Toy

He awoke to voices. Well, what he would have assumed were voices, anyway. To him they were simply guttural sputtering, interspersed with strange clicking and…purring? Surely these creatures didn’t purr. There wasn’t any way in any version of hell they would purr. Swallowing back the surge of bile that crept into the back of his throat, his eyes closed. His body still stung from whatever net the big one had used to keep him from running. A note of chagrin filled his thoughts. They were all big. So the term was rendered somewhat useless.

He in actuality, a field medic, deployed on an exploratory mission in an adjacent galaxy to earth. The planet had been mostly earth like, though, it appeared to be of uniform climate throughout. The ship had landed with no problem. The planet was partially covered in ocean, which was where most of its larger life forms took up residence.

Other than that, it had seemed to lack large land predators. Pr so they had wrongly assumed. The planet was lush enough, and temperate. It had been mostly coniferous forests, and was mildly cooler. Vaguely close to the climate found in the northwestern coasts of some of the area back on earth, only much vaster. “This was probably why these creatures had chosen that particular planet for their hunting grounds” his thoughts echoed dryly.
-----

Elsewhere on the ship, the Yautja, J’Dath watched another of his kind through narrowed eyes. The look in them, had he been something with softer features, or another species, would have been described as tired frustration. However, because of the nature of Yautja facial structure, they simply looked angry. He let out a hiss of breath, mandibles flexing lightly, citrine gaze following the slow swagger of the immense female in front of him.

Even for their kind, she was by all counts, massive. She had curves, something not common to their kind, at least not like this. But it was equaled out in a formidable expanse of muscle. She was nearly ten and a half feet tall, another thing that, when paired with her crimson skin decorated throughout with black and pale vermilion rosettes, made her substantial among them.
Under normal circumstances, she’d have been on one of their colonized planets, with the other women of their kind, keeping records of birth lineages and as well, information pertaining to their prey species.

She had a knack for their written language, in both writing it physically, and in programming it into the ornately complicated computer databases the Yautja favored over written documentation. She also had a knack for pretty much any language put in front of her. The fervor with which she read and logged the information gleaned from within was nearly uncanny. Which was why when they needed translations done, she came along for the ride. Being bond mated to a male with much power did not hurt her cause either. Though no one would have said no, because she was a female, none the less the status of her mate helped her cause.

However, Rhooke was a sadist. This was an even greater deviation in Yautja culture than in comparison to that of humans. Her idea of fair payment for abstracting information from useful prey specimens was well, J’Dath thought, to himself perverted. She had very little concept of honor and respect. Which again, spoke volumes, among their kind, but though she walked that ever thin line between a bad blood and dark tastes, she never crossed it far enough anyone could speak out openly against her and not half the protests fall on deaf ears. She stopped, and looked at him, one clawed hand resting on her mesh covered hip.

“So, tell me again. You brought me the ooman because?” Her hissed inquiry filled the room, and there was an undertone containing the softest thrum of a growl.

“Because he – it was not deemed good enough to be prey, and there may be other uses for him when we get home” J’Dath responded. He was not entirely sure if it was male, but he assumed, from having hunted enough humans, that they held some of the same sexual dimorphic characteristics as his own kind, as much as the word same could be applied, he mused to himself.

And if it was a female well, then they’d erred badly. But on the other hand, given what the human’s fate was to be, being a hunting trophy was by all means, in J’Dath’s mind, a preferable end.

“So why not…do what is normally done in such circumstances” Rhooke clamped her mandibles shut in thought, the upper and lower tusks clicking together methodically. Generally, she wasn’t permitted to indulge her whims on the projects they gave her.

Supposedly, according to a Yautja healer, human minds were exceptionally fragile, and once you broke one in such a way, they were more than useless, and had to be culled, and that became tedious, since there were times when the knowledge prey possessed was of value.

Wastefulness did not become Yautja culture, no matter how primal their way of life was. So she was intrigued. And wanted to make sure there wasn’t something overtly political in the gifting of the human.

“Because I am not the one in charge” Not one to disobey orders, J’Dath none the less did grow weary of the constant questions, regardless of the source of them. Truthfully he didn’t know. Their current leader had simply said to save the useless one for Rhooke’s ministration, until they were home.

Most of the others with any idea of what that meant had cringed with something that almost bordered on sympathy for the wide eyed, sallow skinned pink thing. J’Dath didn’t blame them.

“I see” She flared her mandibles again, but other than that, her voice held no emotion. Her intensely orange eye flicked down, meeting his gaze, as she jutted her head toward the doorway. “Take me to it, then”

He half bowed to her and led the way, footsteps sounding down the metal corridor.

-------

They were coming back. He’d heard some word referencing their kind. Yautja, though the recollection of something so trivial at a time like this somewhat disturbed him. He chocked it up to shock. They were frightening enough with the masks on, which was owed almost entirely to their sheer size and barbarous efficiency with which they hunted. Without the masks, they were well, terrifying.

The word Lovecraftian came to mind, but even that didn’t quite fit. There was something too graceful about them for that to be the best metaphor. And finding any metaphor was proving a challenge. He’d heard rumors, before. From the other soldiers in his unit, and thought of them as well, rumors to scare the new guy. So they could tell him rookie ghost stories in the hopes of setting him on edge.

The details were all fuzzy now, and well, given that everyone but him had been laid out as offerings for whatever carrion creatures might have been making their home in that lush forest, it didn’t matter much either. Blinking, he was driven from his reverie, by the heavy thud of footsteps. Straining, he filtered it out to be two sets.

