Chapter 13: Third Baseman

Harry awoke on the couch, the dying embers of a sordid dream smoldering in his mind as he came to. One of his arms was numb, and he looked down to see that Holly was sleeping on it. She had turned to face him sometime during the night, her head buried in his chest, her fluffy antennae tickling his nose as they brushed against his face. She was surprisingly warm, her slight frame pressed up tightly against his, one of her four hands clutching the fabric of his jumpsuit.

He began to move slowly, trying not to wake her, but he didn’t succeed. Holly’s face emerged to peer up at him with her expressive, pink eyes, blinking groggily. Her antennae twitched, and then she pulled them back, as though embarrassed by the fact that they were touching him. She couldn’t blush, not with a face made of chitin, but her body language gave the same impression.

“Sleep better?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you,” she replied hesitantly. She sat up, freeing his arm, and slid off the edge of the couch. Harry wiggled his fingers, tingling sensation slowly returning to them as she straightened her gossamer wings like a normal woman might straighten a skirt.

“You want some breakfast?” Harry asked, standing up and stretching. The couch didn’t exactly make for an ideal bed, perhaps they should sleep in the bedroom next time. Somehow, the idea of sharing a real bed with Holly seemed even less appropriate.

“I should eat more nutrient paste, yes,” she replied as she made her way over to the kitchen. Harry followed after her, stepping around Blackjack’s prone body.

“Wake up, you lazy lizard,” he said as he gave the Krell a gentle kick in the tail. The reptile opened one eye, peering back at him disinterestedly. “You can sleep now, it’s my watch.”

BJ grumbled his displeasure, rolling onto his back, Harry laughing mischievously.

“Then don’t sleep on watch, you handbag.”

“Why do you call him that?” Holly asked. “Handbag?”

“Because he sometimes eats loose change?” Harry suggested, giving her a shrug. “There’s an animal on Earth that resembles a Krell, we used to make clothing out of them.”

“A term of endearment, then?”

“Now you’re gettin’ it.”

He made his way over to the cupboard and fished out one of the transparent packets of yellow fluid, Holly beginning to drink through her proboscis as he sat down beside her.

“So what’s on the itinerary for today?” Harry asked. Holly didn’t reply, focusing on her meal. “Now that you’ve run out of ambassadors to argue with, I figured we might do somethin’ fun, hang out a little.”

“I must meditate in preparation for the next council meeting,” Holly replied dismissively.

“Oh, for...” Harry lay his head on the table, giving her an exasperated sigh. “What the hell is the matter with you these past couple of days, anyway? I thought we were startin’ to become friends? You were loosenin’ up, having a good time.”

“I did not come here to ‘have a good time’,” she replied tersely.

“Well, you’ve got shit all else to do until the next meeting,” Harry complained. “Listen, I’ve been cooped up in this apartment for the same amount of time as you have. It ain’t exactly a cakewalk for me either, lady.”

“I’m sure you have ways of entertaining yourself, Sergeant.”

“And stop calling me that like we don’t know each other,” he grumbled, “my name is Harry.”

Holly finished off her food packet, then left the table, heading for the bathroom.

“Where are you goin’?” Harry asked.

“I wish to bathe,” she replied, “it helps me clear my head.”

He rose from his seat, marching across the room, Holly backing up against the bathroom door as he loomed over her.

“If I did somethin’ to piss you off, then fair enough,” he growled. “But this whole cold-shoulder thing has to stop. Either tell me what’s eatin’ you, or tell me to go back to being a faceless sentry, and I’ll do that.”

“Sergeant Hayes, r-remember your duty!” she stammered. There was fear in her pink eyes now, but not of him. Whatever had frightened her was something else. “P-please back away,” she begged as he took another step closer, her voice strained. She closed her eyes and turned her head away, as though she could no longer stand the sight of him, unable to retreat any further.

“You’re trembling,” he muttered, reaching out and taking her hand. Her fleshy fingers were shaking, Holly opening her eyes again, peering up at him imploringly. “Are you sick or somethin’?”

“I ... I cannot do this anymore,” she mumbled, Harry cocking his head at her.

“What?”

