The Prelude
With the outbreak of the civil war, Breeding facilities were required to relinquish their faction ties and become self sustaining. Ties would be reformed and broken, only to be reformed once more.
Queen’s turned on one another often, seeking a Hive richer than their own, or simply to assert their authority. With the obliteration of entire Hives, the need for Queens quickly rose to a critical.
Nestled within the safety of a canyon, was one such facility. It had recently underwent a change in loyalty, and now rested solely in the control of the Alliance.
With only a small opening visible to a passerby, they were free from intrusions from the great reptiles and sand cats. Humans, if they were foolish enough to travel so deep into the crimson desert, were quickly taken by the scout darts: bleached white by the harsh sunlight.
“What story shall I tell you all tonight?”
“She who tamed the great sky beast!”
“No, I want to hear about the Queen who defeated an army of Atlanteans!”
“But she told that two nights ago. I want to hear about the sky beast.”
The older female smiles and wraps her robe tighter about her slender frame. “Tonight I’ll tell about the sky beast.”
A dark haired child groans and her lower lip juts out.
“Tomorrow, I will retell the defeat of the Atlanteans. You must learn patience, youngling.”
“Yes Matron.”
“Good. Now go to your beds and I will begin the story.”
She ends the story late in the night cycle and rises from her perch. Walking the two rows of beds, she checks each sleeping child before she returns to her own in the far corner closest to the door.
She removes her over robe and gown, leaving only a light black shift to cover her frame. Untying her hair, already beginning to show gray around her temple, she slides under the covers and curls up.
Matron, as the children called her, for there was no name for her yet but the title she earned from age and experience, was one of the few not yet chosen. She was born with a recessive gene that made her undesirable to the Commanders that had visited thus far. Light sensitive, with blue tinted sclera [1], her appearance often unnerved those who met her gaze
The ever placid one, she was given the youngest groups, for they required the utmost patience.
Opening her bright gold eyes, she absorbs what little light there was. The faint blue glow of her night vision was fractured by her overly long lashes, a trait all of them after the second generation developed to ward off the sands of this planet.
The room was alive with the soft breaths of her charges as they slept. Slowly she sits up and slips out of her bed as carefully as she could. Tonight she could not sleep. Something in the back of her mind had her worried and left her with the sickening feeling of unease. Only since she went into her first heat cycle did she feel so restless.
That unplanned cycle had been triggered by a Commander who had come to view her and her clutch sisters of the same age. He had come close enough to her that his pheromones triggered her when he leaned forward to get a better look at her eyes. Because of that, she spent a week in isolation, to prevent her from potentially harming her charges.
Knowing nothing of mating, she let her imagination run rampant during that week. Using only the faintest of ideas of what a male looks like under their leather, she pretended his chest was against her back as she relieved herself of the stress and burning in the pit of her stomach.
With a sigh, she opens the door to the hallway and follows the corridor to the main entryway. Two Drones stood mute, their faceless heads following her as she passes them.
The cool, dry air was a blessing as it passed over her face, whipping her hair and filling her loreal pits with the scent of sand and dew. The red sand engulfed her long, narrow feet with each step as she walked around the small enclosed perimeter. The two moons were full tonight and provided her with enough light to see two figures on a distant dune.
She squints and turns towards them. One makes a gesture towards the facility and they drop to all fours. She frowns as they lope off in an awkward gait, vanishing behind the dune. “Disgusting beasts.” She mutters to herself in reference to the humans who inhabited this region.
They very well could have traveled the small oceanic divide to a lush forested land, but stupidly remained here. She wrinkles her nose, remembering what her group’s Overseer said: “They remain here because of the silt. They dig it up from dried watering holes and consume it as a delicacy. Its properties are highly addictive, greatly reduce their life spans, and leave them dependent on it until their death.”
Dirt eaters.
She squats in the sand and scoops up a handful of the fine red soil. Rubbing it between her fingers, she sniffs it and dumps it back to the earth. How a race could even consider putting anything like that in their mouth was beyond her.
