Abducted from their family farm, siblings Robbie and Lena wake up collared and subjected to invasive examinations by emotionless alien harvesters. Forced into taboo acts for a cold, clinical purpose, they find solace in each other. Their only hope for escape lies in weaponizing the very pleasure used to control them. Can they fuck their way back to Earth and reclaim their lives, or will the trauma of the stars consume them?
Chapter 1
The first thing he became aware of was the cold. A deep, metallic chill that seeped into his bare skin from every point of contact. Then came the smell, sterile and sharp, undercut by something else, something organic and faintly sweet. He tried to move, to curl away from the cold, but his limbs were leaden, his head throbbing with a dull, distant ache.
His eyes fluttered open.
The world was a blur of muted, gray-blue light. He blinked, hard, and the world resolved into sharp, terrifying focus. He was lying on his side on a smooth, seamless floor that was the source of the pervasive cold. He was naked. A wave of panic, hot and acidic, surged up his throat, but it died into a choked gasp as he saw where he was.
A pen. He was in a pen, like an animal. The walls were made of a hard, translucent material, humming with a faint violet light, with one end open but with weird columns of violet energy, like bars in a cage. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, his muscles protesting. Beyond the barrier, the room was vast, cavernous, with high, arched ceilings from which dim, ambient light panels glowed. The walls were smooth, featureless metal. And there were other pens. Dozens of them, arranged in neat rows.
In the pen directly opposite his, a figure lay curled on the floor.
Recognition was a physical blow.
“Lena?” His voice was a dry croak.
His sister stirred. She was naked too, her pale skin luminous against the dark floor. A mane of dark brown hair was fanned around her head. As she shifted, he saw the same sleek, black collar he could feel around his own neck. It was cool and seamless, no clasp, no lock.
Her eyes opened, wide and terrified. “Robbie? Oh, god. Robbie!” She scrambled to her knees, her hands flying to her throat, then down to cover herself instinctively. Her gaze darted around the room, taking in the same sterile horror he had. “Where are we? What’s happening?”
“I don’t know,” he whispered, crawling to the edge of his pen. The energy barrier hummed, a warning vibration he felt in his teeth. He didn’t dare touch it. “We were… sleeping. In our rooms.”
A memory flickered—a brilliant, blinding light outside his window on the farm, a soundless vibration that shook the old house to its foundations, then… nothing. A black void.
The sound of a door hissing open made them both flinch. Figures entered the room from a wide archway. They were tall, easily seven feet, and slender, with elongated limbs that moved with an eerie, fluid grace. Their skin was a pale, opalescent gray, and they wore form-fitting suits of a dark, matte material. Their heads were hairless, their faces dominated by large, black, almond-shaped eyes that held no discernible emotion. There were three of them.
They moved in silence, gliding between the rows of pens. One of them stopped directly in front of Lena’s enclosure. Robbie’s heart hammered against his ribs. “No. Hey! Leave her alone!”
The alien’s head tilted, those vast black eyes regarding him for a moment before flicking dismissively away. It raised a hand, and a device on its wrist glowed. The violet light of Lena’s pen winked out.
“Robbie!” Lena screamed, scrambling backward as the barrier vanished. The alien stepped into the pen. It didn’t grab her. Instead, the black collar around her neck pulsed with a soft blue light. Lena’s body went rigid. A strangled sound escaped her lips as, against her will, she stood up. Her arms fell to her sides, her posture straight and stiff, completely controlled by the device on her neck. Her eyes were pools of pure terror, locked on his.
“Stop it! Let her go!” Robbie slammed his fists against his own barrier. It yielded slightly, like thick gelatin, then zapped him with a sharp, painful jolt that shot up his arms. He cried out, falling back.
He could only watch, helpless, as the alien guided his sister, her body moving with puppet-like obedience, out of the pen and toward a central dais in the room. On it was a large, metallic table, angular and cold. The other two aliens were there, manipulating controls on a panel.
The collar forced Lena onto the table. She lay back, her body trembling violently even through the forced compliance. Smooth, articulated metal restraints unfolded from the table’s surface with a series of soft clicks and hisses. They clamped around her wrists and ankles, pulling her limbs out until she was spread-eagled, utterly vulnerable. The pose was brutally exposing, and Robbie had to look away, a hot flush of shame and fury burning his face.
When he looked back, one of the aliens was holding a device. It was a slender, metallic rod, about a foot long, with a smooth, bulbous tip that glowed with a soft, internal light. It hummed with a low, resonant frequency.
“Please,” Lena begged, her voice a thin thread of sound. “Please, don’t.”
The alien paid no heed. It moved between her splayed legs. Robbie clenched his eyes shut, but the image was seared into his mind. He heard a sharp, pained gasp from his sister. His eyes flew open.
The alien was applying the probe, its glowing tip pressing against her. Lena’s body arched off the table, a raw, guttural cry tearing from her throat. Her face was contorted in agony. Robbie roared, throwing himself at the barrier again and again, the shocks becoming a continuous, buzzing pain he ignored.
“You bastards! I’ll kill you!”
The probe began to move, a slow, deliberate penetration. Lena’s cries shifted, becoming higher, more strained. Her thighs, held wide by the restraints, quivered. The alien worked the device with a clinical, rhythmic precision. Another alien monitored a holographic display that flickered above the table, showing biometric readouts.
For what felt like an eternity, it was pure torture to watch. Her face was wet with tears, her breaths coming in ragged sobs. But then, something subtle changed.
The tense, pained lines of her body began to soften. A faint, rosy hue bloomed across her chest and crept up her throat. Her cries, still present, lost their edge of pure agony. They became… muffled. Mixed with something else. A shudder ran through her, and her back left the table for a different reason. Her hips gave a tiny, involuntary jerk toward the probe, not away.
Robbie froze, his own protests dying in his throat.
A low, trembling moan drifted across the silent room. It was unmistakable. It was not a sound of pain.
His eyes were glued to her. The probe’s movements had become smoother, deeper. The glowing tip was buried inside her, and the alien’s wrist twisted slightly with each thrust. Lena’s head was thrown back, her dark hair spilling over the edge of the table. Her lips were parted. Her breasts, small and pale with taut, pink peaks, rose and fell with increasingly rapid breaths. Another moan, louder this time, lush and throaty, filled the air.
She’s… she’s enjoying it.
The thought was a detonation in his mind, shameful and impossible. This was his sister. She was being violated by monsters. And yet… the evidence was there in the flush on her skin, in the way her stomach muscles clenched, in the desperate, hungry little lifts of her hips to meet the mechanical intrusion. The clinical procedure had transformed into something else entirely. Something sexual.
To his horror, he felt a responding heat in his own groin. A tight, gathering tension. He looked down, disbelieving. His own body, traitorous and primal, was reacting. His cock, soft and vulnerable moments before, was beginning to stiffen, thickening as he knelt by the barrier.
No. No, no, no.
But he couldn’t look away from her. The sight was hypnotic, obscene, and electrifying. The aliens were emotionless operators, but their subject was drowning in sensation. Lena’s legs strained against the restraints, not to escape, but to open wider. A sheen of sweat made her skin gleam under the cool light. The probe slid in and out with a wet, rhythmic sound that now seemed deafening.
“Ah… ah… oh,” she whimpered. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her brows knitted not in pain, but in fierce, bewildered concentration. “W-what… what is it doing?”
One of the monitoring aliens made a series of clicking sounds. The one operating the probe adjusted something on the device’s shaft. The soft glow at the tip intensified to a brighter, warmer amber.
Lena’s reaction was instantaneous. Her whole body bowed off the table in a sudden, violent spasm. A sharp, ecstatic scream ripped from her lungs, echoing in the vast chamber. It was the sound of an orgasm, raw and unfiltered. Her channel clamped visibly around the metallic intruder. The aliens watched their displays, unmoved.
Robbie’s breath hitched. His own erection was now full, rigid, standing straight out from his body, aching with a need that drowned out all reason. The sight of his sister coming apart, of her most intimate reactions displayed so publicly, of the sheer, overwhelming pleasure contorting her face, sent a bolt of pure, illicit lust straight to his core. His hand twitched, a primal urge to touch himself, to relieve the unbearable pressure, but he clenched it into a fist.
One of the aliens, the one who had been monitoring the displays, turned its head. Those immense black eyes swept across the rows of pens and landed squarely on him. On his naked, aroused state. It observed him for a long, silent moment.
It raised its wrist device.
A blue pulse, identical to the one that had controlled Lena, shot from the device and connected with his collar.
