Chapter 6

6

- Arelion -

I'm seeing hundreds of reflections of myself. I see myself from every angle, and while they're all distorted, I could enjoy these images for a good while. My colors are so bright and vivid! My feathers so colorful and fresh and perfect, my shape so muscular and my movements so graceful! Despite the obvious attempts to make me look bad, I know it's fake and I find that I enjoy seeing the little details that I usually don't see, like the angle from behind and directly from the side. Mentally erasing the imperfections that the force field mirrors are inventing or exaggerating, I conclude that I look just as good as I think I do.

Some of the images make me chuckle with their ugly ridiculousness. Surely there must be a controlling force behind this, one that tries to seek out visual imperfections and amplify them?

I unfold my wings and beat them, rising from the floor. There's not much space between the force fields, and flying in this maze is close to impossible. But this must be another strange experiment gone rogue, and I have to get out of it.

My wings beat againsts the force fields, and my head keeps being pushed down. Moving among the mirrors is like being encased in jelly. There's no hard surfaces, just a soft resistance to the movements. I risk wearing myself out trying to stay airborne.

After another useless attempt, I fold my wings back in and grunt in annoyance.

"Are you all right?" I ask into an image of myself where my forehead is twice the size of my torso.

"I think I'm getting higher," Maeve's bright voice comes from just behind me. I don't turn to check — this science experiment distorts sound as well. "Try to jump and step down hard."

Well, her instructions are clear enough. Having no faith that it will work, I jump into the air without using my wings.

As I reach the top of the jump, the force field mirror under me is replaced by another that seems to be higher up.

"Interesting," I say into one of my reflections, ignoring the giant mouth. "Even the lower force fields are dynamic."

"Maybe it works if you fly?" Maeve suggests, her voice sounding as if she's falling past me.

I had already thought of that, and I grit my teeth as I beat my wings in the small confines of the mirrors. Indeed the mirror I was standing on is replaced by new ones, higher and higher. I hadn't noticed before, but it must have happened the whole time.

Now that I see how it works, I keep flying upwards, slowly making my way past the mirrors above me and seeing how new ones come into existence below me. I hadn't noticed before.

Before I know it, my head hits the rounded ceiling of the hemispherical hall. It too is mirrored, but it's hard metal.

"I'm at the ceiling," I report to Maeve. "Keep going upwards. I will find the apex of the curve."

"That was fast," she replies from somewhere below me. "I don't know how close I am."

"It helps to have wings," I tell her. "I can't imagine why you don't have them, too."

"Some mistake in my genetics, I'm sure," she says from far away, but still below me.

I locate the apex of the ceiling and hover there, beating my wings. The view below me is incredible. It's a million force fields, all showing some silly version of me. And yet I enjoy looking at them all. "I wonder what was the point of this experiment."

"To break your self esteem," Maeve says, strain in her voice as she keeps jumping to get higher. "It works, too."

"Does it?" I spread my wings luxuriously, and all the reflections follow suit. If I don't focus on any one of them and their ugly distortions, it's like I'm hovering over an army of myself. It's quite pleasant.

"Believe me. It does."

After a good while I spot Maeve's head, jumping straight up and then landing a finger's length higher than before. I fly over and hover above her. "There you are. How high can you get?"

She supports herself on her knees, breathing heavily. "I don't know. Is there a hatch in the ceiling?"

I point. "There's an outline of one, that's all I know. May I?"

Without waiting for her answer, I grab her under her arms and fly all the way up there with her.

I hoist the alien female higher in my arms, so that she can reach the ceiling. "See anything?"

Maeve places her palm flat in the exact middle of the ceiling, and then I have to dive out of the way of a giant cylinder that quietly descends until it stops with a soft hiss. It's an open structure, full of various kinds of alien technology.

"That must be what makes the force fields," Maeve says.

"Made," I correct. "They're all gone."

Below us, there's only the hemispherical hall with its metallic mirror surface. Our reflection is big and clear, but not too distorted.

I fly closer to the hanging cylinder and peer up through it. There's a lot of daylight in between the latticework of machinery. "We should be able to climb through."

"Yay," ‘Maeve sighs. "More climbing."

"I thought an alien without wings would enjoy that," I tell her. "If climbing would be such hardship, why not be born with wings?"

"I'll keep that in mind next time I pick my genetics," she assures me drily.

As it turns out, we don't need to climb. There's a round metal platform that runs on a shiny rail and brings us up through the cylinder and out of the hall of mirrors.

