© 2004 Snooper. All rights reserved.
The author has asserted moral rights under sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between any of the characters depicted herein and any real person, living or dead is wholly a matter of Nature imitating Art.
From an idea by Ladidarkmoon.
Sandra Thiery's relationship with Keith Cannon was definitely an unusual one; they had met a couple of years earlier, while Sandra was already engaged to her husband, James Welton. Their engagement was, and remained, a serious relationship. From the evening they formally agreed to marry, James on bended knee in the romantic restaurant, the whole bit, they had lived together ... but Sandra had an almost instant crush on Keith.
They were friends in an off and on sort of way through the first year that they knew each other, partly because he was still at college and partly because she was engrossed in planning her wedding, with all the distractions that brings.
Then, about a year after the wedding, when she became Sandra Welton, she and Keith started to talk regularly on the phone. Online chat became their preferred method of communication and they began to flirt ... a lot. Whenever they met it was clear to everyone around them that they really liked each other. Nevertheless, by this time Sandra was pregnant with her husband's child, and very happy to be so.
The day started normally enough for Sandra.
She lay in bed, feeling the weight, first of her growing baby, then the heavier weight of James, her husband, as he pushed his manhood deep into her welcoming body. 'Visiting the baby' they called it, and Sandra was one of those women who were made much more horny by pregnancy, so there were as many visits as she could persuade her husband to make.
She had never had any other man, and until now she had never wondered about what it would be like to feel a different prick in her cunt. Now, though she found herself thinking about every man she saw. Was it thicker, longer, darker, better, than James's? She had seen, touched, and even tasted, a few pricks before she was married so she knew they differed, but she had gone to James a virgin. Not, admittedly, on her wedding day, because they had lived together for six months before that, but she had slept only with him.
So it was that she was wondering about the man she saw in the supermarket car park as she carried her few purchases out to the car.
'He looks odd,' she thought, 'Almost wider than he is tall, yet he doesn't look fat. Is his prick wider than it is long? How would that feel?'
She shivered as an unknown dread overcame her; suddenly she feared being split apart by a man with a four inch long prick that was six inches across.
'Stop it,' she told herself, 'Nobody's built like that. Don't be silly.'
Suddenly a hand was clamped over her mouth and a sweet smell assailed her nostrils, swiftly followed by a feeling of falling into a deep black hole as the world vanished.
When she woke up she was in a metal cage, a six foot cube with nowhere to sit. A dish with water in it was in one corner and the door was securely locked.
'It looks like a cage for a lion in a zoo,' she thought, 'except they would give a lion more room.'
Looking round her, she realised she was some distance out of town, where the scrub was still quite thick, but definitely heading out towards the desert. There were a number of other cages in sight, some with occupants, others without. One had a dog in it, another a cow, and a third had a pair of very frightened looking teenagers, but they were too far away to talk to without shouting. For some reason she thought that shouting would be a bad idea, though she could not have explained why.
Eventually two of her captors came close to the cages and Sandra's worst fears were realised. They were naked, and grossly male, as she had imagined. There was something else odd about them that she could not quite put her finger on. It was their genitals which really threw her; each had a penis which was fairly short, about six inches, but much wider, perhaps nine inches in diameter, about as thick as their thighs. From the way they flopped as the males walked their pricks were clearly not roused.
'God help me,' she thought, 'If one is that size when it's soft, what would it be like roused? No way could I get it in me, not even my mouth. Not even the beginning of it. Where do these men come from?'
The cages were opened and the alien men pushed all of them out on to the grass, then began to lash them lightly with whip that had appeared from nowhere. These stung as they landed so Sandra automatically moved forwards, then as she realised that the scrub land before her was unfenced she started to run away from the cages, and the whips.
'It can't be true,' she thought, 'They can't have let us go.'
Still she ran as fast as she could, the presence of the baby in her womb giving her a mental strength she didn't know she had, but which encouraged her body into running faster than she had in years. She had covered about twenty-five yards and was breathing hard when she felt a slight sting in her right shoulder, and after taking a few more steps her legs turned to rubber and she fell heavily.