Paralysis hit him like a tidal wave. It wasn't painful. It was absolute. Every muscle in his body locked in place. He couldn’t blink, couldn’t twitch a finger. He was frozen in his kneeling position, a statue of shame and desire, forced to watch as his sister’s orgasm subsided into trembling, gasping aftershocks. The alien removed the probe with a soft, slick sound, and Lena whimpered at the loss, her body going limp against the table, spent and glistening.
The alien that had noticed him glided over to his pen. It deactivated the barrier with a touch and stepped inside. Robbie’s mind screamed, but his body was a prison. The alien looked down at him, its expression inscrutable. Then its gaze dropped to his erect cock.
A long, slender appendage, not quite a hand, extended from its sleeve. It was cool and dry as it wrapped around the base of his shaft, holding him steady. The touch was clinical, but the sensation of any touch on his painfully hard flesh was overwhelming. A strangled sound tried to escape his paralyzed throat.
From a compartment on its belt, the alien produced a device. It was a cylinder, about eight inches long, made of a dull gray metal. One end had a complex, mechanical fitting. The other terminated in a clear glass bulb, roughly the size of a large egg. With efficient movements, the alien brought the cylinder to the tip of his cock.
There was a faint hiss of air, and the mechanical end dilated, opening like a flower. It was warm, and lined with something soft, yielding, and slick. It slid over the head of his cock in one smooth, consuming motion.
Robbie’s senses exploded. The interior of the cylinder was alive. It wasn't just a sleeve; it was a universe of sensation. It pulsed with a slow, rhythmic pressure, massaging him from root to tip. Dozens of tiny, nubbed filaments inside brushed and teased the most sensitive parts of his shaft, while a ring of something tighter and more intense applied perfect, velvety friction just below the head. And it was warm, body-temperature warm, mimicking the heat of a living mouth or channel.
The alien released its grip, and the device remained attached, seemingly suctioned in place. It then turned and exited the pen, reactivating the energy barrier. A moment later, the paralyzing pulse from his collar ceased.
Muscle control flooded back. He collapsed forward onto his hands, gasping. But the sensations between his legs didn't stop. They intensified. The cylinder began to move on its own, a slow, steady pistoning motion that mimicked the most perfect, skilled stroke he could imagine. It created a delicious, building friction. At the same time, a deep, rhythmic sucking sensation began at the tip, pulling at him, drawing the pleasure up and out from his very core.
“Nngh… god…” he groaned, unable to help himself. He tried to reach for it, to pull the infernal, wonderful thing off, but the moment his fingers got near, a sharp, warning shock arced from the device, zapping his hand. He jerked back.
He was trapped with it. Forced to feel it.
His eyes, wide and helpless, were dragged back to the table. The aliens hadn’t finished with Lena. The probe was being applied again, this time to her other entrance. She was still sensitive, still trembling from her first climax, and she let out a sharp cry as the glowing tip pressed against her back door.
“No, not there… it’s too much…” she pleaded, her voice hoarse.
But the device was insistent. There was a slick, wet sound—some kind of lubricant being dispensed—and then a slow, inexorable penetration. Lena’s mouth formed a silent ‘O’ of shock. This was different. This was a deeper, more intense violation. Her body fought it for a moment, clenching tightly, but the probe’s steady pressure and the strange, warming vibration it emitted soon overcame her resistance.
Her protests melted into choked, breathy noises. Her face, turned toward him, was a mask of conflicted ecstasy. Her eyes met his, glazed and unseeing at first, then focusing with a jolt of horrified recognition. She saw him kneeling there, saw the device attached to him, saw his own state of arousal. A fresh wave of blush stained her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. Her hips gave another small, involuntary rock, taking the probe deeper.
The alien worked it in and out, the pace methodical but deep. Lena’s breath came in short, sharp pants. “Robbie… I… I can’t… it feels…” Her words dissolved into a moan as the alien twisted the device. Her back arched, her nipples pebbled into hard, desperate points. “It’s… it’s inside me… everywhere…”
Watching her, feeling the relentless, milking suction and stroke on his own cock, Robbie felt his control unraveling. The shame was still there, a cold knot in his stomach, but it was being burned away by a wildfire of physical need. His sister’s unabashed, vocal pleasure was the most potent aphrodisiac he could ever have imagined. Her moans, the sight of her body yielding and writhing, the knowledge of what was being done to her… it all fed the hungry device on him.
The cylinder’s pace increased subtly. The sucking grew stronger, more urgent. It felt like it was reaching deep into his balls, coaxing, demanding. Pre-cum seeped from him, and he saw the first, cloudy drops appear in the clear glass bulb at the end. The sight was degrading and incredibly hot.
On the table, Lena was climbing again. Her thighs were shaking violently. The probe in her ass moved with a firmer, shorter stroke, hitting a rhythm that made her cries become shrill, constant. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna come again… oh, god, again!”
Her second orgasm was even more powerful than the first. It wracked her body with such force that the metal table seemed to vibrate. A long, wailing scream of pure release tore from her throat, raw and beautiful in its abandon. Her channel clenched around nothing, her abdominal muscles rolling in visible waves, her toes curling wildly against their restraints. She was a vision of absolute sexual surrender.
That was the final trigger.
The building pressure in Robbie’s groin crested and shattered. “Lena!” he cried out, her name a prayer and a curse on his lips as his own orgasm erupted.
It was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It wasn't just a release; it was an extraction. The cylinder milked him with ruthless, perfect efficiency. Thick, pearlescent ropes of cum shot from him, pulsing directly into the glass bulb. The device didn't stop. As the initial, violent surges subsided, the sucking and stroking continued, relentless, pulling out more. And more. He spasmed, his body convulsing with overstimulation as it demanded a yield he didn't know he possessed. He watched, dazed and humiliated, as the bulb at the end filled. First a quarter, then half, then three-quarters with his own spend, swirling opaquely.
He was drained, utterly emptied, but the device kept working, drawing out weak, dribbling aftershocks until the bulb was nearly full. Only then did the motions slow, becoming gentle, coaxing final drops before falling still. It remained attached, heavy and full, a grotesque testament to his climax.
He slumped to the floor, spent and trembling, a cold sweat covering his body. The only sound was his ragged breathing and Lena’s soft, exhausted whimpers from the table. The aliens were detaching the probes, releasing her restraints. Her collar glowed blue again, and she sat up robotically, her movements stiff. She was helped off the table and guided, stumbling slightly on shaky legs, back toward her pen. Her eyes found his as she passed, filled with a complex storm of shame, confusion, and a dark, lingering heat that mirrored his own.
The alien deposited Lena back into her pen, the violet barrier reactivating with a soft hum. As she collapsed to the floor, trembling and spent, another of the gray-skinned figures glided toward Robbie’s enclosure. His heart skipped a beat, but before he could react, the paralyzing pulse from his collar surged through him once more. His body locked in place, helpless, as the alien stepped inside.
The creature’s inscrutable black eyes lingered on the device still attached to his cock, the bulb at the end now nearly full with his cum. With cold precision, it reached down and grasped the cylinder. There was a faint hiss as it detached, the sensation of separation sending a final, weak shiver through his overstimulated flesh. The alien examined the bulb, swirling it slightly to inspect the opaque fluid inside, its expression unreadable but seemingly satisfied.
Without a word, it turned and left the pen, the energy barrier reactivating behind it. The paralysis released, and Robbie crumpled to the floor, his body weak and trembling. He watched as the three aliens glided out of the chamber in eerie unison, their movements smooth and silent. The heavy door hissed shut behind them, leaving the siblings alone in the vast, humming room.
Naked, collared, and drenched in sweat, Robbie stared across the space at Lena. Her eyes met his, wide and haunted, yet flickering with something darker, something that mirrored the primal, forbidden heat still smoldering in his own core. The silence between them was thick, charged, and utterly irreparable.
Chapter 2
The silence after the aliens left was a physical thing, a heavy, humming void filled only with the sound of their breathing and the faint, omnipresent thrum of the ship. Robbie lay on his side, facing Lena’s pen. The cold floor leached the heat from his body, but a deeper, more unsettling warmth still simmered in his core. He felt hollowed out, both physically from the device’s ruthless milking and emotionally from the shameful, undeniable arousal that had preceded it.
Lena was curled into a tight ball, facing away from him, her pale shoulders trembling. The sight of her, so small and broken, cut through the fog of his own confusion. Protect her. That’s all that matters.
“Lena,” he called, his voice rough. It echoed slightly in the vast chamber. “Lena, look at me.”
