The Pink Ladies

W receives an email from a long time friend telling the story of alien abduction and much, much more.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.

If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2018 by The Technician.

Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

* * * * * * * * * * * *

What would you do if a childhood friend sent you a long, rambling email about kinky sex with aliens? That's what recently happened to me. The only reason I can think of that he would do so is that he knows I've seen a lot of weird shit and written about even more really strange stuff so I would probably believe him. Also, he knows how many stories I post and I am pretty sure he expected me to publish his email on some of my story sites. In fact, he even gave me the name to use for the story.

He says it's true– hell, it might be, but I can't ask him for further proof. No one has seen him since about a week before I got this email from him and the reply address comes up as invalid. I tried to back trace the IP and it also comes up as invalid. Despite not being able to verify anything, I decided to publish it exactly as he wrote it and let you decide for yourself. Maybe it will stir some deep, forgotten memory of gray beings with big black eyes... and the feeling that you had some really fantastic sex somewhere but you can't remember where.

The email reads as follows:

W, I am sending this to you because you will believe me. No one else believes me. They say I am imagining all this or that I am having some sort of strange seizures. I can understand why they would say that. I do have seizures– or I used to. Whenever I have to fill out a medical form and it asks, "Have you ever been knocked unconscious?" I answer "Yes." Then where it says, "Provide specific details" I say, "See attached page."

We grew up together, W. You know that I was always the one who fell out of the tree or off the cliff or got hit by a car or conked in the head with a line drive or was still lying on the grass when the rest of the team went back to the huddle. I guess the straw that broke the camel's back– or more accurately the bug that put that final piece of scar tissue in my gray matter– was when I got knocked unconscious by a cicada while riding my motorcycle about five year ago. Even you had trouble believing that one until I showed you my helmet with a hole in the front of it. I hit that sucker at somewhere well north of ninety miles an hour and he went all the way through the shell and padding and put a big bull's eye bruise right in the middle of my forehead. It was a miracle I got into the median and slowed down enough to not hurt myself seriously when I tumbled off the the back of bike. I had a hell of a headache for a few days but that was all. I thought everything was OK after that. Then the seizures started.

Luckily, by then, they had developed a pacemaker for the brain. At least that's how my doctor described it. They put some kind of tiny computer in my head with a network of wires connected to my brain. Whenever it senses that a seizure is about to begin, it zaps the correct area of scar tissue to stop it. But that anti-seizure pacemaker does more than that, W. It stops an alien memory wipe.

I know that sounds like I've stepped off the deep end and went straight to the bottom, but listen to me. These alien abductions are real– at least mine was. They scooped up six of us– three men and three women. I was just getting ready to go to sleep when all of a sudden I was in this huge place with five other naked people and a bunch of grey things.

One of the little gray people walked up to us and said, "Please don't be afraid. We are not going to harm you."

I noticed right away that his lips weren't moving. That was real easy to tell because he didn't have any lips. Actually he didn't have a mouth or a nose either... just big black eyes on a long, gray face. He was naked, so I could see that he didn't have anything between his legs either, but for some reason I still thought of him as "him."

"You may call me Robert 1739," he said into our minds, " or just Nine."

"This is a colony ship," he began to explain. Somehow his voice, or whatever it was in my mind, sounded sad as he added, "... a failed colony ship."

He walked around us so we had to keep turning to watch him as he kept talking. "Many centuries ago, we left the home planet. Many ships had left before us, but we were the last to leave before the catastrophe struck. We were almost not in time. A massive energy wave from an exploding sun in a nearby solar system was destroying our planet even while we were lifting off. We thought we had protected ourselves by keeping the planet between us and the source of the explosion– and for the most part that was true. But there was a great cloud of gamma radiation which accompanied the blast. And that went through the planet... and through us... like... like... like gamma rays through anything."

He pointed to a vast area that looked like a warehouse filled with tall metal tubes and said, "The intended colonists survived because they were in specially-shielded stasis chambers, but they did not escape without damage. There were DNA changes and all of them are effectively sterile. The original crew got the ship out of harm's way and started a pre-arranged emergency awakening of a secondary crew before succumbing to radiation sickness."

He gestured to the other gray beings which surrounded us and then said slowly, "That was us... the original copies of us. We are now a clone crew.

"It has been many centuries since we left the home world. We have each gone through many, many generations of cloning as we traveled through space searching for a new home planet. But each copy contains slight errors. Some new clones do not survive. Others actually become more suited to life in space. In effect, we have evolved into what you see before you now."

"So what do you want with us?!!" one of the other men shouted.

"There is a planet that meets our needs in a nearby solar system," he said firmly. "It is like our home planet, only bigger, just as your planet is like ours, only smaller."

He leaned in close to me and said, "We need you to mate with our colonists."

"Excuse me," I said, "but you said they are sterile."