“I feel like I am tearing myself in half,” she continued. Harry felt her reciprocate, her grip tightening, clinging to him as though he was the only thing keeping her from breaking down. Had all the stress finally gotten to her? The constant fear of a second attack that might come at any moment?

“Hey,” he whispered, reaching out and cupping her cheek in his palm. Her face was smoother than it looked, he couldn’t even feel the seams between her chitin plates as he stroked her carapace with his thumb in an attempt to soothe her. “I’m not just your guard, I’m your friend. I’m here to help, alright?”

“That is part of the problem,” she whined, another of her fleshy hands gripping his wrist. She was surprisingly strong. “I no longer know what I am doing.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, bewildered.

“I am an Ambassador,” she began, her voice wavering. “That is all I was made to be. I am not like you, I was born already knowing my purpose, I exist to perform a single function. Before I came here, everything was so clear, so simple. But now ... I am feeling things that I was never supposed to feel, experiencing emotions that only distract me from my work. The more I interact with humans, the more my human attributes seem to express themselves, and I don’t know what to do!”

It wasn’t the threat of murder after all, she was going through some kind of ... Bug identity crisis.

“I thought you said that Bugs were emotional creatures?” Harry asked. “I’m confused.”

“They are,” she replied, “but we do not feel like this. They do not feel like this. I cannot even be sure of what species I am anymore! What if I am ... damaged? What if I can longer perform my function? Everyone is depending on me. My sisters, my father, my Queen...”

Harry didn’t know if she had the ability to cry, but she seemed to be on the verge of a breakdown. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her in, holding her shaking body close in an attempt to calm her, Holly freezing up as her feathery antennae brushed against his face.

“If you were made to bridge the gap between Bugs and people, then you’re doin’ a pretty good job,” he muttered. He felt Holly laugh into his chest, her small frame shaking as she took handfuls of his uniform.

“You think you’re helping, but you’re only making things worse,” she whispered. “Those stupid jokes, your smell ... I fear that I am losing my mind.”

“I don’t do pheromones, so you’re gonna have to express yourself with words, cuddlebug.”

“A term of endearment,” she chuckled, pausing for a moment to formulate her reply. “When I am with you I feel ... giddy, impaired. Some of the things that you say make my stomach churn as though it were full of insects, there is something about your scent that makes me ... I cannot describe it. I want so badly to be close to you, so badly that it burns, but I am straying from my intended path. Laughing, playing, ‘hanging out’. What does it mean that those things make me happier than fulfilling my purpose? What if I was ... made wrong?”

“We call those ‘butterflies’,” Harry explained, “that feelin’ in your belly. Listen, Holly. There’s never been anyone like you before, this is all new ground that you’re treadin’. Who’s to say what you should or shouldn’t be doing? Humans make time for both work and play, it’s not a big deal. You don’t have to feel guilty because you’re not devotin’ one hundred and ten percent of your being to your job. If you worked here, we’d send you on a mandatory vacation before you burned out.”

“You do not understand,” she mumbled, pressing her face into his collar as though trying to block out the world around her. “I ... I cannot concentrate on anything, you are all that I can think about! How can I be expected to perform my function when I find myself so distracted? Every strand of my DNA was engineered by the Queen, every gene selected for a specific purpose, to help me be the best Ambassador that I could be. Why would this happen unless something went wrong? A ... a random mutation, an unpredictable conflict between human and Jarilan genes?”

“Have you ever considered that maybe the Queen wants you to explore these feelings?” Harry suggested, Holly glancing up at him. “If she’s half as smart as you say she is, then maybe she knew this would happen.”

“But ... why would I not be briefed?” Holly asked. “Why would she not warn me of this?”

“She’s a Bug too, maybe she had no idea what to expect,” he replied with a shrug. “How’s she supposed to know what human emotions feel like, or what you’d go through? The human experience is a whole lot more complicated than what’s written on the strands of our DNA. What if figurin’ out how to be human is as much a part of your mission as being an Ambassador?”

“Perhaps she believed that through spending time with my father, I would be better prepared for this eventuality,” she wondered. “But that is not all, Sargeant Hayes. Harry...”

Her trembling reached its peak, Holly finally seeming to crack, her antennae beginning to stroke his face and neck. It was like being tickled by giant feathers, the delicate strands seeming to sample his skin, lingering there as Holly’s grip on his clothes tightened.

