“I’ll find a way to cure you, to stop your body’s reaction to contact, but in return, you’ll work for me. You’ll contract as a new retriever for the EPED. You’ll stop working for that fat fuck and get some fucking dignity back.”
Hysterian had laughed at the time.
Raphael hated being called fat.
Unlike most Cyborgs who saw humans as inferior—especially human males—Hysterian saw them as useful. Their randomness and lack of calculation made them fun. Their ability to touch and hold everything—to feel everything—made him envious. And they were warm. Always warm.
He had always been this way, but it wasn’t until the war ended that it became an issue.
Perhaps being an interrogator and executioner for the military had something to do with it. They spliced his human DNA with an unusual creature for that very purpose.
The cybernetic doctors spliced him and then didn’t give him the ability to shift.
Raul had the right of it.
Hysterian was defective.
He rose to his feet and stretched. Though he couldn’t fully shift, he hadn’t lost all parts of his other half. The cybernetic doctors had given him some quirks that they thought could be useful.
Thank the devil they gave me my tongue. Hysterian rolled his eyes.
Self-pitying piece of shit. He strode to his lavatory and turned on his bathing unit. He may not have had an animal he could unleash when pent-up, but at least he could seek relief in other ways.
Microscopic pores opened up all over his skin, undetectable to the human eye, and his body slickened with oil. Toxins. Boiling water sprayed down upon him from overhead, hiding his secretion. The clear substance his body produced vanished with the water. He rested his arms on the wall and bowed his head. Hysterian stared at the water pooling at his feet being sucked into the drain. In another minute, the lavatory would be filled with steam, blinding him.
The ship’s recycling systems would never encounter his secretion either. By the time they made it to the ship’s normal water unit, the nanocells within his toxins would have destroyed it. He made sure of it when his ship was being redesigned. The water gathered in a separate tank to be scanned, and only released back into the ship’s normal systems when it was deemed pure.
His crew would never know their captain poisoned the water supply nightly…
Hysterian slid his right arm off the wall and grabbed his cock. It hardened in his hand.
Thank the fucking devils who created me for giving me a dick. Hysterian squeezed his shaft as hard as he could without crushing it. Pain zipped through him for an instant. He kept squeezing, praying for the release he really needed.
Boiling water would never be enough.
His hand would never be enough.
The phantom of a willing woman, one open to his desperate affection, took shape in his mind. A lithe creature he fantasized about every waking second of every day. A female who was immune to him. Not only immune, but one who also wanted him despite his past.
His hand slid up and down his length.
He’d never had a woman before. There wasn’t anyone alive who could survive long enough for him to take. Trentian women could, if he was willing to seek one out. But they were exceedingly rare due to the biowarfare his kind released, all but wiping their fertility out to the point that Trentian numbers sharply declined over the past several generations.
It’d been a terrible measure humans took to make sure the aliens would never rise up in the future and restart the war. They couldn’t if their numbers were low.
The Trentian females who remained lived on their home planet, protected by their God Xanteaus and his chosen Knights. A place no human was allowed to go near, especially a Cyborg.
Hysterian hadn’t encountered a purebred alien woman in over forty years, and when he had, his codes urged him to kill her.
Hysterian squeezed the tip of his shaft and rolled his palm.
The woman survived, of course. His urgings weren’t like some of his brethren, who couldn’t resist. Not to mention she’d been very old back then, having lived for over a century. An elder, a diplomat for her people, she had still been very beautiful. His lips twisted, remembering her. He hadn’t wanted to fuck something warm so desperately back then either…
He pictured the alien female’s face and thrust his dick into his hand.
A Trentian female was out of the question. Even if he sought one out—actually procured one—she’d be terrified of him, more so than any human female ever would be. Cyborgs had killed their kind by the thousands after all…
And what would stop him from killing her anyway on accident? Battling one’s own nature was hard, and would be much harder if he was fucking. Fucking the way he wanted to fuck.
Hysterian groaned and leaned his brow against the stall wall.
No, he needed a damned cure.
A devil-damned blocker.
The water began to cool, and his thrusting increased. His need ramped as the shadowy female in his head arched her back, stuck out her ass, and screamed for him.
Scream for me.
He was going to burst.
He gritted his teeth. His tongue shot out to lick the wall.
Hysterian reached down with his free hand and thrust into both of them at the same time.
Phantom lips pursed, a head flung back, and he fell to his knees gripping his cock. He released all over the wall, exhaling hard. The water turned frigid as he stared at his cum where it trickled. Thick yet slick, it didn’t take long for his seed to mix with the water below and vanish into the vents.
He reached up and turned the bathing unit off. He’d released enough of his toxins to breathe easier—for a time. With a modicum of ease, Hysterian rose and stepped out, letting the lavatory’s drying system suck out the humidity. Less than a minute later, he was dry except for his hair. It had fallen forward and tangled around his face.
He stared into the mirror, his eyes were bright teal but dimming. He watched through the white strands of his hair.
Picking up a comb, he brushed his hair back until it was straight and precise.
His appearance was something he could control. The day he stopped caring about it was a day everyone should fear.
He might not be able to shift, and he may not be as big or as vicious as other Cyborgs, but he was still a force of nature. With just a touch, he was deadlier than most.
Hysterian dressed and placed his gun back into his utility belt. He glanced at his empty bed once before heading for the door.
The first requisition was in a couple of days. The Questor was due to arrive at Luxor Port soon, a moon that circled Gliese and was a corporate mining base for EonMed. Many of their processing plants were there.
EonMed also ran drug trials on Luxor. One such trial had proven great results in curing G Fever, an infection brought on by exposure to a rare fungus that grew on ships with aging life support systems.
He was to pick up a case of the prized vaccines and bring them back to Earth. Vaccines worth millions, wanted by thousands.
The door zipped open as he neared and he came face-to-face with the last person he wanted to see.
A woman with fake black hair and bland brown eyes. Eyes he was certain he’d seen before but couldn’t place.
There were no direct matches for them in his memories.
“Dear,” he said, stilling.
She jerked back as if she wasn’t expecting him. “I’m sorry!”
His brow furrowed. She’s supposed to be on the lower level, in her quarters or the menagerie.