For a long moment, she didn’t move. Then, slowly, she uncurled. She turned onto her back, staring up at the distant ceiling, before her head lolled to the side to look at him. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face blotchy. But beneath the devastation, he saw it again—that dark, lingering heat, a flicker of something that wasn’t just horror.
“Are you… are you hurt?” he asked, the question feeling absurd. Of course she was hurt. But he meant something specific, physical.
She shook her head minutely. “No. Not… not like that. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” Her voice was a thin, shredded whisper. “It just feels… empty. And my skin feels… alive. Like every nerve is screaming.” She brought a hand up, staring at her own fingers as if they belonged to someone else. “I could feel everything. Everything, Robbie. It was inside my head.”
“I know. I saw.” He swallowed, the memory of her arched back, her screaming climax, flashing behind his eyes. His traitorous body gave a weak, interested throb. He ignored it, clinging to the guilt. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t do anything.”
“You tried.” She finally turned to face him fully, drawing her knees up. She made no move to cover herself, a testament to her utter exhaustion or the shattering of all normal modesty. “You were screaming. I heard you.”
“It wasn’t enough.”
“Nothing would have been.” She took a shaky breath. “What did they… what did they do to you? That thing…”
Robbie looked down at his own body, at his soft, spent cock lying against his thigh. It looked innocent now. He remembered the weight of the cylinder, the unbelievable sensations. “It… it milked me. Made me… finish. I couldn’t stop it.” Admitting it aloud to her made his face burn. “I didn’t want to. But I… I did.”
Lena’s gaze traveled down his body, and he saw her eyes widen slightly before she looked away, a fresh blush coloring her neck. “I saw. I saw you… at the end. When I was… you know.” She closed her eyes. “It’s not your fault. They made you. They made me.”
“It felt good,” he whispered, the confession torn from him. “Watching you. God, Lena, I’m so sick. I’m so fucked up.”
Her eyes opened, and to his shock, they held a strange understanding. “It felt good for me, too. That’s the worst part. After the pain… it was like nothing I’ve ever felt. I’ve… I’ve touched myself before, in my room, thinking about… normal things. Boys from town. But this was… it was like it knew exactly where to go, how hard to press. It was perfect.” A tear escaped, tracing a path through the sweat on her temple. “And I didn’t want it to stop. I wanted it. While it was happening. What does that make me?”
“It makes us both prisoners,” Robbie said, forcing conviction into his voice. He pushed himself up to sit, leaning against the cool, humming wall of his pen. “They did something to us. To our heads, or with those collars. It’s not us. It’s them.” He met her eyes, holding her gaze. “I’m going to get us out of here. Somehow. I promise.”
Lena gave a weak, watery smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Okay, Robbie.”
Hours passed. Or what felt like hours. There was no day, no night, only the unchanging ambient glow. They talked in fits and starts, voices low, clinging to the familiar cadence of each other’s speech like a lifeline. They talked about stupid, mundane things—the old tractor that always needed fixing, the stubborn hen that never laid eggs where she was supposed to, the way the corn looked silver under a harvest moon. They carefully avoided any mention of what had just happened, of the farmhouse they’d been taken from, of their parents who were probably frantic worlds away.
It was a fragile, desperate pantomime of normalcy. But it was all they had.
Robbie found himself studying her, not as his sister, but as the woman the aliens had revealed. The slender lines of her body, the gentle curve of her waist flaring to her hips, the dark triangle of hair between her legs that glistened slightly from the probe’s lubricant. Each time he noticed a detail, he’d wrench his gaze away, fury and shame directed inward. But the image lingered.
Lena seemed to be doing the same. Her eyes would drift over his chest, his arms, before skittering away. Once, their eyes locked during one of these stolen glances, and they both froze, a current of something electric and forbidden passing between them before they hastily looked elsewhere.
The physical aftermath of their ordeal began to fade, replaced by a growing, restless tension. The alien devices had awakened something, a hunger that lay just beneath the shock. Robbie could feel it in the way his blood seemed to flow warmer, in the way his skin felt hypersensitive to the chill of the air. He saw it in the way Lena would sometimes shift her legs, a subtle, restless movement.
He was sitting with his back against the wall, telling a story about trying to fish in the creek as a kid, when the familiar, silent hiss of the door echoed through the chamber.
Both of them snapped to attention, hearts leaping into throats. The same three tall, gray figures glided in. This time, their purpose seemed even more focused, their movements devoid of any preliminary examination.
As one, they turned toward Lena’s pen.
“No,” Robbie breathed, scrambling to his knees.
The violet barrier vanished. Lena’s collar pulsed blue. She stood up, her body moving with that same puppet-like obedience, but her eyes were wide and clear, fixed on Robbie. Fear was there, yes, but also a terrible, resigned anticipation.
“Don’t fight it, Lena,” Robbie said, the words feeling like ash in his mouth. “Just… just do what they say.”
She was walked to the central dais. The metal restraints unfolded with their soft, horrifyingly familiar clicks and hisses. She lay back without resistance, her wrists and ankles being secured, spreading her open once more for the cold room. Her chest rose and fell in rapid breaths, her nipples already drawn into tight, pale peaks.
Robbie’s own body betrayed him instantly. As he watched her being bound, the helpless, vulnerable display of her nakedness, his cock stirred, then thickened, rising from its spent state with a swift, insistent urgency. It hardened fully, standing out against his stomach, a blatant flag of his arousal. He wanted to cover himself, to hide it, but there was nowhere to hide. And a part of him, the sick, awakened part, didn’t want to.
One of the aliens observed his erection, its head tilting. It raised its wrist device.
A blue pulse hit Robbie’s collar.
The blue pulse from his collar didn’t paralyze him—it seized control. Robbie’s body moved without his consent, every muscle responding to the alien’s command. He felt like a marionette on strings, his limbs jerking into motion as if they belonged to someone else. The energy barrier of his pen hissed open, and he stepped forward, his movements stiff and mechanical.
The alien stood before him, its expressionless face unreadable. Without a word, it took his arm in its cool, dry grip and turned him, guiding him out of the pen. Robbie’s feet moved of their own accord, carrying him toward the dais where Lena lay spread-eagled, her body trembling with a mix of fear and anticipation. His cock, fully erect, throbbed with a desperate ache, betraying the shameful desire that clawed at him.
He was a puppet now, just like her. The thought burned in his mind as he was led forward, every step a reminder of his helplessness. His eyes locked with Lena’s for a brief moment, and in her gaze, he saw the same terrible understanding—they were both at the mercy of forces beyond their control.
He was positioned at the foot of the table, between her spread legs. The sight was dizzying. The glistening pink folds of her sex were exposed, slightly swollen, beaded with evidence of her arousal. The cool, sterile air did nothing to diminish the intimate, musky scent of her that now reached him.
He took a final, stumbling step, his erection bobbing heavily. He placed his hands on the cold table on either side of Lena’s hips, looking down into her face. Tears were streaming silently from the corners of her eyes now, tracking into her hair.
“Lena… I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice raw. “I can’t… I can’t stop it.”
“I know,” she whispered, her voice trembling but clear. “It’s okay. Don’t fight it. It’s not your fault.” She swallowed, her throat working. “It’s… it’s okay, Robbie. I give you permission.” The words were a lifeline, a fragment of consent in this ocean of violation. Her gaze held his, unwavering. “I love you.”
The words shattered him and put him back together all at once. A sob racked his chest. “I love you, too.”
The compulsion surged. His hips moved of their own accord. He felt the head of his cock, slick with his own pre-cum, nudge against her entrance. She was warm. So incredibly warm and soft. He felt her muscles flutter, a reflexive resistance that melted instantly into wet, yielding acceptance. She was already aroused.
“Oh, god,” Lena gasped as he pushed forward.
The sensation was beyond anything. It was tight, silken heat enveloping him, a perfect, snug sheath that welcomed him in a way that felt obscenely right. He watched, mesmerized, as his length disappeared into her, into his own sister. Her eyes slammed shut, then flew open, wide with shock at the sensation. A low, shuddering moan was torn from her lips.
“Robbie…”
He was buried to the hilt. The feeling of being fully inside her, of their bodies joined in this most forbidden way, was so overwhelmingly intense it short-circuited his thoughts. All that existed was the heat, the wet, the incredible pressure, and her wide, guilty eyes locked on his.
Then the fucking began. It wasn’t him. He was a passenger in his own body. His hips pulled back and then slammed forward, setting a deep, rhythmic pace. The sound was lewd, wet skin slapping against skin, punctuated by their ragged breaths and Lena’s escalating moans.