“Your ‘scent’,” she mumbled, emphasizing the word as though she was describing something beautiful or profound. “I cannot escape it. It permeates the suite, your clothing, the very air that I breathe. I tried to wash the particles from my antennae, they are so sensitive that I can pick out the merest hint of a scent, a single molecule, but there is no way to be free of it...”

“I ... uh,” Harry mumbled, not knowing how to react. “I can ... take another shower or something if it’s botherin’ you.”

“No,” she grumbled, her frustration getting the better of her. “You cannot prevent it any more than I can! It seeps from your pores, clouds you like a perfume, your pheromones are overpowering.”

“Pheromones?” he asked.

“Yes! I have told you before that my people are sensitive to pheromones. They are our primary means of communication, our native language. Humans produce them in small amounts, but something about you ... it is as though the more time we spend together, the more receptive I become to them. The scent is so ... thick, heady. I find myself unable to even think when you are near. I am rocked by impulses that I do not understand, desires that I do not know how to satisfy.”

“When you slept beside me on the couch,” Harry began, feeling like he was confessing to having done something inappropriate. “I ... noticed somethin’ too. You smell ... more like a woman than you should. It gets into my head, makes me remember things, things that I associate with ... I don’t know how to put it politely.”

“Y-you can pick up my pheromones?” Holly stammered. “The human sense of smell should not be able to detect something like that! My father had to be surgically altered to even have a hope of speaking our language.”

“What do Bugs usually do about this?” Harry asked.

“Bugs do not feel this way,” she insisted. “I want ... to be closer to you, closer than I am now. I do not understand what that means, but my heart races, my stomach is full of ... butterflies. We have to fix this!” she added hurriedly, her four hands pawing at his uniform as she pleaded with him. “If I am forced to attend the meeting in this state...”

“Part of being human is not knowin’ what to do,” Harry said, catching her face in his hands in an attempt to calm her. Her darting eyes met his, and her shaking seemed to abate somewhat, her breathing slowing as she peered up at him. “We’re not born knowin’ how everythin’ works. We have to learn, experiment, and that’s okay. It’s normal for us to figure things out as we go.”

“E-experiment?” she stammered.

“Follow your instincts, just do what feels right.”

Holly stood on her toes, struggling to reach him, her upper pair of hands resting on his shoulders as she pressed her face against his. She closed her eyes, Harry’s widening as he felt the smooth, cool material that made up her jaw press against his lips. Again, he was reminded of warm plastic. It was soft, malleable, but firmer than flesh. He tasted copper as the plates split open like an origami puzzle, her winding, fleshy proboscis darting out to sample him like a tongue.

Before he knew what he was doing, he had parted his lips, her organ entwining with his own. Her embrace was clumsy, exploratory, the prehensile tube tickling the inside of his mouth as it darted across his palate and pushed into his inner cheeks. His hands slid down her torso, coming to rest about her flared skirt, his merest touch making the sensitive creature shiver.

When she finally withdrew, he glanced down to see her batting her long lashes at him, her antennae still caressing his face and neck as she reveled in his scent.

“Is ... was that ... right?” she muttered.

“Is that what you wanted to do?” he replied, still a little dazed from her impromptu kiss.

“Yes...”

“Then it was right.”

“I feel ... warmer,” she muttered, fidgeting as though she couldn’t stand still. Her fleshy fingers grasped at his uniform, pulling at the fabric. She didn’t know what to do with herself now.

“Do you want to do more?” Harry asked, Holly nodding sheepishly. “I think I’ve figured out what your problem is,” he said, taking one of her hands and leading her towards the adjacent bedroom. Blackjack watched them from his position on the wood floor, loosing an approving rumble as the door slid closed behind them.

When Harry turned to look at Holly, releasing her hand, he saw that she was squirming. Her torso shifted subtly, her thighs almost seeming to rub together as she slowly gyrated her hips. It wasn’t arousal, he realized, at least not entirely. This was how insects breathed, she had to move so that she could take in air through the tiny spiracles in her carapace, this was her equivalent of breathlessness.

“Why are we in here?” she asked, glancing about the room.

