My Alien Prince: Claimed by the Atrexu (SciFi BBW Alien Romance) (2 page)

All his fellow officers wanted that after weeks and months of conquest, surrounded by young, athletic male soldiers. After that, they all wanted a
female
, a true woman with a shape to match. But there was little chance of landing a wife like that. The current fashion, which had been current for as long as the prince could remember, dictated thinness in a woman. As thin as possible, was the ideal. No large behind to knead and weigh in his hands, no breasts to caress in wonder at the feminine essence, no soft waist to put one's arms around, no tender cheeks to kiss. Just bone and skin and muscle.

And of course, because he was the Crown Prince, they all thought that he was attracted to that fashionable shape, and so every girl who was to be paraded to him in presentation to the Imperial court had been dieting hard for months to achieve that skeletal look.

“Miss Moss Mazz,” the chamberlain read. “Daughter of the famous actor, Mess Mazz. No interests noted. Commonly known to have unusually protruding ribs, Your Highness. Very attractive.”

The prince sighed again and nodded regally at another hopeful, who immediately went red in excitement and sent him a series of shamefully flirtatious looks, thinking he was truly interested. But he was not. In order to not succumb to the boredom, he had to favor an occasional girl with a special look or smile or gesture, giving her high hopes and a great story to tell her grandkids – grandkids who would not be royals. Not if he had any say in it.

The chamberlain kept on introducing eligible women. “Lady Whic Cheep. Daughter of the Count of Monztr. Interests: Mourning the dead, embroidery and childbirth. Um, I imagine that last one is a
theoretical
pursuit, as yet, your Highness.”

“Birth and death in one person,” Ev'ax said in his driest voice. “Encompasses life wonderfully. And in between, embroidery. Well, I suppose it makes life seem to drag on forever.”

Once in a while the prince spotted in the crowd of young women a girl who gave him a brief hope, one who had a more feminine, attractive shape. But she always turned out to be married already or to have bad teeth or a terrible mental defect, so that she was ineligible. The prince wouldn't have minded marrying a servant or another lowborn woman, as long as she had the round, fluffy shape he preferred and loved him for himself, not for his future empire. But the chances were slim.

He groaned at the terrible pun he had inadvertently made in his mind, and another girl turned around in delight, thinking he had expressed his lust for her. He quickly looked away to avoid giving her any ideas.

As he did so, his gaze happened to stop at the Duke of Hyp, his older cousin. The Duke was standing a little to the side, away from the usual huddle of noblemen. He made sure never to miss any event at the Imperial court, even if he was usually not invited. But he was the Emperor's nephew, and no one ever tried to stop him entering the palace. The duke was a pale and thin figure, except for his enormous gut, which spilled heavily over his ceremonial uniform pants and strained the fabric of his pink shirt to the breaking point. No one knew why he kept wearing that uniform, because as far as anyone knew, he had never been involved with the military.

It was rumored that the duke was constantly conspiring to get closer to the Imperial throne, even if he was currently second in line. Only Ar'Ric stood between the duke and the Emperor. Ar'Ric was not concerned, because the duke was twenty years older than he was and had never married.

The duke stared straight back at Ar'Ric, not blinking and not inclining his head in a courteous greeting like every other noble would. His eyes were pale and bulging as he stared, reminding the prince of a reptile. There was an unhealthy sheen in his eyes, as if barely able to hide an ambition that bordered on the insane.

“If I didn't know better,” the prince said softly to Ev'Ax while nodding at another young woman, “I'd suspect that Duke Hyp was responsible for picking out these hopeless women. He would like nothing better than for me not to marry and produce an heir.”

“That may not be as absurd as you think,” Ev'Ax said thoughtfully. “He has been seen a lot around the palace lately. And because of his title and relations to His Imperial Majesty, your father, he's rarely denied what he demands.”

The prince nodded. “I always try to stay as far away from him as possible, of course. He seems to radiate... decay. We must make sure none of his agents are around me. I feel that he just might murder me if he could.”

“I have the same feeling, Yr'ighness.” By all means, we must keep him at arm's length.”

