Fresh flesh, p.1
Fresh Flesh, page 1
Fresh Flesh
Zora Black
Fresh Flesh
By Zora Black
Copyright © 2022 by Zora Black
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1
Maisie
The drone scorches the sky over what used to be the border between Texas and Nevada. I crouch down behind a scrub bush and hope that it didn’t spot me. Its sleek metal hull reflects the landscape as it cruises about ten feet above the ground.
I flatten myself onto the sand, praying there aren’t any scorpions with tiny pincers around. That’s what my uncle told me, before the Grengorans ate him. The dangerous scorpions are the ones with tiny pincers. The big ones, you see, tear things apart with their pincers, and have comparatively weak venom.
But if they have tiny pinchers, then their venom is very potent indeed. I was in double luck. No scorpions at all, lethal or not.
The drone must have detected something unusual in the area. They don’t normally fly this low. I hoped that I’d successfully bunched up enough that it couldn’t see behind or under the brush. If I had a foot or an arm sticking out, I was as good as dead.
I’d been staying out of sight of the Grengorans for about a week, since I’d escaped the camp back in Salado. I’d hopped a Grengoran unmanned rail line and gotten a lift for most of the journey. I had to make the last hundred miles on foot, which takes a lot longer than you might think it would.
Now, just when I spotted lovely mountains in the distance and figured I was home free, this damn drone comes screeching down from the perfect blue sky to ruin my day.
I guess I’m lucky. I don’t remember much about the way the world used to be before the Grengorans conquered us. They think they’re doing a good thing, you see. They believe that human beings are an infection on this planet, slowly killing it off. By managing our population, they believe they’re helping to heal the Earth.
The sad thing is, they’re probably right. I have heard stories from some of the old timers—mostly people with medical conditions that make them no good for eating. The Grengorans put them in special jumpsuits so they don’t eat them by accident, and then give them menial tasks. Anyway, they told me that the earth used to be a lot more polluted than it is now.
Of course, those aren’t the only people who the Grengorans keep around. So far, I have yet to see a female Grengoran. Only men. And when you have a lot of men, what’s one thing they always seem to need?
If you guessed food, you guessed wrong.
Now, I’ve been tempted to sell myself to the Grengorans before. A gnawing belly will do that to you, as will the constant string of ‘entertainment’ in the arena, where humans are butchered for sport before being sent away to the food processing center.
I didn’t want to become lunch on a Grengoran platter, and I didn’t think I was pretty enough to catch the eye of one of them and become their ‘comfort woman’, or as they like to call it, a sex slave.
So the only recourse seemed to run away. All of my family had long since perished anyway, so there was no point in my staying around in the camp.
Running away presented its own risks. It’s hard for a single human to survive on their own. There’s a reason we used to live in communities. The surrounding wilderness is as much our prison as any bars or guards could make.
I thought I was home free when I saw the mountains. Now the drone seems all too interested in the area I had just walked through. It hovers in place, a slight sonorous hum escaping the silver hued carapace of its outer shell.
Then, just as suddenly as it appeared, it darts back up into the sky and takes off to the East. I remain under the bush for a long moment, just to be sure it’s not coming back. Only when it’s been out of sight for a good five minutes do I finally rise from my hiding spot.
I make for the mountains, more urgently now. The land rises gradually at first, then grows steadily steeper, until I’m using my hands as much as my feet to move upward.
It takes the better part of the morning to make it over the foothills to the mountains proper. I follow a narrow, winding path, hoping I won’t tumble and fall.
Night falls, bringing with it some semblance of safety. At least I’ll be harder for the drones to spot. Or so I think, when suddenly a spotlight appears on the path ahead of me.
Shit! I turn to run the opposite direction, when the rocks give way beneath my heel. I yelp and then tumble down the slope.
I tuck my limbs in and put my chin near my chest, to minimize the chance I’ll get hurt. If it were different circumstances, it might almost be fun to tumble down a grassy hill like this, but I’m terrified the drone saw me or detected the noise I’m making.
At last I stop rolling at the bottom of the hill. I bump up against something thick and sturdy. Thinking it’s a tree trunk, I push off of it and rise to my feet.
That’s when I realize the ‘tree’ doesn’t have bark. It has scales.
I look up and realize I’m standing next to a Grengoran, my hand on his scaled arm. His golden eyes look at me curiously. He doesn’t seem angry. If anything, he seems happy that he’s found me.
Of course he has. He’s found an escaped human.
“Look what we have here, boys,” says a voice behind me. I turn around and find a purple eyed Grengoran leering at me. “Women are just falling from the sky now.”
“And here we thought this hunting grounds was all dried up, eh Mlarx?” says the one with golden eyes that I’d been leaning on.
Another of the Grengorans stands nearby, one with green eyes. I am cut off on all sides. Not that I could have outrun one of the nearly seven foot aliens anyway. I decide to try and make the most of the situation. If I don’t act like escaped prey, maybe they won’t treat me like that’s what I am.