“It’s… it’s so deep,” she whimpered, her head thrashing side to side. Her back arched, pressing her breasts up.
He could feel every inch of her clasping him, milking him with each stroke. The compulsion controlled the pace, but it didn’t dull the sensation. It amplified it. Every nerve ending in his cock was screaming with pleasure. The drag of her inner walls, the hot clasp at her entrance, the way her body jolted with each of his thrusts—it was a feedback loop of illicit ecstasy.
“I can’t… I can’t believe this is happening,” he groaned, his hands gripping the edge of the table until his knuckles were white. He was fucking her. Really, truly fucking her. And it was the most incredible thing he’d ever felt.
“It’s okay,” she chanted, her eyes glazing over with building pleasure. “It’s okay, it’s okay… oh! Right there…”
Her permission, her moans, her obvious arousal—they fed the fire in him. The shame was still there, a cold knot in his gut, but it was being incinerated by the sheer volcanic force of the pleasure. He looked down between their bodies, watching his cock, slick and shining, pistoning in and out of her. The sight was so powerfully erotic he thought he might come from that alone.
Lena’s moans grew louder, less controlled. Her hips began to meet his thrusts, a tiny, desperate movement within the confines of her restraints. “I’m… I’m gonna come, Robbie. I’m gonna come with you inside me!”
Her words were the trigger. The coil of tension in his groin, wound impossibly tight by the sensations and the taboo, snapped. “Lena… I’m there… I’m gonna…”
Her orgasm hit first. Her body seized, her back bowing off the table as far as the restraints allowed. A raw, shattered scream ripped from her throat, echoing off the distant walls. Her channel clamped down on his cock in a series of fierce, rhythmic pulses, milking him, demanding his release. The feeling of her convulsing around him, so tight and hot, broke him completely.
With a guttural roar, he came. His thrusts became jerky, frantic as his own climax erupted. He felt his cum surge up from his balls, a hot, torrential flood, and he pulsed it deep into her, into her very core. He could feel the wet, heated rush filling her. It went on and on, his body shuddering, his vision blurring as he emptied himself into his sister.
He collapsed forward, the collar mercifully allowing this, his forehead resting on the cold metal beside her shoulder, his body still weakly jerking. He was still inside her, both of them panting, soaked in sweat, connected by the most intimate of acts.
He felt his hips pull back, slow and deliberate, as his cock—still semi-hard and slick with their combined release—slid out of Lena with a soft, wet sound that made her whimper. The sensation of leaving her warmth was almost unbearable, a cruel reminder of what they’d just done and how little agency they had.
His legs moved next, stiff and mechanical, forcing him to step backward, his back becoming upright as he did so. He tried to fight it, to resist the pull of the collar, but his muscles were locked in rigid obedience. He watched helplessly as Lena’s glistening, open folds came into view, her body still trembling from the force of her orgasm. A thin trickle of his cum escaped her, pooling on the cold metal table beneath her. The sight sent a fresh wave of shame and arousal through him, but he couldn’t even close his eyes to block it out.
The compulsion guided him further back, each step measured and eerily controlled. His hands fell to his sides, limp and useless, as he was positioned several feet away from the dais. He stood there like a puppet waiting for its next command, his chest heaving, his mind a storm of guilt, confusion, and lingering pleasure.
Lena lay motionless except for the rise and fall of her chest, her eyes fixed on him. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but no words came. Instead, she just stared at him, her expression a mix of exhaustion and something else—something that mirrored the churning emotions in his own mind.
He wanted to go to her, to hold her, to apologize again and again for what they’d both been forced to do. But the collar wouldn’t let him move. It wasn’t over. Not yet.
One of the aliens produced a new device—a slim, flat disc attached to a slender hose. It approached Lena. Without ceremony, it placed the disc over her sex, pressing it firmly against her. A low hum filled the air. Lena’s eyes flew open, and she gasped, her body giving a few weak aftershocks. The device was sucking, extracting his seed from her. Robbie watched, a mix of horror and fascination, as the transparent hose began to fill with the opaque, pearlescent fluid, drawing it out of her and into a small canister.
When it was done, the disc was removed. She was left clean, violated, and empty. Her restraints retracted. Her collar pulsed, and she sat up, then shakily stood, and was guided back to her pen.
Robbie was led back to his own enclosure. The violet barrier reactivated behind him. The three aliens looked at them for a moment, their black eyes impassive, before gliding out of the chamber in unison.
The door hissed shut.
Silence.
Robbie slid down the wall to the floor, his body aching, his mind a whirlpool of conflict. He looked across at Lena. She had curled onto her side again, facing him. Her eyes were open, dark pools in the low light. They held no accusation. Only a deep, exhausted intimacy, and the ghost of the pleasure they had just shared.
He opened his mouth, but no words came. What could he say? I’m sorry felt hollow. Are you okay? was a joke.
Lena spoke first, her voice barely audible. “It… it felt good, Robbie. For real. Not just because they made it.”
He stared at her, his heart hammering. After a long moment, he gave the smallest nod. “Yeah,” he breathed. “It did.”
Chapter 3
The hours stretched, a strange, liminal time marked only by the slowing of their heartbeats and the gradual return of feeling to their limbs. The profound exhaustion, the emotional whiplash, it all settled into a dull, humming ache. Robbie lay on his back, staring at the featureless ceiling, his mind cycling through the same images: Lena bound, Lena screaming, Lena’s body clenching around him. His own helplessness. The shocking, undeniable pleasure.
A soft, hydraulic hiss made them both flinch. The main door slid open, but no tall gray figures entered. Instead, a low, disc-shaped drone floated in, silent as a ghost. It glided to a spot between their pens and deposited two large, shallow bowls made of the same seamless metallic material as everything else. They were filled with clear, still liquid. The drone retreated, and the door sealed again.
“Water,” Lena said, her voice hoarse.
Robbie’s own throat was a desert. He crawled to the edge of his pen, the violet barrier still shimmering between him and the offering. As he watched, the barrier directly in front of the bowl dissolved, leaving a small, arched opening just large enough to reach an arm through.
“It’s safe. They’d have just killed us already,” he muttered, more to convince himself. He thrust his arm through the opening, the cool air of the chamber brushing his skin. His fingers closed around the smooth rim of the bowl, and he dragged it back into his pen. It was heavier than it looked. Lena did the same.
He didn’t wait. He dipped his hands in and brought the water to his mouth. It was cool, tasteless, and utterly perfect. He drank greedily, water sluicing down his chin and chest. He drank until his stomach felt full and sloshing, then sank back, panting.
Lena was doing the same, her delicate throat working as she swallowed. When she finished, she set the bowl aside and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked… clearer. The shattered, glazed look in her eyes had receded, replaced by a weary, painful awareness.
“Robbie?” she asked softly.
“Yeah?”
“Talk to me. For real this time. Not about the farm.”
He knew what she meant. The pantomime was over. The water, a basic gesture of sustenance, made their situation feel terrifyingly permanent. He sat up, drawing his knees to his chest. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Start with how you feel.”
A harsh laugh escaped him. “How I feel? I feel like my brain’s been scooped out, deep-fried, and stuffed back in my skull. I feel… guilty. So fucking guilty, Lena. I looked at you on that table and I got hard. I fucked you and I… I loved it.” The words, spoken plainly in the quiet chamber, felt like stones dropping into a still pond.
She was quiet for a long moment, tracing a finger around the rim of her water bowl. “I know,” she finally said. “I saw. And… I felt it. When you were inside me. I felt how much you wanted it. How much you wanted me.” She looked up, meeting his gaze. Her cheeks were flushed. “And I wanted it, too. Not just the… the feeling. But you. I wanted you.”
His breath hitched. “Lena…”
“It’s my dirty little secret,” she whispered, a faint, self-deprecating smile touching her lips. “I’ve had it for… a while. Years, maybe. Watching you work shirtless in the field. The way your back muscles moved. I’d lie in my room at night and… and think about it. About what it would feel like. I hated myself for it. I thought I was a monster.” A tear escaped, but she didn’t brush it away. “I never, ever thought I’d say it out loud. Especially not here.”
The confession landed in Robbie’s chest and exploded, sending shockwaves through his entire being. All those stolen glances, the sudden awkwardness between them that would come and go… it hadn’t been just his imagination. His own secret, locked away in the darkest part of him, roared to the surface. “You’re not a monster,” he said, his voice thick. “Because if you are, then I am too. I’ve… God, Lena, I’ve had dreams. Waking fantasies. For years. About you. I’d see you coming out of the bath, wearing only a towel, and I’d have to leave the house. I’d get so angry at myself.”
