The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Harvesters — Chapter Two: The Spring Harvest

* * *

Prologue:

Forty three days ago, an Orion collection ship entered the Earth’s atmosphere. It has been almost three weeks since their successful strike on the National Guard Armory. In the stressful days that followed, Orion shock troopers also carried out successful raids on Brewers Air Force base, as well as the State Police barracks. With their first three targets easily neutralized, the time has come for the aliens to move on with phase two of the mission.

…Shawnee County is prime and ready for the taking.

It’s a warm spring night in early April, when Brett Johnson drives his 1972 Malibu SS out of Silver Lake and heads west towards Rossville. There isn’t much activity outside of town at this late an hour, save for the occasional tractor trailer passing by on U.S. 24, or the sporadic burnout by some restless farm boy in his fast car. However, this trip wouldn’t involve street racing his souped-up Chevy against another local hot shoe. Tonight, the Barclay Bears starting forward is out on a date with Pamela Andrews, another college student that’s come home for the Easter break.

One might say that Pamela Andrews is the ultimate girl next door. From her sun-streaked hair, to her deeply tanned skin, the nineteen-year-old freshman looks more like a California beach bunny, than a small-town farm girl from Kansas. At 5′ 11″, “Pammy” (as her roommate’s called her) is taller than most other girls, and sports an all-natural figure to just die for. Whenever the freshman flashes her Colgate smile, little dimples appear in her rounded cheeks. And she has beautiful blue eyes, framed by thick, long lashes. But Pam’s most appealing feature is her warm and friendly nature…

Pamela has decided to let her golden tresses down tonight, allowing them to bounce playfully across her shoulders. Up on top, the gal touts her school pride by wearing a sweatshirt with the iconic ‘Barclay Bears’ logo stretching out across the front. Down below, she sports a pair of faded denim cutoffs with the hems rolled up, and they’re hugging her bottom curves just right...

The young couple had just finished a fulfilling Easter dinner at Pamela’s parents’ house. Brett decided to take full advantage of the mild weather, by inviting his girlfriend out for a ride in the country.

Seated up real close and casually rubbing her boyfriend’s thigh, Pamela stares out the window with noted curiosity. It isn’t long before she asks in her cute Midwestern accent, “So whar we goin’ hun?”

Her boyfriend replies, “It’s a surprise, babe …Yawl have ta jest wait ’n see.”

Now every restless farm boy from here to Topeka knows that if you want to go parking with your date, you drive out to a place commonly referred to as “The Knob”. The highest point in Shawnee County, the secluded hilltop provides a romantic view of the mostly flat and seemingly endless landscape. Lovers have been doing it for generation after generation, and tonight would be no different.

…So with his hopes set high, Brett heads out of town and a couple more miles westward, until he arrives at the fabled dirt road. The young man steers past the rusty old gates that had been crashed so many years ago. He drives up the long dusty path until reaching the grassy meadow at the end. Although the surrounding woods are pitch dark, the open field itself is brightly lit by a full moon. Knowing that this would the perfect spot, the college freshman shifts his car into park and turns off the ignition...

The sudden lack of mechanical engine noise is quickly replaced by the intermittent chirping sounds of thousands of crickets. The young man stares out proudly across the field and asks, “So what do ya’ think?”

“Sure is purdy,” Pamela observed, “But it’s also kinda out here in the middle of nowhere.”

“Well that’s the whole point, darlin’ …Now we can finally have some time alone.”

Pamela scans their wooded surroundings and quietly considers: …Bad things always seem to happen in isolated places like this …attacks from wild animals; drug deals; —murderers dumping their victims’ bodies! …What in the heck was this guy thinking?

“…Hun?”

“What’s up, babe?”

“Could we maybe go someplace that’s jest a lil’ more …well …populated?”

“Come on, babe; I drove all the way out here so we’d have us some privacy …Aint nobody gonna bother us up here.”

“Yeah, except for the kay-yotes n’ the war-wolves!”

A shit-eating grin begins to form over Brett’s face. “Shoot, thar aint no kay-otes or war-wolves out here! Ya’ll been readin’ too many o’ ’em thar ‘Twilight’ books!”

Brett squeezes his girlfriend tight in reassurance, as Pamela cuddles up within the safety of his bicep. As she laid her head upon his shoulder, she feels that there’s no safer place to be...

The couple sits there in the front seat for a good thirty minutes, content with just watching the stars and casually making-out. At one point, a group of deer cautiously step out across the spacious meadow. They stand there peacefully in the moonlight, perfectly content with dipping their heads into the long blades of grass. Well, at least until an unseen disturbance causes them to bolt across the field and disappear into the woods…

That’s when Pamela points off into the distance and asks, “Hey, what’s that smoke comin’ from?”

Brett leans forward, his leather seat moaning in protest. From his viewpoint above the dash, he can clearly see steam emitting from one of the smoke stacks at the factory below.

“Huh; that’s the old meat-packin’ plant. That place has been abandoned and boarded up for ages.”

