Alien Abduction

I don’t know about outer space. I was never a geek with a toy telescope, charting the distant heavens and contemplating the alignment of the planets. If I looking at the stars as a kid, it was because I was too stupid to look where I was going at night.

I guess that much is still true. I was stumbling home from the bar, too drunk to remember that I had walked to the bar in the first place. I was looking at the clear, starless sky over my head. Probably about three in the morning. There wasn’t anything special that night. No meteor showers or anything like that, then suddenly I saw this whir of colors in the sky.

And like the dummy I am I stood and stared up at it. I thought maybe it was the Northern Lights. This rainbow of colors flickering all around me. I’d never seen anything like it. The lights got brighter and brighter. Then suddenly the colors were not in the sky. They were around me.
“Shit.”

I don’t know what the ship looked like. I remember a circular disc, but I remember thinking it only looked that way because the entire body was several rotors spinning. Like an upside down helicopter. Or three. Either way the upside down helicopters were falling on me. I figured this was my perception of time slowing down. The heavy feeling rooting me to the ground was panic in the face of death. But when I tried to run away, my arms and legs jerked like they were supposed too. I just didn’t go in the direction I was supposed to.
When I lifted my leg to run, I felt like I had jumped up instead. I fell upwards into the air. I flailed and toppled over from the feeling of weightlessness. I floated away from the earth.

The rainbow of colors grew brighter and brighter, until even with my eye squinted shut I could see the imprint of pastel yellows and greens and pinks. Then the light behind my eyes was white and the panic swelling in me disappeared and I knew nothing but a deep residual darkness as if my entire body had just shut down because it was unable to deal with too much sensation and panic.

*****

I don’t know how long it was until I woke. I remember reading in some safety packet at the plant that when someone is knocked unconscious they need medical attention immediately. Not like in the movies were Daniel Craig can black out for two hours and wake up fine like he took a nap. I felt like I was taking a nap.

I was groggy. Unaware of where I was. I wasn’t in my bed. I knew that in a distant hazy thought. My bed was not this comfortable. Neither was any hospital I had ever been in. I felt like I was sleeping on a cloud, sinking into the air, every muscle relaxing as if I were actually floating under breathable water.

My body willed myself to stay sleeping, but I started to wake up when I heard hospital sounds. Only they weren’t like a hospital. There was a beeping, but it was not a normal beeping. It was like a metronome clicking, softer than a hospital heart beat, buried underneath other sounds which made a kind of melody. A rhythmic humming of the same eight notes in slow up and down progressions. Like some kind of crappy new age music. There was also the very calming sound of air blowing in long slow puffs all around me. It took me a while to realize the sound was synchronized with my breathing. I realized every sound I heard was in tune with my breathing, my heartbeat, my body.

The humming notes shifted suddenly, a quick bang that echoed my realization. The music was my brain-waves. When I opened my eyes and the music went crazy.

I was floating in a rainbow pastel room, soft red and blues and green in thin streaks in the air making everything hazy and dim. But I could see machines, big machines shining in the haze as if they were made from a metallic element that was a lustrous white when it was sterling. I didn’t see no wire, but I knew that I was connected to those machines. This was some kind of laboratory, unlike anything I had ever seen before.

The music of my mind went wild, leaping from place to place in clunky notes. I tried to turn to see more of the room, to understand more about where I was, but my body was held in… bouncy traction. I could move my limbs but not quickly as if everything in my body was slowed and the air around me seemed to correct for my movement and always bump me back to the same position. Lying on my back with my arms and legs slightly spread and my face turned upwards.

I remembered the colors, the strange machine overhead, floating off the ground in a blaze of light and color scrambling to reach the earth, to hold onto anything to root me to my own planet. The planet that I had thought was the only planet with intelligent life.

Someone must’ve heard my panic play a different tune, because the next thing I heard was something outside enter the room. They had footsteps like people. A group of people. To many to count. I tried to turn my head to see them, to see where they came from, and what they looked like, but the rainbow haze holding me corrected for all my sluggish movements and I could only catch glimpses.

