Page 31 of I Punched an Alien and Now We’re in Couples Therapy

Dorothy mentioned the complete lack of research the Biwban put into this project. I’d yet to see the nonsensical AI billboards they’d apparently scattered around the planet, but looking at the clear guesswork thrown into this therapist’s office, I doubted her rage was unjustified.

With her lies exposed for the room to see, little miss therapist shrank farther into her seat and shuffled those damn papers again. “Why don’t we go over your match with Subject S 52? From what I’ve gathered, you two have had a rather unpleasant start to things. If you are amenable to it, we could wipe your memories and orchestrate a more suitable meet-cute?”

“I’m sorry…did you say ‘orchestrate a meet-cute’?”

Her crest feathers twitched. “That is the proper term for a couple’s first meeting, yes?” she reached a hand toward the long feathers on her wing, then paused and flipped through the papers in front of her.

“Show me the papers.”

“What?”

“The papers,” I said again slowly. “Show them to me.”

“I…there’s no need to—”

I crossed the room and snatched the papers out of her hand. Raising them far above her head so she couldn’t snatch them back, and flipped it over, my eyes scanning for anything—scribbles, doodles, heck, even a coffee stain. But nope, nada. Just a blank stare from a piece of paper as empty as a politician’s promises. “I knew it, empty.” I turned the papers around to show Osid.

The king merely blinked, unimpressed. I rolled my eyes and tossed the papers over my shoulder. “What’s your real job, Dr. Hilt?”

“I have been appointed to fulfill the role of human couple’s therapist, your guide on this journey of…emotional enlightenment.”

“Emotional enlightenment?” I echoed, my brows climbing up my forehead. “Sounds like a bad self-help book you’d find in the bargain bin.”

She looked me over for a moment, then softened her gaze. “Subject 12, I completely understand how you may be feeling, and I want you to rest assured that we don’t expect you to be able to fall pregnant without your particular human needs met.”

Directing my attention to the screen, she played a video where a pink T. rex was strapped to an operating table. A Biwban held a long-feathered stick close to her snout while a large collection cup was shoved beneath her mouth. The Biwban tickled at the T. rex’s mouth until the beast grew frustrated and bit into the top of the cloth of the collection cup. “As you can see here, we’ve managed to isolate the serotonin in the T. rex’s venom and cross it with phenylethylamine derived from seaweed to re-create the mood-boosting effects of chocolate. It will take more time to perfect the exact taste, but our research team is well on its way. And you’ll be happy to know that our researchers did find a coffee plant in their scans. Subject 4 has already instructed us to make it available throughout your environment.”

Dorothy, you clever bitch. I would follow you into battle.

Sighing, I returned to my spot on the couch and let my body sag into the soft cushions. “Just tell me what you want.”

This caused her to brighten. “Excellent! As I was saying, this session is meant to open a dialogue between you and Subject S 52. Why don’t we start by removing the bindings from his mouth? There should be a blue button on the back of his wrap—”

“Nah, he’s fine,” I interrupted.

Osid’s tail whipped against my legs as he growled something unintelligible from behind his gag.

Chuckling, I pointed to the offending tail. “You see? Can’t trust this one. Say, what are the odds of me getting a second mate like Dory did?”

The body beneath my legs heated to a fever pitch as teal eyes tried to incinerate me on the spot.

Oh, honey dearest did NOT like that question.

I blew him a kiss.

“Subject 4?” the doctor asked. “Hers is an unusual case, but not unheard of. Technically speaking, now that you’ve been injected with the serum, it is possible for you to bond with another mate. So far, you and Subject 4 are the only humans who have been injected with the full version. We’re hoping to see more promising results with the both of you before we dole out the serum to the rest of the population. But having you here gives us the ideal chance to study human and Sankado mating rituals more closely.”

“No, no, no,” I said, wagging my finger. “I didn’t sign up for an alien dating show with a side of Stockholm syndrome. You want me to breed with one of these guys, right? That’s the whole point of this situation?”

The good doctor nodded enthusiastically. I already knew this, of course, but it was good to confirm. As much as I’d love to pretend this whole thing was just a bad dream I couldn’t wake up from, at some point you had to wake up and smell the cotton candy aliens, which meant I was royally screwed on a foreign planet in a galaxy far, far away. Great.

The best thing I could do for myself now was to take a cue from Dory and put myself in the best position possible to have that good, cushy life. If I couldn’t become a rich and famous rock star, with the mansions and swimming pools and endless sexy pool boys, then the least these aliens could do was pamper me. Back when I was trapped in Osid’s prison, the Biwbanian intern who followed Dory around said that just one human female cost more than a continent on this planet. They couldn’t afford to lose me. If I played my cards right, this could be a very comfortable stay.

After all, I was saving a species, goddamn it.

Besides, I always wanted kids. Well, I wanted human kids, but we had to play the cards we were dealt. Preferably as a rich single mother like my Aunt Odette. Where my siblings and I would be playing tennis with two pans and a rubber ball while listening to the latest episode of the trash fire that was my parents’ marriage, my cousin Dominique would be off to Fiji to skip rocks and play badminton. Or whatever it was rich people did on vacation.

Now that I thought about it, why didn’t we just ask Aunt Odette for tennis rackets? It wasn’t like she skimped on the Christmas presents.