“So how come thars steam comin’ out of it?”

“I don’t know babe,” the boy confessed. “Must be some comp-ny bought it to refurbish.”

Pamela nods her pretty little head in understanding. With her big blue eyes now looking up into his, the girl whispers, “I love you Brett Johnson...”

“I love you too, babe.”

…The athlete leans forward to steal a quick smooch from his girl. Just a second later, he returns for a second kiss, with Pamela’s lips now reacting slowly against his. With a soft sigh, the young woman wraps her arms around his neck and accepts his probing tongue into her opened mouth…

* * *

In the abandoned meat packing plant that’s an eighth-of-a-mile below Knob, critical eyes stare at the monitor before them. Someone is trespassing on the outer parameter of the grounds, and security has taken notice. These very same eyes have been studying the pair of thermal images, ever since the intruders first arrived over a half-an-hour ago.

As a fourth figure enters the security chamber, the other three quickly rise from their seated positions and bow their heads.

“Greetings, Captain,” they welcomed, speaking in the human language they’d been trained to use.

The fourth figure ignores the show of consideration from his underlings, and immediately studies the monitor. With a look of disapproval now showing on his face, the superior goes on to ask, “So how long have they been there?”

One of them answers, “For less than a click, Sir.”

“…And has our presence been detected?”

“Not as far as we can tell, Sir.”

The captain of the ship continues to study the monitor with growing concern. “The queen would be furious! …We cannot reveal our presence this early in the mission! …Immobilize the suspects and bring them to me at once!”

“We already have some trackers at the edge of the woods, Sir.”

“Then notify me as soon as they have the humanoids in custody.”

…And with that said, the captain abruptly turns on his heel and exits the surveillance room.

* * *

Back in the meadow, the entangled lovers continue with their passionate kissing, pausing just long enough for Pamela to pull her sweatshirt up over her arms. She quickly tosses the garment to the floor, where it lands beside her boyfriend’s hooded sweatshirt. The young woman then repositions herself in a straddling position atop her lover’s thighs, facing him directly.

The basketball player returns his attention to Pam by licking a straight line from her bare shoulder, clear up to her neck. The delighted young woman expels a playful giggle. She temporarily pushes the boy away, so she can reach around her back to unclasp her lacy bra.

Brett eases up and lets out an appreciative snicker …Come to papa!

Lowering her bra from each of her shoulders, Pamela slowly unleashes her bountiful breasts. They bounce around on her chest, as she tosses the foundation carelessly over her shoulder. With her swollen nipples and her bountiful curves highlighted by the glow of the moon, the nineteen-year-old looks like a sex-kitten that’s ready for action!

Brett can’t help but stare at his girlfriend’s tits. The ample globes seem to defy gravity itself, jutting out from her chest just like a pair of ripe melons. When Pamela finally forces his lusty stare up from her rosy crests, he finds her looking directly into his eyes…

“Baby?” the young woman murmured, before linking their hands together like women often do. (Her upper arms are now squishing her boobs together, making them appear even bigger than before). Pamela then moves his hands up over her tummy to her burning breasts and asks —no— make that breathes the words, “Please touch me!”

The athlete is more than happy to oblige; at first cupping her plentiful mounds to appreciate their heft, and then squeezing and rotating them around within his large hands. Pamela’s tits have a nice full shape and are capped with large areolas and pebble-like nipples that just beg to be sucked. Never one to hesitate, Brett tweaks both of the little knobs between his fingertips, before lowering his mouth to the right breast. He draws the tip in between his front teeth, playfully batting it about with his tongue, before sucking it out to a wet and rigid point. A moment later, Brett repeats the routine with the opposite breast.

Pamela lets out a moan in pleasure, welcoming her lover’s advances. Sensing that Brett is growing hard right there beneath her, she starts to grind her crotch more aggressively against her boyfriend’s bulge. (The constant friction causes Brett to bite down on her nipple and the she lets out a squeal in delight!) …The blonde finally yanks her lover’s head from her breasts and forcefully moves his mouth to hers; this time claiming his tongue for her own. More passionate kissing ensues, and at one point Pam has to break away just to get some air. With her chest noticeably heaving, the young woman takes a couple of deep breaths…

Brett’s girlfriend is smiling down at him now; her face is flush; her parted lips all supple and wet. Even her golden-blonde hair is already tousled about. Just the mere sight of her makes his cock twitch hard with anticipation…

“Come on, let me take care of you,” Pam urged.

…Without any hesitation, Brett lowers his back onto the driver seat. He unzips his jeans, hastily pulling them down and kicking them off to the floor...

On the opposite side of the car, Pamela is wiggling herself out of her cut-off shorts and quickly tosses them onto the growing pile of discarded clothing. Now wearing nothing more than her lacy black thong and ankle socks, the blonde settles onto her lover’s thighs and peels back the band of his athletic briefs. Pam takes out his penis and studies it for a moment, taking time to appreciate its weight within her fingers. She then gets to work and starts stroking his ever-hardening cock within her willing hand. When the rod reaches its full length, the young woman pulls her hair back over her shoulder and bows forward…

“—Unnnnnngh!”

