Prey For The Tedoleran (Tedolerans Book 5)

by Aurora Caine

  Prey For The Tedoleran

  Tedolerans 5

  Aurora Caine

  A Dark Sci-Fi Romance Novella

  Contents

  Prey For The Tedoleran

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Mailing list

  Prey For The Tedoleran

  Kate

  Leave Earth and move to New Terran, they said. It will be fun, they said.

  You know what isn't fun? Being abducted, displayed on an interstellar slave market, and sold to a strange alien guy who tries to feed me dinner that's alive, as in still-wiggling-on-my-plate-alive.

  Nope. I'm out of here. So I bail—only to find myself in an even worse situation . . .

  Tausav

  I did not know humans could talk. I did not know they were highly sought after and expensive. But one look at Kate and her enticing curves and I get it. There is only a tiny problem: her owner paid me to retrieve her, not to keep her.

  Well, too bad for him, right?

  Dark sci-fi romance novella with wildly over-the-top action, a curvy heroine, and an HEA.

  1

  Kate

  Leave Earth and move to New Terran, they said. It will be fun, they said.

  Well, let me tell you that sitting in a giant cage in the middle of a freaking alien marketplace really isn't that much fun. Seeing all those strange aliens ogling me also doesn't feel like a joke.

  After the transport I was on got hijacked right after launching to space, I still hoped someone would jump up at us and yell, "You just got pranked!"

  But nobody came, and since then, my panic gets worse with every passing moment.

  I'm literally sitting in a birdcage in a shop specialized in selling exotic merchandise. Back on Earth, I got an implant that helps with understanding all kinds of alien languages, so I'm well aware of what's going on. The slaver who is trying to sell me, on the other hand, has no idea about humans. He looks like a mix between a very old man and a poodle walking on two legs. His language has a lot of hissing sounds and clicks, but I understand him perfectly fine. He praises me for my big tits and my docile behavior. I'm anything but docile. I'm just smart enough to keep my piehole shut and observe.

  I can't even explain how scary it is to listen to a poodle-like creature that tries to sell me either as a sex toy or as a delicacy ready to be eaten.

  I've been here for a few days now, maybe three or four, and have seen a lot of other slaves being sold just like the fabrics, spices, and clothes they're selling in the other booths at this market.

  So far, I learned that crying, yelling, biting, and kicking don't do you any good except getting shocked with the alien slaver's version of a cattle prod. By the amount of convulsing and saliva running from the shocked creatures’ mouths, it's quite a painful shock that has them twisting and turning their bodies. I don't feel inclined to experience it myself, so I keep my mouth shut and try to be as invisible as possible.

  At least here I get fed twice a day and only probed when a potential buyer eyes me. So far, I've been pinched by a reptilelike creature and petted by a big gray guy with horns, but nobody has bought me.

  As soon as the new customer enters the shop and I hear the slaver hiss with excitement while gesturing into my direction, I know that my peaceful stay will come to an end.

  The alien coming toward me doesn't look too scary besides the fact that he has four arms. His skin is a pale yellow, and he smiles at me. No sharp teeth, no claws—so he probably doesn't want to eat me, unless he cooks me first.

  I don't know why, but while I calculated my options, I came to the conclusion that being eaten alive is my worst nightmare. Not that being fucked against my will is better, but at least then I have a chance of making it out alive.

  Alai'i'ir, the slaver, has no idea that I'm capable of speaking because I only ever sit there and listen while he tries to sell me.

  "Look at this one," he hisses and clicks with a huge smile, showing all his poodle teeth. "She's perfectly healthy."

  "I like them fat," the buyer agrees. "Makes them sturdy and more durable." Both aliens cackle because they obviously think they're hilariously funny. They aren't.

  And did the buyer really just call me fat?

  He even does one better and motions for the seller to open the cage. I can almost see the alien equivalent of dollar signs in the slaver's eyes as he unlocks the cage.

  I want to yell, scream, and kick at them, but I know it will do me no good. Let them think I'm stupid, and as soon as I get the chance, I will flee.

  The four-armed guy steps closer and puts all his hands on my body at the same time. I feel as if a squid is groping me. At least he's careful and not too predatory. He touches my arms and squeezes my belly, grunting with appreciation. It's as weird as it is flattering.

  I've always been insecure about my body because it's more probable that I grow a second head before I fit into a size 2 or 4 dress, and seeing that this guy only considers buying me for my weight shouldn't be that flattering.

  His palms graze my boobs ever so lightly before he grips my hips with surprising strength and pulls me out of the cage. He puts me on the ground, and I barely come up to his nose. As far as I can tell, he's financially well-off and clean, at least. His smell is unfamiliar, but he doesn't reek of chemicals and sour breath like some of the other potential buyers.

  With two of his four hands on my shoulders, he turns me around, using his other hands to smack my ass and touch my hair—all at the same time.

  "What is its name? It is female, correct?"

  The slaver bows down. "That is correct. She doesn't speak, so she hasn't told me."

  The four-armed guy shrugs. "As long as she moans, I will be happy. I will feed her well, and in return, she will show her gratitude with sexual favors."