'Tranquilliser dart,' Sandra thought, 'They shot me ... with ... a ...'
When Sandra woke she had an abominable headache and was again in captivity. Within a very few minutes her head cleared and she began to take an interest in her surroundings.
'A boat,' she thought, 'I'm on some sort of boat.'
The walls were metal and the floor and ceiling were metal painted a dull green. There was a drain hole in one corner of the room, and the whole floor sloped slightly towards it, evidently to allow the accommodation to be washed out. The only relief from the bare cell was that there was a dish of water on the floor, and a ledge, some two feet six from the floor, presumably to act as a bed. The cracks at the edges of the door could just be discerned in the wall opposite the ledge, but there was no handle on the inside. Then she was struck by the light. There was no light fitting, no bulb, no glowing panels, just light in the room. It was quite strong enough for all practical purposes, but it seemed to come equally from all the walls, the ceiling and even the floor, though no part of the surface seemed actually to be glowing.
After a while the door slid back and sideways, like a door on a train, and an alien came in. Again it was a hugely endowed male, and Sandra's attention was riveted on that enormous penis. As she stared at it a plastic netting bag was placed over her head and pulled tight, preventing her from opening her mouth, but allowing her to see and breath normally.
'God,' she thought, 'He's muzzled me like I would a dangerous dog!'
The alien gripped her by one arm and dragged her firmly through the door and into a corridor. It was then she finally looked at the alien enough to realise two things about it, other than it's enormous penis. The first was that the subtle oddity of appearance was that it had five fingers on each hand, but that both of the end ones were thumbs. This made its grip much more secure than that of a human, because the thumbs both folded over whatever it was holding and met like the jaws of hand-cuffs. The second was that its skin was cold, and covered with very fine scales.
'It's a reptile,' she thought, and almost fainted at the shock.
By the time she had calmed down, she found herself flat on her back on a table with her ankles and wrists securely fastened in restraints leaving her spread-eagled and feeling very vulnerable.
One of the aliens approached her and studied her from all angles for a long time, making funny noises to his companion, a female. As this continued, Sandra realised that the male was making observations and the female was recording them. After inspecting her for some time, the alien attached a device to her hand which she could not quite see, but which evidently gave rise to some interesting observations, because there was quite a flurry of chatter.
Next the male came and touched the side of her hip very tentatively. Soon it was running its odd, double-thumbed hands all over her body. Finding her breasts were much softer than the rest of her it began searching the surface of her blouse as though looking for something.
'It's just like the doctor feeling the skin on your hand to try to decide what's happened to the bones under it,' she thought.
More prodding and palpating, and the alien very gently and tentatively lifted the front of her skirt.
'Here comes the rape,' she thought.
The alien seemed to be lifting it very gently indeed, and it took some time before Sandra realised that the aliens' lack of clothing meant that they had no idea that her skirt was not actually a part of her body, a flap of differently coloured skin. Not so stupid, after all she wasn't a blonde! The delicate handling was because they did not want to harm their specimen.
When her skirt was laid back on her belly, showing her legs, sensible cotton knickers, and hold-up stockings the differing textures were examined thoroughly, causing volumes of observations to be recorded. The edge of one leg of her knickers was lifted with infinitely more care than any human male would use, and the skin beneath was examined. As the edge was lifted higher the fringe of her pubes became visible to the alien and there was another enormous amount of chatter.
Suddenly it was all over. She was released from the shackles and lifted to upright ready, she assumed, to be returned to her cell.
Why she did it she did not know. Perhaps it was a moment of madness, perhaps she wanted to be fucked after thinking about it so much, but using the one free hand, she released the waistband of her skirt and stepped out of it. Pushing first one edge and then the other down over her hips she dropped her knickers also, and stepped out of them.
The aliens' surprise at this shedding of what they had thought was her skin was palpable, and the one holding her arm was so shocked that he let go. Quickly she stripped off her blouse and her brassière and stood before them clad only in her stockings.