…Brett let out a deep moan, as the warm wetness of his girlfriend’s mouth encircles his penis. Pamela starts out at a slow pace, gripping it like a staff and then bobbing her head up and down in a carefully timed rhythm. After a while she draws back and drags her tongue from his ass crack up over his ever tightening sack. She tea-bags him for good measure, before continuing up the length of the straining rod. When Pam reaches the summit, she tilts her head to the side and flickers her tongue out around the sensitive tip.

“Uh …Oh …Uggghh!”

…Pamela spits a big gob of saliva on the head of his shaft. As it oozes down over the sides, she starts lathering it up with a few strokes of her hand. Pam lowers her head and takes him deep into her mouth once again. Looking up from her bowing position, she makes direct eye contact with Brett. She stares back at her man like a woman possessed, and starts bobbing her head up and down in earnest…

“What a b-ad, bad girl you AAA—re,” the guy stuttered, before letting out another indebted groan:

“Unnnnnngh!”

Pamela smiles around the girth of his cock. She always loved to hear her boyfriend’s moan like that; really enjoyed being the one in control …Hearing the strain in her boyfriend’s voice makes her suck that much harder. With her supple lips rolling back and forth over the length of the athlete’s penis, the nineteen-year-old farm girl (laughably) declares, “Ong-wy fwerb you, bwaby…”

That’s when Pam feels a large hand come down on the back of head. Taking her cue, the young woman picks up the pace, sucking him in faster and deeper into her accommodating throat. The sloppy-wet suction noises from her mouth start to increase, and she’s bobbing up and down like a real pro now; …savoring it …owning it…

With all the tension literally building inside him, Brett knows that he could come at any second. He gives his girlfriend a courtesy tap on the shoulder…

“Ah-ahh …Babe? I’m ready…”

Hesitant to get a mouthful of cum, Pamela releases her boyfriend’s cock with an audible pop …She quickly raises her head and adamantly warns, “Oh no you don’t!”

Brett lift’s his head up from the seat and glances down over his body. His straining shaft is standing tall above his groin and angrily pointing at Pamela’s face. In total frustration he yells out, “WHAT ARE YOU TRYIN’ TA DO TO ME?”

“Hold that thought for me,” Pamela advised, as she quickly rearranges herself into a straddling position. She then reaches down in between her legs and pulls the narrow strip of her thong off to the side. With baited breath, she promises, “…Cause I’m about to ride ya’ like there’s no tomorrow!”

Brett slides his hands up over Pam’s slender waist, helping her center her body into position. When she finally impales herself on his shaft, an abrupt gasp escapes from his girlfriend’s lips…

“—Ughhh!”

Pamela starts hopping up and down on her boyfriend’s cock, riding him like a pogo-stick. With her head thrown back, and with her tit’s bouncing up and down with every stroke, the young woman looks like a well-paid porn star charging towards her fake climax...

Brett’s powerful hands remain clamped around his girlfriend’s tiny waist, keeping her centered, while his cock slips and slides within her slick pussy. The pair moves as one now, like well-oiled cogs in a perfectly-timed machine —her soft whimpers answering to his husky moans...

“Uh-uhhhh!”

“Mmmmm!”

“Ohhh!”

“Uhhhhh!”

…The passion continues to build with each passing stroke. Caught-up in the heat of the moment, Brett is suddenly inspired to declare, “I love you babe; —I’m gonna love you forever!”

Pamela’s humping intensifies all at once. Between Brett proclaiming his undying love, and the rush of blood now ringing in her ears, she knows she’s nearing her outermost limit —and reaching it fast!

“Are you ready baby?” she desperately gasped out, “…Are you gonna come with me?”

“I’m ready,” Brett huffed, “—I’m gonna c—omm uh—Uh—UH!—UH!”

…Pamela goes rigid high above him —toes pointing, back arching, her hips jerking uncontrollably with each debilitating wave of her climax. She’s in the zone now, thoughtlessly humping Brett’s dick, as her boyfriend relentlessly pounds away at the clinched walls of her vagina—his hot cum now spewing deeply inside her. She continues to bounce on him as they climax together; his hips thrashing beneath her like an enraged bull trying to toss its seasoned rider.

“Uh …Ohhh …Ohh GOD BRETT! —OH YESSS! —OH GIVE IT TO ME! —OH YESSS!”

The couple’s heated climax is so incredibly intense, they completely fail to notice the onlooker’s just outside their vehicle. One of them raises a hand-held flash grenade and activates the charge…

The compact, yet powerful bomb is gently tossed through one of the opened side windows. Everyone immediately ducks down low as it rolls across the floorboard inside...

KA-CHOOF!

