Satisfied with itself, Zim's PAK booted back up, kickstarting his metabolism and flooding his system with what Dib would call "freaky alien hormones." Zim stirred, a soreness in his nether regions painfully apparent in his hazy state. He struggled to recall what exactly had led his PAK to forcefully shut off, as it was an uncommon thing only required when an Irken was completely, wholly exhausted.
He was alone in his bedroom, the sheets and blankets rumpled and haphazardly scattered around the room. There was one on him, though, and the cool fabric felt nice on his warm skin.
There didn't seem to be anything that important to remember, as far as Zim could tell. But why was he so sore? That couldn't have happened from nothing, surely. It wasn't painful, per se, just uncomfortable enough to put him on edge.
And then there was also a...wetness?
Zim reached gently under the sheets to examine the slick that coated his inner thighs. The room was incredibly dark, so much so that even his eyes struggled to focus on anything. He swiped the skin there, grimacing with a pain that flared up upon receiving his touch.
"What is that?" Zim wondered to himself, curious why he was in so much pain and beginning to worry, with the added notion that he wasn't able to remember anything. He withdrew his hand from the silken sheets and examined the substance that coated his fingers. Everything rushed back in a blur, quick and nearly overwhelming.
The blanket sprawled across the floor, thrown as a result of Zim's anger regarding his current situation. He couldn't go into heat on this filthy planet! There were no tallers worthy of ZIM!
It wasn't possible. He couldn't possibly convince himself that taking a mate on this planet was okay. It was awful. It was a terrible thing, and more importantly, would be an action of treason against the Irken Empire.
His Tallest would be so upset with him. Surely they'd come here themselves and destroy the planet with Zim on it if they found out.
Feeling his body quiver with need only upset Zim more, and he cursed the heat that overcame him every seven years. He hated it, hated it more than anything. He would rather be Skoodge, short and disrespected, at this very moment instead of be feeling what he was.
The heat grew quickly over the next few hours, and Zim couldn't take it any longer. He wrapped himself in a sheet and descended into the depths of his base.
As hot as his spooch felt, he also felt ashamed in his current position. Though he usually took suppressants and escaped this hell every cycle, he hadn't taken them this time, figuring he was much too far from home for it to take effect.
He couldn't have been more wrong, and now he wished more than ever that he would have taken them. He felt vulnerable, exposed, alone.
He wasn't sure how long the heat would last, considering he had never experienced one in its entirety. He was an invader, after all. He had no time for such trivial matters.
That didn't matter now, he thought to himself.
"Computer, plan a station-wide outage."
The AI coughed, as if it had been surprised by Zim's request, before lazily asking "Why?"
Zim, his PAK losing control over the hormones surging throughout his system, lashed out at the voice with a fury.
"Just do it! And don't come back until I turn you back on myself!" he screeched, his anger overcoming his rationale.
"Alright, alright, you don't have to yell." it replied, before falling silent and with it, shutting off the machinery across the laboratory.
Zim threw the sheet covering him on the floor, it being the only act of resistance he had left. His body felt so, so hot and he just wanted to lie on his cool sheets for a while.
He retreated to his bedroom, the door swooshing open and closing swiftly behind him.
Zim laid on the purple sheets, which were as crisp as the day his computer had lain them out. They weren't often used, as Zim simply rested throughout the day and let his PAK clear out the waste in his bloodstream.
He laid there for a while, unsure of how much time he would spend there.
His eyes, finally beginning to adjust to the poor lighting, were able to see their immediate surroundings and Zim's body. He slid the blanket off of his thighs slowly, letting it reveal his bare form and fall to the floor in a heap. Shock registered, felt much too quickly for Zim's PAK to counteract and dampen.
His thighs were clad with dark green bruises, littering his once-perfect skin from his inner thigs to his shins. He realized the pain he had felt just a moment ago was one of the bruises, placed dangerously close to his intimates, which were tucked carefully away as of now.
Zim wasn't sure why they hadn't healed during his mandated sleep cycle. The purpose of the PAK was to heal his wounds quickly, a feature that had proved to be helpful on the intergalactic battlefield. It always worked, unless...
Heat.
That's why it wasn't working. His cycle, producing powerful hormones that overcame virtually any resistance, would render his PAK mostly useless for the time being. This was, of course, with the exception that it would continue its life-continuing processes and keep Zim healthy for the most part.
