he wasn’t going to wake up any time soon, you peeled off the nearly see-thru tank top that had probably been showing off your nipples to him the entire time you had him in the tub. No wonder he was flirting so much.

Ezra mumbled in his sleep a bit while you dried him fully, but you quickly encountered the same wet clothing problem with his boxers. You had to get them off, you reasoned to yourself, they’re wet and they’re obstructing your ability to see the dressing you had placed, even if there was still a sizable hole in the leg. Taking a big-girl breath, you reached for the waistband of his shorts, but the idea of modesty was not why you hesitated there.

Peeking out from the worn cotton edge was something dark, and not dark like the hair that was growing along his happy trail. It was under his skin, a greenish tint that spiderwebbed up his belly, and you felt your own guts churning at the sight.

What the fuck is that.

You had to be brave. Digging your fingers into the elastic band you pulled the soaking wet cotton all the way down, exposing more of Ezra than you had ever thought you would see. The freezing cold water didn’t leave you with much to look at, but you still felt heat splash across your face at getting to see him so naked for the first time. Your devious embarrassment turned to gut wrenching fear though when you tore your eyes away from his chilled cock towards the ugly, infectious-looking veins sprawling outwards from the wound you had dressed.

Son of a bitch.

The wound cover was waterproof, but it was already demanding to be changed, the queen’s venom soaking through the surgifoam once again. You replaced the dressing quickly, the cold sweat of relief breaking out over your skin when the dark lines started to recede and fade. Ezra fidgeted in his sleep, his brows creasing while he mumbled something regarding a serenade. Gently you brushed your fingers over his forehead to check his temperature and soothe his fretting, watching how his brows relaxed from your touch and a weak smile graced his damp face.

Sitting on the edge of the cot, you smiled sweetly back at him even though he couldn’t see you, drawing slow patterns over his face that made him hum. You wandered over the curve of his brow and the swells of his cheeks, then past the edge of his jaw to the long column of his neck. That led you to his clavicle, and that led you to his missing right arm.

What had happened, you wondered, concern written clearly in your eyes for no one to see. What would have been detrimental enough that he would have lost it? The edges of the wrapping were wet and stained and obviously in need of replacement. Ezra groaned in protest when you started peeling them away, the soaked gauze smelling just as bad as he did before you’d gotten him washed up. Gross.

You’d unwrapped the bandage almost all the way to the remains of his bicep when the sudden, familiarly darkened lines began to show again. Frantically now, you almost ripped the wrapping off, unspooling it quickly and revealing more and more of the shadowy streaks. Black threads gave way to a toxic dark green color the closer you got to the site of the amputation, the flesh becoming hard and chitinous to the touch like that of an insect.

The final bandage fell away, and you nearly screamed.

“Ezra, what the fuck!?”

Your distressed whisper fell on deaf ears. Where you were expecting a closed scar, or even an open and infected wound, something inhuman was growing. A tiny protuberance jutted out of the middle of the stump, the same dark green color as the surrounding skin, but the end of it bore a trio of little spikes. When it didn’t explode or rot off immediately, you leaned in to try to get a better look at it, but your sudden closeness made the alien appendage twitch, and with a sickening drop in your belly you realized what you were looking at was a hand.

Barely a few inches long, the little limb flexed and grasped at nothing, making the veins stretching over Ezra’s shoulder pulsate disgustingly. Covering your mouth you stumbled backwards and away from the unknown entity, nearly tripping over the wet clothing on the floor. It didn’t make any move towards you, but you couldn’t be in the same room with it any longer, deciding that somewhere in the doctor’s research there must be something that could help you.

Panic-stricken, you told the sleeping prospector not to go anywhere before dashing from the room to where you kept the handwritten journals of a dead man. There was so much information that you'd had to sift through while learning the cliff notes of healing that you'd never actually taken the time to explore the doctor's other interests.

Aurelac.

The doctor had left this part of the compound in a hurry, notes had been thrown around in a disorganized flurry when you’d discovered it, and none of them had probably made it even close to the correct order when you tried to file them back away. Once or twice, when the cool nights had you shivering, you’d debated burning the nonsense notations for warmth, but bookburning wasn’t in your blood.

Most of them had been written in a scrawling hand, the penmanship deteriorating with each page you dug up. It was almost all illegible nonsense, nothing like the anatomical references you had studied, the sentences strung together in the words of a madman.

‘Aurelac gestation…queen’s venom... similar chromosomes. Under spe-ific conditions… formation of… amniotic sack… re-ductive org-... ov-lation…”

You pieced together what you could, stitching a quiltwork of information together in the hopes that you could uncover some way to save Ezra, but nothing seemed to make any sense, and what you could even read became less and less helpful as the hours dragged on.

