Aaron stumbled out of the cave like a drunk, half crawling, half running, his stomach empty from puking so much. His hands shook, his throat burned, and his legs felt like they weren't even his. Every muscle in his body screamed, but none of it mattered compared to the images stuck behind his eyes.
Her face. Her broken body. Her voice.
"Thank you," she had whispered in pieces while her cunt and ass poured everything out.
He bent over and dry-heaved again, nothing left but bile, spit dripping off his lip. His face felt hot, the mask melted into his skin pulsing faintly like a second heartbeat. Every time it throbbed, it was like Lustrix was reminding him—you did that, you used me, you'll use me again.
Up in the endless dark of space, a warship drifted silently. Vilgax's flagship.
Inside its core chamber, scanners caught the flare of an emergency broadcast. Not like the Lustrix—there was no HUD glow, no dirty whispers—this was systematic, mechanical, cold.
— DISTRESS SIGNAL —
— ORIGIN: Hunter-Class Unit 4A —
— LOCATION: Planet Designation Earth —
— MESSAGE: HELP ME —
The feed repeated over and over, clinical, stripped of identity, just a flare pointing downward toward the small blue planet.
Vilgax stood with his arms folded, eyes narrowing. Earth. The Omnitrix. And now a broken hunter calling from the same coordinates. His claw tapped against the railing, already calculating.
Aaron didn't know any of it. He only knew the trees, the smell of dirt, and the sound of his own footsteps crashing through the forest. He couldn't stay near the cave. Couldn't look back. He had to get away before he went insane.
Branches slapped his arms and face as he pushed forward until the woods broke open. His chest hitched when he saw light. Firelight.
He froze in the dark, his pulse hammering.
A campsite. A damn normal campsite.
An RV sat parked at the center, a small fire glowing in front. A girl with long red hair sat by the flames, legs crossed, poking at the fire with a stick. Her green eyes caught the light, glowing in the night, and when she smirked at something the boy beside her said something, Aaron's cock twitched before he even realized it.
The boy was sprawled in a lawn chair, his head tilted back, mashing buttons on a handheld game. The digital sounds of Sumo Slammers buzzed through the quiet air. He laughed to himself, chewing on a piece of jerky like he didn't have a care in the world.
And then there was the older man watching them both with that calm, tired face, sipping from a mug. He looked like the anchor of the whole camp.
Aaron crouched low behind a tree, staring. He couldn't tear his eyes away. Gwen leaned forward, her hair falling over her shoulder as she smirked again, and his stomach flipped. His cock stirred in his jeans, harder now, pressing against the fabric.
The mask pulsed faintly, like it was feeding off the thought.
Aaron squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his hand to his crotch, trying to calm it, but the images slammed into him again—the alien woman crying, screaming, broken—and his brain twisted it into Gwen's face, Gwen's voice. His breathing quickened, his nails digging into his thighs.
No. No. Don't. Stop.
But the Lustrix didn't care. His body was reacting on its own, and it felt filthy, terrifying.
He peeked out again, his heart slamming harder when Gwen smiled at Ben's dumb joke, lips curving, eyes flashing like she knew exactly how much power she had. His cock throbbed painfully.
"Fuck," he hissed under his breath, sliding back behind the tree. His whole body shook with the urge to step out, to take, to ruin. He bit his fist to stop the sound, salty sweat dripping down his face.
By the fire, Ben paused his game and squinted toward the trees. "Hey… did you hear that?"
Gwen looked up, raising a brow. "What? Don't tell me you're scared of the woods now."
Ben stood, frowning into the shadows. His eyes brushed right past Aaron's hiding spot, too quick to lock on, but enough to make Aaron's blood run cold.
"Probably just a raccoon," Max said calmly, though his gaze lingered on the dark longer than Ben's. "Sit down, kid."
Ben shrugged and flopped back into the chair, unpausing his game.
Aaron stumbled backward, deeper into the woods, snapping branches in his panic. He couldn't stop shaking. His cock was still hard, throbbing, his stomach sick with himself. He ran until the firelight was gone, until the laughter and the voices were nothing but ghosts behind him.
When he finally collapsed against a tree, gasping for air, his body was buzzing. Not with relief. Not with safety. With hunger.
High above, Vilgax's ship adjusted its course, locking onto Earth.
And in the woods below, Aaron sat trembling in the dark, cock straining against his jeans, the Lustrix whispering through the silence.