On Saturday the eighteenth, at 3:45 in the afternoon, the small town of Hartfordshire was visited by aliens. They didn’t swoop down in their saucers or explode from the ground, there was simply a flash of light, a crackle of arcane energy on Meredith Jansen’s driveway and then they were there.

There was no flurry of activity or switchboards full of frantic calls to the police station. There was, however, a single text message to one Jane Mert of the Hartfordshire PD. Jane was a Detective, and unused to responding to simple house calls, but Meredith was a friend and from the unusually worried tone Jane had managed to decipher from the line of slang and number-word combinations that sat on the screen of the phone she always carried at her hip. If she had known exactly what effect her actions would have, Jane likely would have taken a sick day that Saturday.

As it was however, she did not.

She turned her big four wheel drive into Kotter Lane and gave an exasperated sigh. Why, oh why had Meredith insisted on building her farm right on the outskirts of the town? It took any decent vehicle at least thirty minutes to get to their from the centre of the town and that was counting on them bringing a car or truck sturdy enough to make it over the rocky, worn terrain that Meredith was good humoured enough to call a road.

She checked herself in the overhead mirror and grimaced slightly, she always liked to look her best when she visited Meredith, although she knew Meredith was a staunch heterosexual and would never notice. She wore her auburn hair up, as per regulations and despite the tightness of the business suit she wore to work it never showed off her curves the way she wanted it to. She sighed as Meredith’s farm appeared on the horizon, framed against the backdrop of the Ithacan mountain range, her hair would have to do the way it was.

As she eased the jeep to a stop at the end of Meredith’s driveway she couldn’t help but glance around at the wide, low pastures that surrounded Meredith’s small shack. The house was a mess, a small wooden building that looked like it had been in Meredith’s family since the First World War. Jane had once joked that it would have been far more comfortable for Meredith to move in with the cows, in the massive red barn that sat in the middle of the left-most field.

As she pushed open the door of the car a shiver ran up her spine. Strange, especially seeing as it was the height of summer, and given the terrain almost uncomfortably warm. She fought down the feeling and adjusted her holster on her hip. She doubted she’d need her sidearm, but she’d learnt long ago the mistake of not having something around when you needed it most.

“Meredith!” She called out as she stepped up to the front door, “Meredith, are you in there?”

There was no response. Maybe she was out in the barn. Maybe it was a problem with one of the animals. No, that was stupid; Meredith knew that Jane was no good around animals, her entire life she’d lived in the city before moving to Hartfordshire two years ago. But if she wasn’t in the barn, then why wasn’t she responding? Reluctantly, Jane let her hand fall to the butt of her pistol and undid the clasp that held it in its holster. She tapped her knuckles on the wooden door, there was no doorbell; the house had probably been built before they’d been invented, and when there was no response gently pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The first thing that hit her was the smell. Not something horrifying or something that made her cover her nose but the heavy, sweaty smell of sex. She drew her pistol.

“Hello? Meredith?” She stepped through the living room, noticing nothing wrong with the arrangement and entered the kitchen.

The smell was stronger here and the kitchen table had been swept clean, leaving a broken plate and cutlery scattered across the floor. Jane bent down slightly to take a look at the table; a slightly sticky sheen coated the centre of the table. Jane reached out to touch it, noticing the green tinge to the substance. Her fingers gently sunk into the mess and then she flinched back as the liquid pulsed outward, spilling over the edge of the table. She tore her hand away, the light green mess clinging to her fingers like strands of transparent hair and stepped back, making sure that her work shoes kept clear of the pool of slime.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Jane murmured under her breath. She brought a single finger up to her nose and sniffed the substance experimentally.

She gasped as a flush of heat ran through her body, her knees wobbled and her nipples tightened into hard little bullets under her blouse. The space between her thighs grew slick as an image flashed through her mind.

obedience­drone1­lying­on­her­back­across­the­kitchen­table­spreading­her­slave­slut­thighs­for­her­mistress­her­voice­no­longer­needed­the­slave­mantra­repeating­inside­her­empty­mind

She coughed and thrust her hand under the kitchen tap. A second later she realized that the water wasn’t on and turned the closest handle with her elbow. Hot water sprayed from the tap, washing the substance away from her hand.

