Bambi's Alien Abduction

by Aubrey Cara

  “And they are the property of the Zapex. Just as you are now mine.”

  Acid burns in my chest, and tears prick my eyes. I ignore the last bit and hone in on the first. “Well, go get them.” I gesture to all his weapons he’s carrying. “What kind of warrior are you that you can’t fight for your property?” I choke on the word property, but it’s what we are here. I figure speaking to his understanding might help my cause.

  The big oaf shrugs. Freaking shrugs. His expression is a hard mask. “To take them would break the Galactic Unity Treaty and start a war. I’m sorry for the loss of the females.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all. “But I see no reason to break honor for two humans.”

  Of course not. It’s apparent we’re the bottom of the food chain here.

  My lip quivers. The sniffle I’ve been trying to hold back breaks free, along with the tears I knew were coming. I want to wake up and have this all be a bad dream brought on by too much gluten, cheese, and red wine.

  Bri and Brook are like sisters to me. Now they’re God knows where, having God knows what done to them, and I’m not there.

  “I’m here with a misogynistic, racist, slave-buying dickbag,” I mutter to myself.

  “I’m not a rassist or a deehickbag.” He stumbles over the English terms, overhearing me.

  “But you think it’s okay to own me? As your property?”

  “You are fortunate, as will be any Earther female chosen to host offspring by my men in the future.”

  My mind spins. I’m not feeling fortunate. Space is out the window, and I still have a collar around my neck. I start clawing at it, sobbing. It’s all too much. Brook was the strong one, and Bri the one who always kept a calm, clear head under pressure. I’m the happy one.

  “I’m the happy one, dammit,” I sob.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Elder’s Wisdom

  Do not fight the will of the ancestors.

  It is a fruitless endeavor, full of needless strife.

  OATHAR

  My patience with humoring the little being who will host my young is wearing thin. I should take her to mate while she’s ovulating, but the female is leaking profusely and babbling nonsense.

  “What is happening?” I’ve been briefed on the human females, but nothing has prepared me for this. I knew they’d be different from our Gyhan females, but these creatures are a complete anomaly.

  Unnerved by the female’s state, my intelligence officer and foreign liaison, Niin studies his handheld, clicking furiously. “I believe this is a human condition most commonly known as hizz-star-eeks.” He glances up and says, “May be caused by stress, upheaval, excess of emotion, or mental illness.”

  Brain disease is a nasty thing. She did not seem mentally deficient, but who is to say. “I order you to desist,” I command the female, causing her to wail and leak from her nasal cavities as well.

  “It says you must try to soothe it with gentle words and…an embrace?”

  I shake my head. That makes no sense. “Am I to sexually service it?” My root lengthens, keen on the notion. It would help things along—

  “I’m not an it!” she screams, the sound echoing in the close confines of the control room.

  Her internal energy increases as her face flushes bright with her rage. “I’m Bambi Anita Rodriguez. I have a name and a home and friends. I’m not your property or your pet and sure as hell am not hosting your anything!” Snatching the handheld from Niin’s hands, she throws it against the wall hard enough for it to crack. “You can shove your Earther instruction manual up your ass!”

  She’s a snarling beast.

  A little warrior.

  She is soft, but she is mighty.

  My root presses against my pants at her aggressive display. I want to implant my eggs inside her, badly. I chose her over the two others because of her exotic appearance and shapely physique, but I’m glad to see she is not as weak as they say most humans are.

  “She broke my communicator.” Niin’s tone is half disbelief, half unbecoming whine.

  “Oh, poor baby, won’t be able to Google how to sooth the Earther.” The leaking female, Bohambee makes a face at Niin, and I step between the two.

  “What’s an oooghl?” asks Jhyr, who has been quiet until that moment.

  “A rudimentary human database,” Niin snickers. “Ours is far more advanced.”

  “Ours is far more advanced,” the female mimics in her own language, her face contorted. “Well don’t you just win the bronzed pile of dog doo?”

