Ch 1-10

Summary

{Book #1 of the Kohai Chronicles} While hiking the snowy peaks of Colorado, twenty-five-year-old, Bennett Michelson wakes up to find that the universe he thought he knew is a whole lot bigger and colder than any fourteen thousand footers… Abducted by strange ugly-looking creatures with beady eyes, misshapen bodies, speaking a language he can’t understand, and forced into an alien trafficking ring. Bennett is thrust into a whirlwind of events he never thought possible. Everyday he struggles to survive amid the fear and isolation that grips him the longer he is held in captivity. Will a mischievous alien duo be what finally breaks Bennetts spirits for good or will becoming their pet be the beginnings of something else entirely?

.1

BENNETT

I knew I had royally fucked up from the moment I blinked my eyes open, hazy and disoriented, my head swimming as though I’d been spun in circles and dropped without warning. The air around me felt heavy, stifling, carrying a faint antiseptic tang that clung to the back of my throat. My vision swam, the world tilting in and out of focus until shapes slowly resolved into the dim outline of a room I didn’t recognize.

The last clear memory I had was of stumbling through the mountains somewhere in Colorado, the kind of wild, unforgiving terrain where one wrong step could leave you broken and frozen in a ditch before dawn—even in the middle of July. The air had carried a biting chill, raw and merciless, and the darkness had pressed in on all sides, suffocating and absolute. Above me, the stars had been smothered by a ceiling of low, shifting clouds, leaving only shadows and the faint outline of jagged peaks to guide me. The wind had howled down the slopes like a living thing, cutting straight through to the bone no matter how tightly I wrapped my arms around myself. My fingers had gone stiff and useless, my breath fragile and brittle as it cracked in the air, and I’d known with a sinking certainty that I couldn’t last much longer out there.

So where the hell was I now?

If I’d been rescued, then maybe I was lying in some tiny ER on the outskirts of Denver—or at least in some ranger station made to patch up idiots like me. But another, darker possibility lodged itself in my head: maybe I was dead. The thought carried a strange weight, like an echo I couldn’t shake. Still, if that were true, if this really was the afterlife, then it seemed odd that I would wake up with my tongue sandpaper-dry, a desperate thirst clawing its way down my throat.

Dead people didn’t get thirsty. Did they?

In an effort to take in my surroundings, I tried to roll into a sitting position, straining to lift myself off my back. The motion was clumsy, my limbs sluggish, but before I could make it upright, something jerked hard against my neck. Pain shot through me, sharp and immediate, and a ragged wheeze escaped my chapped, cracking lips before I could stop it.

The sudden clang of metal rang in my ears, far too loud in the stillness, and my hands flew to my throat on pure instinct. My fingertips brushed against cold iron, unyielding and thick, and a soft, broken whimper crawled out of my throat before I even realized I’d made a sound. There it was: a collar, heavy and solid, locked tight around my neck.

A short length of chain—no more than a three or four feet—trailed from the collar to an eyelet hammered into the wall just above the floor. My stomach turned as I wrapped trembling fingers around the links and pulled with everything I had, even knowing the effort was useless. The chain held fast, immovable, the tension reverberating into my arms until my muscles gave out.

I let it fall from my hands, my gaze dragging to the wall itself. It had the thickness and stubbornness of concrete, but the surface wasn’t quite right—smooth in places, strangely seamless, with none of the porous grit or jagged edges I expected. Whatever it was, it wasn’t natural stone. And whatever this place was, it wasn’t anywhere I was meant to be.

Definitely not a hospital. Which meant—dead then. I had to be. There was no other way to rationalize being chained to a wall like some medieval prisoner.

My mother—though I hardly considered her worthy of the title anymore—had finally been right, after all. I had gone to hell. Not for murder, not for treason, not for anything grand or headline-worthy, but for the petty, ordinary sins she’d warned me about since childhood. For the stack of dog-eared porno mags I thought I’d hidden well enough under my mattress. Or maybe it was for the sex before marriage, the shots of cheap liquor, the smokes bummed off strangers behind gas stations. Take your pick. Any one of them—or the sum total of twenty-five reckless years—apparently added up to eternal damnation.

The thought barely had time to settle before a sudden buzzing chirp exploded from somewhere above my head. The sound was sharp and insectile, rattling in my skull, and then—pain. White-hot, blinding pain. A burning jab seared into my side, followed by a surge of electricity that tore through every nerve ending. My fingers and toes lit up like they’d been set on fire, and a strangled cry ripped itself from my throat.

I dropped the chain without thinking, rolling instinctively away from whatever had struck me. The collar yanked tight, the too-short tether biting into my windpipe as it wrenched me to a stop. Stars burst across my vision, and for one terrible second I thought I might actually choke myself to death before I even knew what had attacked me.

And then I saw it.

Towering above me was the ugliest monster I had ever had the displeasure of dreaming up, a grotesque silhouette that eclipsed the dim light. Too tall, too wrong, with a shape that my mind scrabbled to make sense of.

Because that’s what this had to be, right? A dream. A nightmare. Proof that I hadn’t survived the mountain, that I’d finally crossed over. I had gone to hell, and this thing was waiting for me to show me the way into its depths.

Yet as I stared up at the thing looming over me—a four-foot-tall, lizard-skinned blimp of a nightmare with six beady, lightless eyes—I knew this was far too vivid to be something I’d conjured in my own head. Its greyish-purple hide looked leathery and diseased, pocked with welts that oozed a sluggish, greyish fluid, each drip leaving a sour tang in the air.

Where a nose should have been was nothing but emptiness, a flat stretch of skin, and in the center of its face yawned what I could only assume was a mouth. It ran vertically, splitting the head from brow to chin, opening and closing with a wet, sucking sound like a fish gasping at the surface. Inside, rows upon rows of needle-like teeth flexed in and out, grinding against each other with every shuddering breath it took.

Its body made even less sense, a grotesque patchwork of wrong parts. The upper half looked as though an orangutan had been twisted inside out, long arms dangling low enough for its clawed, four-fingered hands to rake the ground. Its torso sagged into a swollen potbelly, heavy and distended, the skin stretched taut and mottled. Below that, it stood on a pair of spindly birdlike legs, each ending in three hooked toes that dug into the floor with a click, click, click as it shifted its weight.

It shouldn’t have been able to exist, but there it was—breathing, dripping, watching me.

I shuddered as another harsh, buzzing chirp rattled from the leathery thing’s vertical mouth, the sound vibrating in my teeth. From an open orifice along its arm, that grey, viscous substance dripped steadily, each drop landing on the ground with a wet spat that made my stomach turn. In its other hand, four clawed fingers curled around a long black rod, sleek and alien, tipped with two prongs at one end and a trigger at the other.

Before I could brace myself, the creature jabbed the prongs at me again. White-hot pain jolted through my body, tearing a strangled cry from my raw throat. Then its grip shifted. The monster seized the chain attached to my collar and yanked with such brutal force that I was certain my neck had snapped. A choked scream clawed out of me as the monkey-chicken abomination detached the chain from the wall’s eyelet. Without hesitation, it lifted me by the collar, the edges of cold metal biting mercilessly into my skin, and dragged me out of the room as though I weighed nothing.

I thrashed, kicking and clawing at the air, every flail useless. The collar cut deeper each time I fought, choking me with every tug. My vision blurred, tears streaking hot down my face, as the hallway passed in a smear of shadows and unrecognizable shapes.

Then the corridor opened into a much larger chamber.

My eyes widened, the tears forgotten as dread swallowed me whole. Lined up against the far wall were creatures—dozens of them—each bound by the same chain threaded through the collars at their throats. They stood in grim, silent submission, shackled in a grotesque parade.

And they weren’t like me.

Some bore gills that pulsed faintly, others wings that drooped heavy and useless at their sides. There were claws sharper than knives, scales glistened, and some even had skin that looked like an alligator, long tails that twitched restlessly, and tentacles that writhed weakly against the stone floor. Some bodies were painted in colors so unnatural they hurt to look at; others were all sharp angles and blades, their very forms radiating violence.

But none of them looked at me. Not a single one lifted their head. They stood with faces bowed, eyes downcast, cowed into submission as if even daring to glance sideways was too dangerous.

And in that instant, I realized with a sick twist in my gut: I wasn’t special. I was just the newest addition to the collection.

Once I was shoved into place along the wall, the chain clinking as it was threaded through my collar, more of the chicken-monkey things descended on us. They moved with brutish efficiency, yanking at collars and jerking heads forward, stripping every captive of whatever semblance of clothes or belongings they had left. It was a process—systematic, humiliating, mechanical.

When one of them turned its six black eyes on me, my stomach dropped. I lashed out before I could think better of it, clawing at leathery skin, kicking, spitting, screaming as it reached for my shirt. My voice cracked with fury and fear, but the creature didn’t even flinch. Its four-fingered hand gripped that black rod with the prongs at the end, and one squeeze of the trigger was all it took.

The pain was instant and absolute.

A jolt ripped through me, short-circuiting every nerve. My body convulsed, seizing so violently I slammed against the wall and dropped like dead weight to the floor. My chest heaved in shallow gasps, but the collar bit so tight I could barely drag air in at all. Every muscle twitched helplessly, my fingers curling and uncurled in rapid, jerky spasms, my legs kicking against stone like they belonged to someone else.

By the time the current faded, I was nothing but a shuddering, breathless heap, tears and spit stringing down my chin. I wanted to scream, to curse, to fight again—but all I could do was lie there, body betraying me, while leathery hands stripped away what little dignity I had left.

Once our clothes were fully stripped away, every creature in line—myself included—was forced forward by the chains tethered to our collars. We were dragged into another room, packed so tightly with cages that some were barely large enough to fit into. The air was thick, hot and metallic, carrying the faint tang of fear and something foul I didn’t want to identify.

I fought every step, muscles trembling with exhaustion, jerking and pulling at my chain, teeth clenched, desperate to stay free. But that damned black rod—a instrument I had begun calling the “cattle prod from hell”—found me again, and the world exploded in white-hot pain. Every nerve screamed, my muscles convulsed violently, and my vision blurred with tears and sweat. A sick thought cut through the haze: could my heart survive another shock like that, or would I just keel over and die right here, broken and helpless?

Hands gripped me by my hair, hauling me forward. My fingers scraped and clawed at the cold, unforgiving floor as I was shoved toward the cage, my body slamming against the metal with a hollow clang. My feet slid across the slick surface, legs trembling under the strain, as the creature jerked me hard again, shoving me headfirst inside. The impact drove the wind from my lungs, the low ceiling pressing down, walls biting into my shoulders and back.

I crumpled to the floor, body spasming from the lingering shock, curling instinctively into the farthest corner I could reach. My sobs were small, choked, barely audible over the chorus around me. From the cages beside me came the sickening symphony of suffering: low, guttural groans that vibrated in the metal floor; high-pitched screeches of creatures trapped too tightly in their cages; the wet, squelching sounds of bodies pressed against cold steel; claws scraping, chains rattling, teeth gnashing. Every sound stabbed at my nerves, a relentless reminder that I was not alone in my misery, but was also surrounded by terrors only a nightmare could explain.

The grey monsters moved methodically between cages, cattle prods flashing and crackling in their hands, but the noise of the creatures themselves—whimpers, cries, and suppressed howls—filled the room far more terrifyingly than the prods ever could. I curled tighter into my corner, hugging my knees to my chest, the cold metal walls pressing against me, the low ceiling crushing my lungs with every shallow breath. Each second stretched on, merciless and sharp, and a sick, sinking helplessness settled into my bones.

If this was a nightmare, I prayed silently, desperately, that I would wake up soon. But deep down, a cold, sinking certainty told me what I didn’t want to admit aloud: this was no dream.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly in the dim, windowless warehouse-like room, every second filled with the maddening jumble of noises the creatures around me made—chirps, gurgles, rattles, and hisses blending into a chaotic, alien symphony. Amid the sensory chaos, my mind drifted—inevitably—to memories I hadn’t touched in years.

The Banty’s—that’s what I’d started calling them, thanks to their vile personalities, strange chirping language, and those creepy three-toed chicken feet—reminded me all too well of the Banty roosters that had tormented me during one awful summer at my grandfather’s farm in Texas. I hadn’t been close to the man—still wasn’t—but I could remember those birds chasing me across the yard like it had happened yesterday, their spurs scraping my legs, their wings battering my face. That memory clung to me now, bitter and unwelcome, every time I looked at those awful creatures. They, just like my grandfather that summer, had hardly paid me—or anything else—any mind. For what I guessed had to have been a day or two now, they’d left their new captives alone.

I wasn’t sure how much longer I could go without food and water, but hunger wasn’t even the worst of it. The cold was. With no clothes or anything to cover myself with sleep was impossible—I shivered so hard it felt like my bones might crack. Nothing I shouted, nothing I tried, ever drew the Banty’s back into that windowless warehouse of a room—not even to punish me. And even if they had, what would I have said? They were more likely to eat me than help me.

I tried to accept the idea of just waiting, to hold still and endure, but fear has a way of unraveling logic. And I had never been good at handling being afraid.

So when a door suddenly shimmered into existence on the far wall—just far enough out of my line of sight through the bars that I couldn’t see it clearly—I felt a twisted rush of relief. Movement meant something was happening, and anything was better than the silence. Three Banty’s waddled in, chirping and oozing in that grotesque way I knew I’d never get used to, their vertical mouths snapping open and shut in a maddening, insectile rhythm that chilled me more than the metal on my bare skin. They worked their way down the line with mechanical indifference, popping cages open just long enough to hurl in buckets and containers sloshing with some kind of liquid.

When they reached my cage, I pressed toward the door. The space wasn’t tall enough for me to stand—only crouch or kneel—but desperation drove me forward, hoping for even the smallest chance to slip past. The Banty didn’t so much as blink. Its gaping mouth clattered shut as it drove the cattle prod hard into my ribs.

The shock tore through me like molten fire, fiercer than any strike I’d endured before. My vision went white. Ears rang. My body convulsed helplessly, every muscle betraying me as the current ripped control away. Time stretched into agony; it felt like minutes before I could draw a ragged breath, before the spasms eased and the world snapped back into place.

When the last of the tremors finally drained from my limbs, I sagged into a slumped sitting position, chest heaving, dragging air back into my lungs. That’s when I noticed what had been left in my cage.

The first was a grey bucket, similar to any 5-gallon bucket you would find at a hardware store or in a garage. Empty, but rimmed with yellow stains and carrying a stench so foul it made my stomach flip. The reek of stale feces clung to the air, heavy and sour. Gagging, I shoved it away with my foot until it rattled against the farthest corner of the tiny cage.

The second item was stranger: a short, cylinder-shaped canister, shaped almost like a thermos but oddly uneven, with no flat surface to set it upright and no twist-off lid. Instead, near the top sat a small black button—like something you’d see on the side of a flashlight. When I pressed it, the lid spiraled upward, breaking the seal with a sharp hiss and releasing a thin curl of vapor into the air.

Inside was an almost iridescent grey substance, shimmering faintly in the dim light. At first glance it reminded me uncomfortably of the ooze that seeped from the Banty’s skin, but the smell was different. Fresh. Clean. Something caught between cucumbers and roses, though not quite either.

Tentatively, I lifted it to my lips and took a cautious sip, praying it was food—and not something inedible that would leave me retching. The liquid was thick and slimy, sliding over my tongue like aloe vera gel. Its taste was almost nonexistent, bland with just the faintest trace of sweetness—like a piece of hard candy that had sat too long in its wrapper.