“Trust me, this works better lyin’ down,” Harry replied. A gentle, cautious approach was required. Holly had evidently never done this before, she might not even know what ‘this’ was. The last thing he wanted to do was alarm her. The way that she had kissed him ... it gave him the distinct impression that her body was taking her for a ride. Whatever instincts and hormones the Queen had instilled in her knew exactly what was going on, but Holly didn’t.

“Do Bugs make love?” he asked.

“Make love ... mating?” Holly asked, her antennae twitching nervously. “All members of the colony are capable of r-reproducing, yes. But the Winged Drones, the males, only mate with the Queen under normal circumstances. Most Bugs will live out their lives never seeing a male. Is that ... why I feel this way?”

“I think so,” he replied, stroking her cheek again. She shivered contentedly, pushing her face into his hand like a cat in search of affection. Had she never been touched in this way before? Was it all new to her? He felt her fingers on the back of his hand, holding it there as she nuzzled, her eyes closing. The ring of fur around her wrist was so soft, like a fluffy bracelet.

“I like it when you touch me,” she whispered, Harry feeling his heart leap in his chest. He ran his other hand down her smooth torso, his fingers tracing the contours of her corset-like armor. The two globes of flesh between her ruff and her corset wobbled softly when she moved, Harry glancing down at what looked uncannily like pink cleavage that was being pushed up by the chitin.

“What about here?” he asked. His fingers skirted the flap of armor that hung between her thick thighs, an inverted triangle with rounded edges, like a rigid loincloth.

“I ... uh ... cannot feel anything there,” she replied. “That is armor, it is not a part of me.”

“Oh, right,” Harry chuckled. “It’s hard for me to tell where you end, and your armor begins.”

“I should take it off ... right?” she asked hesitantly.

“If you want me to be able to touch whatever’s beneath it, yeah.”

Her lower pair of arms moved down to her waist, her trembling fingers delving into the indent where the front and back of her torso seemed to be joined together. Harry stepped back, his eyes widening in surprise as her corset and skirt began to detach from the rest of her body. The Drone foot soldiers of the Betelgeusian armies wore supplemental armor over their colorful carapaces for extra protection, matched to its exact color and texture. This was more like clothing than battle armor, but the same logic applied. It was indistinguishable from her natural exoskeleton.

The entire torso section, along with the flared skirt and the smaller pair of her gossamer wings, came away from her body like a section of hull from a ship. She let it fall to the carpet, her lower pair of hands clasped behind her back, the upper pair crossing over her chest to conceal what could only be described as breasts.

She was nude now, Harry seeing her as she really was for the first time. Where once there had been a rigid corset, there was now pink, exposed flesh. She still had a carapace, as an insect, she could not have survived without one. But here it was sparse, thin, providing only structural support rather than protection. Just like on the rest of her body, it caught the light, shining with a colorful iridescence that made it look like it had been carved from a giant pearl. It was shaped almost like lingerie or a bathing suit, leaving a diamond-shaped section of her flat belly exposed like a cut-out, the flesh beneath it pink and shiny.

It tapered into a kind of thong that disappeared between her thighs, which were only armored on their exterior, everything made up of segmented plates to give her more flexibility. The gossamer skirt had been concealing more white, shimmering fur, two patches of it clinging to her upper thighs and ringing her waist like fluffy tassets. She still had her larger pair of wings, trailing behind her like a crystalline gown. They seemed to be part of her real body. Even without the flared skirt, she retained that feminine, hourglass figure. It was so perfectly sculpted, ensnaring his senses to the point that he almost felt manipulated, as though the Queen had tailored Holly’s genetics to display exaggerated fertility.

She slowly lowered her upper pair of hands, letting her breasts fall free. They were full and heavy, hanging from two more cut-outs in her carapace, large enough to perfectly fill Harry’s hand. Their teardrop shape was so familiar, but they were rosy in color, the shining skin devoid of any nipples or features. He was confused for a moment, wondering if they were functional at all, or merely flesh-filled pouches designed to mimic the shape and heft of a woman’s bosom to a tee.

He reached out a hand, Holly trembling as the tips of his fingers brushed her belly through the window in her rigid carapace, the muscle beneath her pink skin tensing. She had no navel, no visible abdominal muscles, it was just smooth and flat. It felt like he was touching a svelte woman’s midriff, the skin flawless, smooth like glass in a way that contrasted with the subtle imperfections that gave her carapace its texture.

