Changed: Mated to the Alien Alpha (The Omega Colony, #1)

by Robin Moray

I mean, I am a xenobiologist after all. I’m not grossed out by weird carapaces or spines or too many legs. Creatures all over the galaxy are beautiful, in their way. But this guy? He’s objectively the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Period.

The scientist in me marks it down. The aliens achieve sexual climax in the same way that humans do, from pressure and friction, and expel generative fluid in the same way also. But the rest of me is just overwhelmed. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit, I just got off with an alien.

I made out with an alien. I don’t know what’s better, that he made me come or that I made him come. Talk about first contact.

He didn’t know about kissing. Does he know about blow jobs? Fuck, imagine teaching blow jobs to an alien species, that’s just wild.

“You liked it,” I say. He flinches but he doesn’t deny it. “Oh my God! You liked watching me get off with an alien!” “I’m not the one who made an alien sex vid!” he squeaks.

“Why would he bring you flowers and chocolate? Oh my God, is he wooing you?” I collapse back into the tent, and laugh and laugh. It’s adorable. I love it. An alien bringing me treats. “Oh, God, it’s so cute.”

Jeez, Cam, rub up against an alien once and you’re hooked? What’s wrong with me?

He picks up a piece with his fingers and puts it in his mouth. I watch him chew and swallow it with obvious relish. Then he picks up a piece and holds it out toward me. Ah! He is feeding me. This is courtship. And he has brought his friend as a witness to it. It all makes sense, suddenly, the cloth, the gifts of food, the clan-markers. He is offering me himself.

There’s me, my insides, my intestine and my liver and…”What the fuck is that?” I demand, because…what the fuck is it? It looks like—”Is that a fucking womb?”

“You should not have put that in your mouth,” he says. “I honestly wasn’t thinking straight at the time,” I tell him. “Am I going to get pregnant?” “What? No! You can’t get…you’re a fucking biologist, Grant, you know better than that.”

“Can’t you just try using a fucking condom?” “Oh, yeah, because I’m going to try explaining that to a seven foot tall alien. ‘Hey, Tal’jen, just let me put this on your dick for a sec.’” I try to imagine it, and I laugh so hard I end up hiccuping. “Or maybe,” Mike says loudly, “you could try not having sex with him? Maybe you could try that.”

Sex with an alien and now a surprise womb. Omega IV is shaping up to be officially the weirdest planet I’ve ever met.

Wow. Daniel is taking all this really well. I thought he’d be madder than this. “Cool. Let me know when you want to go.” “Great. Oh, and Cameron?” He blinks at me from behind his glasses, big-eyed and innocent-looking. “If you get yourself pregnant to an alien I’m going to make you carry that baby to term. For science. And for pissing me off. Okay? Good talk.” So. Pretty mad after all.

“You know, Daniel can’t actually make you have a baby. He’s just exaggerating. As your doctor, I’m responsible for making sure you have access to whatever treatment you need, for the outcome you want.” He pats me on the shoulder. “Then gimme some kind of IUD! Or something!” He gives me such a look. “Because I brought so many IUDs with me, on this all cis male dig. Anyway, I don’t even know if that would work,” he adds, tapping away at his datapad.

“It looks fine. You’re not injured or anything. It just…you know, it looks and frankly smells a lot like cervical mucus.” “What?” That’s…I don’t know how to feel about that. He seems surprised. “I mean, that would be a good thing. Cerv—” “Please don’t ever say the C and the M words to me ever again,” I say, “I am far too gay to be able to cope with those words in association with my ass.”

Mike leans back, looking sour. “Okay. So they think you’re ‘fertile’ and Leo’s ‘virile’. What the hell does that make me?” “Pre-pubescent,” I tell him, and the look on his face is too hilarious for words.

“Yeah, and earlier today everyone saw me get fingerbanged by an alien.” As soon as I’ve said it I regret it, but it’s too fucking late. I mean, I’ve already told my boss to rub one out, I’m probably already so fired.

“You’re not going to grow a womb,” I tell him, but he gives me a stubborn look. “You don’t know that! I always catch whatever’s going around, I’m very susceptible to things. So if ‘wombs’ are going around I’m probably going to catch one!”

I have officially moved in with my alien boyfriend. Okay. I can take this. It’s not too fast, it’s fine. Well, it’s a little fast. But then I wonder if it really is—we did just give out a sex show to like half his village. I think that’s probably a high level of commitment to a relationship.