Hi! You're My Assigned Wife?
by Megumi Kashuahara
Copyright© 2026 by Megumi Kashuahara
Science Fiction Story: Earth Captain Simon Coulter was assigned to o to Cyril Prime to negotiate a treaty with the Cyrilians for aether crystal mining rights. He never thought he would need to marry an assigned wife to do it
Caution: This Science Fiction Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Science Fiction Space AI Generated .
The amber skies of Simon Coulter Prime swirled outside the viewport as the Earth flagship Astrea glided into orbit. Captain Simon Coulter stood with his hands clasped behind his back, watching the bioluminescent jungles below pulse with indigo and emerald light. Even from this distance, he could make out the glittering spires of the capital—living crystal structures that caught the twin suns’ light and refracted it in patterns no human architect could achieve.
“Atmospheric stabilization complete, Captain,” his first officer announced. “Alphius docking authority has granted permission to descend.”
Simon nodded, his expression remaining impassive despite the significance of the moment. At 32, he was Earth’s youngest ambassador, chosen specifically for this mission due to his unflappable demeanor and analytical mind. The fate of Earth’s energy crisis might well rest on his shoulders. Simon Prime was the only known source of aether crystals, a revolutionary power source that could end humanity’s dependence on depleted fusion cells.
“Prepare the diplomatic shuttle,” he ordered. “Inform the crew that I’ll be making initial contact alone. Standard protocols apply. No unauthorized communications with the Alphius.”
As he strode toward the shuttle bay, Simon mentally reviewed the mission parameters: Secure a trade agreement for aether crystal mining rights; establish Earth as a trustworthy interstellar partner; maintain professional distance at all times. That last directive had never been difficult for him. Emotional detachment came naturally to Simon Coulter, a trait that had accelerated his rise through the diplomatic corps but left his personal life a barren landscape. No lasting relationships. No close friends. Just a string of commendations and promotions—the perfect ambassador for humanity’s most crucial first contact mission.
The shuttle descended through layers of amber clouds, breaking through to reveal the sprawling crystalline city below. Unlike the stark, geometrical precision of Earth’s megacities, Simon’s capital flowed like water, frozen in mid-motion. Organic curves and spirals seemed to defy physics. Bioluminescent vines wrapped around and through the structures, pulsing gently in rhythm with some unseen force.
As the shuttle touched down on a transparent landing platform, Simon straightened his midnight blue diplomatic uniform and checked his translator implant. First impressions were everything in interstellar diplomacy. A small delegation awaited him at the edge of the platform. Most were tall, willowy figures draped in shimmering fabrics that changed color with their movements. But it was the shortest among them who stepped forward—a petite Alphius with skin that seemed to contain tiny crystals beneath its surface, catching light and refracting it in gentle prisms.
She moved with calm confidence, her expression composed in a way that suggested she had prepared carefully for this moment. Simon was still processing his first impressions when she tilted her head slightly and spoke.
“Hi.” Her voice was melodic despite the translator’s digital edge, and there was the faintest trace of amusement in it. “You’re my assigned wife?”
Simon blinked. The translator had surely malfunctioned. “I beg your pardon?”
“I apologize—the phrasing is awkward in translation.” She clasped her hands in front of her, unruffled by his expression of complete bewilderment. “Allow me to begin again. I am Lun’ Vessa, assigned as your bondmate for the duration of your stay on Simon Prime. In your terms, I am to be your wife, and you my husband. I understand this is unexpected.”
The silence that followed seemed to stretch into infinity. Behind her, the taller members of the Alphius delegation watched with expressions that suggested they found his reaction entirely predictable.
“That is—” Simon stopped. Started again. “There must be a translation error.”
“No error, Captain Coulter.” The crystals beneath her skin pulsed slightly faster. “On behalf of the High Council, I welcome you to our world. And I assure you, we have a great deal to discuss.”
One of the taller Alphius stepped forward—his crystalline features set in grave lines. “Captain Coulter, I am High Elder Mirka. I understand your confusion, but this is non-negotiable. For thousands of years, all who seek to trade with Simon have honored our bonding laws. Without a proper bondmate, no off-worlder has ever successfully conducted business here.”