Night fell without your notice, the sun slipping behind the thick vegetation, stealing away the soft ambient light filtering through the tent canvas until you were straining your eyes in the halo of light from your little desk lamp. Words like corruption and transformation swam before your tired eyes, as meaningless as they had been from the moment you sat down.

-Squeak... squeak... squeak... squeak...-

The rhythmic metallic noise startled you from your research, the high pitched grate of it making your teeth itch, but even in your exhausted state you could tell it was coming from the infirmary.

-Squeak... squeak... squeak... squeak...-

Against the ice freezing in your veins you rose, the glacial burn of adrenaline begging you to run the other way, but that was your patient in there, probably suffering a seizure or thrashing in his sleep, and yet the way your hackles rose along the back of your neck told you something much worse was lurking in the dark. When you reached the scrap metal doorframe of the infirmary something else caught your attention, a smell that you didn’t recognize though it was much more pleasant than dirty prospector or the caustic rot of infection.

It smelled like blueberries.

"Ez? Y'ok?" You called, taking a handful of confused, cautious sniffs. It didn’t smell like the artificially flavored jerky you were accustomed to, it was organic, the richness of it hitting you in the face like you’d just walked into a farmers market and making your mouth water. Licking your lips to keep your spit back, you hunted for one of the kerosene lamps that should be somewhere on the wall, but a pained groan froze you in place.

"Turtledove~"

Half rasped, half moaned, Ezra called to you over the incessant squeaking that was coming from his bunk, and that paired with the panting you could hear sent a sickening heat to pool unbidden in your guts. You found the lamp finally, your fingers shaking as you turned the knob and cast the room into a warm yellow light that barely reached the farthest corners, but it was enough to reveal the source of all your mysteries.

Ezra had managed to roll over onto his left side, curled up in a little ball, his right arm fisted in the sheet- his right arm? Ezra didn’t have a right arm.

And yet now he did, but it wasn’t the one he had been born with.

Where the protuberance had been just hours ago, a long, well-muscled limb had grown and taken root, the three little spikes now full length fingers tearing holes in the flimsy cotton up near his face. It had an elbow, a wrist, and fingers, but that’s where the humanity of it ended. His skin - if you could call it that - shimmered the dark green color of algae growing around the lip of a sewer drain in plates of exoskeletal segments, catching the light of the kerosene lamp as June beetles do when the sun hits them just right.

Yet somehow that wasn’t the worst of it.

His left hand, trapped under his body, burrowed calloused fingers underneath the sheet covering his groin, trying desperately to relieve himself of the achy swelling tenting his blanket. With each rock of his hips against his still-human palm, the old rusty bedframe under him squeaked and squealed enough to make your teeth rattle in their sockets, but the needling in your jaw wasn’t strong enough to distract you from the night time activities of your patient.

Ezra the lobster boy was jerkin’ it.

“Please, turtledove, I-I need… I need your help…” he drawled, his fingers twisting around himself under the straining fabric. “H-hurts…”

His cry of help startled you from where you had been slack-jaw gawking at his insectoid appendage, but your feet would not obey your healer heart to move. “Ez…” you soothed, putting your hands up in a sign of peace. “Where does it hurt?”

The prospector groaned, convulsing in on himself, his new claws puncturing the threadbare mattress under him, catching on the springs. “E-e-every… everywhere! Please, make it stop!”

The words that next left your mouth competed with the temperature of your cheeks, your face unsure if it should be icy with fear or flush with embarrassment. “Can you… can you please take… for fucks sake, can you take your hand off your dick?!”

“HURTS!” Ezra nearly screamed, his face contorting in pain, drowning out all his pleasure. “C-can’t… can’t stop, hurts!”

His short, clipped sentences were so out of character for him, and maybe that was the final straw that got your ass in gear towards him, towards your patient. Hanging the lantern up made Ezra even more shiny and glistening, his body coated in sweat, his lips wet with spit, or maybe tears. That big, bug-like claw looked even more intimidating up close, his muscles flexing under softer chitin segments, its three dagger-like fingers safely embedded in your mattress.

Your heart thundered in your chest, matching the beat of the drum between your legs. You couldn’t help it. Here was this gorgeous yet extremely unsettling man fisting his cock on your bed; and you were inches away from getting to see it in all its glory. “Ez, is this where it hurts the most?” you asked, pointing to the pumping of his fist. He gave a strangled ‘uh-huh’, his eyes flicking open just long enough to see you pointing before squeezing shut again - a flash of night-dark amber. “I’m gonna have to take a look, take your hand away, please?”

There was a stillness in the air for a moment when he sucked in his breath, stealing all the oxygen from the room at what you were asking. He almost couldn’t let himself go, but when he finally did, and his human hand dragged out from under the sheet, up the soft plush of his abdomen and into the light of the lantern, something else dragged with it.