I waited, braced for cramps, dizziness, anything that might signal I’d just poisoned myself. But instead, warmth spread slowly through my chest and stomach. My thirst dulled. My gut felt faintly full. Even the shivering eased, just a little.

“What the hell is this? Three-in-one survival goo… or something?” I muttered with a soft, shaky laugh. The sound felt alien in my throat, but it was better than silence.

Clutching the canister, I tried to steady my breathing, letting the faint warmth from the strange liquid spread through my chest. My muscles still twitched, and my mind was foggy from exhaustion, but curiosity—and the need to gauge danger—pulled my attention outward. I forced myself to scan the cages around me, reminding myself that staying aware might be the only thing keeping me alive.

The creature directly to my left could only be described as aquatic. The very air around it seemed to roll and sway, as if it carried its own bubble of water. Its skin shimmered impossibly bright in the dim light, opalescent along the torso, deepening to a near-black blue along its arms and legs. The color and pattern reminded me of some exotic fish. Thin, almost reptilian eyes sat high on its face, flanking a ridged nose with two vertical slits for nostrils that looked oddly like gills. The ridges were arrowhead-shaped, growing larger as they jutted upward into a Mohawk running down the center of its head and continuing straight along its back, ending in a sharp, deep-blue tail.

The tail flicked irritably whenever my gaze drifted toward it, and when I finally met the creature’s ghostly white eyes, a chill ran straight up my spine. I forced a nervous smile—the same kind I used to plaster on for my mother when I was trying to appease her—and, to my surprise, it returned one of its own: a dangerously sharp, hungry grin. Teeth flashed in the low light, long and needlelike, and a snake-like tongue flicked out to taste the air in my direction. My heart hammered in my chest, and I was suddenly grateful for the thick metal bars separating us.

With a weary shiver, I decided that I’d done enough reconnaissance for one sitting. I edged toward the center and back of my cage, putting myself at an even, “safe” distance from both of my potentially dangerous neighbors—the other of which I was too even look to hard at—and curled my knees to my chest, drawing into myself as best I could.

I didn’t exactly feel happy—despite my earlier, shaky laughter—but I did feel a little better after taking a few more cautious sips of the strange drink the Banty’s had left me. I didn’t know how long it would be before my bizarre, chicken-monkey captors returned, so I had to ration it carefully, even though I was far from full. Otherwise, I’d likely go hungry. I didn’t trust aliens to know the first thing about keeping a human alive—even if they seemed to have perfected the art of trafficking people. Or exotic creatures, judging by my “Siren”-like neighbor in the cage next to me.

Better safe than sorry.

If only I’d remembered that before I’d stranded myself on a mountain in Colorado… all in a bid to clear my head after another long, frustrating day dragging myself through the woods, patching worn trails and dodging prickly coworkers. A few of the people I worked with weren’t exactly friendly, though I knew I could be difficult to get along with. My lack of friends in high school hadn’t helped my confidence either, with my gloomy disposition and my general inability to read a social situation. Still, some days the solitude of the forest had been the only thing keeping me sane. But chasing that view, that fleeting moment of peace… somehow, I’d walked myself straight into disaster.

.2

BENNETT

The days—or maybe weeks, I honestly couldn’t tell anymore—bled together into a blur of sameness, one long, indistinct stretch of nothingness where time had no meaning. My only markers came in the form of the Bantys’ visits, those grotesque creatures shuffling in to rattle cages, jab cattle prods, or toss in supplies with all the care of someone feeding livestock. Sometimes it was the harsh sting of their shocks, other times it was the dull thud of a new container of that grey goop landing at my feet, hissing faintly as it opened. That sludgy substance had become my only source of food and water, the sole thing keeping me alive in this metal coffin of a cage.

Captivity had stripped me down piece by piece, robbing me of anything resembling dignity. The routine of it—eat the goop, shiver through the cold, listen to the cries and groans of my fellow prisoners, wait for the Bantys to come back—became a kind of grotesque rhythm I couldn’t escape. Sleep came only in shallow, fractured pieces, broken by the scraping of claws, the clatter of metal, or my own body jerking awake from dreams that felt too close to reality.

Time itself became elastic, warping around me, expanding and collapsing until I couldn’t tell if I’d been here a few days or a lifetime. All I knew was that the Bantys ruled the hours, and without their visits, I might as well have been floating in a void.

At first, I managed to hold out for nearly a day and a half before the inevitable caught up with me. My body’s needs didn’t care about pride, dignity, or the fact that I was locked in a cage like some stray mutt. When the moment came, I’d tried shouting, banging on the bars, even begging for the Bantys’ attention. But my calls went unanswered, swallowed by the endless din of this place. And really, what had I expected? Mercy wasn’t exactly part of their vocabulary.

I learned quickly that they didn’t care if I starved, froze, or humiliated myself. Their concern extended only as far as keeping us alive and contained. My pleas for help earned me nothing—no bucket, no reprieve—only the scrape and clatter of their cattle prods against the bars, a warning to keep quiet. When they did speak, their strange, chirping language rattled through the air like broken static, a sound that always seemed to end with pain for someone. Sometimes me, sometimes the poor soul in the next cage over.

It didn’t take long for the humiliation to set in. Whatever shred of dignity I’d carried into this nightmare bled out onto the cold, filthy floor, leaving me raw and empty. The Bantys hadn’t just trapped my body; they were dismantling me, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but a shaking, cornered animal.

After hours of torturous squirming, clenching, and futile bargaining with my own body, I finally broke. Pride gave way to necessity, and I surrendered to the humiliating compromise the Bantys had left me: the stained bucket shoved into the corner of my cage. Urinating into it felt degrading beyond words, like another piece of my humanity had been stripped away and tossed aside. But the alternative—soiling myself completely—was far worse. Still, the act left me with a hollow pit in my stomach, a chilling reminder of how far I had fallen, how utterly helpless I was in their grip.

Another torment came swiftly on its heels: the gnawing question of whether the Bantys would ever empty the bucket. I tried asking once—desperation pushing the words from my throat in a cracked, pleading whisper. The response had been swift and merciless. A Banty jabbed the prod hard into my side, the current surging through me with savage efficiency. My back arched, my muscles seizing so violently that I couldn’t even draw in breath to scream. The pain lasted seconds, but the aftermath lingered for hours—joints aching, muscles trembling, the stink of burnt skin clinging to my ribs.

Worse than the pain was the humiliation that followed. Each time they shocked me, I lost control. My bladder gave way no matter how hard I fought, leaving me curled in the filth of my own body, humiliated and shaking. The shocks weren’t just punishment; they were a reminder that they owned every part of me—my body, my dignity, even the most basic functions of my life.

I found myself caught between two degrading options, filth clinging to me either way. My world had shrunk to a cage of metal and stench, and with it came a gnawing confusion I couldn’t shake. I still couldn’t understand the Bantys’ garbled language—those chirps and clatters that echoed like mockery through the warehouse—and I had no idea why I’d been taken, what they wanted from me, or how long they planned to keep me here. In the absence of answers, I had only one strategy left: silence. Keeping my mouth shut had become my only real defense, the one thing I could control.

But even silence wasn’t always enough. I could sit perfectly still in the cramped space—barely large enough to squat or shift without scraping my knees on cold metal—and yet one of the Bantys would still wander over, jabbing their cruel sticks through the bars just to watch me convulse. The shocks weren’t punishment, not really. They were sport. A game for them, a reminder for me that my body belonged to them now, that even my pain was theirs to command.

The first few times, I’d screamed until my throat was raw. But now the sound of my own voice felt like a distant echo, a memory more than a reaction. I twitched, I writhed, I endured. My screams had become background noise even to me, another layer of this living nightmare I could barely recognize as mine anymore.

Time—or whatever passed for time in that dimly lit, never-ending nightmare—had lost all meaning. There was no day, no night, only the steady, oppressive glow of an artificial light source that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Its eerie, colorless radiance filled the warehouse-like chamber, bathing the endless rows of cages in a sickly, permanent twilight. I had no idea what powered it, but the unceasing glow gnawed at me. It erased the natural rhythm of existence, eroding my sense of when to sleep, when to wake, when to hope. With each hour—or was it days?—it was wearing me thin, pulling apart the seams of my sanity.

At some point, without even realizing it, I’d started muttering to myself. Words with no meaning slipped from my lips, scraps of thoughts and half-formed sentences spilling out as though they belonged to someone else. Hours would vanish while I stared blankly at the patch of floor just beyond my cage, lost in a haze of nothingness. Every so often, a flicker of awareness would snap me back—a jolt of shame or confusion at hearing my own voice—but even those moments were becoming rare. More and more, it felt as though I was dissolving into the monotony, fading into a version of myself I didn’t recognize.

But I was not the only one unraveling in captivity. The chamber itself was alive with sound, a ceaseless cacophony that testified to the suffering of its inhabitants. Screeches, moans, guttural howls, and noises I had no names for rose and fell in uneven waves, never letting me forget I wasn’t alone. It was like living inside a zoo designed by a sadist.

When the Bantys descended, silence came—but only for a moment. Their menacing prods cracked against cages, shocking flesh into submission, and the chamber would fall eerily quiet, as though holding its breath. Yet it never lasted. All it took was one creature panicking, one spark of fear, to ignite a chain reaction of cries that shattered the stillness and set the nightmare chorus howling again.

From what I could tell, many of the beings trapped around me weren’t simple animals. There was awareness in their eyes, a haunted sharpness that mirrored my own. But the line between the truly sentient and the merely instinct-driven was blurred, a mystery I doubted I’d ever solve. To the Bantys, it made no difference. Their treatment of us was uniform—every captive reduced to livestock, a commodity behind bars. Watching it unfold, I couldn’t help but think that even Earth’s most neglected and abused animals had been afforded more dignity than what we endured here.

As the days drifted aimlessly onward, uncertainty gnawed at my chest like a living thing. I was caught in a nightmare with no clear beginning or end, my existence stripped of meaning, dignity, and hope. Every moment was a question I couldn’t stop asking: would this dehumanizing captivity define the rest of my life? Would I be reduced, permanently, to the status of livestock—an object to be stored and forgotten, devoid of value or respect—left to rot in this cage until the end of my days? The daily struggle for survival pressed down on me like an invisible weight, and I could feel myself splintering under the pressure. The limits of my endurance had blurred so completely I no longer knew where they were.

With a heavy heart, I sought refuge in sleep, clinging to the fleeting illusion of escape it offered. But even slumber was no sanctuary. It was a ceaseless battle—twisting and contorting my aching body, hunting for even the smallest scrap of comfort on the frigid, metallic surface that had become my bed, my table, my world. The cold crept upward through my skin and into my bones until it felt like it was seeping into my very soul, compounding the slow, grinding torment of my captivity.

The ominous rattle of the door—a sound that had become a harbinger of pain—echoed through the chamber. Its grinding slide into the wall sent a shiver crawling down my spine, each metallic groan stirring memories of agony I couldn’t erase. That sound had become a signal, a dreadful trigger; it meant the Bantys were coming, and with them, fresh waves of suffering.

But this time… something was different. The familiar rhythm of chaos didn’t follow. No shrill chatter. No flash of electric prods. Only an uneasy stillness that settled over the room like a heavy fog. The air seemed to thicken as my pulse quickened in my throat.

For once, the Bantys did not unleash their usual reign of terror during what I had come to call “feeding time.” Instead, something strange unfolded—something too deliberate, too coordinated. The Bantys, with their cold, beadlike eyes and grotesque, waddling gait, moved with an eerie precision. Their clawed hands adjusted tools, flicked switches, and passed quiet signals between one another. Whatever they were preparing for, it wasn’t the routine torment I had come to dread.

Inexplicably, the Bantys began extracting creatures from their cages, moving with a macabre sense of purpose that made my skin crawl. The captives, shackled together by iron collars and short chains, were forced into haphazard groups, forming a disconcerting procession that shuffled toward the looming exit.

The spectacle was horrifying in its unfamiliarity. This was no routine of pain or torment—it was something else entirely, something deliberate. Anxiety hung thick in the room, clinging to every trembling body, and fear radiated from the captives like heat from a fire, infecting anyone who drew breath in the chamber.

My heart thudded violently in my chest as the procession advanced, each step forward dragging me deeper into dread. The unknown loomed before me like a tangible weight, and I could feel the muscles in my stomach knotting with anticipation. And then, impossibly, it was my turn.

The grotesque creature—a four-foot-tall lizard-like blimp of nightmares—stood before me, a horrifying silhouette against the sickly glow of the warehouse. Its beady black eyes glimmered with something I couldn’t name, and a low, angry chirp reverberated through the air. Four clawed fingers jerked open the door of my cage with shocking ease, and I sagged against the cold metal floor, drained from days of confinement. I had little strength to resist. My body felt like lead, my limbs trembling as the creature’s grip lifted me upright.

I flailed weakly, bat at the sickly gray-purple monstrosity, but my resistance was feeble—more reflex than strategy. My arms barely met its grasp, and even the slight effort left me gasping, utterly aware of how powerless I had become.

As I was yanked from my cage, a surge of raw terror shot through me, freezing my blood in its wake. I knew I had to fight, to resist in some small way, but the thought of dying here—trapped, helpless, consumed by these grotesque creatures—was a chilling weight pressing against my chest. My body convulsed, slick with the sticky goop the Bantys had left behind, clinging to my skin like a cruel, mocking trap designed to ensnare the unwary.

I writhed and jerked with every ounce of strength I had left, but the Bantys’ grip was unyielding. Thick metal cuffs bit into my wrists and neck, anchoring me firmly as I was dragged toward a group of other prisoners. Despite the bizarre assortment of beings surrounding me—scales, tentacles, wings, eyes where eyes shouldn’t be—there was no sign of another human. The thought clawed at me: had I been the only one they captured?

Oddly, the act of walking—painful, uneven steps on weak, trembling legs—brought a strange, fleeting sense of liberation. It had been weeks, I realized, since I’d been able to stand upright, if I counted the interminable feedings of the thick, unappetizing goop as time. I forced myself to maintain a facade of composure, swallowing the panic that threatened to spill over. But I could not hide the trembling in my legs as the group shuffled down the dimly lit corridor, the metallic clang of chains echoing against the walls, before being ushered into an empty room whose silence pressed down like a living thing.

Upon our arrival, everything not permanently attached to my body was stripped away—which, in my case, amounted to little more than the cuffs the Bantys had fastened to escort me here. The room’s walls soon began to secrete a strange, foamy substance from every surface, cascading down in thick sheets. It created an environment that bore a disconcerting resemblance to a carwash, only cruelly hostile and suffocating.

To my left, another bizarre creature—a being with fish-like, aquatic features, though utterly unlike its cage mate—plunged into a state of harrowing distress. It let out anguished wails and guttural groans, its ridged spikes along its back flattening and elongating like quills of panic. The creature clawed desperately at the walls, slick with foam, in a frantic attempt to escape the relentless inundation.

Part of me knew I should have been unsettled simply by the sheer absurdity and variety of beings packed into the chamber. But fear had hollowed me out, leaving little room for anything else. The foam continued its relentless descent, invading my eyes, mouth, and nose until I felt suffocated, gagging against the strange substance. It pressed down with impossible weight, as if trying to drown me alive, and I struggled to stay upright, fighting the overwhelming urge to collapse onto my knees and surrender to the suffocating tide.