He still didn't know where the bruises had come from, despite the memories of a few days ago until yesterday becoming clear. It worried him that he couldn't remember. He willed himself to, willed his PAK to recall previous events.
He brought his fingers, coated in some substance, closer to his face in the darkness. He suddenly caught its scent.
Zim's legs trembled with the painful but so, so pleasurable angle, feeling Dib's hands work bruises into his pliant thighs. He whimpered sweet moans into the fabric of the mattress, feeling the human's length line up with his slick and needy hole. His hands pushed Zim farther into the sheets, arching his back further and muffling his cries.
He gasped aloud with the recollection, disbelieving of it. That couldn't be right. Dib was his enemy, not his lover. He wanted to see Zim on an autopsy table, not crying out in pleasure on his bed.
More importantly, Zim wouldn't do such a thing, would he? It was the highest act of treason and of resistance to the empire. Zim lived for the empire and its rulers, and did everything he possibly could to carry out their visions.
So why was he remembering this? Why did he remember it so vividly ?
Dib hisses through his teeth, giving Zim's hips a firm squeeze. He trembles beneath the human's form, overwhelemed with the pleasure that was much stronger than he expected, whimpering louder into the sheets and squeezing tightly around his length. Dib's weight is on him in an instant, arching his back both too far and not far enough. He leans his hands onto Zim's shoulders, preventing any means of escape, though he wasn't inclined to try. His hips push farther into Zim's, desperately filling him up with his length as far as he could take.
Zim swallows nervously, the lump in his throat making it hard to do so. It was true, there was no denying it. The fingertip and hand shaped bruises covering his legs matched what he remembered. But then, where was Dib? Perhaps this was all a ploy to finally beat him, to finally rid Earth of its soon-to-be destructor. Zim was anxious, more than he liked to admit. He needed to find the Dib before he found Zim, and did whatever terrible things humans did to small aliens.
He stood, looking for something to cover his form with. He didn't see much, except for a few blankets and a thin sheet. His eyes, now well-adjusted to the dark, caught sight of a shirt, halfway under the bed. Zim lifted it, satisfied with the find, and noticed it was inside out and had several holes in the center of it. They looked to be about the size of his own claws, ungloved and razor sharp. He turned it right side out, slightly smiling at how human the action was.
Irkens did not do such things. Their clothes were engineered to be worn easily, with no notion of forwards, backwards, or inside out. They simply melded to the body they were placed on. This shirt didn't do any such thing, and was large on Zim's small frame. It's excess did not shrink to fit him, and instead hung lamely, as if gravity were trying to take it away.
Zim stepped into the hallway, which had significantly more light than the bedroom. The blanket was still halfway around the corner into the hallway, right where he had thrown it upon descending into his lab. The statue stood, intact, in the hallway, as did each picture on the walls.
Zim wouldn't admit it, but he secretly loved them. The paintings had been expensive, given the lack of artists either on Irk or who were given clearance to be, but they were his favorites. The Irken landscape might appear uninhabitable anf foreign to other species, but it was where Zim truly felt at home.
He looked at the pictures on the left, and was surprised to see a form examining one of them. Zim gasped in surprise, before realizing it was the Dib-thing.
The human looked over at Zim, a smile gracing his features.
"Hey. You're awake. I left the room since I didn't want to wake you up."
Zim couldn't find much of anything to say. Dib's smile faded, a concerned expression replacing it.
"Are you okay?" he was definitely worried, slowly approaching Zim.
"Yes," Zim replied, monotone, not wanting to cause distress in the human.
"Are you going to take me apart?" he asked after a moment, nearly convinced this was the human's plan to win their long rivalry.
Dib started, his hand reaching out to touch Zim's shoulder gently.
"No! No, no, no. Not at all. I don't want to do that." Dib said quietly, trying to appease Zim's fears.
"Then...why are you here? Why are you in Zim's base?"
Zim was confused. Why did he stay?
"I, uh, I wasn't sure how to get out. And, uh, also, I kinda wanted to stay." Dib said, his eyes glancing back at the picture. Zim knew the first part of that explanation was a lie, seeing how Dib had been in his lab many times.
"I thought you wanted to get rid of Zim."
Dib took a deep breath and sighed.
