Mimic

That’s the proper word, I think-funny.

I’m still adjusting to it. Their language, their tongue. The way this wet mass of muscle moves against the soft palette, forming sounds. Sounds with no real meaning save those given. Subject to change, an audio morphology composed entirely of variables in flux.

So. I’m only half certain that’s the word. Funny. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. Even after spending time among them, I’m usure. If you take nothing else from this qualitative research, embrace that. Embrace the fact you’ll never really get them. There is no understanding. No certainties. Just the now, the precise moment of their existence. One wrapped in sensory information through organs that lie. Brains that can manipulate information to suit the individual on the fly.

Despite this, they surpass every other living being on the planet. They’ve killed sixty percent of all other life forms on Earth simply by existing in the same space. Without trying, without thinking, they committed genocide of countless species. They slaughter millions every year to consume. Their diets aren’t restricted in the least-don’t assume anything is safe.

They’ve done all of this without so much as a thought towards it.

So no. You will never “get” them. You’ll never understand them. Because they’re a “funny” lot that plays very, very “funny” games.

Especially with us.

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Just a routine assignment.

Drop. Deploy. Observe. Infiltrate. Return. Report.

Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary, especially for us. Our kind, we’ve done just this for countless eons. There’s been mistakes, absolutely. But two stars exploding out of thousands is a margin of error I’ll welcome. With a planet this stable, this aquatic? It was practically a vacation.

Another word of theirs-it roughly translates into “voluntary time off”. It’s perceived as some kind of reward for labor. You’re welcome to view the appendices for more information.

All the same-from what we knew, this blue-green orb had a swath of species. Mine was to be the humans, an assignment I took with glee. I think back to that moment-that eagerness to study.

I would like to say right now, I was categorically a fool. An idiot. A lithe gelatinous moron assuming much and knowing little. That ignorance, it almost cost me a landing. Descending into an oxygen rich atmosphere caused friction on my shield. It literally burst into flame. When that happened, the primary engine cut power to try and force the shields back on.

I was in free fall for almost sixty earth seconds. Descending thousands of measures every moment, every sensor screaming. I thought-waved the manual override into effect. The engines cut on, and sent me rushing over the surface instead of into it. Which would have saved me. Would have.

That’s how I learned the first rule of earth, of humans.

That’s why I’m leaving this message here, in the wreckage.

All those variables, all those contradictions of earth life? They point to one simple thing.

You can plan. You can think yourself clever, capable.

Yet even the smartest, the most clever, the best evolved can find themselves burning in garbage.

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Two rotations. Two spins of their planet is all I lost, but it was enough.

Consciousness came slowly, rippling across my plasma in a wave. My craft, what power it had left, fed me information byte by byte.

I had landed.

The damage was extensive.

Repairs would be nearly impossible.

The transponder beacon was working.

I shifted in my pod, wakefulness bringing yet more as I pulled forward. By the time I realized how long I’d been in that one spot, I’d already exited my pressure pod. I set to work, calculating a form that would suit the surroundings. The humans, they’ve this thing called “the internet”. It’s a vast resource of culture, information, customs and more.

They typically use it to complain and post pictures of domesticated animals. Vapid, but it was what our liqui-learn processors picked up first. I contemplated assuming the form of an animal-a “stray”, as they’re called. Then data shoved that idea aside in favor of one more daring.

Before you get to the rest, before this report leads to it’s pending scandal? I implore you to consider all you’ve read. I was on an alien world, with low-information on a recon venture. Help was several galaxies away, and that’s before we get to the bureaucracy required to send it. I made a decision based on information at hand and what was given before I departed.

Was it an intelligent choice?

If you’re reading this, you’ve likely your own judgements. Own ideas of how what I did was beyond the scope of pre-stated acceptable research. Fine. I care not for the debate that begs. I care not about all the possible outcomes our homeworld’s populace has placed. I will also state that regardless of what Council judgement lands upon me, I care not for it either. I accept it-inevitably, as we all do-but I care not for it.

All that mattered in that moment, as I shifted into a solid state, was surviving. Survival, as per our species concepts, ment deception. I assumed a shape appealing to human sensibilities, as we’ve done countless times across countless planets. The method has held true, and did. By the precepts of acceptable behavior, nothing I have done is beyond that scope.

Given all this, I would also like to state assuming that form brought me my second lesson of the species.

Our terrifying bipeds are so.

Damned.

Stupid.

If there is but one certain weakness of the species, it’s the concept of “trust”. They enjoy projecting social bonds upon one another. It’s not uncommon behavior-similar social engagements can be found all over the planet. Other solar systems, even. But the peculiarity of the species is this-they do it even with those not of their pack. Total strangers grow to accept one another based on aesthetic appeal alone. Perceived similarities-however faint-breed intimate understanding. The capacity for exploit by deception is high.

Thus, I assumed a form some would consider inappropriate. Even by human standards it was perhaps excessive. Yet I did this by design-I did this to succeed. The depth of my data can attest to this.

They trusted me-without pause, without doubt.

My research methods, however esoteric to those judging, were successful. The methods proved the hypothesis of that form, even if the result remains in flux.

