3. Ree

3

Ree

There are women scattered in front of me like bright jewels and I'm to be their keeper.

After years of working one of the hardest jobs imaginable I'm not thrilled to be thrust into the role of brothel madam. Nine of them. All mine to keep in line, but right now they can't even fucking talk to me.

"Boredom is preferable to death," I mumble to myself, ensuring I'm only mouthing the words and not vocalizing.

No need to draw unneeded attention in this hell.

I'm locked into a tiny room of alien design, one side taken up by a viewing area for our captors. The walls and floors gleam like an ultramodern, sleek hotel, but appearances don't change the fact that it's a cell and we are captives. In a small hall connected to my glass cell are nine upright cryogenic chambers with women inside of them.

They face each other in pairs, with the one behind them offset just enough so the camera mounted at the back of my cell can see their full, naked bodies.

The only clothing we have is a thin band of black around our waists we aren't allowed to use. The women rest against the soft red fabric in what looks like peaceful slumber. At the end of the row another stands, as if waiting to be seated at the head of a table.

None of it matches the horror of our reality.

None of them know what I've learned. My jaw clenches as I think of trading places with them, but as their leader I am the one who is always awake with no reprieve from the terror.

I hate thinking of them as colors, but they're unable to tell me their names. There are ten of us in total. I'm Indigo, since it only seems fair to reduce myself to a color if I'm to do the same to them.

Some day soon I hope to find out each of their names and tell them my own.

Ruby, Azure, Emerald, Navy, Coral, Citrine, Diamond, Silver, and Amethyst. Each with skin tones chosen to best compliment their added shades. Making the pops of color of their long hair and the patch of pubic hair draw the eye.

The small triangle of the latter leaves little doubt where our alien 'artists' were trying to lead a wandering gaze.

Nine women I would have never met, but now we share a cell in a spaceship hurtling along through the universe. To where, I don't know, but I'm quite certain it will be very far from earth. Our abductors told me just enough to help keep my fellow harem-mates in line when the slimes wake us for our new master, but not a location.

That's right. We are to be sold at auction at the end of this space voyage to who knows where, to who knows what alien species as the highest bidder.

From what I've gathered, the slimes are opportunistic middle men who cater to any kind of taste, especially if it involves slaves. Judging by the constant string of comments on the live feed of my cell, they have no shortage of clients.

Ones that really enjoy it when the sticky bastards torture me, if the ratings ticker is any indication.

Fucking perverted pieces of . . .

I'm pulled from further musing by today's visit. The hatch creaks open in the observation room and I focus on keeping the tension it causes from showing. It seems our captors are back for more gloating and entertainment.

I drift in a slow turn as the squelching sounds of their footfalls across the floor causes a shiver to race down my spine.

This time it's only one of them.

I don't recognize which one. Just another amorphous gray blob with bulging black eyes.

They have a viscous pink substance always trailing down their skin and dripping onto the floor. The sight of it makes my stomach turn and I'm once again relieved to have a barrier between us so I can't smell them.

They are repugnant.

Nothing about them is the least bit attractive, as I realized from my very early impressions, but now my body reacts to the sight of them like they are somehow the epitome of all things sensual.

My skin is flushed and I'm getting wet and I fucking hate them for it. The rage steals my breath and my hands want to clench, but I force myself to remain relaxed.

At least on the outside. I can't do much about the roiling thoughts inside my head.

His disgusting eyes are roving over the women behind me as he settles into the control panel chair with a sickening squeak as his bare, wet skin contacts the surface. His body sags over the edges and his short legs jut out.

All of it dripping.

It's a struggle to keep my thoughts off my face. He moves his gaze to me, his nictitating membrane sweeping across his eyes from the side, roaming over my naked body and down to my thighs.

"I know you want me, whore, but you won't get me today."

He's confusing what my body is doing with motivation, but of course I don't correct him. There's bile at the back of my throat as I consider the disconnect between what my mind thinks and what my body is telling me.