As the foam stung and burned my eyes, I resorted to frantic rubbing, pressing my palms against my face in a desperate attempt to ease the pain. Anything to make the unbearable sensation stop. The air was thick, every breath like inhaling wet cement, and panic clawed up my throat. For a terrifying moment, I was sure this would be how I died—suffocating in a room full of strangers, in a place I couldn’t understand, my final moments swallowed by foam and fear.

Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone. The suffocating mass dissolved into nothing, vanishing so completely it might have been an hallucination. I blinked in disbelief, watching the last wisps of vapor evaporate into the sterile air.

The burning in my eyes and nose began to fade, replaced by relief so sharp it was almost dizzying. And then I realized—I felt clean. Not just rinsed, but impossibly, unnaturally clean. The stench of waste, the grime and filth that had coated me for weeks—it was all gone. I inhaled deeply, the air sharp and crisp in my lungs.

My teeth felt freshly brushed, my tongue smooth. The heavy oil that had plastered my hair to my scalp was gone too, replaced by the light, soft weight of clean curls that brushed against my neck and shoulders. For one strange, fleeting moment, it was like I’d just stepped out of a high-end salon instead of a nightmare. I couldn’t help marveling, confused and wary in equal measure, at the impossible transformation.

That fleeting sense of renewal vanished the moment the Bantys returned. Still naked and disoriented, I was herded out of the room and away from the group I’d entered with. Their prods crackled, jabbing me forward whenever I hesitated. Fear coursed through me as I realized I was being singled out, but it wasn’t like safety had ever existed in numbers here. The others were dragged off in different directions, swallowed by corridors of cold steel and shadow.

I was led to another cage—larger than before, tall enough for me to stand, though no less confining. The absence of a bucket told me I wouldn’t be staying long, and that thought twisted my gut into knots. Whatever was coming next, I doubted it would be better.

Without warning, a jolt from one of their cattle prods sent me crashing to my knees, my body convulsing violently. The Bantys chirped and yipped, their excitement unmistakable as they worked. My head was wrenched upward, my arms pulled wide. The cold weight of my old iron cuffs and collar was replaced by something new—something worse. Gold. Ornate and heavy, studded with rubies the size of coins, they draped across my neck and chest in a grotesque parody of womens jewelry.

A sheer cloth, barely reaching my thighs, was tied around my waist—decorated with more rubies that glittered mockingly under the sterile light. It concealed nothing. The touch of their hands on my skin made my stomach twist, but I couldn’t move, couldn’t even resist. The prod had left me trembling and powerless.

Once the Bantys were satisfied with their work, they threw me back into the cage and drew a heavy red cover over it, plunging me into darkness. The last thing I heard before silence took over was their chirping chatter, fading down the corridor.

Alone again, I sat in the suffocating dark, every nerve on edge. My body was clean, but I’d never felt filthier. Whatever waited on the other side of that cover—I knew it wasn’t salvation.

.3

BENNETT

With little else to occupy my time, I found myself at a loss in my cage. I couldn’t fathom what I was waiting for, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that the Banties had essentially dressed me up like some sort of pet to be displayed. The sensation was dehumanizing to say the least. And instead of feeling thankful for clothes- albeit skimpy ones- for the first time in what might possibly be weeks, it was making me feel like an unwilling participant in some cruel game. One that was orchestrated by unseen puppeteers I had no interest in meeting.

Sleep remained a strange sort of comfort, the unforgiving floor offering little to help the aches I felt all over my body. Still, the ability to change positions and sit up provided some relief. I tried to cling to the few positive things I could find in a situation that seemed devoid of any silver linings.

As I continued to drift in and out of a restless slumber, I was jolted awake by the sound of the sheet being pulled away from my cage. To my astonishment, a new creature, utterly unlike the Banties in just about every way, was peering at me through the bars. These creatures stood at an imposing height that had to be at least seven feet tall, boasting ethereal, willowy bodies that appeared otherworldly upon first glance. Their skin was translucent, emitting a soft, shifting bioluminescent glow, reminiscent of glass as it catches the light. Their ovoid heads were crowned with delicate, feather-like appendages that swayed and ripple with a quiet humming noise. They seemed to be using those feathers to communicate to each other, the soft humming the result of quick pulsing shakes of the feathers as they spoke back and forth.

While I couldn’t discern any conventional form of eyes, I could tell that they were keenly aware of my every move, tracking even the subtlest twitch of my fingers by the way their heads tilted and their feathers twitched.

A blinding burst of light and a deafening boom caused my ears to ring as my cage was sent into motion, descending with a groan through the floor into a colossal, stadium-like room below. I cried out despite myself, clinging to the bars as my stomach rolled with the sensation of falling. It almost seemed as though I was in an invisible elevator shaft, moving down at a very rapid speed from the floor of one room through the ceiling and into a very loud and open space that must have been below me all along. The abrupt shift in my surroundings left me fairly overwhelmed and disoriented, but fear felt almost normal to me at this point. I hadn’t been anything but scared in weeks.

I flinched as a high-pitched keening noise pierced through my head, feeling like a thousand daggers against my frontal lobe. I dropped to the floor of my cage, hands clamped tightly over my ears in a desperate attempt to block out the cacophony. It was as if a multitude of different voices spoke all at once into my head, a chaotic and overwhelming symphony of sound that left me feeling as though my ears were on the verge of bleeding.

The cage finally reached the ground with a teeth rattling jerk and the new creatures with their feather crowns and eyeless faces, shifted into motion across the stage. Their willow bodies surrounding me quickly, with two standing on either side of my cage, while three more occupied the central pit of the vast arena. As far as my bewildered eyes could see, towering above me on every side, stretched a sea of creatures unlike anything I could have ever imagined, and I had thought after the past few weeks of insanity there couldn’t possibly be any more. The sheer spectacle took my breath away, as if it had been forcefully pulled from my lungs as I tried to calm myself by any means necessary.

Just a few weeks ago, the idea of this being my reality would have been deemed impossible, an absurdity that defied the limits of human understanding. Now, I found myself kneeling with the weight of it all, stunned and disoriented, at the apex of a new-age Roman colosseum, surrounded by thousands of creatures I had never fathomed could exist. They yipped and howled, chirped, and hummed, creating a bewildering symphony of alien languages that defied every logical thought I felt I had ever had. The world as I knew it had irrevocably changed that day I had woken up with a collar, yet this was the defining moment that seemed to plunge me into a reality that was beyond my wildest imagination. I didn’t know how much more I could take, I felt like I was scraping at the bottom of an empty barrel, my sanity all but tapped.

I teetered on the brink of fainting, my stomach churning with the urge to throw up, and an overwhelming desire to cry. The alien sounds surrounding me were both disorienting and deafening, a clamor of noise that felt as if they were being projected into my head from an unseen source. Yet, I saw nothing remotely resembling a speaker.

Beside my cage, a single holographic-like screen hovered next to the willowy beings, displaying strange symbols that flashed incessantly. Despite knowing my efforts were futile, I found myself struggling to make sense of the alien script; but of course comprehension remained elusive. The tooth-rattling sound of a buzzer cut through the chaotic bellow of the amphitheater, and in an instant, the cover was yanked back over my cage, plunging me back into darkness. It offered a brief reprieve from the bewildering spectacle, leaving me in an odd state of discomfort and fatigue as the adrenaline that had surged through me slowly tried to burn itself out of my system.

Things stayed dark for a long while, even after I felt the initial wobble of the cage lifting away from the floor of the arena and I had awoken and fallen asleep on several occasions. As I continued to dozed on and off in the darkness, the cage shifted multiple times, they were moving me somewhere it seemed, but I could do nothing about it.

The profound disorientation and nagging helplessness lingered, once again becoming constant companions in this surreal alien nightmare, all I could do was hope the next second wasn’t my last. So I slept, forcing myself to shut the world around me out in an attempt to remain sane.

Finally after ages my cage was uncovered, I squinted uncomfortably against the overly bright light of the room, finding myself in a place entirely unfamiliar from where I had spent the last few weeks. The dull grey walls that had become my monotonous reality were replaced by the stunning elegance of a dark monochrome stone chamber. The Banties were nowhere to be found. And neither were the willowy creatures with feather like antenna I had seen briefly in the colosseum. In this transformed space, a new species, elite and enigmatic, stood before me, radiating regality in every aspect. Their slender yet muscular bodies exuded superiority, their skin resembling mutant rock that fit perfectly with the marbled stone of the room. They seemed to be emitting a captivating and dangerous glow, similar yet much darker and moodier than the eyeless feather crowned aliens skin had glowed. Whereas the feathered aliens had looked almost like that of an iridescent crystal chandelier catching rays of sun, these creatures glowed like that of lava bumbling just under the surface of the earth, their light rolling and shifting just beneath the skin, reminding me of a lava lamp I had owned as a child.

Also unlike the feather head aliens these creature’s possessed two radiant yet colorless eyes deeply set into their heads and framed by sharp cheekbones. Elongated limbs moved gracefully, signaling an innate sense of power and control despite the fact their arms seemed to reach almost to their thin oddly shaped knees. Their ornate garments, crafted from advanced materials, draped their bodies like something out of the old stories of wizards and dragons, dark magic and trolls, kings and gallant knights protecting the realm from harm. It helped in accentuating their royal demeanor to say the least.

Still partially stunned, it took me a moment to realized I was now in the presence of my new owners. Before must have been an auction of sorts. I hadn’t wanted to assume, hated to consider that possibility I would be sold like livestock. Only now as I transitioned from the chaotic arena into a space where these elite beings didn’t even need to speak to assert their authority. I knew. Without a shadow of a doubt. I had been purchased from an auction by these ethereal beings, my new owners.

The space seemed almost devoid of sound as my new keepers pulled me from my cage. Despite my loud protest that seemed to resonate within the walls of the cavernous space, and my futile struggling, they did not hurt me, or shock me or even raise their voices at me. They were much larger than me, and easily maneuvered my very reluctant person, into a long thin room that almost resembled a human bathroom, but not. There they cleansed me, this time with a substance that actually resembling soap and water, a welcome departure from the suffocating foam the Banties has used. Though it was not welcome in the way they touched my body without my consent, on more than one occasion I had slapped creepily long probing fingers away from very intimate areas. Nothing was done in retaliation though, the creatures simply continued with their deep clean of my body, as if I had done nothing at all. It felt a little counterproductive to fight against the first real bath I had, had in ages, and one that I really did want at that, but it was unsettling how little they viewed me as a sentient being.

The jewels and thin cloth that had adorned me before my bath were replaced with long sheer slacks and a low-hanging crop top, both sheer and intricately designed. I felt pampered and squeaky clean as they pulled me from the bathroom down a bright grey marbled stone hallway and into another room with a long also stone looking table. Here they fed me real, albeit strange-looking, food for the first time in weeks.

Before me were regal-looking trays adorned with a mesmerizing array of colors, each dish displaying a diverse range of shapes and sizes. Intrigued to say the least, I couldn’t resist the temptation to sample everything before me, driven mainly by my hunger, but also admittedly by my curiosity. While none of the flavors quite mirrored those of Earthly cuisine, the dishes offered a spectrum of tastes – sweet, salty, bland, and even spicy.

Among the plethora of exotic foods, one stood out the most. I bit tentatively into an apple-like fruit that, to my surprise, burst into colorful flames upon contact with my tongue. The heat it unleashed did not physically burn me, though it rivaled that of a habanero pepper on the spicy scale despite being rather salty tasting. Needless to say it had quickly prompted me to gulp down water in an attempt to soothe the scalding burn that trailed down my throat. How something could look like a fruit, burst into flames and taste like biting into a salty pepper I would never know. I decided not to think too far into it, less my brain explode.

The water, seemingly ordinary in appearance, shimmered with a golden hue in the ambient light. Yet, its taste was far from ordinary – it was fresh, sweet, and revitalizing. Initially mistaking it for juice or wine, I soon discovered the true nature of the beverages around me when I took a long sip of the actual wine. The concoction sent my head spinning and my tongue tingling, the initial sweetness giving way to a fiery sensation that left me both intrigued and cautious. The intergalactic one man feast continued to unfold before me despite some off-putting flavors, each bite and sip seemed to further introduced me to the diverse and captivating flavors of the cosmos.

In the absence of cattle prods and confining cages, I found myself in a starkly different environment. Though my attire erred on the side of sheer, providing a glimpse of nearly everything, it marked the first time in weeks that I had even had any. My new custodians -The term “owner” felt a tad too demeaning, a slight sting to my already damaged pride, which had prompted me to adopt a more dignified moniker for them- whom I mentally dubbed volcanic aristocrats, seemed to abstain from any form of communication, or really sound in general, preferring instead to linger at the periphery of the room in a stoic silence.

The towering, dense walls seemed to possess an uncanny ability to swallow every sound, playing a disorienting game with my ears. My own breathing felt unnaturally amplified, resonating through the space as if I were exerting myself instead of simply sitting at a table. There wasn’t a glimpse of a window, no hint of natural light penetrating the enclosed space. Truth be told, I struggled to pinpoint an appropriate term for the imposing structure. Was it a fortress, a castle, or just a dwelling of some rich alien? A wave of uncertainty swept over me. Was this merely someone’s residence, or perhaps a spaceship traversing unknown galaxies? Or could it be an entirely different planet altogether? The mere contemplation of these possibilities seemed to hammer at my temples, brewing a headache. Regardless, the edifice bore an appearance as though it were meticulously polished and hewn directly from the heart of a colossal mountain.

For a stretch of time, the aristocrats appeared to have no immediate demands of me, allowing me to indulge myself until I could barely move, reduced to reclining in my stone seat, my abdomen distended as I gingerly rubbed it. A silent guardian, clad in a peculiar sort of light plating reminiscent of armor, stepped forward then and wordlessly escorted me through an unending corridor and led me to a room where I was then left to my own devices.

The space, unlike the opulence I had observed in other chambers, was neither expansive nor lavish, yet it afforded ample room for a bed and some functional furnishings. In comparison to the cramped cages that had confined me for weeks, this room felt remarkably vast and I almost felt thankful to the point of tears. The bed itself consisted of a stone platform, adorned with a gray mat reminiscent of a thin Japanese futon, accompanied by a solitary pillow and neatly folded blanket atop it, in the back of my mind I knew it was nothing fancy, plain and probably even a bit lacking if they had considered me a guest. But all I felt was happy as I rolled myself onto the cushion and crushed my face into the scentless pillow, thankful I had one again. The blanket wrapped snugly around me as I wiggled with barely contained glee.

Despite the room’s comforts and the weariness pulling at my eyes after consuming so much food, I found myself wide awake for hours after settling in to my new dig. Try as I might, I couldn’t shake the fear that at any moment something would come through the door to my new room and rip all my newfound comforts away from me, I would be thrown back in that tiny cage, a bucket of my own feces and an iron collar my only companions on the cold floor. When I finally did find sleep, it was haunted by chirps and cattle prods as foam pressed in on me from every side.

.4

BENNETT

I was beginning to think myself a bit on the slow side. It took me literal days to grasp the stark reality of my new predicament—I was being groomed for servitude. However, the predators in this scenario were an alien race well-versed in the art of buying and selling luxury commodities. Living, luxury commodities. At my age, one would think falling for the lost-puppy-and-van act would be embarrassing. Still, I couldn’t say that was what this was, I hadn’t fallen for any trick, only gotten lost on a mountain really. Dumb in its own right, but it didn’t exactly warrant being kidnapped. Spacenapped?