“But surely there are alternatives,” Simon pressed, diplomatic training keeping his rising panic from showing. “A cultural liaison role, perhaps, or—”
“There are no alternatives,” Elder Mirka interrupted, his tone final. “The bond is essential for your own well-being as much as for our customs. Off-worlders who remain unbonded on Simon begin to experience psychological distress within days. It is a biological reaction to our world’s unique resonance field.”
Simon looked from the Elder to Lun’ Vessa, searching for some sign that this was an elaborate diplomatic test. Finding none, he tried a different approach. “May I have time to consult with my superiors about this requirement? It represents a significant deviation from my mission parameters.”
Lun’ Vessa shook her head gently. “I am afraid the bond must be established within your first day on Simon. The resonance field is already beginning to affect you, though you cannot yet perceive it.” She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Captain Coulter, I was chosen specifically for this assignment based on my expertise in xenopsychology and my studies of human culture. I will make this transition as comfortable as possible for you.”
Simon felt trapped. He had spent years mastering the art of diplomatic negotiation, but nothing in his training had prepared him for this. Refusing outright would doom the mission before it began; agreeing violated every protocol he’d sworn to uphold.
“The ceremony will be conducted at sunset,” Elder Mirka announced, clearly considering the matter settled. “Liaison Alphius will explain the requirements and help you prepare.”
As the Elder and his entourage departed, Simon was left standing alone with Lun’ Vessa on the crystal platform. The bioluminescent jungle beyond the city’s edge pulsed as if laughing at his predicament.
“I understand this is unexpected,” Lun’ Vessa said, her voice gentler now that they were alone. “But I assure you, the bond is primarily ceremonial for diplomatic visitors. Your Earth customs and personal boundaries will be respected.”
Simon struggled to regain his composure. “In human terms, marriage is a significant personal commitment, not a diplomatic formality.”
“And for us, it is both,” Lun’ Vessa replied, the crystals beneath her skin catching the light as she tilted her head. “The bond is real, Captain Coulter, but its expression is defined by those within it. If it helps, consider me your cultural interpreter and psychological buffer against Simon’s resonance field.” She gestured toward a hovering transport platform at the edge of the landing area. “Come, I’ll show you to our quarters, and we can discuss this further in private.”
“Our quarters.” The phrase echoed in Simon’s mind as he reluctantly followed her. As they glided over the crystalline city, he activated his neural implant to compose an urgent message to Earth Command. How exactly did one explain to one’s superiors that the mission to save Earth’s energy future now included an alien wedding?
The living quarters assigned to them were located in a spiraling crystal tower near the city’s center. Unlike the austere efficiency of Earth’s diplomatic housing, the Alphius apartment was organic and flowing. Transparent walls looked out over the city and jungle beyond, while bioluminescent vines grew along ceiling contours, providing gentle, shifting light.
“Your personal items have been brought from your shuttle,” Lun’ Vessa explained, gesturing to Simon’s standard-issue diplomatic cases arranged neatly in one corner. “The living space adapts to emotional states. You’ll notice the lighting and temperature will shift to match your comfort needs.”
As if responding to her words, the room’s ambient glow softened to a more Earth-like spectrum. Simon noticed that the furniture, if it could be called that, seemed to be growing directly from the floor, shaped from the same crystal-infused material as the walls.
“There are separate sleeping chambers,” Lun’ Vessa added, correctly interpreting his scanning gaze. “As I said, your boundaries will be respected.”
Simon set his jaw. “This entire situation violates my boundaries. Liaison Lun’ Vessa, I came here to negotiate a trade agreement, not to participate in a marriage ceremony.”
“I understand your frustration.” Lun’ Vessa moved to what appeared to be a food preparation area, where she activated a crystalline dispenser that produced two glasses of clear liquid. “But perhaps it would help to understand why our bonding practice exists.” She offered him one of the glasses, which Simon accepted after a moment’s hesitation. His toxicity scanner implant registered the drink as safe—just water with trace minerals.
“Alphius evolved as a deeply empathic species,” Lun’ Vessa explained, taking a seat on a curved bench that seemed to adjust its shape to accommodate her. “The crystal deposits in our world resonate with emotional energies. Isolation is literally painful for us. And over millennia, we discovered that all sentient species who visit our world eventually experience similar effects.”