What I saw was… oddly exactly what I expected. I’m not a conspiracy nut. Like I said, before this I could give two shits about outer space. But I know what everyone thinks an alien is supposed to look like. The pale green skin, the big black eyes, the tall pointed ears. And that’s exactly what these fellows looked like. Big green heads with big black eyes and tiny mouths and noses bobbing over slender shoulders. They wore white suits over bodies that seemed entirely human, two arms, two legs, in mostly normal proportions. There was something off about this. As if they looked the way I wanted them to look. Somehow it was meant to be comforting, but it freaked me out a little.

I could tell they were talking, but the sounds they made were not words. It was organized and repeating. I wished I could see what gestures they were making. One in particular was speaking a lot. It had a lower voice than the others, authoritative and dignified. It reminded me of a professor I had back in community college. Academic since I can’t think of a better way to explain it. Something rested on my forehead and the music attached to my brain spiked again with my fear.

It was a dry cold thing. The alien’s hand. Two fingers, too wide and ending with flat spoon-ish tips rubbed at my temples and I felt myself drifting away again. The clatter and clunk of my panic receded again into soft melodic chords and I stared at the ceiling and listened to the droning voice of the alien touching my head.

I was an experiment in his hand, but I was safe. I would not be harmed. I wasn’t one of those humans. I was going to be cared for and protected. They had been watching me for a long time and they were just going to do a little experiment on me. I was safe.

It was not the alien’s voice in my head. It may have just been my own brain trying to understand why it was being manipulated and calmed down. I felt instinctively that it had something to do with the alien’s fingers on my forehead and the machine attached to my brain. In a last ditch effort to stay conscious I tried to pull my head away. I spun in the rainbow cloud and didn’t so much as dislodge his fingers.

I became so calm that I slept again while the alien spoke. My world of dreaming was nothing but that soft melodious voice and the way the music of my own body hummed along with it.

*****

I felt hands on me. Several pairs. They were gentle and tentative moving over my clothing. When I opened my eyes, I saw them through the dim rainbow haze. Pale green fingers. Each shaped slightly off. Like so many different sculptors trying to create the same image. Some had the wrong number of fingers, or the fingers had the wrong lengths, or lacked nails or had too many knuckles. But all touched gently, stroked over the fabric of my clothing.

The air was filled with hums of approval and curiosity and felt my suede jacket pulled off my arm. I saw the fingers pinching it and rubbing the brown fabric. One hand morphed into a jagged cutting edge, turning from the pale green I expected from an alien to an otherworldly red and brown and yellow thing.

The soft music in the background rattled as I felt a swell of panic. The jagged knife of the alien’s finger cut through the fabric of my jacket. There were several voices of dissent from the aliens, still gentle, chastising a customer or a respected colleague for doing something prematurely. That tentacle and the patch of my clothing disappeared from my vision. I felt a pressure on my temples and my panic went away again.

Everything was as it should be. Gentle hands touching me. Soft music playing. Pale green skin, smooth and pearly, humanoid hands. I was safe. As long as I was a good human I was safe.

It made me nervous, because I’ve never been too good at being good. I tend to misunderstand the rules. Poorly estimate the room I have to play. Like a wild dog to smart to be tamed, but too dumb to run away from the higher power feeding me scraps.
There was a flutter in the music as I wondered what happened to bad humans and the aliens muttered around me as if amused and interested in my curiosity. I tried not to think about what they wanted, about their morality, about what they could do to us. I concentrated on the hands rubbing over my arms and legs, the caressing on my stomach and neck.

The one behind me spoke to the others. His tone was knowledgeable and calming. The academic one. I had the impression of a tour guide or a teacher.

The hands moved in slow gentle circles for the most part. Sometime one pair would shift to following a trail up and down on my body. The one on my neck did that, seeming to enjoy the line of my throat and pressing tenderly on the underside of my chin and the bumpy trail of my esophagus. I should have been worried about the hand on my throat, an alien pressing too hard could very easily suffocate me, but I believed I was safe, I believed they knew what they were doing. I think that was the root of goodness; trusting that they would not hurt me.
I had the impression suddenly, that when they said they were watching me for a long time, they didn’t mean me, they meant us.

