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& the Bees

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He didn't even get to explain the root.

Usagi-nee made a small, hurt noise around the ginger-creature he'd had the wherewithal to shove into her mouth. She'd never made any noise at all when she'd been broken into pieces—this new sound sent a bolt of shame straight down to his core.

He couldn't do anything about it. He wasn't even sure if, given the choice, if he'd known how this was going to go, he would have stayed safely hidden away. He loved his sister, but he was selfish. He wanted to see this world they lived in with his own eyes. Perhaps he should have been more cautious.

Not that he would have a chance to adjust his behavior. He was seized by the hair and dragged with a violence he couldn't hope to defend against. It wrenched him off balance and he cried out, scalp burning. It was so loud he thought it echoed in the cavernous cell—or maybe just in his own ears.

Usagi-nee wouldn't have cried out.

The cruel hand moved from the top of his head to a choking grip at his throat that cut off anything he would have said. He couldn't even apologize.

Outside their little prison the air was hot. It smelled sharp and fresh in a way he'd never experienced before, so overwhelming it left his eyes stinging. The unfortunate male he'd glimpsed through the latticed wall had been completely devoured by the swarm, two of the bigger bee-creatures sharing the remains of a thigh between them.

Mitsuki was forced flat in the recently vacated space. His captor was enormous. She stooped over him, drawing his arms up above his head with inexorable strength. She bit at his wrists, human teeth flashing in an insect's face.

He struggled against the restraint reflexively, a newly realized instinct that had him straining pointlessly against baring his vulnerable belly. With one hand her long, fleshy fingers throttled him into compliance while his wrists were secured to the floor with dull yellow wax. His ears rang.

Her grip let up enough for him to sob on a breath.

Usagi-nee was watching his useless thrashing. She was still limp on the floor from the sting's poison, her side grossly swollen. They were ignoring her—for now. She was mouthing something at him, voiceless. He imagined it was his name, cold and inflectionless. Usagi-nee was never angry, which somehow made it worse. He felt sick.

He had to look away when the talkative, one-armed survivor approached and began tearing at his clothes with delicately hooked fingers. She didn't bleed like he did. The place where her arm wasn't just ended at the shoulder, like it had always been that way.

He wasn't sure if Usagi-nee bled. Not like he did, anyway.

"So clever, hiding such a pretty male," she said.

She was pretty herself, antenna twitching hypnotically, her wings fanning out behind her. The smaller pair were hooked into the larger pair with a mechanism Mitsuki was itching to examine. He might have asked her to let him if he wasn't still being choked to death—if they weren't going to eat his sister.

Instead, he was the one examined. She leaned over him, antenna playing along his torso. They tickled, hard and warm on his chest and ribs, a match to the hive's stifling heat.

"Salty," she said. "Not enough fear. And you still smell like rotting corpse."

His sister's offerings had never smelled bad to him. Her sex pheromones were spicy and comforting. Maybe, contrary to his belief that they all shared an origin, he and his sister were incompatible with the bee-creatures. Maybe they'd just eat him.

She brushed her remaining arm over his collarbones, and the choking grip there was finally released.

His relief was traded for a different kind of pain, the wiry hair on her forearm scraping worse than her talons had when shredding his clothes. Her hand pressed over his heart. He was sure she could feel it beating straight through the cage of his bones. Her antenna touched at the corner of his eye and whatever she tasted there made her vibrate in satisfaction so strongly he could feel it through his sternum.

"So pretty," she said again, and pressed her mandibles to his lips, past them, into his mouth. His jaw was forced open and a thin tube pressed against his tongue. He swallowed against it to keep himself from choking when it forced itself deeper, but that just let it into his throat. He couldn’t tell how far into him it went, it felt like it would go all the way through him.

She rubbed her dainty fingers against the cartilage of his neck, the kinder touch almost comforting. A warm fullness grew in his belly, the thirst he hadn’t even realized he’d been suffering from gradually disappearing. She kept petting him like that until he recognized the little whimpering sounds he’d been hearing as coming from his own mouth and cut them off.

The bee-creature chuckled and withdrew, her tongue from his throat and her hand from his body.

He knew what a kiss was. He'd found a description, one of their books had held the story of an elaborate human courtship. When he'd told Usagi about it she'd demanded, in that intense way of hers, that he never kiss anyone. For some reason the memory was what finally made him realize he was crying.

Antenna fluttered against his cheeks. At his side the one-armed survivor slid her hand down his chest. She was almost humming in satisfaction. He couldn't stop shaking, himself.

"There we are," she said, "so good for us—perfect—perfect."

Abruptly, she was swatted aside.

In her place, above him, the dominant bee-creature loomed. Her legs were a mess of gore and semen, and between them was a strange, blunt protuberance that resolved itself into the dead drone's detached phallus. It was wide and hollow—he could see into it when she rose fully onto her skinny, six-jointed limbs. It speared her open so completely they were forced outward in an unnatural bow.

She wasn't much bigger than him, at least compared to her sister-creatures. Some of them had descended on the one-armed survivor, but most of them were looking on with interest. He remembered how they'd been rubbing themselves against the drone while the dominant female rode him.

Mitsuki quailed. He looked for Usagi-nee, but a writhing collage of black and gold blocked his view.

He tried to draw his legs up, to roll away.

It was another pointless effort. The queen mounted him, and it became clear that not much bigger was still bigger. Mitsuki was crushed to the floor, the power in her so complete it knocked the remaining air out of him. It hardly mattered that he wasn't compliant, the spread of her enveloped him from hip to hip in a pulsing heat. It throbbed around him, the beating of her heart through the encasing walls of the drone going straight to his center, and his arousal rose to meet her independent of any thought. It was like his body had disconnected from his brain. She rocked down with such careless force he thought his pelvis would break.

Two of her hands reached around to stroke and squeeze her own breasts, a third to grip his testicles punishingly. She threw her head back in ecstasy even as Mitsuki thrashed against the sudden overwhelming pain of having his intimate parts yanked on.

There was nothing for him to do. Everything he'd learned about her biology was useless against her indifferent strength. She rocked on him while he sobbed beneath her, helpless.


Mating really was horrible.