Something very… wet.

Ezra’s fingers, and now his belly, shimmered with an inhuman amount of precum, the sudden appearance of it flooding the room with even more of that blueberry aroma. He left a snail-trail up his abdomen as he took his hand away, the thick, viscous fluid soaking into the hair on his belly. “Hurry…” he moaned, his face contorted with pain, the tip of his cock pushing desperately against the sheet, soaking right through it with the same ambrosial liquid and leaving a sizable stain.

Hurry.

You reached for the sheets’ edge, flinching when the buck of his hips made the bulge of his cock arc towards you. You took three big breaths, and yanked the sheet back, throwing it over Ezra’s naked butt and revealing every inch of him to the world.

And oh, how many inches is that?

Your brain made windows’ shutdown noises at the new spectacle before you. The soft, chilly dick of the man you had tossed in your bed was no more, and in its place a long, almost fluorescent green spire grew. It curved in an undulating wave of emerald flesh, pulsating with veins clearly visible under the translucent skin. Every inch of it shimmered with wet, from the girthy, hair-nested base of his balls to the now-pointed, elongated tip. His new cock throbbed under your observation, dragging his hips forwards, begging to be touched.

“Look how it aches for you, turtledove…” Ezra purred from under the fortress of his chitinous arm, the sound of a feral grin haloing his words. “How badly it needs you, wants you… How badly… I… want you…”

Between the filth of his words, the sight of his otherworldly nudity, and the now sickeningly-sweet scent of honeyed fruit cloying the air so thickly you could taste it, you were tempted to take him up on that offer. “Thought you said it hurt, Ez?”

“So much! Can’t…” his left arm flailed a bit from where it was trapped under his body, the muscles in his right claw straining to free it from the mattress. “Can’t get any… any release… Please?”

“I’m not gonna jerk you-” you started to say, glaring at him from under your brow, but when something squelched between your fingers you gasped with surprise, finding that your hand had disobeyed you and wrapped around him of its own bidding. “-ok, I guess I am.”

Ezra’s moan was so strong it could have brought the tent down if it was any louder, his needy cries of pleasure fueling the fire growing in the pit of your stomach. He rocked his cock into your hand, the slimy thing slipping over your palm with ease. It was big, bigger than anything you’d ever seen on a man, maybe even bigger than you’d seen on some animals. Your fingers didn’t even curl all the way around at his base, but twisted easily around his weeping tip. Your hand was quickly as covered in warm precum as his had been, an unnatural amount that dribbled down your wrist and pooled on the bed.

You had to resist the urge to lick yourself clean.

“S-so good, so soft…” he groaned, rolling his hips in time with your strokes. “A-are you… this soft… all over?” His left hand squirmed out from under his body until his human fingers reached you, gliding gently over your bare breasts. The sensation startled you, forgetting that you were topless, but hey it’s your fuckin house. His long arm followed you back, groping now, squeezing the pillowly flesh of your chest so it spilled between his fingers. Some phantom voice in the back of your mind told you he probably should get a smack for that, but having a strong man’s hands lovingly caressing your breast made you shiver in delight, and so you let him continue to stroke you while you stroked him.

“Is the pain f-fading, Ez?” you asked, your voice more of a hoarse whisper than you intended.

“Yeah, yeah turtle d-dove, but… would feel better… inside...?”

Some semblance of common sense slapped your frontal lobe. “No, Ez, I’m not putting that in anything. You’re just gonna have to-”

“Need… need to…” Ezra rasped, the muscles in his alien shoulder flexing and straining. “N… need! NEED!”

-rrRRIIPP!-

The freshly-molted claws tore through the bedding, making it rain bits of cotton and fabric, turning the little infirmary into your own personal snow globe. Viciously-sharp talons shoved against your sternum, launching you back onto your ass and almost knocking your skull against the other cot. Scrambling for purchase, you scuttled away from where Ezra was pulling himself upright, his eyes locked to you with deadly focus, his face twisted into a snarl. You lept to your feet before he could clamber off the bed, practically on all fours as you flew through the scrap metal door, slamming it behind you.

Within seconds Ezra was thundering against it, pounding his fists and raging on the other side of the variegated metal. “Come back, turtledove! I need you! WE NEED YOU!!” He clawed at the door, the rusty iron screeching under his new claws and vibrating up where your spine was pressed against the door.

Your heart like a rabbit in your chest, you frantically looked around the tiny space for something, anything, that would help. Somewhere there should be tranquilizers, right? Fuck, those are back in the infirmary. Maybe something to smack him over the head with? You glanced around for a blunt weapon when your eyes fell on a different type of defense: the thrower pistol.