I plaster a smile on my face and wave at them, acting as if I’m not about to piss my panties.
“Hey fellas,” I say cheerfully. “Nice night for a walk, isn’t it?”
2
Lurg
I stare at the plucky little human. It’s not often I see one who smiles. Her face is dotted with delightful spots of color called ‘freckles.’ Unlike most humans, her eyes are bright and not filled with despondency and fear.
“It looks as if the universe has delivered us prey after all,” Mlarx says, brimming with energy. “Should we hunt it?”
“We haven’t hunted anything since Las Vegas,” Joras says, stroking his chin as he contemplates her. “However, this one is rather scrawny. I’m not sure she could offer us much sport.”
“Then maybe we should just execute her on the spot?” Mlarx says, but oddly it doesn’t sound like his heart is in the request.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “We need to question her before we make any decisions about her fate.”
The other two nod, and the woman’s eyes narrow ever so slightly. Her smile widens, and she comes over to me.
“You’re in charge, aren’t you?” she asks, smiling prettily. My heart skips a beat as I stare into her liquid blue eyes. I’ve seen plenty of comely human women, but there’s something special about this one. Maybe it's the spark of life in her eyes, or her boldness in the way she’s behaving toward us.
“I am Lurg,” I reply. “And I am the leader of this squadron, yes.”
“Oh good,” she says with a sigh. “I’m glad to be talking to the right person.”
As she speaks, her fingers tug at the neckline of her sleeveless shirt. The tugging reveals the valley between her breasts. I find my pulse quicken further as I stare at the exposed flesh. Normally I'm not into human women, but I find this one fascinating for some reason.
Her crystal blue eyes stare up at me. I hate getting to know my food. It’s so much easier to make a meal of them when you don’t know them personally, or especially when you don’t know their name.
As if on cue, the human speaks again.
“My name is Maisie.” She bats her blue eyes at me, and stands with her hip outthrust. I take in the sight of her legs, largely exposed in her shorts. “It’s nice to meet you.”
I grimaced, struggling on the inside because of conflicting feelings. Killing intelligent beings is part of our survival strategy. Grengorans require certain nutrients that can only be found in intelligent life forms.
But here’s one standing right in front of me, making me feel things I haven’t felt in quite a while. Enticing me with her body, trying to lure me into doing something that will betray the Empire.
I’d rather turn the other way, but I have to deal with this situation.
“What are you doing out here?” I demand. I intend my harsh tone to put her on the defensive. Instead the exact opposite happens.
“Honestly? I’m starving to death,” she says with a sigh. “You don’t happen to have any food or water to share, do you? I’m willing to do whatever you say in order to get it.”
She strokes her fingers across my chest. I exchange looks with Mlarx and Joras, and they look just as confused as I am.
“Ooh,” Maisie says, kneading my chest with her spry fingers. “You’re so muscular, Lurg. I bet that you're a very good hunter. You must be quite accomplished.”
I know she’s trying to stroke my ego and get what she wants. And yet, I ca n’t help but feel a little bit of professional pride.
“The three of us together have hunted thousands of humans down,” I admit.
“Just like I thought. I’m among the elite of the elite,” she says, nodding to herself. Her hands send sparks and tingles shooting through my skin to the rest of my body. I squeeze the hilt of my rifle a bit tighter to resist letting go and squeezing her instead.
Maisie pushes it further, leaning her body up against my own. Her soft curves feel good against my scales. I can’t believe that she’s having such an effect on me.
“So how about it?” she asked sweetly, batting her eyes at me. “Can’t you give me some food and water? I promise I’ll be very, very appreciative…”
I swallow the sudden lump in my throat. I don’t know how much longer I can resist this temptation.
What is this human woman's game? And what will happen if I can’t figure it out?
I don’t know, but I have to do something, and soon. The longer she touches me, the more I lose my will to carry out my sacred duty.
And that can’t be allowed to happen.
3
Maisie
Lurg’s eyes narrow to dangerous slits, and he grabs my wrist, pulling my hand away from his chest.
“Watch yourself, human,” he growls.
Then he turns to the other two and gestures with his free hand.
“I find it hard to believe a solitary human could be wandering this area all alone. Go and see if there are any more about.”
“I’m all alone,” I say. “I would tell you if there were others, I promise.”
He considers me for a long time, and I’m not sure if he believes me or not.
Mlarx and Joras shoulder their rifles and head off in opposite directions.
“Be careful,” Joras says, frowning as he stares suspiciously at me.
“I think I can handle a human girl,” Lurg growled. “Be thorough in your search. The humans can be crafty little hiders when they want to be.”
“And we are more crafty hunters by far,” Mlarx says with an eager grin on his face. “If there are more humans out here, we will find them. Is that not right, Joras?”
“You have the right of it, Mlarx. We will not fail in our duty to the Empire.”