Her eyes widened, shining with a mix of tears and a startling, vulnerable hope. “Really?”
“Yes. Really.”
A strange, airy laugh bubbled out of her. It was a beautiful sound, so out of place in the sterile hell. “Why did it take being abducted by aliens for us to fuck?”
The absurdity of it hit them both at once. Robbie started laughing, a deep, relieved sound that felt like it cracked something open in his chest. Lena joined him, her laughter turning into helpless giggles. For a minute, they were just two kids sharing a terrible, hilarious secret, the horror of their circumstance momentarily pushed aside by the sheer cosmic joke of it.
When the laughter subsided, they were left breathless, looking at each other with a new, profound intimacy. The shame was still there, but it was now woven with a bright, defiant thread of mutual understanding.
“So,” Lena said, her voice softer now. She shifted, uncrossing her legs and letting them fall slightly apart. A deliberate, open posture. “No more guilt. Not for this. They made us do it the first times. That’s on them. But… what if we choose it?”
Robbie’s heart began to pound. “Choose it?”
“Next time they come. And they will come. You know they will. They’ll make you walk over to me, and they’ll strap me down. But… what if we don’t fight it in our heads? What if we want it?” Her gaze was direct, challenging. “What if you fuck me because you want to, and I take you because I want you? We can’t control our bodies, but we can control… that. We can have each other. For a little while. In the middle of all this. We can have something that’s ours.”
The idea was a spark in dry tinder. It ignited, flared, and became a bonfire in the pit of his stomach. Choosing her. Her choosing him. Not as siblings caught in a nightmare, but as two people who had secretly desired each other, finally acting on it. The guilt and shame were burned away in that sudden, overwhelming heat. His cock, which had been soft and spent, twitched against his thigh. Then it thickened, rising with a swift, urgent fullness that left him lightheaded. It wasn’t a reluctant response to alien stimulus; it was a pure, hot, wanting erection for his sister.
Lena’s eyes dropped to his lap, and her lips parted in a soft ‘o’ of surprise and satisfaction. She saw it. She saw the immediate, physical truth of his desire.
“See?” she whispered, a sly, beautiful smile gracing her face. “That’s you. That’s all you.”
She slowly leaned back on her hands, arching her spine just a little. Then, never breaking eye contact, she spread her legs wider. Her pale thighs framed the dark, neat triangle of her pubic hair. She was still glistening there, he could see it, from their last violation—or from her own confession. With one hand, she reached down. Her fingers, slender and delicate, parted her own folds, exposing the pink, swollen flesh beneath. She touched herself, a slow, circling motion over her clit.
Robbie’s mouth went dry. He couldn’t look away. The sight of her pleasuring herself, openly, for him, was the most erotic thing he had ever witnessed.
“Stroke yourself, Robbie,” she breathed, her voice taking on a husky, commanding edge. “Get hard for me. Make it big. I want to feel it. When they make you put it in me… I want to feel how much you want me. I want your load to be so huge I can feel every pulse, every hot rush. I want to feel your love inside me. At least until they suck it all out again.”
Her words were a lightning strike. His hand moved of its own volition, wrapping around his hardening length. He began to stroke, slowly at first, then with more purpose. The sensation was incredible—not the forced, mechanical pleasure of the alien device, but the familiar, building thrill of his own touch, supercharged by the visual of Lena fingering herself just feet away.
“That’s it,” she moaned, her head tilting back. Her fingers moved faster, dipping lower to slide through her wetness before returning to her clit. “Think about it. Think about sliding into me. Think about how tight and hot I felt. Think about cumming deep in my pussy. Our secret. Our choice.”
He was fully erect now, his cock throbbing in his fist, pre-cum beading at the tip. His mind was a riot of sensation and a sudden, dazzling idea. The escape plan crystallized, born from the memory of his own collapse.
When I came last time… I slumped forward. The collar let me. Or… did it? What if it couldn’t stop me? What if, in that moment of total neural overload, during and right after a climax, the control flickers? They had to strap Lena down. They couldn’t rely on the collar for her. Female orgasms… they can be long, they can roll one into another. They couldn’t risk her getting loose during one. But for me… it’s a shorter, sharper peak. Maybe they think the risk is minimal. Or maybe they just don’t have fine enough control in that specific, overwhelmed state.
It was a wild, desperate gamble. But it was the only weapon they had.
He didn’t tell her. Not yet. If the aliens were listening, if they could understand English, the surprise would be lost. And he couldn’t bear to give her hope only to have it crushed.
So, he let the plan simmer in the back of his mind, a cold, hard kernel of purpose beneath the boiling heat of his arousal. For now, he played his part. He gave her what she asked for.
“We edge,” he said, his voice rough with want. “We get as close as we can without going over. We make it so big, so powerful, that when it happens… it’s a tidal wave.”
Lena’s eyes gleamed with excitement and understanding. “Yes. Yes.”
And so, for hours that felt both endless and fleeting, they played a torturous, intimate game. Robbie stroked his cock, learning the very edge of his release, backing off just in time, letting the pressure build and build until his balls ached and his whole body trembled. He watched Lena, who was an artist of her own pleasure. She’d rub her clit in fast, tight circles, her breathing hitching, her thighs quivering, before suddenly stopping, letting out a shuddering gasp as she rode out the near-orgasm. Then she’d start again.
They talked. Not about escape, but about desire.
“Do you remember last summer,” Lena panted, two fingers working inside herself now, “by the creek? I was in my yellow sundress.”
“You fell in,” Robbie grunted, his fist pumping slowly, steadily. “It got wet. It was see-through. I saw… everything. I had to walk behind a tree for ten minutes.”
She laughed, a breathy, turned-on sound. “I knew. I saw the tent in your shorts. I pretended not to.”
“Little tease.”
“You liked it.”
“I loved it.”
The air between their pens grew thick with the smell of their arousal, the sound of slick flesh and ragged breaths. They were in a world of their own making, a bubble of desperate, chosen lust. Robbie’s idea hardened alongside his cock. The plan wasn’t just about the physical moment of orgasm; it was about the mental state. Total surrender to sensation. Letting the pleasure become so all-consuming it might just short-circuit the alien tech’s hold.
Finally, the signal came. The familiar, silent hiss of the door.
Robbie and Lena didn’t jump this time. They simply turned their heads, their hands still on themselves, their bodies glistening with sweat, already at a fever pitch of arousal. The three tall figures entered, their movements fluid and efficient. They stopped just inside the doorway.
For a long, surreal moment, the aliens simply observed. Their large, black eyes took in the scene: the two human specimens, naked and openly masturbating, their faces flushed with anticipation rather than terror. The bowls of water, empty. It was a deviation from their expected ***********. One of them tilted its head, a gesture that might have denoted curiosity or analysis.
Then, as if a switch had been flipped, they resumed their procedure. They moved toward Lena’s pen. Her barrier dropped. Her collar pulsed blue. She stood, but this time, her walk to the dais was different. There was less of the puppet-like stiffness. Her eyes were on Robbie, bright and full of fire. She lay back on the cold table, and the metal restraints clicked and hissed around her wrists and ankles, spreading her wide once more. Her chest heaved, her pert breasts flushed, nipples tight and begging for touch.
Robbie’s own collar pulsed. The compulsion seized his muscles, but he didn’t resist it mentally. He rode it. He let his body stand and walk, his erection leading the way, bobbing heavily with each step. The alien guided him to his position between Lena’s spread legs. The view was breathtaking. She was dripping, her folds glistening, swollen and open for him. The scent of her, musky and sweet, filled his head.
He placed his hands on the table, as he was compelled to do, and looked down into her face. This was it.
“I have an idea. Be ready to move when I tell you,” he whispered as quietly as he could. Lena's eyes widened, so he knew she understood. “I love you, Lena,” he said, the whispered words firm and clear.
She nodded. “I love you, too, Robbie. More than anything.” She took a deep, steadying breath. “I'm ready.”
Her trust was absolute. It gave him strength.
The alien command surged. His hips drew back, then thrust forward. This time, he didn’t fight the sensation, he embraced it. The broad head of his cock nudged against her soaked entrance. He felt her give way, that incredible, silken heat enveloping him. He pushed, and he was inside, buried to the hilt in one smooth, deep stroke.
“Oh, God… Robbie!” she cried out, her back arching, not in resistance but in welcome.