The aliens had been watching humanity for a long time. That we were strange animals they occasionally attacked and played with briefly, exotic creatures. It was illegal to interfere with us, and the craft that abducted me was filled with poachers not scientist. Poachers offering these aliens the chance to see and touch something forbidden, to take souvenirs of my clothes and treasure the memory of my skin under their falsely green fingers.

I liked the idea of poachers who were still gentle enough to supervise the behavior of the rich ones paying to toy with the protected species. I liked the idea of a species kind enough to protect an entire planet.

The one at my head, the one with the low voice, started speaking again. His spoon fingers fluttered through my hair lifting it tenderly and letting it fall over my face. I tilted my head and rolled my eyes far up to look at him. I don’t know if ‘him’’ is accurate. They didn’t seem masculine or feminine, a species without a sex. This one looked exactly as I expected an alien to look, the roundness of his green bald head, the big intelligent eyes, the tiny lips and thin slit of a nose. He had perfected his mask. This was the one in charge, the poacher carrying passengers to play with forbidden creatures, the head scientist running an experiment.

He noticed my eyes straining to see him and the thin lips parted a little pursing upwards not at the edges like a human smile, but lifting at the center. It still felt like a smile. I know it was a smile. His fingers on my head told me it was. He pushed at my head and tilted downward so that I could no longer see him.

But I could see his hands coming from behind me. His hands grazed down my chest and began to unbutton my jacket. The music of my mind shuddered and I realized the touch was arousing.

The alien behind me, the one taking off my jacket, he said something and the others around me cooed and their touch became more purposeful. Their hands helped with the buttons stroking over the suede and tugging it lightly away from me. The jacket slipped off my arms without resistance. I was truly floating in the air.

I like to think that I took it in stride, but most likely it was the alien’s fingers pressing into my temples that calmed me. I had that thought of myself as a jumpy wild dog again. Snapping when it was offered food and whimpering with confusion.
I don’t know what happened to the jacket. Something fluttered and scampered underneath me and I saw only the trace of something fast and yellow brown rushing away carrying the jacket. I imagined it torn up for souvenirs. Maybe cut into little pieces and dissolved into test tubes.

The aliens never stopped touching me, soft gentle hands stroking my now bare arms. Their hands were still chilled and bone dry and they chattered to each other over my prone body. I imagined their conversations about how weird and hairy I was. About how hot and wet my skin felt. How gross it was. How strange.

The cotton of my t-shirt was not as interesting to their hands as the suede though they stroked my stomach and chest through the t-shirt. I shivered again and wondered if the aliens knew the effect they were having on me. Did they understand physical arousal? What if that was what they were experimenting on? What if my arousal was what they had paid to see?

The leader, the one speaking behind me in low sonorous tones continued grazing his fingers through my hair and over my neck affectionately. I twisted to look up at him again, and once again he took my head firmly in his spoon fingers and tilted me back down. This time his hands dipped inside my shirt, into the collar of the soft cotton fabric. His fingers massaged and teased my shoulders and collarbone and the other aliens watched his progress almost jealously behind their large dark eyes.

He tugged at the shirt and the hem pulled out of my jeans. The aliens let out a sound like exhalations when they saw the skin revealed at my abdomen. The thin line of flesh where there was a line of hair into my jeans. When they began to touch me again, several of their bold hands moved away from my arms and clothed chest to the rumpled edge of my shirt. Alien fingers dipped under the shirt still rubbing tentative small circles over my abdomen, poking the muscles there. Their hands were greedy for my body for the firmness of my abdomen and I drew my belly tight both trying to satisfy them and to avoid the chill of their strange fingers. Their hands pressed harder, just slightly.

One on my right, the one who had taken a scrap of my jacket pressed very hard as if trying to push me down. I felt pinching fingers and shuddered remembering how the pale green, pleasant and familiar, had been a mask for the strange yellow and red thing that could cut through my jacket.

