"Warp drive in neutral- I'm fallin' into the timestream, here!" A Slitheen by the name of Shaey shouts into his communications. "There's nothing we can do, Shaey… I'm sorry!"

And so the ship fell into the timestream, and everything went black.

—-

It was a snowy day in England. The year? 1538. The date? The 19th of December. Shaey woke up with a throbbing pain in his head, his ship lying in ruins in front of him, his communicator busted. "Goddamn it… that was a rough landing." He stood slowly, looking around at the rolling snowy hills, checking his high-tech watch. 1538? He's really gonna need a suit… humans don't tend to take kindly to openly-out aliens yet… gonna be another 500 or so years until that happens. Wait.. someone's coming.

"Your Majesty! What be this metal boat?" Majesty? Oh, damn-

"Shush, Harkon. Go track that fox we saw. I must relieve myself."

"Yes, Your Majesty!" Shaey saw the squire scurry off… perfect time to strike. He'd have a lot of power in this suit, it seemed… Nice and plump, too… he clearly had an appetite. Would be a nice fit…

He watched as the King, who he now recognised as King Henry VIII from his mandatory Earth History classes, sidle up to a bush, beginning to relieve himself. He didn't see Shaey coming.

With a quick slice to the shoulder, the king fell, bleeding profusely. Shaey towered over him in stature, mercifully gleeful in his first kill, much like all Slitheen were. He licked the blood from his claw, converting the body into a suit, clambering inside before the squire returned, brushing himself off just in time. "Your Majesty!" He bowed. "I trust you have relieved yourself and are ready to get back to the hunt?" Shaey just smirked. "Very ready," He farts, moaning, "Blimey!" The squire seems confused, not by the flatulence (it seemed Henry was already very gassy), but by the manner of speaking. "Are you feeling yourself, Your Majesty?" Henry laughs heartily. "I will be later! Come on, you." He slams his arm around his squire, walking back to the hunting party.

Various other nobles and guards were part of this hunting party. "Your Majesty, your bow and arrow." One kneeled, handing Shaey the weapon. "Primitive…" He mutters under his breath, before coughing and taking the weapon. "Splendid- I mean, right-o! Bah, whatever…" He farts again, laughing at his new subjects' reactions- mixture of uncomfortableness, slight amusement and disgust. He stares at one of them, the apparent Earl of Essex, and snarls slightly. "Something wrong?" He asks. "It is quite… uncouth for someone of your stature to flatulate in public." The others seemed nervous, almost as if angering the monarch known for chopping off heads was a bad idea. "Stay here. You all, get lost. Head back to the residence…" The Earl gulped slightly, watching everybody struggle to make their decision for a moment… but it only took one swift look from the king, and they had left him. "Your Majesty, I-" He began, but he stopped when the king let loose once again.

PHHHBBBBTTT FRRRTTTTT PPRRPPPP!

"Ahhh, much better…" He sighed, rubbing his rounded belly. "Now… let's talk business."

"Busy… ness?" Shaey slapped him. "You'd think you'd have a bit more respect when talking to your king. Especially when all alone… and I have no reason to hide in this skin…" He smirks. "Skin? Your skin?" The Earl stumbled over his words, backing up slightly as he watched the king reach for his forehead, unzipping some sort of… oh my God! He ran as he looked behind him, what he had known as his king, slipping away to reveal a giant green beast, but not one of this Earth, surely…

Shaey, however, was in ecstasy. He had not long gotten into this skin, so to be getting out of it for this hunt was heavenly. His arse flapped with farts as he pulled the skin down his torso, letting it slip down from the sweat that had formed already. With one final pull down, he stepped out of the skin and began the chase. The Earl couldn't run as fast as he could…

He bounded down the hill, reaching the Earl in record time. "Pl-please! Please!" He begged. Cute. "You've made your last mistake, human. Try to make up for it in your next life." He laughed as his claws dug into the supple flesh, tearing the Earl apart, Shaey enjoying his feast. He belched, making his way slowly back to his skin suit, leaving the Earl's bare skeleton to gather snow on the field.