It was on the far side of the room, but you knew it had at least one charge in it. One good shot. You didn’t want to hurt Ezra, but the monster on the other side of the door, pushing on it so hard it slammed against the doorframe with each attack, wasn’t giving you any other options.

You were going to have to kill him.

You braced your stance, waiting for him to hit the door one more time before launching yourself across the room, ducking to grab the pistol right as the door was thrown open so hard it broke off its ramshackle hinges. You flipped around, aimed the gun, and fired.

-*BANG!*-

Ezra howled in pain, clutching the new hole in his right shoulder with his still-human hand, his canines flashing in rage. Instead of blood, some kind of thick, black ichor dribbled from the wound and down his exoskeleton arm, running in riverettes off his clawed fingers. Undeterred, he lurched towards you, your brain kicking into overdrive to escape. You dodged the naked man’s grasp, instinct telling you to run outside, but the Green’s unforgiving pollen would kill you slowly, at least with Ezra you had a fighting chance.

So that’s what you did, you fought.

You swung a punch at him as he fumbled for you, catching him deftly in the side of his skull, but just like with the bullet hole he seemed unphased in his new anatomy. You swung again, and this time he caught you, his long, segmented fingers digging harshly into your wrist. You struck out with your other arm, only to meet the same fate, and when you resorted to kicking, he kicked back, taking your feet out from under you and putting you on your back.

“That wasn’t very nice of you, turtledove,” he snarled, straddling you under him while keeping your arms captive, his neon green dick oozing onto your bare belly. The precum was warmer now, hot almost, so close to your own sex. He smiled venomously down at you, the deep brown of his irises ringed with a threatening shade of gold. “It’s ok though, a little boo-boo ain’t gonna make me like you any less. I must express to you my desires, beautiful.” He said with a grind of his hips, his upper body leaning over yours, pinning you to the ground like an insect in a display case. “You have vexed and haunted my fantasies since the day I laid eyes on you, and now, to have you for myself… Well, maybe not just for me. For… us.”

“Get off me! Ezra, this isn’t you! Let me go! Let me help you!” You squirmed in his iron grip, trying to get a knee up into his back. He hooked his legs over yours, completely disabling you.

“‘Fraid I can’t do that, birdie. I have my orders.” He sighed at your furrowed brow. “You can’t hear her? She sent me to you. She chose you.”

You made a mental note to add auditory hallucinations to his chart. “Fuck are you talking about? Who? Who do you hear, Ez? Who is telling you to do this?!” you were pleading now, hoping buying into his charade would earn you your freedom, but he only tightened his grip, grinding his hips down onto yours.

“The Queen.”

Ezra surged forward, dropping his mouth to yours in a bruising kiss, taking you completely off guard. His tongue took advantage of the surprise, probing deeply into your mouth, hunting for your own to tangle with. The taste of summer fruit flooded your mouth with his tongue, so strong you thought it might choke you until it actually did. His drool was as thick and viscous as the stuff dribbling from his cock, sloughing from his mouth into yours until you were forced to drink it down.

It warmed your mouth, your tongue, your cheeks, and the back of your throat, oozing down your gullet in a wave of hot pleasure that made your eyes roll back. Ezra’s teeth nipped at your lower lip, licking deeply with every chaste kiss until you were kissing him back. Whatever toxin was in his saliva was quickly having an effect, leaving you lust-drunk on his kisses alone. He ground his hips down on you, dragging his extraterrestrial appendage over the skin of your tummy, and you raised your own hips up to meet him.

He hummed delightedly into the cavern of your mouth, lapping and laving his way around like a giddy teenager’s first kiss, pulling away with an obscene smack of his lips. Spit-glistened and swollen, his own mouth was turned upwards in a boyish grin. “We knew you were perfect, sweet songbird, we knew this was where we were meant to come. We knew you would be the one.”

Haze filtered in around your sight, making everything in the room fuzzy in a way that it almost didn’t want to be seen; everything but the man poised above you. Ezra almost seemed to be glowing, drawing your gaze to him and him alone. As his hips gyrated on the wrong side of yours, the heat in your gut surged down to your groin, making your cunt throb with need and turning your panties sticky with wet.

“What.. what’ve you done… done t’me?”

“Why, we’re just gettin’ the festivities around for your coronation, darlin’,” Ezra purred, a string of words that didn’t make a lick of sense, the most glaring of all was his constant use of we. You felt his hands unspool from your wrists finally, but your arms would not obey you and laid limply on the floor, drunk on whatever Ezra had poured into you. He sat up fully and dismounted you, dragging his mismatched hands over your heated skin. “So beautiful, wanna touch all of you, don’t be shy now.”

