Anders: An Auxem Novel

by Lisa Lace

  I felt a breeze of fresh air as the door of the craft opened. My assailants ushered me towards the exit. But as I leaned forward in the doorway, I felt the beefy fingers around my arms loosen. Taking advantage of the moment, I fished out the knife from my ankle strap and lunged ahead. I collided into several of the attackers. Rolling out of the doorway, I yanked the sack over my head and tossed it aside, looking around wildly with my fist gripped around the handle of my seven-inch knife.

  "Whoa! Stand down! General – it's us!"

  Although it was nighttime, it was still bright. My eyes were used to looking at the inside of a hood. I blinked away the flashing spots inhibiting my vision. As my sight returned, I saw seven figures around me wearing the same gray army fatigues as myself. I lowered my weapon and raised my eyebrows, bewildered. One by one, the best of my front line infantrymen rose from the ground, rubbing their heads and rolling their necks.

  "What the hell is going on here?" I demanded, sliding my knife back into place.

  "I told you fools this was a bad idea. Surprise?"

  Sergeant Major Dallas, my right-hand man, stuck his neck out of the shuttlecraft. The Zagwog refugee loomed over the rest of the crew, retracting a pair of white wings into his back. His eyes became narrow, which only made his ice-white irises brighter in the dark of the night. Gnarled dreadlocks swung around his face as he shook his head. He strode toward me and handed me my coat. I slipped it over my black tank top and turned to look at the four-story building behind me.

  Booming, fast-paced music leaked out of the joint's closed doors. Wealthy men in striped mintchilla coats, ape-skin hats, and platinum chains around their necks filed into the entrance. On the rooftop, colorful spotlights projected onto the skies. I read the sign over the door.

  "Jewels?" I mused, frowning. "A strip club? Did you boneheads drag me out of bed for this?"

  "It's a gentleman's club," Kraig corrected. The Command Systems Operator grinned, running a hand through the spiky strip of hair in the center of his shaved head. "We're all gentlemen, right? We thought we could surprise you. Now that you're tied down, we figured we'd throw you the bachelor party you never had."

  "Trust me, General," Maxwell, the Artillery Gunner, piped up. "I'm in here at least twice a week getting the VIP treatment. The girls here are unbelievable. They have the finest tits in town. I swear it on my Mama's grave."

  "I don't mean to be a buzz kill, but I'm not in the mood."

  "Come on, General," Maxwell pleaded. The other crewmen cried out with shared sentiments. "In all my years of service, I don't think you've ever been to a victory party. Not even the one after we busted the terrorists at Palace Square two years ago."

  "All right, all right. One drink," I conceded. Sighing, I fell to the back of the line as the eager soldiers paraded into the club.

  "King Jacquim and Princess Ayala send their blessings," said Dallas, walking next to me. "He booked us a private room, complete with bottomless drinks at the wet bar."

  "He didn't have to do that. Thanks for planning all of this. I appreciate it."

  "It's our pleasure, brother. I know this isn't normally your scene, but I'm sure you'll find a way to make it through this torture."

  The club was thick with scented mists and pink fog. There was a long phallic-shaped stage in the middle of the room. A voluptuous Maztek woman with bright orange hair suggestively pressed her back against the pole. Her nipples peeked out from the top of her tiny green bikini. With one hand clasped onto the pole, she cupped her other hand around the side of her breast. She massaged her cleavage, exploring the curves of her body to the intense beat of the song playing overhead. As she danced, the hungry men around her repeatedly threw credits in her direction.

  We headed for more illicit pleasure. I followed my men to the back of the seedy establishment. Save for a quizzical few, most of the clientele had their eyes glued onstage and paid no attention to the party of guffawing soldiers. I nodded at the pretty-faced cocktail waitresses staring at us. A blushing waitress wiggled her red eyebrows at me as she held open the door to our VIP room. I winked at her, thanking her softly as I shut the door behind me.

  The private suite had a tenfold increase in sterility and swank. A fully-stocked bar sat next to the plush, velvet couches. Three soundproof rooms were cordoned off behind red curtains. A dressed table filled with a bounty of roasted meat platters, sabertooth hog sandwiches, and desserts was pushed up against the wall. As a pudgy bartender entered the room and shuffled behind the bar, my men attacked the table of food head-on and started talking immediately.