…There’s no violent explosion, nor are there any metal projectiles to worry about. Just a slightly muffled POOF! coupled with a discharge of brilliant white light, (similar to a magnesium flash on one of those old-timey cameras). Upon detonation, a chemical reaction causes the amber liquid inside to vaporize into a numbing yellow haze. The outburst only lasts for two seconds, (at most), and yet the device’s effects would be immediate and long lasting.

Still caught up within the throes of ecstasy, Pamela’s pussy continues to spasm around her boyfriend’s seeping rod, even as both of their minds freeze in place. Like some chicken running around oblivious that its head is head cut off, their bodies continue to move in a (albeit lethargic) humping motion, long after their vision has faded into black. Their very existence seems of little or even no importance to either one of them now...

As the yellow haze dissipates, the aliens slowly rise up just outside the car windows. They cautiously peer inside to confirm the couple’s docile state. As the female’s hips slowly grind to a halt, the watchers turn to each other and nod in approval…

* * *

…Down the hill and an eighth-of-a-mile away, alert eyes have been watching the situation unfold across several flat-paneled viewing monitors. Their live feed, (provided by the trackers’ special goggles), allows the superiors a firsthand view of the active (or rather in-active) scene.

On monitor one, the camera slowly pans around the exterior of the car. The front and rear windows are completely fogged over, indicating that there may have been some serious snogging going on. Aside from the sound of the chirping crickets, the immediate area surrounding the car has grown deathly silent. The curious tracker reaches out into the night, seeming to pluck a moth out of thin air. The poor critter had been fluttering about, apparently minding its own business, when it was suddenly claimed by the brilliant white flash. The tracker holds it up to the lens for a better view for all, before setting it back on its frozen flight path...

On monitor two, the view is approaching the passenger side of the car. A gloved hand reaches for the chromed handle and pulls the door open. The bare back of a humanoid female is slowly revealed. The camera scans around the interior rather guardedly, as if searching for any potential danger, before leaning even further inside for a closer view. The blonde’s pretty face is revealed in side profile, and even from his angle, one can clearly see that her blue eyes are open and her mouth is slightly agape. She’s hunched forward, with one splayed hand braced against the dash, whilst the other is fixed and clutching at her boyfriend’s chest. The lens starts moving again, panning down over the woman’s side. It begins to slow at the space between the armpit and her braced limb, allowing a passing glimpse of the swell of her breast...

On monitor three, yet another view shows a tracker approaching the driver side window. Again a door is opened, and the car’s steering wheel is the first thing to come into view. But then the lens tilts downward and to the right, revealing the upward staring face of a reclining male. The victim’s mouth is locked in a silent “O” as if frozen in the middle of an earthshattering climax. His large hands are still gripping the narrow midriff of the female that’s impaled on his waist, keeping her centered perfectly in place. The lens moves up from the couples merged genitals to further study the female of the species. The camera follows the curves of her waist, slowly panning over her heaving breasts and taking the time to focus in on her swollen nipples. After a moment, a gloved hand reaches out and gently pushes against her shoulder. She slowly tilts back on her pivot point like a teeter-totter. Once the tracker removes his hand, she then bobs forward woodenly, like one of those retro drinking bird toys dipping its beak into a cup of water.

…Over on monitor four; a gloved hand pushes monitor number three aside. The helpless Earth girl appears in the lens once again. A hand held scanner reaches out and makes a few passes over the length of the suspended female’s body. The device emits an eerie crackling sound as it calculates, and then rates the beauty of its intended target. The whole while, the female stares down through her lover below as if she hasn’t the slightest clue as to who he might be.

The gloved hand steps back from the vehicle, raising the scanner up to read the tally. The camera lens bobs up and down and gives a “thumbs up” meaning she’s good to go.

“Excellent!” A superior’s voice replied through their headphones. “Now bring her back to the base; if she’s in heat, Theramea might want to use her for an experiment in the breeding tanks.”

Monitor one inquires, “What should we do with the male?”

The superior directs, “Bring him back as well. We can’t afford to leave any evidence behind …And bring that crude vehicle back as well…”

After the latest command, the superiors continue to watch, as the trackers carry out their orders. They look on with satisfaction, as the human female is carefully separated from her partner and removed from the vehicle. Still frozen in a “forward facing cowboy” position, the helpless Pamela stares up blindly at the stars; her legs obscenely parted so that her womanhood is fully exposed. She’s cradled off and set down on the grassy field below.

A naked Brett is pulled out next; his stiff cock still jutting upward from his lower waist, like a fat pink mast ready to set sail. He joins his girlfriend on the dewy ground, just a short moment later. Any romantic connection that the young couple may have is surely about to end…

* * *

Out on patrol, a few days later...

It’s around one in the A.M., and Bruce Miller and Vincent Trillo are working the midnight shift for Trademark Security. The men are out on radio-dispatched motor patrol, just outside of Silver Lake Kansas, (which is almost twenty minutes outside of Topeka). The two have just finished their nightly rounds at the railyard, and are now headed up to Rossville to check-in on an old meat packing plant. The two are making small talk as they drive up U.S. 24...