Still, I recognized similarities to what escorts and sex workers endured when they went through training. Lessons were conveyed in silence sure, leaving me baffled about how these aristocrats communicate amongst themselves, but they were lessons all the same. The absence of overt communication wasn’t necessarily better than being talked about like I wasn’t in the room, but it could be worse. I could hear and understand the shitty things they were saying about me. It was almost better not knowing, even if I was beyond confused half the time. And don’t get me wrong, it certainly made things like saying no or don’t touch hard to convey, but even if he had been able to communicate his disdain it seemed unlikely the aristocrats would care.

‘Aristocrat’ no longer seemed fitting for their species as a whole. It was evident they maintained a hierarchical structure. There were unmistakable guards—tall, lean figures clad in lightweight armor, wielding long staffs akin to spears. The house workers resembled apparitions, reminiscent of butlers or slaves, flitting about in the background clad in plain monochromatic tunics. Then there were the overseers, whom I bitterly referred to as this species version of an ‘extraterrestrial pimps.’ I harbored a profound dislike for them above all else of their kind. With their ostentatious, vivid robes and excessive jewelry. They spent hours dressing me up like I was some kind of tall, sending their worker bee’s to and fro, procuring a variety of silks and jewels. A mere nod from them set the workers into motion without a sound, dressing me in a million different fabrics, styling my hair despite its stubborn habit to bounce right back where it wanted to be, trimming my and cleaning my nails for what seemed like the thousandth time, and poking and prodding just about every crevice of my body till it was to their liking.

During one distressing instance when I had finally lashed out, slapping away a worker’s hand that was attempting to shave me in an area that I absolutely did not want foreign hands or a blade, the situation had escalated quickly and had been halted just as swiftly. I found myself held down by a guard while the worker resumed their task—everywhere. The humiliation was compounded by the scrutinizing gaze of the pimps, who either approved of the butler’s work or, god forbid if it wasn’t to their liking. Subjected me to the ordeal repeatedly until they were satisfied. The appalling lack of humanity in their treatment was unsettling, I didn’t think they saw me as sentient, but as like a badly behaved pet of sorts. I felt reduced to a small, feisty dog, barking and biting, only to be picked up and maneuvered at the guard’s discretion to appease the whims of the pimps.

Days passed like that, in a monotonous routine of montone stone as far as the eye could see, drowning in sheer fabrics and jewelry I had no interest seeing on my body. Despite dedicating numerous days dodging guards, and mapping out the building’s maybe long endless hallways, I couldn’t locate any door leading outside or a window signaling a possible exit. Going home seemed like a distant daydream I had simply made up to pass the time. My reality was a deep monotone grey, and I didn’t know how much longer I could fight the emotions pressing down on me. The anxiety was squeezing the life from me.

They made sure to feed me regularly, almost excessively, to restore my body from the gaunt, emaciated state I had been in when captured by the Bantys, transforming me slowly into a toned, healthy-looking individual. I underwent a meticulous grooming regimen, from bathing to oiling and moisturizing to plucking and waxing, until my skin gleamed, smooth, and tanned without a single blemish every night before bed. The attire they selected for me primarily consisted of sheer or barely-existent outfits, hinting at some preparation for something I vehemently refused to partake in. Despite the absence of direct communication, I made my stance on the matter very clear, causing chaos and mischief whenever I could. But even I was growing tired of the act, and every day it became more obvious the pimps knew it to.

Even so my defiance earned me the evident disdain of the guards and houseworkers. Whenever I wasn’t sneaking off or pilfering food, I was working out, much to their displeasure. They desired me soft, compliant, and fragrant, not muscular, sweaty, and toned. I always seemed to have someone watching me, which made it my personal mission to evade their constant surveillance, though it grew increasingly difficult with each passing day. Despite my knack for troublemaking, no one laid into on me like the Bantys had; I must have been considered too valuable to be physically harmed, a thought that embittered me almost every second of the day.

I was letting that fact embolden me now, as I actively hid from the sound of rushing feet echoing down the corridor. My hiding place behind a marble column was a bit lackluster in creativity, but it got the job done. I was skirting my afternoon lessons. To be honest they were my least favorite and usually involved kneeling in silence until the evening meal. Anytime I moved or made to stand a guard would place me back into position with my legs beneath me, butt perched on the soles of my feet and hands palms up on each of my thighs. It be honest it was one of my least invasive “lessons”, but seemed to be the one I hated most. The silence seemed to get to me the most when I was kneeling, when I wasn’t allowed to so much as drop my chin to my chest or breath to loudly. Somehow it also felt the most belittling, being trained to sit silently for hours until I was called upon had me grinding my teeth even now as I pressed tightly to the cold stone at my back. Sliding almost silently in the opposite direction of the footsteps.

Usually I tried to keep my acting out to a minimum, pick and choose your battles as they say, but something about today’s atmosphere had my stomach in knots and I planned to listen to that feeling.

My caretakers had disrupted my sleep earlier than their norm for starters. Typically, they didn’t enter my room until the dusky dimness of the artificial night had fully transitioned to morning light. But today, I was up before the lights even grew dim. They’d bathed me in warm, milky water that left me smelling pleasant and my skin radiant which wasn’t so out of the norm, if you left out the fact that they only bathed me after the evening meal. After my bath they hastily served me a tray of food and tried to groom my mousy brown curls away from my face, but as usual my now grown-out undercut proved bothersome, with the lengthy locks flopping over my eyes and tickling my neck. It was one of the only reason I knew I had been gone for quite a while. My hair didn’t grow very fast. After a rushed breakfast that never before had taken place in my room, they had then dressed me in the typical sheer outfit that accentuated the green hues in my hazel eyes before rushing me into the main hall to start my morning lessons.

The rest of my morning and even my midday meal went by in a similar, stunted fashion until I had seized a moment when no one was watching to get away from it all.

Now, as the frantic search for me unfolded, I crouched, concealed behind another column as I inched my way down the hall, feeling like a mischievous child. The intensity of their pursuit seemed more desperate than ever before and I knew I had been right that today was important for them for some reason.

Finally after a while of sneaking that put even double O seven to shame, I finally saw why.

Coming around the corner, trailed by an a group of pimps was a creature that made my keepers seem more like beggars than aristocrats. The way they seemed to fill such a giant space was a feat all its own, but the way they seemed to command attention with a soft level tone of voice was almost hypnotic. This being eclipsed every other presence in the room with a look alone. Exuding an air of importance that rendered their followers mere shadows in comparison. Its appearance was a convergence of ethereal elegance and untamed wildness’, a testament to their obviously otherworldly origin.

Atop its head sat sleek shaggy black hair that was tousled in an unkempt yet stylish manner. The shorter strands melded into longer, artfully braided locks at the nape of its neck. Intricate small jewels were interwoven within the braid, catching the light and casting an ethereal glimmer with each movement. While reminiscent of Homo sapiens at first glance, this being possessed a uniqueness that veered far from earthly resemblances. Its face, while humanoid, seemed to transcend the conventions of any known race, marked by the sharp, pointed ears atop its head that subtly hinted at an ancient lineage distinctly non-human.

Their eyes, a bewitching shade of piercing yellow reminiscent of a predatory feline, held an otherworldly intensity that seemed to pierce even stone. The presence of fangs, just grazing the beings lower lip, contributed to the aura of danger that emanated from them as they walked the great stone hall like they owned it.

Clad in opulent attire crafted from thick, dark golden fabric, ornately embroidered with ethereal designs that defied earthly comparisons, they were a vision of regality. Adorned with a ring on each finger, each piece heavy with shimmering jewels that glinted with hues of red and gold, the ensemble perfectly matched the resplendent golden crown atop their head, elevating their already majestic presence. A long, sinuous tail equally as black as their hair, reminiscent of a feline like creature of the wild, extended from the base of their spin and out from between the many fabrics of their robes. Its movements were fluid, swaying behind them with an innate grace akin to that of a predator, its tip occasionally flicking in a controlled yet mesmerizing rhythm. The creatures hands, appearing human at first glance, boasted large claws reminiscent of a jungle cat at the tips each of its long fingers.

I couldn’t deny the captivating allure of this thing, this male—and he was a man, despite being so different from the conventional human standard of beauty, he was undeniably striking and undeniably male. And at his side walked an equally beautiful but very unique creature of the same species.

Standing at a towering height of seven feet, yet somehow a few inches shorter than his dark-haired companion, with coloring akin to the majestic snow leopard in the hue of his ears and tail. The royals creatures companion cut an imposing silhouette, thick and brawny, unlike his leaner counterpart. His long, unruly, ash colored locks cascaded freely down his neck, distinct from his partner’s neatly styled braids. The wild texture of his curls added an untamed quality to his appearance. While his companion exuded a lethal and sophisticated aura, this figure’s power felt more rugged and inherently protective. It was evident they were close. One exuded strength, flashiness, and a clear sense of authority, while the other emanated an aura of quiet strength and unwavering determination. They complimented each other well.

Emerald-green eyes, sharp and perceptive, fit the figure’s grey hair and distinct features, hinting at an intelligence that matched his evident physical strength. Those eyes locked onto me like bird dog on a fowl, laser accurate focus zoomed into the spot where I observed quietly in the shadows. An almost silent gasp of surprise escaped me as our eyes locked, and I quickly ducked behind the pillar, hoping the emerald eyed warrior alien hadn’t actually seen me and the entourage would pass me by unnoticed—unfortunately, they did not.

The soft growls and hushed purrs that followed, though foreign to my ears after the prolonged silence from the aristocrats, held an unsettling undertone as it grew closer. I made to take off down the hallway knowing then that the gig was up, but felt a strong, firm grip seize me by the back of my neck.

With a squeak I was lifted from my crouched position behind the pillar. Now suddenly face to face with the being possessing deep green eyes and very long, sharp fangs, it became abundantly clear that the creature, the more protective one, had indeed spotted me and was now communicating something—not directly to me per say, but to his golden eyed partner about me. The feline-like pupils shifted back and forth, occasionally focusing on me, as if sizing up my threat level, despite the clear physical disparity-my 5′10″ stature paled in comparison to their towering 7-foot frames, and even with my working out I was lacking the muscular build, claws, and fangs of my very irritated looking captors. I was hardly a threat to anyone, except maybe myself.

Despite knowing it was futile I thrashed about helplessly, my feet barely skimming the floor as the ash colored alien effortlessly restrained me by the back of my neck. The feel of his thick clawed thumb so close to my jugular only had my relentless kicks growing more frantic as I attempted to break free of his hold on me.

The gathered crowd remained stoic, including the tall, lean guard who was supposed to be keeping watch over me this afternoon. Distinguishing the guards from each other was a bit difficult as they often wore matching armor and headgear, but I recognized this specific one by the shade of its right eye—grey instead of the usual dark hue- through the slits in its headgear.

The aristocrats, who had been stoically trailing the feline-like aliens, seemed visibly displeased at the sight of me. Even amidst the feline beings’ communicating in their own language, the aristocrats maintained their silence. I did however, noticed the grey-haired alien tightening its grip around my neck, the things neck hairs bristling, indicating its growing irritation toward the leading aristocrat. So they must have been communicating somehow, just not in a way I could comprehend.

I had grown weary of attempting to assign names for differentiation, but I could identify this particular pimp in front of me by his preference for large sleeves and dark-colored robes, within which he’d almost always fold his gangly hands with his unnaturally long fingers as he stood with his arms crossed.

The aristocrat’s gaze was fixed on me, burning a whole into the side of my head. And even now his hands were once again in his sleeves. And despite his silence it was his eyes, which resembled molten lava, and expressed a desire to boil me alive if given the chance. Those eyes told me exactly what I needed to know. Id paid for this later, most definitely.

It was clear that the two feline-like aliens before me held some significance, but I was honestly disinterested in how how much or even why. I wanted nothing to do with this situation. My priority was still to search and find an escape route from this colossal stone labyrinth I was trapped in. At that thought and with a huff of frustration, I ceased my pointless struggling, opting instead to cross my arms and hang irritably from the grey-haired alien’s grasp.

The aliens deliberated above me despite my internal debate and so I was forced to wait impatiently to be released, more than a little eager to take off again once I was free. I found myself torn between feelings of safety and a bailing warning in the back of my head screaming at me to get away.

While I wasn’t particularly afraid of the aristocrats, their robotic and lifeless demeanor towards me always had me uneasy. Their stoic and detached manner created an eerie sense of loneliness, amplified by the resounding silence surrounding me. I was surprised I hadn’t gone even more insane than I already felt. Trapped within the endless labyrinth of this stone prison, I once again felt the pressing urgency to find an escape route before the aristocrats decided to sell me off and I ended up even farther from home than I already was. At the same time the unfamiliarity of this new species posed a myriad of dangerous unknowns. If the aristocrats handed me over to them, I was uncertain about what fate awaited me in their hands and that was almost worse than the unknown of staying in the labyrinth.

I just couldn’t let that happen, I had to get away and hide till things blew over. The guards never really chased even when they pursued me; they simply followed slowly with impatient expressions, their skin illuminating a trail as they moved which made it easy to disappear in all the dark corners of stone the labyrinth provided.

To my relief my feet finally made contact with the ground, and the conversation amongst the aliens continued. Feeling that my presence was inconsequential to their ongoing and verbally one sided debate, I turned to walk away shaking off the hand on my pulse as I did so. However, the grip the green eyed cat had on the back of my neck tighten almost painfully, jerking me back into place as the yellow-eyed feline emitted a low growl, baring his sharp fangs in a manner that I perceived as a very real, very scary threat. No shared language necessary.

Alarmed, I scurried back, and in a split-second decision, sought refuge in the arms of the green eyed alien behind me. Better the devil you knew I suppose, at least the claws on my neck hadn’t punctured skin and in the moment claw seemed safer than fangs. But it was a hasty decision. Too late, I felt the unyielding hold of the grey alien’s arms, enveloping me like a cage and lifting me from the ground once again. I now found myself pressed against the grey cat’s broad chest, with the thick, lengthy tail coiling around my shoulder and draping across the base of my throat. It looped around the back of my neck it was so long, the tip flicking lightly every few minutes, serving as a substitute for the hand that had previously held me in place and tickling my ear as it did so.

As I found myself ensnared in the embrace of the green-eyed feline-like alien, my eyes darted nervously towards the yellow-eyed counterpart. Their unspoken conversation seemed to have the aristocrats tense, leaving me to wonder about the cryptic exchange happening between the two. Caught between their unknown intentions, I sighed softly, realizing that my hopes for escape were momentarily shelved in the grasp of these beautiful alien predators. With a mix of apprehension and determination, I settled in, for now, watching the two felines exchange what felt like coded messages right before my eyes.

.5

BENNETT

I wasn’t long in the felines embrace before I was placed back onto my feet and into the clutches of my very displeased looking guard. In the midst of the impromptu gathering, one of the more extravagantly styled aristocrats pivoted gracefully, their ornate attire shimmering with jeweled embellishments. The subtle rustle of luxurious fabrics accompanied the turn, and in the ensuing silence, my guards long-fingered grip clamped even more firmly onto my arm than it had been before. A jolt of unease shot through me as I found myself swiftly guided away from the assembly. The main hallway loomed ahead, its dimly lit expanse an ominous path leading to an uncertain destination. With each hurried step, the anticipation of impending events cast over me like a heavy weight and as I was ushered into the study, the setting for my evening lessons, a palpable sense of foreboding settled even deeper into my marrow. The air in the room seemed charged with an unspoken tension, and I could tell that the trajectory of events was taking a troubling turn for me.

