Unnatural Instinct: Abduction

2.

You look like just another body, and I think nothing of you as the drone pushes you into my room. The first thing I notice is that you're female. I can tell because those big mammary glands of yours press hard against your top. You're a strange species. Of all the life forms I've experimented on, none have such large sexual organs like you do. It's a sign of slow evolution; a sign of a feeble brain failing against the instincts of a primitive body.

I won't lie—I feel contempt. I can't help that and I'm not sorry about it. I'm a scientist, after all. But I do appreciate you. You're a fine specimen to work on. Discovering more about your robust reproductive system will help my own species and many others who are slow procreators.

The drone pushes your trolley into position. The green light of the levitator does a quick scan, blinks, then flashes brightly as it attaches onto the tiniest of your molecules. Slowly, you rise from the trolley. It is the same as what beamed you into my ship. Old but reliable technology.

I study you briefly as you hover in the air, taking note of your bone structure and musculature. You're young and strong. That's good. My scans of your planet revealed that you're on the brink of ovulating. That's even better—I'll need your eggs, along with anything else that I deem worthwhile.

Slowly, you drift towards my workbench, the final of my three. My two other subjects are lying unconscious on their own benches on either side of you. To your right is species 505 from the seas of the planet Dorm. From it I'll learn all I can about appendage regeneration. To your left is species 636 from the outer moon of the planet Quinox. From it I'll learn how to withstand extreme atmospheric pressure. You, species 821 from the planet Earth, I'll learn everything I need to know about fertility and rapid reproduction.

Everything I need to know to advance my own species.

A good set. I'm going to be busy. You might as well get comfortable; you're going to be here a long time.

First, I have my drones cut away your clothes. I watch as your body is slowly revealed to me. I feel nothing. You're just an animal, after all. Useful and only important enough to study. I see the bony prominences of your clavicles and the muscles in your shoulders. You're relatively fit but not thin. A healthy specimen. I see the wobble of your mammary glands as they continue with their cutting, their long fingers carefully peeling back your top. Your nipples are pink and soft. It's warm inside my lab. I like to keep my specimens comfortable while I work so your nipples won't harden until I touch you. It's one of the many interesting things I've come to know about your species. My kind have no nipples.

Ribs. Abdomen. Belly button—again, an interesting feature. Our young are grown in tubes. The last of your top is pulled away and next they start on your bottoms. They're small and don't look like they fit. Why you're even wearing them, I don't understand.

'Be careful,' I say to them as they cut along your inner thighs. I can't have you damaged, particularly in such a critical area. Soon, your clothes are gone and I can see your mass of hair. It remains a mystery as to the function of hair down there. Is it meant to keep you clean? To keep out the dirt and dust? Is it considered an attractive feature to the opposite sex?

Curious.

Your thighs are long and hard looking. I see moles and freckles and what looks like a scar on your left knee. Folding my hands behind my back, I keep well away as my drones pull down the hoses from the ceiling and pump my sterilising chemicals onto you. Soon, you'll be clean enough to approach. I can't risk being infected by any alien bug or stray spore that might be dangerous. My drones are immune to most diseases. I am not.

When the time is right, I'll study that too, but not yet. I already have enough to do.

Once you're safely sterilised, I don my face shield and gloves. My instruments are ready to go, lying on a bench beside you, but first I study you with my eyes and ears. I listen to your breathing. I feel the heat of your core temperature. Research is always about starting simple, even when as advanced as we are. I touch your arm, then gently grab it. You're warm and your skin is soft and smooth. Your muscle is hard. I can feel most things through my gloves, designed for protection without losing tactility.

You don't move, your eyes closed.

I look down the length of you, moving along the bench as I do. Your hips poke out. I grab your left one, feeling the hardness of your bone. Your hips are unusually wide, but I can see you are yet to bear children; the skin of your pelvis is smooth and unwrinkled. I touch you there, massaging you gently.

You're soft but not fatty and I know from my brief look at you that you're likely very fertile. Good. My drones worked hard on discovering you.

Your hands lie limp beside your hips. They're small and weak compared with the male of your species and compared with mine but I can't help but admire them. Your personal hygiene is satisfactory, your fingernails clean. They shine against the light in the room.

Next, I want to look at your vagina. I direct my two drones to place your feet in the stirrups. You don't move, and you won't; my gas keeps you immobilised. It's the same gas I pumped into your habitat back on your home planet.

Now you're revealed to me. The drones lash straps around your legs so they remain wide open. I can't see inside you—I'll have to open you up properly later—but I take my time studying the pink wrinkled skin of your labia. You look soft. A wet, white substance makes you glisten.

'Hmm,' I grunt.

I walk up and down your body, taking note of every little detail important enough to write in my log later. Though you're alien to me, I can't help but admire you.

Turning to my bench of tools, I pick up my first instrument.