Bruce Miller asks, “So what do you think of the job so far?”

“It’s ok,” admitted the rookie. “Sorta boring, but at least it pays the bills…”

“Bah,” Miller scoffed, “Easiest job in the world, kid! …I mean you’re driving around on their gas, using their car …So you gotta get out ’n check a few padlocks, every now ’n then. Maybe chase away a few punks... But it’s gravy, for the most part.”

Just then, a message comes out over the radio from dispatch:

SSSKRSHTT

“Attention all Trademark Employees: …The State Police are still on the lookout for a 1972 model Chevrolet two-door hardtop; color is red with two black racing stripes; plate number THX-1138. The missing occupants are two college students: …One white male, aged 19; brown hair; brown eyes; approximately 6′ 7″. The other is a white female, 19 years of age; blonde hair and blue eyes; approximately 5′ 11″. Disappeared from the Silver Lake/Rossville area two days ago…

Authorities are seeking any information on their whereabouts, and are asking for full co-operation from all agencies. Anyone with any information is urged to contact Kansas State Police at once. Vehicle is not stolen …I repeat: car is not stolen. Individuals may have eloped, but their families have yet to confirm this…”

SSSKRSHTT

The rookie Trillo comments, “Wow, still looking for those kids, huh?”

“Yeah,” returned Miller before going on to theorize, “Probably just some love-struck teens that decided to run off to Vegas ’n get hitched or somethin’.”

“That could very well be.”

“...And speakin’ of which; how’s things goin’ with that girlfriend of yours?”

“Which one is that, bud?”

“Oh, ok,” Miller poked, “Listen to Romeo over here!”

“What?” the rookie replied. “So I get bored with one, and I just move on to the next!”

“Ok smart ass, then the one that you were so madly in love with, just a couple a days ago.”

“Ohhh, you must be thinking of the Asian.”

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Miller replied, “The one with the funny name and the tight little ass.”

“Her name is Kiki …Great girl and sexy as hell. Problem is: she just can’t seem to keep her hands off me.”

“Now I know you’re puttin’ me on, kid!”

“No seriously; …I can’t get any sleep!”

“So she’s a real man pleaser, eh?” asked Miller, before jabbing his partner in the side.

“Yeah, well …she has this thing about roll playing and dressing up.”

“Oh yeah?” Miller replied, his eyes lighting up. “So what did she dress up as last night?”

Vincent reveals, “Last night, we played good cop/bad cop.”

“Good cop/ bad cop? What the hell is that?”

“She pretends that she’s a stranded motorist, and I pull over to help her out...”

“Don’t tell me you slap the cuffs on and bend her over the couch!”

“Yeah, why?”

“Oh shit, Vince! This is just too damned good! …So what happens next?”

“Nah,” Vince replied, starting to look a little embarrassed. “I’m not going to tell you every little sordid detail.”

“Oh, come on now!” plead his partner. “I’ve been married to the same broad for over twenty years! …Ya’ gotta give me some juicy details!”

“Nah, I can’t,” said Vincent before asking, “Say…isn’t the turn up here someplace?”

“Yeah, yeah; next off ramp, half mile up on the right,” directed his partner. “So it’s true that Asian women are submissive?”

“I don’t know about all Asian women, but this one is.”

“Christ …Some guys have all the friggin’ luck.”

“…Or all the right skills,” countered the rookie.

…As the Crown Vic sedan turns onto Packing House Road, Miller just shakes his head and warns, “This little discussion about Oriental women aint over yet, kid…”

“Whatever,” Vinny responded, before driving the Ford up to a chain link fence. He reaches out the window, manipulating the spotlight around, so that its beam is affixed on the huge padlock.

…Or at least where the padlock used to be.

“Oh shit!” Vincent exclaimed. “The whole damned lock is gone!”

“Well I’ll be a son-of-a-bitch,” Bruce reacted. “I guess I better get out and take a look.”

The elder, more experienced security guard exit’s the vehicle. Bruce studies the burnt latch on the fence for a moment, before swinging the two halves of the gate wide open. It’s only then he notices the melted remains of the padlock, lying there on the ground just beside his feet. The man returns to the passenger side of the vehicle, drops in the seat and then pulls the door closed beside him...

“Take a look at this shit,” the guard said, before turning on the Ford’s interrogation light. Bruce holds the melted padlock up beneath the light for a more thorough examination...

“Whoa!” Vincent exclaimed. “Looks like somebody torched the damned thing in half!”

“This is a damned military lock made of hardened steel,” Miller instructed. “Do you realize what kind of heat it would take to melt something like that?”

“I don’t know,” Vincent responded with a concerned expression. “But who would drag a set of cutting torches all the way out here?”

“They could have had a utility truck,” Miller reasoned. “In which case; they could’ve brought a portable plasma cutter with them.”

“This doesn’t look like your typical bunch of high school kids looking to throw a beer party. Think we should call it in?”

Bruce starts rubbing his chin in thought. After a long moment he finally suggests, “Do a slow lap around the parameter of the building first; no need to get everyone excited over nothing.”