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If humans trust naturally, then the deception exploited therein is no less natural. As such, securing my first subject-a “Regina”, see file B-1-was simply a step within an acceptable method.

Again, though I’m sure otherwise has been said, nothing I’ve done is beyond our scope or reach. While it may not sway Council members reading, I beg the homeworld to accept this fact. It’s no less true than our dual stars, our cycle lengths. Regina trusted my form because of a perceived social bond. By the time she was unconscious, there was nothing she would not have consented to.

I would like to state for the record I didn’t mate with her. Humans mate by fluid transfer, a method not unlike our own. However, theirs requires separate biological processes and steps. Even then, it’s not a absolute certainty offspring will result. Due to these variables, humans have evolved to feature nerve endings in their reproductive organs that register stimulation as pleasure.

Thus, humans mate frequently. Reproduction is often an afterthought-right along with species wide genocide. It is uncommon for sexual activity to be considered solely for the purpose of offspring. Regina desired to mate with me from personal desire, not impregnation.

As to why I reduced, repurposed and assumed her biological values, I’ve no excuse. My thoughts within that moment weren’t logical. Yet I will defend my actions, even before High Council.

I “stole” Regina’s mammalian glands-her “fun bags” as she called them-for a reason no longer valid. Simply put, they were nicer than mine. Swollen, but not to ungainly levels. She had massive areolas, which she loved to rub before me. As she straddled my hips on the forest floor, I began to see it. Rather, I thought I did.

That human thought process. That desire, that instinctual need to stimulate that has kept them alive.

I wanted to feel the warmth and desire she had as I rolled my tongue along her skin. The heft of her breasts, it contrasted the flat nature of my own. So, I followed protocol. If she was a superior being, I would take her attributes and make them my own.

It was survival, don’t you understand that? The pleasure, all that’s happened since, it was to keep me alive. Keep me safe. How in the thought-web of the entire homeworld could I have realized what would happen?

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Regina, she was my first. I’ll never forget her gift to my research. She provided a breadth of data which pushed me to seek more. Without her, the rest of this log likely wouldn’t exist.

Anything could have happened the moment I sucked her genetics into my own. Absolutely anything, but Regina chose to let it happen. She drooled as her eyes rolled back, her spine arching as she shuddered into an orgasm.

Her expiring was mere convenience. I absorbed the rest of her body, the remains no longer a concern. You all, I’m sure, remember the incident on Alpha Centauri. While I took no pleasure in consuming her, I did so to avoid absolute destruction.

She was the first, the catalyst for what was to come. But she, by far, was not the last. As I rose, feeling her being swell my own, I explored. I raised my hands as she did. I pinched, cupped and lifted as she did. My breasts billowed out of my hands-her massive nipples now my own. Just as sensitive, just as pink as they’d been upon her. I opened my form’s mouth, and lifted them to it.

In that moment, I understood why Regina had convulsed in ecstasy as she did. It felt beyond anything I’d experienced or fathomed. Even on Orgasia, with the species there being covered in erogenous zones. This-this was different. Beautiful and tantalizing as nerves sent synapses firing into my chest and mind.

It was then, suckling from my own teat, I decided to expand my data pool.

Beth came next. Larger than Regina, bragging that she was “all natural” and “enough woman” for “a girl” like “me”. Her breasts hang heavy against her stomach as she pulled her clothing away. In truth, she was plenty of data for an individual subject. Yet I needed more, even as my chest grew heavier with her contribution.

So I took Jenazebelle next.

Then Jasmine, Lori and others. Each time added to my weighty heft. Every data point made me even more attractive to potential targets. I ignored the males of the species for a time-then ruled to focus on the females exclusively. The males, they thought themselves clever. Superior in all the ways that made then idiotic, even to their own.

But the females-the females understood. They realized how sexual stimulation and aesthetics formed pillars of society. The bigger a bust or hips-the more social pull they held. Even as ignorant as humans were, even as lazy as they could be, the females proved they grasped true power.

Blending in grew difficult. So I stopped trying to when my breasts obscured my legs from view. Yet the women still came, intoxicated on their own lust as their eyes drank in my visage.

I lost count of how large my data pool is. And my feet. I’ve not seen them in weeks.

Yet even now, almost immobile by the sheer size of them? I can still lift them. I can still suckle my teats, more massive now than I ever could have foreseen. I do just that, here in the rubble of my craft, waiting for all of you.

I know you’ve heard the the revelations across the homeworld.

Perhaps even seen the pictures I sent.

I’d like to say, they’re all true. This research project, it isn’t forfeit-it never will be. Rather, I implore you to set aside judgement just as I’ve stated. Get in a craft, and fly to earth. Descend as I have, deceive as I have.

Experience the quiver across your plasm of the pleasures I have. Then dare to tell me a single thing I’ve done is wrong.

I’m about to leave my craft. I’m going to find another data point as I wait for all of you. Outcast me or join me, I’ll still send pictures of my progress. I’ll still send reports, just like this one.

You will all see just how swollen of a host I become.

Just how much pleasure earth can truly bring you.