Abducted

On the day the aliens came, I was sunbathing in Frist's Quad, earbuds blaring, mindlessly happy and infinitely helpless.

It was hot, that day, the sun half way between zenith and sunset, blazing down. I was lying on a towel in the grass, waiting for a friend, thinking about which party to go to that night and if I should withdraw from a class about Melville I knew I'd hate, whether I should go ahead and have sex with a guy I knew had a crush on me. Innocent, in a weird way. Still full of childish hope and the expectation that the future held great things.

The screams blended with the music. At first I didn't notice them, just thought the song got weird. It wasn't until running people kept blocking out my sun, moving faster than was normal, and the screams got louder, pinpointed with feral shouts, that I realized something was off. Really off.

I sat up, mouth dropping.

Lia Greven, the girl from my ethics class who always wore seven or eight bangles on each wrist and spun her pe during tests was tackled to the ground by a man the size of a building. She screamed, facedown in the grass on a Tuesday at 4pm, in the middle of one of the safest cities in one of the safest countries in the world. The sound cut through the air. He laughed, white teeth flashing, joyous as a kid on a slide, and tossed his long, braided hair over his shoulders and looped her hands together with a gray belt. When she bucked under him, he swatter her on the ass, and looped a second belt around her ankles. Like she was nothing, just an animal. Less than an animal. A thing.

More people ran. Guys. Girls. Some I recognized. Some I didn't. More building-sized men in kilts, with bare chests strapped with knives and swords, following them, calling out to one another like this was nothing new for them. Just a fun day in the sun. They chased down my classmates as casually as a frat boy might toss a frisbee.

Oddly, the running men weren't the thing that terrified me most. One of them wasn't moving. He was staring at me, standing in the middle of this screaming, chaotic frenzy, his head cocked, eyes locked on me like there was no one else in the world. Like he had forever.

I didn't know much, but I knew whatever it was he was thinking, it meant nothing good for me.

I stood slowly, my breath leaving my body with a full body shudder.

He started walking.

I took a step away from him. Frist Hall was twenty yards behind me. I could run. I could make it. Maybe.

I turned in my heel and ran, pumping my arms, straining my legs, pushing off with my feet with all I had, as fast as I could. I ran for my life, put every single thing I had inside me into that run.

I made it five steps.

Something closed around my biceps and spun me full circle.

Him. He was bigger up close, shoulders that blocked out the sun, a jaw like iron, inscrutable eyes, and a nose that had been broken a few times over. Scars on his forehead. Scars on his chin. Scars down the massive pectoral muscles of his bare chest. Inhuman. Cold. Expressionless. Animal.

I slapped his face as hard as I could. It was a reflex. I think it was that or shit my bikini.

A grin spread across his face, white teeth flashing in a swarthy unshaved face. He looked like I'd surprised him. It was the way people look at dogs that can sing or cats that ride on skateboards, like I'd performed some clever and unanticipated trick for him.

My brother and I used to do this thing to each other. We'd stare over each other's shoulders, widen our eyes, try to convince the other something horrible was behind them. I don't know why, but that's the only thing that occurred to me to do in that moment. I looked at the air behind him, the screaming girls and the chasing men, and let my jaw drop, the horror fill my eyes. I ducked like something was coming our way fast, screaming.

He frowned. His free hand went to the belt at his waist, wrapped around the handle of the sword there. He let go of my arm, crouching and spinning in a one smooth move, fluid, like watching a jungle cat or a wolf preparing to jump, muscles bunching and coiling above the leather arm bands around his forearms to face the imaginary foe charing behind him.

The second his eyes left mine, I was off and running, because he wasn't my brother and this wasn't a game.

A second later a loud bark of a laugh followed me and that was all the warning I got. This time, he jumped on me. I fell forward, face in the grass, his massive body holding me down, the cups of my bikini sliding off my breasts, baring them to rub in the dirt. He got a knee wedged between my thighs, rammed it up so hard I grunted. He dragged my hands together, wrapped them in one massive, inexorable fist, and flipped me over, forcing my legs apart against, kneeling between my parted thighs. He studied my wobbling breasts, the laughter fading from his face and being replaced with something far more terrifying.

"Get off me!" I twisted in his grip, tried to lift my legs to kick him, but he blocked me, pinned me down with his weight, and spoke in a language I couldn't understand. Urgent words. Angry words. Commands I couldn't hope to understand and if I had wouldn't have obeyed. I didn't stop fighting. I would not be bound up with belts and carted off like cattle.

"Let me go."

When I squirmed and bucked, his eyes narrowed. Gagara. Na. Na graya.

Whatever that meant, I didn't care. "No. No gagara!" I shouted up at him.

His eyes crinkled. I'd amused him again

Still holding me pinned beneath him, he stroked a hand over my hair, held up a long, blond bunch of it. "Spayada. Leean."

"No spayada," I hissed, trying to yank my head away from him, but all I succeeded in doing was smashing my skull against a rock on the dirt beneath me.

He stroked his thumb along my lips. I tried to bite him. He grinned and slapped my cheek gentle, his tone going chiding as he made more of his gibberish sounds. His hips ground mine into the dirt, I kept kicking my legs against him, which only rocked him deeper into the cradle of my thighs, pushing the increasingly large, increasingly hard part of him I didn't want to notice against me, the only thing between it, the leather of his kilt and the thin fabric of my bikini bottoms.