The one behind me barked and all the hands pulled away from me sharp and frightened. The aliens looked scared and all eyes turned from me to the one on my right. The alien behind me talked to him harshly and that alien responded in kind. An argument escalating. I saw the one on the right seem to melt and I shut my eyes so that I couldn’t see what their true form was like.

A pale green hand covered my eyes and I heard a slurping sound. The sound grew fainter and fainter until with a sound like something tinny popping open and shut, the sound was gone.

The fingers over my eyes gentled and stroked at my cheeks and hair and then the alien behind me spoke to the others again in soft gentle tones. I had been in danger and I had been saved. I was wild and dangerous and they had all been in danger but now I was safe again.
Their gentle caresses continued minus one and they shifted closer to me to make up for the missing gap. I thought I could feel them trembling as if they had been afraid I would be taken away, that they would be severed from their touching.

Some were more bold than the others and their hands returned beneath my shirt, stroking my skin, running over my muscles and my concave stomach. The alien behind me spoke to them and apparently, it was encouragement because all the hands pushed beneath my shirt and the cotton tee lifted as they pulled it as high up as they could.

Cold dry hands rubbed over my body tiny fingers gripping and pressing as if they could not get enough of the texture of my skin. I wondered if they were drawn to the heat of me, to the moisture in my body. I wondered if they knew how arousing their hands were.
They must have known the effect they had on my body. They could hear the steady increase in the metronome of my heartbeat, the rising wind of my breath, the varied notes of my mind. The music was faster now, less like new age crap and more like a song in a nightclub. I wondered if they liked the music. If they only heard it as scientific instruments rattling or if the sound was the whole point.

I felt something tug below me, and my shirt was cut from my back. It was the alien in charge and he pulled the cut cloth off my chest. For the first time, he walked into my view. He seemed taller than the others, and more masculine, but that was probably just my perception of the creature. Maybe he made himself seem that way because I wanted to see that.

The alien pulled my shirt away and off my arms and stood at my feet instead of behind my head. I saw that flash and scramble of something red and yellow again and the alien dropped my shirt into the puddle of red and yellow which disappeared as quickly as it had come.
Their fingers still curious and uncertain traced in little circles and lines over my bare chest and abdomen. Someone, after speaking to the lead alien, ducked a finger around my belly button. I trembled and tried to pull away and there was a chorus of sounds. I think it was laughter. Others did the same, painting careful line and tickling around my belly button as if they were afraid they would lose their finger if they put it inside.

The leader watched them with his lips puckering in that weird shape that may have been a smile. Then he said something quietly and his hands ran along my jeans between my slightly parted thighs. Some of his fingers, I guess, his thumbs rubbed along my cock and a bolt of arousal radiated through me.

The sound it made in the music was beautiful and the aliens turned towards the leader and all lifted their hands and waved their fingers at him in a kind of… gesture of appreciation. The leader pointed up along my body and stepped closer to me. The others made a space for him and his hands caressed over my nipples.

His finger tips soft and dented in, were deft as a violinist plucking at strings and danced across my nipples. Alternatively, pinching and rubbing, stroking and tickling. I groaned.
The aliens flustered and all hands except for the leaders abandoned my body. There was another chorus of the laughter sound and they all spoke at once.

The leader stroked my neck, loving soothingly, and I shuddered again. I had broken into a sweat. Not from fear but from lust. I was not an experiment or a zoo attraction. I was an object of desire, a toy they were here to play with and the one stroking me now, lean cool fingers drawing little symbols on my chest and neck and ear, was the master showing off.

The leader cooed them back around me and their hands fell on me again, imitating his tickling fingers and sending shivers of arousal through my body. And I could feel my cock beginning to grow, reacting to their touch and tenderness, because it didn’t know any better.
I didn’t know what to do. Should I fight it? Should I try to keep myself silent as possible? Or give in to it? Maybe if I was verbal they would enjoy that. Maybe if they enjoyed it they would let me go. Maybe if I enjoyed it they would not let me go, but keep me forever. My life would be reduced to a series of rainbow prisons and aliens curious about what turned me on experimenting and stroking me. Is that what it meant to be a good human?