"I know. I know. It does look like that. I just, um, I've had a change of heart."
Zim's face wrinkled in confusion.
"You changed your heart? Who's is it now? Tell me!" Zim demanded, thinking that parts of his spooch had been stolen. Dib laughed hard, tears pricking his eyes.
"Oh my god, Zim, I didn't actually change it. I just meant that, uh, I feel...differently, now."
Zim flushed, feeling his skin tint blue. He still hadn't accustomed entirely to human notions and human life.
"You feel differently? About Zim?" Zim flushed further, not entirely understanding what Dib was trying to say.
Dib's face turned a shade of red reserved for admitting embarrassing and deeply personal things.
"After last night, Zim, I... I feel like I don't hate you? Like, like, like maybe I like you a little?" he stammered, struggling to say what he wanted.
Zim began to realize this slowly, but wasn't entirely sure, as his understanding of human affection and "friendship" was incredibly limited.
"Of course you like me. Everyone likes the almighty ZIM!" he shrieked, his characteristic narcissism apparent with the temporary subsidement of his heat.
Dib cracked a smile again.
"I mean, I like you Zim. I liked last night... a lot. I liked it a lot." he told the small alien, feeling more confident in himself, though still apprehensive.
Zim had remembered the events of the previous night in their entirety by now, and he was embarrassed at how vividly he did. He liked feeling Dib touch him, kiss him, put his thick-
"You good?" Dib asked, jarring Zim from his daydream.
"Zim is fine!" he shrieked, unwilling to admit the thought that just went through his mind.
"Uh, hey Zim?" Dib pressed, trying not to upset him. Zim glanced at him, open and willing to listen for once.
"What are we?" he asked, hesitantly. The question stopped Zim in his tracks.
"Z...Zim is not sure, Dib-thing. Zim is in heat, and you should not have come here."
Dib took another breath, exasperated and somewhat guilty.
"I..I know, Zim. I know. I'm not sure what came over me last night. I...I wanted to help you so bad." he nearly growled, justifying his reason for staying.
Zim's frame shuddered with the tone, his nether regions warming with the memory of that specific voice.
"I guess what I'm trying to say, Zim, is that I want...I want to do it again." Dib finally admitted, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red.
Zim was floored. This, this human, wanted to be Zim's mate. it wasn't permissible for Zim in the slightest.
"No, Dib-human. Zim...Zim cannot," he replied, explaining further, "It is the highest treason for my kind, Dib-thing."
He was almost disappointed at how Dib's face fell, but Dib blurted something else before Zim could try to apologize.
"Is that what you think, or is that what your leaders think?" Dib asked, louder than his previous questions.
Zim stuttered, looking for an answer. He tried to justify wanting to please his leaders, wanted to explain he played a huge part in Operation Impending Doom II.
"When's the last time they called you, Zim? Or sent you supplies?" Dib pressed, knowing this probably wasn't a good path to go down, but wanting to try his luck with Zim.
"They...they are busy," Zim tried to argue, but the realization was quickly becoming apparent. He felt his spooch drop to the floor, metaphorically of course, and tingling with a strange sensation.
Zim itched his side, trying to alleviate the new feeling.
What is that? he thought to himself, unfamiliar and unable to pinpoint what it was.
Dib took notice, asking Zim "Are you itchy? It might be that blanket."
Zim stopped scratching, noticing the feeling was coming from much deeper.
"No, Dib-thing, there's just this feeling. It's annoying!" Zim wiggled around in the blanket, upset by the sensation. He didn't like it. He disliked it even more considering he didn't know what it was.
He accessed his PAK, flicking through memories of last night, the last week, the last month, etc etc. Zim willed it to run a diagnostic, something he would normally use on the battlefield, but an increasingly important tool now.
He expected it to come back with something simple that hadn't resolved just yet, some kind of irritation or swelling or whatever else.
Dib looked at the Irken, his eyes glazed over as if he were deep in thought or focusing intently on one of his experiments.
Zim stared back at Dib, speechless and horrified with the results of his physical diagnostic. He didn't say anything to Dib, instead saying "Broadcast results."
Dib was confused. What results? He didn't know anything.
It was Zim's PAK that spoke, clearing up most of Dib's confusion, though it only amplified with what it said.
"Smeet develpment detected."