Alien Bride, page 1
part #2 of The Alien Series
Alien Bride
By Tracy Lauren
© 2018 Tracy Lauren
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Epilogue Part One
Epilogue Part Two
Chapter 1
Alessandra
A few weeks back I went to bed, alone in my apartment, and I woke up in hell. Well, technically I woke up in outer space… but as far as I can tell, it seems to be the same thing.
I vaguely remember coming to. It was a painful and disorienting experience. Some medically minded aliens were there. They strapped me to a table, pumped me full of shots, and jammed some type of translation device into my skull. Later it was explained to me that they had vaccinated and deloused me. I tried to express just how deeply I appreciated their efforts but got struck with an electrified prod in the process. Needless to say, I learned pretty early on to not attack my alien captors.
It’s all been downhill from there. The aliens took my clothes and left me naked in a glass cell. There were other women there, too, though none of them human. They occupied the cells next to mine, but even though we all had translator implants, we couldn’t speak through the thick, soundproof walls. Early on we tried pantomime in an attempt to communicate, but there was likely a cultural barrier working against us, because we couldn’t make sense of each other’s gestures.
Eventually we resorted to sharing knowing looks. Like when a green light flashed overhead and a food brick was dropped into each of our cells, we would look at each other and scrunch up our faces. That would mean, “This shit again? When are they going to give us some good grub?” Or a raised eyebrow would mean, “Oh! My favorite, a brick that tastes like flavorless Flintstone vitamins!” If one of us was scratching at the small scar where the translation device was inserted, it would mean, “Why did they bother giving us this crap if no one will speak to us?”
Yeah, and maybe I did start imagining my own meanings to a lot of things… but I’d like to see someone handle weeks of silent confinement in a glass cage without going just a little bit nuts.
I began to uncover my inner creativity while left alone with nothing but silence and my own thoughts to keep me company. Before long I even named all my alien friends. There was Purple Barbie, Blue Tentacle-Haired Lady, Deer Woman, and Tattooed Girl. Okay, come to think of it… maybe I’m not that creative.
I must admit, realizing I had been abducted by aliens was scary, but waiting in those cells? That was torture. We were stripped, we had no privacy, and no one explained anything to us. Every sound from the food delivery system made us jump, and everything else was a staggering silence. Our captors never came in to see us, yet there was the constant feeling that we were being watched.
There was also the constant feeling that something was going to happen soon and it wouldn’t be good. These aliens wanted a bunch of females for a reason… We were stripped naked for a reason… and I don’t have to have a creative mind to figure out what that reason might be.
We all lived in constant fear over those weeks. The food was brutal. The sleep was worse, and the helpless waiting was going to drive us all insane. Then, one morning, the other shoe dropped.
Chapter 2
Alessandra
“Where’s my damn food brick?” I yell as I pound against the glass. “Helloooo? Did you guys decide to quit feeding us?”
I look at the cell next to mine. Purple Barbie appears as confused and irritated as I am. She motions toward the ceiling where our breakfast, lunch, and dinner bricks are usually dropped in regular intervals. I shrug, “Maybe the cook woke up late?” I say. She unnaturally mimics my shrug in silent reply.
As I pace my cage, I try to lie to myself and pretend I’m upset because my breakfast isn’t here yet, but the reality is: I’m scared. This is the first time our schedules have been off in any way since we were brought to the holding cells. I worry that it means whatever they have planned for us is happening soon.
Then, as if my thoughts summoned the unseen evil, the door to the room containing our cells glides open. I was pacing, but now I’m utterly still. The women who were sitting jump to their feet. We all stare helplessly at our captors. I don’t even bother looking around for something to defend myself with. After weeks of being imprisoned I already know there is nothing but glass walls, the floor I sleep on, and a small toilet.
I watch our captors closely, hoping to learn something or get some indication of what is about to happen based off of their body language. There seems to be one stout, little alien man who is issuing orders. He is as wide as he is tall, with ears that jut out from the top of his head. Not bunny-like ears. No, these are more like a hippo’s. Short tusks protrude from his mouth and he has a large pair of eyes that are set wide to the sides of his face. He points a fat, three-fingered hand at all our cages and then to his assistants. The assistants are creatures like him. I notice that they hold five metal rings… one for each of us, I suppose. They incline their heads at their boss’s instructions. Two guards stand posted by the door. Unceremoniously, the boss finishes talking and leaves the room.
