Page 8 of Beauty and the Alien Beast
Fucking horny-ass aliens are collecting us like exotic human sex dolls.
I grumbled, “I’m not afraid of those aliens,” while pulling myself into something resembling a sitting position. I shoved my hair off my face, still trying to catch my breath from my exhausting torture session. “How long have you been here?”
“I have no fucking idea,” L.A. accent answered. “I was going shopping when they grabbed me. Shopping!” She huffed. “I’ve got the worst luck ever.” She paused. “One minute I’m in a big-box store at three in the morning, looking for cheap wine. The next, I’m here… in a damn cage like some animal. Fuck! My boyfriend’s definitely going to think I ditched him.” The woman’s rosebud lips twisted.
“I can’t keep track of time,” I interjected. “I think they keep us indoors and away from clocks and windows and vary when they feed us so we can’t figure it out.” I hated it. It disoriented me and left me feeling permanently exhausted and queasy. But I was determined to survive until they slipped up, giving me an opportunity to escape.
I’ve got to get back home to Mom or, at the very least, get word to her that I’m alive. Knowing her, she’s in a panic over my disappearance.
I swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall.
I have a family, a job, and a damn life to return to—even if it’s boring as hell and my romantic life ain’t shit.
“Yeah, it’s like Abu Ghraib with lingerie,” another prisoner growled under her breath. “Except with more purpose. They basically keep up this same shit until we either decide to get with their damn alien program or we wash out and they kill us. This shit is crazy. Those fucking aliens keep the pressure on by never telling us when our number’s up. But I guarantee you they’ll kill you right in front of the rest of us to scare the shit out of everybody.”
“What is the point of all this?” I asked.
Another woman chimed in. “I heard them talking about something called a ‘fertility rating.’ Like they’re planning to breed us or something. I also heard they have several types of females from other alien planets. They’re segregating us by alien race. That’s why all the humans are in here—something about it being easier for them to condition us.”
Other alien females? Fertility rating? Breeding? Forced sex—and motherhood on top of it?I shuddered with revulsion.I refuse to be some alien’s baby mama.
“Oh, hell no…” I muttered while I rubbed the spot on my neck where one of the Omers had embedded an implant that he said I needed to survive. Without the device, I wouldn’t even be able to breathe the air outside this place.
The woman shrugged. “Yeah, well, apparently, the Omers are going to sell us to some four-armed alien called a Wulfaen Gladiator. I heard the Wulfaen thingy can shift into a huge mutant wolf—like in one of those blockbuster horror movies.”
“Holy shit,” I whispered.
“According to the rumor spreading around, that’s not the most horrifying part,” the woman added. “The Wulfaen want to impregnate us with their furry babies because they’re dying from some sickness. When I heard that info, I shit on myself… literally.”
I groaned. “This has to be some fucked-up dream.”
The woman snorted. “Girl, every day since I woke up in this hellhole, I’ve been clicking my heels and chanting, ‘There’s no place like home,’ hoping I’d magically transport myself back to Earth… But look… I’m still here. In this darn cage.” She sighed heavily. “By the way, my name’s Sheryl.”
“Ella,” I replied, my mind spinning, trying to piece together all the information I’d learned.
So the Omers plan to brainwash our asses and sell us as sex slaves to four-armed shapeshifting Wulfaen Gladiators who plan on knocking us up with their mutant babies?
This can’t be happening.
But it is… and this planet is my new reality.
And now I was more determined than ever to escape, or I was going to get fucked—in more ways than one—by those damn Wulfaen Gladiators.
6
Teken
By the timeI reached the luxury suite the slavers kept for their paying guests, my riding dog Brax and I were both exhausted.
I hopped off his shaggy black back, and Brax shook himself, baring a double row of teeth in an enormous yawn. Domesticating the huge but loyal carnivores wasn’t easy and neither was bonding with them, but they were indispensable in the trackless jungle.
One week of riding, traversing rivers, and fighting through the wild and untamed vegetation had left me with a few new scars, but nothing serious. Brax had at least eaten well on the dead we left. As for me, I had found myself brooding far too much in my quiet moments as I thought about the slavers and the frightened alien females they “processed” at our destination.
Gladiators like me had a strong sense of right and wrong. But right now, as I pretended to be a wealthy noble visiting from another planet, with a taste for conditioned alien females, my high morals could be a liability on this mission.
Striding over to the edge of the clearing around the property, I found a little alcove to clean up and adjust my disguise. The temporary, jaw-length wig of dark-silver hair had been bonded to my scalp before I had left home. I used a nanite bathing cloth on myself and my armor and a grooming brush on Brax, then unsealed the dustproof, waterproof packet with the rest of my concealment inside of it. A short cloak and sleeveless tunic were a dark sea blue, and a set of jeweled rings and armbands replaced my bracers. Once I was dressed, I put my travel clothes into the packet and buried it. I clipped a dummy compliance collar on Brax, scratched his floppy ears, and stepped out into the open.
The complex was surrounded by heavy, dull metal walls studded with defensive weapons and sensor arrays. Several of the arrays oriented my direction as I walked up to the tall, arched front gate that was guarded by two well-dressed mercenaries with long white braids.
