Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Noelle sighed.
“Okay. You can do this. Might as well get started.”
She climbed up on one side, grabbing the edge of a filthy, dark green sheet that smelled faintly of old cheese, and began dragging it up the mattress. It took both hands and most of her body weight. Once she got it to the top, she smoothed it out with quick swipes and did the same for the other side. The comforter was even worse—it was twice as thick as a regular duvet and heavy as lead. She had to lift and flip it like she was folding a tarp over a small car.
Then came the pillows.
She jumped, bounced, and elbowed them into fluffiness, one by one. Her hair stuck to her forehead with sweat, and her arms ached from hauling and smoothing, but she refused to stop until the bed looked at least somewhat habitable.
When it was finally done, she wiped her brow and looked around.
“Not bad for one little Earth girl versus the Trollox pit from hell,” she muttered.
Bur now it was time to tackle the bathroom.
The ensuite was just as oversized as the bedroom. The sink was a broad, shallow basin that resembled a stone trough, with two spigots on either side—one that oozed pink slime and another that gurgled out dirty brown water. The mirror above it was cracked and foggy, and the floor was covered in black tiles that stuck to the soles of her feet.
But it was the bathtub that made her gag.
A dark ring of grime lined the inside, thick and crusty, like it had been building up for years. It smelled faintly of swamp and decay, and she had to cover her mouth with the top of her dress to keep from retching.
“Nope,” she said aloud. “I am not scrubbing that without some kind of help.”
She spotted a stepstool leaning against the wall—apparently even the Trollox had to reach the higher shelves sometimes. Dragging it to the cabinet above the sink, she climbed up and opened the wide, clunky drawer.
Inside was a large bottle of cleaner, shaped like a teardrop with alien glyphs printed down the side. Thanks to the translation bacteria she’d taken on the Mother Ship, the label resolved in her mind.
Spray foam onto stain. Wait until foam dissolves. Rinse.
“Sounds simple enough,” she muttered, grabbing the heavy can. It was almost too large for her to hold one-handed. She popped the cap and aimed it at the ring in the tub.
The foam hissed out in a dense cobalt blue, expanding as it hit the grime and clinging like glue. Noelle waited, nose wrinkled, as it began to bubble and hiss, slowly eating through the filth. After a minute, the ring started to melt down the drain in rivulets of dark brown sludge.
She turned on the shower to rinse the rest away and was about to declare victory when her foot bumped something solid.
Noelle looked down.
There, beside the tub, was a bone.
It was long and pale and had a few strands of reddish meat still clinging to it. It was also nearly as long as her forearm.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, gingerly picking it up between two fingers. It was slick and cold, and she fought the urge to drop it immediately.
What kind of animal did this come from? she wondered, fighting the rising bile in her throat. And why is it in the bathroom?
She carried it back into the bedroom. Now that her “chores” were done, she had time to look for the key to the shuttle. She went to the massive closet and started looking through the Trollox’s clothes, hoping against hope that she might find the shuttle key somewhere in his pockets.
His pants were massive—big enough to fit three of her inside, and the pockets were like tote bags. But they held nothing of use—just more wrappers, a broken comb with greasy black hair stuck in it, and a few unidentifiable objects that squished when she touched them.
His dresser drawers were worse.
One was filled with dirty socks the size of pillowcases. Another contained folded images of various alien women in bizarre sexual poses. One had three breasts and spiral tentacles for legs. Another had glowing nipples and teeth in strange places.
“Ugh,” Noelle muttered. “So that’s what gets you off? Gross.”
She slammed the drawer shut, her stomach turning. But it wasn’t just disgust that made her dizzy.
Her body was acting up again.
Her breasts felt swollen and sensitive, her nipples brushing uncomfortably against the fabric of her dress. Between her thighs was a persistent ache—a slick pulse of need that she couldn’t ignore.
Dios, not again, she thought, clenching her jaw. When is this going to stop?
The fertility treatment Lupin had forced on her must still be affecting her system. Her hormones were going wild.
Will I need help again? she wondered. Will Burn and Bright even want to help me like that a second time? Dios, I hope so.