Erica Roberts, Interstellar Brides Processing Center, Earth

      It was like I was a sex goddess and they worshipped me.

      This was like the Hallelujah chorus and a porno combined with lots and lots of wine. I was relaxed and sweaty, and there were multiple hands and mouths and cocks. A mouth was sucking on my nipple. A cock was buried deep in my pussy, filling me just shy of too much. I had a cock fucking my ass.

      I realized the strange whimpering sound I heard was me.

      “Easy, mate,” the deep voice said. “We’ll give you what you need.”

      Oh good, because I needed to come. Really hard and right now. I’d never been this wound up, this… passion-filled. Aggressive. Desperate. Out of control.

      Oh my god. No wonder sex had only been good before. I’d been missing out… on an extra man.

      I couldn’t see him. Either of them. I didn’t care. It was a dream, I knew. A fabulous dream I never, ever wanted to wake up from. At least until they made me come. And they would.

      “More. Harder.” Was that my voice all breathy and forceful?

      When hands gripped my hips and a cock drove into me just as I’d requested, I cried out, the sound mixing with the slapping of flesh on flesh.

      “When you come, mate,” the voice belonged to the mate behind me, the other one was too busy claiming my mouth, shutting me up, swallowing my cries of pleasure. “Your pussy will milk the cum from his cock. It will mark you as his and fill you up so there’s no chance you aren’t bred.” Another nip to my shoulder and I gasped. “You will wake in the morning with our baby growing in your belly.”

      I—she—writhed. A baby?

      Did I want that? This woman did. God did she, the dirty talk was getting me—her—closer and closer to the brink. And yet, it wasn’t me. This wasn’t me. The woman was someone else, these mates, they belonged to her. They weren’t mine, but I was feeling their desire, sharing their pleasure. Knowing how good it would be with my own mates. It was as if I’d taken over their sexy times. As if it were an interactive porno.

      The hands on my hips tightened almost painfully as the pace of fucking intensified. My primary mate broke off the kiss to rumble in my ear. “Don’t worry, my balls are so full of cum for you. We’ll be at you all night if that’s what it takes. You want my baby, mate. The collars don’t lie. I’m going to fill you up with seed. You’re ours, mate. Come for us, take what you want, take it all.”

      I did, the orgasm so intense I couldn’t scream, couldn’t move, my muscles tense. Taut. The cock pistoned inside me as I did milk it, trying to take it impossibly deeper, to keep it inside me as if it belonged there. I needed his seed, his claim, his baby.

      I heard the growl of possessiveness as he came. I felt the heat of his cum as he filled me. It went on and on, as if his pleasure was as intense as mine.

      Behind me, my second mate came as well, filling my ass full of his seed, too, marking me just as thoroughly as his counterpart.

      I gasped, jerking as aftershocks ripped through me. I wanted more. More orgasms, more kisses. More. Just more.

      Instead, they faded, their touch as they kept fucking me becoming less intense. The heat was gone. Then the pressure. No more cocks filling me up. No more hands. I couldn’t hear them anymore and the link to them faded until I was alone in my head again.

      Alone. As usual.

      But now I knew what I was missing, and the lonely emptiness in my body hit me with ten times the normal cold because I’d been so hot just seconds ago.

      “No.” A meager protest, based on the dry whisper that managed to sneak its way out of my throat, but I had to protest. I wanted to go back. I wanted to be wanted like that. Needed. Lusted after. Loved.

      “Ms. Roberts, your testing is complete.”

      That voice. Damn it, I knew that voice, but I didn’t want to come back. I wanted to stay with my mates. “My mates.” I hated the choking pain I heard in my own voice, but I couldn’t stop the protest. No one had ever touched me like that, made me feel like I was his, no their, world.

      “All in good time, Ms. Roberts.” That matter-of-fact tone brought me fully back to reality, and I recognized the firm press of the testing chair beneath me. This place, it was like going to the dentist, a necessary evil. But this was no ordinary dentist’s chair. I was locked down, wrists, waist and ankles secured with padded buckles like I was some kind of dangerous criminal.

      But then, sometimes the women in this chair were criminals. Just not me. I was a volunteer. I had nothing left on this rock called Earth. After I’d caught my ex-fiancé sleeping with my roommate, I’d dumped his ass and taken the new job at the observatory on the big island of Hawaii, thinking the stars I loved so much would distract me from what a low-life loser I’d almost married.

      Instead, those small twinkling lights had called to me. I had been staring up at the stars for almost as long as I could remember, the obsession never leaving me, not even when I graduated after finishing my master’s and started my career in astronomy. Fifteen years ago, when I’d gotten my first telescope for my birthday, actually going out there hadn’t been an option. There was no space travel. No aliens. Nothing. We’d been alone in the universe.

      But now? Now we humans knew the truth. Earth was one of almost three hundred planets being protected by the Interstellar Coalition Fleet. Without the Coalition, Earth would fall prey to the Hive, a scary-as-fuck race of freakish biosynthetic cyborgs that consumed new races and new planets to feed their never-ending need to expand. Grow. Conquer.

      They reminded me of the Borg from Star Trek, but I kept that opinion to myself at the office. Hell, everywhere. Half of the people thought the whole thing was a hoax and conspiracy to convince humanity to send sacrificial lambs up into space for freakish alien breeding programs, or as expendable soldiers for nothing but suicide missions.

      I didn’t believe the conspiracy theory websites. Not just because my mother was a NASA engineer and knew more about what was going on than most, but because there were a handful of warriors who’d come home after serving their two years. I’d made a point of tracking them down, reading their interviews, visiting as many as I could, as many as would talk to me. I wanted to know about the other worlds. What sort of animals roamed these unknown planets? What type of plants and terrain would I see? What did the aliens who populated those worlds look like? What did they eat? What were their customs? I wanted to know everything.

      But all they ever talked about was war. PTSD on a massive scale. Whatever was out there, it was bad. Those who would talk to me—once I used my own university credentials to convince them I was not a fanatic or an all-around crazy person—talked of little but the battlefields, and the enemy.

      As terrifying as the Hive sounded, I wanted to know everything. But I wanted to know how the other Coalition races lived, not just how they died. War was war. It sucked. But what were all those alien warriors fighting to protect?

      Guess I’d find out, assuming the testing had worked. I sure as hell hoped it had. I was not small, which my ex had taken great pleasure in pointing out as often as possible. I was tall to start with, as tall as a lot of men, and yes—I was carrying a bit of extra weight. But I loved my body. The softness of my stomach, my extra-large breasts. Skinny girls didn’t get the goods, and I had them in spades. Boobs. Ass. Boom-baby. I didn’t want to go home, back to work, back to my normal life. I would never be the same again, not after this. Not after them. The two mates in the dream. They weren’t mine, but still. Wow.

      Now I was addicted, needed two men, two cocks. Dirty talk and four hands and hard, hot fucking. Lots