Bambi's Alien Abduction

by Aubrey Cara

  I scream, yanking on my loosened bonds until I’m free. I glance up to see Oathar has lost his spear. Shit. I propel myself over the driver’s seat, hitting buttons on the display panel. “Open, you stupid piece of alien Prius!”

  The overhead panel slides open. I have no idea how I accomplished this. I don’t really care. I’m jumping out of the vehicle before I can think better of it. I grab a spear off the side of the hovercraft, but it doesn’t budge. Planting my feet, I struggle to remove the damn spear. The whole time, I’m stealing glimpses of the horror show unfolding.

  With only the scythe for a weapon, Oathar has to move in way too close for comfort before he can take swipes at the beast, nearly getting eaten in the process.

  “Stupid, arrogant, alien men,” I mutter under my breath.

  They weave left then right. Baska-beast darts forward, jaw snapping. Oathar cries out, sending my heart plummeting before it gallops anew in panic.

  Shit. Blood drips from a long nasty gash in his shoulder.

  He scrambles to pick up his fallen spear and nearly loses his arm, as baska-beast moves in, its giant claw snapping.

  Adrenaline pumping, I wrench a spear free from the side panel and charge into the fray. With a warrior’s cry, I cock my arm back and launch the spear with the surety of a girl who’d spent four years throwing javelin for high school track. The sand plus my momentum trips me up. I stumble and fall on my face. Spitting sand, I look up in time to see it sail straight into the baska-beast eye, blood and gore spurting out.

  Gross.

  I gag as it screeches and writhes in what I hope are death throes.

  Lost spear in hand, Oathar charges forward and rams it up through the baska-beast’s throat to its skull. I scrunch my eyes tight at the crunching sound it makes. All falls silent. My stomach threatens to revolt, but something else pumps through me as I stare at the that spear lodged in the giant alien monster’s eye socket.

  The thrill of victory.

  I’m shaking with it.

  Or maybe that’s shock.

  Either way.

  “That. Was. Amazzzinnggg!” I yell in Oprah voice, throwing my arms up in the air. “Did you see my throw?” Oathar is still standing, staring at the dead baska-beast. High from the awesomeness that is sweet victory, I pay him no mind. “Tri-state javelin throw champ in the hizz-ouse.” I do a little touchdown dance.

  My mother made me join track in high school. Thought it would help me shed some of my pudgy pounds. Joke was on her, I kept my thighs and won state for javelin throw. She was proud and annoyed.

  So, you can throw a stick better than anyone else. What are you going to ever be able to do with that useless talent? she once asked me.

  “Kill alien shit, that’s what.” I say to no one, as I do the Dougie.

  I glance up to see Oathar is staring at me. I freeze-frame my dance, caught off guard by the burning fury blazing from his eyeballs.

  “What are you doing?”

  “The Dougie?” I answer, doubting that was the question.

  Fuming, he stomps toward me, jaw clenched. his muscles over his chest and shoulders roll and flex as he points a finger at me. “I told you to stay in the hildy.”

  I back up, holding a hand out. “I-um-well…”

  He knocks my arms away and grabs me. Bending me over, he whacks my exposed rump-shaker with his sandy palm, until I’m dancing on my toes. “Heyy!”

  “You could have been killed,” he shouts over me.

  “Ow! You could have been killed, too!” I reach back and try to cover my assets. The sand in no way impeded the ouchie sting. His hand comes down again. “Ahhh! I helped take that thing down. You’re welcome!” I snarl at him.

  Smack.

  “I told you to stay put,” he says, abruptly standing me up.

  I sway on my feet from the head rush. “Why should I listen to you?” I rub my butt, trying to ignore the warm glow happening down below.

  “Because I own you. And I am Yon Tor.”

  “You think you own me, you delusional alien prick.”

  He takes an angry step toward me. I involuntarily move back and stumble, falling against Hilda the hovercraft. My boobs bust out of the leather I had binding them, spilling out either side of the harness.

  We both still.

  The air shifts and crackles around us.

  Warmth spills from my no-no zone.