  "Hey, General! Try one of the bluebird drumsticks. They're juicier than that orange-haired stripper's tits."

  "Nice. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" I replied, suppressing a grin. I grabbed a skewer and headed for the bar. "I need a drink. You kids have fun."

  A few minutes later, six women entered the room. A sketchy individual with the brim of his hat pulled over his eyes followed suit. He carried various sound equipment under his arms. As the man set up his music booth, the women began pairing off with my boys.

  A cute stripper with a short, triangular haircut and rows of hoops on both her ears squeezed into the gap next to me. Her short silver skirt barely covered her round ass cheeks. I tried to keep my eyes facing forward, but the tempting line of her bouncy cleavage was distracting.

  "General Lazarus?"

  "Can I help you?"

  "No, but I know I can help you," she whispered sultrily. She wrapped her slender fingers around my wrist. "Why don't you come with me?"

  "I'm flattered, but no thanks. Why don't you go ahead and take Maxwell?"

  "No can do, sir!" Maxwell interjected, sounding smothered. He pulled away from a pair of oiled breasts, taking a breather from his motorboating. His stripper squealed gleefully. "I'm a little busy here! Go on, sir. You'll be in good hands with Trixie."

  "Come on, General. I promise I won't bite."

  I allowed Trixie to lead me away as my men whooped in the background. We headed into one of the sequestered rooms. The VIP room for VIPs, I supposed. She gently pulled me until I was sitting on the edge of the only chair. Trixie called out a command, dimming the lights and firing up the sound system at the same time. The trippy bass line of a sizzling instrumental started to play softly. She said something else and a single spotlight turned on, illuminating the floor in front of me. Swallowing, I rested my palms on the armrests.

  Trixie positioned herself under the spotlight. She lowered her glistening eyes as a coy smile spread on her violet lips. Slowly, Trixie relaxed her body, swaying her hips. Running her fingers across the top of her dress, she pulled it down slightly, showing me a glimpse of her ample cleavage. Her natural brown skin looked smooth, and I wanted to touch it.

  She kicked off her heels one at a time, whirling around slowly to make sure I could see every part of her body. With her ass jutting forward, she dipped her head between her legs. The hem of her skirt was raised midway, exposing a black thong wedged between her meaty cheeks. I gritted my teeth, fighting the carnal urge to reach out and give them a good spanking.

  Knowing she had my full attention, Trixie wiggled her ass. She stood up straight and bit down on her lip. Her eyes locked on mine. As she glanced back at me, she lifted an open palm and smacked herself hard. It was like she could read my mind. The clothing around my crotch tightened at the sound of the hard slap. I felt movement between my legs when I saw the light pink flush across her quivering ass cheeks.

  "Can I tell you a secret, General?" She turned back to face me as she slowly unzipped her dress on the side.

  "By all means," I croaked.

  "I love dancing for a man in uniform."

  I spread my legs, settling against the back of my chair for the first time. Trixie's dress dropped to the floor, gathering around her ankles. She was wearing a complicated web of latex lingerie and looked stunning. I felt like I was losing control of my eyes as they ate up every inch of her hot little body. Two bl
ack strips barely covered her nipples, which highlighted the immense size of her tits. Two crisscrossing layers of cloth covered her cute snatch, revealing the vibrant dye on her trimmed pubes around the edges.

  She reached to the side for a tube of perfumed oil and unscrewed the top. Drizzling the thick amber liquid onto her body, she rubbed the oil over her arms and legs. She started fondling her breasts with her slick fingers, easing the latex strips off her nipples. Her nipples were perkier than I had pictured them. By now, my cock was fully erect. Its tip prodded against the crotch of my pants.

  Trixie danced around me, placing her chin on my shoulder. She hooked her arms around my neck, sliding her hands down my chest. Undoing the front of my jacket, she leaned in and whispered in my ear.

  "Do you know what I find hotter than a man in uniform? When the guy isn't aware of how unbelievably sexy he is."