Vincent steers the Crown Vic through the parted gates and into the factory parking lot. The headlights scan across the asphalt surface ahead, which is old and crumbling, and has numerous blades of grass sticking up through its cracks…

The building that formerly housed Slaussen’s meat packing is a 71,000-square-foot, hulking structure of concrete. Located just three miles outside of Rossville, the facility sits on nine acres of land, and had been used for the processing and storage of meat for nearly three decades. But after a slump in the economy back in the early nineties, the owners had decided to relocate their business. The plant was soon shut down, and its many employees were permanently laid off. The heavy processing equipment was sold-off at auction, and the few glass windows were immediately boarded over. Although the county ordered the place locked up, the big empty shell has been a magnet for vagrants and partiers alike, for nearly two decades…

The ‘Trademark Security’ Ford creeps around the facility, the regulation spotlight scanning over the grounds from left to right. The halogen beam reveals a myriad of colorful graffiti, including caricatures, gang sings and even some blatant obscenities.

Vincent asks, “What kind of idiot would want to break into this place?”

“I’ve chased my share of crackheads and drunken teenagers out of here over the years,” Miller recalled, before going-on to brag, “Hell, I even caught a few hookers banging their johns up in here!”

“No shit! …Heck; this place even gives me the creeps!”

“Bah!” Miller scoffed. “Circle around and we’ll see what’s going on out back.”

Before they even manage to drive around to the rear of the building, they spot a parked vehicle up ahead…

“And what do we have here?” questioned Trillo.

“Looks like an old 72’ Chevelle SS,” Miller assessed. “…A buddy had one just like that back in high school …Pull up so I can check the tags…”

The Crown Vic pulls up, it’s spotlight trained on the Chevy’s rear plate. Trillo reads, “It looks like THX-1138 …Wait a minute; isn’t that the number on that missing Chevy?”

“That’s the same plate alright.”

“But why would somebody abandon such a beautiful car out here?”

“I don’t know, but we’re about to find out,” advised Miller, before the door open to step from the vehicle. Trillo shifts the Ford into park and exits to join him...

The first thing the security guards notice is a low-pitched humming sound. It quickly brings to mind the vibration of a sub-woofer on a passing vehicle, yet not as distinct. The sub audible sensation seems to shake the ground beneath their feet…

The two men look around in the darkness that surrounds them, before the rookie Trillo asks, “Do you feel that vibration in your feet?”

Miller cocked his security hat on top of his bald head and suggests, “Bah, probably some punk-assed kid, going down 24 with one of those damned high-dollar stereos!” …The security guard then turns on his flashlight and orders, “Come on, Trillo…We got us more important business to deal with!”

…The red Chevy muscle-car is in immaculate condition indeed. Miller himself is quite surprised to find the doors unlocked. The two scan the pristine black interior with their flashlights, until the elder security guard reaches down towards the floorboards to retrieve something.

Miller recovers a lacey black bra and holds it up in front of his flashlight. “Heh-heh-heh-heh…I told you they were lovers!”

As his partner admires the delicacy of the brassiere, Trillo continues to scan his flashlight over the interior. He finds the keys still inserted in the ignition. “Something aint right here, Bruce …Maybe we better call it in.”

“Nah, I can handle these two by myself,” answers Miller. “They must be hidin’ out somewhere inside that building.”

“You think so? …Then what’s our plan of attack going to be?”

Miller orders, “Now look here; we’re going to split up and search every square inch of that goddamned building! …And maybe if we’re lucky, we might walk in on em’ doin’ somethin’ naughty!”

That’s when Trillo teases, “Wow; I guess you really are bored with your marriage, aren’t you?”

* * *

Bruce Miller sidles along the front facade of Slaussen’s meat factory, occasionally looking back over his shoulder as he goes. It isn’t long before he comes upon a large entry door. The guard scans his flashlight over the lock, only to find that it has the same singed-black appearance as the gate out front. (There’s literally a hole burned clear through the heavy-gauged steel door). The security guard slowly pushes the door open and moves onward with caution…

The sixty-year-old processing plant was the kind of place that some Hollywood filmmaker would die for. Between the eerie dripping sounds, the dangling cobwebs, and the industrial surroundings, it would be the perfect location to shoot a horror film. But as Bruce Miller creeps along in the darkness, he’s a bit surprised. He clearly recalls the thick wads of pigeon droppings that covered nearly everything around. The factory floor was usually littered with empty beer cans, broken liquor bottles and other assorted trash. But for some reason, the building has been cleaned up.

The annoying humming sound is louder in here. It rattles his teeth and numbs his feet. It’s the sound of constant white noise, like that of an industrial air conditioner, (which it could very well be, considering how much cooler the temperature is in here).

…Now why would somebody be running an air conditioner in an abandoned meat plant?

