Yes I'm ready to begin, Special Agent Strong. Oh, you're already recording. OK.
To begin with, I've never believed in flying saucers. Not really. I've seen some of those "Encounter" TV programs and I just think they're silly. "The X-Files," with Mulder and Scully investigating weird shit, is more believable.
Now, UFOs are different. That just means "UNIDENTIFIED flying objects" and some very creditable people have seen things in the sky which nobody has been able to identify or explain satisfactorily. I'd always figured they were some kind of natural phenomenon, rather than alien space ships or top secret aircraft, until now.
When I was a teenager, there was this men's magazine that Dad always bought. "Argosy." It was real sixties soft core. There were always a couple of photo spreads with girls wearing tight, skimpy swim suits, but they never showed pubic hair or even bare breasts. If a girl was topless, she had her back turned or her hands positioned strategically.
"Argosy" ran long UFO stories almost every month. That's probably why Dad bought it. He liked the UFO stuff and we talked about it a lot, although I'm sure he didn't really believe it.
One article listed a bunch of differences between humans and other mammals. The one that stuck in my mind was that human males don't have a penis bone. That helps keep the penis erect during sex, but drastically reduces the male's sensitivity and pleasure. The implication was that humans came from horny aliens fucking monkeys a few thousand years ago.
No, I don't believe that. I've had biology. Simple intercourse wouldn't produce a hybrid species. Deliberate DNA splicing would be required and the odds against getting viable offspring would be astronomical. When we find the starship that crash-landed off the coast of Africa, that'll prove we're descended from the survivors.
Man, you should see your face! That was just a joke.
OK, I'll go ahead and describe what happened to me. This is completely confidential, right? I don't want any of my clients to find out about this.
It was around midnight last Thursday. Yeah, about thirty-six hours ago. I'd finished my business in El Paso that evening. After supper, I decided to start back to Austin, rather than wait until morning. I was cruising down Interstate 10 in my 300-ZX. Since I wasn't in any particular hurry, I was only doing 95.
I'd just come down off the Apache Mountains when I saw the lights in my rear view mirror. That was about sixty miles before Fort Stockton. They were spread out too far to be car headlights and they were coming up way too fast. After a few seconds, I realized the lights were a few hundred feet above the highway and I decided a jetliner was trying to make an emergency landing.
I stomped the gas to get out of the way. In a few seconds, I was going 160 and the lights were still closing rapidly. Aircraft navigation lights are red and white. They're only mounted on a few points and they flash. The thing overtaking me was glowing with a uniform blue-green light and it was too big to be any plane I'd ever heard of.
Suddenly, it flashed overhead. All I could think was "This is a movie, man!" It was shaped like a guitar pick; a triangle with rounded corners, slightly longer than wide. The entire surface was glowing, but a circular area in the center was brighter than the rest of its body. I only had a few seconds to look at it because it passed me like I was standing still.
There was a orange marker indicating a cop turnaround in the median. I hit the brakes and gears and took it, accelerating like a bat out of hell in the other direction. I didn't know what I'd seen, but I wanted to get as far away from it as I could. When I could spare a glance into my rear view mirror, I thought I'd made it. It was still gliding along in the same direction. Then, it made an impossibly tight turn and started coming after me.
What did it sound like? Hell, I don't know! I always crank the CD player when I'm driving at night and all I could hear was Nirvana.
Anyway, it was back over me a few seconds later. It turned on a blinding white spotlight and the whole car went dead. Engine, headlights, stereo . . . everything.
The brakes still worked, though. The car skidded to a stop and the . . . thing . . . slowed down with it, staying exactly overhead. That's impossible, according to the physics courses I had in college. Even if it was hollow, an object that size would have so much mass that it would travel miles before it could stop.
The light around the car was so bright it was almost impossible to look outside. The circle of brilliance above me grew until I was engulfed. That's when I passed out.
Waking up was like being trapped in a nightmare. I was laying naked on a table in a dimly-lit room, surrounded by mysterious equipment. There weren't any apparent restraints, but I couldn't move anything except my eyes.
With a faint hum, a large apparatus mounted directly over the table began descending toward me. Blinding lights flashed on, illuminating my entire body. A mirrored surface on the approaching machine showed that the table below me was also radiating hot white light.
The device became more terrifying as it drew closer. It had dozens of shiny metal arms holding surgical instruments. There were knives, saws, clamps, needles, suction hoses, camera eyes, lights, and many unidentifiable objects. Something ice cold touched my belly and I screamed.
There was no pain. Except for my terror, most of the examination wasn't even unpleasant. Tiny fingers ran over every inch of my body and miniature cameras gazed into every orifice. Yes, I do mean EVERY orifice. I felt a slight prick when the blood sample was taken from my arm, but the biopsy a few seconds later was totally painless.
Hell yes, that should have hurt! A needle almost as thick as a soda straw went right in my belly. I could FEEL it sliding into me. Then it squirmed around, like it was sampling several organs. But it's already healed. You doctor told me she could barely detect the wound.
The rest was weird, but not too bad. Something slithered up my rectum. It went all the way up into my intestines. A doctor's finger will never bother me again.
The last thing was strange, but also sort of erotic. Something wrapped itself around my penis and my bladder emptied itself. When that was done, I felt a slight tingle and I had an instant erection. I ejaculated a few seconds later. That's when I lost consciousness again.
I woke up to the sound of men talking and laughing and wondered if I'd fallen asleep at a party. My recent memories certainly seemed like a bad dream. When I opened my eyes, I saw that I was lying on a low couch in a large room with a fifteen-foot ceiling. A single window occupied the entire far wall and curved gently upwards. Beyond the window, the Earth was hanging in velvet blackness.
When I sat up, the men turned to look at me. I realized I was still naked. There were three of them, all wearing shiny white plastic jumpsuits. They looked completely human. If you dressed them like cowboys and dropped them on a West Texas ranch, you couldn't tell them from the rest of the hands, except that they were all bald.
Yeah, their heads were completely bald, including their faces. I don't think they were shaved because they didn't even have a trace of stubble on their heads or faces.
OK, I'll try to describe them. They were all muscular Caucasians with slightly dark skin, like they'd spent a lot of time on the beach. The shortest was about 5' 8" and the tallest was a little over six feet. All the men had eyes of a glowing golden-brown color that looked vaguely African, but the men didn't have thick lips, wide noses or any other African-looking features.
Their faces? Well, they were all different, but they looked like any three random guys you'd see on the street. Nothing distinctive. Sure, I'll be glad to work with your artist, but I don't know how much good I'll do. I didn't have any trouble telling them apart. For convenience, I named them Curly, Moe and Larry, in order of height.
No, they didn't introduce themselves, as far as I could tell. They did a lot of talking, but it wasn't any language I recognized. It definitely wasn't Russian. If anything, it sounded oriental, but it wasn't Chinese or Vietnamese. Oh, I'd have known. I heard too much of those when I was in the service.
Anyway, I was sitting up on a couch with these three guys standing around me, passing a real science fiction-looking bong around and laughing their heads off. Whatever they were smoking, it wasn't tobacco, pot, opium, or anything else I'd ever smelled. No, of course I never smoked opium, but you don't go to Saigon on leave for two years without learning what it smells like.
When I sat up, Moe had the bong. He slapped me on the shoulder, said something loudly and handed me the pipe. It wasn't really a pipe because it wasn't burning. Instead, it contained a little pellet suspended in a thick liquid, bubbling furiously. When the bubbles reached the surface, they turned into heavy white fog.