Leaning back, she falls onto her rump and tucks her legs under her. A Commander was scheduled to arrive mid day tomorrow. There would be three to choose from, including her. The other two were a generation younger than she and bore the strong features of the Queen who produced them: jet black hair and delicate heart shaped faces. They did not develop the traits her and her brood kin inherited due to being delivered as infants from a rival facility to build a tie. They lacked the yellowed coloring to protect them from the sun and the tall, spindly body shape to make desert living easier. They were curved and fattened with spoiling by their Overseer. She knew they would perish quickly if they had ever stepped outside the facility’s protective walls.
She amuses herself with the idea of them being sucked under the sands by a trap snake. How joyous it would be to watch their fragile faces vanish beneath her feet.
The air shifted in scent and she looks to the horizon. The moons were being covered and the wind lashed her hair upwards. A sandstorm was building. She closes her eyes and inhales deeply, enjoying the spicy scent brought by the wind.
Standing, she stretches her arms outwards with an exaggerated groan and turns to head inside. Though she could survive the barrage of sand cutting her flesh like tiny shards of glass, she did not want to explain to her Overseer why her clothing had been ripped from her. Supplies were limited in these times as they were all so often reminded by their Overseers.
She returns to her room and just as quietly as she had left, she climbs back into her bed. Her covers dusted with the rust colored residue left by the sand, she covers her head and falls into a light sleep.
Her group was awoken by their Overseer; a male in his prime, cleanly dressed and groomed. As with the rest of his caste, he was castrated to reduce unwanted urges from arising.
This Overseer was the first in the facility to have overlapping groups. With her being the last of her age group left, both she and him were charged with the care of the younglings he was assigned. The added help from her lessened his burden a great deal.
“You went outside again.” He says with a frown, pulling the covers from her.
“I couldn’t sleep.” She replies thickly, sitting up and yawning.
“I have told you time and time again, that it is dangerous to leave the facility alone.”
“If anything attacked, they would have to get past the force field. I would have plenty of time to get back inside.” She states simply, shaking the remnants of the dust from her hair.
“Get washed and put on your presenting gown. I want you with the others in the choosing room in three quarters of an hour.”
She nods and wraps her black over robe around herself. “Do you know anything about this one?”
“Just speculation from what I gleaned during the transmission.”
“What do you think?”
The Overseer shrugs with a tilt of his head. “You will see soon enough. Now go wash. You’re looking like one of those dirt eating humans.”
Dressed in the form fitting gown for her presentation, she stands alongside her younger half siblings. Their hair was elaborately drawn up, opposed to her simple style. She had pulled her hair away from her face in a small braid, letting the rest fall about her shoulders in lazy waves.
She did not indulge in the black kohl around her eyes. It was a personal preference, and she saw it as silly. Why should one try to give themselves something they do not have? Her Overseer had been relieved at her choice, for he did not want to explain to her why emphasizing her eyes would lessen her chances even further.
Glancing sidelong at them, their stomachs were exposed and the fabric covering their breasts was so sheer, it left nothing to the imagination. She frowns inwardly; their Overseer promoted them like a slaver selling newly converted Worshippers.
She knew how this would go. It would be the same as it has been since she started presenting in her twentieth year, two years after her feeding slit opened. Now approaching on her thirty second, it had yet to change.
The door opens after a moment, and they all lift their heads, straighten their posture and face forward as trained. She listens to the footsteps approach, pausing once, twice, and the third time settle in front of her.
He was close to his prime and not heavily marked like the previous Commander. His skin was pale with a pink hue over his brows and cheeks from his short exposure to the planet’s sun. She stares right back at him, not once raising her eyes. His discomfort in her bright gaze was open enough for her to feel it. She knew he would not choose her. If it was not for her eye contact, it was possibly the fact that she was a head taller than he.
“You never look them in the eye, I’ve told you that countless times.” Her Overseer sighs as he undresses her. “Always look over them as a Queen should.”
“I see no reason to pretend they are invisible or inferior.”
“It is how it is done, child. You will be destined to become a Keeper if you continue this.”
She lifts her arms as he pulls her gown over her head. “Is there any other options for me, other than a Queen or Keeper?”
“You could be sterilized and maintain a facility like myself.” He says with a bitter chuckle.
“Oh come now, its not that horrible.”