  We all stare at her, perplexed. The translation for some of her words is lost, but it’s clearly an insult. The female needs to accept her new circumstance. And she must learn to respect me and my men in all things. As Yon Tor, my first instinct is to punish her for her outburst. Such behavior will not be tolerated. But I would also prefer the female to be receptive, if not willing in her breeding. I do not want my eggs to be under undue stress during their gestation.

  I turn to Niin and Jhyr. “Will you please leave us?”

  “Do you think that is wise?” Niin glances suspiciously at the female.

  For such an intelligent Alogorian, he’s being very irrational. And disrespectful. One female going into hizz-star-eeks is no cause to be impertinent. “You are dismissed.” It’s a firm directive, my tone leaving no doubt to my pique.

  My officers bow as is customary. Niin has the sense to bend extra deep, but foolishly gives the Earther one last baleful look before leaving.

  Once the door to the cabin snicks closed I hold out my hand for Bohambee. “Come.”

  Wiping her optical secretions off on her arm, she tentatively takes my hand. It makes me smile, but she gasps. “Your teeth.”

  Ah, yes. Humans know nothing of other cultures. The Earther’s ignorance is jarring. I’m from a solar system that has had access to space travel for nearly a thousand years. I’ve personally encountered hundreds of other species, and try to fathom what all this must be like for the little human. It’s baffling to think they believed the creatures of their planet were the only being in the universe.

  “Yes, my teeth are different from yours.” Taking her hand, I run her fingers along my teeth so she can feel. While they’re sharp they’re much like her own, only serrated and textured. She squeals and tries to yank her hand away, but once she realizes I’m not trying to eat her or something equally ridiculous, her curiosity gets the better of her.

  She runs her strange little fingers over my face, my ridges, and I bend down and let her explore. This is much better than the hizz-star-eeks. The wide-eyed look of wonder on her face makes me realize I’m somewhat jaded. As the Yon Tor, I’ve had much off world travel, and being surrounded by a diverse set of species has become mundane.

  Earth itself was discovered five hundred years ago. The Zapex revealed and claimed it for their own and are the ones who have been studying the species. I have to admit I’ve not been that interested in them, until the Zapex Prince, Kaihan, offered to test their breeding compatibilities with us.

  The Zapex knew we frowned upon their plans for the humans, so they sought ways to appease us. Earthers are known to be prolific beings. Their population has quadrupled in the last thousand years. Humans are going to overpopulate their planet if they keep going.

  I’d never seen a human in person, outside of the Monrok, but the Zapex alter them from birth, so they don’t really count. This female is nothing like a Monrok. She is small and delicate. Her skin, the color of mu’iuk nectar, is smooth and soft. Her face a gentle curve. The thick spirals of fur on her head are the same color as the sun-kissed sand of Alogoria. And unlike images of other Earthers of her coloring, her eyes are so dark they’re nearly black.

  Some think humans freakish and weak looking. I find this one oddly appealing.

  Sitting, I pull her lush form onto my lap, but she tries to scoot off.

  “No, you sit here.” I enjoy the feel and scent of her. She smells intoxicating. The Gyhan females we breed with smell lovely wh
en their mating time is near, but Bohambee’s scent and taste call my mating instinct like nothing else.

  I wonder if Niin and Jhyr can scent it in the air, and if they are as affected as I. The thought that they might irritates me in an odd, irrational way. We’re not a monogamous race nor territorial of females. We only mate long enough to breed. Yet, I want her scent to belong to me, and me alone.

  She’s sitting stiffly on my lap, her arms crossed over her ample bosom, so I pet her gently, waiting for her to relax.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” she asks in a small voice. “To all Earthers?”

  “Earth’s fate lies in the hands of the Zapex. My people just want some females for a time.” She likely views my opportunistic outlook as cruel, but I pity the Earthers their fate. The Zapex plans for them far outreach my own. Those I can save even for a short while, I will.

  “But why must we all kowtow to the Zeepacks?”