I no longer trust it and it's yet another layer of violation.

He shifts so the camera can see him better and starts talking in his salesperson voice. It makes my skin crawl, but it's the only way I've gained useful information so I listen intently.

"We loaded this harem with a wide range of immune system boosting nanites that will keep them healthy, help them adapt to new environments, and slow aging."

Well, that explains why I now look to be in my early twenties instead of thirty-four. My twenties aren't an age I'd revisit of my own free will. I doubt anyone would pay this price to look young again.

"They will stay clean and smelling exquisite with our upgrades, regardless of how much seed you put into them, or whatever else you would like to stuff them full of. And you will absolutely love this special announcement . . ."

He leaves a dramatic pause while I try not to gag.

"Once you pump your way to ecstasy the first time, your harem will change in the most wondrous ways! Each tailored to your own genetic makeup. Be warned, however, that if you want to share them among friends of another species, you should be sure to break them in yourself first. Unless of course you want to think of a special friend each time you find a hole to fill."

He makes their honking version of a laugh, then continues.

"This species has plenty of cavities to choose from! And of course you can make more of your own thanks to the healing upgrade. You told us healing was an important base feature, and we listened. But don't you fear. There is no need to make further changes. The pocket between their delightful legs will always stay wet for you once you claim them. And although you can share them freely, they will be utterly devoted to you."

Well, that's false advertisement. I suppose for their purposes it doesn't matter, but I take my mental freedom as a minor victory.

Then that small voice of doubt whispers to me.

It's afraid he might be right.

The back of my neck prickles and my head swims when I picture myself mindlessly looking up at our new master with adoration in my eyes. I can't keep the slight tremors from my hands and have to clasp them in front of me.

He pulls up a recording on his console. It's a slime with a human woman and I dart my eyes away. The terror on the woman's face from the last video has haunted my dreams during the few times I've been able to rest. I needed to know what I was up against if they raped me, but the information came at a cost.

I make myself loosen my white-knuckled grip and take a slow, deep breath.

I think back over the caution to not share us with friends. It explains the clean room barrier. They must not be able to reverse whatever they did, and it's protecting us from rape. On this ship at least. Exposure to genetic material must start the changes he mentioned and they can't make it a targeted thing.

The thought of even more unwanted changes to my body makes my chest ache.

A feminine scream and a honking laugh interrupts my thoughts. I need a better distraction from the disturbing sounds of the video.

I turn to Silver, where she stands at the end of the hall, wishing I could talk to her and sort this all out. I don't know why, but something about her face makes me think she would be a great listener. She is beautiful, with gleaming ebony skin that sets off the silver of her long, curly hair. It falls around her in wavy cascades of shimmering light.

Like all of us, it extends well down her back.

I assume her eyes will be some shade of silver to match her hair, or maybe the hint of green it shows at certain angles. It will be striking on her, but I'm sure she'll hate the change as much as I hate my own. Just like all the other women I'm in charge of will despise it.

No one should have their body modified without their consent.

Not that consent plays much of a role in all of this but knowing something logically and not railing against the unchangeable anyway is impossible. It's a human curse. Human women must be a sought-after commodity in the universe and so we are doubly cursed. It brought the slimes to us, after all.

Vultures don't descend unless there is something to gain from it.

I blink, my mind wanting to provide a better example but I shake my head and move on.

I should have paid more attention to all those crazy shows about aliens. Maybe they had some advice for moments like these. My mind's spinning out and I realize I need to get myself under control. Three breaths in and out as I stare at Silver's lovely face and I'm more settled, if not calm.

The sound of the video cuts off and I dart my eyes back to the control panel.

"Well, enough of that. I realize many of you have been hoping to see more of this special collection moving around. We'll get some of those exciting bits bouncing for you in just the right ways!"

This is not good.

Whenever they talk about something being exciting, it means punishment.

Their form of entertainment involves either telling me how they would rape me, how vicious their clients are, showing videos of any version of the former, or flooding my room with tear gas. A glance down to the vents along the floor rules that out.