The compulsion set the pace, a deep, rhythmic fucking that was both mechanical and intensely personal. But Robbie’s mind was an active participant. He focused on the feeling: the tight, velvety clasp of her inner walls, the hot, wet suction as he pulled back, the juicy, yielding softness as he plunged in again. He watched their point of connection, his slick shaft pistoning in and out of her, the lewd, wet sounds a soundtrack to their forbidden union.
“Let go, Lena,” he gritted out, his own control fraying as the pleasure built, a tsunami held back by sheer will. “Cum for me. Have as many as you can. Ride it. Own it.”
Lena’s eyes fluttered shut, her concentration turning inward. She bit her lower lip, and then her body began to tense. The forced, rhythmic fucking was hitting her just right, the angle deep and unerring. A high, keening whine escaped her throat.
“I’m… I’m gonna… Robbie!”
Her first orgasm hit like a thunderclap. Her body convulsed against the restraints, her channel clamping around his cock in a series of fierce, rhythmic pulses that milked him relentlessly. She screamed, a raw, shattered sound of pure release. Robbie held on, grunting with the effort of not coming, of letting the wave of her pleasure wash over him without breaking his own dam.
The aliens watched, impassive. This was data. Expected data.
Lena’s climax subsided into shuddering aftershocks, but she was panting, her eyes wild. “Again,” he told her, his voice strained from holding himself back. “Don’t stop. Come as much as you can.”
The collar-controlled fucking didn’t stop. It was relentless, perfect. And Lena, already sensitized and buzzing from their long edging session, was primed. Within a minute, she was climbing again, her moans rising in pitch. This one longer, deeper, a rolling wave instead of a crash. She sobbed his name, her hips straining against the straps to meet his thrusts.
Robbie felt his own point of surrender approaching. The pressure in his groin was atomic, his balls drawn up tight, every nerve in his cock screaming for release. He looked into Lena’s ecstasy-glazed eyes. Now. It has to be now.
“I love you!” he roared, as much a signal as a declaration.
He let go. He surrendered completely to the rising tide, focusing every ounce of his being not on holding back, but on the explosive, overwhelming feeling of coming inside his sister.
His climax detonated. It was vast, all-consuming, a white-hot eruption that blasted through every nerve. He felt his seed surge up, a torrent of scalding heat, and he pumped it into her, pulse after pulse after incredible pulse, flooding her deepest core. His vision whited out. His hearing dulled to a roar. His body shuddered violently with the force of it.
And in that cataclysmic moment of peak neural overload, as the last violent spurts jetted from him, he willed his right hand to move.
It twitched.
Then it lifted from the cold metal table.
The collar’s control was still there, a buzzing pressure at the base of his skull, but it was… fuzzy. Distorted. Like a radio signal full of static. He could move! Not fully, but he had a window. Seconds, maybe.
His head snapped up, his eyes clearing. The aliens were still observing, but one of them, the one closest to the tray of instruments, noticed his lifted hand. Its head tilted, a quick, sharp movement of surprise.
No time.
Robbie’s freed hand shot out, not toward the alien, but toward the tray beside the dais. His fingers closed around the familiar, smooth, phallic shape of the probe-device they’d used on Lena the very first time. The one that could send her into sustained, rolling orgasm.
He swung his body around, the motion awkward as the collar’s control fought to re-assert itself, a painful tingling spreading down his spine. He was still semi-connected to Lena, his softening cock slipping from her with a wet sound as he moved.
“Lena, keep going!” he yelled.
He thrust the probe-device into her, pressing it deep into her sensitive, just-fucked pussy. He fumbled for the activation button he’d seen the aliens use.
A low, powerful hum emanated from the device.
Lena, already teetering on the precipice from her second climax and the sensation of his copious release inside her, was launched into a third. But this one was different. It didn’t peak and fall. It sustained. The device’s vibrations tuned to her frequency, locking her into a continuous, screaming orbit of pleasure. Her body went rigid, then thrashed against the restraints, her screams becoming a continuous, breathless wail. Her eyes rolled back.
Fighting against the strengthening compulsion from the collar, Robbie stumbled forward, his body twitching as the alien control flickered sporadically. With a surge of determination, he reached for the restraints binding Lena’s wrists and ankles. His hand trembled as he fumbled with the unfamiliar mechanisms, frantically pressing buttons and tugging at the latches.
Her right wrist restraint clicked first, releasing with a sharp hiss. Her arm fell limply to the table, still twitching from the relentless pleasure coursing through her. Encouraged, he shifted his focus to her right ankle, jabbing at another button. This one gave way too, the metal strap retracting with a mechanical groan.
Lena’s body continued to thrash, her freed limbs flailing wildly against the table, but she remained partially restrained, her left side still locked down. Robbie groaned in frustration, his muscles straining against the collar’s renewed dominance. He had freed half of her, but it wasn’t enough—not nearly enough.
The alien who had noticed his movement was now gliding forward, its long arm outstretched, its wrist device aimed at Robbie’s collar. The other two were also moving, their calm efficiency broken.
Robbie’s window was slamming shut. The static in his head was clearing, the collar’s control solidifying, seeking to lock his limbs back into place. He had one move left.
With a final, monumental surge of will, he lunged away from the table, his body screaming in protest. He threw himself at the nearest alien, the one approaching him. He collided with its tall, slender frame. It was lighter than it looked, but cool and hard as polished stone.
He ignored the shock of the impact, the revulsion at touching the thing. His right hand shot up and clamped around the alien’s thin, columnar throat. He squeezed with all the strength left in his drained, battered body. He felt something brittle give way beneath his fingers.
A choked, airless sound, utterly alien, gurgled from the creature. Its large black eyes, so close to his, widened in what could only be shock and pain.
“LENA!” Robbie bellowed, his voice raw, as the world narrowed to the struggle in his hands and the screaming from the table. “FREE YOURSELF!”
Chapter 4
Time stopped in the struggle. Robbie’s entire world narrowed to the sensation of brittle cartilage grinding under his palm, the choked, gurgling rasp from the alien’s lipless mouth, and the burning, paralytic lock holding his body rigid. He could only watch, his vision tunneling, as the scene unfolded.
The second alien, its movements a blur of panic, darted toward Lena’s free, kicking foot. It reached for her ankle, its long, spindly fingers extending.
Lena didn’t hesitate.
She’d bucked bales of hay since she was twelve. She’d kicked stubborn stall doors shut with a force that shook the rafters. This was no different. She drew her leg back, every muscle in her slender thigh and farm-tough calf coiling, and she kicked. Not a wild thrash, but a practiced, powerful, mule-like thrust.
Her bare heel connected with the center of the alien’s narrow chest with a sickening, wet crunch. The sound was utterly foreign in the sterile chamber. The tall, thin creature didn’t just stumble—it flew. It was as if its body weighed nothing. It arced backward, limbs flailing, and crashed into the shimmering violet energy bars of her own pen.
The moment it touched the barrier, a deafening crackle of violet lightning erupted, enveloping its form. The alien’s body went instantly rigid, convulsing in a violent, jerking dance. A shrill, piercing shriek, a sound of pure, digitized agony, tore from it, shredding the air. It slid down the energy field and crumpled to the floor in a twitching heap, smoke curling from its dark garment.
The third alien, the one who had been monitoring the procedure, was already in motion, rushing for Lena’s still-restrained left hand. Its focus was absolute, a flaw in its logic. It saw the restrained limb as the priority, not the now-free, enraged young woman attached to it.
As it leaned over, reaching for the metal clasp, Lena acted. With her right hand now free, she balled it into a tight fist. All the terror, the violation, the helpless rage of the last day—or however long it had been—coalesced into that single motion. She didn’t swing wildly; she bashed.
Her knuckles, hardened from years of farm work, connected with the side of the alien’s smooth, hairless head, right where a human temple would be. The impact was a dull, solid thok. The alien’s large black eyes seemed to jiggle in its sockets. It froze, a statue of surprise, for one endless second. Then its long limbs folded, and it collapsed to the floor beside the dais, completely still.
Silence, thick and stunned, rushed in to fill the vacuum left by the shrieking and struggle. The only sounds were Robbie’s ragged, straining breaths and Lena’s frantic panting. The alien in his grip had gone limp, but he couldn’t release it. The paralysis held his hand locked in its lethal grip.
“Lena…” he grunted, the word a strain.
She was already moving, her body trembling with adrenaline and the fading, electric echoes of the forced orgasms. With shaking fingers, she found the release on her left wrist restraint, pressing the same button she’d felt the aliens use. It hissed open. She did the same for her left ankle, the strap retracting. She was free.
