The Alien Warrior King's Accountant (Royal Aliens 4)

“We’d better re-clothe you,” Tyrant says. “I doubt your employer has seen so much of you.”

“He has not. If he saw me like this, he’d fire me. Your accounts would be left undone for eternity.”

Tyrant snaps his fingers, and I am clothed. Not in PJ’s. Not in an insulting robe, but in a professional outfit, a white blouse and a pencil skirt and stockings with seams that run down the backs of my calves to sensible black pumps.

Tyrant knows what I should look like, and he’s made it happen. I’ve never looked this professional before even when I was allowed out of the house to go shopping at real stores with other humans.

“Very nice,” he says. “Though it doesn’t look particularly comfortable.”

“It isn’t. Well. It isn’t usually. This is actually pretty comfortable.”

But it feels amazing. He’s even somehow managed to magic up a bra which fits perfectly. Does he have any idea how hard it is to get a bra to fit the way this one does? No gaps around the underwire? No weird extension into either my breasts or my armpits? No digging into my ribs? This might be the most impressive thing I have encountered thus far.

“I will return to you later,” Tyrant promises me. “Terrible will assist you with your employer.”

He leaves me with one last affectionate brush of his fingers across my rear, and Terrible returns. I feel so much better facing him with this professional attire on. I guess that’s what professional attire is for — it’s like armor, but for your feelings.

“I’m going to manifest some very archaic and basic technology which will allow you to see and hear your boss, and vice versa. I suggest your conversation with him be limited to your work, not your interpersonal relations with the king.”

“You mean don’t tell my boss I fucked my client? Gotcha.”

Terrible flinches as if my words are physically painful to him. Good. I like the idea that I might be able to annoy him with a little crassness, and also be able to take some pride in my copulation with the king.

3 The Probe

“How are you doing, Tania?”

“Great, thanks, Mr. Rogers. Thank you so much for this assignment.”

I’m standing because sitting isn’t comfortable, but that’s fine, the desk which Terrible manifested for me can be raised or lowered with nothing more than a thought.

“I thought you would enjoy it,” Mr. Rogers says, pleased.

I’m not sure I’m saying what I should be saying. I should probably be asking to come home immediately. Tyrant and I may have parted company on orgasmic terms, but he punished me for close to no reason. I cannot expect fairness from him. I don't know what to expect from him.

But seeing Mr. Rogers’ face reminds me that I have a real job. This is real. And if I can pull this off, I’m going to be a legend around whoever in the office will admit to knowing about aliens. They don’t have to know about the part where I got spanked on my first day. I can just keep that to myself.

“This will be a challenge, but I expect you will rise to it.”

“I will, sir, thank you.”

The transmission is cut off, thanks to Terrible un-manifesting the entire unit.

“That’s enough of that,” he says. “Humans spend so much time in unnecessary conversation. It is time you began your work. First you will need your BUTT.”

“I think I still have it.”

“No, your Binder containing the Universal Taxation Theory code. Previous accountants have referred to it as a BUTT.”

“Ah, and were previous accountants teenage boys?”

“Not that I am aware of. I have had little contact with previous humans. It is not something I would choose of my own accord.”

He’s actually disgusted by me, I think. It is strange, how Tyrant was attracted to me and this one can barely stand me. The feeling is mutual. I find Terrible absolutely repulsive in personality.

He manifests and then dumps a big sheaf of papers in front of me, and I immediately feel so much better. This is what I know how to work with, completely obtuse and likely contradictory regulations.

“Familiarize yourself with these, human. The accounts themselves will come later. I imagine the king will want to present them, and you will no doubt need to question him due to an inevitable lack of understanding.”

He can’t get through a sentence without insulting me, it’s almost like a reflex.

But to his credit, he does set about creating an environment I can be comfortable in. I find myself staring at a proper bed with a soft quilted comforter, which makes me feel so very cozy just looking at it, and everything besides.

“I have created a replica of a bed and breakfast in the mountains of a particularly rural area of your homeland. I suspect this will suit you.”