“Humans have thrived in isolation for centuries,” Simon countered, remaining standing. “Many of us prefer solitude.”
Lun’ Vessa’s expression turned sad, the crystals beneath her skin dimming slightly. “With respect, Captain, that is a cultural myth your people maintain despite evidence to the contrary. Your own medical records show epidemic levels of loneliness-related illness on Earth.”
Simon stiffened. “You’ve accessed my medical records?”
“Not your personal files,” she clarified quickly. “Earth’s public health data was part of my preparation for this assignment. I am a xenopsychologist by training, specializing in the mental health of off-worlders.”
“So this marriage is a psychological experiment?” The bitterness in his voice surprised even him.
Lun’ Vessa set down her glass, the crystals beneath her skin pulsing with what might have been frustration. “It is a health measure and a cultural requirement, Captain Coulter. Without a proper bond on Simon, visitors begin experiencing disorientation, anxiety, and eventually hallucinations. We’ve documented these effects across seventeen different species.”
Simon paced the room, feeling trapped despite the open design and transparent walls. “And this resonance field is what causes these symptoms?”
“Yes. Simon’s unique electromagnetic properties, combined with the crystalline deposits throughout our world, create what we call the Heart Field. It amplifies emotional energies and creates feedback loops. Those without a proper bond have no way to ground these energies.”
It sounded like pseudoscience to Simon’s ears, but he couldn’t dismiss it entirely. Earth’s briefings had mentioned Alphius empathic abilities but had said nothing about forced marriages or resonance fields.
“What exactly does this bond entail?” he finally asked, practical considerations overriding his instinctive rejection.
Relief flickered across Lun’ Vessa’s features. “The ceremony itself is brief—an exchange of vows and the sharing of resonant frequencies. After that, we would live in these shared quarters, attend diplomatic functions together, and I would help you navigate Alphius customs and the effects of the Heart Field.”
“And ... physical expectations?” Simon forced himself to ask, uncomfortable with the very question.
“None,” Lun’ Vessa answered firmly. “The bond is about emotional and psychological connection, not physical intimacy. That aspect is entirely at the discretion of the bonded pair, guided by mutual consent and cultural norms.”
Simon exhaled slowly. “At least that aspect wouldn’t violate protocols.” But the entire situation still felt like a trap—a way for the Alphius to gain leverage over Earth’s desperate need for aether crystals. “I need to consult with my superiors,” he said, turning away to gaze out at the alien landscape.
The twin suns were beginning their descent, painting the amber sky with streaks of violet and crimson.
“Of course,” Lun’ Vessa replied. “But please understand that Elder Mirka expects the ceremony to proceed at sunset. If you refuse—” She hesitated.
“What happens if I refuse?” Simon turned back to face her.
Lun’ Vessa met his gaze directly, the tiny crystals beneath her skin catching the fading sunlight. “Then all negotiations end before they begin. You would be asked to leave Simon immediately, and no further diplomatic relations would be established with Earth.”
The implications were clear. Earth needed those aether crystals. Millions of lives depended on securing a new energy source before the fusion grid collapsed. His personal discomfort meant nothing compared to that responsibility.
“I’ll attend the ceremony,” he said finally. “But my superiors will need to be informed of this unexpected development.”
“Thank you, Captain Coulter.” The genuine relief in Lun’ Vessa’s voice was unmistakable. “I promise to make this transition as comfortable as possible. The bond can be dissolved when your mission concludes, with no lasting obligations.”
As Lun’ Vessa left him to prepare a formal communication to Earth Command, Simon turned back to the viewport. The alien landscape blurred before his eyes as he contemplated the bizarre turn his mission had taken. Somewhere in the training manuals, there should have been a section on what to do when assigned an alien wife.
The response from Earth Command arrived faster than expected, and its brevity spoke volumes: Comply with local requirements. Secure the trade agreement at all costs. Maintain professional boundaries despite ceremonial obligations. No expression of surprise, no detailed instructions—just an expectation that he would adapt and succeed regardless of circumstances. Typical.