He paused at your breasts, your nipples pebbled almost painfully hard, so sensitive that when he wrapped his strange fingers around them you cried out and arched your back, pressing your tits into his warm hands. The drawl of his praises made your skin prickle, soft good girls and oh, aren’t you gorgeous prayed to the altar of your body. He bent to kiss your soft skin, the bristles of his upper lip dragging euphorically across your flesh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.

He kissed all the way down your torso to the ratty waistband of your sweatpants, leaving a halo of gentle, benign kisses around your belly button. His caring caresses belied his alien arm and drooling appendage, making him, for a moment, nothing more than a man.

Ezra hooked his eight fingers in the waistband and pulled, tugging your sweats and panties off in one go, tossing them somewhere unknown. You should be angry, embarrassed, furious even with him undressing you against your will, but your blood pounded like a volcano in your ears, threatening to pyroclast right out your cunt if your burning need wasn’t addressed. Ezra sat back on his haunches and whistled, scrubbing his chin with his three-clawed hand. “Ain’t you a pretty sight, all slick and wet, that just for us?” He purred, sliding his fleshier finger through the slick coating your thighs and bringing it up to his lips to taste. “Mmmph, perfect. Could smell you for miles, birdie, but to taste you, now that is truly divine.”

Warm hands pushed your knees apart, revealing your cunt to him fully. The slap of cold air on your sensitive nethers pulsed in your brain like you’d been doused in cold water, and suddenly the moment became all too real.

He was going to fuck you.

Some semblance of control spurred your legs and limbs, and you flailed, flipping onto your hands and knees to try and flee. You screamed when Ezra dug into your hips, dragging you back towards him. His claws scrambled up the right side of your body until he had your neck in his long fingers, the razor sharp tips pressing threateningly into your jugular and forcing your head back. “Now now,” he seethed in your ear, nipping and licking at the side of your face. “Don’t go makin’ this any harder than it has to be, birdie. We’re gonna make you feel good, don’t you worry now.” He bit you, sinking his teeth so hard into your neck you knew he broke the skin, warm blood and venomous spit trickling down over his nightmare-green fingers.

The familiar heat spiked into your bloodstream again, and you were quickly pliant in his grip. “There, isn’t that better? You’re strong, ain’tcha? Knew you would be. Knew it had to be you.” Behind you, Ezra kicked your legs further apart with his knees, lining his dripping cock up with your slick heat and plunging forward, bottoming right out and making you instantly see stars. “FuuuUUCK! What a tight little cunt! So.. fucking... tight… and… wet!”

He punctuated each word with an experimental thrust, forcing you to open up more around him without giving you a chance to let your body accommodate, but your insides were soon slick with his precum and yours, letting him glide in almost effortlessly save for the inhuman size. The claws around your throat tightened slightly, rooting you in place while Ezra fucked you to his liking. The tip of him pushed and pulsed aggressively against your cervix, trying to rearrange your guts with each stroke.

“That feel good, songbird?” he mused in your ear, biting the lobe. Your mind said no but your body screamed yes, moaning and clenching around him, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “Bet it does. Gonna feel even better when I pump ya full. Make ya mine allll MINE!”

He left one more feral bite on your shoulder and pulled himself back, pushing a palm between your shoulder blades and forcing you down from your elbows onto your face, ass high in the air just for him. He readjusted his knees, his grabby fingers taking generous fistfuls of your ass, and slammed himself home.

The wet slap of skin on inhuman skin echoed faintly in the little ramshackle tent, mixing with his growls and your whines, the wet drip of juices pouring out of your cunt splattering on the bare floor and leaving a slippery mess between your legs. Ezra was an animal behind you, fucking you like it was his last day alive, sweat tracking down his face and chest, sticking to your ass and thighs with every brain-melting thrust. A five-fingered hand slipped down your hip towards your mound, fishing sloppily for your clit to rub vicious little circles against. You keened in pain and pleasure, bearing you walls down around his length, making it squelch obscenely.

“That’s it… thaaaat’s it, little bird, come for us. Be a good girl and come so we can fill that belly proper.” That velvet baritone slipped like sin up your spine, curling in your veins until it snapped, making you gush around him. He groaned and picked up the pace, fucking you like a man possessed, as if his only reason for living was to pound your pussy into oblivion. “Yes… YES! Gonna… gonna.. f-fuuUUUCK!”

Ezra plowed forward, making room for himself in your already-too-full cunt by breaking through the gates of your womb, the pointy tip of him slipping past your cervix and pouring his cum into you. Your body seized up under the foreign intrusion, cold sweat breaking on your brow, a scream dying in your throat while you scrambled for purchase on the hard, barren floor.