“Being stripped of my potency is not something I chose, but it was for the good of our race that I do my duty.” He says as he begins to pick out her clothing.
“Well I keep you company, isn’t that worth it.”
He smiles and holds up the light black shift. Once she lifts her arms, he slides it over her head. “Your company is far better than your adoptive cutch mates’.”
“At least one of them is gone. We just have to put up with the other until the next Commander comes along.”
With a laugh, he wraps her white over robe around her shoulders. “True. Now go tend to your charges before they tear that room apart.”
Another restless night saw her standing outside the facility, watching the rolling dunes. The figures had not made their appearance since the night she first saw them.
She had almost wished to see them again. Their strange humanoid build and funny four legged gait fascinated her.
“If you cannot sleep, why don’t you go to the kitchens and help them prepare the younglings’ morning meals?” Her Overseer says as he approaches.
She looks over her shoulder at him and tilts her head. “I do not think they would enjoy seeing me anywhere near.”
He laughs lightly, remembering the fire she had accidentally caused. “What do you find so fascinating about the desert?”
“It’s calming and blessedly quiet.”
He responds with a rumbling in his throat, and rests his chin on the crown of her head. He feels her lean back against him, her body relaxing under the layers of fabric that divided them. Every fiber of him wanted desperately to respond to her closeness. He could still become aroused and orgasm, but was denied the ability to ejaculate. Controlling his baser instincts, he closes his pale eyes and satisfies himself with the comfort of her earthy scent.
“Have there been reports of humans venturing far into the desert?” She asks.
“The scouts say they go no further than a few kilometers from their settlements and stick to developed trade routes that follow the river. Why do you ask?”
“No reason.” She murmurs, watching the dune where the two figures had stood.
She enjoyed the moonlight as it reflected off the red sands, highlighting the desert in a glorious spectrum of color. She closes her eyes and feels his hands lightly grip her upper arms. They smooth over the thick fabric of her outer robe, the tips of his claws just grazing the sides of her breasts.
Though the gesture was platonic in nature, she responded by pressing the back of her hips against his. His hands drop away from her and she felt his chest leave her back. Turning to face him, she looks at him directly, her pupils engulfing all but the dark orange ring of her irises.
“It is against the policy, child.” He says tightly, his partially dilated pupils giving way to his urge to accept her response.
“How many more rejections will I be forced to endure before I am considered past the age?” She asks, drawing closer to him, overwhelming his senses with her attractant pheromones, which to a human nose would smell similar to warm cinnamon.
His restraint waivers as he leans closer to scent her neck, and it stirs in him something that had been forced to remain dormant for two thirds of his long life. She tilts her head, her hair falling behind her shoulders, offering him the right to mark her if he so chose.
Gripping her chin, he forces her head back upright. “Do not lessen your chance of being chosen even more so. Only a Commander has the right to claim your neck.”
He pushes his left hand through the folds of her robes and cups his palm over her genitals. Though her sex gave no indication, the hiss she gave, the way her back arced to grind her clitoris against his hand gave him all he needed to make his decision. She would hate him for this.
With her so befuddled by her desire to mate she took no noticed of his other hand as it moved to his side. It took three shots from his stunner to knock her unconscious, and due to her metabolism so suited for the unforgiving environment, the effect would not last very long.
Lifting her over his shoulder, he carries her back inside. Passing her assigned room, he carries her deeper into the facility to the isolation room. He lowers her to the bed and locks the door behind himself. Releasing a deep breath, he leaves her to finish out her heat cycle safely.
She awoke to the sounds of the alarm. Confused, she gets out of the bed and looks around, gaining her bearings.
Going to the door, she tries to open it and finds it locked. She sends out a mental wave, calling for help. The web of consciousness was in a state of panic. She felt each life pulsing in confusion and fear. It caused her own panic to rise and she beats her left hand against the door in an attempt to get the attention of anyone near.
“Get them in the hatchery now!” She hears the eldest group’s Overseer shout, muffled by the door.
A massive wet thump against the door causes her to yelp and leap away from it. She presses herself into a corner as another most solid thump sounds. Slipping between two thick veins to hide herself, she watches the door in horror.