  She slipped one hand under my black tank top, feeling the grooves of my stomach. As my shoulders tensed up, sweat started to form on the back of my neck. She began to fumble with the waistband of my pants. My heart drummed against my chest. I could feel her warm fingers inching lower and lower.

  As she dragged her hot tongue behind my ear, my eyes glanced at the floor-length mirror across from me. It was like watching myself star in a porn video. For a split second, I considered yielding to my base instincts, and letting myself sit back while she played with my engorged cock. I watched as she unlaced the bow on her hip. The moist strips over her pussy began to loosen.

  It was too much. "That's enough, Trixie," I announced gruffly, awkwardly rising from the chair.

  "Where are you going? I'm just getting started here."

  Buckling up the front of my coat, I extracted a folded bill from one of my pockets and left the tip on the chair. I headed toward the exit, clinging to one side of the curtain like it was a shield. Taking note of the disappointed sigh behind me, I turned back to Trixie.

  "It's not you. You're beautiful. Have a good night."

  When I left, I made sure the curtain was closed again so Trixie could get redressed.

  "That was quick!" Maxwell boomed from across the room. "You know you can have Trixie for another twenty-five minutes, right?"

  "I bet he didn't even finish. The General's bride isn't here yet, but she's already got him whipped. Must be some broad, huh, sir?" Jarrod, our Sniper Scout, joked.

  I shrugged at my men, double-tapping my elbow at them. I needed a drink. I exchanged pleasantries with the bartender and ordered a bitter ale. The bartender slid a frosted mug of fizzy, dark green liquor across the counter. As I caught it smoothly with my right hand, Dallas appeared at my right side.

  "Pay them no mind, Laz." Dallas leaned his elbows against the counter and took a swig from his glass. "They're just messing around. There's nothing wrong with wanting to settle down. It gets lonely out here."

  "I hear that."

  "Tell me about this girl, Gabriella. Do you really think she's your naima? A human?"

  My shoulders rose up defensively at the mention of the word. I looked around me to make sure the rest of the men were out of earshot. I would never allow the other subordinates to cross the barrier into my personal life, and I didn't want to appear weak. Even though I would die before admitting it, I was in search of my naima like everyone else. I didn't know if she was Gabriella or not.

  At this point, I had made my peace with the fact that I could potentially never find my naima. I didn't know what had compelled me to place a bid on her in the first place. All I knew was that I needed to see her again. It felt right.

  "You never know. There's a first time for everything, right?"

  My words trailed off as I glanced at the screen on the wall. The game of Krog-ball was interrupted by an emergency news broadcast. Flashing headlines scrolled under the solemn-faced reporter.

  "This just in. Under Synic's command, the Xylox army has shot down shuttle Alpha-912, transporting brides from Earth to Maztek. Eight human brides and ten crew member perished in the crash. Xylo soldiers have taken control of the site of the accident. They are holding the remaining brides and crew members as hostages."

  The news station switched to a crude live-action feed from planet Xylox. I set my drink on the counter and squinted at the screen. Unfortunate, but none of my concern. The monitor panned to a shot of the brides marching into the Xylo military base.

  When I saw the humans, I realized this incident would affect me. Gabriella was the third to last in line. It looked like she had tried to style her blonde hair but it was currently unruly. Her clothing was muddy and torn. She looked scared. I was relieved to see she was unharmed, but at the same time, I felt my gut wrench with a spike of fear.

  "Assemble the men," I instructed Dallas. "We're headed to Xylox."

  Chapter Four

  GABRIELLA

  I cracked my eyes open one at a time. I was lying on the ground and my nose itched. As I tried to move my hand to scratch the tip of my nose, I realized my arms were stuck. I looked down at my body, feel a sense of dread overcome me. Heavy chrome handcuffs restrained both my wrists and ankles.

  My extremities were falling asleep. How long had they bound me like this? I whimpered, attempting to wriggle my ankles, but I got an unpleasant surprise. When I moved, blue bolts of electricity sparked from the handcuffs. A sharp jolt stung the bare flesh of my arms and legs. Shit. I guess I wasn't going anywhere soon. The electric shocks weren't the only thing causing me pain; my entire body was sore, riddled with painful sensations through my back and limbs.