It was like gallons of molten syrup were being spilled into you, hot and slick and unbelievably filling. Each little desperate rock of Ezra’s hips against your ass made more and more of him fill into you, and it didn’t stop. He was growling, snarling, feral with each pump, the base of his cock swelling wide inside of you into a sort of knot, giving nowhere for his cum to go but in.

And in… and in… and in it went.

You felt the weight of him growing inside you, pushing against your abdominal wall until your skin tingled from the inside. More and more of his juices flooded your womb, distending it, filling it, stretching it until you could feel it hanging heavily underneath you. The feeling of fullness was like nothing you’d ever experienced, swaying gently from your belly with each of Ezra’s last thrusts.

When he finally stilled, he was heaving breathlessly, his chest almost spasming with his burning lungs. He threw his head back and gasped for air, letting his synapses swim in the serotonin he had so valiantly earned. Those dangerous hands of his crept gently to your hips, drawing tender, loving circles around your bruised hipbones and red asscheeks, marked with his passing conquest. From there, he let himself wander down your sides to your tummy, cupping the new roundess with almost fatherly devotion.

“So good to us…” he whispered with a slide of his palms, splaying his fingers wide over your taut skin. “She will live on now, after she dies. Through you, little bird. You should be so proud.”

You couldn’t make sense of his words, you couldn’t make sense of anything really, your mind becoming cloudy with exhaustion; probably a side effect of the venom. Your own ragged breath fogged up the floorboards, leaving a steaming ghost of moisture on each pant. Before you succumbed entirely to the darkness growing behind your eyes, you felt Ezra lean forward, trailing kisses of admiration up your spine, your shoulders, your neck, your throat, brushing his scratchy lips against your ears, the crack of his mouth splitting into a grin to whisper,

“All hail the Queen.”

You woke up bleary eyed and naked on the floor of your shack, the soft light of the nearby orange planet warming the golden tones of the sunlight streaming in through the little plastic window. Your head hurt, a migraine threatening to break between your ears, trying to convince you to go back to sleep. Rubbing at your eyes, you tried to remember why you were on the floor. Strange visions danced in your mind, of strangers from the stars and space aliens with insect arms, paired with thoughts of dangerous men and being ravaged on the floor of your own home.

Had… had that all been a dream?

Perhaps staying on the Green so long wasn’t as good of an idea as you’d thought if living on fruit jerky and instant espresso was going to make you go crazy. You began to sit up, desperate for a shirt and a cup of coffee, when the arm flung over your waist coiled tighter.

You didn’t need coffee anymore.

Adrenaline seared through your veins when you looked at the arm keeping you hostage. Dark emerald green, covered in chitinous plates and ending in wicked sharp claws; the alien of your nightmare alive and well, and apparently spooning you. Ezra’s inhuman palm flattened and dragged lovingly over the next of your waking nightmares: your sudden pregnancy.

Fuck you were big, swollen and full, of what you didn’t know. Couldn’t be a human baby… that should have taken months, not hours. And yet you looked all the world like a mother to be, with your baby daddy coiled around your backside.

Ezra shifted when your breaths quickened, adding another fun fact to your growing list. His cock, still hard and inflated at the base, was still lodged in your cunt, keeping any of his cum from leaking; though your legs and thighs, as well as the ground under you was soaked through.

“Ez… Ez wake up. Ez wake up right now.” you demanded, trying to shuffle your hips to dislodge him, but that knot was firmly wedged inside you.

His arm tightened, and he nuzzled the back of your head with sleepy kisses. “Mmm.. don’ wanna… sleepy.”

“EZRA!” You were done being nice, shouting the prospector awake with a frightening start. “Get your fucking dick out of me right now or I’m gonna cut it off!”

“Do what, huh?! HUH?!” Ezra’s deep southern voice climbed more octaves than you thought capable, keening with surprise. “The hell you mean, OH! Shit fucking hell!?” Words escaped him while he tried to escape you, struggling to pull his cock free against the knot. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry! How!? How did?!” He was almost screaming, his terror sticking in his throat in sudden silence when the knot finally slipped free, a salacious pop preluding the gush of juices that poured out of you with his release.

The loss of him made you whine and ache, suddenly empty but still furious. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember, bug boy! You fucked me! And apparently knocked me up while you were at it!”

Ezra put distance between you, his claws tacka-tackaing on the floor finally drawing his attention to his new arm. He screamed and flailed, trying to shake it off, then trying to rip it off, but it was as well attached as the arm that had once been there; the one made of meat and bone instead of plates of chitin. “WHAT IN KEVVA’S CHAOS IS THAT!?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.” you rolled up onto your butt, your heavy womb sitting in the bowl of your crossed legs. “You came here after a run-in with the ‘aurelac queen’, and now you’re a lobster and I’m preggers. Explain yourself, fuckwit!”