[1] http://www.residentandstaff.com/issues/articles/2005-07_11.asp
Queen’s turned on one another often, seeking a Hive richer than their own, or simply to assert their authority. With the obliteration of entire Hives, the need for Queens quickly rose to a critical.
Nestled within the safety of a canyon, was one such facility. It had recently underwent a change in loyalty, and now rested solely in the control of the Alliance.
With only a small opening visible to a passerby, they were free from intrusions from the great reptiles and sand cats. Humans, if they were foolish enough to travel so deep into the crimson desert, were quickly taken by the scout darts: bleached white by the harsh sunlight.
“What story shall I tell you all tonight?”
“She who tamed the great sky beast!”
“No, I want to hear about the Queen who defeated an army of Atlanteans!”
“But she told that two nights ago. I want to hear about the sky beast.”
The older female smiles and wraps her robe tighter about her slender frame. “Tonight I’ll tell about the sky beast.”
A dark haired child groans and her lower lip juts out.
“Tomorrow, I will retell the defeat of the Atlanteans. You must learn patience, youngling.”
“Yes Matron.”
“Good. Now go to your beds and I will begin the story.”
She ends the story late in the night cycle and rises from her perch. Walking the two rows of beds, she checks each sleeping child before she returns to her own in the far corner closest to the door.
She removes her over robe and gown, leaving only a light black shift to cover her frame. Untying her hair, already beginning to show gray around her temple, she slides under the covers and curls up.
Matron, as the children called her, for there was no name for her yet but the title she earned from age and experience, was one of the few not yet chosen. She was born with a recessive gene that made her undesirable to the Commanders that had visited thus far. Light sensitive, with blue tinted sclera [1], her appearance often unnerved those who met her gaze
The ever placid one, she was given the youngest groups, for they required the utmost patience.
Opening her bright gold eyes, she absorbs what little light there was. The faint blue glow of her night vision was fractured by her overly long lashes, a trait all of them after the second generation developed to ward off the sands of this planet.
The room was alive with the soft breaths of her charges as they slept. Slowly she sits up and slips out of her bed as carefully as she could. Tonight she could not sleep. Something in the back of her mind had her worried and left her with the sickening feeling of unease. Only since she went into her first heat cycle did she feel so restless.
That unplanned cycle had been triggered by a Commander who had come to view her and her clutch sisters of the same age. He had come close enough to her that his pheromones triggered her when he leaned forward to get a better look at her eyes. Because of that, she spent a week in isolation, to prevent her from potentially harming her charges.
Knowing nothing of mating, she let her imagination run rampant during that week. Using only the faintest of ideas of what a male looks like under their leather, she pretended his chest was against her back as she relieved herself of the stress and burning in the pit of her stomach.
With a sigh, she opens the door to the hallway and follows the corridor to the main entryway. Two Drones stood mute, their faceless heads following her as she passes them.
The cool, dry air was a blessing as it passed over her face, whipping her hair and filling her loreal pits with the scent of sand and dew. The red sand engulfed her long, narrow feet with each step as she walked around the small enclosed perimeter. The two moons were full tonight and provided her with enough light to see two figures on a distant dune.
She squints and turns towards them. One makes a gesture towards the facility and they drop to all fours. She frowns as they lope off in an awkward gait, vanishing behind the dune. “Disgusting beasts.” She mutters to herself in reference to the humans who inhabited this region.
They very well could have traveled the small oceanic divide to a lush forested land, but stupidly remained here. She wrinkles her nose, remembering what her group’s Overseer said: “They remain here because of the silt. They dig it up from dried watering holes and consume it as a delicacy. Its properties are highly addictive, greatly reduce their life spans, and leave them dependent on it until their death.”
Dirt eaters.
She squats in the sand and scoops up a handful of the fine red soil. Rubbing it between her fingers, she sniffs it and dumps it back to the earth. How a race could even consider putting anything like that in their mouth was beyond her.