A sound from behind me makes me spin around.

Emerald's chamber is open.

There is a beep and then she falls. I don't make it to her in time and she crashes to the ground. Then I'm down with her, coughing and trying to wipe the streaming tears from my face so I can see her. She's still prone and is trying to expel the gas from her lungs.

Thankfully, the vent system whirs to life and I can breathe again and also make out the slime's words.

"Aren't they so delightfully powerless?"

My eyes clear enough to see her shaking form. She's looking around in shock as his grating voice breaks in again.

"Just imagine them bent over like that for your own purposes."

And with that, she's screaming. I can't blame her, but I also know where that path leads so I rush forward, put my hands on her shoulders to keep her in place, and put my mouth right next to her ear. "They won't stop pumping gas in here until you stop screaming. Just . . ."

I don't get to say more before we are coughing again.

When it clears, she is only making terrified moans, though I can tell by her wild eyes another scream is right under the surface. The slime keeps droning on about our body parts and where a buyer can put theirs as I pull her into my arms and whisper to her.

"I have you. I know this is terrifying, but it only gets worse if you seem scared. They like it."

Tears are streaming down both of our faces now, and not just because of the gas. "Wh-Where are we? What is that?"

"On a spaceship. Those aliens captured us."

The last prompts her to consider her surroundings. She does a double take when she sees the other women, then looks at me again.

"What did they do to your eyes?"

I hold back a groan.

I once had nearly black irises, but now they're aquamarine.

They must have decided that a human iris didn't make enough of an impact because my almond-shaped eyes are now, except for black pupil, completely blue. There is no more white sclera, and it's unsettling.

I don't tell her that her own eyes are a lighter version of her long green hair.

She's had enough of a shock.

She moves on to another question before I can answer her. "Why can I understand it?"

That one is easier to address. The slimes covered it in a very early advertising session.

"They put nanites in us that do lots of things, including somehow letting us understand and speak other languages."

What I leave out is that they loaded us with all the known languages in the universe, even those from species unlikely to be among our buyers. Their reasoning is that we can double as interpreters on pleasure cruises or invasions.

Such a waste of a hard-earned education. Brothel madam with an upgrade to allow for more enjoyable alien pillaging.

This has become my life.

She's shaking and crying and it's steadily eroding the careful control I've built up in order to not fall apart. That's the last thing she needs from me right now, so I push the rising panic back down.

"There's a live feed running at all times and they like it when we watch it. Don't look at it because you'll be able to read the comments," I warn her.

Of course it makes her look and I feel guilty even though I realize she would have found it anyway. Mostly I've ignored it, but in the long hours with nothing to do I haven't always been able to stop myself from seeking some sort of break in the mind-numbing sameness of it all.

I have regretted it every single time.

She shakes harder. "That's anatomically impossible."

I let out a mirthless chuckle. "I'm a nurse and so I was sure to point that out to them. They started showing videos of how buyers have sex. Avoid talking about it. Trust me."

She gulps, then nods. "My name's Olivia."

"I'm Ree."

The telltale hiss of an incoming punishment is our only warning before the torture begins anew. Once we gain control of our bodies again we cling to each other. Her arm is wrapped around my waist and mine around her shoulders as tears stream down our faces.

"You have no names until your buyer gives them to you," the slime says to us in a nasty tone.

He goes back to his salesperson voice. "That concludes our special session. We will bring another of the harem out to play soon."

He turns back to us, his eyes focused on me. "Put the green whore back in her chamber."

Our refusal ends up being futile, of course.

After multiple rounds of yelling out our defiance and choking on gas leaves our lungs aching, Olivia climbs back in. Tremors wrack her body, but we don't look away from each other.

Neither one of us flinch at the despair written in every anguish painted groove of skin.

We are both sobbing as the chamber closes and then she's still again and I'm trying to put the broken pieces of myself back together.

Feeling more alone than I ever thought possible.