For a second, she just lay there, spread-eagled on the cold table, gulping air. Then she pushed herself up on her elbows. Her gaze fell to the obscene, humming device still buried deep inside her. A flare of revulsion crossed her face. She wrapped her hand around its smooth, alien shaft, gritted her teeth, and pulled.
It slid out with a wet, sucking sound that made Robbie’s spent cock twitch. She tossed it clattering to the floor, where it skittered away, still emitting a faint, pulsating glow.
“The wrist,” Robbie said, his voice tight. “The thing on its wrist. The one that’s out. Press something. Try to… to release me.”
Lena scrambled off the table, her legs almost buckling as her feet hit the floor. She stumbled to the unconscious alien she’d punched, its slender form looking fragile and broken. Its long arm was splayed out, and on its wrist was a sleek, dark band with a series of raised, unmarked nodules. She grabbed its limp hand, her own fingers slick with sweat. She hesitated, looking at Robbie’s paralyzed, straining form.
“Just do it,” he urged. “We don’t have a choice. If it does something worse, we’ll just press another one. We have to get this collar off me.”
Nodding, Lena took a steadying breath. She pressed a random nodule at the top of the band.
A low hum. The paralytic lock on Robbie’s body vanished so abruptly he gasped, staggering forward a step. His hand, still locked around the first alien’s throat, was now his to control. He released it immediately, and the alien slid down his body to join the others on the floor, a heap of gray limbs and dark cloth.
“Okay,” Robbie breathed, flexing his freed hand. It ached. “Okay, good. That was… that was the release. Now… the collars. Find what controls the collars.”
They worked quickly, fear lending them focus. Lena kept the wrist device aimed at the unconscious alien, pressing different nodules while Robbie watched his collar. The third button she tried caused the sleek black band around his neck to emit a soft click. A seam appeared, and it fell away, hitting the floor with a light plastic sound. The relief was immediate, a lifting of a constant, subconscious pressure he hadn’t fully acknowledged until it was gone.
“Mine next,” Lena said, turning the device on herself. A few tries later, her collar also disengaged and fell. She rubbed her neck, her eyes wide with disbelief.
They stood there for a moment, naked and panting in the center of the room, surrounded by their captors. The reality of it was too huge to process.
“We need to secure them,” Robbie said, his mind clicking into a pragmatic, survival gear. “In case they wake up. That one’s dead, I think.” He pointed to the one he’d choked. The one by the pen was motionless, possibly dead. The one Lena had punched was out cold.
“How?”
“Their own system. Put a collar on one. Put it in a pen.”
It was a grim, messy process. They stripped the dark, featureless garment from the alien Lena had knocked out. Underneath, its body was smooth, cool, and sexless, a pale gray mannequin. Robbie tried not to think about it as he fastened the open collar from the floor around its thin neck. It clicked shut, conforming to the shape.
Working together, they dragged the limp body to Robbie’s now-open pen. Lena found a nodule on the wall that deactivated the violet barrier. They shoved the alien inside onto the cold floor. Lena pressed the wall nodule again, and the barrier snapped back into place, humming softly, containing their former captor.
The other two aliens they left where they were. The one by the pen was clearly not getting up. The one Robbie had choked still had not moved. They decided it was no immediate threat.
“We need to find a way out of here,” Lena whispered, her body trembling not from cold but from the massive dump of adrenaline. “We need clothes. A weapon. Something.”
Robbie nodded. The main door through which the aliens always came was still open, a dark rectangle leading into a softly lit corridor. He took Lena’s hand. Her fingers were icy in his. “Stay behind me.”
The ship was nothing like the vast, cavernous chamber he’d imagined. The corridor was narrow, its walls made of the same seamless, warm metallic material. It curved gently. They passed a few closed, featureless doorways. The first one they managed to open revealed a small, stark living area: three long, narrow benches that might have been beds, and a flat, blank surface on one wall. No decorations. No personal effects. It was chillingly utilitarian.
The next door led to what was clearly the cockpit. A wide, curved viewport dominated the front, showing not the dizzying starfields Robbie had feared, but the familiar, breathtaking swirl of a blue-and-white planet against the black velvet of space.
Earth.
They were in high orbit, silent and motionless. The sight was both comforting and deeply terrifying. They were so close to home, yet utterly trapped.
The control consoles were arrays of soft, glowing lights and unfamiliar symbols. There were no joysticks, no steering wheels. Just smooth panels and gentle, rhythmic pulses of light.
“We can’t fly this,” Lena said, her voice hollow.
“No,” Robbie agreed. His eyes scanned the small room. Other than the cockpit and the living space, there seemed to be only one other door, which they’d already come from—the experimentation chamber. “This is it. This is the whole ship. These three… they were it. The only crew.”
The realization was staggering. Their monumental, cosmic horror had been perpetrated by a skeleton crew on what seemed like a small, illicit vessel. It made the violation feel somehow more sordid, more petty.
They returned to the main chamber. The alien in the pen was beginning to stir, its long limbs shifting. Its large, black eyes blinked open, focusing on them standing outside its prison. It scrambled back, a movement that was startlingly human in its fear, until its back hit the far energy barrier, making it flinch.
They stood, watching it. It watched them back, its chest moving rapidly.
“What do we do?” Lena asked.
“We ask it questions,” Robbie said. He stepped closer to the barrier, ignoring his own nakedness. The power dynamic had irrevocably shifted. “Can you understand me?”
The alien’s head tilted. It remained silent for a long moment. Then, a voice, synthesized and flat, yet fluent, emerged from a small device on its collar. “I… speak English.”
Robbie and Lena jumped. The voice was emotionless, but the words were clear.
“You can talk?” Lena exclaimed, stepping forward.
“Vocal synthesizer. For… field work.” The alien shifted, its gaze flicking between them. “You are… remarkably resilient. And violent.”
“Why?” Robbie demanded, anger hot in his throat. “Why did you do this to us? What do you want?”
The alien was silent again, as if calculating a response. “Biological samples,” it said finally. “Human… sexual fluids. Gametes. Neuro-chemical cocktail released during coital climax. Unique. Potent.”
“For what?” Lena pressed, her voice shaking with disgust.
“Processing. Distillation. A… recreational substance. For my species. It is… highly valued. Illegal, but valued.” The alien’s tone was matter-of-fact, a poacher explaining his trade. “Your planet is a… fertile, unregulated source. We take from remote locations. Minimal risk.”
Robbie felt a sick rage boil inside him. They were cattle. Dairy cows, to be milked for some alien narcotic. “You’re fucking monsters.”
“We are… harvesters.” The alien’s head tilted again. “You have incapacitated my crew. You control the vessel’s containment systems. This is a… novel situation.”
“Take us back,” Robbie said, his voice low and dangerous. “Right now. Land us where you took us from. And we’ll let you go.”
The alien seemed to consider this. “The collars. You would remove mine?”
“After you land. And after you show us how to open the door.”
“A conditional agreement.” The alien shifted, its movements less fearful now, more analytical. “I will comply. The alternative is mutual starvation in orbit. The navigation system is… biometrically locked to my species. You cannot operate it.”
It was a checkmate, and they all knew it. Robbie hated it, but he nodded. “Do it.”
Robbie, holding the wrist control device pointed at it, released the alien and they followed it to the cockpit. It moved slowly, its tall frame seeming to fold into the pilot’s seat. Its long fingers danced over the panels, and the soft lights responded.
The ship began to move, smooth and silent. Earth grew larger in the viewport, a vast marble of cloud and land. They watched, hearts in their throats, as the ship descended, the blackness of space giving way to the deep blue of the atmosphere. There was a slight vibration, then they were through, clouds whipping past, and then the familiar patchwork of rural fields and forests at night.
The alien guided the ship with an eerie, silent precision. It slowed, then hovered, then settled with the gentlest of bumps in a familiar field—the back pasture of their own farm. Through the viewport, they could see the dark shape of their house and barn silhouetted against the starlit sky.
The alien worked the console. A soft hiss came from behind them—the main outer door, in the experimentation chamber, sliding open. The smell of night air, of damp grass and earth, flooded in, so sweet and real it made Lena’s eyes water.
“The agreement is fulfilled,” the alien’s synthesized voice stated.
Robbie kept the wrist device aimed. “Lena, go. Get out. I’ll follow.”
Lena didn’t need telling twice. She ran, bare feet slapping on the metallic floor, out of the cockpit, through the chamber, and into the glorious, open night. Robbie backed toward the door, watching the alien. It made no move, simply watching him with its expressionless black eyes.
