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She is the last human. And she’s mine.
The year is 3232. I prepare to descend upon humanity and take what my kind have taken for thousands of years: any female I please.
But the Earth I find is not the Earth I remember.
The humans are gone.
One female left from billions.
I will possess her.
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Chapter One – Alien Skin
The year is 3232. High above Earth in an orbit so remote no satellite can detect our ship, we prepare to descend upon an unwary humanity and take what our kind have taken for thousands of years: the virtue of any human female we please.
“What name are you going to use this time?” Tarkan asks me the question while shaking out fresh skin. He’s already ripped two suits because he refuses to fully retract his serrated dorsal ridge, even though he knows humans don’t have them and it’s going to stick up at the back.
“I was thinking something basic, and forgettable. Jim, or maybe Michael, or Creed. Something like that.”
“I was thinking Mr Nasty.”
“That’s a stupid name.”
“Better than Reaper.”
“Just choose something sensible, Tarkan.”
“Take this seriously!”
I can snap orders all I like, but Tarkan just smirks, his canine fangs sharp and very much inhuman. He’s already part way into his suit. From the knees down, he looks like a human man. Calves. Ankles. Feet. From the knees up, he looks like a massive Scythkin warrior male, all hard lines, armored plates, fangs, mandibular knives and three hundred pounds of highly developed muscle. That human suit has its work cut out for it.
“What about Eric, but I’ll tell them that it is spelled with two t’s.”
I shake my head as I don my own suit slowly and carefully, making sure not to rip the synthetic reinforced skin. “Don’t try to make dealing with you any more confusing than it already is.”
“Women like unique men.”
“I think we’re going to be more than unique enough,” I chuckle. Unique doesn’t begin to describe what we are compared to the innocent earthlings who won’t even know that we will be walking among them.
We have been preparing for this trip for quite some time. After several decades of hard battle at the front lines of the ever expanding Scythkin Empire we have earned our discharge. No longer will we spend our days scything through resistant species who dare to try to stop our species from overrunning their worlds. Instead we will spend the spoils of war on pleasure, decadence, and conquest of a more carnal kind.
Earth sits in a forsaken corner of the universe, a very old, underdeveloped part of the sector which has no significant features – besides the pretty blue and green pearl which hangs among the stars. I think that’s a particularly poetic image. Better than thinking of Earth as a ball of dirt awash with soft, fleshy bags of meat – which is how Tarkan referred to it not five minutes ago.
“Fine. Eric,” he says.
“Eric will do,” I sigh. It won’t really matter, I suppose. Quite often we don’t exchange names with the mates we find. When we first visited Earth it was a vaginal free for all. Copulation took place casually and with great enthusiasm. Then humans developed language and the concept of clothing and law and the men realized that reproduction had something to do with sex and became very possessive over the women they bedded. It’s been a fascinating journey returning to Earth over time, always finding sweet new flesh to conquer. That reminds me.
“Remember, get the female’s consent before you penetrate.”
“Consent?” Tarkan narrows his eyes and cocks his head to the side, his horned ear twitching with interest. “I’m not familiar with the term.”
“Humans must agree to sexual intercourse. It’s a custom which has spread so far as to become enshrined in the laws of all human civilizations.”
Tarkan grunts and pulls up his information tablet. At my request he’s been brushing up on his human interactions in preparation for our visit. He jabs a sharp finger at me and reads from it. “The male chooses the female, who capitulates if she is suitably impressed by him, and rejects him if he is weak.”
“Those are from older cultural studies. They’re outmoded. Human culture evolves far more quickly than the animals themselves do. It is absolutely forbidden to take a female just because you want to. She must give her permission. Now put your suit on. We’re not leaving the ship until you’re properly dressed.”
He rumbles a growl which makes the walls of the shuttle shake. “I don’t like it. It’s too small.”
“They’re all too small. That’s the point. Put it on.”
I am eager to return to Earth. It’s time to make some new memories. I wish I didn’t have to chide Tarkan into doing everything he is supposed to do, but he rebels against the smallest requirements. He’s lucky he’s absolutely deadly on the battlefield.
Tarkan flaps his suit at me. “Seriously. Can’t it be taller?”
“No human is nine feet tall, Tarkan.”
We are more than nine feet tall, horned, and blessed with numerous natural defenses in the form of razor sharp teeth, claws, and ridges. As Scythkin, we are known across the universe as walking death. Some humans are attracted to that, but most of them run screaming if they see one of us as we truly are. They start calling for tanks, planes, and on one unfortunate occasion, a nuclear warhead. It’s safer to wear the suits. The suits feature technology which makes us look shorter than we are, something to do with mirrors and bending light. It’s not comfortable being squished into a measly seven foot high human shaped bag, but we do it for the love of human copulation.