The leader slipped his hands down to my jeans and pressed down on my cock. I gasped for breath and it seemed for a moment even the music was silent. The alien grazed his fingers along the edge of the bulge and the other aliens muttered soft sounds. They seemed to appreciate the mystery he was showing them, the mystery of my cock hiding in my jeans.

I shuddered as the leader invited each of them to stoke my cock though the fabric of my jeans. Their hands seemed to multiply. They stroked my chest and nipples and stomach and belly in soft lingering strokes waiting patiently for their turn to grasp my cock through the fabric of my jeans. My legs became a source of interest and they pet and ground against my jeans. Only one of them seemed to know what to do with my hidden cock and he wasn’t telling his secrets to them not yet.

My cock felt like it was about to burst. I had determined to hold back to refuse to give them any sound that I liked what they were doing. Then I recognized the leader taking hold of my shielded prick again. His fingers, graceful and long, plied just the right areas, finding a way to wrap around most of my shaft and rub it gently along the inside of my jeans and briefs. The pulse of the music, the sound of my own body, throbbed through me. My heartbeat was coming so quickly and my breath was gusts that felt like they were blowing through the entire room.

I was going to cum and it horrified me.
“Please, stop,” I begged suddenly.

The aliens all looked to the leader for explanation and clarification, for permission and understanding. He leaned over my body and his hand grazed over my temples. For the first time, I felt his voice. “You must not be so aware.”

I snorted. My ‘awareness’ was my defining trait. I was not particularly smart. I didn’t retain well, or think outside the box, or read people’s faces. I was aware. Observant. I had been curious once, but that kind of thing gets beat out of you where I’m from. Maybe I had looked at the stars once, maybe I could’ve been smart. But instead I was aware and damn it I wasn’t letting that go.
“It is not good for you to be so aware. You will not enjoy it if you are so aware. I want you to enjoy it.”

I could feel an alien mind rumbling through mine, shifting through my feelings and doubts. They seemed to disappear as they surfaced. Was I meant to enjoy this? Would I be released if I did? Would I survive this abduction? These thought melted into nothing and I was aware that the music had shifted slowly back to the soothing chords. Then, I had no thoughts left.

The thought, that I had no thought left, made a delightful trill. I smiled hearing it. I think therefore I am. The foundation of Descartes’ belief in God. I finally understood it.
The leader’s hands grazed over my body again and ended at the buttons of my jeans. I didn’t think about it when his cold hands manipulated the button, or how the hazy colored air seeped into my pants. I watched the aliens’ faces, watched they eyes widen with appreciation as their leader gently tugged at my jeans and briefs and pulled my clothing away completely.

I didn’t see the dart of red and yellow, but I heard it come and go and I wondered again what they did with my clothing. I thought about waking up naked in a foreign place, probably in public, where I would rant about aliens and space ships and everyone would think I was crazy. I was crazy. There was no way they would bring me back.

That was one of those aware thoughts. I let it fly away. And thought about touch, about sensation. I stopped thinking and started feeling.

The aliens gathered around my lower torso hands still on my stomach and thighs and all eyes were on my cock. It was a good specimen to study. Circumcised, with a neatly trimmed bush, a rosy brown shaft jutting out and standing proudly displaying its crested head. The leader showed them my balls and demonstrated how they swung and pulled gently on them, teasing me. Then he wrapped his fingers around my shaft and pulled slowly upward. His fingers did not have the right bones and the flexibility of his hand made me shudder with fear and then with arousal.

Once again they all took turns with my cock and balls. They fondled and stroked, some shyly and nervously. Some with boldness who kept going until the leader told them to stop. I stopped watching, trying to hold back. This was a show and there was a proper finale and I wasn’t going to be the one who ruined it. I shut my eyes to stop seeing their eerie green skin and sideways smiles and large longing eyes. I focused on the pleasure in my cock, the stewing in my balls threatening to spew geyser-like from my body.

