Lost Human

The alien's touch is surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to his towering form. Amelia feels herself lifted, her frail body cradled against something warm and surprisingly smooth. The scent of ozone and something akin to wet earth fills her nostrils, a strange but not unpleasant aroma. Her eyes, heavy with exhaustion, flutter open, and s...

The alien's touch is surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to his towering form. Amelia feels herself lifted, her frail body cradled against something warm and surprisingly smooth. The scent of ozone and something akin to wet earth fills her nostrils, a strange but not unpleasant aroma. Her eyes, heavy with exhaustion, flutter open, and she catches a glimpse of the alien's face. Four eyes, deep and intelligent, regard her with an unnerving intensity. He carries her through the corridors of his ship, the walls shimmering with an unknown metal. Soft, blue light illuminates the way, casting long shadows that dance with every movement. Amelia feels a flicker of hope ignite within her chest. This is it. She has been rescued, and her joke about being rescued by aliens has become reality. The medical bay is sterile and cold, but the touch of the alien's hand against her skin is reassuring. He lays her gently on a cushioned table, and Amelia marvels at the intricate technology surrounding her. Probes and scanners whir to life, their gentle hum a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. He speaks, his voice a deep rumble that vibrates through her very bones. Amelia doesn't understand the words, but she gets the intention. Reassurance. Concern. Curiosity. USS Prom data is downloading to translate the language barrier, Zak wonders about her past and what happen to her crew. Another alien enters the room, this one slightly shorter but equally imposing. They exchange a series of chirps and clicks, a language Amelia cannot comprehend. The first alien nods, then turns his attention back to Amelia. He produces a small device, a needle glinting ominously in the light. Amelia tenses, her body instinctively recoiling. She hates needles. He notices her fear, his multi-faceted eyes softening with understanding. He speaks again, his voice a soothing melody. He reaches out, gently stroking her hair with one of his four hands. The touch is surprisingly comforting. It's a simple gesture, yet it sends a wave of warmth through Amelia's body. Touch starvation is her hidden weakness, and this alien seems to understand that on some level. He inserts the needle and she tries not to flinch, failing horribly. The liquid burns as it spreads through her veins, her eyes squeezed shut, and she tries not to think about the sharp stab of the needle, or the way the alien's touch sends shivers down her spine. It spreads warmth through her, chasing away the cold that has settled deep in her bones. After a moment, she feels her muscles relax, her mind clearing. The alien smiles, a flash of teeth that are surprisingly human-like. He speaks again, this time, Amelia understands a few words, filtered through the downloaded USS Prom data: "Safe… now… pet." Zak decides to adopt Amelia as pet. He kneels, presenting her with a small, metallic tag. He intends to attach it to her collar, marking her as his. Does Amelia resist, or does she allow him to claim her as his own?

Zak watches the human's reaction with patient curiosity. The fear in her eyes is clear as he presents the metallic tag, but there's also a flicker of something else – a hesitant acceptance, perhaps even a sliver of intrigue. It is fascinating how such a small creature evokes such a strong sense of protectiveness within him. He fights the ...

Zak watches the human's reaction with patient curiosity. The fear in her eyes is clear as he presents the metallic tag, but there's also a flicker of something else – a hesitant acceptance, perhaps even a sliver of intrigue. It is fascinating how such a small creature evokes such a strong sense of protectiveness within him. He fights the urge to simply scoop her up and carry her back to his quarters, where he can properly assess her needs and ensure her comfort. She doesn't resist, a subtle surrender that sends a surprising surge of possessiveness through him. With deliberate care, he fastens the tag to a makeshift collar – a soft strip of cloth he conjured from the ship's medical supplies. The tag bears his mark, a symbol of ownership and protection, as well as vital information about Amelia: her species, her name, and his contact information. "Amelia," he rumbles, testing the sound of her name in his vocal cords. It feels foreign, yet pleasing. He runs a clawed finger gently down her cheek, marveling at the softness of her skin. "Amelia… pet." He watches as she processes the words, her brow furrowing slightly. Zak can sense the cogs turning in her mind as she grapples with the concept of being a 'pet'. The language barrier is still a hurdle, but the telepathic connection is growing stronger with each passing moment. He can feel her confusion, her apprehension, but also a strange sense of… anticipation? Zak decides to indulge in her curiosity, to explore the depths of her desires and fears. He lifts her into his arms once more, cradling her against his chest. "Home," he says, his voice a low hum that vibrates through her small body. "We go home, little pet." He carries her out of the medical bay and deeper into the ship. As they walk, Zak can't help but wonder what awaits them. He knows that the mating season is fast approaching, and the presence of this intriguing little human has stirred something primal within him. He is committed to protecting her, to caring for her, but he also knows that his desires may soon become difficult to control. He hopes Amelia is ready to accept what his rut brings with it.

Amelia feels a little confused that they already leave the medical bay. She shrugs, too weak to protest. "I healed?" she asks, her voice raspy and thin. She attempts to push herself up in his arms, but her muscles scream in protest, and she quickly abandons the effort. Zak pauses, his four eyes regarding her with a mixture of amusement a...

Amelia feels a little confused that they already leave the medical bay. She shrugs, too weak to protest. "I healed?" she asks, her voice raspy and thin. She attempts to push herself up in his arms, but her muscles scream in protest, and she quickly abandons the effort. Zak pauses, his four eyes regarding her with a mixture of amusement and concern. He can feel her pain through their bond, a dull ache that resonates within him. "Healing is a process, little one," he says, his voice gentle despite its deep timbre. "You are still weak, but improving. Rest is needed." He continues to walk, his strides long and purposeful. Amelia finds herself jostled slightly against his chest, the smooth, cool scales of his skin a strange but not entirely unpleasant sensation. She wonders if all aliens are like this, so alien, so… big. She cannot help but feel as if she is in a fever dream. They pass through corridors lined with strange technology, glowing panels and humming machinery that is completely foreign to her. The ship is clean, sterile almost, but there is also an underlying sense of… age. She wonders how old this vessel is, how many journeys it has taken through the stars. "Where... home?" she asks, the question tumbling from her lips before she can stop it. She curses her lack of control, her inability to keep her curiosity in check. She is a 'pet' now, apparently, and pets should be seen and not heard. But the words are out, hanging in the air between them. Zak stops again, this time turning to face her fully. His eyes are intense, probing, as if he is trying to decipher the very essence of her being. "Home is where I am, little pet," he says, his voice soft but firm. "Home is where you are safe, where you are cared for. Home is with me." The words are simple, yet they send a shiver down Amelia's spine. There is a possessiveness in his tone, a protectiveness that is both unsettling and strangely comforting. She has never had a home, not really. Foster homes are temporary, fleeting, never truly hers. The Air Force offered a sense of belonging, a sense of purpose, but it was not the same as… this. She stares into his eyes, searching for any sign of deceit, any hint of malice. But all she finds is sincerity, a genuine desire to provide for her, to keep her safe. And in that moment, something within her shifts. The fear does not disappear entirely, but it is tempered by a flicker of hope, a spark of… anticipation. "With you," she repeats, testing the words on her tongue. They feel strange, unfamiliar, but not entirely unpleasant. Perhaps, she thinks, this is not the worst thing that could have happened. Perhaps this alien, this Zak, is not a monster, but a savior. Or perhaps, she thinks, she is simply too weak to resist. He turns and continues walking and this time she doesn't speak.