Unnatural Instinct: Abduction

10.

I watch you from the corner of my eye, trying to figure out what you might be thinking as you stare at the little blue ball that is your planet.

You show nothing but surprise. Slowly, you move closer to the window, dragging the sheet behind you. You make sure that it covers your front and rear-end but I can see your back and it looks smooth and flawless beneath the soft lights of my room.

'How ... how ...'

'This is a research vessel, used to study other species like yours.'

You don't say anything, you don't do anything, but stare. Finally, you turn to look at me with those accusing eyes of yours.

Clearing my throat, I walk to the wall beside my bed. A door slides open. Reaching inside my closet, I pull out one of my suits.

'It's designed to shape to one's body. It'll still be a little big on you but it should be comfortable.' I hand it over to you and show you the entrance to my waste disposal unit. 'Do you want me to show you how to use it?'

'I'll be fine,' you say, clutching the suit to your chest. The door shuts behind you. I sit on the edge of my bed, listening to you struggle.

When you finally exit, you're wearing my suit. It's blue like the one I'm wearing. The ends have cinched to your wrists and ankles in folds. Even despite our size difference, it clings to the rest of your body like it does mine. It's almost just as revealing as seeing you naked.

As I stare at you, your cheeks flush.

What am I going to do with you for the next two weeks? I can have you fed and watered and showered. You can have your own room. But if you're anything like the rest of your species, you're going to need more. Something to focus your mind. Companionship. Especially on a ship full of mindless drones.

I take you to the communal eating room, and as I do you walk close by my side. Despite what I've done to you, you have less fear of me than you do my drones. It's hard to understand why; they will only hurt you at my say-so. I tell you this, but it does nothing to make you think rationally.

You truly are a strange species; controlled by your primitive instincts, more than your brain. Still, I don't mind.

I don't want you to be afraid of me.

I have the drones desert the room so you can eat without fear. You hesitate as you dig your spoon into some Clevon Soup. It makes me smile. I explain what it is: salted gutroot from the oceans of my home world. You look at me with a puzzled expression, then take a mouthful. At first, your forehead is rumpled with uncertainty but it quickly clears and you begin shovelling it into your mouth.

I relax back into my seat. While you eat, you start asking me questions.

'Do you have a name?' you ask me.

I speak it but I can see that it goes right over your head. I'm not surprised; my language is much different to yours. We speak our words more from the back of our throats than from our tongues. I try to explain where I come from but, again, the name of my planet alludes you.

'I'm from the same galaxy but seven solar systems over,' I say.

You swallow hard on your soup. 'How many ... how many aliens are there?'

I raise an eyebrow at such a childish question. 'Countless.' Your eyes widen. 'There are at least thousands of species that know interstellar travel and millions more that don't. You are one of those.'

'And you come to my planet often?'

I explain my purpose as a galactic scientist but I do not speak in detail; there is only so much I'm willing for you to know. You look at me in awe, holding your spoon in the air. I see how it trembles.

'Don't you feel bad about what you do?' you ask me.

'Why should I? It must be done for the greater good. I cause no permanent damage. And I send you back without you being the wiser. It's better than what is rumoured you do to your animals.'

'I am not an animal,' you say, pursing your lips.

'No, you're not,' I agree.

An uncomfortable silence descends between us. You don't meet my eyes again, hunched over your dish as you finish your meal.

After you're done, I take you to your quarters. The drones who had once occupied the room have left to space themselves out between the rooms of the rest of their associates. I don't tell you this, of course, because I know it'll horrify you.

The room is only small and bare but it's comfortable. In place of their bunks, a single bed has been erected. You have your own kitchen and steam bath and waste disposal unit. Like my room, a large window looks out onto space. Again, you stare at it, your eyes zeroing in on that little blue ball.

'You can keep to yourself here,' I say. 'There's no need to leave, though you can explore some of the ship if you want to. But I daresay you won't. The room is self-sufficient. I'll have your food delivered at meal times. There'll be no need to see me or my drones. I'll get you back home as soon as I can.'

Without another word, I turn and leave your room.

I have to get out of there, to get away from you. I have to get back to my quarters fast. I wipe the back of my hand across my face. I feel hot. My suit feels unbearably tight. Have you infected me with something?

By the time I reach my quarters, I'm shivering. Hastily, I begin to peel off my suit, prepared to step into the steam shower, when I pause. Something's not right. Something's really not right.

Carefully, I pull the suit down over my hips and look down at myself in horror. Between my legs, my penis has grown at least four-fold. It's hard and long. Erect. The skin at the tip has pulled back, revealing the shining layer of skin beneath. I've never seen it do such a thing before. Few of my species have. Our male appendage is only useful for urination. Nothing more. It hasn't been useful for breeding for at least four hundred years.

Warily I touch it, then pull my hand back. It doesn't feel like mine at all. Not knowing what else to do, I switch on the steam, quickly wrestle the rest of the suit off and climb in. I stand under the steam with my hands braced up against the wall for a long time, letting the heat ease my shivering and clear my mind.

It seems to be working. I don't want to look but I must. Slowly, my penis begins to lower and shrink, until it hangs limp between my legs like it's supposed to. I feel better. I feel normal, except for the fear creeping into the nerves at the back of my neck.

I turn off the shower and stare at myself in the mirror. I don't look sick, just pale with fright. I touch myself again, checking carefully. Nothing seems amiss. My testicles are soft and warm—no masses or evidence of strangulation. The skin of my penis is loose and wrinkled again. I check everywhere just to be sure there are no rashes or bumps or evidence of a parasite that might have imbedded inside me.

All clear. Taking a breath, I leave the shower. I glance at my suit crumpled on the floor. I should change into something. I need to fill in my log for the night. But I'm suddenly very tired. All I want to do is curl up in bed.

I slide between my sheets, naked. I touch myself briefly between the legs to reassure myself. All remains well. Still, I intend to keep a close eye on myself throughout the night.

Puzzled and concerned, I gaze vacantly at a plant in the corner of my room for a long time, my mind a swirl of thoughts and fears, before I finally fall asleep.