  Beast Boy’s nostrils flair. Have you ever seen a starving man eye a juicy steak? That’s how he’s staring at my boobs. That look sends tingles to all my happy places. Before I can blink, his lips are on mine, his mouth hungrily devouring me. I try to climb him, and he lifts me by my ass. My legs wrap around his broad waist as I cling to him. His kneads my breasts and ass. Pull me tighter against him.

  We’re mauling each other, coeds on spring break style.

  He’s so huge. I’ve never been into super big guys, but damn, I’ve been missing out. His muscles bunch and flex under my hands, and I want to lick every beastly inch of the arrogant bastard.

  My back is pressed against long spear shafts latched to the side panel of the hildy, but I don’t care.

  Fumbling with his pants, I paw at his egg launcher, and he grinds against my hand. He gives my cha cha a cursory finger to test my wetness—and boy am I—before his pants are around his knees, and he’s shoving home between my thighs.

  We groan in unison when he’s fully seated. I’ve never been a size queen, but oh, my God, he stretches me so good. Kegels are in my future.

  I think he’s going to pull another lame duck move, and freeze-frame on me again, but his hips move, pulling almost out before he thrusts forward. My head clunks again the hovercraft.

  Oh holy Mother Mary, that’s good.

  “Do you like it when I rut you like an Earther? Moving my root inside you?” I have no idea if he’s serious or if this is sexy talk, but it sounds teasingly seductive. “I like rutting you, my horny little human.” He holds me in place as his cock slides out and slams back in. I gasp for breath.

  Oh, hell yeah. “Rut me like the savage Alogorian, you are,” I demand.

  He growls, this feral sound that makes my happy place clench, and then his mouth is on mine again. Nipping and sucking on my lips. Trailing down my neck. All the while, he pounds into me. He sets up a tempo that makes my head spin. Every thrust rubs against my clit, making stars dance before my eyes.

  I flex around his length, already coming.

  His dick starts to vibrate, and I bite his lip, grinding through another orgasm. I’m not sure if I can survive another round of cataclysm cock. It’s not as freaky this time when I’m lassoed to his Hitachi joystick, but damned if it isn’t just as intense.

  My vision hazes, and I speak in tongues, my toes cramping. I grab the side ridges of his head, riding through the storm, afraid I might pass out.

  Cool liquid splashes inside me, and he groans against my neck. His writhing slows to a gentle rocking motion as I twitch and whimper against him.

  My brain is scrambled. Agro alien sex is awesome. His three-speed rechargeable wang is something a girl could get used to.

  I’m sure I’m going to regret this when I remember how pissed off I am with him, but right now? Now I need a wet hot minute to catch my breath because, damn him, that was so good.

  OATHAR

  Soft and pliant, Bombee rests against my chest. Her heart still races from our rutting. Her core spasms on my root, and I groan again, already spent.

  There is nothing as wonderful as the grasp of her flesh around me. My eggs are already planted, but my essence is sure to coat the yhar in nutrients. Nutrients I was concerned my yhar would be denied due to Bombee’s temperamental state after our initial mating.

  She is a passionate creature. She riles me as no other can, but I believe I have the same effect on her. Plus, she cannot resist my cafkahs. They seem to trigger her mating urge. I should not have been so worried.

  Since my yhar are planted, my vines are already loosenin
g their hold, but I am loathe to let her go. She was so angry after our first mating, we did not get to bask in the mating glow. To create life is a near spiritual thing for us on Lehor. I am not sure if this is so on Earth. Breeding may be so commonplace they do not consider it as exalted an occasion. Their population is astounding. Humans must be mating all the time.

  Her hair is so soft, and her body warm. I rub my cheek against the crown of her head. From the corner of my eye, I catch sight of the spear sticking out from the huzah’s eye. The spear she threw.

  “I underestimated your prowess, my Bombee,” I hear myself say. “For that, I apologize.” And only that. “But, you, my little warrior, cannot put yourself in danger again.”

  “Just bringing me to this planet puts me in danger,” she gripes.