Harry rested his hands about her hips, delving them deep into the patches of inviting fur. Just like the fine hairs on her collar and her wrists, it refracted light like little optical cables, shimmering as he ran his fingers through it. It was so soft, almost like smoke, Holly shifting and wriggling as he explored her.

“Do you like me?” she whispered, averting her eyes as though embarrassed by her nudity. “Am I like your females, or am I ... more alien?”

“You’re wonderful,” he replied, Holly’s antennae bobbing as though his words had shaken her. Perhaps she had been expecting criticism or apprehension on his part?

His fingers crawled back up her torso, Holly shivering again as they glanced her belly. That pink flesh was incredibly sensitive, almost raw, he’d have to be doubly gentle with her.

“You can tell me to stop any time you want,” he said, swallowing conspicuously as his hand neared her chest. “If I hurt you, or if you’re uncomfortable.”

“You have kept me safe all this time, Harry,” she replied softly. “Why would you hurt me now?”

She reached up with her lower pair of arms, taking his hand, her own so dainty in comparison that he could have completely enclosed one in his fist. She guided him higher, her lashes fluttering as she brought his hand to one of her breasts. His fingers sank into her pink flesh, Holly pressing him deeper, his digits vanishing almost up to the knuckle as her bosom filled his palm. The skin was smooth and flexible, the flesh contained therein reminding him of warm gel. It offered so little resistance, spilling between his fingers, pleasantly heavy as it molded around him like molten plastic.

Her legs began to shake, and this time, it wasn’t her labored breathing. Her painted lips parted, her body tensing as a throb of pleasure coursed through her, her eyes shut tightly.

“T-that feels so...” She trailed off, her thighs pressing together tightly as Harry kneaded gently, shaping her flesh like clay. Holly gripped his wrist desperately, holding him there, her head seeming to sway in time with his squeezing as though she were bobbing her head to a slow rhythm that only she could hear. She was in a trance, this brand new sensation overwhelming her.

“W-wait,” she mumbled as Harry pulled away, letting her boob bounce back to its original shape. It wobbled enticingly as it settled, its waxy surface reflecting the dim light from the lamp above. She peered up at him, imploring, stopping just short of forcing his hand back to her chest. “I-I like it, I want more...”

“We’re not stopping here,” he said, amused by the idea that she needed such reassurance.

“Harry,” she began, gripping his uniform again. “I feel ... electric, I am on fire. You are excited too, are you not? Your scent is so much stronger now, it is making me dizzy, I can taste you on the air.”

“Guess I’m puttin’ out more pheromones,” he replied with a shrug.

She pressed her shivering body against his, her breasts squashing up against his chest as she pushed her face into the nape of his neck. He felt her tongue flick out to drag across his skin, sampling his sweat as her antennae brushed his face. Holly sagged in his arms as though she had just taken a hit of some kind of narcotic, her legs almost giving out.

“My mind has become clouded,” she murmured, Harry struggling to pry her grasping hands off his uniform. She was clinging to him as though afraid that he might somehow escape her.

“Hang on,” he laughed, succeeding in freeing himself from her clutches. “I need to get undressed too.”

Holly took a couple of steps back on her dainty, two-toed feet, continuing her slow gyrating as she watched him begin to unzip his uniform. She fiddled with one of her antennae like a woman might fidget with a lock of her hair as she watched him shrug off the upper half of his jumpsuit, pulling off the tank top that he wore beneath it.

Harry was in good shape, his muscles were developed and defined. In his line of work, he couldn’t afford to let himself go, he never neglected his exercise routine when he was on shore leave. He felt Holly’s eyes play across his naked torso, drinking him in, and he wondered what she made of him. What features was she attracted to, if any? If her body seemed to have been tailor-made to entice humans, then maybe her cocktail of genes and hormones was mixed to facilitate that.

She drew closer, it was her turn to run her hands across his stomach now. She traced his abs with two of her three-fingered hands, sliding one into his navel, Harry stifling a laugh as she tickled him.

“What are you doin’?” he chuckled.