More of those things couldn’t bode well. Though again, why he was still alive was probably the biggest itch in the back of his mind, even before the why and how of the rather one sided fight that had taken place in the span of a few heart beats.

His eyes fell on the pair as they entered through the set of sliding doors, heralded with a smooth electronic whoosh. He recognized the one with green and brown dappled hide. That was the one that had bound him, gagged him; drug him off like nothing so much as flimsy luggage. The other though, he didn’t remember, out of the four that had attacked him and his peers. His eyes traveled up its form, taking in the armored expanse of red and black massiveness.

They both had their strange masks in place, and for the moment, seemed to be ignoring him. Speaking in guttural clicks, thickly fingered, clawed hands moving in a way that reminded him of the times he’d seen people barter over goods and services at the many bazaars and flea markets back home.

The totality of what his fate made his stomach sink. Hazel eyes flicked to the red Yautja again, and fell on the subtle arch of the armor on its chest. Her chest, he thought, blinking to make sure he wasn’t utterly mistaken. No, the way those muscles were offset with sinuous curves was not something one could mistake. Even when working around a species boundary. He swallowed; shifting, which caused his bound hands to thud against the metal wall behind him. They stopped talking, and turned their focus to him.

----

Rhooke closed the space between her and the human. Dropping to one knee, she unlatched her mask, the connections popping loose with an airy hiss. Making sure her face was only inches from the human’s, she flared her mandibles, screeching, the red flare of the stretched folds of skin flexing outward, inner mouth snarling ferally. The human jumped, and she could hear his heart thunder with in him, the essence and smell of fear candy on her senses. She never got tired of that reaction. A rumbling noise followed as she rose again, turning to J’Dath.

“This will be fun…” Rhooke laughed softly, setting her mask aside.

“Yes. Well. You know the rules. He has to be able to live through your
ministrations with minimal aid from the healers.” J'Dath reminded her.

“Why not just lock him up until you’re home, then, if you’re so damn worried about me breaking him.” Rhooke mused sardonically.

“Because Var’ent said he was partially a…” J’Dath winced, not all that pleased with his superior’s explanation.

“Partially what?“ Rhooke snarled.

“That the ooman was a gift to you” J’Dath muttered, mandibles clicking with irritation.

“Oh, how thoughtful of him” She trilled, face pulling into a grim smile.

“Which makes little sense considering that you are well past breeding age” J’Dath said, and then blanched, immediately wishing he hadn’t.

“I bore Var’ent three fine sons and one daughter. Not that it matters to you.” Rhooke snarled.

“Well you have my only answer, and frankly I am not one inclined to watch” He snapped back, growling. Finally, he turned and paced towards the door.

Swallowing, the human let a slow breath out. Rhooke snorted, watching him, the redness of her maw gaping in and out. Behind them, the doors whooshed open and shut once more, leaving them alone.

----

Purring, Rhooke carefully took inventory of what she could and could not get away with, this time. It had been ages since her bond mate had given her a present, especially one that was alive. It was not their nature to show affection openly, but Var’ent made attempts now and then.

But, rules were rules, if this one had a fate outside of Rhooke’s own dark sense of entertainment, she would exercise restraint. Any subtle uses of the modified combi stick were out; it would shatter his nervous system, even when used gingerly. However, her smaller set of customized wrist blades, and the rest of her unique trinkets that she’d crafted in her spare time would work rather well.

Now the difficult part in all of this was of course, communication. Hand gestures simply would not work for something as delicate as all this. Luckily, she had taken the time to learn whatever the current common speech of the humans was, and could manage a decent rendition of it, even without possessing one of their ugly, pudgy, boring mouths.

“So little ooman, are healer among your kind, yes?” She leered at him, snarling.
He gaped at her, jaw dropping.

“Answer” Rhooke knelt, wrapping a hand around his neck and pulling him upwards , his weight meaningless to her

“Yes. Yes I’m an h-healer” He stammered, willing himself to not scream.

“Mmm. Is why you still breathe. And not hanging in trophy hall on far side of ship” Her head cocked to the side.

“I…I don’t know, please just….” He whimpered, shaking, hands writhing behind him.

Rhooke tightened her grip. “No struggling. Struggling makes Yautja want to do things, and is not want us to do those things anymore, I do not think. Name is what?”

Vincent licked his lips, attempting to drag another breath in, which was hard with how tight her grip was, the points of her thick claws pressing divots into the skin of his neck

“Vincent” he squeaked.

“Vincennnnt” She breathed, trilling. Rhooke smiled again, and it was not her monstrous visage that made Vince realize it was not at friendly one.

She dropped him, again, and due to the fact he had been held level with her gaze, there were a good few feet to fall before his legs connected with the ground. He stumbled, attempting to get his footing as pain jolted through where he impacted with the harsh metal of the floor.

Her clawed foot struck him in the stomach and he doubled over in a spasm of curses “Fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

“Oho, Vincent ooman” Her coppery gaze lit up at that word. “You are bold. Rhooke will fuck you. But senses you will not like it.”

She swung her talon tipped foot again, impacting his groin this time. Hazel eyes turned up toward her, and there was nothing but pure unaltered rage in them.

The scent of fear was quickly erased with the scent of hate, and had Rhooke been in season, she would have been putty. But she wasn’t. So she merely drank it down through all of her senses and used it to fuel far darker things than the implication to mate.