  I sense her annoyance and sigh. I do not want to argue, but she cannot risk her life. “You are a bynt ky’ab yhar now.”

  Her body stiffens against mine, and I sense her pulling away. So much for basking in the mating high. At least we were able to enjoy a few more moments than before.

  “I don’t want to be your bent cabbage.”

  “Bynt ky’ab yhar,” I grumble.

  “Whatever.”

  “And you are my bynt ky’ab yhar whether you care to accept it or not.”

  She shakes her head. “We can’t do this anymore.”

  “Fight huzah?” I say, purposefully misunderstanding her, the way she constantly does to me. “I agree. That I will do without your aid.”

  She eyes the dead beast on the ground. “That’s a huzzzah?” She asks with a singsong inflection of her voice and flamboyant shaking of her hands. It reminds me of ancient Alogorian dances. ”That’s not what I thought it was going to look like.”

  “What did you think it was?”

  Her face scrunches, perplexed for a moment and shrugs her shoulders. “One of the many mystical beasts of Lehor,” she says with a flip of her hand. She uses many hand gestures when she speaks. I am not sure if this is a common human trait or just something she does. My Bombee is a unique creature. “But that’s not what I was talking about,” she continues. “We can’t do the dirty anymore.”

  “This meaning is not clear to me. Do you wish to sanitize? Because it may be some time before we reach my domicile.”

  Unfortunately, we have a long walk ahead of us. Running, the journey would take me half a shift, at most, but despite her warrior demeanor, Bombee is not capable of the speed and endurance of an Alogorian.

  She rolls her beautiful dark eyes. “You need to keep your magic joystick out of my ladytown junction.” At my questioning look, she slaps her hands on my chest and huffs, “Mating. We can’t mate or rut anymore.”

  “But this is good for the yhar. Makes strong, healthy ling.” I slip out of her, enjoying the way her tunnel grasps at me, trying to keep me near as I leave her. I set her on her feet. She may deny me, but her cha cha welcomes me. “We must hasten to begin our journey. We have a long trek to my village.”

  “You can’t call someone to come get us?”

  “I sent out a distress signal, but it will still be a while before anyone reaches us. And that’s if the signal was received. For now, we will traverse by foot.”

  Bombee shades her eyes and points at the sky. “I can’t walk under the heat of three suns. My shoulders are already starting to burn, and I’m sweating like a pig.”

  I do not know what a peegah is, but her skin is slick and glistening with her excretions. I put my hands on her shoulders, and find that, yes, they are inordinately hot. I shake my head.

  “You are fortunate it is winter, so the heat of the suns isn’t as strong.” We could wait in the hildy until nightfall, but my instincts are urging me to leave this place.

  The huzah was acting more aggressively territorial than most. Her litter may be nearby, and young huzah are mean hungry huzah.

  “Holy Mother Mary, this is winter?”

  I give her a human shrug. Hot as it is now, come nightfall, it will be very cold. We need to find shelter before that. I look around us for something she may use as a cover so we may leave. I cannot remove the dome of the hildy. It deflects sunlight, but would be too heavy for us to carry. She needs something to cover her skin, or shade her, but light enough so it won’t be too taxing to carry.

  And then it comes to me. I eye the fallen huzah, and then the extra spears on the side of the hildy. Picking up Bombee, I set her in the hildy.

  “What are we doing?”

  “You are going to cool off before we journey. I have a plan.” With that, I turn on the cooling air and shut the dome over the craft.

  I’ll have to move quickly, but it just may work.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Earth Girl’s Guide to Surviving an Alien Abduction

  Tip #63

  However bad things seem, they can get worse.

  #TrustMe #BeResourceful

  BAMBI

  “I will carry you, my bhnt,” Oathar says after I stumble once again.

  I push his hands away, but I’m not sure why I protest. My skin is dry and tight, my throat as parched as this freaking pink desert. My poor lips are beginning to crack.

  I’m worried about things like dehydration and having to go all survival mode and drink my own piss, Bear Grylls style. The fact that the idea isn’t all that unappealing, is a concern.

  If we don’t reach our destination soon, he may be carrying me the rest of the way, whether I want him to or not.