When it stops, we step off and find ourselves in a new room, much smaller and looking a lot like a laboratory.

As I drop Maeve to the floor, I can't resist holding her closer than necessary, just catching a hint of all the softness she offers. "There. We're out."

Maeve straightens her clothing. She's looking pale and drawn. "That machine is a nightmare. Let's make sure it can't work again." She extends her fighting stick and gives the exposed machinery in the top of the cylinder many hard, furious whacks. Pieces of shattered exotic material fly through the air, and I take a quick step to the side to avoid a big shard that comes whizzing. Blue sparks flash, and smoke starts rising.

Maeve keeps it up for a good while before she wipes the sweat off her brow. "I hope that broke it."

I raise my eyebrows at her sudden display of fury. "You didn't enjoy the mirrors?"

She shortens the stick again. "You're telling me you did?"

I look around the lab. "It was a fun little experiment, I thought, compared to the gravity one."

"I don't like mirrors, even at the best of times. But yes, it should be just your thing. You have the looks for them."

Taking a closer look at the cylinder, I give it two hard kicks where it counts. The whole structure slides down through the hole and hits the floor below with a deafening crash.

"I would have thought you do, too," I inform Maeve. "Despite your lack of feathers or wings, you are quite a shapely female."

She looks up at me with narrow eyes, as if she doesn't believe me. "Yeah?"

I frown. "Is it possible that you don't know about your own attractive features?"

"Do I have any?" Her voice is thin.

She appears to need some reassurance about it.

"You have many. It would take too long to list them all, so I'll simply tell you my favorites: Your hair, your nose, and your behind. I glance down at my crotch. "And for what it's worth, it seems I find you alluring. I've never known it to be insincere."

Her gaze runs down my body, snagging at the twitching bulge there. "That's worth a lot, I think. Thanks." She gives me a pale smile.

"Any time. I think that's a door over there." I nod towards the wall.

I walk over and press the door release. The door gives off a scraping sound as it slides to the side. Warm, humid air washes over me, full of organic smells. For a moment I'm just standing there, looking into the next room. "Another experiment, perhaps."

Maeve looks past me. "It's very green. Is there another way out of here than through that?"

I shrug. "Not as far as I can see. But we should look."

Our search comes up empty. Except for the cylinder hole and the broken hall of mirrors below, there's only one exit from this room.

"All right," Maeve says heavily. "I guess it doesn't look too bad. Just a giant greenhouse."

It's not a bad description. I've never seen any place as fertile as this. There are plants everywhere, hanging down in cascades and growing seemingly straight out of the floor. It's immensely dense, like some kind of giant, indoor jungle gone crazy.

It vanishes into the mist in the distance, despite the bright sunlight that fills the whole room without having any obvious source. Myriads of flowers bloom everywhere I look in a mind-boggling display of colors and contrasts.

I take a step into the room, and my feet sink into the soft ground. "Get your stick ready. We don't know what's hiding in here."

Maeve follows my advice and extends her stick. I stride straight ahead into the greenery, having to push away many hanging branches heavy with fruits and flowers. My boots swish through grass and leaves, and my wings are getting heavy with the moisture they soak up from the plants. The room is an explosion of verdant life, an absolute chaos of vegetation.

There's a hum from millions of little flying creatures all over the place, totally ignoring me but very interested in the flowers. That explains the scents — the flowers are using those things to procreate, carrying pollen and nectar and such between them.

"This could have smelled nice," Maeve says from behind me, "but even good smells can be too strong."

I only grunt in agreement. My mind is swimming with all these scents, struggling to separate them and classify them. Sweet, heavy, musky, spicy, light, sweet, sour — the nuances are too many and so varied I have to concentrate to keep my balance. Being attacked by thousands of hard laser beams in every color would be less stressful for my eyes than this is for my sensitive predator nose. Each scent is a distinct entity, each one trying to dominate, but at the same time a piece of a mosaic so complicated and ever-changing that it overwhelms me. Some scents are familiar, some remind me of my home planet, some remind me of people I knew, some remind me of experiences, and some are completely new and alien…

"Are you all right, Arelion?" Someone grabs my wrist.

I regain some control and look around. I'm leaning on a thick, green stalk, trying to stay upright in the insane attack of so many intense smells. Maeve is looking up at me with a worried look on her sweet face.

"There are so many smells," I rasp, still dizzy. "So strong…"

"It almost makes me sick, too," she sympathizes. "I think you sense them more intensely than I do. Can you go on?"