“What the fuck!” Jane cried, her pistol slipping from her nervous hands and clattering against the floor, fortunately the safety was on and the gun didn’t blow off her foot. Her breathing slowed and her frantic gasping for air stopped as she slowly bent to pick up her gun. The slime slowly rolled over the metal item, coating the pistol’s grip and barrel.

Jane gave an exhausted sigh and then carefully stepped around the puddle and her gun, “Goddamnit! Meredith?”

She turned to leave the kitchen. Then she heard it. A slow, mewling moan, coming from below. Her eyes dropped to the floor as her mind put the pieces together; the Basement.

“Oh shit.”

She stepped out into the hallway and then glanced at the door that was set in the side of the staircase.

“Meredith?” She called out, but weaker this time, despite her best efforts a hint of fear had crept into her voice.

“Pleasebeokaypleasebeokaypleasebeokay,” Her voice came in quick, ragged gasps in between the deep breaths she choked down.

Her hand closed around the handle of the door. She tore it open with a sudden strength. The moaning was louder now, she realized as she stared down into the dark basement. Then, as her eyes passed down over the last step of the rickety staircase and fell on the floor of the basement, she saw a trickle of green light spilling out from down below. She cursed, this was not right. This was definitely not right. For a moment her panic took hold of her and she considered running for it, getting into her car and calling for backup maybe. But Meredith was down there, she was sure of it now, and she wouldn’t abandon her. She couldn’t abandon her.

She grasped blindly for the banister and felt a surge of relief flow through her body as her hand curled around the wooden beam. Her first, heavy steps down the stairs were punctuated by the long, breathy moans coming from the basement. The light pulsed and flashed, just out of the corner of her eye. She stifled a gasp as she finally reached the bottom stair. The moaning voice was definitely Meredith’s. She could tell.

It didn’t sound like she was in pain. Jane turned toward the light slowly. What she saw in the corner of the basement made her jaw drop to the floor. Meredith was strapped into some kind of perverted space-pod. A circular enclosure about as big as a bed, the clear glass front of it held Meredith’s trapped, naked form behind. Her friend’s body was slick with sweat, and god knows what else. Arm bindings held her against the frame of the thing. The green light pulsed outward from somewhere behind her body. Meredith’s head was strapped to the infernal machine; a visor was closed down over her eyes. Her mouth was frozen in an ‘O’ of pleasure.

“Meredith?” Jane said quietly. Wether Meredith could hear her or not, there was no response.

She leant closer, careful not to touch the contraption. She peered down into the bottom of the cylinder, a thick clear substance that Jane recognized from the kitchen filled the bottom half of it.

“Oh god no, Meredith,” Jane gasped, she closed her hands around the cylinder, intent on freeing her friend. Electricity flowed through her body. There was flash of green light and then Jane was thrown back across the basement. Her back slammed against the hard ground, the wind was knocked from her lungs.

She rolled onto her chest and looked around, her head felt heavy, like she was tired. But that couldn’t be right, could it? No, she’d slept well last night and...

...why couldn’t she move her arms anymore?

There were footsteps on the staircase. Light, faraway footsteps but footsteps nonetheless, she cocked her head toward the sound and watched as an impossibly slim figure stepped off the stairs and down into the basement.

“Well, you’ve finally come,” The voice was a sultry and seductive and held a dark promise, like that of a thousand forbidden pleasures on the edge of understanding, “I could have stopped her primitive transmission, her desperate plea for help, but I knew it would bring someone else to be subdued. Someone just as delicious and delectable.”

The figure stepped into view, a curvy, athletic feminine creature with pale skin and black eyes. It’s head was completely smooth and it’s face had a serpentine quality to it, like that of a snake or a sharpened knife.