“I-I-I….” he stammered, looking between you and his claw, paleing even further at his softening cock, the brilliant green of it darkening as it finally came to rest. “I… I don’t… I don’t know.”

“THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T- oh. Oh no…” your verbal punishment was cut short by a sudden gurgling in your guts, your full womb twitching with an incoming cramp storm. All the blood drained from your face, a cold sweat breaking out over every inch of your body when your maternal instinct warned you that it was time. “Ezra… whatever it is… it’s coming.”

He looked at you, frozen, confused and scared, and for a moment the half man, half… whatever the fuck that was, seemed to be carved out of marble instead of flesh. Then he was all motion, hurrying to you, hands moving you gently, asking you in a frightened whisper what you needed him to do, as if you fucking knew.

All you knew now was fear, and suddenly pain as the contractions started, tearing a wailing cry from your throat. Ezra eased you onto your back, pushing something soft under your head as a pillow. “Is there something I can give you? Medicine? Something to make it easier? Oh turtledove I’m so sorr-”

“Shut up Ezra! This is YOUR FAULT!” you barked with rage, words like daggers. Ez swallowed dryly at the verbal assault, but he wasn’t leaving your side, no matter how mad at him you were. There might have been something in your med kit to ease the pain, but the contractions were coming too fast, and all you could do was squeeze his hand so hard you almost broke it.

“That’s it, that’s it darlin’, push, I-I see somethin…” Ezra cried from between your legs, ready to catch whatever was coming out. “You got it, you’re doin’ it! I see… what… what is that!?”

You couldn’t hear his fresh terror over your screams and the blood pounding in your ears as whatever was inside you squeezed out your channel and into Ezra’s clawed palm. Head back, vision obscured by your own swollen middle, you couldn’t see what you had just birthed, all you could see was Ezra’s horrified face. There was no crying, no newborn squall, and between the silence and the staring you felt your heart break. “Ez.. Ez please, I need to see… is it a boy or a girl?”

He shook his head, sucking his lips between his teeth. “Um... it’s neither.” He sat back on his haunches and lifted your creation up with shaky hands. Instead of anything resembling a human, what he held was a whitish, pearlescent sac, trailing an umbilical down to your cunt. It was something you were undoubtedly familiar with, but had no business coming out of your snatch. “It’s-”

“Aurelac?”

“That’s… what it looks like. I’ve been prospecting for years an’ I’ve never seen anything like this.” Ezra nearly whispered, turning the gemsack around in his hands, testing the weight of it. “Feels like a big one, too. I can start cut-” You cut him off with another cry of pain, convulsing in on yourself with fresh contractions. “Shit, you got more in there?!” he balked when you nodded, moving the first aurelac out of the way and readying himself for the second. “I’ll do anything ya need me to do, just tell me!”

“Touch… touch…” you babbled, tears streaming down your face. “Need, need -ah!!- need your hands! Help, please!” You arched your back, fighting the contractions to make demands of Ezra with your body.

He was on you in a flash, rubbing gentle circles around your clit with his left hand, exchanging pain for pleasure with each careful dip into your stretched cunt. “There ya go, that’s a good girl, make you come those out, huh?” He laughed nervously, about as confused as you were but happy to be of service. Dark green fingers trailed carefully over the taut skin of your middle, feeling for the next push. “Sorry I’m not usin’ my primary weapon, but that, uh, new fangled hardware looks a tad sharp.”

You were dazed, dull to his words as the fire built inside you until it burst, squeezing another aurelac bag from your belly. Ez moved it next to the other one and continued, picking up the pace but growing sloppy using the wrong hand. “Ez…” you begged in a sweat-soaked haze, “Mouth?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Ezra scootched back a bit and dove for your cunt, wrapping his hungry lips around the engorged bud of your sex, sucking a cry of pleasure from you. He laved his tongue over you, sucking up your juices like a man starved, earning a priceless gem for every orgasm he drew from you. The wet of his mouth would have been disgusting on a better day, smacking and sucking between hums of approval and joy, burying his face in your cunt like he was planning on being buried there himself.

Cum flooded out of you, gushing over his face every time you came and dropping a fresh new aurelac sack every time. The pile grew and grew, your tummy flattening to its original size and slowly revealing the top of Ezra’s head, then his brow, and finally his eyes - closed in pleasure.

You’d never seen a more enraptured face.

When the last of your clutch was birthed, and the placenta slithered out with it, you passed out from the exhaustion of labor, deaf to Ezra’s desperate cries, begging you to stay awake as you slipped into darkness.

