© Cheryl Wolverton
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Onward he ran, desperate to get away, fearful, knowing he was being stalked. He stumbled in the darkness, but knew if he zlinned, that would be it, he wouldn't escape this time. He had to get back to safety, to in-territory. They had guards to keep these people out, guards who would protect them from such as what stalked him.
He had to keep going, onward, away, away, far away until he could hide, stay out of site, away from those who wanted him.
A dog barked, the sound echoing eerily in the distance. Without zlinning he felt disoriented, almost lost. It was much like a Gen without a leg trying to run, or walking down a street during the middle of the day blindfolded. His terror blinded him to what his psychospatical directions told him.
He had to zlin, had to see which way to go. If he didn't, how could he avoid them? He knew he was close to the border, really close. If he could just make it back across, back to safety…
The sound of a horse from his left startled him. Forcing himself to stay hypo he turned the opposite way to run…run…run…
Listening he heard the faint sound of water.
He was almost home free.
Reaching up he wiped at the sweat off his brow. He saw the bulging nodes on his arms, felt the ronaplin as it secreted and flowed down his tentacles.
He would not….he would not….
His gut clenched. His heart raced. Just a short distance more and he'd be back in-territory where he would be protected from the killers, then he could satisfy himself, then he could live.
The sound of the dogs got closer.
He paused trying to decide which way to go, trying to listen to that internal orientation that told him just where he was…
Were the dogs after him?
He had to know, just had to zlin.
What would one quick zlin hurt?
Going hyperconscious he realized exactly what it would hurt--but too late.
A beautiful bright selyn field no more than a stones throw away, was heading right his way.
It throbbed with promise, with exultation, with victory.
No, he thought. No…I won't…
The selyn field approached. It's golden swirling offering hypnotized him, reaching out like gentle tentacles of post and wrapping around him with the offer of fulfillment…but he knew…this wasn't the fulfillment he wanted…this wasn't what he needed….
The field turned wooing like a siren tempting her victim toward the rocks. It was irresistible, needy, demanding…
Without his consent, his feet moved forward, first one, then the other. He felt as if the field lifted him and guided him ever so gently forward, on and on toward it's beckoning call.
He resisted with all he was worth. A dry sob escaped, then another. A low moan filled his chest.
The field surrounded him.
Hands grasped his arms.
Though he was ten times stronger than this Gen, ten times faster, the Gen had known all he had to do was get him hyper and he wouldn't be able to resist.
Even as he worked not to wrap his tentacles around this beasts arms, his laterals slithered out making contact.
He forced his head away. I won't live…I'll die, he thought.
The Gen's mouth came down on his cheek.
No! He found himself turning as if in a dream to meet those cool dry lips.
Suddenly his system exploded with selyn. Dynopter after dynopter poured in like an uncontrollable tidal wave, flooding him faster than he could take it. It screamed along his nerves as he, unable to stop it, had selyn greedily forced in every juncture of his system.
Helpless to fight the burgeoning joy the Gen gave him, he rode along and rose upon the tide of selyn this animal forced into him. Deeper and deeper the Gen pushed, filling all of his pathways and then with one last burst of selyn the Gen exploded with joy.
It was too much.
He fell to his knees, the Gen still holding him, now supporting him as he sobbed. Over and over he sobbed as pent up emotions of the last weeks, last months finally released their torturous hold.
The Gen continued to cradle him, stroking his hair, his shoulders, his back.
He was ashamed because all he could think of now was his reaction, what he wanted to do with the release of all of these emotions. After all, he was only Sime. He had no control of these urges, not when one of these animals got ahold of him. He realized now as the Gen held him that it wasn't a man at all, but a woman, a very soft, pillowy woman.
The Gen positively trembled with her post reaction. And he knew, oh yes, he knew what came next. These wild Gens demanded, took what they wanted, including giving their selyn to unwilling Simes. They called it need, forcing it on the unwitting Sime as they did. They never gave the Sime a choice. If a Sime was caught out-territory, they were fair game.
Exhausted he lifted his head to meet the gaze of the Gen who had caught him. She was small, smaller than he had expected, especially with the nager she carried. With a long slow smile, she whispered, "Come with me, pet. You'll do fine to satisfy my need from now on."
Though he wanted to escape, to get back to the normal world in-territory, he knew he would never again be the same. She had forced on him her selyn for her pleasure but he knew he would never again be able to live the complacent life of simple selyn transfer.
He would be one of the outcast, one of the oddities, one of the wanted…one of the Simes who was slave to their Gens.
[return to the Secret Pens]