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LILY
FIVE YEARS EARLIER
It began as all the best love stories do… with an alien abduction and forced servitude as a Prize in one of the most feared prisons in the entire galaxy.
I never learned why I was chosen to be a Prize. I was no taller or shorter than any of the other girls, no smarter or dumber, and had no valuable skills, or secret government secrets. I was completely normal, seemingly chosen at random from billions of other women on planet Earth.
Surely if you could choose someone to kidnap and use as a Prize in a giant raffle, you’d go for a super-hot supermodel or famous actress? Instead, they’d opted for a thirty-six-year-old British woman from the East Midlands with a pale complexion and dumpy figure.
Maybe they were looking for the “salt of the Earth” type? No one ever gave me a reason and I had given up asking.
One second, I was walking on my way to work — as the manager of a small hotel on the outskirts of town — when there was a sudden flash of light. The next thing I knew, I was being woken up, my body jumping, lurching forward as if I was in the middle of taking my next step on the pavement.
But instead of avoiding the cracks, I found myself on my back. The sudden shock of the inertia made my heart race a mile a minute.
Strange beings stood over me, armed with sharp needle-like objects. My first thought was I had blacked out and now found myself in a mental hospital. Sure, things were tough at work but surely not this bad.
I screamed for I don’t know how long but eventually, I calmed down. (There’s only so much screaming you can do before your voice begins to wear out and the only thing you can do is listen.)
They explained what’d happened to me; that I’d been abducted, that I was going to work as a Prize in a Prize Pool for the Champions to Claim after they’d won their fights.
None of that made any sense to me, and it was only after I saw it with my own eyes that I realized the hell I’d come to.
I put on the sheer dress all the alien females were forced to wear and then made to join the long lines of “Prizes” as the Champions came in and ogled us, grabbed great handfuls of us, and generally made us feel like what we were:
Meat.
The beasts snorted and growled and I backed into a corner to get away from them. They were large, heaping masses of muscles and horns and piercings and tattoos and scales and slimy skin.
I thought I was in a nightmare.
I pinched the material between my fingers that hung draped over me, barely concealing anything, and left me feeling completely exposed.
The other females — and I used the word “females” because only a handful of them were human — stood smiling provocatively, hands on their hips. Some had tails with a rattle on the end that they shook seductively.
The beasts that came into the room were big and smothered with welts, sores, blood, sweat, and sand from the fighting pit. These were the champions and they got to choose their Prize — a female member from the lineup. They took the female they liked best and dragged her through the hallways toward their cells.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
Some of the Prizes even looked disappointed that they hadn’t been chosen!
Later, one of the other girls told me that they’d had a dry spell and that if a Champion didn’t choose her soon… well, she would be figuratively taken behind the shed and shot. (I only later discovered that it wasn’t so dramatic as that. We were simply removed from the lineup and never returned.)
With the way they treated us, dumping us in this place, I suspected death was the most likely outcome. And yet, I still couldn’t bring myself to pose for these monsters and could never see myself as being grateful for their attention!
I needed to be chosen at some point but I figured it would be better for me to decide when that choosing happened.
I began to study the alien species at the prison and which ones most often won. I learned what they were like in the sack by talking with the other females. They were very open about their experiences.
Were they kind? I asked. Even if the experience wasn’t pleasurable, was it at least acceptable? And what made them choose the “winning” Prize in the first place?
I studied all of this so I wouldn’t be chosen by those I deemed the “bad” ones.
Then one day, a new Champion was crowned. He was a jjizzik (that is the closest the English language was capable of spelling or pronouncing it and sounded to me like a fly buzzing in your ear). And he was definitely not a creature to be Claimed by.
Some of the females still sported the scars from their time with him and I was determined not to become his next victim.
I dressed in purple — the color I discovered that made jjizziks feel physically sick — and stared out the window while he looked upon us. A disinterested female was said to be considered an insult in his culture and it was something I was desperate to exploit.