Leaning back, she falls onto her rump and tucks her legs under her. A Commander was scheduled to arrive mid day tomorrow. There would be three to choose from, including her. The other two were a generation younger than she and bore the strong features of the Queen who produced them: jet black hair and delicate heart shaped faces. They did not develop the traits her and her brood kin inherited due to being delivered as infants from a rival facility to build a tie. They lacked the yellowed coloring to protect them from the sun and the tall, spindly body shape to make desert living easier. They were curved and fattened with spoiling by their Overseer. She knew they would perish quickly if they had ever stepped outside the facility’s protective walls.
She amuses herself with the idea of them being sucked under the sands by a trap snake. How joyous it would be to watch their fragile faces vanish beneath her feet.
The air shifted in scent and she looks to the horizon. The moons were being covered and the wind lashed her hair upwards. A sandstorm was building. She closes her eyes and inhales deeply, enjoying the spicy scent brought by the wind.
Standing, she stretches her arms outwards with an exaggerated groan and turns to head inside. Though she could survive the barrage of sand cutting her flesh like tiny shards of glass, she did not want to explain to her Overseer why her clothing had been ripped from her. Supplies were limited in these times as they were all so often reminded by their Overseers.
She returns to her room and just as quietly as she had left, she climbs back into her bed. Her covers dusted with the rust colored residue left by the sand, she covers her head and falls into a light sleep.
Her group was awoken by their Overseer; a male in his prime, cleanly dressed and groomed. As with the rest of his caste, he was castrated to reduce unwanted urges from arising.
This Overseer was the first in the facility to have overlapping groups. With her being the last of her age group left, both she and him were charged with the care of the younglings he was assigned. The added help from her lessened his burden a great deal.
“You went outside again.” He says with a frown, pulling the covers from her.
“I couldn’t sleep.” She replies thickly, sitting up and yawning.
“I have told you time and time again, that it is dangerous to leave the facility alone.”
“If anything attacked, they would have to get past the force field. I would have plenty of time to get back inside.” She states simply, shaking the remnants of the dust from her hair.
“Get washed and put on your presenting gown. I want you with the others in the choosing room in three quarters of an hour.”
She nods and wraps her black over robe around herself. “Do you know anything about this one?”
“Just speculation from what I gleaned during the transmission.”
“What do you think?”
The Overseer shrugs with a tilt of his head. “You will see soon enough. Now go wash. You’re looking like one of those dirt eating humans.”
Dressed in the form fitting gown for her presentation, she stands alongside her younger half siblings. Their hair was elaborately drawn up, opposed to her simple style. She had pulled her hair away from her face in a small braid, letting the rest fall about her shoulders in lazy waves.
She did not indulge in the black kohl around her eyes. It was a personal preference, and she saw it as silly. Why should one try to give themselves something they do not have? Her Overseer had been relieved at her choice, for he did not want to explain to her why emphasizing her eyes would lessen her chances even further.
Glancing sidelong at them, their stomachs were exposed and the fabric covering their breasts was so sheer, it left nothing to the imagination. She frowns inwardly; their Overseer promoted them like a slaver selling newly converted Worshippers.
She knew how this would go. It would be the same as it has been since she started presenting in her twentieth year, two years after her feeding slit opened. Now approaching on her thirty second, it had yet to change.
The door opens after a moment, and they all lift their heads, straighten their posture and face forward as trained. She listens to the footsteps approach, pausing once, twice, and the third time settle in front of her.
He was close to his prime and not heavily marked like the previous Commander. His skin was pale with a pink hue over his brows and cheeks from his short exposure to the planet’s sun. She stares right back at him, not once raising her eyes. His discomfort in her bright gaze was open enough for her to feel it. She knew he would not choose her. If it was not for her eye contact, it was possibly the fact that she was a head taller than he.
“You never look them in the eye, I’ve told you that countless times.” Her Overseer sighs as he undresses her. “Always look over them as a Queen should.”
“I see no reason to pretend they are invisible or inferior.”
“It is how it is done, child. You will be destined to become a Keeper if you continue this.”
She lifts her arms as he pulls her gown over her head. “Is there any other options for me, other than a Queen or Keeper?”
“You could be sterilized and maintain a facility like myself.” He says with a bitter chuckle.
“Oh come now, its not that horrible.”
“Being stripped of my potency is not something I chose, but it was for the good of our race that I do my duty.” He says as he begins to pick out her clothing.