"They are... in a way," he answered. "Some are truly sterile," he said softly. Then he added even more softly, "Some are dead in their stasis tubes." He paused and acted like he was taking a deep breath, though where he might be breathing was hidden from me. Then he continued very firmly, "The others– the last hope for our colony– have lost the ability to properly respond sexually, and that makes them effectively sterile."

He evidently could see that we were confused because he explained, "Our species needs to be almost at orgasm in order to reproduce and it takes a great deal to get one of our females to the brink of orgasm. More than that, the sperm must be pumped into her egg receptor just at the right moment or there will be no fertilization."

"Sort of like cats," one of the women said, "they can't get pregnant unless the female pops off. That's why they caterwaul so much and go at it for so long."

"Being compared a lower earth being is somewhat distasteful," the gray crewman replied, "but what you have said is basically accurate. Our males can no longer keep going long enough to cause the female to release an egg and there is no way we can do as you humans have done and fertilize the egg outside the egg receptor. It is hoped that by introducing new genes into our genetic mix, our sexual dysfunction can be repaired."

"Why us?" one of the females asked. "Why do you need women? Are you going to keep us captive as slaves or something?" There was obvious fear in her voice.

"No," he replied, "once you are impregnated, the embryo will be transferred to one of our truly sterile females. Then you will be returned to your homes unharmed."

His voice changed and became almost soothing as he added, "Do not fear. You will remember none of this."

He motioned for us to follow him and ushered us into a smaller room with six beds. "We will begin with the women," he said, pointing to the three ladies. "Our experience is that watching others mate helps a Terran male become more aroused, but can often have the opposite effect on Earth females."

Two of the women were ushered out of the room. Then three men entered the room through the same doorway. They looked almost normal and might be able to walk unnoticed on Earth– if it were night and they wore a hoodie and kept it closed around their faces. They were the right size and proportions, but their coloring was off. They looked as if they had recently been out in the sun way too long. Their pinkish-red faces were almost the same size and shape as ours, but they had these huge eyes and strangely-shaped ears. The woman still in the room cowered slightly before them. She screamed out, "Daemons! Daemons! Daemons!"

One of the gray clones held up what looked like an oversized pistol and pointed it at her. There was a dull humming and the she collapsed onto the bed furthest from me. "We regret that we have had to use force," Nine said, "but we have found that sometimes it is best for the female subject to be unconscious at first."

One of the pink men carefully arranged the woman face down on the bed, then he squirted a small amount of lubricant onto her body. He slowly massaged the unconscious woman, only occasionally passing near or over sexual areas such as the sides of her breasts or between her asscheeks. He didn't seem to be in any hurry as he slowly kneaded back, neck, and leg muscles. It was the kind of massage that would cost big bucks at an expensive resort. The woman, though still asleep, was now obviously very, very relaxed.

There was a loud beep and the pink man stepped back slightly from the bed. The woman floated up about three feet and rotated in the air so she was face up. Then she very gently floated back down onto the bed.

The man returned to the side of the bed and applied more lubricant to his hands and to the women's skin. Now the massage was more definitely sensual. There was less kneading and more sliding, twisting, and tweaking. The woman was now starting to moan and squirm as the man's hand began to spend more and more time on her nipples and her slit. She was now obviously awake and brought her hands up to her own breasts and was squeezing and pulling on her own nipples while the standing man attacked her clit.

It wasn't until she was bucking upward with her body that the man climbed up onto the bed. His prick had seemed very small as he stood beside the bed, but once he was between the woman's legs, his prick unsheathed to impressive proportions.

As the pink man dribbled more oil into the women's slits, our gray host explained, "He will begin very slowly, and will attempt to be gentle."

The pink man slowly began thrusting into the semi-conscious women. After a few minutes she was starting to strongly thrust back. A few minutes later, her moans and cries became louder and louder and louder as the man continued to pump within her. She climaxed at least twice and yet the man continued to thrust.

"No more. No more," she called out, but then went back to a shrill moaning cry as another orgasm tore through her body. She was reduced to a whimpering, quivering, sweaty mess, and still the man continued pumping.

The air next to the bed shimmered slightly and Nine explained, "We have activated a containment shield to separate them from us to prevent... I mean... for security reasons."

A pink lady stepped into the room and stood near the head of the bed. If you ignored the ears and the strange eyes and the almost glowing pinkish-red skin, she was OK– meaning she looked close to human and had breasts and a slit between her legs that my prick would probably go in. That was better than some of the women I've picked up at the bar just before closing time... don't ask.

She stood there for a moment rubbing herself between her legs. Then she brought her hand up next to her mouth and blew the pink man a kiss– at least that's what it looked like to me. He suddenly gave a loud groan and rammed himself into the Earthwoman one last time. Then he lay upon the women gasping for breath.

"As you can see," the Nine said, "he barely has the stamina to satisfy an Earthwoman."

I almost screamed when he said that. One of these males had just pounded an Earthwoman well past literally fucking her brains out and Nine said they were weak. How in the hell was he expecting me to do better than that?

