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Description
Drawn by Speedy-08 .
Go over there now and comment on the original! Do it now! Get out of here! Go! Run! Hurry, before the Hive gets here! Run! Before they-
...before they....

Mature Content

There were no secrets. Why would there be? How could there be? Every inch of your body had been scanned twice over. Maybe three times, in fact. The last one might have just been for fun, though.

Being abducted by aliens was different in every telling. Sometimes, it was a beam of light and a force field. Other times it was a magical mist. Most of the time it resembled whatever motion pictures had recently come out; impressionable, pliable human minds adopting whatever stimuli hit their eyes and was then transliterated via electrical impulse to the rest of their cortex, and eventually mixing up with whatever moonshine and recreational hallucinogenics that it had to eventually create a surreal and fictitious experience.

Being abducted by the Exhuman Hive lacked such flair and panache. There weren't massive drone-ships filled with custom-built SEEKeRs. They'd just grab you. They'd grab you, and sometimes you'd wake up before they were done grabbing you. This time, they didn't even knock you out. You'd heard from vague reports that they would use sedatives or teleporation or... something. Looking back on it, those reports were probably just clickbait; fabricated to give you the vague sense of security in the face of a possibly permanent change of scenery.

You had a profound sense of heaviness. A prick at your leg, maybe. You had the image of one of the drones shooting you with a blow-dart like in an old Hollywood movie. But no, it was probably something more advanced; an osmotic puncher that didn't even need to break the skin. In any event, it didn't give you the niceties of being unconscious. You felt everything. You felt when they stripped you bare, leaving your clothes in a heap as though you'd been teleported right out of your socks. You felt them putting you on your back and kneeling over you.

It was so profoundly strange. They had an unearthly grace. They didn't talk; if they did, then you didn't hear anything. You heard breathing from the masks, sometimes. More important was what you felt. Hands across your body. They scanned and prodded and took great handfuls of you. Your curves they teased out, your angles they measured. You felt them touching every part of your exterior. Sometimes, they would tease around your nethers, making play at your sensitive and private zones. You felt those smooth, gloved hands grasping, playing with you. Measured, polished, and made for work. If this was work.

You remembered moments of lucidity. Once they'd sealed you up in the suit and hauled you off, you had a memory of the smell of ozone and air; the sweet smell of oil and substrate that must have been used in their craft.

With the stars your destination, they took you out of your little pod to inspect you again. Therein was the play. You're pretty sure that aliens don't take out their captive just to tease them. You felt them locking your arms into a custom-fit straitjacket. Materials seemed to melt and glue together. In minutes, your suit was twice as thick, heavier, and now completely inescapable. You felt it shrink around you; your flesh bulging where their tight bonds bit at the soft bits of your body. Not enough to be painful or to cause harm, but enough to make it all bulge. You were a piece of meat they got from the market, ready to be served up.

They passed you around. Some of them blocked the air filters on your mask. The mask itself seemed practically glued on. You wiggled your head, struggling, flashing your eyes, making your best puppy-dog impression. If they cared, it was because they found it funny. Your air blocked made you feel dizzy, disoriented. When they let you breathe, it wasn't the pure oxygen but some sort of highly-filtered substance that made you woozy. It made you feel heavy and horny and ready to be touched.

If the layers of bondage and latex weren't enough, there was also the physical gropage. With your chest practically set up like a window, they knew exactly where to touch. When you curled up your legs, they gave you a metal spreader bar. It was fun for them for a while; running fingers and wands up and down your groin. You remember the intense sensation of something like electricity arcing from their wand to your zones. Your legs twitched; it hurt, but it was good. Heat grew around your nethers and it ran up to your core. Your nipples hardened and hair stood on end. Goose-flesh told you that you wanted more, craved more. They gave you more of this and that; more gas, more breathplay. More gropage. But they didn't give you more shocks. Not until they thought you were ready.

By the end of the trip, you were a panting, heaving mess. After almost, almost bringing you to climax for the fourth time, they locked you in some sort of plastic chastity plate and set you on your way. You were good and squirmy when they brought you out. You were the only captive, it seemed. They were all business and no play, their mysterious power gauntlets threatening you with a violet light. You craved that pleasure; the sensation that you were but a worm, a simplistic human compared to their nearly divine nature. You were the neanderthal to their homo sapiens; the paramecium to the virus; you were a pet, craving the chance to take off the mask and lick their slender boots while one of them teased at toys and vibrating pads. But no. Now it was all business.

There was discussion - wordless and brief- about your fate before they dragged you deeper into the hive.

