Reverse Harem (Sci-Fi)

Chapter 3

Gayle saw nothing but the blurriness of five men in a half-baked state of unconsciousness. An infinite spectrum of white lights that burned and fizzled her skin into melted rubber. The feeling of being branded with a hot iron on the hide of a bull. And the embalmment of having new layers of an epidermis placed without her permission.

Then came the probing in her brain, similar to daggers that jabbed and fought for first blood. The invasion of her thoughts that were being stolen until drool would be the response that fell from both sides of her lips. And the stalking figures that lingered with no faces and names – and no entry into her log of remembrance; no matter how hard she searched for the clues in her dissociative personality state.

They whispered in an unfamiliar dialect. Yet, she understood one voice that told her to calm down! Calm down! It was the first time she could understand such an odd linguistic, but it stirred her spirits and she wanted to fight the voice that was closest to her side. She could not comprehend her flight of anger. But when her arms came back to an association, she made sure they would reach out for her safety.

Gayle felt her nails scrap against a dry and leathery substance. Until something tried to squeeze her fingers and gripped her wrists sternly - but Gayle fought back and squeezed against what her nails had managed to scratch. It was scrappy, but the more Gayle clasped caused a clearer fixation on the face of a … a human man!

“Get her off me! Get her off me, Joey!” Her hands were around his neck, and the focus zoomed in and out until she saw he wanted to break free from her grip! So, she squeezed tighter and her veins were close to bursting as she snarled wildly to finish the deed! “Grab her … Grab her from the back Derek!”

“No! No! Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!” But Gayle attempting to elbow Derek could not match three men all at once subduing her from the ankles; arms; and shoulders. They might as well have placed a straight-jacket and metal clamps - because soon her prison was the bed with her neck and wrists bound by male hands.

Charles choked and fell back from the action – while Joey and Marcus held down the kicking and screaming Gayle who eventually tired from her startled excitement. “You need to calm down Gayle!” Charles choked out a cough … two coughs … then stroked his Adam’s apple and massaged his neck until he could speak finely again. “If you don’t … if you don’t calm down … I’ll be forced to use the knock-out-rod” -

“You use anything on me and I’ll scream!” -

“She’s a lively one!” Derek was on his tenth attempt to keep her grounded to the bed.

Kirk had the wrists and contained his excitement at such a lively torrent from a woman. It was the first he’d seen such a display. “I never knew women had it in them!” 

Joey who had the ankles had to mind his face and protect his nose. Charles left the room to the surprise of Joey who needed some guidance here … “Are you going to calm down, Gayle?”

“Where the hell am I!?” The fight had blown its last fuse in her socket. She recollected her breathing … “tell me where I am? And what the hell am I doing on this bed? Last thing I knew … I was at home cooking.”

Joey winked at Marcus … For Gayle to remember that meant bits and pieces were returning to her cerebrum. “Yeah … I was cooking a halloumi burger and falafel.”

“Vegetarian?” Marcus tried to gage some conversation … not sure if a reply would come.

“Not for me. A friend.” The normality of her breathing came back. But still, she struggled to be still with the strangers pinning her down submissively. “Next thing … I’m here. On this bed. Lost in translation and unable to communicate my wishes to be set free.” She could see them all perfectly clear: twenty-twenty vision. It did not soothe her distrust -and only kicked her off again as she bellowed; “I want to go home!”

Charles rushed into the room: a little worse for wear with a knock-out-rod clasped and ready to use. Gayle fixated on the face she had awoken to the curly dark-blonde tresses that glamourized the firmness of his hawk-like gaze that wanted to show more kindness then harshness.

He didn’t want to use the rod. Gayle could tell. And the boys retreated from the grasp that had left imprints from the toughness of their hold. Gentler they became … and Gayle took this as a parting treaty to show the same level of understanding to them being attacked physically. She had done a number on them: they looked worn-out and that perfected her one thought: if I want to get out! I need to be more … accommodating to this strangeness.

As if Marcus and Derek could read minds, they met at the eyes and let go at the same time. Gayle remained still as they lingered to see if that remained the right decision. Then Joey, who had enjoyed seeing elements of a woman who had taken some sort of classes to defend herself did the same. And they backed off to the corners of the room, and Gayle lifted herself from the bed still inquisitive of Charles who approached the bed steadily. “I think … I think we’ve had a little bit of a misunderstanding Gayle. I don’t take to kindly to being strangled.”

“And I don’t take to kindly to being … whatever it is that’s going to be done to me.”

“Nothing is going to be done to you. If you act right, then all that will be done is us letting you be free to do whatever you please here.”

“Am I a prisoner?”

“Do you want to be?” Joey said this. And Charles had thought of asking the same thing. “We don’t want it to come to that. As our guest” -

“Ok. So I’m a guest who has no idea how she got here.”

“We can close that gap for you. But I need to know that you won’t strangle the life out of me again.”

“I can’t make any promises,” Gayle said that with all the courage she could muster from practically an empty bottle of courage. “How about you test my acceptance, Charles.”

Charles flickered and exchanged the rod in both hands. Gayle hurriedly gulped as he stepped forward … unsure of how long she could hold his gaze. They held the invisible string between them. Who would cut it first? A choice that had to be made. Charles embraced his bravery that Gayle had quietened. And Gayle … she chose to diminish one last act of vengeance –

Right against Charles cheek that nearly hit its target - but he squished the side of her palm before Gayle grimaced underneath the mask of trying to be brave. Strong. And unharmed by the strength of Charles who cared very little that she was a woman at that moment. “Have you gotten it all out of your system?”

His words were more intense than the face that struggled with his affirmative tone used. “Gayle freed her palm from his grasp … just like a wedding ring being removed from the correct finger. She pressed it to her chest: a baby to her breast. And held it tenderly as if Charles had caused the deepest wound and could never be healed again. “Yes.”