The two of them moved off in opposite directions, leaving me to the solitary mercy of Lurg.
“Well, alone at last,” I purr, putting my free hand on his chest.
He growls, and grabs hold of my hair near the scalp. I cry out with surprise and pain, but I don't try to resist him. Lurg stares at me suspiciously, and then drags me off to a nearby copse of trees. He tightens his grip on my hair.
“Halt, little one, and kneel.”
I knelt down carefully, wincing as the movement made his hold on my hair that much more snug. I sank to my knees, and he gave my head a rough shake.
“Do not rise until I tell you otherwise.”
He slings his rifle over his shoulder and reaches into the leather pouch at his side. He undoes the hasp and I see carrots, celery, and other hardy vegetables inside. My stomach growls as he takes one of the carrots out.
Lurg offers the carrot to me. I reach out to take it, but a split second before my fingers touch the orange skin of the vegetable, Lurg snaps at me.
“No. I did not say you could use your hands.”
I arch my brows at him, and he continues to glare hard. I put my hands on top of my thighs, palms facing up so he can see I have no weapons hidden, and then lean forward.
I take a bite off the end of the carrot. The crunchy, sweet flesh is the best thing I’ve ever tasted. I haven’t eaten in days.
I devour the carrot, and then I ask for water. He takes the canteen from his belt and unscrews the lid. He holds it out, and this time I know better than to use my hands. Some of the water spills down my shirt, turning it dark and semi transparent.
His eyes dart down to my nipples, now peeking through the garment. He licks his lips, eyes filled with a hunger that vegetables cannot sate.
“More, please,” I say, gesturing to his belt pouch with my chin.
He takes out another carrot, and I open my mouth and take the orange tuber into my mouth. I suckle on the end, my eyes locked with his own gaze. I make a little soft moan and take several inches inside of my mouth before biting off the end.
Lurg growls and grabs me by the hair, yanking me back to my feet.
“What’s your game?” he demands.
“I want to live,” I say, and it’s the truth.
He sneers as if he does not believe me. His face is within inches of my own. I can smell his breath, the slightly cinnamon-esque aroma of Gregorian scales. I can almost taste his desire. It’s as thick on my palate as my own.
Lurg crushes his lips on top of my own with a fierce kiss. I moan into his mouth, going with it and giving as good as I get.
His hands slide all over my body, grasping my buttocks and kneading them. It’s been a long time since I ate, but it’s been even longer since I engaged in the fleshly delights. Far too long.
I press my body up against his own, rubbing myself against the growing lump in his crotch. He still has hold of my hair. Lurg yanks my head back, exposing my throat. He puts his mouth on my neck, but not to bite. His soft lips caress my skin, sending my pulse into overdrive.
His hand dives in the hemline of my shorts, fishing around until they nestle between my pussy lips. I cry out as he strokes me with expert aplomb.
If not for the fact that his men return right about then, I’m pretty sure we would go all the way. But for now, foreplay is going to have to satisfy me.
Or not satisfy me, as the case may be.
4
Maisie
Lurg, Mlarx, and Joras of course don't turn up any more escaped humans. I told them I was the only one, of course, but I can’t blame them for not believing me.
“You gave her food, didn’t you?” Mlarx says with a frown as he looks at me.
“I did. No point in her dropping dead before we get her back to the Valley.”
I can hear the capital V on the word valley. I wonder which valley he meant? I sincerely hope that it doesn’t turn out to be Death Valley.
Mlarx nods as if that explains everything. Joras looks at me and then at his leader.
“Protocol demands she be searched and then put in restraints for the trip.”
Lurg considers this for a moment, and then shrugs.
“He is correct. Take care of it, Joras. Mlarx and I will go and bring the transport around.”
Lurg and Mlarx make their way out of the copse of trees and out of sight, presumably to find their transport. That leases me with Joras. I can already tell he is the most dour and taciturn among them. A stickler for the law, and sure to be a tough nut to crack.
Joras drags me to my feet by my hair and throws me up against a tree. I can’t help myself. I thrust my bottom out toward him in a way I hope he finds enticing.
Joras pauses, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. I look over my shoulder at him and bat my eyes.
“Like this, sir? I want to obey you. I’ll do whatever you want me to.”
He grunts, and goes to search me. Not like a cop or a security agent at the old airports. No, he’s thorough with a capital T. He stares at my arms, even though they are uncovered, and slides his palms down my skin. I gasp at his touch. I love the feel of his warm, smooth scales against my skin.
He gets to my shoulders, and his hands slide around in front. Joras’ hands grasp my breasts and knead them. I cry out as he lifts them up, presumably looking for weapons but I’m pretty sure he’s just having fun at this point.
For that matter, so am I.
I thrust my bottom out and rub it against his crotch. Joras growls.
“What are you doing?” he demands.
“Does this not feel good for you, sir?” I ask sweetly. “Because it feels good to me.”
He grabs my shoulder and spins me around to face him.