"There," she said, "Is that what you want?" and she lay back down on the table.
The aliens recovered their poise and quickly strapped her down again. The male went over to what was clearly a telephone and made a call.
Moments later another female alien came into the room and took her clothes away.
The examination of Sandra's physiology started again. To be fair, the alien was extremely gentle, and there was no sign of the stinging whip. If Sandra so much as winced, the alien immediately stopped whatever had caused it. The first close scrutiny was of her breasts, and for quite some time the alien pushed and stroked at these, becoming very agitated as the nipple reacted to the light touches, inevitably becoming erect. A small suction tube was attached to one of them, and although it got almost no milk out of her teat, Sandra found herself becoming more and more sexually aroused.
It was the female who pointed out to the male that Sandra's clitoris was also erecting, and the light pink tip was peeping out from its hood between her lightly furred labia. This too was touched lightly by the male, and responded to his gentle fingers in the most natural way possible.
As Sandra's mind whirled off into the firework illuminated universe called orgasm, she was vaguely aware of alien fingers spreading her labia, and an alien finger entering her vagina, oh so gently and oh so excitingly.
As she came down from her first alien induced orgasm, Sandra was aware that there was an alien finger penetrating her in a place nobody had ever been allowed before. She set up an automatic screech of outrage at the penetration of her anus, and the alien withdrew at once to a safe three feet away from her shackled form. A mechanical arm lowered a large pad across her face and held it there for longer than she could hold her breath, until she was forced to inhale the sweetish smelling fumes from the pad. She felt as though she was falling away, her mind spinning into a blackness ...
When Sandra came round from the drugs she thought she was back in her own cell, but then realised that she wasn't. She was in one half of a twin shelf cell and lying on the shelf opposite, on his side, leering at her nakedness, was the teen-aged boy she had last seen in a cage in the scrub near home.
As she tried to get up, he said, "Hi. I'm Harry. Stay there. You need five minutes to recover. Then they'll lift this screen and we can fuck."
"Screen?" she asked.
"Sure," said the young man, "There's a glass screen between us, but it's that non-reflective stuff like they use on paintings and car instruments. When they think you're better, they'll lift the screen and we can fuck, like I said."
"There is no way I'm going to sleep with you. I'm a respectable married woman and I'm pregnant," Sandra said, sniffily.
"Who said anything about sleep?" asked the boy, "I done this before. If I don't fuck you, or you try to resist, one of them comes in and stings us. Them aliens wants us to fuck."
"Stings?" Sandra was confused.
"Yeah. When they let us out, back on earth, you remember, the whip while we was all running. Well it ain't a whip; it's a sort of tail that whips round and stings. I ain't fixin' to have it no more, so you better be fuckable. Seems like I'm the only stud they got, cuz you're the third woman I've had since we came here, not even counting Tricia what they caught me with. She'll fuck anything."
Just then the screen slid down into the floor and the boy came over to her bed. Close examination of his acne covered face did not make him any more attractive than he had been while safely the other side of the screen. His erection was large, dark red and angry; Sandra did not doubt for a moment that he meant to use it; her plea of pregnancy had cut no ice with him.
"Are you even old enough for sex?" Sandra asked him, curling up into a ball.
"I'm eighteen," he said, angry now, "Open them legs so I can get into you."
Driven by panic more than anger, Sandra kicked out at him and caught him off balance as he tried to get on to the sleeping ledge with her. As he crashed to the floor he hit his head hard and knocked himself cold. Quickly she rolled him under the ledge and tried to use the pallet from the other ledge to pack him in tightly.
'God, that's done it,' she thought, 'They won't like that.'
She was right. Two aliens, both male, came into the cell and whipped at her with their odd, tentacle-like retractable stinging tails. Three or four strokes from each of them and she passed out with the pain ...