Then my cock was in the leader’s hand again. I could tell the instant he touched me. I recognized the skill in his fingertips, the way he set about manipulating my shaft with dexterity and proper pressure. There was no way I was could hold back, but I wasn’t going to give in easily. I fought the rising pleasure and the need to explode. But my body didn’t know what was happening. My cock couldn’t differentiate the feeling of pleasure, couldn’t rationalize that this was a surrender.

I don’t know why I didn’t see it coming. All the talk of anal probing and shit like that. But I suddenly felt something else between my legs. Not a finger, I could see both of the leader’s hands around my cock and balls. I didn’t want to know what the third member was, how it so carefully, so politely invaded me. There was no pain, just the tiniest feeling of something slipping in where I did not think it belonged. Then the tendril began to swell, stretching me. I felt it pressing on parts of me that I hadn’t known could bring me pleasure and I moaned as it began to go faster.

The others watching seemed to pop and bubble with questions, but their leader ignored them. He was focused on me. All his attention was on my body. My cock, my ass, my persistent resistance to relief. Whatever he was using to fuck me, it moved faster and deeper and I stifled my moans of delight.

My breath was coming hard and my heart was pounding out of my chest, making the music in the room deafening and intricate. I had never thought about how much brain activity it took to orgasm. I opened my eyes to glare at the alien pleasuring me. To let him know I rejected his pleasure.

The alien wasn’t looking at me. He was watching my cock. He thrust even deeper, stroked my cock faster and he stopped fondling my balls to squeeze my shaft harder. To free his other hand. I felt something at my tip, a gentle suckling feeling that send a sharp wave of pleasure through my cock. I would have lost it right there if I hadn’t been freaked out by the thing he had placed on the tip of my cock.

It was a clear soft tube. I thought for a minute that it was a condom, but it was sucking, a deep slow sucking. It was warmer than the alien’s hand and I wondered if it was some kind of mouth. I settled for the idea that it was their version of a test tube. He was harvesting my semen. He was going to try to create humans in a lab so that he didn’t have to travel all the way out to the planet the next time a group of rich ones wanted to get their jollies by jerking off an alien creature.

Still the thing on my cock felt good. It was wet and sucking and just took in the tip of my shaft molding around my cockhead. I groaned again and the fingers around my cock squeezed harder in response. The alien’s hand returned to fondling my balls, gently rubbing them as his other fingers milked at my shaft.

Finally the pleasure was too intense and I couldn’t stand it. I let out a sputtering cry and I felt my load shoot into whatever they had capped my cock with. The music was all pulse and fast rapid notes. I was holding my breath and the notes were wild with my pleasure, a cacophony of sensation that didn’t do justice to the pouring of release. Everything tense in my relaxed and flooded out of my cock. The jizz flowed out of me and filled the clear tube and I groaned and kept firing.

The alien with his hands on my cock and balls never let down or relented in his pace. He only started slowing when I stopped firing, when my breathing and heartbeat started slowing to normal. The other aliens were waggling their fingers again in that weird gesture. I thought it was maybe like clapping.

Whatever was in my ass withered and slipped away. The leader pinched whatever was holding my cum and handed it to something under the table. I heard it scampering away. Then the alien walked back around me to stand behind me and pressed his fingers on my temples again.

In the haze of brightening colors, I heard distant impressions of the alien’s thoughts again. Gentle gratitude for letting them experience me. Reassurance that I was safe. The vague threat that he would come for me again. Not for us. Not for humanity. For me.
Then the whiteness took over and I lost track of myself.

*****

When I opened my eyes, there was sunlight falling around me in slanted lines and the sound of something tunelessly chirping. I looked around and saw that I was laying on my front porch. It was a warm day, but probably still early morning.
I had fallen asleep walking home, passed out drunk on my porch. I’d had a nightmare. That was the only explanation.

Until I sat up and realized I was naked as the day I was born.

Now I don’t go around talking about aliens. I knew too many guys who talked about anal probing and UFOs to think my experience could make a difference or even be believed. But as I sat naked on my porch and considered the far-reaching implications of other life in the galaxy, I was slightly comforted. It was probably a good thing for humanity that the aliens only seemed to be perverts.

*****

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