Thread: The New Eden Project {darkest_fate&Google}

In many ways, the gala wouldn't look too different from the hundreds of others that Emma Watson had attended throughout her impressive career. Gathered men and women of wealth and privilege milled about and socialized with one another. Clothing with price tags that would feed small countries draped exquisite bodies, sometimes with roughly the same amount of money fueled into them. Nip, tuck, pull, paint, cut, whatever it took to remain as timelessly beautiful as possible. All the while they laughed and dealt, money exchanging hands and sometimes flowing faster than the champagne around them. Occasionally such events were in celebration of something truly worth celebrating. Many of the ones Miss Watson attended and championed backed worthwhile causes. Hunger, poverty, disease, all needed the attention of the wealthy to truly be tackled. And Miss Watson was so frequently at the forefront of all that, her smiling, girl-next-door, camera ready face eager to be attached to worthy causes. This gala should be in many ways just like those. Except this gala had their recent visitors. Emma took a sip from a long-fluted glass of champagne, her white fingers trembling slightly. Her eyes, a soft brown with just a hint of amber beginning to swim around the iris, swept the crowd. There, intermingled among the earth humans, were the visitors. The group had several labels attached, a handful of which were even tolerable in good company. Their appearance, to Emma's eyes at least, most closely matched the creature from the Black Lagoon than anything else. According to some of her more nerdy friends and companions, they were almost dead ringers for an alien race known as the Drell, which apparently were part of some sort of media or video game franchise. They did have a slight attraction in their quasi-humanoid faces, even if their dark eyes were often quite unsettling. Emma's eyes flitted over a small gathering of them, and she fought to suppress a tremble. Her tongue slid out to just wet her carefully made up lips, a slightly shaking hand going up to attend to her coiffed brown hair. The tremble did not merely come from the slight unnerving that came from being in the same room as an alien species. No, it came from something deeper than that. These benevolent visitors had offered their technologies for the use of the earthlings. They promised only aid, only to help the people of the planet. Within mere weeks they'd already went to work curing some of the more troubling diseases and dealing with poverty in the countries that would help. Their reach extended particularly in genetics, where they pushed for what was popularly known as Splicing. Human females were apparently close enough to the visitors to be able to cross breed, much in the same way a horse and a donkey could produce a mule. Therefore that sex could actually obtain some hints of the aliens genetic processes. This would have innumerable benefits the Spliced would be healthier, stronger, possibly even smarter. They could more readily understand the alien language, and there were hints of even more intriguing powers. Unfortunately, there were apparently... side effects. The women who had volunteered or volunteered for the procedure soon discovered that they would enter estrus at remarkably regular intervals. At least once a day, oftentimes as many as three or four times, a female would be overwhelmed by sexual urges, often needing to drop everything to tend to her needs. This issue grew all the more amplified in the presence of any visitor... particularly males, and even more particularly the most virile of the species. As an advocate for human rights, Emma had of course volunteered early. The benefits were quite tremendous and she'd been quite convinced that she could handle the so called side effects. Early on, she'd even dismissed them as being excuses for the humans to enjoy some exotic play. Now, however, she realized that the heat affected even her. Proper British upbringing fought against it fairly well, as did Emma's impressive mind. Usually she could simply take some suppression pills, or, if absolutely necessary, excuse herself to tend to her needs in private. Usually she wasn't dropped in the middle of an alien oriented gala at the request of meeting what amounted to the royal family. To Emma's embarrassment, she kept feeling the waves of heat or near-heat each time she passed near a visitor delegation. The last few times the visitors had most certainly known, giving her looks that were somewhere between encouraging and lecherous. Emma knew she needed to meet her host and excuse herself immediately. The prince, however, had been making Emma wait. Now she flushed simply looking at the aliens, and she kept fighting the urge to lick her lips or squeeze her thighs together. Fortunately, it appeared that a visitor servant had arrived. Emma felt another flush, but the servant soon escorted her through the crowd, hopefully heading straight for this Prince Jandrex, with Emma hoping she could hold it together through this crucial meeting.