—

Upon reaching his skin, Shaey had made his way to the nearest castle, assuming that was his suit's royal residence - Windsor Castle. His guard greeted him outside. "Your Majesty! Wandering alone is not advisable, milord!" They bow. "I'm plenty good in a fight." Shaey belched, groaning as he slouched inside. This cold was not good for his suit - he was chafing- some snow and ice must've gotten inside it when he left it for the hunt. His throne room was adorned with the most ornate decorations, and he found himself laughing. He rushed over to his throne, sitting down with a loud fart, making his royal guard stifle a laugh. "Something funny?" He turns to him, and he shakes his head. "Bah- laugh away! Someone's got to take pleasure in these." He lifts his buttocks, ripping another, and his guard bursts out laughing. "Oh, sire, you're quite amusing!"

"Enter, the Earl of Lancaster!" A voice suddenly booms from the entrance to the royal court, making the two stop laughing and look up. The guard immediately puts on his serious face, staring forward, ready to jump into action. Shaey, however, is more intrigued.

"Your Majesty, I come to you for aid… this Christmas time will be the biggest and best England has ever seen! I implore you, host a grand feast!"

Shaey considers for a moment… hmmm… He does like other meats besides human… "Done. I shall send the missive as soon as I can!" He turns to his steward. "Fetch me a pen and parchment- our finest. Invite the mighty and powerful to dine in our halls on the eve of December 23!"

"Oh, thank you, milord! The kingdom thanks you!" He turns to leave, and Shaey smirks.

—

Hundreds gathered amongst one another at the event- stewards, knights, guards, dukes, duchesses, earls and lord mayors alike. But the main event seemed to be Henry- everybody wanted to talk to him. Over the last few days, this skin had become harder and harder to stay 'plugged up' in. That made conversation, particularly with those who saw flatulence as crude, harder. He was currently holed up in his chambers.

"I do apologise about earlier, Earl… I was simply… bah, what's the point in apologising?" He sneers at the mirror. A knock at the door.

"Your Majesty, the feast is beginning." He turns to leave.

"Thomas?"

He stopped dead in his tracks. Did the king, the king just refer to him by his first name? "Yes, your Majesty?" He turned, gulping.

"You don't think you could do me a favour? Come here…"

Thomas approached, shutting the chamber door. "I really should be getting back-." He's stopped when Shaey walks over to him, behind him, locking the door. "I always like to have an appetizer before my meal…" Thomas was shocked- sodomy?! "Your Majesty, I–." But he was all wrong.

Shaey reached for his forehead, pulling the zipper along its tracks, unleashing the harsh blue light. His skin squelched as he prepared to strip. He watched in delight as Thomas's face scrunched up, not knowing how to react- humans didn't have the class to appreciate fine form… that's a few thousand years coming. Farts unleashed out of his backside, the compression finally allowing his body to be free. He moaned as he pulled the skin down his backside, more wet farts slipping out. Soon, his slimy body was freed, and he immediately lunged for the poor servant boy.

The guests were too noisy to even hear the screams - and even if they noticed Thomas was gone, they wouldn't care.

Shaey returned to the festivities full of gas, his belly distended from his appetizer. He sat at the head of the table, downing a goblet of mead, immediately requesting another. His belly rumbled violently, his gas begging to escape him- but he wouldn't let it, keeping his cheeks clenched.

While scoffing down any food that came his way, his belly started to reach its breaking point as he navigated party talk. He taps his goblet, standing slowly. "I'd like to thank you all for coming to this wonderful Christmas feast. If it were not for the Earl of Lancaster, you would not be here today. However, I believe it is time for me to retire to my chambers…" He grunts, his face scrunching. "And this our Lord God send you a Merry Christmas, and a comfortable, to your heart's desire!" He signals for his personal guard to follow him, and once they're finally out of earshot, Shaey practically explodes out of his asshole, the resulting gas so astounding that even his guard is shocked. "How was that? Beat my last score?" His guard just laughs. "That more than beats your last score, milord!"

And the two laugh, Shaey settling into life as a Tudor royal.