Whatever the sound is, it gets even louder once he starts down a darkened hallway…

* * *

Vincent Trillo is poking around in the darkness on the backside of the building. He’s drawn to another loud noise, (this one sounding like a large electric transformer), and he can almost taste the electricity in the air. Vincent side steps a massive pillar and continues on into the darkness. The guard can’t help but feel as if he’s walking beneath a huge canopy, (like the type that’s designed to keep multiple tractor trailers out of the elements). But when a huge blast of steam emits from something just above his head, the brave man immediately dives for cover! …It isn’t until Trillo is lying on his back and looking upward, that he becomes truly startled…

“Now what, the fuck, is that thing?”

At first, Trillo can’t even believe his own eyes. What he’d thought was a huge metal canopy, is in fact, the bottom side of a huge spaceship! The security guard lay there prone for a moment, just staring up at the mysterious vessel in awe…

Still in disbelief, he manages to drag himself up off the ground and begins scanning his flashlight to and fro. The mysterious craft is simply tremendous, being nearly the width and length of a football field. And what he’d originally were support columns for the canopy, are in fact, large landing struts that support the mass of the ship!

Jets of steam are intermittently blowing out of the various ports on the ship’s undercarriage, making Trillo flinch with each unexpected release. He walks out past one of the landing struts, just to get out from beneath the great craft. Still aiming his flashlight upward, he sees that the metallic nose of the vessel comes to a gradual point. It is only then, that he discovers that the upper flight deck rises another forty feet higher.

Trillo takes a long walk back beneath the belly of the mysterious ship, (dodging hot discharges of steam, as he goes). There seems to be some separation lines in the undercarriage of the craft, which suggest a receded loading ramp, or payload doors. Continuing onward, he eventually finds four conical engine pods at the far end of the craft. They immediately bring to mind those giant propulsion units that are mounted on the back of the NASA space shuttle.

Not sure of what this mysterious ship is, (or even why it would be hidden out here), he can’t help but feel intimidated by its sheer size and mysterious nature. One could quickly conclude that this isn’t just a grim looking-machine, but most likely an efficient one as well…

Trillo reaches for his two-way radio and raises it to his head. He presses “speak” in hopes that his partner doesn’t laugh at his unexpected discovery…

SSSKRSH

“…Bruce, you copy?”

…The man continues staring up at the craft in awe, while waiting for a reply.

SSSKRSH

“…You out there Bruce? …Come on.”

…The radio remains silent for a long moment. Then a grungy feedback noise emits from the other end.

SSSKRSH

“This is Bruce, over.”

SSSKRSH

“You aren’t going to believe this, but I think I’m standing beneath some sort of spaceship!”

SSSKRSH

“…A what?

SSSKRSH

“Yeah, it’s a FUCKING SPACESHIP! —RIGHT HERE IN FRONT OF ME!”

SSSKRSH

“Now let me get this straight, Trillo; you think you saw a UFO?”

SSSKRSH

“I don’t just think I saw one, I’m staring up at the fucking thing right now!”

SSSKRSH

“Alright Trillo, now just settle down for a minute!”

SSSKRSH

“No, I’m not going to settle down! …Now I think there’s some VERY SERIOUS SHIT THAT’S ABOUT TO GO DOWN! …We need to get the hell outta here, Bruce —AS IN NOW!”

SSSKRSH

“Hang on for a second, Trillo …I think I see some sort of green light beneath the door.”

…Vincent presses the ‘speak’ button, attempting to reply to his partner, but all he hears in return is:

“I can’t hear you, Trillo …Your breaking up …Wait, a minute …I’m stepping through some sort of vinyl curtains …I think it’s some sort of giant walk-in cooler …OH MY GOD VINNY! -OH MY GOD! —You aint gonna believe what’s back here…”

SSSKRSH

“What is it Bruce?”

…More annoying static that’s suddenly interrupted by:

“Christ they’re everywhere, Trillo! …NO! …NO…PLEASE DON’T! …NO PLEASE—…RUN, TRILLO, RU—”

Miller’s radio goes deathly quiet. Fearing for his own life, Vincent Trillo turns to run for the car, only to bump right into an unseen figure that’s standing before him. By the time the guard has the sense to react; the hooded alien has already raised a wand-like armament and pointed it at his face. The cylindrical weapon emits a brilliant flash that’s a hundred times more powerful than the brightest of human-made flashbulbs!

CHOOVE—CHOOVE—CHOOVE—CHOOVE—CHOOVE!

The brilliant burst of energy surges from the weapon, immediately engulfing the young security guard. Without so much as firing off a shot, Vincent Trillo is immediately frozen in place; his arm still locked in a position as if reaching for the weapon he wasn’t allowed to carry…

The hooded figure raises the clear cylindrical tube that’s just subdued his foe, and adjusts a dial at the head of its hand-grip. The alien then passes the wand over Vincent’s petrified form, scanning him from head to toe.

Inside his suspended body, Vincent can feel the wave of energy passing over his frame. He wouldn’t know it, but the invasive weapon is recording important information, such as his measurements; his weight; his age; and other vital data that will be useful to the Orion’s.