The ceremonial attire provided for him was surprisingly comfortable: a formal robe crafted from a material that felt like silk but shimmered with embedded crystal fragments. It adjusted to his body temperature, cooling as his anxiety raised his body heat. Lun’ Vessa returned wearing similar attire, though hers flowed in patterns that seemed to mirror the bioluminescent rhythms of the jungle visible beyond the city’s edge. The crystals beneath her skin glowed more prominently now, creating patterns that shifted with her movements.
“The Elder Council awaits us in the Resonance Chamber,” she said, studying his appearance with an appraising eye. “You look ... appropriate.”
“High praise indeed,” Simon replied dryly, falling back on sarcasm to mask his discomfort.
A smile flickered across Lun’ Vessa’s face, the first he’d seen from her. “Humor is a positive sign. The resonance field affects everyone differently, but increased emotional expression is common in humans.”
“Is that what this is? I thought it was just diplomatic strain.”
Lun’ Vessa gestured toward the door. “Perhaps both. Shall we proceed?”
The Resonance Chamber was located at the heart of the Crystal City, a vast circular space with walls that curved upward to form a perfect dome. Unlike the transparent structures of the rest of the city, these walls were composed of a milky, opalescent crystal that seemed to pulse with its own inner light. The floor beneath their feet thrummed with subtle vibrations that Simon could feel through the soles of his ceremonial sandals.
High Elder Mirka awaited them at the center of the chamber, surrounded by a semicircle of Council members. Their crystalline features caught and refracted the ambient light, creating an almost hypnotic effect. Behind them, a small group of Alphius musicians played instruments that appeared to be grown rather than crafted, producing harmonics that seemed to resonate directly with Simon’s nervous system.
“Captain Coulter,” Elder Mirka intoned, his voice amplified by the chamber’s unique acoustics. “You have chosen to honor our ways and accept the bond. Approach with your assigned mate.”
Simon stepped forward beside Lun’ Vessa, fighting the urge to loosen the suddenly tight collar of his ceremonial robe. This was just another diplomatic formality, he told himself—no different from the countless rituals he’d participated in across Earth’s divided nations. Except it was entirely different. Marriage, even a temporary alien version, had never been part of his life plan.
“The bond ceremony requires that both participants speak truth,” Elder Mirka continued. “The resonance field will amplify and harmonize your essential frequencies, creating a connection that will sustain you during your stay on Simon.”
Lun’ Vessa turned to face Simon, taking his hands in hers. Her touch was warm, the crystal elements beneath her skin creating a subtle tingling sensation where their palms met. “Repeat the words I speak,” she instructed quietly.
What followed was unlike any wedding ceremony Simon had witnessed on Earth. The vows were not promises of fidelity or devotion, but rather acknowledgments of mutual support and resonance. As Simon repeated the alien phrases his translator provided, he felt a strange sensation building in the chamber—a pressure in the air, as if the very atmosphere was being compressed around them.
“I acknowledge your unique frequency,” he recited, the words feeling foreign on his tongue. “I offer resonance to your dissonance, stability to your fluctuations.”
As the final words were spoken, the milky crystal walls around them suddenly blazed with light. Patterns of energy, not unlike the neural maps Simon had seen in Earth’s medical facilities, spread across the dome above. The vibration beneath his feet intensified, and for a moment, he felt lightheaded.
“The bond is acknowledged,” Elder Mirka declared, satisfaction evident in his tone. “The resonance patterns are stronger than expected for a cross-species pairing. This bodes well for your negotiations.”
The ceremony concluded with a brief sharing of a crystalline chalice containing a clear liquid that tasted faintly of starlight and mountain springs—poetic impressions that Simon immediately recognized as unusual for his typically analytical mind. As they left the Resonance Chamber, Simon was acutely aware of a subtle change. The air seemed clearer somehow, colors more vivid. He attributed it to the strange liquid from the ceremonial chalice, though Lun’ Vessa had assured him it contained no intoxicants.
“How do you feel?” Lun’ Vessa asked as they boarded the hovering transport that would return them to their quarters.
“Different,” Simon admitted after a moment’s consideration. “But ... I couldn’t precisely articulate how.”
“The initial resonance establishment often creates a heightened sensory state,” she explained. “It will stabilize as your system adjusts.”
