Chapter 1 – Close Encounter
*** Please note that this is a science fiction story set on modern-day Earth, which covers the rather eclectic fetish of causing women to lay eggs. Among other things, it also has both male-female and female-female scenes, and some incest – but those are later. If those aren't your thing, well, if you already clicked on sci-fi erotica about aliens, it probably won't be long before you get there. Bookmark this story and come back later when you change your mind.
Isaac jolted awake out of the blue, suddenly feeling a shock of alertness throughout his body as though someone had put smelling salts under his nose. He automatically took in a deep breath while he surveyed his surroundings, and the rational part of his brain brought itself together out of the foggy depths of his already-forgotten dreams. When he could finally think, he realized something was very wrong.
*This isn't where I went to sleep...* Isaac peered all around, and then further noticed what else was bothering him; he had awoken standing up. Glancing down at his feet, his mind reeled. He wasn't just in a standing position, he was literally suspended in midair. He could still feel the pull of gravity, but it was as if invisible clamps were fastened on his thighs, calves, torso, arms, even his neck. The room he was in was cluttered, looking vaguely like a surgical ward – a narrow bed was off to his left, with bright lights shining down above onto it.
Tables and consoles were set almost haphazardly throughout the room, and the walls seemed to be entirely composed of some kind of metallic cabinetry or lockers.
Some were open, revealing a selection of items that reminded him of a hospital – vials and bags filled with unnamed substances of various colors, inscrutable tools and parts, and what appeared to be flickering white and blue displays on a couple surfaces. Many more surfaces had the same-shaped areas on them as the displays, but were dark. *Broken equipment?*, he speculated.
Holding himself still, Isaac willed himself to awake again. He finally had to admit to himself that where he was, was real; dreams were never this lucid, and he remembered hearing that once you ask yourself if it's a dream, you either wake up right then, or it isn't one. Still, he had no idea what was going on. How did he end up here? What was this place?
Looking more closely at the various things in the room, he realized the labeling on all of it and the text he could make out on the displays was just as foreign. It actually looked nothing like any script he'd ever seen before, and he'd been through twenty-four countries and six continents.
He couldn't get a close look at it from where he was, but he was sure even from his distance that he was looking at something very strange. The whole place actually looked somewhat run-down; the metal of the walls, unpainted, seemed pitted and scratched, and the edges all had the marks of long-term wear and tear. There was a heavy industrial feel to it, and everything seemed built to last, but he couldn't help but get a sense that the place was very old and somehow outdated.
Unable to move regardless, Isaac had no options. He called out loud.
"Hello? Hellooo?"
He went silent, waiting and quieting his own breath in the hopes of hearing someone, or anything really. All he heard was distant mechanical sounds – the low hum of what sounded like a worn-down air conditioner, the regular and distant clang of metal on metal as some unknown machine clunked through its task in poor maintenance.
"My name is Isaac Butler. I'm stuck here. Can anyone come help me?"
Still no response.
"I'm an American citizen... Kidnapping is not cool. People get cruise missiles through their bedroom window for this kind of thing, you know."
The silence was getting to him. Was he completely alone here? Panic began its slow creep out of its already minimal containment.
"I'll give you a doughnut." He didn't have anything on him really, just the forty bucks in his wallet. The light pressure of it in his back pocket he could still feel, at least.
Suddenly a section of the wall on the far side of the room seemed to crack, then slide inward toward him a couple inches. Steam or pressurized air escaped for an instant, then the top and bottom halves each retreated into the ceiling and floor, respectively. His admiration of the unusual engineering choice was broken when he saw who was on the other side. A naked woman stood in the threshold, staring at a floating display of information over her forearm.
"Hi, can you help – oh shit, are you okay?" As she strode inwards, not responding at all to anything he said, he noticed how strange she looked. Her skin was a bright red color, not like she was injured or sunburned – it was like she was just naturally... red. She had small spots on and around her in places which were mostly yellow but also shaded into a light teal color in places.
The look was surreal, and yet her skin seemed totally natural to her at the same time; he could tell it wasn't make-up or some wild tattoo job, that this was how this woman really looked. The only thing normal about her was her eyes, which were a particularly bright but otherwise normal-looking blues.
The woman, whom he was increasingly noticing was completely naked, was in good shape; she had the lithe and impressive build of an athlete, her waist toned and supported by supple, strong legs. Her breasts swung pleasingly as she turned and passed another bed; they were bright red orbs suspended in front of her, looking quite shapely – especially for a woman who apparently didn't bother with a bra. At a guess he would have put her at a C-cup.
Her face was delicate and would have been beautiful without the severe expression she wore, like a woman focused on a critical yet grim task; still, he thought she looked amazing and more exotic than any other woman he'd ever seen, anywhere in the world. Around her head hung long, simple black hair, straight and shiny down to just above her shoulders; it had no particular hairdo or decoration to it, though it seemed well-kept. Suspended though he was about six inches up in the air, she still seemed short, probably five and a half feet – a couple inches less than his own nearly six.
She glanced at him, making no acknowledgement of anything he said, and flicked her wrist. The hovering display of information vanished. She walked up to his face, only inches away. Isaac felt a little bolder.
"Hello – I'm Isaac Butler. I speak English. Do you? Um, I also speak Portuguese and Arabic. Você fala Português?"
Her expression wilted his resolve before he could try Arabic. The woman turned her attention away to the display, which had suddenly reappeared. She appeared to make some kind of final notation on it before closing it again. Isaac decided that if she understood him at all, she clearly had no intention of responding. He steeled himself.
"Listen – can I go? I mean, I didn't mean to wake up in your crazy naked red people land, I'm sure it was a misunderstanding. When I get back I'll be sure and find the guy who was supposed to be here and let him know. How's that sound?"
The woman's fingers brushed his sides and waist, almost as if she was measuring him, but he felt a hint of sensuality to it. While he wouldn't say her touch was unwelcome – bizarre though she looked – his mind was focused elsewhere at the moment. One hand went to the waistband of his pants, so casually and unceremoniously that he didn't notice when she slid her fingers beneath and he felt her warm grip on his flaccid cock.
"Uhh – Good morning!" He choked on his words as she gave him an experimental squeeze, and tilted her head as if considering the results. The woman pulled her hand out as quickly as she'd put it in, and seemingly made another note on her floating screen. Still more confused than he'd ever been in his life, the woman suddenly grabbed his t-shirt and, without any obvious effort, ripped it open easily.