The prince again surveyed the long line of young women waiting to be introduced to him.

“Straighten up, Yr'ighness,” Ev'ax growled beside him. “They're a hopeless bunch, but that's still the uniform of an Imperial officer you're wearing.”

The prince sighed for the hundredth time that evening and straightened his back again. He never slouched in any other situation, only during these endless and badly disguised bride-finding functions. He could not be allowed to let this whole silliness get to him. Soon it would be over, and he could retreat to his chambers to have a drink and read more about the tactics of the legendary Admiral Gu'b.

The chamberlain kept introducing more young women. “Lady Dereq P'il. Sixth daughter of the Count of Aramt. The name is apparently an unfortunate mistake, Your Highness. The family thought she was a boy until she was nine.”

The prince glanced over at Ev'ax. Of all the silliness... But his friend, always very conscious of duty, demonstratively refused to return his gaze. Ar'Ric sighed once more and steeled himself. Deadly peril in fierce space battles he could handle. But this...

“Miss Bul Y'mt. Only daughter of Baroness Gro'nn, the well-known sewage diver...”

T
here was just time for one little drink before their curfew would begin, so Emily and Tonya had gone to the one little bar where they as civilian maintenance workers were allowed to hang out after work. It was not very bar-like because, like every other part of the high-tech space station, it was brightly lit. It also managed to look run-down after only a few years in service. The facilities for the civilian employees of the station were not any kind of priority for the maintenance budget.

But it was okay, Emily thought. They served beer and wine in moderation. Two units of alcohol per person per five days was the allowance. Not enough to get you drunk at all, but if you had both units within an hour or so, you could get a nice buzz going.

The bar was milling with other people from the lowest ranks, and the noise level was pretty high.

“So,” Tonya said, bringing two glasses of beer back to their table and sitting down. “Two days to your meeting with the station commander. Try to remember me when you're promoted way over my head, okay? Cheers!”

They clinked their glasses together, and Emily enjoyed the coolness of the brew after fourteen hours of cleaning corridors and toilets.

“You know, I'll just be happy if it gets me out of Meller's vicinity,” she said as she put the glass down. “Anything is better than that.”

Tonya wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “Yeah? I don't believe for a damn moment that you'd be happy with just that. I sure as hell wouldn't be if I'd worked as hard as you have, and then I only got a promotion one step up. This level we're on now is like kindergarten, just two years of space duty to check if we can handle it. And you handle it better than most, Emily. Sure, everyone gets a promotion after their first two years, but
you'll
get on a rocket to supervisory staff. Mark my words. You got 'management' written all over you. Wouldn't surprise me if they ask you take the officer's course. Cadet Emily Fallon, huh? Sounds okay to me. I'd serve under you any day. You're my kind of lady.”

Tonya took another swig of her beer, and Emily started feeling better. It was true, everyone got promoted if they could stick it out for the first two years. And some got promoted many steps in one go.

“Thanks. Yeah, well. We'll see. We've both worked hard. Only fair that we get some compensation.” They clinked their glasses together again.

“Sure is. And when you get there, I'm thinking you can smuggle little old me into the officer's mess,” Tonya said with a sweet smile on her lips. “Some of those guys are non-jerks and pretty hot. Or maybe it's just that I've been in space so long that every damn male looks acceptable.”

“Tell me about it,” Emily said. “It's been so long since I got any action that even the aliens are starting to look good to me. Like, the weird orange ones or that one with the three legs that end in claws.”

Tonya giggled happily. “Yeah! I know! I mean, what would it feel like with that claw guy? Just once? Or would you be in danger of being cut in half?”

“Hey, don't laugh. Maybe he's a sex god. Maybe he could bring you to, like, a peak of bliss that's out of this world?” Emily giggled, too, as she could feel the alcohol loosening her up a little.

“Or he'd fill you with some of his alien seed, and you'd be spraying tadpoles out of your nose two weeks later!”

They finished their beers, and Emily got them two more while the bartender carefully noted that she and Tonya had now maxed out their five-day allowance.