A few moments later, the hooded alien is joined by others. The helpless security guard, (still stiff as a board), is picked up by head and toes and carried inside the meat plant like a cigar store Indian, where he will eventually rejoin his equally frozen partner…

* * *

The conversion room, some 24 periods (hours) later…

Within a former processing room of Slaussen’s Meat plant, a handful of Orion scientists have gathered for a group session. Some are reviewing various charts, readouts, and samples. Still a few select others are now listening to yet another one of their comrade’s, “Did you hear about the stupid human?” jokes. However, when Princess Theramea bursts through a set of swinging aluminum doors just a moment later, the light-spirited mood is quickly shattered…

“I hope this is worth my while,” warns the female in a critical tone. The pompous female flips her feathered boa up over her shoulder, before stomping her high-heeled boots forward in an arrogant manner.

“Greetings your highness,” welcomes one of the lab-coated males. It’s Kiyar; the captain of the collection ship Chimera. “I’m quite glad you could join us, Theramea. Please come and observe our latest specimens...”

The pretentious female steps forward to where two human males hover a foot or so above the floor. The men have been stripped down to their underwear; their upper bodies covered with various wires and electrodes. Both are suspended in harnesses, which are made up of a series of double-stitched nylon straps. These bands cross over in an X pattern across the chest and back. All of the straps merge together into one main belt that runs up the back. This main belt is connected to a spindle hook that’s bolted to the ceiling, permitting the victims to hang freely and allowing them to rotate a full 360 degrees.

Princess Theramea approaches the nearest human, tapping her riding crop across the palm of her opened hand. The man appears to be in his forties, is approximately six feet tall, and is noticeably out of shape. His hair has thinned to a slight halo, causing his bald head to gleam beneath the bright lighting.

The arrogant female shakes her head in disgust and assesses, “A population of millions, and this is the best you can do?”

Kiyar nervously answers, “What is most important is what they will be able to do for us…”

Theramea has already moved on to the next specimen. This one appears to be in his twenties, and has a more muscular physique. His face is rather handsome, despite the day’s growth of stubble. His dark eyes stare glassily at the wall opposite, much like his partner’s...

Theramea reaches out to run a hand over the male’s bare chest, admiring his well-built pectorals, (all the while, being careful not to disconnect the electrodes that cover him). Thoroughly appreciating the view before her, the alien allows her hand to wander even further, running her fingertips over the bumps of his well-defined abs.

“When will they be ready?” the princess inquired with noted interest.

“Level 2 programming requires a minimum of twenty four periods,” Kiyar answered. “They’ll be ready for their first task after that.”

The captains prompt reply falls on deaf ears, as the princess has already occupied herself elsewhere…

Theramea traces the faint hairline that runs from her captive’s navel, straight on down below his athletic briefs. (The light gray drawers fit snug throughout the crotch, and the contours of the fabric clearly define the male’s thickness and length). The kinky Royal traces her blood-red nails around the impressive lump, before pulling back the male’s waistband for a peek...

…Mm-hmm, there it is.

Theramea reaches in with an inquisitive look, and grips the human’s cock within her hand. …Not quite as has impressive as an Orion male …The alien bounces the appendage up and down within her palm a few times, gauging it’s heft, and then reaches in even deeper to cup his balls. She rolls them around within her fingers, before coming to the conclusion …I guess he’ll have to do…

The Royal drops the unit drop back in place and releases the waistband. The stretched elastic immediately retracts against the male’s waist with a crisp SNAP!

Theramea turns around swiftly, leaving Vincent Trillo to sway about rather eerily in the background.

“I want the younger one sent up to my sleeping quarters when he’s ready,” advised the leader. “I’d like to give him a trial-run before we put him back out on the street…”

“We’ll get him cleaned up and send him right over, just as soon as we’re finished,” promised the captain.

Then, just as the princess is about to exit through the swinging doors, Kiyar unexpectedly inquires, “Your Highness…?”

“Yes?” returned the princess before advising, “Quickly Kiyar; I have some urgent business to attend to, back on the mother ship!”

“The lover taken from the car in the field; …was he not good enough?”

Theramea pauses in thought for a moment, recalling the basketball player’s sexual performance. Then in a rather indifferent tone, the princess reveals, “Perhaps …But the female specimen was far more giving, than he …I trust that they’ve been dealt with by now?”

“Oh yes,” Kiyar assured, “…the male will be teamed up with the delivery van driver, while the female has been sent to the insemination lab.”

“I trust that you’ll keep me updated on her progress?”

“I will indeed, Your Highness.”

“Very well,” the princess commended, “…As you were, gentlemen.”

…As the double-hung doors swing closed behind the princess, Kiyar retrieves his clipboard and finishes comparing notes with the waiting technicians. In less than twenty four hours, Bruce Miller and Vincent Trillo will be ready to blend in with human civilization with a brand-new state of mind. But for now; they hang side-by-side in the background, with Vinny helplessly swaying about in slow semi-circles...