  “Zaaay-pexx,” I sound out slowly. “They found Earth first, yours is not an advanced culture, and it’s not in our galaxy, so they can claim it.”

  “That’s awful.”

  I shrug. They’re not the first race to be enslaved. “At least with me on Lehor you’ll experience some freedom.” I lift her face until her gaze meets mine, and steel my tone. “But you’re going to have listen to me and show deference to me and my men. I am not fully informed on the ways of Earth, but on my planet you will be punished for insubordination and disrespect.”

  A shiver runs through her, and she glances away. Her thermal energy shows on her face in that strange way I’m beginning to believe is regular human occurrence, but the temperature of her body pressed against mine doesn’t seem to have altered.

  “Why do the Alogorians need women?” she asks, changing the subject. “What happened to your women?” Her plaintive tone reminds me of my son when he was a ling and wasn’t allowed to go to important off-world meetings with me. It has the same effect of making me want to be indulgent and patient with her.

  “We have three species on our small planet of Lehor,” I explain. “The main species has always been the Alogorians, who live in the desert and plains of Alogoria, which span most of our planet. We have water-dwelling brethren, the Angarians, who live only in the seas of Angaria. And the female race is the Gyhan. They live mostly in the rainforests of Gyhania, but can live wherever they choose.

  “The Gyhan have shared their wombs with the Alogorians and Angarians since the beginning of time, but they only ovulate every fifteen years. But since Alogorians and Angarians trade off mating cycles, we each only breed every thirty years.” With more and more of our Alogorians and Gyhans choosing to live and work off-planet, our numbers are dwindling. How could we refuse the Zapex offer for compatible breeders when our race is dying out? Humans offer us the opportunity to strengthen our numbers.”

  “That sounds so cold. How do the Guy-hauns feels about all this?”

  I smile at the way she sounds out Gyhan, then pull my lips in a straight line, unsure why she elicits such strange reactions from me. “The Gyhans are what your people call parthenogenesis capable.” At her confused expression, I explain. “They can reproduce asexually…by themselves. They also have the ability to live on land or in water. They don’t need us Alogorians or Angarians at all. It’s actually the other way around.”

  “Whoa.” Her eyes are huge as she processes that. “What about love? Do you ever fall in love?” My confusion must show because she shakes her head and mutters, “Of course, your rent-a-chick culture doesn’t do love.”

  “Rhant-a-sheek?” As chieftain, I was implanted with a translator when I was still a ling, but many of her words don’t translate properly.

  “Rent-a-chick. As in, you guys rent a female to have your young, then send her on her merry way…Oathar?”

  “Hmm?”

  “If you don’t mate, as in take a life mate…what do you plan to do with me, or any Earther, once you’re done procreating?”

  I stare, not wanting to lie but sensing the truth isn’t something she will derive comfort from. I am Yon Tor. Usually, I explain myself to no one, and I don’t answer her now.

  “Oh, my God, you’re going to sell me back to the Zapex once you’re done with me, aren’t you?”

  She’s a perceptive little thing. I look away, but not before she senses my chagrin. If she were a healthy host, I was going to hand her off to one of my men to breed, but I already find the thought of giving her away distasteful in a way that is unfamiliar to me.

  Her strange features harden. The internal energy rises in her face again as she scowls at me. She’s a warrior. “So, I’m just here to host your young? What does that mean?”

  I inwardly sigh, my patience wearing thin. Commissioning humans for breeding may have been a mistake. There is just so much they do not understand, and I am not so cruel as to force myself on her. “My eggs. You’ll carry my eggs.”

  “Okay, so I’m supposed host your eggs in some alien-uterus exchange program?” Her voice rises with every word. “I’ll live with you for the years it takes for you to have multiple offspring, and then be sold again? Why don’t you find some other incubator and make little lab lizards, or whatever the hell you are?”

  I grit my teeth in my growing frustration. “It’s not that simple. Your eggs have been proven to fertilize our eggs, but we need a healthy receptive host to carry our eggs to term.”