I draw in breath through my mouth, but still millions of smells fight for dominance. It's all about procreation, each flower competing intensely for the attention of the insects.

I have to latch onto one of the smells that's not from a flower.

Leaning in, I put my face close to Maeve's hair and let her scent seep through, ignoring the other ones.

Ah, yes. There it is. The clean scent of alien female, her skin, her hair. Her anxiousness and her relief, her exertion in the hall of mirrors, and her anger at the force fields.

And her sex.

There's no mistaking it. The strongest element of her scent is undeniably pure female. It's fresh, too. She's aroused right now.

I can't blame her. My crotch swells, and I gasp for air. I'm astonishingly excited, myself. Strange, intense images pass in front of my eyes, all involving Maeve.

"This place," I growl. "The scents… it's a runaway fertility experiment."

"I think so, too," Maeve groans. "Those insects are absolutely frantic. And I feel… strange." She stares at my crotch, where the swelling is painfully hard and the fabric is straining to control it. Then she looks up at me with glassy eyes. "Maybe we can sit down. Or lie down…"

Oh, how I long to lie down among the flowers, to pull Maeve down to me, to flay that garment off her, and to feast on all that it conceals…

"No," I croak, straightening up with a mobilization of all my willpower. "We have to get out of here. If we stay, we'll never leave."

She comes in close and puts both hands on my bare chest. "We'll just stay for a little while. Just enough time to…" She gulps.

With another great feat of willpower, I grab her wrist and drag her along, through the humid greenery, trying my best to ignore all the other scents and keeping Maeve's in the center of my attention. That doesn't do anything to alleviate my arousal, but at least I don't lose control of my own mind.

Making my way through the plants is not that hard. None of them have thorns or seem to be poisonous, so I stomp through the foliage and only walk around the thickest stems and the heaviest clusters of branches and flowers hanging down from above. I can't seem to get rid of the dizziness, and I often have to steady myself on the plants I pass.

For an observer it must look like I'm drunk or on drugs, staggering through the jungle with a beautiful female in tow.

The terrain appears to rise and we're going uphill. That may be a good sign. Perhaps the exit from this crazy place is located higher in the room.

Clusters of strong-smelling flowers stroke along my face, dripping with fertile fluids. The tiny insects hum incessantly, their buzzing wings carrying them to and fro. I try to see if they converge on any one place that might indicate an exit, but all the smells and the intense arousal make it impossible for me to concentrate on anything other than not letting the onslaught paralyze me.

I'm hyper aware of Maeve's little hand in mine, the way our palm sweat mixes to an exotic concoction in the same way I'd love to mix other fluids with hers.

"Areliooonnnnn…" Maeve whines behind me, yanking at her hand. "Can't we stop? Just lie down and… touch? Just for a while. Look, there's grass…"

I force myself to not look where she's pointing. The last thing we need now is an alluring clearing with soft grass.

I start hearing the cheerful clucking of running water. Perhaps there's a pond where I can soak my head and maybe rinse the strongest of these smells out of my sinuses.

I go on up the hill, Maeve in tow. The air gets heavier and the scents more intense the higher we get. The air is so thick it feels like I could cut it with a knife. It's like breathing in a sticky fluid. My willpower is weakening fast. Any moment now I'll give in to my impulses, twirl Maeve into my arms, and kiss her deeply.

"This is an insane experiment," I growl. "The pheromones in the air are so strong they must violate every biological weapons treaty in the galaxy!"

"‘Violate'," Maeve groans thinly behind me, her voice full of need. "I like that word so much…"

My crotch is so hard I'm walking awkwardly. Why would anyone manufacture pants this tight, with absolutely no give in the fabric?!

The sound of running water is closer now. Surely there can't be a fountain up here?

There isn't. As I push aside a great curtain of hanging vines overstrewn with blue blossoms, I spot a small waterfall straight ahead. Tiny drops twinkle like gems in the white light.

There's a small pond that seems to have formed naturally. Behind the waterfall there's a bit of bare metal that I think must be part of the basic structure of the room. It looks like the original watering system of the place has broken, and this waterfall is the result.

I drag Maeve over to the pond, trying to ignore how soft the grass feels under my boots and how nice it would be to lie on, or to lay someone down on... "We can drink and cool down."

"Such a nice place!" Maeve exclaims. "Let's stay here, Arelion."

I check the water, making sure it is in fact water and that it's not close to boiling or freezing. Then I kneel down on the bank and splash some into my face. It's pleasant, but it does nothing for my excitement. I take a few small sips. The water has a sweet taste to it, but I don't think it's poisonous.