The lesson chamber, with its unyielding stone construction, emanated an atmosphere devoid of warmth or sentiment. The walls, devoid of any adornments, bore the unmistakable marks of craftsmanship, telling tales of skilled hands carving them into existence, despite the blandness of their artistry. Suspended from the ceiling with strategic precision, artificial lights cast a consistent glow, enveloping the space in a constant, albeit artificial, radiance. However, despite the pervasive illumination, I found myself constantly seeking out the solace of natural light, yearning for the presence of windows that would bring a touch of the outside world into this otherwise austere chamber. The absence of those portals to the exterior left the room feeling somewhat sterile, lacking the connection to the world beyond its stone confines that I so deeply craved.

At the core of the chamber, settees were arranged to create a central gathering space. These stone-carved benches, not inherently designed for comfort, were adorned with generous cushions and vibrant fabrics piled high to compensate. The plush accouterments served a dual purpose—infusing a hint of opulence into the cool stone environment while offering a soft perch for those observing what they dubbed as my “lessons.”

I had hardly made it three steps into the room before I was brought down to my knees so hard my teeth clacked together. As I struggled to regain my footing, a sense of disorientation and confusion overwhelmed me. Attempting to voice my objection to this severe punishment for a mere attempt to bypass a guard—a deed I had accomplished before without resistance—I found myself repeatedly forced onto my knees. My protests were abruptly cut short as my guard briefly entered my field of vision, at which point he pushed a black leather strap between my lips and fastened the buckle around the back of my head. I let out a startled and ashamed cry as I tried to remove the leather from my mouth and stand up, only to be forcefully shoved back into place once more.

The faint sound of them entering had been drowned out by the sound of anger rushing in my ears. But now as my face burned and my eyes blurred with tears of bitterness I refused to let fall I could hear them as clearly as I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. The desire to cry, to scream, and to throw a fit at my mistreatment swirled within me, but it seemed that all my protests fell on deaf ears. As I sat in turmoil, on the opposite side of the opulent chamber bathed in the glow of artificial lights I was coming to detest more every second, the group of regal figures gathered once again. I remained their captive audience, pushed off to the side like disregarded inconvenience.

The aristocrats, with their stoic and regal presence, reclined on their lavish stone benches, each one a masterpiece of craftsmanship. Draped in rich fabrics and adorned with jewels, I had initially thought the aristocrats were exquisite upon first seeing them, but now I felt they only looked somewhat ridiculous grandstanding in the presence of actual royalty. The new alien species before me, with their sleek elegance and feral grace stood unmatched by anything else in the room. They lounged in the midst of the aristocratic gathering, as if this was their home and they were not merely visitors. Their presence, exotic and predator in nature, commanded an attention and respect I had never felt toward the aristocrats.

I attempted to rise once more, but a firm grip on the back of my neck kept me in place as I shot a menacing glare up at the towering guard. My gaze flickered between their regal postures and the intricate patterns on the stone floor until my line of sight somehow fell to and locked with the felines across the room, more accurately the ash colored pain in my ass. As much as a part of me yearned to lay the blame solely on him for my current predicament, deep down, I understood that the majority of it was my own doing. After all, he hadn’t compelled me to ditch my guard; he merely revealed my hiding place.

Snitch, I couldn’t help but think bitterly as I glared into his deep green cat eyes. And for a moment I thought I saw mirth swirl back at me, as if despite the language barrier and a million other things between us he knew exactly what I was thinking. The weight of the hand on my neck severed my gaze, disrupting my train of thought as a suffocating feeling enveloped me. The guard tightened his grip, persistently pressing my face toward the cold stone below, forcing my chest into my knees. Saliva pooled in my mouth, dampening the leather of the gag and leaving an unpleasant chemical taste. It seemed my glaring had become a bit too conspicuous for the aristocrats’ comfort.

I watched in mortification as drool slowly dripped from my parted lips and onto the cold stone floor below. My face grew even hotter, and if possible, I felt my anger deepen into rage. I struggled against the tight grip on me, growling through my gag as my guard’s spindly fingers roughly jerked my arms away from my face and behind my back. He pressed them up and in so forcefully that I was almost bent completely in half, with my chest to my knees and my face hovering only inches from the floor. The tears came freely, falling fast, hard and against my will. Mingling with my saliva on the cold stone below.

So far, I had heard nothing of the conversation going on in front of me, too busy fuming to pay much attention. However, the low, deep growl that reverberated through the room in response to my low, shallow sobs had my muscles quivering with an emotion I couldn’t quite place. At the same time, whatever that growl meant in their strange alien tongue prompted the guard to release his grip on my arms. With a gasping breath, I jerked them to my chest, cradling my wrists in front of me as if to protect them from any more sudden onslaughts of force, though I doubted it would stop a thing. The urge to rip the gag from between my lips surged within me, but I refrained, scared it would only return me to my previous predicament. I found my freedom of movement more sacred than the humiliation of my mouth piece in that moment, but the growing shame and discomfort was still there. Bubbling below the surface of my skin so strongly I felt it must have come alive, like a snake coiling and twisting just below my outer membrane and fighting for a way out. Though, in the dim glow of artificial light it was fairly impossible to tell.

Another low growl, though not as powerful as its predecessor, hummed throughout the cavernous stone space. I found myself looking up, despite my better judgement shouting against it in the back of my mind, and into the deep green eyes of the exotic warrior-like alien who had been my downfall to begin with. His dark-haired companion leaned into his ear as I watched them—both their gazes never wavering from my own—and spoke softly and firmly, too low for me to hear from this distance. I knew it was doubtful I would have understood anyhow, but it left me curious. As I continued to watch them move in sync together, almost unnatural in their agility, it came to me that there was nothing particularly natural about them to begin with. Despite their almost earthly feline features, they were still unlike anything I had ever seen. The warrior nodded once, a sharp confirming jerk of his chin that satisfied the princely alien. The latter went back to his discussion, leaving his warrior to do as he bid.

The ash-colored warrior’s gaze drew me in, his emerald eyes holding an inexplicable allure that transcended the strange circumstances. The play of shadows on his fur added an air of mystery to his already unearthly presence. As his long-clawed hand gestured me forward, I caught a glimpse of the light glinting from the knife strapped to his side, a part of me knew the sight should have spread fear through me, but all I saw was an opportunity. The rock-carved bench, on which he sat like a potentate in his own right, seemed both imposing and inviting, adorned with cushions that hinted at both comfort and opulence. There was a moment when hesitation was expected, where a careful consideration of choices and potential consequences should have occurred. Yet, an unspoken understanding seemed to guide me, compelling me to bridge the gap between apprehension and curiosity. In that fleeting instant, the decisions that should have held weight melted away, and I found myself back where I had started – drawn by an inexplicable force that seemed to defy reason and beckon me into the embrace of the unknown.

He accepted me into his arms so readily I almost wondered why he had set me down to begin with. As he pressed my face into his warm, dense chest, long claws, both frightening and oddly comforting, delicately tangled in the curls at the base of my neck. The warmth of him provided a stark contrast to the cold, unyielding stone of the room. His purr, a deep and rhythmic vibration, echoed against my cheek, creating a lulling effect that had my mind going blank.

As the gag was gently removed from my mouth and tossed away I felt an odd vulnerability, the silence of the room loud behind the hum against me. The clink of the buckle hitting the floor caused an involuntary flinch to run through me, and the weight of all the eyes on the room being on me grew almost unbearable, but it was quickly soothed by the large hand splayed across the width of my back,its touch firm yet strangely reassuring, served as an anchor. A distraction. The complex emotions coursing through me—relief, confusion, vulnerability—were drowned by his presence. I knew crawling into the lap of an alien species about which I knew nothing was bound to stir conflicting emotions within me. There lingered a sense of shame, an awareness that this creature could potentially inflict harm or humiliation akin to what I had experienced only moments ago. Yet, an undeniable ease washed over me—an unfamiliar comfort that I hadn’t felt in weeks. The internal struggle to resist this newfound solace became less appealing, and, in that moment, I questioned if I even desired to resist it at all.

As the alien meeting unfolded, my attention wavered between the one sided discussions with the aristocrats and the soothing vibrations of the warrior’s purring beneath me. The rhythm seemed to create a lulling melody, almost hypnotic in nature. Despite the tension lingering in the air, I found my eyes growing heavy, the persistent purring acting as a gentle lullaby. The sound of the princely aliens low and soothing voice became distant murmurs, and the cool stone and warm body beneath me transformed into a surprisingly comfortable bed. The struggle to stay alert gradually surrendered to the embrace of drowsiness, and I allowed myself to succumb to the rhythmic cadence, drifting into a semi-conscious state amidst the peculiar blend of alien politics and feline-like comfort.

.6

BENNETT

Since coming to the aristocrats I had rarely had a decent night of sleep. If I was being completely honest I hardly felt as though I had left that crapped cage in that to crowded room. My sleep was often filled with the clink of a heavy iron collar and the phantom pain of electricity being stabbed into my side. My nap, if I had to guess by the dimness of the lights around me, had been devoid of any of that. I had slept soundly and so deeply I hadn’t even felt myself being moved.

The room I woke up in now was grandiose, boasting a sprawling hot spring large enough to fit at least ten comfortably at its center. In one corner of the room, a lounge area boasted comfy looking chairs and a round table adorned with an assortment of delectable treats that had become an irresistible craving for me, since coming here. On the opposite side loomed a colossal stone slab bed were I was currently downing under a pile of luxuriously blankets, pillows and furs. A long light grey fabric cascading from the ceiling and around the bed. The fabric seemed to provide a semblance of privacy within the open-concept space, adding an element of seclusion to the part of the chamber dedicated to sleeping. Thick steam billowed from the pool in the center of the room, making the air heavy and the ambiance mysterious.

Thick long claws rasped softly through my overgrown curls, and despite the unusual circumstances, I wasn’t shocked to find the green eyed warrior lounging next to me. Nor did I resist the way his tail playfully brushing over my neck and ears in what felt like a gesture of affection or amusement. However it did take me a moment to realize that the raven-haired feline was also with us on the bed, looming closely over my shoulder from behind me. It was his touch I had felt on my scalp, a soothing yet terrifying feeling of lethal claws grazing my skin, enough to feel but not enough to hurt.

It occurred to me then, as I pulled myself from the throws of my sleep, that I was alone in the room with these two completely unfamiliar and obviously dangerous creatures. There was no aristocrat in sight, no one to intervene if these predators decided to unleash their sharp claws upon my softer more defenseless body. I quickly found myself trying to detangle my suddenly gangly limbs from the mass of blankets and the alien creatures they were entangled with.

Surprisingly, the felines released me without any resistance. The dark haired one’s thick claws lazily fell to its side on the bed as the warriors tail unwound itself from my throat. His tail then swished slowly across the canopy draped around the large bed before settling behind its strangely shaped feet in a relaxed state.

They caught my attention momentarily, the way they were reminiscent of the back paws of a large predator I had only witnessed behind a glass enclosure was fascinating to me. The interest died quickly though, when my gaze shot up and locked with those striking emerald eyes. They were fixated on me just as the big cats behind the gas would have been, and as I moved downward and off the bed, putting the lounge chair between myself and both of the feline like creatures as efficiently as I was able to, I didn’t feel as though his interest was far from that of his large car look alike.

They wanted to eat me.

The intensity of their gazes still mirrored that of a cat calculating the pounce, as I worked to grow the distance between me and the bed. My chest felt tight from the pressure of it, and I found myself holding my breath, anticipating an attack that never came.

Instead, the green eyed one turned toward his prince with the sleek, ebony coat and they engaged like they were having a conversation, the chuffs and purrs low as if they were afraid I would overhear and understand. The darker colored alien affectionately curled and uncurled his tail around the other’s legs as they communicated. He then made an affirmative noise, and without any further sound, not even the padding of large feet and claws against the floor, the grey colored warrior rose from the bed and positioned himself, facing the room’s entrance, as if he meant to stand watch.

While the dark-haired figure exuded regal splendor with opulent jewels and a resplendent golden robe cascading elegantly, the other’s attire leaned towards practicality. His ensemble consisted of long, billowing dark trousers, seemingly lightweight and designed for ease of movement, with cinched cuffs at the bottom of each leg. A sturdy, thick waistband sat above where a typical human’s navel would be. Across the warriors chest was draped a dark fabric that trailed under one arm, its extra fabric gracefully falling along his back and trailing the ground.

I found myself pondering the differences in anatomy between this species and myself, aside from the claws and hind quarters, I noticed they shared a number of physical traits like my own. They had an abdomen, ribs, a chest with two nipples, two legs and two arms with a neck and a head a bit larger than the average human and distinctly alien, but they felt familiar in form.

My eyes caught a previously unnoticed and very long knife strapped to the warriors right hip. The knife appeared formidable, broad at the hilt and tapering into a pointed edge, one side smooth while the other curved with serrations. Tied securely to his hip by a bone handle, it complemented the dagger that I had noticed earlier, which was still fastened to his right bicep.

He was not adorned with ostentatious jewelry like his companion, and the only ornament he seemed willing to wear was a black choker, and suspending from it a single golden gem that matched the color of his raven colored partner’s eyes perfectly. The colors they wore must have held a sort of significance for them, I figured, otherwise why would he wear it at all when he didn’t seem like the type.

The alien with the dark coloring moved to approach me now, a predatory grace about him that resembled something all around foreign and dangerous as he closed in on me. An old childhood story flashed through my head as he moved, ever the dark-coated panther, stalking me stealthily through the jungle underbrush with silent footsteps.I stumbled clumsily backward despite myself, my steps faltering until my back met the wall. The nearby table teetered precariously as I brushed past it, threatening to spill it’s tempting array of dishes.

With each step, the layers of fabrics seemed to shed from the approaching figure until he was left clad only in golden trousers, similar in design to his companion’s dark colored ones. The sight was momentarily distracting, a broad muscular chest with a single pierced nipple, said nipple was not a dusky pink like my own, but dark in color like the rest of him, fur covered their entire body it seemed, though longer in some places and short and fine in others. I jerked at the realization that I shouldn’t be staring so hard when I had nowhere to go but sideways if I wished to avoid being pinned against the wall. My sense of entrapment grew as the beast closed in with every step. Giving into my based instincts to flee I juked to the left, trying and failing to remain out of reach as the prince snatched me up.

The scene was chaotic to say the least, my attempts to evade the feline-like alien’s grasp were futile, and a struggle ensued. My desperate kicks and screams did little to deter the dark-haired creature, who ripped my flimsy clothing from my body without a second thought. Stripped bare faster than I could process, my cries grew more frantic, and I struck the dark-haired alien with a fierce blow across the face, eliciting a hiss of displeasure. Before I could strike again, the guardian intervened, seizing my wrist and wrenching it painfully, causing me to cry out in agony as the motion put strain on my already sore shoulder.

All movements halted then, the look on their faces almost surprised as if they didn’t expect a noise like that to come out of their new toy. Tears fell unbidden down my face as the two beings conversed hurriedly in that same foreign tongue, a mix of hissing, growling, chirps that felt like a fusion of overly vocal kittens and unrecognizable words being thrown back and forth above my head.