  The stench of burning huzah flesh is not a pleasant thing. Oathar assures me it’s drying out. I’m pretty sure it’s rotting. I shift the makeshift umbrella in my hands, and a goopy chunk of huzah splats on my shoulder and rolls down my arm. I fight the urge to upchuck.

  Oathar notices and has the decency to look chagrined. “I did not have the time to skin it properly.”

  “I thought you said it wouldn’t be that long a walk,” I croak.

  He watches me with growing concern. “It is not long for an Alogorian. I underestimated how hard this trek would be for you. We’ve been traveling very slowly.” There’s an apology in his voice, but he can save it.

  I’m hot and cranky. I want water. Maybe some food. And I definitely want to lie down.

  We’ve been walking forever. The three suns are finally starting to fade behind the horizon, casting the desert around us in a magnificent glow. The twilight sunset on Lehor is ten time more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen before. I’d be enjoying it even more if my feet weren’t blistered, and I wasn’t contemplating 301 different ways to kill Beast Boy.

  My feet hit the ground with jarring thuds every exhausted step I take. It’s a blessing the soft sand has given way to hard-packed sandy ground, with tufts of purple and pink grass sticking out here and there. The slippy, slidey hot stuff we were in for the majority of our hike pulled at my feet and was an effort for me to remain upright in. I hope the change of landscape is a sign we’re getting close to wherever we’re going.

  “How ’bout now? Are we there yet?” I grumble, with genuine concern and interest. We can’t reach our destination soon enough for me.

  “No, but I spot something just as good.” There is a smile in his voice. He grabs my hand, hurrying me along behind him.

  Now that the suns are going down, I drop the rotting flesh umbrella, but Oathar stops and picks it back up. “We should keep this, just in case you need it again tomorrow,” he explains.

  I groan. God, I hope not.

  I’m not quite sure where Oathar is leading me until I see a slight rise and opening in the ground, reminding me of where we stayed last night. Was it only last night? It seems like a lifetime ago. I’m pretty sure Oathar said something about their days being longer, or their cycles. I’m too tired to think. I want water, food, bath, and sleep. In that order.

  “I forgot this was here.” He sets the umbrella down and slides through the opening. He grins out at me. “Wait here. I will make sure the mah-kun is all clear.”

>   There is a flicker of light, and a crunch that I imagine is the sound of something dying before Oathar’s head reappears at the opening. He holds a speared scorpzilla from the end of his knife. “All is clear, and we will not starve. This gupa must have known you were coming. He hung around just for you.” He waggles the scorpzilla.

  It’s such unexpectedly goofy gesture, a smile tugs the corner of my lips. “Lucky me.”

  I flop down, trying not to scrape my boobs too much on the rough ground as I turn to my stomach and shimmy and slide into the dugout. Oathar’s hands grip my waist, and for a moment his face is all up in ladytown before I’m pulled through and set on my feet.

  He smooths my hair, like that’s what needs soothing, and I roll my eyes. My poor thighs and stomach have taken the brunt of the scratches. I rub the sting out and dust off the sand, glancing around.

  It’s a little smaller than the space we stayed in last night, but basically the same. Weird tash stone-fueled light stove in the middle, folded furs rest in the sleeping area along the far wall.

  “Let me shake out the furs,” he says, stepping around me. “Then I will cook the gupa.” He points to a shelf in the wall. “There is a hide of water, if you are thirsty.”

  If, he says.

  I snatch the water bag, uncorking the top, and guzzle greedily. I sputter and choke, drinking too fast. Water pours over my lips and down my cheeks, and even that feels wonderful. The second I catch my breath, I chug like it’s a keg party again, shaking the bag out to get the last drop.

  Oathar’s watching me with a frown as I run the back of my hand over my mouth. I look at the empty water hide then at him. “I’m sorry I didn’t save you any. I wasn’t thinking. I was just so thirsty.”

  He shakes his head. “There are jugs of water.” He points over to the clay jugs that line the wall. “All the mah-kuns around Alogoria are kept supplied.”