The shield– or whatever it was– shimmered again and turned the same dull brown color as the walls, hiding the pink man, Earthwoman, and pink lady. Nine turned to the next Earthwoman and said, "You are next."

I hadn't realized the women had been brought back into the room. They had evidently been given a choice to see what happened to the third woman and decided to watch.

Nine held up the strange weapon, but the woman quickly responded, "You don't have to knock me out. I'll do this willingly." She was shaking slightly. I wasn't sure if that was in fear or in anticipation of the fucking of her life.

She walked over to the bed and lay down on her stomach. A pink man came in and began giving her a slow massage. She started sighing and moaning almost as soon as his hands touched her flesh. When his hands finally started straying between her asscheeks, she pushed back against him hard and said hoarsely, "Do it from behind. I've always dreamed of finding a man long enough to get all the way into my cunt from behind."

There was an odd sound in my head like a low-pitched doorbell that somehow I knew was an OK for the pink man to do as she asked. He got onto the bed and began to slowly ease himself into her. She raised up slightly so he would align better with her cunt, but otherwise remained flat on the bed. As he was sliding into her, she brought her hands under herself and began rubbing her clit. The pink man brought his hands up and began kneading the woman's tits. He pulled on her nipples a couple of times and then began pumping in and out of her cunt.

Again, he was like a machine. And again, he kept pumping well after the woman had lost almost all control of her body and mind. A shield wall appeared. Then another pink lady entered and stood at the top of the bed. She did the same rub herself and blow a kiss like the other pink lady had done and the pink man immediately shuddered and fell across the top of the almost unconscious Earthwoman.

"I wish you didn't have to see this," Nine said. "We have stopped at several planets hoping to find men who could last long enough to impregnate one of our females directly, but..."

I let out a little sigh of relief. They weren't really expecting me to be able to do better than these pink men.

The shield wall turned the same dull brown color as the rest of the walls and now there were only four beds in the room.

"I don't think you are going to be able to work your magic on me," the third Earthwoman said. "I'm a little... ... different."

"We know," Nine said, turning to look at her. "You do not have normal sexual responses, or perhaps I should say that you do not have the same sexual responses as the majority of earthwomen."

As he pointed to the bed, a pink man came in carrying a small stool. He set it next to the bed and sat on it.

"A soft and soothing massage does not excite you," Nine said, "but pain does. Specifically, a long, hand spanking can excite you to the point of orgasm... and beyond. Then you are ready for sex."

The woman stepped forward somewhat hesitantly and draped herself over the lap of the pink man. He rubbed her asscheeks for a few moments and then began to softly spank. He didn't seem to strike twice in the same spot, but kept moving his point of impact slightly so that soon her ass was starting to take on the same glow and coloring as his skin.

I could tell from the sound that the strokes were starting to get stronger. The Earthwoman's yelps and grunts were also getting louder. The pink man seemed to be in no hurry and continued to slap at a regular pace. The Earthwoman, however, was becoming more and more frantic.

Finally, with a loud groan, she pulled herself off the pink man's lap and stood up facing him. Then she stepped forward so that she was straddling him and lowered herself down on his over-sized prick.

She slammed herself down and pushed him inside herself with one thrust. Then she began bouncing up and down on his prick. Now the soft slaps which filled the room were from her asscheeks slamming against his thighs. He held her back softly to hold her in place, but otherwise did not move.

Now it was the Earthwoman, herself, who was driving herself past the point of rational thought. She was fucking her own brains out while the pink man remained rather passively looking at her.

The shield shimmered into place and a pink lady came out. She rubbed herself and blew a kiss to the pink man and he groaned and obviously erupted into the now screaming Earthwoman. They both then shuddered and clung to each other to keep from toppling off the stool.

After the shield had turned into its regular wall brown, another pink lady stepped out and lay face down on the bed. A pink man also entered and stood near the bed.

Nine pointed to one of the earth men and then to the bed. I have no idea who he was or where he was from, but he was huge... as in duck-to-get-under-a-doorway huge. And he was as wide as he was tall. With his jet black hair and curly black beard, he looked like he had just come from winning a Paul Bunyan look-alike contest. He was pretty big in the sex department, too.

"We will bring the shield wall down immediately," Nine said, "for obvious reasons."

I had no idea what the obvious reasons were, but stood there watching as Paul Bunyan, Junior began pouring some of the oily liquid on the pink lady's back. Since we had just watched the pink guys massage the Earth women in this position, we had figured out it was probably their expected form of foreplay.

In a little while she was moaning softly and starting to squirm on the bed. Paul squirted some of the oil stuff on the crack in her as cheeks and slid his hands down between her legs. That really got her started. She was humping back on his hand a little bit and starting to raise herself up off the bed on her hands. Paul responded by pushing his hands deep between her legs, obviously now playing with her cunt.

He was still trying to work real slowly like the pink men had done but all of a sudden he looked around the room all confused and began spurting into the air. The pink man also began spurting. Between the two of them, the pink lady's back was pretty well covered in cum.