Chapter 11: A Primitive Wardrobe
The heat came less like a wave now and more like a permanent climate.A muggy, internal summer that Emily wore beneath her skin. Her body was no longer entirely her own, and the programming ensured her mind wasn’t either.
Kneeling in the warm mud by the iridescent pond, the curve of her belly rested heavily against her thighs. The tattered remains of her shirt, thin as gossamer, did little to cover the swell. She looked up at Sarah, who stood before her, backlit by the pulsing violet light of a spire. Sarah’s own clothes were just scraps, leather and fabric frayed into indecency.Emily’s mouth watered. It wasn’t a thought; it was a physiological response, as automatic as salivating at the smell of food. The need was a hollow ache behind her ribs, tightening her throat.
She leaned forward, nuzzling the coarse hair at the base of Sarah’s cock. It was warm, alive, a part of Sarah that had become as familiar to her as the woman’s hands or voice. She took the head into her mouth, the taste a familiar metallic-salt.Sarah’s sharp intake of breath was a reward.
Her hands found Sarah’s solid thighs, calloused skin under her palms. She bobbed her head, working the length with a devotion that bypassed her conscious brain.This was maintenance.This was communion. This was the only prayer she knew in this godless place.
Sarah groaned, her fingers threading through Emily’s cropped auburn hair.Not pulling, just holding.Anchoring. “Good,” she murmured, the word rough. “Just like that.”
Emily increased her rhythm, swallowing around the shaft when Sarah pushed deeper.She gagged, eyes watering, but she didn’t stop. The discomfort was a part of the ritual, a sharp counterpoint to the pooling warmth in her gut. She felt Sarah’s muscles tense, heard the rhythm of her breath fracture.
The release, when it came, was a flood of that peculiar, silvery fluid. It was cooler than human seed, shimmering with a latent energy that hit Emily’s system like a drug. She swallowed convulsively, milking every drop until Sarah softened in her mouth. The heat in her own belly flared, then settled into a contented, humming glow.
She pulled back, licking her lips clean, her green eyes hazy with satisfaction. She started to smile, a lazy, sated thing, but the expression died as her gaze drifted.“Sarah,” she said, her voice hoarse.
Sarah, still catching her breath, followed her look.Their clothing.What was left of it. The few clinging scraps of fabric on Emily’s shoulders, the last vestiges of Sarah’s jeans, were visibly dissolving. The edges frayed not from wear, but from some accelerated decay, the threads retracting like burning film.
“What the hell?” Sarah reached out, but her fingers only brushed disintegrating cloth.Within seconds, they were both standing naked in the humid air. Emily’s freckled skin, pale and now rounded with pregnancy, and Sarah’s weathered, scarred form were fully exposed. The gallery beyond the barrier erupted into a frenzied chorus of clicks and chitters.Before Emily could cross her arms over her chest, a low hum filled the glade. Two nozzles, smooth and organic-looking like the proboscis of some giant insect, descended from the swirling false sky.They stopped a few feet above them and released a warm, luminescent foam.
It coated them from head to toe, tingling where it touched. It smelled of ozone and something vaguely sweet. The foam slid over their skin, and with it, the last dust of their old clothes, the grime of the cave, even the sheen of sweat and mud, seemed to dissolve. It rinsed away, leaving their skin clean and strangely sensitized.The nozzles retracted. A moment later, a hiss echoed from the cavern mouth. A previously seamless section of the rock wall slid open, revealing a shallow niche.Inside lay two folded piles of material.
Sarah walked over, her bare feet silent on the obsidian.She pulled them out. Animal furs, cured but primitive, stitched together with thick, dark sinew. One was a larger hide, fashioned into a simple tunic and leggings. The other was smaller, a loincloth and a halter top.They smelled of earth, of musk, of dead things.
Sarah ran her thumb over the rough stitching.A grim, resigned smile touched her lips. She tossed the smaller set to Emily, who caught it against her belly.
“Guess they want us to look the part,” Sarah said, her tone flat.Emily unfolded the loincloth.It was soft, pliable, but undeniably savage. Putting it on felt like a surrender, a costume for the role they’d been assigned: primeval breeding pair.She fastened it around her hips, the fur strange against her skin. The halter was a struggle, her breasts fuller now, but she managed.
Sarah shrugged into the tunic, the fur dark against her skin. She looked like a figure from a forgotten myth, something carved from a cliff face.It suited her, in a terrible way.
“It’s practical,” Emily said, her analytical mind clawing for a foothold.“More durable. Warmer at night.” She was trying to logic the humiliation away.
“It’s a goddamn diorama,” Sarah corrected, but without anger.She fastened the leggings.“But yeah. It’s practical.”
A new tremor, different from the heat, went through Emily. She pressed a hand to her side.Sarah was at her side in an instant. “What is it?”
“Just a… a flutter.Like gas.” But it wasn’t. It was quick, a faint, brushing sensation deep inside her, like a moth trapped behind her navel.Her eyes widened. “Oh.”
Sarah’s hands replaced hers, spreading over the firm curve. They waited, both holding their breath.For a long minute, there was nothing. Then, a distinct, soft pressure rolled against Sarah’s palm.Sarah’s breath hitched. Her stormy eyes snapped up to Emily’s, all the hardness gone, replaced by pure, unguarded wonder. A laugh burst out of her, short and disbelieving.“Hey,” she whispered to Emily’s stomach. “Hey there.”
Emily started crying.Again.It seemed all she did now. But these tears were different, clean and sharp.The baby knew her touch.Knew Sarah’s. In this nightmare, a piece of them was awake and moving.
Sarah pulled Emily into her arms, the new furs soft between them.She kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. It was tender, possessive, desperate.
“We need a crib,” Emily murmured into her neck, repeating their old joke with a new, urgent meaning.Sarah nodded, her chin resting on Emily’s head. She looked past Emily, toward the cave.“I’ve been collecting bones from the food dispensary. The long, thin ones.I’ve got enough.”
She had. She’d been quietly gathering them for weeks, stacking them in a neat pile near the moss bed. Emily had thought it was just Sarah’s need to keep busy, to build.Now she understood. Sarah had been planning for this from the moment they saw the hologram.
They stood there, clinging to each other in their new, old skins, as the alien suns cycled through their artificial sunset. The gallery’s noise had subsided into a watchful quiet. They were a better show now, Emily thought, a hand on her belly where their future kicked.More authentic.The primal couple, expecting a primal child.
Sarah finally spoke, her voice low and firm against Emily’s ear. “Tomorrow, we start on the crib.A safe place. Our place.” She said it like a vow, a line drawn in the dirt of this alien cage. The furs weren’t just costumes; they were the uniform for the job of survival. And they were finally getting to work.