Having established that, I drink more. It's been several hours since I last had any kind of drink.

Finally I put my whole head under and inhale through my nose, desperate to get rid of the dangerously potent chemicals in the air.

It seems to work, and when I pull my head out of the water, my mind feels slightly clearer.

"It should be safe," I state as I wipe my face and lean back. "But don't drink too much?—"

"I need a bath," Maeve chirps. She's taken off her clothing and dropped it on the grass, and now she steps into the pond wearing only two small, black garments in the most crucial places.

The sight of her almost naked body astounds me. She's the most attractive and alluring female I've ever seen. Her pale skin shines in the white light, smooth and soft-looking as she stands to her hips in the water, splashing it for fun. Her hair has an artful messiness to it; her bones are interestingly visible in certain places and hidden in others. In some places, her muscles and sinews work and flex, while in others they're all completely hidden behind a layer of charming softness.

And, I notice with a shock that almost makes my knees buckle under me, she has no Mark on her. Not a trace of a Mark anywhere! She's unclaimed!

My crotch tries to swell more, but it's just not possible. Instead, a hot flush goes through me.

I must have that female. If I don't, I'll explode.

Maeve looks up at me with a little smile on her face. "Come and join me! The water is perfect." Her gaze goes to my crotch and she licks her lips with a small, pink tongue. Her thin lower garment has been soaked with water and is now almost fully transparent, showing more than a hint of the secret treasures behind. Oh my sweet moons, is that hair? Like on her head? All this was too much already. Now she must be just toying with me.

If I had the use of my reason, I would have to consider the possibility that she's an enemy agent or extremely life-like robot, sent to weaken me and muddle my brain with hormones.

She looks away and strokes one small hand through her short hair, head laid back, eyes closed and lips parted.

My hands tremble. I clench them into fists, but it's no help. I can't resist her anymore.

And just one taste of her charms surely can't be that bad? I will get it out of my system. After that, we can go on and find the exit. Whatever happens here, we need never talk about it again.

A small voice in the back of my mind is screaming ‘it's a trap!', but I don't care.

In one move I untie my pants with trembling hands and discard them, enjoying Maeve's gasp when she sees me fully revealed. My manhood stands proudly and eagerly skywards, ready for the claiming of this breathtaking female.

Maeve doesn't recoil in horror or disgust, so I jump into the pond and take her into my arms.

"That's very big." She cranes her neck to angle her face to me, her lips falling open and her eyes focusing on my mouth. Her breath is quick, and her heartbeat is like that of caught prey, hard and fast.

The first touch of her lips on mine is warm and soft, her hot breath swiping across my chin. The tip of my cock is touching her midsection, and it takes all my attention. And it takes the last of my restraint.

"Oh yes," she purrs as I disengage. "More."

I grab her hair and pull her head back, a predator instinct to bare her throat for me. She closes her eyes and offers her pale, vulnerable skin, moaning in feminine lust.

Ancient instincts prepare me for the hot spray of steaming blood as my teeth touch her smooth, warm skin where the heartbeat throbs. But I don't bite, the way my distant, world-conquering ancestors would have done. I lick instead, enjoying the faint salty taste mixed with her alienness.

"This could be good," I growl, mostly to myself, before I continue down her body, licking and biting where the skin offers itself. The softness is better than I had dared think.

"Ooh yesss," Maeve replies, her voice hoarse as I push the upper garment aside to bare her pale, twin protrusions.

My mouth seeks the softness, which reaches impossible levels. I gently bite down on one nipple, bringing another moan from her as the nub tightens to a hard pebble.

My vision has a pink tinge to it, and my whole body is hyper-sensitive.

I suddenly realize why. "That water," I groan. "There was something in it." I should have thought of that. If the air makes me dizzy with desire, surely the water, which may have been running through this crazy jungle and absorbed the chemicals for years or decades, must be absolutely full of the same powerful substances. And now they're inside me, ruining what little self control I had.

I lift Maeve up on the bank and pull the little sliver of semi-transparent fabric to the side. She's revealed to me in all her glory. My manhood feels like it's ready to burst.

But if it's the chemicals in the air and the water that make me feel this way, then that may be the case with her, too. She wasn't nearly this amorous before. If anything, she didn't like me one bit.

And so, she may regret all of this later. It would be like having my way with an incapacitated woman. UnMarked or not, it's not right.

The thought helps me regain a tiny bit of discipline. But not enough to stop this entirely.

I'm still desperate to get my fill of her.

I dive into the desire.