Page 10
Story: Grumpy Alien Boss
"Fine. Combat assessment it is." I push away from Pyke's desk, my frill bristling with annoyance. "But I maintain my edge. Daily."
"Then you should pass with flying colors."
The training chamber hums to life as I enter. Blue light ripples across the walls, forming into combat drones. Their solid-light bodies flicker into existence - perfect replicas of various enemy combatants.
"Begin sequence," the computer announces.
The first drone charges. I sidestep, catching its arm and using its momentum to slam it into the floor. The satisfying crunch as it dissolves almost makes this worthwhile.
Two more attack from opposite sides. I drop and sweep, taking their legs out. A quick strike to each throat destroys them.
But even as I flow through the forms, muscle memory taking over, my mind drifts. To red hair and green eyes. To the way Olivia's face lights up when she masters a new skill. To her fierce determination when facing down corporate rivals.
My fist passes through another drone's chest. "Assessment complete. Score: 98.7%"
I barely notice. The attraction I felt at first was simple enough to handle. Aesthetic appreciation, nothing more. But now...
Now I catch myself watching the clock, counting minutes until our next meeting. Planning projects that require her input. Finding excuses to work late, just to spend more time in her presence.
My life before her feels distant, incomplete. Like black and white footage compared to vivid color.
"Assessment recorded," the computer says. "Would you like to run another sequence?"
I shake my head, trying to clear these dangerous thoughts.
"No. End program."
The chronometer flashes red. Dawn approaches - time to return to my human masquerade.
Back in the disguised shuttle, I engage the rotor simulation and lift off. The dome of Base Alpha vanishes beneath the waves as I ascend through layers of dark water into pre-dawn skies.
Manhattan's skyline pierces through morning mist. I land atop Rook Tower just as the sun crests the horizon. Perfect timing.
The elevator deposits me on the executive floor. Through the glass wall of my office, I spot Olivia at her desk. She's already deep in work mode, fingers flying across her keyboard while she juggles three different calls.
"No, that won't work for Mr. Rook's schedule... Yes, I understand it's urgent... How about next Tuesday?"
Her efficiency sends a surge of pride through my chest. In just months, she's mastered the art of corporate warfare. The way she wields that phone like a weapon, decimating would-be schedule-wreckers...
A paper slips from the fax machine, floating to the floor. Olivia bends to retrieve it, her skirt pulling tight across her...
By the seven moons of Vakuta. My body responds instantly, primitive urges surging through my carefully maintained human form. The transformation matrix wavers, threatening to reveal my true nature. I force my scales to stay beneath the surface, but certain... anatomical changes refuse to be denied.
"Mr. Rook!"
Olivia straightens, document in hand, and spots me lurking in the doorway. Her face lights up as she strides toward me, hips swaying with each step.
I grip my briefcase strategically in front of my waist, praying my suit jacket conceals the evidence of my inappropriate thoughts.
"Good morning! How was your trip to the Jersey Office?"
"It went fine," I say, trying to sidle around Olivia and get to my desk before she notices the effect she's having on me. My briefcase strategically placed, I attempt a casual stride, but my body is anything but casual right now.
Olivia, oblivious to my struggle, squints at me, her gaze zeroing in on my collar.
"Hold still, you've got something..." She gets on her tiptoes, reaching up to brush off whatever offending speck has caught her attention.
I freeze as she leans into me, her body pressing against mine in a way that would normally be welcome. But right now, it's a torture of the sweetest kind. She leans right against my erection, her softness meeting my hardness, and I have to muster every ounce of self-control not to react.
"Then you should pass with flying colors."
The training chamber hums to life as I enter. Blue light ripples across the walls, forming into combat drones. Their solid-light bodies flicker into existence - perfect replicas of various enemy combatants.
"Begin sequence," the computer announces.
The first drone charges. I sidestep, catching its arm and using its momentum to slam it into the floor. The satisfying crunch as it dissolves almost makes this worthwhile.
Two more attack from opposite sides. I drop and sweep, taking their legs out. A quick strike to each throat destroys them.
But even as I flow through the forms, muscle memory taking over, my mind drifts. To red hair and green eyes. To the way Olivia's face lights up when she masters a new skill. To her fierce determination when facing down corporate rivals.
My fist passes through another drone's chest. "Assessment complete. Score: 98.7%"
I barely notice. The attraction I felt at first was simple enough to handle. Aesthetic appreciation, nothing more. But now...
Now I catch myself watching the clock, counting minutes until our next meeting. Planning projects that require her input. Finding excuses to work late, just to spend more time in her presence.
My life before her feels distant, incomplete. Like black and white footage compared to vivid color.
"Assessment recorded," the computer says. "Would you like to run another sequence?"
I shake my head, trying to clear these dangerous thoughts.
"No. End program."
The chronometer flashes red. Dawn approaches - time to return to my human masquerade.
Back in the disguised shuttle, I engage the rotor simulation and lift off. The dome of Base Alpha vanishes beneath the waves as I ascend through layers of dark water into pre-dawn skies.
Manhattan's skyline pierces through morning mist. I land atop Rook Tower just as the sun crests the horizon. Perfect timing.
The elevator deposits me on the executive floor. Through the glass wall of my office, I spot Olivia at her desk. She's already deep in work mode, fingers flying across her keyboard while she juggles three different calls.
"No, that won't work for Mr. Rook's schedule... Yes, I understand it's urgent... How about next Tuesday?"
Her efficiency sends a surge of pride through my chest. In just months, she's mastered the art of corporate warfare. The way she wields that phone like a weapon, decimating would-be schedule-wreckers...
A paper slips from the fax machine, floating to the floor. Olivia bends to retrieve it, her skirt pulling tight across her...
By the seven moons of Vakuta. My body responds instantly, primitive urges surging through my carefully maintained human form. The transformation matrix wavers, threatening to reveal my true nature. I force my scales to stay beneath the surface, but certain... anatomical changes refuse to be denied.
"Mr. Rook!"
Olivia straightens, document in hand, and spots me lurking in the doorway. Her face lights up as she strides toward me, hips swaying with each step.
I grip my briefcase strategically in front of my waist, praying my suit jacket conceals the evidence of my inappropriate thoughts.
"Good morning! How was your trip to the Jersey Office?"
"It went fine," I say, trying to sidle around Olivia and get to my desk before she notices the effect she's having on me. My briefcase strategically placed, I attempt a casual stride, but my body is anything but casual right now.
Olivia, oblivious to my struggle, squints at me, her gaze zeroing in on my collar.
"Hold still, you've got something..." She gets on her tiptoes, reaching up to brush off whatever offending speck has caught her attention.
I freeze as she leans into me, her body pressing against mine in a way that would normally be welcome. But right now, it's a torture of the sweetest kind. She leans right against my erection, her softness meeting my hardness, and I have to muster every ounce of self-control not to react.
Table of Contents
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