PeculiarChangeling
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Symbiotic Submission: Issue 10, The Testing
🕑 Added 2023-10-29 02:17:11 +0000 UTCI awoke in a context both familiar and unknown.
Haven had quickly conditioned me to restraint. Controlling me, my range of motion, pinning me with their own form into predicaments and binding my limbs however it pleased them. Waking up to find my wrists and feet shackled, my body spread out naked on a table, carried with it many of the same sensations as the alien symbiote’s own domination of my body. The tight band stretched over my mouth, gagging my cries of alarm into a muffled ‘mmm’ also carried with it a degree of familiarity.
In contrast, the bright lights shining into my eyes and the total, complete nudity stood out as completely foreign and terrifying. More than the presence of new things, though, another absence really sank home how alone I was. Haven kept me in diapers all but constantly, and the absence of that familiar, crinkling bulge between my thighs told me that Haven was gone.
How stupid could I be? I knew Haven didn’t actually care about me. I was a game, a toy, a plaything, a buffet. They liked me only insofar as I was a supply of food and entertainment, and a possessive streak didn’t mean they actually cared about me as a person, only as an object. A prize to hold onto.
But, even knowing that they could manipulate my hormones and my emotions like a tech whiz reprogramming a computer, I’d allowed myself to believe that their care went deeper.
They’d abandoned me, but…
(Do you trust me?)
I’d said no, because there’d been no point in lying. I did not trust the alien that I relied upon, not really–in a situation like this, it had to be easier, safer, and smarter for them to abandon me and find another host. Their question stood out as a manipulation, a trick to get me to stay quiet and wait for them.
I hated that the manipulation worked. Even as I logically knew that Haven wouldn’t come for me, emotionally I wanted that rescue.
To my left, I heard a door open. I tried to turn my head, but I was held in place by some sort of frame, metal bars on my left and right that kept me looking straight up. Outside my range of vision, a voice said, “Sir, she’s awake.”
“She’s immobile, that won’t matter,” came a deep, masculine reply. “Run the tests. We need that sample.”
Footsteps clinked on the floor–it sounded like tile–and I saw a face appear above me, covered in a surgical mask and goggles that rendered it almost completely alien, more like a puppet or a doll than a real person. Their goggles seemed to line up with mine for a moment, but I couldn’t tell if they were making eye contact.
“I’m sorry that this is necessary,” the person–a doctor? A researcher? said. “It’s necessary–your brain has been overtaken by the parasite, and we don’t know yet how to free you from its control.”
I wanted to scream, to say, “I’m still in control, it didn’t take over my mind,” but the gag made it impossible, and…was that even true? I’d accepted a lot in the past week that would have been utterly unthinkable just a few days earlier.
Had Haven gotten into my brain? I knew they could influence my hormones, my emotions, but what about my memories? My identity? The concept hadn’t even crossed my mind.
“If it’s any consolation,” the doctor continued, “Your mind will be an excellent specimen for our research. What we learn from you could further our understanding of xenobiology by decades. Think of how much your sacrifice will improve science at large.”
It clicked, then. Not a doctor, not a researcher. A mad scientist.
The lights in the room changed, from brilliant white to a dark purple glow, and though I couldn’t see much, the parts of my skin that were visible to me began to fluoresce. The goggles of the scientist twinkled for a moment, and they stepped back.
“Luminescence seems to correlate with duration of contact,” they said, tapping a black-gloved finger to their masked chin. “Interesting. There is significantly greater contact here…”
Reaching down, they brushed their fingers over my breasts. The contact felt both clinical and violating, an upsetting blend of delicacy and lack of care. I heard a tearing sound, paper being ripped open, and then felt a sudden icy dampness brush over my nipples.
I yelped, as the cool swab ran over my skin. “No significant tissue from the parasite,” the scientist commented. “But…it seems there is even greater contact below. Perhaps we can get enough that this won’t be a waste after all…”
The fingers moved down, between my legs, and I shut my eyes. I wanted to shake and scream into the gag, but I forced myself to remain still–what good would it do?
(Haven,) I thought. (Please. Be better than I know you are.)
My body was not my own, and I didn’t even have the privilege of a tormenter who enjoyed my pleasure. Haven could hurt and humiliate, but they balanced it with bliss. This was just the bad parts, without even a sense of sadistic glee to latch onto.
I was meat to be used and discarded, for whatever this person considered to be ‘Science’.
They used another swab, probing between my legs, ice and violation. I longed to be anywhere else, to be in a bed, to have Haven on me instead of this stranger. I wanted them. I needed them.
A moment later, the lights went out. Even the fluorescence on my body lost its glow–though, a moment later, deep crimson emergency lights began to glow.
“Hmm?” The scientist mused, standing up straight.
A few seconds passed, and a crash echoed outside the door. They stepped to it, reaching for the handle.
The door exploded inward, thrown completely in off the hinges, and a figure stepped in–all inky black, covered in an amorphous void. Haven, with a new host, and…
“Oh god, Charlie!”
The face covering retracted, and I saw Billie, my best friend, eyes huge. She lunged forward, grabbing at the chains that held me down. They snapped in her fingers, allowing me to sit upright and look around the room. I spared a glance for the mad scientist–on the ground, motionless, a large lump on their head. Still, they were breathing, we hadn’t killed anyone.
At least, not that I’d seen.
“Your–I don’t know what. The fucking alien predator thing, it came and got me,” Billie babbled. “What the fuck is going on?”
Reaching for my gag, I ripped it free, gasping as I got the wretched thing off my face. “I don’t–Haven. They came back for me?”
In response, an inky tendril lashed out to my skin, and I heard them directly.
(I couldn’t handle a direct fight. I had to leave. I’m sorry.)
I didn’t even know how to react to that.
I stared, for as long as I dared, mind reeling–Haven had the possibility to leave, the incentive, every reason to do so. The rescue couldn’t have been easy, and even if they’d been confident, surely they’d known there was a real risk.
They’d put themselves in danger for my sake.
To save me.
Because…I mattered to Haven.
“You…” I swallowed, trying to somehow condense all these surging thoughts into a few words. “You came for me.”
“Of course,” Billie said, confused, thinking I was talking about her. “I wouldn’t leave you here to these shitfuckers, any more than you would leave me. Come on–the monster thing got all the guards, I think, but there’s got to be more coming.
She helped me to my feet, and we staggered together out of the lab. Dark, cast in deep red shadow, the basement facility looked like something out of a horror movie.
Not all of the red was from the lighting.
None of that frightened me, because I had Haven, and they had me.
Together, we got out.
Haven got me out.