The alien figure opened it’s mouth wide and ran a forked tongue over one long incisor, “I’m sorry I couldn’t greet you at the entrance, I was busy setting up more conversion pods in the barn. I had to remove the bovine creatures stored there, but I’m sure you have more pressing concerns.” Jane tried to form a sentence, tried to ask a question, but all that spilled from her mind was a slight, bubbling mewl.

“Ah yes, Drone-1’s pod didn’t have enough of a defensive charge to seize your mind completely, but I’m sure for now your motor functions won’t be responding to any foolish attempts at escape,” Jane turned her head upward, the alien’s body was wrapped in an impossibly tight array of thin black straps, pale flesh shone through the criss-cross shapes of black material.

“Do not worry,” The Alien spoke, leaning in close and running a long, curved finger along Jane’s face, “I will help you to the barn, where your conversion pod awaits. My name is A’nasi, but you may call me Mistress.” From behind her Jane heard a slow whining noise as the conversion pod in the basement powered down, strong alien hands wrapped around her shoulders and flipped her onto her back, so she could better see Meredith’s awakening.

The pod cracked open like a Faberge egg, a torrent of clear liquid flowed out like some horrific, otherworldly birth. Meredith stepped out, smooth and robotically; the alien substance dripping steadily down across her glistening skin, hanging off her perfect, pink nipples.

Then her mouth moved, but the voice that came out was not Meredith’s, not her beloved friend’s. The voice that spoke was devoid of all emotion, all desire but that of her Mistress’, “Drone-1 is ready to obey, Mistress. What is your command?”

Jane felt fear seize her body like never before as the Alien above her spoke, “Oh, how delightful!”

Cynthia Waterhaus had never been a puritanical woman; in fact, she’d always enjoyed the odd spot of perversion. But the woman standing at the doorway of Gavel’s Groceries was not only perverse, but completely bizarre.

Her skin was almost as white as her eyes and there was not a touch of hair on her head, or indeed, anywhere visible on her body and due to the tiny little parody of a dress the strange woman wore there was more than enough flesh visible for Cynthia’s tastes. Thank you very much. But it was not until the alien woman spoke that Cynthia realized just how bizarre she was.

When the woman’s mouth opened Cynthia’s eyes were drawn not only to her incredibly long, oddly pointed tongue – and at the thought of such a tongue she felt a delicate shiver run through her body- but also the impossibly sharp teeth that sat aside it.

“I am A’Nara, but you dim-witted creatures may refer to me as Mistress, or if you prefer, Goddess, do you understand?”

There was a short laugh from the back of the shop and for a second Cynthia was tempted to join in, but she heard the cold, authoritive edge to the woman’s voice that the laugher didn’t. She saw the slight, cold smirk the alien woman followed the declaration with and she also saw the alien woman reach into the pitch black mockery of a dress she wore and retrieve a single, spherical object.

It looked like a steel baseball. But there was a slight green tinge to it, like a nightlight.

“Wha-” Was all Cynthia managed before the alien woman, and now Cynthia was sure that it wasn’t an adjective, but a noun, let out a shrill, high laugh and broke open the orb with a tiny flick of her wrist.

Emerald light spilled out, filling every crack and crevice of the small store, every nook and cranny and every pair of eyes that moments before had been focused on the Alien woman. It filled Cynthia too, an impossibly warm feeling that started in her brain, right behind her eyes, and spread all the way down to her toes.

The act of standing, indeed the very act of looking became too much to maintain as Cynthia was suddenly overwhelmed by an immediate sense of lethargy. Her knees gave out, her legs collapsed from under her and she suddenly found herself staring up at this strange woman.

This alien woman...

...this....

.....this.....

“....Goddess,” Cynthia could only hear her own voice say it, only feel her own nipples tighten under her blouse and only feel her own thighs go slick with moisture, but she knew everyone else in the store was also busy finding their own little slice of heaven at that very second.

The Goddess rolled her hand inward, Cynthia understood perfectly. She began to crawl, she crawled across the dirty floor she never would have even touched moments ago and through the piles of knocked over chip packets she’d taken with her in her fall. Her beautiful, amazing fall. But none of that mattered, crawling on her knees just felt so right now.