“I imagined you to be softer,” she replied, pressing a hand against one of his pectoral muscles. “You have no carapace to protect you. But you are ... hard. I like it...”

He pulled down the rest of his uniform, kicked off his boots, and stepped out of the legs. Holly’s eyes wandered down to the conspicuous bulge in his shorts, his erection tenting the fabric. He couldn’t believe how hard he was, it was like there was an iron rod in his underwear, he could see it throbbing in time with the rapid beating of his heart.

There was no reason to be shy now. He hooked his thumbs beneath the elastic waistband, pulling it down, his member bouncing free. Holly’s antennae sought it out, sliding down his torso, the soft hairs tickling him as she ran them across his belly. She caressed his member with them, her eyelids drooping, the stimulation making him swell. She wasn’t just touching him, mapping the strange organ, she was smelling him at the same time. Those soft, fine hairs were sensing his pheromones, catching tiny particles in the air.

“Y-your scent is so much s-stronger here,” she stammered, her legs finally giving out as she dropped to her knees on the carpet in front of him. She pressed her face into his crotch, two of her hands gripping his thighs, the others running across his loins. Harry had to make an effort not to buck into her, gasping as her fleshy fingers traced the contours of his shaft. She rubbed her smooth cheek against his belly as she gazed down at his erection with longing in her eyes, weighing it in her hands, scarcely able to get her slim fingers all the way around its girth. Before he could say a word, her jaws split open to expose the blue flesh within, her proboscis flicking out to taste him. She dragged it up his length, following a bulging vein, the flexible organ licking him like a tongue. He could see her thighs rubbing together, unsure of whether it was her labored breathing or the arousal that his musk must have inspired.

“I can feel your warmth,” she whispered, “so ... so rigid. W-why am I so drawn to this ... appendage? Why does your rushing blood entice me so?”

The tip of her questing proboscis slipped beneath his foreskin, a pang of pleasure making him see stars as she grazed his glans. Harry reached down and gently eased her away from him, Holly reluctant to relinquish the object of her newfound fascination. She peered up at him expectantly, his member bobbing not an inch from her face, her tongue sucking back up into her mouth like a strand of spaghetti.

“Let’s take things slow,” he said, reaching for her most convenient hand and guiding her back to her feet.

“I fear that I might ... collapse,” she said, leaning against him as he helped her over to the bed. “My legs have become weak.”

He sat her on the edge of the mattress, Holly closing her thighs tightly, the twin mounds of flesh that hung from her chest wobbling with her every movement. She seemed unable to sit still, squirming on the spot, her upper pair of hands fiddling with her antennae as the lower supported her weight.

“Just try to relax,” Harry advised, kneeling beside the bed. He reached up and delved his hands into the fluff on her hips, dragging her a little closer. She was so light, so easy to move around. Once she was close enough, he leaned in, planting a kiss on the exposed area of her belly. Holly shivered happily, loosing a muffled yelp as his lips met her smooth skin. He did it again, this time mouthing a little, teasing her with his tongue.

Holly’s fingers sank into his hair, the Bug seeming to enjoy its texture, taking handfuls as he planted another gentle kiss. She was so incredibly sensitive, he didn’t usually get this kind of reaction from a partner unless he was going down on them. Her skin was as flush as glass beneath his lips, warm to the touch. He could feel the muscles beneath it tensing, but they were ill-defined. Her muscle groups must be entirely alien.

He didn’t get too strong a reaction when he ran his hands down the armored exterior of her thighs, but as soon as his fingers brushed the exposed flesh on their interior, Holly tightened her grip on his hair. Her legs were shaking, Harry gently parting them, exposing more of her pink skin. Much like the carapace on her torso, there were strategically exposed segments of the underlying flesh. That they were centered around her erogenous zones seemed like a little more than a coincidence.

Despite her small stature, her thighs were as thick as any that he had seen on a human woman, stocky and robust. They flared outwards to follow the curve of her wide hips, round enough that they brushed together when she walked, but leaving a tantalizing gap now that her armor was no longer concealing her groin. He gave one of them a tentative squeeze, filling his hand with her supple fat, the muscle beneath tensing. It was the same material as her pseudo-breasts, flesh that was so malleable that it felt more like a firm gel, irresistibly squishy.