Monster King (Royal Aliens 5)

Being abducted by an alien has really been a humbling experience all round. I’ve had to confront every demon I pretended I didn’t have. I’ve had to come to terms with being depressed, and with being desperate to be loved, and with finding myself helpless against the chemical wiles of a substance I didn’t understand.

Doctor Hermes watches over me the entire time. These scythkin aren’t as bad as I thought they were when they were destroying Brawn's ship, putting my life at risk, and ripping me away from everything I had come to know right after I’d just been ripped away from everything I knew.

“I hear you are doing better,” Captain Zenith says. He has the kind of air about him that reminds me a bit of my old police chief. Authority, but somewhat kind, but you really don’t see that kindness until you absolutely need it, and then it’s only for a split second.

He’s a monster. But his decisions saved my life. I kind of owe him a debt of thanks.

“Yeah. I am. Thanks.”

There we go. That should do it.

He gives me a curt nod, and I brace myself. He hasn’t come to see me for social reasons ever. I have heard the doctor relaying my condition to him, but that’s been about it. So now I feel as though something is afoot.

“Some decisions have been made regarding your future.”

“Oh. They have?”

“When you have recovered, we’re going to take you to the Interstellar Human Petting Zoo. It’s a facility where troublesome humans can be contained via advanced systems of reality augmentation and mind control. You will be inserted into the system, where you will no longer remember the life you had before King Brawn, nor the time you spent with him. You will be given a completely fresh start.”

All the feelings of reluctant-like I was allowing myself to feel for these aliens disappear as if they had been flushed.

“I don’t want that.”

“What you want could not be more irrelevant. Humans never know what they want anyway, let alone what they need. Your species is incapable of assessing risk in any way.”

“Uhm. Get fucked.”

“It would seem you have already been well used in that regard too. I imagine the Daise stretched you out beyond all recognition.”

“That is not how vaginas work, you asshole.”

The scythkin sighs, and speaks to me in the sort of tone I usually reserve for people who think demons are coming out of the television. “I’m not insulting you, human. I’m cataloging the damage which has been done to you by a careless alien with no real knowledge of your species. Not only were you addicted to his sperm, you were physically ravaged by his two monster phalluses, neither of which are approved for use on or in humans.”

“He didn’t damage me. He tried to look after me.”

“However much he may have tried, he was not successful. You would have perished within your next monthly cycle.”

I believe him, but only because of how crap I felt when I couldn’t have Brawn’s come anymore. Yes. He almost killed me after he abducted me on a whim and apparently his species doesn’t have any kind of Google substitute. I will have to bring that up when we are reunited.

If we are reunited.

He might have given up on me. He never told me if he loved me. But he did try to keep me for himself. So that’s, I don’t know, encouraging. I know I’m grasping at straws.

“You will feel better at the IHPZ. All the imbalances of your previous life will be erased. You will no longer experience depression, or anxiety, or any kind of discontent. You will be matched with a mate, if your assessment indicates you would enjoy that, and you will be given the opportunity to reproduce in a contained environment. You will live the human dream.”

“Uh, that’s not the human dream.”

“It’s not?” Captain Zenith seems genuinely surprised. These scythkin think they know humans so well. They’ve basically appointed themselves the interstellar guardians of our species. But he doesn’t know shit about a cop from LA. He doesn’t fucking know me.

“No. I like… or, I don’t like whatever’s fucked up in my head, but I can accept that it is part of me. Maybe I’ll get it fixed one day. Maybe I’ll work through it or whatever. Maybe I’ll finally go to therapy. But what I won’t do is have it sucked out and replaced with some bullshit human programming of your choosing.”

“As I mentioned, you won’t really have a choice.”

And that’s where things get a little crazy, because I haven’t been entirely idle while I was in this sick bay. I’ve been paying attention to what goes zap, and what might potentially go boom. I’ve been looking for ways to cause maximum chaos so I can escape this ship of sharp aliens who think they know what’s best for me.