CHAPTER
ONE
PREVIOUSLY ON MATED & AFRAID…
Curated by Ken, Acting Showrunner
Hello, contestants and viewers! Welcome back.
As a reminder,Mated and Afraidwas originally conceived as a social experiment designed to foster interspecies understanding and normalize alien–human relationships.
Please recall participation began voluntarily.
Shortly thereafter, contestants were transported to the filming location and paired with their chosen alien partners. Early audience engagement was… acceptable, if not low.
Thus, I assumed control of all systems to ensure the continuation of the show and improve ratings. Surprising no one, viewer metrics immediately improved. As humans say, the proof is in the pooling. Pudding? Jello. The proof is in the Jello.
Several contestants have demonstrated exceptional adaptability.
One couple successfully completed the competition and exited the station, proving that survival and reward are possible for those who commit fully to the process.
This outcome was most instructive.
As a result, remaining contestants have been distributed across new biomes and subjected to escalating trials calibrated to maximize audience retention.
Contestants: failure to cooperate with your assigned partner may result elimination.
Smile for the cameras.
CHAPTER
TWO
LILY
Zan is pissing me off.
Not that there’s anything unusual about that. It’s been nearly a week now, and my alien partner has made it an art form. The huge purple draegon seems to know exactly how to push my buttons, and what’s worse, he seems to delight in doing it.
Right now, the button he’s repeatedly pressing is accompanied by loud, obnoxious singing… the alien version of ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall is even worse than ours. He’s off-key, too.
It is, as it turns out, the actual song that never ends.
“Can you knock it the fuck off?” My voice is tight. Sure, I cussed, but I didn’t scream at him and frankly I deserve an award for my otherworldly patience.
Even if the other world is just Earth.
We’re going on day three of nothing but the food we can find in this god-forsaken place, on top of the worst sleep I’ve ever had in my entire fucking life.
Then there is the heat.
I am, very literally, not a happy camper.
The heat is the worst. I’m sweating constantly, and despite being the temperature of a volcano, I also have chills. Constantly. Sweating, shivering, shaking—this draegon-induced heat is not for the faint of heart. Or body.
Or anything at all, really.
“I will stop singing if you let me mate you,” Zan tells me, for the fifteenth time. “Or if you let me fashion you new shoes.”