When she woke again, stiff and still stinging from the whipping she had been given, she was still in a double cell, but alone. Her arm had a nasty bruise where the aliens had clearly taken a blood sample, and done it rather clumsily at that. Her vagina was also rather sore, and she wondered if she had been raped, mated as the aliens would see it, while unconscious. Closer examination of her tender parts revealed no trace of semen, so she concluded that she had been subjected to a rather unfeeling internal examination.
No other man was put in with her that day, but nor did she get an evening meal. When the lights dimmed she found it difficult to sleep, and tossed and turned all night, worrying about whether she would be subjected to further attacks, and whether that might damage her baby. She couldn't really blame the young man, Harry, because those stinging whips were a nightmare.
It was just after breakfast when one of the aliens handed Sandra a flat hand-held TV screen, about a twelve inch model, too big to hold easily, too small to put down and watch from a distance. It was some sort of over-sized palm-top, with an integral keypad. The odd thing was that there were only three buttons on it, two of them marked as arrows left and right. Sandra pressed the left button, but nothing happened. The alien snatched back the screen and pressed the centre button; the screen lit up with the picture of a man as it was returned to her.
'Hey, I would have tried that next,' she thought, but she knew the aliens thought she was fairly stupid.
It seemed odd to Sandra that the aliens, who had no hair to speak of, should think she had no brains, just because she was a woman.
Returning her attention to the screen, she looked at the picture, but it was just a still photo of a man she didn't recognise. Pressing the right arrow button changed the picture to another man she didn't know. Pressing the left arrow changed it back to the previous man. Right brought up the second guy. Sandra looked up and realised that the aliens were watching me closely.
'Some kind of test?' she wondered, then it hit her, 'Maybe I am to pick a man to share my cell, and my bed?'
Feverishly she clicked through the pictures, but didn't recognise any of them; no Robert Redford, no Richard Geer, no Hugh Grant, just ordinary people, strangers and none any more or less appealing than the others. Then one picture caught Sandra's eye as they flicked through on fast forward, achieved by holding one of the direction buttons down. She carefully backed up one frame at a time until he was on the screen again.
"Yes," She breathed, "Yes!"
It was definitely Keith Cannon, her friend. She left the picture where it was and set the monitor on the ledge. One of the aliens reached out and changed the picture to the next one. Sandra changed it back. The alien changed it to the previous guy in the gallery, and again Sandra changed it to Keith. The alien took the monitor and switched it off. When Sandra tried to reach for it she got a whip waved at her for her trouble and the aliens all left. Nothing much happened, as usual, and after a while Sandra lay on the ledge and tried to doze, but it wasn't easy after the sharp reminder of home that Keith's picture represented.
Sandra woke when the door of her cell opened and two aliens came in carrying an unconscious naked man, whom they dumped face down on the ledge. As they turned to go, one lashed out hard with his tentacle, whipping the unconscious man across the buttocks, and then Sandra across the breasts, eliciting a scream of outrage and pain from her.
When she got her breath back and the pain in her breasts had subsided, Sandra remembered that the alien had looked rather the worse for wear, as though someone or something had been hitting him. The man on the bed was in a terrible state, with long angry red weals criss-crossing his back where one, or perhaps several aliens had whipped him thoroughly.
With some effort, Sandra turned him over, only to discover that it was Keith; a very battered Keith with whip marks across his torso and belly, and even one across his face. Using the water from her bowl, and her hair as a cloth, she gently sponged his worst whip marks, not really knowing what to do to help him.
It was some time before he stirred and his first movement was to hit out weakly at Sandra, who retreated across the cell, out of his reach.
"Keith," she said, "Keith. It's me, Sandra. Don't hit me, please. Don't you remember me?"
Keith looked vacantly at her for a moment and then with an obvious effort, focused his eyes on her.
After a few more moments he said, in a very uncertain voice, "Sandra?"
"Yes. Did the aliens catch you as well?"
"Those bastards," he spat out trying to get up.
"Stay where you are for a bit. You'll feel better, and I'm certainly not going to hit you," she said soothingly, "Tell me what happened?"
"I was making a visit to one of my customers when this huge guy with an enormous ..." he broke off, blushing.