“But seriously, that's one of the things I don't like that much up here,” Emily said. “The lack of a love life. It's like a walk in the desert. Just work and safety drills and no real chance for some actual romance.”

“Damn right. I never thought I'd say this, but I miss Earth a little. At least there, I had a boyfriend sometimes.”

“Yeah. Pretty much all of mine turned out to be losers one way or the other. But I miss it. You know, like the intimacy. The little things, like watching a movie together and making pizza and going to the beach.”

“Mhm. Not much chance of that up here, until you get to the management level and are allowed to socialize with the visitors and the higher-ups. But I hear
that's
happening very soon for a certain friend of mine.”

They clinked their glasses one last time.

“Thanks, Tonya. You only got six more months yourself. We'll have a party when we're both out of this bottom level cleaning stuff. Unlimited beer allowance for us then.”

“Damn right. When that day comes, we'll be the drunkest chicks in space.”

“H
ow many more days of this?” Prince Ar'Ric demanded. “I've just about had my fill of skin and bones and embroidery.”

He was in his suite in the Imperial Palace, pacing back and forth in frustration.

Ev'ax, lounging comfortably on a couch, consulted his pad. “Well, this was the first day of royal presentations. Because you have evaded all these functions for seventeen months before now, the Imperial court has decided that there will be five more days of introductions and banquets.”

“Five
days?
Of this gyrshit nonsense? Do they think I have nothing better to do than hear about the ribs and dexriding of these damn nitwit
twigs?
I sure hope the next batch will hold a better standard than today's bunch.”

“Hmm, yes... I fear that the quality of the prospects may prove to decline somewhat after today. The court was hoping that you might find a possible wife today because they made sure that all the most promising ladies were presented on the first day. From now on, only the less promising ladies will be introduced.”

The prince grasped his forehead in disbelief. “They'll... they'll get
worse?!
”

“I'm afraid so. These six hundred you met today were the most promising ones from the point of view of mental sanity, decent behavior, beauty of face, intelligence and so on.”

“Beauty?” said the Prince hopefully. “But that's based on the common concepts of beauty, isn't it? The ones that dictate thinness at any cost? Perhaps the larger and more womanly attractive ones come later?”

“Ar'Ric,” said Colonel Ev'ax, who only addressed the prince as 'Your Highness' in public, “I said 'beauty of
face.'
From what I can tell, your ideas of what constitutes a beautiful face are pretty much in line with most people's, although you prefer more roundness in the cheeks than some other men. I have made sure that the court knows that you prefer a body type with softer features, so these you saw today are among the roundest young women in the empire. From now on, the women who will be introduced to you are those that know they have little chance in the first place, so they must look their best. That means that they will do their utmost to conform to the common concepts of bodily beauty.”

The prince sat down heavily. “In other words, they will be even thinner.”

“Yes. Because they think they can improve their chances with you by slimming down brutally for many months before this. Your taste in women, which is indeed the tastes of most warriors, is not well known in the Empire. If it were, the fashion might change.”

The prince got his feet again and walked up and down the floor in frustration. “This is intolerable. Ev'ax, I can handle infiltrating the Swarm of Tri for months at a time before finding their brood mother. I can deal with the brutal assaults of the tiny Sssu, decimating my fleet. I can stand picking off one by one of the Durkuzz parasites when they attach themselves to my flagship and try to bore through the hull. I can live with being so far away from the civilized galaxy that we have to live on insect stew for months at a time. I have withstood seeing my men brought to insanity and beyond by the Witches of Van Ma'anen. But this? This is... nightmarish!”

Ev'ax looked at his friend with amused puzzlement. It was true, the prince was unusually brave and tireless in combat and huge naval battles with fierce and strange aliens. That he should be brought to this desperate state by a few hundred women seemed extraordinary. The prince was a magnificent leader of men and could take immense hardships, so this was an unexpected weakness in him. It almost made the colonel glad that Ar'Ric had at least one weakness. He was so formidable and gifted in every field that it was sometimes easy to forget that he was only human.