I found myself being lifted then by the same green eyed alien who had held me before, and hoisted into the warm pool at the center of the room. Embraced by the powerful physique that should have felt like the iron bars of the cage I had slept in for weeks. I didn’t know how I felt being in them now, but the water offered solace from the cold labyrinth as I was pulled into its depths.

My relief was short-lived though as large sharp claws touched my shoulders from behind, making me flinch in fear as I was turned so that my back was now against the warriors chest. In the same instant the dark haired king’s claws trailed up my leg from the front. When he had waded into the pool myself I had no clue, nor did I want him here. Touching me after what he and his alien friend had forced upon me. My shoulder throbbed with the thought alone and I bared my teeth as a result.

“Don’t touch me.” I snapped, jerking away from the warrior and going to smack the golden eyed aliens hands away from my body in the same instance. Unfortunately the green eyed warrior had other plans, stopping me before I could successfully get even a single hit on his precious princes face. He seemed to encompass me completely then, covering my hands with both of his own much larger ones and pulling them into the water. I was left to squirm nervously against his damp chest, leaned almost horizontally back in the water, as the raven haired royal at my front pulled my floating knees apart and pushed between my legs, his thick waist wide enough that my hips struggled to fit then. The aliens purred then, deep and low as the prince traced razor sharp claws along the outsides of my thighs, pressing his abdomen into my complete soft and floating member.

Their skin though dusky in color looked hairless at first glance but pressed against it me, thought it felt like thick velvet. Not quite skin at all, but almost like an extension of their thick coats. It was lighter in color across their chest and abdominals but faded into its true color at the tips of their fingers, from mid thigh down to their catlike feet and from their shoulders across their backs to where it met with the longer ridged hair along their spines. Only their face seemed to be truly hairless, though it was clear they could grow facial hair by the feel of the green eyed ones stubble along my jaw and the golden eyed ones lips along my abdominal muscles. I lurched again. Bucking to free myself from their grasps on me, which only seemed to encourage the golden eyed one by the way his fangs flashed in the dimming light.

I felt like hurling at the idea of those fangs sinking into my skin, but they never did and despite my struggles, neither alien hurt me like they had done before. Initially it had throbbed something fierce and I knew within the hour a bruise would form in the shape of a hand around the small of my wrist, but now that I was in the water, the pain felt faint not only in the place where the bruise would be but also in my shoulder. Where I had felt the jerking motion the most.

A long rough tongue lapped at my chest, jerking me from my throughs and I looked down to see the raven haired alien tasting along my peck’s and down my flexing stomach.

“What are you doing?” I asked almost frantic as I squirmed, the warrior still held my hands below the water so that I lay poised, almost floating along the surface as the golden eyed prince toyed with my chest. I bucked my hips in retaliation as that rough cat like tongue circled my naval with a lazy purr from the jungle cat between my legs.

“Stop it.” I snapped, as shivers of pleasure raced up my spine unbidden.

“I don’t like it. Stop.” I repeated, flashing my teeth and gums in what I hoped was a warning for the alien to back off. They did for a moment, sharp vivid golden eyes with slitted pupils watching me curiously before darting behind my head to look at his companion.

Their dynamic puzzled me. Despite the obvious authority exuded by the dark haired alien before me, there were moments when he’d cast a glance towards his warrior companion, almost akin to a monarch’s seeking counsel from an advisor. At the same time their mannerisms almost seemed more than that at time. It wasn’t quite friendly, though it was obvious they had been for some time, and it wasn’t quite like lovers, yet they seemed so intune with each other, like two sides of the same coin moving in sync at all time.

I watched it now, breathing hard as the golden eyed royal’s dark lupine ears swiveled and flicked atop his head almost in reply to his warrior. Whatever recommendation he got from the alien at my back had him flash his fangs right back at me, the little helpless human between them. The display felt almost playfully in nature, despite my very much feeling scared at seeing the sharps rows of teeth in the aliens mouth.

He eventually withdrew from between my thighs, leisurely making his way to the pool’s edge. Briefly disappearing, he reappears, holding an oddly shaped metallic orange lump that seems to transform into a whipped cream-like substance as he manipulates it between his clawed fingers. The smell wasn’t overpowering, but faintly like pine and something sweet almost like vanilla but missing something I can’t quite name. I squirm nervously as both aliens begin to rub the substance along my neck, exposed back and the wild mousy curls atop my head.

A burning sensation in my left eye has me crying out and rubbing at my face frantically, which in turn only seems to make things worse for me. The warrior grabs me by my nape without warning and I yelped in fear as I am essentially waterboarded in an attempt to forcefully splash the creamy orange tinted soap from my eyes and hair. Long fingers rub against my face and neck frantically until my whimpers of pain turn into titters of laughter induced by the ticklish sensation of their touch.

Strong fingers ghost over the damp skin of my face, the warrior taking a bit longer than necessary to inspect the reddened state of my eye, but both aliens seem to relax at the sound of my mirth and proceed with the responsibility of cleaning me. They purr and chuff at me as they kneed and rub every inch of my body, the sensations almost overwhelming between both of their broad frames.

Both sets of hands on me should scare me, their claws are sharp and obviously not for show, but both aliens seem to be especially careful not to hurt me. And despite my obvious discomfort at being naked with strange creatures, I feel the betrayal of my body in full force as my shaft slowly begins to grow hard between my legs, pressing firmly along my abdomen amidst the sudsy water. My nervous squirming is no longer fully related to me being scared of the strangers hands on my skin and more due to the discomfort of blood flow.

The golden eye monarch’s strong grip slowly moves down until his long warm fingers are kneading at my backside as he cocoons me against his wide chest, my face pressed firmly into the dampness of his velvety skin. At the same time from behind me, the warrior moves to plaster his wet chest against my back, reaching long fingers around and in between me and the prince’s abdomines to stroke along length of me. The rough pad of clawed fingers between my ass cheeks and along my semi hard penis have me pumping my hips despite myself. The sensations have me shivering with pleasure, and soft moans leaving my mouth.

In the back of my mind I knows I shouldn’t want this, knows it’s taboo to feel satisfaction from hands of creatures and strangers I knows nothing about, yet as I fall over the edge, releasing against the princes toned hip with a loud almost pained grunt, that voice in my mind goes white hot and disturbingly blank. If I had any fight in me before it’s gone completely now as the warrior finishes rinsing me clean before maneuvering my body into his arms and up and out of the pool. My head feels hazy and I watch in a daze as the water dripping off my body is dried for me by alien hands.

Things still felt unfocused as I lay sprawled across the warrior’s lap, comfortably pirched amid the hard contours of their grey chest and the cushions of the lounge chair they were on. My eyes opened and close with great effort in the low light of the room as the dark haired royal attempted to feed me sweets from the tabletop stread left for them by their benevolent aristocratic hosts. And that’s how I fell asleep for the second time that day, warm, clean and full of sweet treats.

.7

BENNETT

The dynamic I found myself in grew increasingly perplexing the longer I remained in the quarters of my two overly friendly alien companions. Despite the absence of any visible exchange of currency, I harbored a growing certainty that the aristocrats were, in fact, involved in a sort of alien trafficking ring. It was possible they had already sold me to what I had teasingly nicknamed the “death kitty duo” – I figured there was no reason not to get a laugh or two in at their expense with my fate being so far out of my hands – or were contemplating doing so soon.

At the moment, the royal half of the duo was nowhere to be found, and the warrior appeared to be seizing that as an opportunity to express a peculiar form of affection towards me. Despite my ever-growing reluctance. The thump of his long grey tail against the many blankets adorning the bed was my wake up call for the morning. At the sight of my rumpled form moving across the sheets, his thumping grew louder until he was all together pulling me from the bed and across the spacious chamber adorned with minimalistic yet elegant marbled designs. Now the aliens long noisy tail was coiled with what I could only assume was anticipation, while it’s emerald green eyes shimmered with a mixture of eagerness and determination.

I could feel the sincerity in the alien’s gestures as it attempted, in its own peculiar manner, to sit me down and offer me food again. However, it seemed unaware of my disdain for mornings, especially when roused before I was fully prepared. The room’s ambiance, dimly lit with a warm, comforting glow- a sign of the early morning hour-contrasted with the alien’s persistently endearing gestures, creating an unusual but strangely intimate moment that I wanted no part of. A fact I was very vocal about.

Only verbally complaining got me nowhere, and so for the past forty-five minutes, I’ve been squirming uncomfortably, desperately trying to put some space between myself and the snow leopard-like warrior. Every attempt to escape those powerful, muscular arms only resulted in me being gently pulled back, ensnared once more within the alien’s strong embrace. Despite my unease, the creature’s contented chuffs, akin to gentle laughter, reverberate through the space, creating an oddly tender atmosphere.

The room, bathed in a serene sunrise glow, provides a tranquil backdrop to this bizarre yet oddly intimate breakfast situation. If I wasn’t so unsure of these new aliens, I might have found it in me to laugh at myself. I must look pretty silly right now. Suddenly the peculiar and somewhat intimate feeling of the aliens long, dark tongue does exactly that, as it grazes my cheek and neck. The sensation triggers the impulse to cringe in disgust at the same time a giggle bubbles from my chest. I suppressed the laughter almost immediately after it leaves my mouth, diverting my head away from the offered food and pushing my hand against the aliens mouth to prevent any more rouge tongue action.

The warrior makes a noise then, like a deep, angry rumbling that starts low in his belly. The strength of it seems to resonate through my entire body, and haunting sensation of fangs grazing my palm have my breath hitching in fear. Scared I jerk my hand away, only to realize there is no obvious signs of aggression or anger coming from the creature before me. Only an very alien version of a cheeky grin and a sneaky, curious tail curling up and around my leg.

The laugh does escape me then, and for a moment I don’t try to temper it, but only for a moment.

The dish served for breakfast, consisting of greasy, meaty strips that bore no resemblance to anything familiar I had seen before had my stomach rolling at first glance. But despite its strange appearance, the aroma wafting from the meal was tantalizingly rich and hearty, reminiscent of a succulent steak sizzling on the grill.

As I caught the scent, memories of home stirred within me, causing a rumble in my stomach. Yet, even with my morning hunger gnawing at me, the unfamiliar color of the meat between the warrior’s fingers gave me pause. The enticing aroma conflicted with the distrust bred from the food’s unusual appearance. What if consuming this made me unwell?

The possibility of an adverse reaction, an allergy, perhaps, haunted me. Back on Earth, I had never experienced allergies to foods, only certain medications, but in this unfamiliar environment, I couldn’t be certain of my body’s response. In this unfamiliar space, I couldn’t shake off the niggling doubts about the food being served. So far, I hadn’t fallen ill from any of the meals provided, which led me to wonder if the aristocrats, seasoned in trading creatures, knew what was safe for humans.

However, the feline aliens were an entirely different matter. From the way they looked and handled me it was obvious they had never seen anything like me before. And I couldn’t really be sure of their interest in ensuring my well-being; after all, they might view me merely as a plaything, expendable at that, or possibly as a lover, given the strange intimacy of the previous night’s bathing fiasco. The memory alone brought a blush to my cheeks, and the mere thought made me feel uneasy and vulnerable.

As if sensing my inner turmoil, the sensation of the tongue against my skin once again sends shivers down my spine. The aliens deep purr rumbles into my own body so strongly that I felt as though my teeth were chattering with the force of the vibrations. The warrior gives me another fang filled cheeky grin at the gastly look I send his way. A part of me expected the alien to grow irritated with my lack of interest in eating, but there were no signs of annoyance from the creature. Instead, it seemed to relish enveloping me entirely in its arms, regardless of my wishes.

It treated me like a spoiled child, finding joy in cuddling something small and cute, whether I wanted it or not. I was starting to feel like a cat myself, reluctantly coddled by its owners. If my pride could even take another blow after shitting in a bucket that fact would be the final breaking point.

I found myself ensnared in our peculiar game of “feed the human” for what felt like an eternity. The warrior savored its morning meal with no regard for time or obligation, stabbing each morsel with claws as sharp and knives, while I resigned myself to sprawl across its lap. Trying and failing not to bask in the comforting warmth radiating from the creature’s powerful frame. Despite my futile attempts to break free, the warrior persisted in its efforts to sneak food into my mouth, even though I adamantly insisted I wasn’t hungry.

Once the warrior had satisfied its appetite, it allowed me to rest undisturbed within its embrace. Its fingers gently toyed with the unruly curls at the nape of my neck, while it reached for a book from the nearby table. There were no bookmarks or dog-eared pages to be seen, yet the warrior effortlessly flipped to where it must have left off, before settling in and stretching out across the length of the couch.

With me pressed against its suede chest, the warrior expertly entwined our legs together, all the while continuing to absentmindedly twirl my hair. I couldn’t help but emit a frustrated sigh from beneath the warrior’s jaw, feeling increasingly irritated by the creature’s relentless affection.

Turning my head to catch a glimpse of what the warrior was reading, my heart sank as I remembered that even something as simple as a book was beyond my capabilities now. Not only was the text itself a mystery to me, its binding and pages defied any familiarity I had with Earthly literature. The symbols and scribbles on the purple-hued pages remained inscrutable, discouraging further attempts at deciphering what it was even about. I felt a mixture of curiosity and frustration as I tried to unravel the alien’s literary world and got nowhere.

My boredom set in quickly, having exhausted my attempts to understand the alien text. I returned to staring blankly across the room, my cheek pressed tightly against my alien furnace, uncertain of how to occupy myself.

With the aristocrats, my days had been regimented, filled with walks, menial tasks, and moments of mild underwhelming engagement— if you could even call being bathed against your will a kind of “engagement”. However, since my run-in with these feline aliens, I felt caught in a state of limbo, as if awaiting a decision on my fate.

As it turned out, after days of the same monotonous routine, the leisurely atmosphere of their room had less to do with the warrior being lazy and more to do with the aliens feeling the need to babysit me. Whether intentional or not, I had mentally dubbed the dark-haired alien the king, mostly out of laziness to avoid the cumbersome “no mister dark-haired alien” every time I told the alien to “stop” or “keep his hands to himself.”

The two aliens rarely left me alone for long, with one of them almost always at my side, often crowding my personal space, much to my dismay. Their behavior seemed more akin to dogs than large, feline-inspired aliens, hovering around me, constantly touching me in some way. Having never owned more than a fish, I wondered if this was typical cat behavior.

As time passed, about a week now if I hadn’t miscounted the dimming of the lights, I found myself growing accustomed to the warrior’s presence. We spent nearly the entire day together while the king attended to his “royal” duties. Which were very possibly not royal at all seeing as how I was making things up as I went. But, the king being gone all day suggested the duo was here on some form of diplomacy mission with the aristocrats. I often contemplated whether entertaining visiting diplomats had been my role all along, though it was no surprise I was oblivious as to what any of my duties in the labyrinth really were. The lack of communication left me feeling like an outsider, not exactly a guest but not confined like before.

Despite my murky circumstances, I felt a sliver of gratitude for no longer being locked in a cage. Being abducted hadn’t done much for me besides fostering a dislike and distrust of aliens. And I felt those feelings were warranted after my initial treatment. However, as I sat pampered in a cozy room with delectable food and no electric cattle prods, I began to reconsider my preconceived notions. Even the aristocrats, while aloof and cold, hadn’t been overtly cruel.