Back in their shared living space, Simon found himself unable to maintain his earlier resentment of the situation. A strange calm had settled over him, making the bizarre circumstances seem almost reasonable.
“Is this part of it?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at his own head. “This ... acceptance. Have I been drugged or manipulated somehow?”
Lun’ Vessa shook her head, settling onto one of the living furniture formations. “Not in the way you fear. The resonance bond doesn’t change your thoughts or override your will. It simply ... harmonizes discordant energies. Humans might call it reducing stress or anxiety.”
“Convenient,” Simon muttered, though without the edge that would have been present hours earlier.
“Would you prefer to feel angry and trapped?” Lun’ Vessa asked, a hint of challenge in her voice. “Because that can be arranged. The bond can amplify emotions as easily as it can soothe them.”
As if responding to her words, the bioluminescent vines along the ceiling pulsed more rapidly, and Simon felt a surge of his earlier irritation returning.
“Point taken,” he said quickly, and the sensation subsided. “This will take some adjustment.”
“All meaningful things do,” Lun’ Vessa replied. She rose and moved to a control panel near the food preparation area. “You should rest. Tomorrow we begin the preliminary trade discussions with the Resource Council.”
Simon nodded, suddenly aware of a bone-deep fatigue. “Will you be present for those discussions?”
“Of course. As your bondmate, I attend all official functions with you.” She gave him a look that might have been amusement. “Did you think the Alphius would assign you a wife and then separate you immediately?”
“I’m still processing the fact that I have an assigned wife at all,” Simon replied. “The diplomatic briefings were ... incomplete.”
“Perhaps your people thought you would refuse the mission if you knew all it entailed.” Lun’ Vessa gestured toward one of the doorways leading from the main living area. “Your sleeping chamber is prepared. The environmental controls will adapt to your preferences automatically.”
As Simon moved toward the indicated doorway, he paused. “Thank you for your patience with my reaction to all this. I recognize that you’re also fulfilling an assigned duty.”
Something flickered across her features—surprise, perhaps, or recognition. “You’re welcome, Simon. Sleep well.”
It was the first time she had used his given name, he realized as the door sealed behind him. Strangely, it didn’t feel like the violation of protocol it would have yesterday.
The sleeping chamber was simply appointed but comfortable, with a bed that seemed to mold itself to his body as he lay down. The ceiling above was transparent, revealing Simon’s night sky—a tapestry of unfamiliar stars and the swirling amber nebula that gave the planet’s atmosphere its distinctive hue. Despite the day’s extraordinary events, Simon fell into a deeper, more restful sleep than he had experienced in years.
Morning arrived with a gentle increase in the room’s ambient light and the soft chiming of crystal wind catches outside his window. For a disorienting moment, Simon forgot where he was, and more importantly, what had transpired the previous day. Reality crashed back as he entered the main living area to find Lun’ Vessa already awake, conversing with a holographic projection of Elder Mirka. Both turned as he appeared.
“Ah, Captain Coulter,” the elder said, his projected form shimmering with crystalline highlights. “I trust you rested well after the bonding ceremony?”
“Yes, thank you,” Simon replied automatically, diplomatic training taking over despite his disheveled appearance.
“Excellent. The Resource Council has convened early to begin discussions regarding your proposal. They await you in the Communion Spire at your earliest convenience.” The elder’s projection flickered. “Liaison Alphius will guide you through the necessary protocols.”
After the projection disappeared, Lun’ Vessa turned to Simon with an appraising look. “You slept for nearly ten hours. The resonance adjustment often induces deep rest in humans.”
“Ten hours?” Simon couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept more than five. “That’s unusual for me.”
“A positive sign. Your system is adapting well.” She gestured toward a selection of garments laid out on one of the living furniture pieces. “Traditional diplomatic attire for today’s meeting. The Resource Council is more conservative than the bonding authorities.”
As Simon prepared for the day, he found himself studying Lun’ Vessa with new curiosity. In the morning light streaming through the transparent walls, the crystalline elements beneath her skin created complex patterns that seemed to shift with her mood and movements. Her petite stature—she stood barely to his shoulder—belied a composed confidence that he found himself respecting.