The assistants immediately get to work, heading to my cage first, which lies in the farthest corner in the room. The glass door wobbles and then vanishes, leaving me shocked. I spent the first few weeks of my captivity trying to bore through that very same glass with nothing more than my fingernails. It’s a little disheartening to see it disappear so easily.
My captors pause before me. My eyes dart wildly around the room, but my body is scared frozen. I must look like a caged animal. Oddly, I find this thought embarrassing. I feel so feeble. I’ve had weeks to fantasize about my escape and now that I’m finally faced with my first true chance, I freeze. This isn’t who I am… or it wasn’t who I was back on Earth, at least. Who am I now? I wonder.
It’s the situation, I tell myself. It’s just so far from anything I could have ever imagined in my wildest nightmares. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know how to escape, I don’t know what the alien’s plan is for me. Am I food? Am I a slave? A pet? Will they hurt me? Hell, I don’t even know what to expect on the other side of the door. I almost hope it will be the back half of a television studio and this will all be some elaborate prank.
I hear the electric crackle of the prod, and that brings me back into this moment that I want so desperately to escape from. It’s the same type of prod they used to stun me last time I fought. So… I just stay frozen.
One of the assistants approaches and holds a metal ring out towards me. I flinch. As I do, he quickly locks it around my neck. I immediately start to hyperventilate and begin to claw at the thing. The assistant smacks at my hands but doesn’t bother speaking to me—even though he must know I have a translator. He just hooks a chain to my metal collar and leads me to stand in front of my cell.
“Stay,” he commands without looking at me. The assistants proceed to do the same with all the other captives. No one fights back. They link our chains together, and the guards flank us while the assistants lead the way towards the door.
This door has represented unknown horrors to me since the moment I first arrived. My mind has imagined every terrifying possibility that could exist, waiting just on the other side. But what I fear most are all the things I can’t imagine.
My heart pounds as we step through that doorway. I halfway expect to see fire and brimstone on the other side, thus confirming I am truly in hell. But, it is nothing more than a metal corridor. We head down it and are led to a nearby room with showers. There are servants here, of a different species than our captors. The assistants speak to them in a language I don’t understand, even with my translator, then they leave us. I anxiously eye the room and the servants, considering escape, but the gua
Before I can do anything, the servants begin their work. There in front of everyone, we are forced to shower. Oddly enough, this room almost feels like some kind of fucked up spa. No, wait… it’s more like being at the dog groomers. The servants wash us roughly despite our protests that we can do it ourselves. They trim our nails, dry and brush our hair, and spray us with perfumes. I hate to even think it, but although this is a terribly unpleasant situation… it’s the first time I’ve been clean in weeks, so I try to savor it. Who knows when I’ll have another chance to have a shower. If I’ll ever have another chance.
Afterwards comes the worst part yet: the servants convey that they want to shave us… and I’m not talking about our heads. We attempt to argue against this awful invasion, but the guards step forward as a warning—electrical prods crackling. Not wanting to be electrocuted again, I submit. Lying down on a padded table, I squeeze my eyes shut while my stomach turns. They’re shaving us. I’m getting a glimpse into what they want us for.
“Please… can you help us? We just want to go home… can you help us?” I plead quietly as I get my full-body Brazilian with some kind of freaky laser razor, but the servant ignores my words. Honestly, I’m not sure she can even understand me.
Finally, they hand us each two white bands of fabric. We all look at them confused as they motion impatiently at the fabric bands. When we still do nothing, they become irritated and grab Deer Woman. As she struggles, they force a band around her waist and the other goes around her breasts. This distressing scene is soon finished and the rest of us now get the picture. These are “clothes.” One band to cover our breasts and the other wraps around our hips, like a skirt, just barely offering us any semblance of coverage.
They link our chains again before leaving us alone with the guards. I start to muster the courage to try and speak to them. Maybe they can help us… maybe if we just explain to them that we don’t want to be here…
Purple Barbie catches my eye. She puts her hand over her mouth—a warning not to speak. My heart drops, but I trust her, so I remain silent. A few minutes pass in uncomfortable silence before the assistants return. One of them steps forward to address us finally.
“You will behave, or you will be killed. You will be silent, or you will be killed. You will not cry, or you will be killed. Heads down, all of you. Follow,” he demands before pulling the chain hard enough to make us all lurch forward. We follow him with scrambling steps. I bitterly grit my teeth. Even in my imagination escape has been an unlikely outcome, but I had at least imagined a lot more impassioned speeches declaring my outrage at the inhumanity of all this. I certainly never expected all this silent compliance, yet still I follow and I even try to do as I’m told.