I couldn’t help but wish I could understand alien communication. I often felt a sense of frustration at my inability to gage what was actually happening at any given time. And I regularly felt the need to curse Earth and the human race for not being more advanced when I was abducted, like it was somehow my ancestors’ fault I didn’t learn Guide to Aliens 101 in all those monotonous years of school. Having a 1200 SAT score got me nowhere now, and the yearning for conversation and mental stimulation grew stronger as the days passed, leaving me feeling increasingly lonely.

Cradled in the warrior’s arms once again, as the large creature enjoyed another book, I watched the artificial lights gradually dim—the only sign that my sixth day with the duo was coming to an end— and suddenly my boredom began to brew mischief. During my time with the Banties, fear had dominated my emotions. It wasn’t until my transfer- or really sale- to the aristocrats that my penchant for mischief resurfaced, tempered by a lingering fear of their potential violence.

With the warrior, however, the dynamics were different. I felt a curiosity about pushing boundaries, a desire to test the limits despite the looming threat of fangs and claws that could easily rend me apart if I stepped too far out of line.

I found myself yearning for a change of pace, desperate to break free from the monotony. Fueled by a sudden burst of energy, I managed to wriggle free from the warrior’s grasp, meekly pretending I needed to use the bathroom. It was one of the few moments they let me be alone, though just a few days ago, they hovered over me incessantly.

The king had gone so far as to even try to hold my junk for me while I was going, which infuriated me beyond belief. I threw an absolute fit then, all thoughts of relieving myself gone as I made to lash out at the king. But like always, the warrior was there before I got so much as a punch in. Grabbing me under the armpits, the warrior swiftly wrapped me up in his arms, offering an odd sense of comfort that surprised me. I relished in the feeling despite myself, even going so far as to wrap my legs around the warrior’s waist and bury my face into their chest to hide my tears of frustration as the alien purred and twirled the hair at my neck. The warrior rumbled soothingly into my ear for a few moments, as the king hissed frustratedly at us. They spoke above my head for a bit, and in those moments, I felt childish and embarrassed for becoming so upset over something so silly, but I made no effort to remove myself from the warrior’s arms.

Now, though, with the king and his overly grabby hands absent, and no real urge to use the bathroom, I took my chance to make a break for it. Sneaking a glance to ensure the warrior was engrossed in his book, I slipped through the marbled door and into the hallway, my sage green outfit swishing softly with each step. With an impish giggle I couldn’t seem to hold in, I darted down the stone hallway, the thrill of rebellion coursing through me as I ventured into the labyrinth like halls of the aristocrats domain with no direction in mind.

.8

BENNETT

Dodging through the labyrinthine halls almost felt like rediscovering a long-lost sense of freedom, reminiscent of carefree days from my childhood when running was a joy in itself. It brought back memories of the sun’s warm embrace on my face, the invigorating scent of crisp mountain air from my hikes in the Rockies, and the gentle rustle of leaves dancing in the wind. But those fleeting sensations were quickly overshadowed by the reality of the labyrinth’s dark and daunting corridors. Despite the intricate marbling of the stone walls, the halls remained uniform and bleak, a stark contrast to the vivid memories that momentarily swept over me.

Each twist and turn I took seemed to lead me deeper into the labyrinth’s mysterious depths with no end in sight. The walls, adorned with elaborate carvings and intricate patterns, told of an alien civilization I was unable to comprehend. Yet, amidst the grandeur of the architecture, an eerie silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the echo of my footsteps as I hurried along.

As I navigated the labyrinth’s maze-like passages, a sense of exhilaration mingled with apprehension. The thrill of exploration tugged at my adventurous spirit, but the unknown dangers lurking in the shadows kept my senses sharp and alert. Every corner turned brought a new anticipation, a mix of excitement and trepidation as I ventured further into the heart of the aristocrat’s home.

Despite the oppressive atmosphere of the corridors, there was an undeniable allure to the labyrinth’s secrets. It was as if each step forward could unravel alien mystery’s, drawing me deeper into its cold stoney embrace. The thought of uncovering hidden chambers or ancient alien artifacts fueled my determination, overshadowing any lingering fear or uncertainty.

With each passing moment, the labyrinth revealed none of its hidden secrets like I had hoped yet continued to captivate me in its intricate web of passages and secrets. The thrill of the unknown propelled me forward, as well as the drive to possibly find a way home, though as more and more days pasted that thought seemed to float through my mind less and less. I felt the need to laugh off any hope of actually seeing earth again, being hung up on going home seemed like a waste of my time and effort. For so long I had wondered if a cattle prod and a dirty bucket in the corner of a tiny cage would be all I had for the rest of my life, now I was free of that particular cage sure, but I wasn’t so sure I was actually free in the sense that was basic human rights.

The thundering snarl that reverberated down the corridor behind me sent a chill down my spine, clearing my wandering thoughts in an instant. My own footsteps, previously light and carefree, now sounded like thunderous drums in my ears as another roar echoed through the stone passages. It became evident that to the warrior this wasn’t a playful game; it was a dangerous dance with a formidable predator.

In our cat-and-mouse dynamic, while I had been daydreaming of sunny childhood days and home, the warrior had wasted no time in picking up my trail. The slamming doors and rumbling growls from a few corridors away signaled his relentless pursuit. My heart pounded in my chest, adrenaline coursing through my veins as I realized the gravity of the situation. While I hadn’t considered slipping out for a little fun a big deal, this no longer felt like a bit of fun. No this didn’t feel like just a game of hide and seek; it was a life-or-death chase.

With each frantic step, I darted around corners, my breaths coming in ragged gasps as I fought to remain silent. However, my efforts were in vain against the keen senses of the alien predator tracking me. Every sound, every movement seemed to magnify in the tense ultra quiet atmosphere of the labyrinth. The thrill of the chase mixed with a primal fear, heightening my senses and sharpening my instincts.

The labyrinth seemed to stretch endlessly before me, yet even with its winding corridors I felt like there was no escape, nowhere to hide. My mind raced with thoughts of escape, of finding a hidden alcove or a secret passage to evade my pursuer. Yet, a part of me seemed to know that the warrior’s predatory instincts would lead him straight to me.

As the chase intensified, a rush of exhilaration surged through me, tinged with a sense of dread. The adrenaline-fueled sprint through the labyrinth became a test of survival, a primal struggle against a relentless hunter. The thrill of the hunt was palpable in the air, a dangerous game of cat and mouse with stakes higher than I had ever imagined.

The warrior’s warning growls grew louder with each passing second, a menacing symphony of danger drawing closer no matter how far I sprinted. Eventually, I reached a dead end in the labyrinthine corridors—a narrow hallway abruptly terminating into a sparse stone room filled with assorted furniture that seemed to lack a specific purpose. I quickly sought refuge beneath an abandoned desk, curling into a tight ball to make myself as inconspicuous as possible.

From my hiding spot, I could faintly hear the alien’s approach, though had I not been actively listening for it I don’t think I would have heard him at all. The sound that gave him away was the soft rasp of his clawed feet against stone. His breathing remained steady and composed, a stark contrast to the deep, rumbling growl emanating from his chest. His ears twitched, picking up every subtle sound in the room as he prowled in with predatory grace, his movements fluid and silent.

The warrior’s alien eyes, resembling those of a cat, scanned the room with a hungry intensity, his pupils dilated wide. His fangs glistened in the dim light as he scented the air, the primal instincts of a predator, alien or not had taken over him. With a scarily fluid transition, he lowered to all fours, his sleek form disappearing from my line of sight as he ventured deeper into the room, still emitting low growls that sent shivers down my spine.

As I cowered beneath the desk, my heart pounded like a war drum in my chest, and I knew with each thunderous beat that I was giving myself away, yet I couldn’t seem to calm myself. The dim light of the room cast eerie shadows, amplifying the wild glint in the alien warrior’s eyes as they scanned the space, searching for any trace of my presence. After days of being handled with care by those enormous, clawed hands that had hurt me, but had never once held malicious intent, I knew I shouldn’t have been as terrified as I was when his gaze locked onto mine from my hiding place.

In an instant, his movements were a blur, faster than my eyes could follow, and before I could react, he had seized me by the ankle and yanked me out from under the desk. A scream tore from my throat involuntarily, echoed by a yowl of pain from the warrior as my reflexive kick made contact. But any brief sense of victory was overshadowed by the overwhelming fear that gripped me as the warrior wrestled me off the ground.

His hand closed around my neck effortlessly, lifting me off my feet as if I were a mere doll in his grasp. His fangs gleamed dangerously inches from my face, and the force of his roar in response to my struggles had my bladder releasing on its own volition. Any semblance of a fighting spirit I had found moments ago dissipated as I quivered in his grip, my feet dangling above the ground. Sounds garbled from my pinched throat as I reflexively clawed at his hand, desperate to free myself from his powerful grip.

A low warning escaped his mouth, the alien words unfamiliar and foreign to my ears, but the meaning was unmistakable. He released his grip on my neck just long enough for me to drop to the ground gasping, before those same wickedly sharp claws closed around the back of my neck once more, the sharp tips pricking my skin. I gasped for air, my breaths coming out in sobbing, erratic bursts, as he practically dragged me out of the abandoned room.

The chase had felt long and drawn-out, but the journey back to the room was short and humiliating beyond measure. My thin green silk trousers clung uncomfortably to my crotch and thighs, the fabric soaked with my own urine and the stench of fear. Any semblance of comfort I usually found in my alien warrior was long gone; he barely spared me a glance as we walked.

In no time at all we came upon what I was sure was the door to the room shared with the death kitty duo, but he continued on, my unease growing with each step. Eventually, we arrived at a room unlike any I had seen since arriving here. It was a massive hangar-like space filled with rows of organically shaped machinery, presumably spacecraft.

As I stumbled into the hangar-like space, the towering rows of alien machinery seemed to press down on me, casting eerie shadows that danced across the cold metal floor. The spacecraft, with their sleek, otherworldly designs, loomed overhead like silent sentinels of an unknown world. Despite the mesmerizing beauty of these alien vessels, fear gnawed at my gut as the warrior dragged me toward one of the ships. Its dark, elongated form held an ominous air, devoid of any familiar features like engines or wings. My heart raced as I realized the gravity of the situation. The warrior’s grip on my arm tightened, his alien eyes cold and unreadable as he pushed me toward a collection of cargo boxes. Panic surged through me, but my struggles were met with indifference as he opened a container with no visible openings except for four finger-sized holes along the front and sides. Before I could protest, he tossed me inside like I weighed nothing. I felt a sob bubbled up and out of my throat as the audible sound of a lock clicking in places rang in my ears.

As my panic reached its peak, I screamed and pounded on the metal box, its confines barely allowing me enough space to kneel or turn around. I couldn’t lay down or stretch my legs fully, and the tiny finger-sized holes were only there to let me breathe, providing little to no light inside. Any semblance of sanity I had managed to grasp since being freed from the Banties’ cages now felt lost in the suffocating darkness as I exhausted myself in a futile attempt to escape my newest prison.

The continuous pounding against the unyielding metal had left my fingers raw, the once immaculate nails now torn and bloody. Exhausted, I cried myself into a fitful sleep, overwhelmed by fear and a profound sense of betrayal.

It was a grave mistake to think it was acceptable to engage in games with an alien, a monstrous being I had oddly found solace in. Now, I had lost everything, left with nothing and no one. I had cautioned myself against hoping to return home, but now, I struggled to define what exactly I should hope for in this dismal situation. I had naively placed trust in a creature I knew nothing about, with whom I couldn’t communicate, and now I found myself right back where I had started weeks ago. Trapped in a cage, covered in my own filth, feeling utterly helpless, and consumed by anger at my own foolishness.

.9

KHUR

I, Khur Za’ae Veknil, seasoned warrior, clan mate and second claw to the Kóhai Shadow Zar, Zidrikai Kujiri Sulgri, 60th victor of the Hasam’tuget, had been fooled.

The small pink hairless creature had become pliant, ever the unruly and stubborn sort, but growing softer and more custom in the ways of love mates that clans often shared. I had been uncertain at first when Zidrikai had all but demanded the little thing hiding in the halls be ours, but was familiar with the strange whims of my chosen kin and rarely fought him on them. For all the years I’d know him, it wasn’t often I fully understood the twist and turns of my king’s brain.

It wasn’t hard to see that despite Kai’s many love mate courting proposals our new little pet did not know the customs of our people and therefore could not, or possibly would not give the traditional response required of a love mate to join a clan also known as the hah’ki vows.

As a king, though it had not been long since the viscous Hasam’tuget that had crowded him, Kai was not accustomed to hearing no and pressed boundaries he often should not. It was quite obvious when are little lover did not want something, but my King often chose to misunderstand on purpose. A devilishly bad and disgraceful habit he had gotten into that I had growled warnings about on multiple occasions. The little pink creature had no issues growling his own warnings himself, loud and ferocious little thing he was, all fists and rage, though his little language was all hums and squeaks like the little blind feathered snow creatures called a Rix, that lived beneath the spiky grey tree’s called Eldrosi back on our home planet.

They were the frozen giants that interconnected our civilization, a massive forest as tall as mountains millennium old and all related to a single mother tree by trillions of interconnecting roots beneath the rock and ice. The Rix were small, blind little things with loud ear curling scream’s for warning calls when you disturbed one of their nests which they liked to make and link with the aid of the Eldrosi mother roots. It was said that if a Kóhani was lost they could close their eyes and follow the whispers of the Rix’s feathers along the Eldrosi roots and Drusyl the mother tree would show you the way home.

My own nesting clan had taught me as a cub how to skillfully detect a nest as to avoid alerting other larger predators to your whereabouts and I had taught my young king, long before his Hasam’tuget that had crowd him as such.

And the days went by though, hearing those warnings from our little mate only worried me more and more. He wasn’t exactly warming up to me nor was he a huge fan of Zidrikai, though it was the hard headed cubs own fault. Our little Rix seemed to fear our touch less and less as the days went on, those loud warnings farther a fewer as time passed. Still I worried, but my King’s never wavering confidence was contagious, his determination to win our hah’ki vows bolstering my own resolve to have our future lover give into our whims.

He was also more lenient with our unsuspecting love mate than he ought to be, as I had warned him numerous times, but now I was the lenient one. Like an inexperienced cub freshly released from my nesting clan, I had let the little creature best me, if only for a moment, and escape the safety of our quarters.

The Jaxelis Vex’ryn are a cold race-much like the cold underground stone they chose to call their home-dealing in anything lavish they can get their hands on but more often than not made a point to buy and trade what they considered to be rare and exotic breeds.

Had Kai not stepped in the little creature would likely be galaxies away by now a love or breeding slave to a far less accommodative master. Or even more likely, dead, for its naturally stubborn nature. The Jaxelis Vex’ryn had all about cut their losses, though they dealt with exotic breeds they did not believe in breaking their slaves, though it was more that it was considered a waste of time and therefore a waste of money which was against their codes than them actually caring about nonviolence. They would faster sell a creature for its meat or babies than deal with its unruliness.

Kai had offered twice the little things original worth and now the Kóhai King and myself had a misbehaving, soon to be claimed love mate who had broken the most dangerous law of slavers. Running from your master was punishable by death, which was the last and final punishment you had to worry about if a slaver not your master caught you. Up until your death would not be pleasant to say the least, but you would die.

While we did not consider our little hairless creature to be a slave any longer the laws of the Jaxelis Vex’ryn trading house were final no matter what the master wished for his slave. A contract was purchased and a contract it was. I could hear Kai’s furious grumbling even now, though the fact that I had thrown our potential love mate into a transportation cage wouldn’t sit well with him either; I was done with this silly planet. Terrified for the little creatures foolishness to the point of barely contained rage, I was on my way to demand my King wrap up whatever tedious political agreements he still had left with this cold rock and its people or I was leaving without him.