That was all she said. And Charles held the knock-out-rod backward for anybody to take … Joey was the one that claimed it. “So, where do we go from here?” Gayle’s eyes shifted from Marcus-to-Derek-to-Joey-to-Charles-to-Kirk- who had been the quietest throughout.  And landed back on Charles and stayed there. “What …” a nervous tension constrained her windpipe, but she released the passageway; “what … what … what happens next?”

Charles lessened his tenor for the sake of matching Gayle’s own. “We leave the room and let you have some time to yourself. There’s a bathroom back there where you can freshen up. And a change of clothes supplied by Zapra, who you’ll likely meet once we … well … when things are … improved.”

“Right.” And with the drop of her head, Gayle felt naked in her confidence … even with casual clothes on.

Charles took this as a que to leave. “Come on guys. Let’s leave Gayle alone.”

They all exited the room: one after the other. Charles was last and closed the door.

“You trust to leave her alone?” Kirk pressed his right ear against the door. Listening for any sign of movement –

Joey removed Kirk with a gentle shove against the tip of his shoulder; “she’s not going anywhere. I sealed the windows shut.”

“What about … any craziness?” Kirk wanted to bite the tip of his thumb to ease the tension and mend his own allure of the female s*x that often confronted his lust for those who could take control in the worst way. “A real firecracker that one.”

“You never fail to be turned on at the worst moments, Kirk.”

“Well Joey, some of us like fiery women” –

“You call that fiery?” Derek being the voice of clarity for Kirk’s disorientation seemed concerned, “I’ve never seen such a reaction. And Joey didn’t even get to finish the override. Right, Joey?”

“She seemed perfectly fine. I had a glance at the monitors to scan her brain activity and all checked out swell. There might be some fogginess in vision later, and a couple of blackouts due to the trauma of her sub-conscious mind undeveloped from the Earth to Lerus shift - but I’ll handle that later.”

“So, Gayle is ready to be here?”

“As ready as someone who’s woken from a coma and can’t remember what year it is. She’s recollecting her memory quickly. It’s impressive.”

“Her eyes are impressive. You could roast inside them if you stare long enough.”

“Kirk, we’ll need to give her some space.” Charles had to slow down his egg roll.

“Why are you creepily directing that mainly at me Charles?” -

“Because you’re the biggest hound-dog of us all.” Joey got that one in. And Kirk couldn’t argue with it. He was ready for Gayle. In regions that he knew shouldn’t be so ready to pounce. But stealing a glance at Marcus there could be no reason for it: Gayle was kicking into their overdrives.

…

Gayle frantically sat on the bed trying to find any gap; vent; loose tile in the ceiling; or a misplaced floor panel that could release her from the room. Hi-tech was the word. The machinery had instructions like the ones she’d find in a gym for correct usage. But in a different language.

Gayle pinched at her arms to see if her reality wasn’t a hallucination. A second to return to her dream and wake up in a single bed and life. But the frowns of displeasure at feeling each prick caused a demented curl snugger than a hedgehog ready to roll away into a putted hole.

What took Gayle out of her concealment was the sound of the door opening; that flickered her site back to a blur that returned when she made out Charles in the room. She raised her hand, but Charles took out the rod; “behave!”

“I’m not a dog. You don’t tell me what to do!”

“Ok. Ok. I’m sorry. I just don’t want to be slapped again.”

“Yeah well, I’m still adjusting to it all.” Gayle pulled the sheet higher to remain invisible below the chin.

“That’s fine.” Charles could sense the distrust in her. “Do you want me to leave the room”-

“No!” The reply surprised Gayle. But she ran with her instinct. “You aren’t going to hurt me?”

Apologetically Charles said; “no. Nobody is going to hurt you.”

“Fine. Then … can I please get something to eat and drink? I feel like I haven’t eaten in weeks.”

“Ye … yeah. Joey is an excellent cook and can rustle you up something. What do you enjoy eating?” -

“Anything.”

That remained politely direct, and Charles didn’t push for her taste in beverages.

“Ok.”

An uncomfortable silence sent both to the edge of their tolerance zones. A common attribute: both couldn’t hold the eye contact and they scaled the room awkwardly finding that they would often meet and clench their shoulders and chest inwards. “What’s … what’s your name?”

“Charles.”

“Ok. As you strangely know … I’m Gayle”-

“Yes. I’m … I’m going to make things right Gayle.”

“The last man who told me that turned out to be my future stalker.”

“Do I look like a stalker” –

“No. You look like you have something to hide.”

Maybe Charles did have something to hide? He had no idea what he would put right. But for the sake of connecting Gayle to this reality, she needed to hear that he would do something. Anything. He imagined the lost girl before him had a similar scent back on Earth.

Whatever cold chill came from her, was one he felt, long ago, back when … back when he had to decide. And in many ways, him being there with Gayle formed the same rocking of the boat that never sank but kept him partially afloat for the sake of morality. “You can trust me.”

“No. I can’t. But you leave me with no choice.”

Another nail to the moral oath of Charles hit-back: “a woman should be free to choose. And yet, in the fragments of his persona that held him accountable for lust, he had a sensation that all he wanted to do was take Gayle to the highest point of an unseen Ferris wheel and show her the beauty of Lerus and why they had to do what they did.

But if she could not see the beauty, then how he could spare the magnificence of accepting her into there harem. As the leader, he knew it would take the charm of them all. Although Gayle, protecting herself as if he was about to cut the last precious strand of hair she had- would need to be schooled.

And that was never an easy thing to do. In the back of his mind, Charles felt a speaking tingle of; “if you only knew … how badly we’re going to need you. In time you’ll have no choice but to see.”