When his heels hit grass, he pressed the buttonon the wrist device to unlock the collar, then he turned and sprinted out after Lena. They ran together, stumbling, until they were fifty yards from the silent, dark ship. They turned, panting, expecting some trick, a beam of light, lasers, some sort of trick.
The door simply slid closed. The ship hummed, a low frequency they felt in their teeth. Then, with a silent rush of displaced air, it lifted off the ground. It rose, swift and smooth, turned at a sharp angle, and shot into the sky, disappearing into the cloud layer in seconds, leaving no trace but a faint, ozone scent and two crushed circles in the dew-heavy grass.
They were alone. On Earth. In their field. Naked.
The silence of the country night was absolute and profound. Crickets chirped. A distant cow lowed. The wind rustled the leaves of the old oak tree. It was the most beautiful symphony Robbie had ever heard.
He looked at Lena. She was staring at the sky, tears carving clean paths through the grime on her cheeks. Her pale skin glowed in the starlight, her slender body trembling. She looked utterly vulnerable, and impossibly strong.
She turned her gaze to him. The shared terror, the impossible survival, the horrific intimacy of what they’d endured and what they’d chosen—it all hung between them, a thick, electric current.
Without a word, they both started walking toward the house. Their feet, toughened by a lifetime barefoot on this land, found the familiar path through the tall grass. The farmhouse was dark, silent. Their parents were probably asleep, or wondering where their adult children had got to for the past two nights, unaware they had been stolen from their beds and taken to the stars.
As they passed the old, red-painted barn, Lena slowed. Then she stopped altogether. She looked at the broad, sliding door, then back at Robbie.
Their eyes met.
No discussion was needed. The house meant beds, showers, normality—and questions they couldn’t possibly answer. It meant pretending this hadn’t happened. The barn… the barn was different. It was their childhood fortress, their secret space. It was where they’d played, where they’d hidden from chores, where the scent of hay and animals and oiled leather was the scent of safety.
And right now, it felt like the only place on Earth that could hold the enormity of what they were feeling.
Wordlessly, Robbie pushed the heavy door sideways just enough to slip in. Lena followed. Inside, the darkness was deeper, pierced by shafts of silver moonlight streaming through the high, dusty windows. The air was warm, thick with the smell of dry hay, old wood, and the pleasant, musky scent of the two sleeping dairy cows in their stanchions.
They stood in the center of the main aisle, the moonlight painting their naked bodies in stripes of silver and shadow. The silence here was different—alive with the soft rustle of mice in the loft and the slow, deep breathing of the animals.
Lena turned to him. Her eyes were huge in the gloom. “We’re home,” she whispered, as if testing the words.
“We’re home,” he echoed. The truth of it hit him then, a physical wave that made his knees weak. He sank down onto a soft pile of loose hay that had spilled from a broken bale. Lena joined him, the dried stalks whispering and poking at their skin.
For a long minute, they just sat, leaning against each other, shoulder to shoulder, feeling the solid, unyielding reality of Earth beneath them. The adrenaline was gone, leaving a deep, bone-melting fatigue—and something else. A restless, buzzing energy. A heat that had nothing to do with the warmth of the barn.
Their ordeal had been a nightmare of violation. But in the middle of it, they had found each other. They had chosen each other. The memory of their whispered confessions, of their mutual edging, of the desperate, passionate plan, surged back, not as shame, but as a fierce, defiant warmth.
Robbie’s hand found hers in the hay. He laced his fingers through hers. They were both filthy, streaked with alien residue and their own dried fluids. They were both exhausted. And they were both, he could feel it radiating from her, achingly aroused.
It was a primal, simple need. To feel life. To feel pleasure. To reclaim their bodies, not through violation, but through mutual, desperate want. To stamp the memory of the cold metal table with the feeling of warm hay and each other’s skin.
Lena turned her head. Her lips found his in the darkness.
Her mouth was hot and hungry, her tongue sliding against his with a frantic urgency. She tasted of salt and fear and a wild, unfettered need. Robbie groaned into her mouth, his hands coming up to cup her face, his thumbs stroking the wet tracks of her tears.
He pulled her down into the hay, their bodies rolling together in a tangle of limbs and dried grass. The scratch of the stalks was a delicious friction against his back, her skin silken and hot against his chest. She straddled him, her dark hair falling around their faces like a curtain, her pert breasts brushing his skin, her nipples hard little points that made him shudder.
“I need to feel you,” she breathed against his lips, her voice ragged. “I need to feel us. Here. Now. On our ground.”
“Yes,” was all he could manage. His hands slid down her back, over the delicate knobs of her spine, to grip the firm, perfect curves of her backside. He squeezed, pulling her tight against him. His cock, which had been soft and spent, was responding with a swift, urgent vigor that stole his breath. It thickened, lengthened, rising hard and insistent between them, nestling against the hot, damp seam of her body.
Lena gasped, grinding herself against his length. She was already wet, a slick, ready heat that soaked his shaft. The scent of her arousal, pure and human and mingled with the hay, was an intoxicating perfume.
“I’m so empty, Robbie,” she whimpered, her hips moving in a slow, desperate circle. “They took everything. Fill me. Please. Fill me with us.”
He shifted, guiding himself with one hand. The broad head of his cock found her entrance, slick and welcoming. He looked up into her eyes, silvered by the moonlight, wide and dark with desire.
“This is ours,” he said, his voice rough. “Only ours.”
He thrust upward as she sank down.
The feeling was cataclysmic. After the cold, mechanical precision of the alien compulsion, this was all fire and friction and a perfect, messy, human alignment. She was so tight, so incredibly hot and wet, her inner muscles clasping him in a velvet vice. She cried out, a sharp, beautiful sound that echoed softly in the rafters, and threw her head back, her pale throat exposed.
Robbie’s hands gripped her hips, holding her steady as he began to move. He set a deep, relentless pace, driving up into her welcoming heat, the hay crunching beneath them. Every thrust was a reclamation. Every gasp from her lips was a victory.
Lena rode him with a fierce, farm-girl strength, her thighs gripping his sides, her body meeting every plunge. Her hands braced on his chest, her fingers digging into his skin. Her breasts bounced with their rhythm, and Robbie leaned up, capturing one tight peak in his mouth. He suckled hard, laving the nipple with his tongue, and she moaned, the sound vibrating through her body into his.
“Harder,” she begged, her voice breaking. “I need to feel it all. I need to forget their… their things. Make me feel only you.”
He obliged, rolling her over onto her back in the hay without breaking their connection. The new position allowed him to drive even deeper, his body covering hers, his weight pinning her to the earth. He fucked her with a raw, untamed power, each stroke a piston of love. The slap of their skin, the rustle of hay, their mingled, panting breaths—it was a symphony of life, of survival, of pure, unadulterated lust.
Lena’s legs wrapped around his waist, her heels digging into the small of his back, pulling him impossibly deeper. Her fingers clutched at his shoulders, his back, leaving trails in the sweat and grime. Her eyes were locked on his, and in them, he saw no shame, no hesitation. Only a reflected fire, a shared, desperate hunger.
“I’m close,” she sobbed, her body beginning to tighten around him. “Oh God, Robbie, I’m so close…”
“Look at me,” he growled, his thrusts becoming shorter, harder, more frantic. “Look at me when you come.”
Her climax hit her like a seizure. Her entire body bowed off the hay, her back arching, a long, wailing cry tearing from her throat that was part pain, part ecstasy, part pure, liberated joy. Her channel clenched around him in violent, rhythmic pulses, milking him, demanding his release.
It was too much. The sight of her, the feel of her, the smell of home and sex and her—it shattered his control. With a roar that was muffled by her shoulder, he came. It was a different kind of orgasm than the ones forced from him. This was deeper, hotter, more profound. It felt endless. He poured himself into her, pulse after scalding pulse, flooding her with his seed, marking her, claiming her, binding them together in this most primitive of ways. It was a homecoming, a celebration, a defiant fuck-you to the universe that had tried to break them.
He collapsed on top of her, spent, his body heavy and slick with sweat. They lay there, tangled in the hay, his softening cock still nestled inside her, their hearts hammering against each other’s ribs, slowly syncing to a steadier, exhausted rhythm.
The barn was silent again, save for their slowing breaths. A cow lowed softly in her sleep. Lena’s fingers traced lazy, aimless patterns on his damp back.
“Welcome home,” she murmured, her voice thick with spent passion and wonder.
“Welcome home,” he agreed, nuzzling into her hair.