“Well I keep you company, isn’t that worth it.”
He smiles and holds up the light black shift. Once she lifts her arms, he slides it over her head. “Your company is far better than your adoptive cutch mates’.”
“At least one of them is gone. We just have to put up with the other until the next Commander comes along.”
With a laugh, he wraps her white over robe around her shoulders. “True. Now go tend to your charges before they tear that room apart.”
Another restless night saw her standing outside the facility, watching the rolling dunes. The figures had not made their appearance since the night she first saw them.
She had almost wished to see them again. Their strange humanoid build and funny four legged gait fascinated her.
“If you cannot sleep, why don’t you go to the kitchens and help them prepare the younglings’ morning meals?” Her Overseer says as he approaches.
She looks over her shoulder at him and tilts her head. “I do not think they would enjoy seeing me anywhere near.”
He laughs lightly, remembering the fire she had accidentally caused. “What do you find so fascinating about the desert?”
“It’s calming and blessedly quiet.”
He responds with a rumbling in his throat, and rests his chin on the crown of her head. He feels her lean back against him, her body relaxing under the layers of fabric that divided them. Every fiber of him wanted desperately to respond to her closeness. He could still become aroused and orgasm, but was denied the ability to ejaculate. Controlling his baser instincts, he closes his pale eyes and satisfies himself with the comfort of her earthy scent.
“Have there been reports of humans venturing far into the desert?” She asks.
“The scouts say they go no further than a few kilometers from their settlements and stick to developed trade routes that follow the river. Why do you ask?”
“No reason.” She murmurs, watching the dune where the two figures had stood.
She enjoyed the moonlight as it reflected off the red sands, highlighting the desert in a glorious spectrum of color. She closes her eyes and feels his hands lightly grip her upper arms. They smooth over the thick fabric of her outer robe, the tips of his claws just grazing the sides of her breasts.
Though the gesture was platonic in nature, she responded by pressing the back of her hips against his. His hands drop away from her and she felt his chest leave her back. Turning to face him, she looks at him directly, her pupils engulfing all but the dark orange ring of her irises.
“It is against the policy, child.” He says tightly, his partially dilated pupils giving way to his urge to accept her response.
“How many more rejections will I be forced to endure before I am considered past the age?” She asks, drawing closer to him, overwhelming his senses with her attractant pheromones, which to a human nose would smell similar to warm cinnamon.
His restraint waivers as he leans closer to scent her neck, and it stirs in him something that had been forced to remain dormant for two thirds of his long life. She tilts her head, her hair falling behind her shoulders, offering him the right to mark her if he so chose.
Gripping her chin, he forces her head back upright. “Do not lessen your chance of being chosen even more so. Only a Commander has the right to claim your neck.”
He pushes his left hand through the folds of her robes and cups his palm over her genitals. Though her sex gave no indication, the hiss she gave, the way her back arced to grind her clitoris against his hand gave him all he needed to make his decision. She would hate him for this.
With her so befuddled by her desire to mate she took no noticed of his other hand as it moved to his side. It took three shots from his stunner to knock her unconscious, and due to her metabolism so suited for the unforgiving environment, the effect would not last very long.
Lifting her over his shoulder, he carries her back inside. Passing her assigned room, he carries her deeper into the facility to the isolation room. He lowers her to the bed and locks the door behind himself. Releasing a deep breath, he leaves her to finish out her heat cycle safely.
She awoke to the sounds of the alarm. Confused, she gets out of the bed and looks around, gaining her bearings.
Going to the door, she tries to open it and finds it locked. She sends out a mental wave, calling for help. The web of consciousness was in a state of panic. She felt each life pulsing in confusion and fear. It caused her own panic to rise and she beats her left hand against the door in an attempt to get the attention of anyone near.
“Get them in the hatchery now!” She hears the eldest group’s Overseer shout, muffled by the door.
A massive wet thump against the door causes her to yelp and leap away from it. She presses herself into a corner as another most solid thump sounds. Slipping between two thick veins to hide herself, she watches the door in horror.
[1] http://www.residentandstaff.com/issues/articles/2005-07_11.asp