“May I ask a personal question?” he ventured as they boarded the transport platform that would take them to the Communion Spire.
Lun’ Vessa’s expression registered surprise before settling into polite interest. “Of course.”
“Were you given a choice in this assignment, or were you ordered to become my ... bondmate?” The question had bothered him through the night. For all his initial resistance, he hadn’t considered that Lun’ Vessa might be an unwilling participant as well.
“I volunteered,” she answered simply. “When Earth’s delegation was announced, several candidates were considered, but my specialization in human psychology made me the logical choice.”
“Logic was the only factor?” Simon pressed, unsure why her answer mattered to him.
Something like amusement flickered across her features. “Is that what you want to hear, Captain? That I was selected solely for practical reasons with no consideration for compatibility?”
“I ... don’t know what I want to hear,” he admitted.
“Then I’ll offer the truth. I was selected because my resonance patterns showed the highest potential compatibility with what we knew of your psychological profile. And yes, I chose to accept the assignment because I find humans—your adaptability, your contradictions—fascinating.”
Before Simon could respond, their transport arrived at the Communion Spire, a towering structure of spiraling crystal that rose above the surrounding buildings like a frozen whirlwind. Unlike the warm amber and indigo tones of their living quarters, this structure gleamed with cool blue and silver hues.
“The Resource Council values precision and clarity,” Lun’ Vessa explained as they disembarked. “Their aesthetics reflect this.”
The meeting chamber within the spire was austere by Alphius standards: a circular room with a crystalline table at its center and twelve high-backed chairs arranged around it. Ten were already occupied by Alphius, whose skin contained more pronounced crystal formations than Lun’ Vessa’s, giving them an almost armored appearance.
“Honored Council,” Lun’ Vessa announced as they entered. “I present Captain Simon Coulter, Earth Ambassador and my bonded mate.”
Simon noticed how she emphasized the bonded status and the subtle shift in the Council members’ posture in response—a relaxing of tension, an opening of previously closed expressions.
“Be welcomed, Captain Coulter,” spoke an Alphius with elaborate crystal formations extending from her temples like a crown. “I am Chief Counselor Zahra. We understand you seek access to our aether crystal deposits.”
Simon bowed at precisely the correct angle. “Thank you for receiving me, Chief Counselor. Earth seeks a mutually beneficial arrangement that respects Alphius sovereignty while addressing our energy crisis.”
What followed was six hours of the most intricate negotiations Simon had ever experienced. The Alphius proved to be meticulous, thoughtful negotiators who questioned every aspect of Earth’s proposal. Throughout, Lun’ Vessa remained at his side, occasionally offering clarification on cultural nuances or suggesting alternative phrasings when discussions reached impasses. Most surprising to Simon was how differently the Council treated him compared to the cold reception Earth’s previous envoys had reported. There was a warmth, an openness that seemed directly tied to his status as Lun’ Vessa’s bondmate.
During a brief recess, as they stood on a balcony overlooking the Crystal City, Simon voiced this observation.
“They trust you because they trust me,” Lun’ Vessa explained, the crystals beneath her skin catching the midday light. “And they trust me because they can read my resonance patterns. They know the bond is genuine.”
“But it’s a formality,” Simon protested. “A diplomatic accommodation.”
Lun’ Vessa turned to face him directly. “Is it? The resonance doesn’t lie, Simon. Whatever your conscious thoughts about this arrangement, your deeper patterns are harmonizing with mine. The Council can perceive that.”
The implication unsettled him. “You’re saying they can read my mind?”
“Not thoughts, no. But emotional states. Resonance patterns. Yes, to some degree. It’s why unbonded visitors struggle here. Their internal states are exposed in ways they’re not prepared for.”
“And you? Can you read these patterns too?” The question hung between them, weighted with implications Simon wasn’t ready to examine.
“To some degree,” she admitted. “Less precisely than a full Alphius like Elder Mirka, but more accurately than you might be comfortable with.”
Before Simon could process this revelation, they were called back to the negotiation table. The remainder of the day passed in a blur of proposals, counter-proposals, and careful diplomatic language. By the time they returned to their quarters that evening, Simon was mentally exhausted but cautiously optimistic.
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