We come to a corridor much larger than any I have seen during our short time outside our cells. At the end is a set of wide double doors with something that reminds me of a coat of arms embossed on them. The assistant looks at us pointedly for one hard second before the door hisses open. We obediently tilt our heads toward the floor, despite the fact that our fate lies ahead of us.
The scene inside is like a magnet, however, inexorably drawing my eyes upward. It is a sight fit for a movie—The Great Gatsby perhaps. There are tables set up with elaborate centerpieces. The room is filled with male and female aliens of all kinds, who are dressed in fancy clothes that remind me somewhat of tuxedos and ball gowns. There is food set out across the tables, and my stomach growls at the sight of it. Real food. Sure, it’s not Earth food, but I’d honestly eat anything that didn’t come in brick form right now.
We are led like dogs across the room, past a band playing a light and twinkling song like nothing I’ve ever heard before. It sets an odd ambiance, and I feel like I’m walking through some surrealist painting and not real life. My heart races in my chest and our captor’s commands replay in my brain. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, I tell myself silently. And though I took the threats issued to us very seriously, my eyes involuntarily scan the alien faces in the room. No one looks the least bit concerned at our situation, and I have to assume that none of these people are safe.
We are brought to stand before the stout hippo alien from earlier. The boss, it seemed. I wonder if he is the captain of the spaceship. I wonder if he was the one who abducted me from my bed.
“Ambassador Kye Amara of the people Irdesca and the planet Isleria. We would like to present you with this gift. The Makaan look forward with pleasure to the impending alliance with your planet and the colonies. It is our hope that you take as much pleasure in these beautiful females.” He bows, as gracefully as he can given his shape, and waits for a response from the Ambassador.
My heart races faster. We are being given away. To who? To who, to who, to who? I frantically scan the room to see who our captor is speaking to. All eyes seem to be on a man reclining in a nearby chair. His attention, on the other hand, is only barely engaged by the hippo man.
Based on his appearance, he is clearly a different species of alien than the tusky hippos that have held us in the bowels of their ship for weeks on end. His skin is light… opalescent almost. It practically seems to shine. He has small spikes that line his angular jaw, and I notice they run down his arms as well. His hair is pure white, like snow, and it falls as smooth and straight as silk down past his shoulders.
He finishes his drink before he bothers to look up. Appraising us briefly, his expression is blank. Finally, he stands and strolls over—completely unaffected by the whole life-or-death situation playing out before him. He looks each of us up and down. The other girls stare at the floor, but I struggle to do the same. It’s almost like if I look away, everything might go to hell. It’s like, just by looking, I might be able to have some sort of control over what will happen. Silly, right? To think I have any control right now.
When the Ambassador gets to me, he pauses. Up close I can see his skin is made up of small iridescent scales. The color changes at his cheekbones to a purplish blue, and two slits run across the sides of his nose and spill onto his cheeks… they almost remind me of gills. His eyes are deep purple and look like they have an aurora borealis effect running through them. Regardless, they are as dark as the night, hiding whatever thoughts might be swirling behind them.
He is tall, too, much taller than the hippos, much taller than me, with broad shoulders and a slim waist. He’s both beautiful and frightening. Without a word, he turns his back to us and makes a deep and graceful bow to our captor. Now that’s what a bow is supposed to look like. He has the poise of a dancer, I think to myself. The long shape of his body and the flow of his hair add to the elegance of his form. Stupid thoughts in a moment like this, but they come to me nonetheless.
The Ambassador clasps shoulders with the hippo and they speak quietly for a bit before he motions to a woman of his kind I hadn’t noticed before. She is much taller than any human woman, but he still has to lean down when he whispers something to her. She nods curtly, her eyes popping up for a moment to acknowledge me, but she averts them just as quickly. She comes to gather our chains, leading us away. I look back into the room as we go. I stare, transfixed, at my new “owner,” and just before I round the corner, he looks up—almost as if he can feel my eyes on him. His gaze locks with mine for a millisecond before I’m led beyond his view.
Chapter 3
Alessandra
We are taken deeper through the labyrinth of the ship. Doors whiz open and shut as we pass. We match pace with the woman leading us hurriedly along. When I brave a glance backwards I see that the guards still follow a few paces behind. I’m too unsure of what is expected of us to speak or to question what is happening. I’m not sure if the last orders we received are still in effect. If I do speak, will I be killed?