  "She will, she will." The slaver's smile is even wider now.

  The buyer touches my belly again before his fingertips trail over my round hips. "She looks like she could be used for breeding."

  It takes a lot for me not to scream hysterically at the thought alone. But I play it smart, play it safe, and just blink meekly like I have no idea what's going on.

  "Can she be bred?"

  "There's only one way to find out." The slaver howls with laughter.

  "You're right. How much is she?"

  "For you, my good friend and loyal customer, 20,000 credits. Believe me, this is a bargain."

  The four-armed guy nods slowly. He turns to me, and without any warning, he grips my jaw and pries my mouth open to inspect my teeth. He puts his lower hands under my boobs and lifts them to feel the weight.

  Since I paid around 800 credits for the relocation, a year's rent on New Terran, and the transport shuttle from Earth, I figure that 20,000 credits is a pretty horrendous price. Should I take this as a compliment? I'm not sure.

  The alien carefully kneads my boobs. "Deal. She's magnificent."

  "Great. You want to collar her, my friend?"

  "Yes."

  "Then follow me." The slaver turns and hurries deeper into his shop.

  I've never seen anything other than the view from the front of the shop since I've been drugged shortly after the attack on the transport shuttle I was in and woke up in the cage. My buyer drags me along, and I crane my neck to see everything. It's a pretty depressing sight. The whole store is packed with cages and crates; almost all of them are filled.
There are tiny creatures, no taller than a hamster on Earth, and huge cages with aliens the size of hippos. As far as I can tell, most of them are female, but I also see some males. There's no doubt because each and every one of the potential slaves is naked like me. I'm not the most experienced woman, but I know a dick when I see one.

  A few of the guys have scars and are packed with muscles, so the first thought that springs to my mind is that they must be gladiators or something like that. I glance back at my buyer, and although I'm not happy, I'm aware that it might be much, much worse. At least he doesn't seem to be mean. I just hope he isn't into torturing and raping women. Or eating them alive.

  The slaver stops in front of a wall filled with all kinds of leashes and collars, some of them looking like jewelry, some of them covered in menacing spikes—on the inside and outside. I look back to one of the caged huge males and see his neck covered in marks, fitting those particular nasty collars. This is bad, very bad.

  My buyer hands the slaver his comm device, and the money is transferred before the four-armed guy picks a sleek silver ring off the wall. He opens it and puts it around my neck. It snaps close, and when I lift my hands to feel it, there's no give. I can't take that damn thing off.

  "My name is Bruul Ixt'i'r Ab'del Il Efae'e'r." My buyer touches my cheek. "I would say you can call me Master, but since you can't speak, I guess that's not necessary."

  Again, I just stare blankly at him.

  He shrugs. "I guess I'm the first Boral on New Choce to buy a human pet. So exciting."

  "And you probably are the only one rich enough to do so." Alai'i'ir bows down again. "Thank you for your business. It is greatly appreciated."

  "Thank you for alerting me that you have a fat one. I will be sure to recommend your shop to my friends."

  A fat one? My feelings are sincerely hurt while I listen to Alai'i'ir and Bruul exchanging a few more pleasantries. I'm almost disappointed that I decided to pretend not being able to speak, or I could tell Bruul that Alai'i'ir didn't alert him immediately but rather sold him the shelf/cage warmer.

  A fat one. Fuck Bruul. I try pulling at the collar again, but it's useless.

  Only a moment later, Bruul attaches a leash to the collar and starts walking out of the store, dragging me along. I almost stumble over my own two feet before I follow him to the exit. My heart is racing, and I'm sweating bullets since I realize that I'm going to be very naked among a lot of strangers very soon.

  To my surprise, everyone clears the path and bows down when Bruul passes. I guess he is either powerful or simply rich enough to be important. There's a small spaceship waiting, smaller than the transport pod I was on but larger than a car on Earth.

  As Bruul approaches the space car thingy, another four-armed guy gets out and opens a hatch in the back for us to enter. I have to look at him twice because I count six eyes on that guy, and I'm not sure if I'm having a stroke or not.

  "Master." Six Eyes bows down and only ever so slightly glances in my direction with half of his eyes. It's confusing to say the least.

  Bruul doesn't even acknowledge him. He sits on a plush bank and pets the seat next to him. "Here, my pretty one. I hope I'll be able to teach you some basic commands. You'll have to learn how to pleasure me."

  I'm not sure if I should continue to pretend that I'm stupid or if I should tell him the truth. So I just stand there, staring blankly at him, trying to figure out my best move.

  My new owner sighs, tugs lightly at the leash, and pets the seat cushion again. Maybe he'll be nice as long as he thinks I have to be trained like a puppy.

  I take the first step toward him, and he smiles. "Very good," he purrs.

  He is almost handsome when he smiles. I just have to ignore the third and fourth arm. And his pale yellow skin. And the fact that he just bought me from a slaver.

  I sit, and the soft fabric feels lush against my skin. After being held naked in a cage for a couple of days and sitting on the hard ground, this feels like heaven.

  I flinch as Bruul touches my belly and smooths down my hair at the same time.