Description
Drawn by Speedy-08 .
Go over there now and comment on the original! Do it now! Get out of here! Go! Run! Hurry, before the Hive gets here! Run! Before they-
...before they....

Mature Content

There were no secrets. Why would there be? How could there be? Every inch of your body had been scanned twice over. Maybe three times, in fact. The last one might have just been for fun, though.

Being abducted by aliens was different in every telling. Sometimes, it was a beam of light and a force field. Other times it was a magical mist. Most of the time it resembled whatever motion pictures had recently come out; impressionable, pliable human minds adopting whatever stimuli hit their eyes and was then transliterated via electrical impulse to the rest of their cortex, and eventually mixing up with whatever moonshine and recreational hallucinogenics that it had to eventually create a surreal and fictitious experience.

Being abducted by the Exhuman Hive lacked such flair and panache. There weren't massive drone-ships filled with custom-built SEEKeRs. They'd just grab you. They'd grab you, and sometimes you'd wake up before they were done grabbing you. This time, they didn't even knock you out. You'd heard from vague reports that they would use sedatives or teleporation or... something. Looking back on it, those reports were probably just clickbait; fabricated to give you the vague sense of security in the face of a possibly permanent change of scenery.

You had a profound sense of heaviness. A prick at your leg, maybe. You had the image of one of the drones shooting you with a blow-dart like in an old Hollywood movie. But no, it was probably something more advanced; an osmotic puncher that didn't even need to break the skin. In any event, it didn't give you the niceties of being unconscious. You felt everything. You felt when they stripped you bare, leaving your clothes in a heap as though you'd been teleported right out of your socks. You felt them putting you on your back and kneeling over you.

It was so profoundly strange. They had an unearthly grace. They didn't talk; if they did, then you didn't hear anything. You heard breathing from the masks, sometimes. More important was what you felt. Hands across your body. They scanned and prodded and took great handfuls of you. Your curves they teased out, your angles they measured. You felt them touching every part of your exterior. Sometimes, they would tease around your nethers, making play at your sensitive and private zones. You felt those smooth, gloved hands grasping, playing with you. Measured, polished, and made for work. If this was work.

You remembered moments of lucidity. Once they'd sealed you up in the suit and hauled you off, you had a memory of the smell of ozone and air; the sweet smell of oil and substrate that must have been used in their craft.

With the stars your destination, they took you out of your little pod to inspect you again. Therein was the play. You're pretty sure that aliens don't take out their captive just to tease them. You felt them locking your arms into a custom-fit straitjacket. Materials seemed to melt and glue together. In minutes, your suit was twice as thick, heavier, and now completely inescapable. You felt it shrink around you; your flesh bulging where their tight bonds bit at the soft bits of your body. Not enough to be painful or to cause harm, but enough to make it all bulge. You were a piece of meat they got from the market, ready to be served up.

They passed you around. Some of them blocked the air filters on your mask. The mask itself seemed practically glued on. You wiggled your head, struggling, flashing your eyes, making your best puppy-dog impression. If they cared, it was because they found it funny. Your air blocked made you feel dizzy, disoriented. When they let you breathe, it wasn't the pure oxygen but some sort of highly-filtered substance that made you woozy. It made you feel heavy and horny and ready to be touched.

If the layers of bondage and latex weren't enough, there was also the physical gropage. With your chest practically set up like a window, they knew exactly where to touch. When you curled up your legs, they gave you a metal spreader bar. It was fun for them for a while; running fingers and wands up and down your groin. You remember the intense sensation of something like electricity arcing from their wand to your zones. Your legs twitched; it hurt, but it was good. Heat grew around your nethers and it ran up to your core. Your nipples hardened and hair stood on end. Goose-flesh told you that you wanted more, craved more. They gave you more of this and that; more gas, more breathplay. More gropage. But they didn't give you more shocks. Not until they thought you were ready.

By the end of the trip, you were a panting, heaving mess. After almost, almost bringing you to climax for the fourth time, they locked you in some sort of plastic chastity plate and set you on your way. You were good and squirmy when they brought you out. You were the only captive, it seemed. They were all business and no play, their mysterious power gauntlets threatening you with a violet light. You craved that pleasure; the sensation that you were but a worm, a simplistic human compared to their nearly divine nature. You were the neanderthal to their homo sapiens; the paramecium to the virus; you were a pet, craving the chance to take off the mask and lick their slender boots while one of them teased at toys and vibrating pads. But no. Now it was all business.

There was discussion - wordless and brief- about your fate before they dragged you deeper into the hive.