  There were bars all around me. I was locked in one of many full-sized cages filling the vast space of a dungeon. It didn't hurt too much when I turned my head. Looking around, I saw other brides from the ship imprisoned just like me, one to a cage. Some were shivering uncontrollably. Others cried. A few whispered prayers into the dark. Blue fluorescent lights illuminated the room, which made the rusted industrial bars of our cages appear sinister.

  I was petrified. I wanted nothing more than to raise my voice and cry for help, but the gloominess of my surroundings and the aches in my body sucked up all of my remaining energy.

  Where was my friend? "Cheyenne?" I whispered. My voice surprised me. It was trembling and squeaky. Speaking the two syllables made me realize my throat was burning too. The beverage cart on the TerraMates shuttle was far away. I closed my chapped lips. I wouldn't be able to drink a cold glass of water any time soon.

  I heard a voice on my right croak out my name. As it turned out, Cheyenne was in the cage next to me. Her formerly springy curls were now frizzy and disheveled, erupting from her head at crazy angles. Her glazed eyes looked swollen and puffy. I was certain she had been crying for hours before I regained consciousness. She seemed to be in shock and stared straight ahead. If it weren't for her heaving chest, she wouldn't be moving at all.

  "Cheyenne, are you okay?"

  She turned toward me. Fresh tears started streaming down her face. One clung to the base of her quivering chin. Her nose had been rubbed raw, and streaks of red marred her cheeks. Although her emotional condition looked terrible, there were no signs of physical damage other than some scrapes on her neck and elbows.

  "Are you hurt?"

  She shook her head slowly.

  I felt like I needed to say something to cheer her up. "Hang in there. It's going to be okay."

  A harrowing scream pierced through the eerie quiet of the room.

  "It's not going to be okay. It's Synic again," breathed Cheyenne.

  "Huh?" I whispered. "Who's that?"

  Before I could get a response from Cheyenne, my question answered itself. I saw a flicker of motion and my eyes moved toward the far left of the cages across from me. An imposing figure wearing a crimson full-body cloak led a group of eight guards toward the cluster of cells. The leader's matching red mask was a frightening visual. It had tinted yellow goggles in the eye sockets, and a large hooked beak that covered his face and nose.

  I wondered if the mask help
ed him breathe or if it was supposed to enhance his appearance. I hoped he needed the mask for medical reasons because I didn't want to know what his natural face looked like, if his mask was that ugly.

  The alien guards following Synic looked just as terrifying. Their facial features and builds were humanoid, but the back of their bald heads had swelled up to twice normal size. On the back of their ugly deformed heads was a disgusting pouch that I couldn't help observing. Pink and blue veins covered their heads. Their skin looked dull and white, as if they had never seen sunlight. They dressed better than Synic, wearing color-coordinated black and maroon combat attire. The guards were also well-trained, moving in unison.

  Synic raised a leather gloved hand in front of him, spreading his fingers wide. A rattling cage door violently opened in response to his unseen command. Synic curled his fingers into a fist and yanked it back. The shuttle attendant in the pink zero-gravity boots lurched forward, crumpling to the ground by Synic's feet.

  What the fuck? Was this guy using the Force or did he have super-science at his disposal?

  The attendant's poofy hairstyle was now matted flat against his shiny forehead. Though dried blood covered his battered face, it looked as if he hadn't shed a single tear. I guess he was more of a man than he appeared on the surface. Even though his hands and legs were restrained just like mine, he slowly lifted himself to his knees. One of his shoulders was dislocated and hung limply at his side. I rooted for him silently, watching in horrified awe as the attendant kneeled on the ground.

  "Are we ready to start talking now?"

  The nonchalance in Synic's words made me uncomfortable. His crackling, metallic voice reverberated across the dungeon.

  The attendant didn't look up, keeping his eyes focused on the dusty, cracked floor. The guard on his right raised the butt of a rifle and smashed it into the side of the attendant's face. A loud, nauseating crack ripped across the room. The attendant keeled over, crying out in agony. Even though I couldn't see Synic's face, I imagined a slow, vicious grin creeping across his lips.