  "I should probably feed you." Two of his hands are rubbing circles on my belly, and I don't know how to deal with the attention. On Earth, I was always trying to hide my extra weight like everyone around me was blind and wouldn't notice that I'm overweight as long as I covered myself with "flattering" clothes. Meanwhile, Bruul looks as if he wants to lick my belly button within the next three seconds.

  He uses the one hand that is not busy touching me to open a compartment in the wall behind him and produces a plate with confections. He stops petting my hair and instead pops a piece of chocolate in his mouth. "See, this is good. Open up."

  He takes another piece and holds it in front of my lips. I'm about to obey him when I realize that the "confections" are . . . squirming on the plate. They wiggle and vibrate like they are alive.

  I narrow my eyes and stare at the piece of chocolate in his hand. From this close, it looks like a very, very tiny mix of a squirrel and a duck. Kicking fruitless at the air, the mini creature opens its beak as if to scream.

  I swat at Bruul's hand and scoot away from him. There's no way in hell that I'm going to eat . . . whatever that is.

  "You don't like that, pretty one? Would you rather have some Purdan?" He puts the squirrel-duck down and picks another thing with a wormy body and giraffe legs.

  I fight the urge to puke and shake my head like crazy.

  "Aren't you hungry? We don't want you to lose your fat, do we?" He speaks like I always spoke to Mr. Fluff, my sister's kitten.

  Tears prick at my eyes just thinking of my sister, and I have to fight them down.

  Before I can lose myself in the memory of home and how much I suddenly miss my family, Bruul puts the plate away and whips out his dick without any warning at all.

  It is every bit as yellow as the rest of him and as thick as his sturdy built had me suspecting. He also has the largest, longest foreskin I have ever seen, and I have no idea if it's supposed to look like that. All my boyfriends were circumcised, and I don't have a lot of experience when it comes to foreskin—let alone alien foreskin.

  "Maybe you're hungry for something else, my pretty one?" One of Bruul's hands gently grabs my neck, and we start the old "trying to evade the blowjob" game.

  Unfortunately, he's much stronger than me, and his dick is coming closer and closer while I can see the wiggling plate out of the corner of my eye. This is not happening. Oh my god. This is not happening.

  And it really isn't because the six-eyed Boral opens the hatch and bows down. "We have arrived, Master."

  "Why are you disturbing us? Aren't six eyes enough to see I'm busy?"

  I didn't even notice that we were moving, but I don't have time to worry about it because I see my opportunity.

  Bruul hisses at his driver, who steps back and hunches over in shame. I can see an alien mansion. We're in the driveway in front of the giant house and a forest.

  Normally, I'm more of the hesitant type, so it's kind of a surprise to me that I actually start running the very same second. Like I promised myself, I bolt the first chance I get. I can hide in the forest. Forests are forests, no matter if the trees are blue with red leaves. I just need to hide.

  "No! Stop!" Bruul yells behind me.

  I only run faster.

  2

  Tausav

  Why Gordan and my brother chose to settle on Jittania Prime is a mystery to me. Before I visited for the first time, I even was a tiny bit enthusiastic. An outlaw planet and everyone living on it doing their own thing, unbothered by interstellar politics and other boring stuff? It sounded too good to be true.

  And it was. I came to understand that my definition of an outlaw planet differs entirely from whoever decided to call Jittania Prime that. Everything here is so . . . quiet. Quaint. Boring.

  No unregulated fights, no races, no action whatsoever—just vegetation, pink skies, blue trees, and all the other stuff that feels like something fr
om an Ushbaki folk poem. Jittania Prime is the idea of an outlaw planet for people who just want to live off the grid. A vacation resort masking as a thrilling alternative to life in the regulated systems. A marketing ploy. If it had a tourism office, I would send them my respectful regards for a job well done.

  But what do I care? I do not have to live here, and what Gordan and Brackon are doing is none of my concern. It is their lives after all.

  At least Gordan was happy about the Bronia berries I brought him. For his stupidly pleased grin alone, the trip was worth it, and him pouring kloshlu way more generously than usual did not hurt either.

  Yet what could have been a nice day was cut short by Gordan himself basically showing me the door. He tried to be polite and subtle about it but failed. When I asked, he said he needed to take care of something in private that could not wait.

  He squirmed himself out of giving any further explanation. Lucky for him, I never pry, so I dropped the topic. Also, Gordan can have all the secrets he wants, even though it irritates me. Usually, he loves to brag about his business and indulges in overly detailed stories until I stop him. So why the sudden change? Is there something he does not want me to know?

  I shrug it off as I leave my ship and head for my brother's habitat. Maybe Gordan was just having a rough day. He will come around. He always does.

  At least now I can surprise my brother. Sneaking to the back door, I find myself smirking. I am sure Brackon has gotten slow ever since he moved here. There is no constant danger present, nothing forcing him to stay vigilant, and that means I will be able to jump him, which, in turn, means I will win another one of those brotherly battles that will probably continue until we are dead. He does not expect me, and I landed the ship intentionally far away from his habitat, so he did not see me yet.