"Please," I whispered. "Please don't." Tears burned the back of my eyes.

He titled his head to the side, touched his forefinger to the corner of my eyes, brought the finger up to study, frowning at it as if he'd never seen such a thing in his life, then licked it.

More gibberish.

More screaming all around us.

One of the men chased a girl past us, then stopped when he saw the guy on top of me. They traded words, the monster-man on top of me tensing, his face turning to a growl. The other one shrugged, all nonchalant. A suit-yourself gesture. And off he went, chasing down another woman. I looked back at the direction they'd come from. An enormous sphere was there, surrounded by a ghostly blue light. A line of girls, hogtied sat beside it. Maybe fifty of them? All tidy and organized. One of them, kilted and strapped with weapons was making notes on a clipboard, pointing at them and counting.

Oh god. They started loading the women into the sphere. One after another. Hefting them up like cargo being loaded into the belly of an airplane, and taking them off into the darkness of the ship, headless of the screaming and crying and twisting.

I kept on bucking and shoving and pushing and begging and pleading, but the monster on top of me didn't move. Instead he took his free hand and ripped off my bikini top. Shaking my head back and forth as if I could will him to stop, I braced myself. This was it. Maybe he'd have his fun and leave me be? It would be better than wherever they're taking those girls.

He did the same with my bikini bottoms. A yank and they tore right down the center. With his body wedged between my thighs and my hands trapped above my head, I couldn't block his gaze or stop him. He reared up, peering down at my bared skin. He reached down, under his kilt, baring a cock the size of a baseball bat. I squeezed my eyes shut, pleading. Stop. Stop. Stop.

There was a sharp jerk, but what I expected didn't happen. I'd expected him to put that bat inside of me. He didn't.

Something wet and hot spurted over my chest.

I popped open my eyelids. Another spurt, this one got my neck, a long streak of thick white. He was stroking the bat, his eyes rolled back, his hips moving, his mouth slack. Spurt after spurt sprayed out, to coat my breasts, pool along my sternum and in my collar bones, splatter over my lips and cheeks. More, too puddle in my bellybutton, drip lower, slide between my thighs. Coating me. It just kept coming. So much of it in human amounts. It slid between my lips, salty and hot and sticky, and so powerful I couldn't deny it.

Stunned into stillness, I just lay beneath him, too surprised to fight.

He let out a long grunt and a final salvo sprayed out to leave a stripe from my forehead to my chin.

He smiled down at me as if I'd done something wonderful, as if I was wonderful. All the warmth of a hundred suns, shining behind his eyes. "Spayada."

I blinked. Shook my head. "No spayada." As I spoke, cum dripped down my lips to flood my mouth. I made a face, turned away, tried to spit it out.

"Spayada." His let go of his cock and the thing flopped down on my belly with a heavy splat, and used that same hand to push all the sticky mess on my face into my mouth. When I bit him, his eyes narrowed.

From his belt, he pulled those shackles, a hard length of gray leather. Ignoring my protests, he looped it around my wrists. Then both hands free, thick thigh holding my legs down, he pried my mouth open with a hard finger at the corner of my jaw, scooped handful after handful of salty sticky mess into my mouth. I tried not to swallow it, but some made it's way into my belly.

If that wasn't enough, he rubbed the mess around the skin of my neck, massaged it into my nipples where it tingled and buzzed and made them hard, then lower, pushing some of it inside me along with a thick finger, his thumb grazing over my clit, another finger going lower, using cum for lube and forcing it's way into my ass. When I squealed he grinned and spoke more gibberish. When he was done, when I was nothing but a slimy, cum-covered mess, he stood and dragged me with him, back to that ship, where all the girls had been loaded onto shelves, strapped down. I resisted every step of the way and earned myself nothing more than a few swats on the ass, and once a smack to my left breast which hurt. He did not, as I had expected him to, truss my ankles together and stack me up with the other girls like groceries on a shelf.

Instead, he took me to a staircase, shoved me up in front of him, past lines of kilted men with a variety of barbaric hairstyles and tattoos and beards, who leered at me and shouted taunts his way. He ignored them all, paraded me to the top of the sphere, to stop before a man who had to be their leader. They spoke. Heatedly, back and forth. I got the impression the leader wanted me on the rack. He eyed the cum that covered me. His gaze lingering between my thighs. I crossed my knees trying to at least hide that, which seemed to amuse them both.

Finally, the leader pinched the bridge of his nose, and waved a hand through the air.

Matter solved.

The monster looked proud, almost preening, as he paraded me back, shouting out gibberish words and earning cheers from the rest of the kilted pigs.

He looked at me. "Garaneeya min loshta. Spayada."

"No spayada," I insisted and for some reason they all laughed.

He strapped me into a seat beside him, checking carefully that all was well, and settled in beside me as the other men buckled in too. Then, through the glass, I watched as my college became a dot, and then the earth became a dot, and then it was gone, and I was swallowed up with blackness.

I think I must have gone numb.

Because all I could think was, how will I get back to earth again? I can't fly a spaceship.