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“A common misapprehension,”I commiserate. My brother, Kahn, should never have sold this girl. I had words with him about it, but he said he’d found her in the stock section. I didn’t put her there, and I am almost certain she was probably trying to sneak her way out when she was sold.
This is not the time for anI told you so, but at the time, I did contact the family and warn them that they had been sold a pet who was not entirely trained. They insisted on keeping her, of course. They thought she was cute, and at first her antics were funny. They refused to return her, and I had no legal recourse to reclaim her. That was all of three days ago.
No matter how many times I give new human owners the spiel about human care, or how many times I revise myAlien’s Guide To Keeping People As Pets, there is no such thing as an easy human. They may be more simple than us, smaller than us, and live relatively short lives, but they are complex, social beings.
“You do have to speak to the humans. They can’t hear your thoughts.” I say that out loud, demonstrating how it is done. Though they are returning this young lady, there is a significant chance they will buy another. Humans have become status symbols on Euphoria. My brother and I can barely keep up with the demand from aristocratic families.
“Speaking is so…”The lady of the house makes face of disgust.“I don’t want the children picking up the habit.”
I know Kahn would have told them about speaking to their human, and I know he would not have sold her without their enthusiastic agreement. I’ve seen it many times before, excited families oohing and aaahing over the human pet they just picked out, promising to love him or her forever and telling me how very experienced they were with humans, having had several before.
I would be disappointed, but unfortunately, unprepared owners and difficult pets are a common enough phenomenon in my line of business. Education is important, as is righting wrongs when they arise.
“Wewill always accept returns,”I say.“Let’s take her back and put her safely in a cage, and we can get your refund processed.”
2
Jen
I’m stuck over the shoulder of the alien, his big palm clasped over my ass to keep me in place. He touches me with casual intimacy. He holds me like he owns me. I’d almost forgotten in just the handful of days I was with the aliens who just returned me that he was this comfortable with handling me. They were not. I’ve sunk my teeth into more skin and scales in the last 72 hours than I have in my entire life. I’d bite him too, but the way he’s holding me makes it completely impossible.
This alien is an asshole with a savior complex. He has the nerve to think turning me into a commodity to be sold is doing me a favor. I thought I’d escape the family but they have been just competent enough to keep me contained long enough to get here. Their houses are built to their size, and reaching some of the latches and things is a challenge, especially when they tie you up every chance they get. I have chafe marks around my wrists and ankles from being bound by these stupid fucking aliens.
Arkan, the alien who has me now, is eight feet tall, offensively handsome, and I hate him. I keep squirming in the effort to escape his grip, but all that happens is his fingers palm my ass a little harder in warning.
These aliens can best be described as something between an elf and an orc with just a hint of dragon besides. Arkan has the cool, calm, superior demeanor of an elf, along with the crystalline gaze and the long, flowing purple-blue hair. He has the musculature and lower tusks of an orc, and he has the light scaling on the outside of his shoulders and arms, and probably legs of a dragon with a sort of bare-ish patch along his torso, and I suppose all the way down his stomach. I don’t know what environment they evolved in, and I don’t give a fuck.
I’ve seen more of these aliens than I ever wanted to. They don’t regard me as a sentient being because I can’t talk like they do inside their heads, so they have a tendency to walk around me while they’re naked. I’ve seen some alien dong, in other words, not Arkan’s, but the man of the house. He was hung like the proverbial equine.
My ass is stinging from where Arkan’s stupid big alien hand made contact with my rear through the stupid pet clothes that barely cover anything. The lady of this alien family thought it would be fun to get me all kinds of outfits. She must have spent a whole lot of alien money on getting me looking just right, and then I refused to wear any of it, insufferable, insulting costumes that they were. It took them a good hour to wrestle me into the clown-colored ballerina costume I’m currently wearing. Talk about humiliation.
Arkan is carrying me away from them now, to the back of the store. He tips me off his shoulder and into a human sized cage he has back there. Immediately, I see and smell that I am not alone. There’s another person in a nearby cage, some guy cowering in the corner. Poor bastard. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen to him. He must be terrified.
“Behave yourself,” Arkan warns me in perfect English.
“Go fuck yourself,” I reply.
He smiles at me, flashing a big mouth full of rather sharp teeth. These aliens really look very dangerous. They’re impossibly tall, and they are made like predators. But they’re advanced, and so they don’t use that strength aggressively, as far as I can tell. They’re intellectual and they talk telepathically, and they really enjoy a very orderly world. Every part of their city is artisanal and original, including their pets, which unfortunately includes me.
“I’ll deal with you later,” he says. “Once I have dealt with the traumatized owners you’ve created.”
“Fuck all of you,” I respond. I’d never admit it, but I am actually very relieved to be talking to someone, because the aliens he sold me to have absolutely no idea how to communicate verbally. I’ve spent the last god knows how many days in a veil of tense and stressed silence.
Arkan lifts a brow at me and shakes his head in a gesture that reads very much as human. His pale, ice-colored hair falls around his powerful features in a rakish veil. Hs eyes are the color of gold and rimmed with lashes of dark blue. His chin, jaw, and entire mandibular plane is chiseled in the extreme. He’s hot. He is way too fucking hot. But not too hot to hate.
I glare at him with all the loathing I can muster. This is all his fault. He did this to me. He thinks humans are animals he has the right to sell. I will make him regret ever taking me. I will ensure that every time he sells me, I ruin his reputation a little more.
I went out of my way to destroy everything at the house of the aliens where I was sold. They don’t say much, but they made some very interesting noises when they discovered that I’d slashed all their furniture using what I guess was a ceremonial knife. It was hanging on the wall just begging to be used for some good old-fashioned vengeance.
After locking me away, he goes back out to the front to silently negotiate whatever it is he’s going to give them in terms of compensation. I hope I’m costing him a lot more than I’m worth.
As soon as he is gone, I turn my attention to the other person in the other cage.
“Hey, buddy,” I hiss.
A pair of dark eyes appears behind the bars. He’s a guy, maybe in his thirties. He looks scared. He should be. There’s nothing for us here on this planet. And there’s no way back home that I’ve seen. The only small glimmer of hope I can see is that I might be able to convince this alien trader of human flesh to take me home if I am enough of a fucking pain in the ass.
“Hey,” he says. “What the fuck is going on? I think I must have taken something. I’m tripping balls and seeing blue people.”