It was around mid-afternoon when you came to, your hungry guts waking you from your peaceful nappy. You rose and stretched, scratching yourself through the clean shirt you were wearing like a bear waking up from hibernation. You stretched your clean legs and took a deep breath, the smell of quote-unquote ‘coffee’ lighting up in your brain excitedly.

“Hey, you’re awake! How are you feeling?” The soft southern drawl of your now-familiar prospector didn’t startle you like it should, instead it curled warmth and soothing desire through your heart. Ezra approached cautiously, a mug of bean water in hand. “I made you some coffee, if that’s alright.”

The memory of your strange dreams sat on the tip of your tongue, ready to exchange a story for the cup of coffee, but when you saw his hand you knew they had been real.

All of it had been real.

Ezra saw you look at his hand and began to withdraw it in shame, only for you to catch it first. He didn’t resist as you turned it over, examining the exoskeletal joints and the softer spaces between the bone-hard plates. His palm was soft for the most part, and warm, so you placed your face in it, holding him to you. He stiffened with a conflicted breath, then slowly drew the jagged thumb across your cheek.

There was some kind of connection now between you, something that shouldn’t have been but was. A link that could never be broken, a song serenading your heart with a word usually attributed to animals, not men.

Mate.

“Where’s the aurelac?” you asked softly, remembering what mating with Ezra now entailed. He cupped your face in a tiny hug and retreated to find your clutch.

“You got eight of them in total! I went ahead and cleaned them up, got ‘em harvested.” He beamed like a proud parent, presenting the bowl full of glittering gemstones. They were bigger than any you’d ever seen, the size of Ezra’s balled fist each. “I don’t understand it a lick, but uh, I think whatever’s happened to us has made us the richest pair of miscreants on this entire moon.” His smile faded when you fixed him a glare at the word ‘us’, swallowing dryly. “You, my apologies, turtle dove, these are yours. The hand I played in their creation was downright deplorable. You should’a put a bullet in my skull the moment you saw me amblin’ through the woods. I didn’t come here on my own thoughts, somethin’ else was driving me.” He gestured to the wound on his thigh, now covered by a stolen pair of your sweats. “It was the queen, her stinger- it put somethin’ in my head. I could hear ‘er dyin’, tellin’ me to-”

“Shh, Ez, it’s alright. It’s not your fault. You weren’t in control.” You reached up to caress his face, but he caught you and shook his head.

“Do not forgive my actions, little bird. I should be strung up for what I did to you. Please, take that aurelac and buy yourself passage off this miserable moon, get as far away from me as you can! Because this,” he held up his claw, turning the shiny carapace over in the light. “Ain’t comin’ off, and I don’t know if the… urge… will come over me again! You don’t deserve to be violated in such a way.”

He wasn’t wrong, you didn’t deserve any of that. You sighed real big, glancing between the heaping bowl of gold and the rugged, handsome face of the man who had accidentally gifted it to you. He was - when he wasn’t under the control of an alien - a sweet and caring man. Hardworking and strong, and by the look of shame in his eyes, loyal to the end.

You grazed your fingertips over the gemstones, feeling their smooth surfaces, watching the way the dappled sunlight sparkled in the drops of solid gold at their centers. They were perfect in every way, and would fetch enough points to buy anything your heart desired. Ezra probably knew this, but a flicker of deviousness drew you to say “I don’t think this is going to be enough to buy any sort of passage off the Green, might need a couple more…”

He nodded, “I-I can go prospecting, let me get my suit back on, I’ll dig up as many as-”

You caught him before he could get too far. “That’s… not what I meant.”

He stilled in your grip, brow furrowed, plush lips parted with confusion before he figured it out. He was ready to get as far away from you as you wanted him to be, to accept any punishment you saw fit. He wasn’t expecting to be invited back into your arms.

Slowly, he leaned forward, dipping his face cautiously towards you as if you would bite it off, but was instead rewarded with the slight upward tilt of your lips, and the flick of your gaze roving over his own. Your lips met softly, gently, almost a whisper of a kiss before each of you pushed closer. This was not the violent, bruising kiss he had first given you, this was one of unplanned devotion. It was like Kevva xerself had blessed this strange union, drawing you together for reasons only the divine could interpret.

Ezra smelled nice up close, the horrible prospector stink long gone, and only the faintest blueberry strudel remnants clung to the earthy scent of his body. He was warm and soft in the places you needed him to be, even his horror-hand seemed delicate with you. You could get used to it.

You both pulled away for air, stealing each other's breath away in the space between you. “So, what’d’ya say, Ez? You wanna treat me to that dance you were so adamant about? See where that takes us?"

He laughed softly, those honeywell eyes of his sparkling with giddy excitement, only the slightest twinge of unsuredness around their golden edges. “For you, my queen? Anything.”

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