Entered in the Alien Bride Lottery by Margo Collins (easy readers txt) 📕

the Khanavai race alive. To make sure we had warriors for the next generation.

That thought led me to switch over to cursing the Alveron Horde in general. It was their fault the Khanavai only produced males. The vile monsters used chemical warfare. Even the Earthers knew that poisoning one’s enemies was a horrific move. And they’d been well on their way to destroying their planet when we’d intervened to save them.

Lucky for them, their women were compatible with our men. Otherwise, we might have let the otherwise insignificant planet go.

I sighed as I slung my single bag over my shoulder.

I would do my duty. But I didn’t have to be cheerful about it.

The shuttle ride was short and uneventful. Luckily, I hadn’t been far from the station where the Bride Games were held. Flying with other pilots always made me want to chew off my fingernails. Not out of fear—no, our pilots were the best trained in the universe. But out of sheer boredom. I’d much rather be piloting the ship myself, even if it was only a shuttle.

As I stepped out into Station 21’s main thoroughfare from the station’s docking area, I took a deep breath.

Time to act like a civilized Khanavai.

I grinned at the thought. There were races out in the galaxy who might argue that the phrase “civilized Khanavai” was a contradiction in terms. They were wrong, of course. We could be as civilized as anyone—as long as we weren’t provoked.

A slight buzzing alerted me to a message, and I glanced down at the communication device I wore strapped to my wrist. The disembarkation specialist, a tiny nonbinary Poltien with a shock of blue hair from its left nostril, had promised they would have my quarters ready before I hit the Promenade.

Not quite—but close. It would have taken the Poltien longer to reach the main recreational area of the station, and I’d learned to make allowances for lesser creatures.

Like, I assumed, I would have to make allowances for my new Earther bride.

I shook off the irritation that came with the thought and followed the com’s directions to my quarters.

As I passed by the various shopfronts, I found myself noticing the few humans who moved among the crowds. Particularly the females.

With the exception of their generally bland coloring—most of them fell into some shade from pale pink to dark brown—they were attractive enough, with soft, yielding bodies. As a young soldier, I’d even tried a few at the holo-pleasure suites. If the holo designers were to be trusted, human women were also warm in all the right ways.

At the thought, my cock hardened.

Perhaps not all the duties associated with taking a mate would be irritants.

Once in my quarters, I activated the viewscreen to show the latest Lottery Drawing. It had been years since I’d watched the Bride Games, certain that I was a long time away from ever having to participate in them.

Perhaps it was time to begin paying more attention to what might be expected of me.

With nothing to do until I reported to the Games Director, I stretched out on the double-sized bed, a perk of being a groom—the ridiculous human word for a male about to be mated.

As Vos Klavoii drew name after name and images of the women flashed up on the screen, I reached down to touch myself, wondering what it would be like to bury myself in that one with the bright blue eyes. Or the one with the puffy lips. How might it feel to have those lips wrapped around my cock?

I stroked myself, imagining the feel of a human woman surrounding me. Perhaps this would be the last time I would have to take matters into my own hands.  The thought of an Earther girl’s mouth sliding down over me made me throb. I closed my eyes, swallowing a moan as I climaxed.

I opened my eyes, concentrating again on the images of the human women on the screen.

They were all equally lovely, I decided. Any of them would do. I would accept whichever bride was matched to me, fuck her, impregnate her, and report back for ship duty.

And perhaps Commander Dren was right. Command Central would promote me into the Special Ops program once I had fulfilled my genetic duty as a warrior of the Khanavai.

Satisfied with my decision, I rolled out of the enormous bed and moved to the sanicleanse unit to wash.

After all, I would soon be meeting my new mate.

I dressed in my formal uniform to report to the Bride Games area of the station. The closer I got to it, the stranger everything around me looked.

I had expected many of the Khanavai to be overdressed—after all, Earthers were reportedly much more susceptible to fluctuations in temperature than we were, and they had spent millennia protecting their bodies from the unpredictable weather of their planet.  Rumor had it many of them were uncomfortable with nudity.

So of course most of the Khanavai wore excessive amounts of clothing. Even my tribal chavan, wrapped around my waist and falling almost to my knees, and my traditional vandenoi leather strap, worn across one shoulder, meant that I wore less than most of the other warriors headed toward the Bride Games in a steady stream.

Some of them even wore human-style suits. I shuddered at the thought of so much fabric scratching against my skin. How did the men of Earth fight in such restrictive outfits?

Moreover, the closer I got to the games suites, the more muted the colors became, almost as if they were behind some kind of shadow. Signs for the Bride Lottery—advertisements, the Earthers called them—adorned the corridor walls, purporting to show Khanavai warriors. But these, too, were in muted colors, failing to show the full glory of our males.

And their genitals were covered by the Bride Lottery logo, as if we were ashamed to show ourselves to our potential mates.

Their nudity taboo at play, I suspected.

I rolled my eyes. I would have much to teach my mate.

And any