The sounds of the little things terrified cries as I locked that cage and walked away had almost been enough to cull my temper. The feeling was misplaced, I knew our little pet had no ill intentions, but the fear had driven me and I would not take it back now, nor could I trust in the little foolish thing to stay put without my watchful eye. Not anymore. And I refused to take him to the very creatures that would have torn him apart to make all the money they could before killing him for breaking a slaves code.

No. He would stay in his transportation cage, little foolish cub that he was. The thought of him running once again had my hackles rising along my spine and my tail twitching irritably as I stalked the halls, mouth parted slightly as I scented for my clan-mate in the stale Jaxelis Vex’ryn air.

Zidrikai wasn’t too hard to find, and from my scent alone and the twitching of my tail my king knew to excuse himself from his meeting to greet me. The hallway where we speak is long and dimly lit, but by the twitch of my ears my King knows we are not completely alone here.“Khur, my warrior. What news of home?” the low purr that rumbled beneath his words, caressed my skin and told me what he really wanted to say, “My dear love mate, what has your fur ruffled so?”

And though we Kóhai are not shy with physical affection-to the point it wasn’t uncommon to find lovers tangled in various fashions of play in the streets- his reserved greeting is a sign of respect and pride to my titles. The fact that my clan mate and King chooses to call me his warrior only when twitching ears were within hearing distance tells more than I think he would like to know. He loves me too much, my young king.

“Your time is needed elsewhere my King, I recommend we finish our business here and make to leave before the creators sleep.” I say, kneeling in respect, my tail curling on my ankle to show my deference.

It is not proper to tell our king what he should or should not do, but as second claw and clan mate I had a bit more room for my kings leniency. A bit more, but not much. My king was all ears curled in our furs, but rarely did he show me favoritism in front of my peers. As an adolescent fresh from his nest clan, the way Kai attached himself to me -against my will I might add, being that I was already a fairly seasoned warrior by a few years and not a bit interest in a cub barely grown out of his nesting fur- I had found his coldness in public a blow to our budding love.

Now with my age showing in the flick of my tail and sway in my steps I knew my King had nothing but love and respect for me. And it was due to that respect he was the way he was, soft and loving in private, but reserved in public. A Kings burden I suppose. Probably a lovers burden as well, but being a second claw had hardly felt a burden to me.

“Màetí and Tiúha will rise, warm and full of joy to have us back on their creation.” My king reply’s is in agreement with my thoughts as well as a dismissal in itself. The Kóhai’s way of saying goodbye or that the conversation is over, just as Màetí and Tiúha, our twin suns, rising mean the end of a long cold night on Kóhana.

“Yes, my king.” And then I am gone, silent on the stone floors as I make to get everything prepared to return to my home planet.

As I thought my King is displeased to say the least when he hears our little love mate is in a transportation crate, it takes quite a bit of tail twinning and purs in the privacy of the chambers the Jaxelis Vex’ryn gifted us when we arrived. I quietly explain the situation, trying and failing to keep the fear and anger from my rumbles as I purr loudly in an attempt to placate my lover.

In response to my gentle comforts, the King’s expression softens slightly, though the disappointment remains evident in his eyes and the soft growls he sends my way. He understands the gravity of the situation and the potential consequences of our love mates actions. With a low, rumbling sigh, he nods, acknowledging my words.

I can sense quiet his worry and frustration, the Jaxelis Vex’ryn granted us these chambers as a gesture of goodwill, and while our peoples talks will likely get nowhere once again, a disagreement over a pet could possibly start a war between our races. A war the Kóhai do not need nor want. As the King paces the room, his long dark tail flicking in barely contained agitation, I offer reassurances in my purrs, promising to rectify the situation swiftly and with discretion.

Once home, our love mate will never see a cage again so long as he is lives.

With a final nod, my Shadow King turns to leave our temporary chambers, his dark tail sweeping gracefully behind him. ‘Prepare, my claw,’ he says over his shoulder a purr of forgiveness rumbling gracefully to my ears. ‘We move swiftly, the creators await.’

.10

BENNETT

The memories were suffocating. The ghost sensation of electricity zapping through me so hard that my muscles were twitching and numb just thinking about it. A frigidly cold cage, the smell of feces not just from my own bucket but the creatures around me, it all felt like it was choking me.

I was hyperventilating.

In the back of my mind, I knew I wasn’t with the Banties anymore. I was caged, yes, but it was a different kind of captivity. This time, I was surrounded by lavish comforts: blankets, pillows, and furs cushioned the floor beneath me. I was warm, and the space was quiet and dim, creating an atmosphere that should have been relaxing. Yet, despite the luxuries, I felt nothing but trapped.

I tried to talk myself down, forcing myself to breathe deeply and think rationally. I needed to remind myself that this was not the same as before. I wasn’t in that awful, cold place with a shit bucket and cattle prods. This was different. The warrior and the king, as strange as their methods were, had never been overtly cruel to me. They had fed me, kept me safe, and, in their own alien way, cared for me.

I went over the events in my mind, step by step, trying to piece together how I had ended up back in a cage. It had started with my attempt to escape the monotony, to find some sense of freedom in a life that had become a series of repetitive, controlled days. I had thought I could push the boundaries a little, test the limits of my captivity. But the warrior had caught me quickly, his growls echoing through the corridors, a predator tracking its prey.

The chase had been exhilarating at first, but it quickly turned into a nightmare when I realized I had nowhere to run with an angry creature on my tail. I had screamed and fought when the warrior had found me, my kicks landing futile blows against his massive frame. His clawed hand around my neck had cut off my breath, his fangs bared inches from my face, and in that moment, whatever will to fight I had found evaporated.

Now, here I was, in a cage that was more luxurious than my previous cell but no less confining. I tried to remind myself of the warrior’s gentle moments, the way he had held me, purred comfortingly, and protected me from the king’s overzealous attentions. But those memories were overshadowed by the fear and humiliation of being thrown back into a box.

I tried and failed to calm myself once again. Your not there anymore. Your NOT there anymore. Not there, not there, not there, not there!

Your not there anymore!

But I was in a cage, no matter how comfortable they had tried to make it. The walls seemed to grow tighter and tighter around me with every ragged breath until I couldn’t take any more. I would fall in and out of consciousness like this for a long while, sometimes panicking, other times just hollow and detached until I found sleep again. However long I was locked away I did not know. The sounds outside of my cage seemed muffled and the light dim no matter the time of day. I wasn’t sure if the muted surroundings contributed or helped with the panic.

What I did know was I couldn’t even find it within myself to be angry. I felt shut down, out of body, watching myself shrink back into that lifeless person I had withered away to on that cold, cramped floor. The small, dark space of the transportation crate brought back too many memories. Memories of feeling helpless, of having no control over my own fate, of being treated like cargo rather than a living being.

Although most sound was muted the vibration of the ship’s engines hummed through the metal walls of my confinement. It was a steady, monotonous sound that seemed to amplify my isolation. As the ship ascended, leaving the labyrinth behind, I could feel the slight shifts in pressure, the subtle lurches as we broke through the atmosphere. Each jolt reminded me of how powerless I was in this situation.

I tried to focus on the faint light seeping through the air holes, but it was a pitiful comfort. My fingers were still raw and my nailbeds’ bloody from my earlier, futile attempts to escape. I hugged my knees to my chest, feeling the cool metal wall through the thin material of my shirt, and tried to steady my breathing. I could hear my own heart pounding in my ears, a relentless reminder of my fear and vulnerability.

Time seemed to blur, the hours blending into a dull haze of anxiety and exhaustion. I drifted in and out of a fitful sleep, haunted by dreams of cages and alien faces. When I was awake, I found myself replaying the events of the past weeks over and over in my mind. The initial fear when I was first captured, the cautious hope I had felt with the warrior and the king, and now this crushing sense of betrayal and abandonment.

I stopped doing much of anything, even sleeping was hard after a while and my thoughts kept circling back to the warrior. Despite everything, I couldn’t entirely blame him. There had been moments, fleeting but real, where I had felt a genuine connection, a sense of safety in his presence. But now, those moments seemed distant and unreachable, like a cruel joke played by fate.

I couldn’t shake the feeling of being a pawn in some larger game, a game I didn’t understand and had no control over. The realization was both terrifying and numbing. I wondered if this was how it would end for me, alone and forgotten in a metal box, lost among the stars.

I believed a night and a full day went by with me falling in and out of sleep before I felt the ship lurch and the steady hum slow before stopping altogether. Time had lost meaning in the confines of the crate, and I couldn’t tell how many hours had passed. If I had been hungry, I couldn’t remember. My nails were bleeding again from where I had tried to pry at the seams of the crate, frantic after a nightmare. I had also scratched and picked a decent-sized spot on my neck and thigh raw from anxiously trying to calm or wake myself up. Sometimes, it felt like the only way to rid myself of the bad memories.

The ship’s hum, a constant background noise, had been my only sense of passage. Now, the silence was deafening, amplifying my anxiety. I tried to focus on my breathing, tried to ground myself in the present moment, but the fear gnawed at my insides.

I couldn’t shake the feeling of helplessness. The confined space of the crate made my movements awkward, and the tiny holes provided just enough air to keep me alive. My heart pounded in my chest, my mind racing with questions and fears. Where were they taking me? What would happen when the crate was opened?

I hugged my knees to my chest, feeling the sting of my raw skin. The pain was a twisted comfort, a reminder that I was still alive, still here. Memories of the Banties’ cold, sterile cages flashed through my mind. The electric cattle prods, the eerie chirps that reminded me to much of cruel laughter, the endless days of isolation surrounded by strange creatures. I had thought I had escaped that nightmare, but now it seemed I was back to square one.

I thought of the warrior, his hands that had been so gentle now feeling like a distant memory. I couldn’t reconcile the comfort I had once found in his embrace with the fear I felt now. Had I misjudged him completely? Or was there more to this situation than I understood?

The ship finally came to a stop, and I felt a faint vibration as footsteps approached. My heart leapt into my throat. This was it. The moment I had been dreading. I tensed, every muscle in my body coiled in fear as I backed myself to the farthest corner of my cage. The lock on the crate clicked, and the lid slowly lifted, flooding my cramped prison with blinding light.

I squinted against the sudden brightness, my eyes struggling to adjust. The silhouette of the king loomed over me, his expression unreadable. I flinched, expecting the worst as he came for me, but he merely reached in and lifted me out with surprising gentleness.

My legs felt weak, but my feet were only on the ground for a moment before he lifted me away again. My emotions were jumbled and stuck in my throat. I felt overstimulated and more than anything afraid. I lay limp and numb, pressed into the warm place just at the base of his throat as he curled my gangly body into his arms. The transition from stale spacecraft air to a deep frigid cold almost had me missing the natural hot spring in our room at the labyrinth. This cold brought a chill I couldn’t shake, clinging to my body like a second skin, weighing my breaths down as they puffed hot against the velvety fur of the king’s neck.

After a bit of walking, a door creaked open, and with it, a gust of humidly warm air. The king pulled me away from his chest, placing me onto a plush bed, covered with thick furs. He examined my bloody nails and raw skin, a flash of concern crossing his features. He called out something in his native tongue, and another alien appeared, carrying a small medical kit.

The new alien almost russet chocolatey brown in color, but much smaller in stature that either the king or his warrior, approached with a calm demeanor, setting the kit down beside me. The king’s fingers gently held my hands, inspecting the damage with a focused intensity. I felt the sting of antiseptic as the russet feline cleaned my wounds. The touch was surprisingly tender, contrasting sharply with the fear and betrayal that had been gnawing at me.

My mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation. Why had they put me in the crate? Why were they being gentle now? I watched the king’s face, searching for answers in his eyes. There was a softness there, a concern that seemed genuine, but it did little to quell the storm of emotions inside me.

Once my wounds were bandaged, I decided I no longer felt comfortable being so close to these creatures. Jerking my fingers out of the king’s light grip, I scurried to the head of the bed. It was almost comical the way I barricaded myself amid the piles and piles of pillows, as though somehow they would protect me against the king’s sharp claws, glistening fangs, and my own rocky emotions.

I watched the king warily, my heart pounding as he remained seated on the edge of the bed. His eyes followed my every movement, a mixture of curiosity and something else I couldn’t quite decipher. He didn’t move to close the distance between us, respecting the space I had created, but his presence still loomed large in the room.

The russet alien, having finished with the medical kit, stood back and observed the interaction. There was a silent communication between them, a brief exchange of glances that made me feel even more like an outsider. I clutched a pillow to my chest, its soft texture a small comfort in this alien environment.

“Why?” I finally managed to ask, my voice trembling but defiant. I knew he wouldn’t understand me, but I needed answers, needed to understand what I had done so wrong.

The king’s expression softened, a hint of what looked like regret flickering in his eyes. He spoke in his native tongue, the words melodic yet incomprehensible to me.

Seeing my confusion, he tried again, but of course nothing got through. I clutched the pillows tighter, fending off tears of frustration.

The king chuffed out a soft breath, sensing my turmoil. He gestured to the smaller russet colored alien, who approached with a tray of food and drink. With a soft growling word he seemed to urge me gently toward the food, while at the same time never really moving from his place at the end of the bed.

Despite my wariness, I realized how hungry I was. The smaller feline gently placed the tray near my place on the bed and backed away. Tentatively, I grabbed a small yellow cube from the tray, its sweetness reminding me subtly of a kiwi a welcome distraction from my racing thoughts. The king watched me with a guarded expression of his own as I popped a few more handfuls in my mouth in quick rapid successions, as if someone was going to take this small treat away from me if I didn’t eat it fast enough.

As I ate, I continued to study the king warily, and he did the same to me. It became a battle to grab food, watch him, and keep my eyes open all at the same time. A part of him must have sensed that I wouldn’t sleep until he left. I couldn’t feel comfortable with him near me anymore. The doll he had pulled out of the cage was now a cornered animal, ready to attack at any moment.

With a heavy breath, he stood, dismissing the russet feline from the room first. Then the king bowed to me with a deep rumbling purr, which I guessed was some sort of alien goodbye, before leaving without a sound.

I was left alone in a giant, humid, cave-like room, the sound of warm water trickling all around the dimly lit walls. I set the tray aside and buried myself deeper into the pillows, trying to make sense of everything. My mind raced with a thousand thoughts, each one more confusing than the last.

More than anything, I told myself I could never, ever trust these creatures again, no matter how regretful they seemed or how caring they appeared to be. They could no longer be trusted.

As I lay there, the dim light casting shadows on the cave-like walls, I tried to steel myself against any semblance of hope or reliance on them. They had shown their true colors, and I couldn’t afford to be lulled back into a false sense of security. The warmth of the blankets and the soft trickling of water were deceptive comforts, masking the reality of my situation.

I wrapped myself tighter in the furs anyhow, seeking solace in their softness even as my mind whirled with fear and anger. The king’s concerned expression as he bandaged my wounds, his careful touch—it all felt like part of a cruel game now. I couldn’t allow myself to be fooled again.

Sleep was elusive, my mind too restless to find peace. I replayed the events over and over, trying to understand where I had gone wrong, how I had allowed myself to be so vulnerable. The thought of those sharp claws and glistening fangs haunted me, a constant reminder of the danger I was in.