  She gasps. “My egg is fertilizing your egg…so the kid that comes out will be half my baby? You expect me to just give up my baby?” She tries to scramble off my lap, pushing and hitting at me, but I easily hold her tight and remind myself to be patient.

  “The amount of DNA you’d contribute is insignificant—”

  She gasps, turning to face me. “And that’s supposed to make me feel better? You might as well return me to the Zapex now. I’m not hosting your young.” She struggles to get away from me, and I give her a little shake.

  “You will give up more than your ling if I return you to the Zapex.” Her dramatics are wearing on my patience. How is she not understanding this is a simple thing I ask? She’ll be much better off with me. With the Zapex, she and her young will well and truly be enslaved in a way she will not care to experience. “Even if I were willing to sell you back, which I’m not, it would take weeks upon weeks of traveling to get to the Zapex world of Jar`jun. This is your life now, Bohambee. The sooner you accept it, the better.”

  “It’s Bambi, Ba-am-bee. And I’ll never accept it,” she says through clenched teeth. “I’m going to get away from you. I’m going to find my friends. And I’m going back to Earth. I will never carry your young.” Eyes blazing with conviction and indignation, she is such a proud warrior.

  And stubborn. Stubborn as a spitting jahnka.

  I sigh. She’s too distraught to get through to. Pulling an injector out of my pocket I press it to her neck and quickly decompress the end. The effect of the sleeping agent the Zapex gave me while on the moon colony of Neo is instantaneous. She starts drowsing right away, slumping against me.

  In a singsong voice, barely above a whisper, she says, “I’m never, ever, ever, going to have your baby.”

  “You don’t have a choice, little warrior.”

  Cradling her in my arms like a newborn ling, I make my way to the panel in the wall. It swooshes open at my approach, and I nearly run into Niin and Jhyr on the other side. Abashed, they move out of my way. Ignoring them, I walk past to my small cabin. We didn’t travel in a grand ship, but it’s large enough to accommodate three small rooms, a common space, and the control room.

  With the press of a button, the sleeping surface folds down from the wall, and I set her down then turn on the warming features. When at home, we sleep on heat regulating surfaces that can also cool because we’re surrounded by the heat of the desert, but when traveling, we need a warmer surface to regulate our body temperature.

  Her ample breasts rise and fall with her breathing. I cup each in my hands, experiment
ally. They’re so soft. I have the strangest urge to poke them and watch them wobble. No Gyhan has breasts this plentiful. But no Gyhan has to feed her young the way humans do.

  There is a chance, though slight, my ling will have to feed off these orbs. The thought is not altogether distasteful. In fact, the image of my ling suckling at her breast is strangely appealing.

  Watching Bombee, I wonder if I should implant her while she’s at rest. It would simplify the matter, but that seems wrong, somehow. When we mate Gyhan, it can be an enjoyable act for both participants. I will wait until she is awake and we get to my dwelling in Alogoria.

  Recalling how much the collar she wears bothered her, I take a device off my belt and scan it over the collar, releasing the lock. When it pops open I remove it, tutting at the chafing it has caused. I run my tongue over her damaged skin, enjoying her taste. There is a healing agent in my saliva that will sooth the marks caused by the useless collar.

  Shaking my head, I glory at the ineptitude of the Zapex. Why such a powerful and advanced culture as they would find it necessary to collar some puny human females is beyond me.

  Removing my vest, weapons, boots, and pants, I stretch out beside her under the coverings. Immediately I exalt in the warmth radiating off her form, her sweet scent soothing my senses.

  I once had a Gyhan, Nima, reside with me while my egg took root, and again when my son’s coming was near. She, of course, was cool to the touch, as are all Gyhan. Her scent was pleasant, but Bombee’s aroma and heat have me wrapping myself around her, my root full and ready as I drift into sleep.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Earth Girl Guide to Surviving an Alien Abduction

  Tip #56

  Treat your alien captivity like a visit to a foreign land.

  Be open to new experiences, but be careful when sampling the food.

  BAMBI

  What’s a girl got to do to avoid being drugged?