Page 184 of Sebastian's Baby
The alien clicks a series of noises, and the orange forcefield surrounding the cage dissolves with a faint sizzle.
Before I can prepare to be touched again, the alien’s tentacles wrap around me, their slimy texture sending a shock of revulsion through my body.
I gag again.
Then I’m lifted like I weigh nothing and dumped into the men’s cell with a thud.
I instinctively try to get up and run, but it’s useless. The forcefield has already snapped back into place, sealing me in with the three naked men.
The men stare at me, their expressions a mix of surprise and something more sinister lurking beneath the surface.
I press myself into the nearest corner.
This isn’t just a sci-fi movie anymore.
This might be a hardcore porn.
I don’t know why I’m here and why I’m not with the women. All of those women are blonde, like me, but not exactly like me. While their hair is pristine, mine is streaked with pink and purple highlights. Who knew aliens were such fashionistas?
I watch the alien leave and then I turn back to face the men in the cell. I instinctively cover my breasts with one hand and my vulva with the other.
A low, mechanical voice echoes through our cage. It’s the clicking alien language. It means nothing to me and if it means something to my cellmates, they don’t acknowledge it.
A big man with broad shoulders and a mass of dark hair stands closest to me. His gaze locks onto mine and a twisted grin spreads across his face. “Well, look what we have here, boys.”
“You’ve just stepped into the Devil’s den, honey” the smaller man says as if he’s been waiting years to say that.
“She’s probably a trap,” the wiry man mutters from the corner.
The big man turns to the wiry one, raising an eyebrow. “You mean she’sbooby-trapped?” he asks, his tone dripping with mockery.
“I’m just saying I wouldn’t touch her,” the wiry man replies. “You can’t even be sure she’s human. It doesn’t make sense they’d put her in here with us and not with the other women.”
The big man looks back at me, his brow furrowing as if the thought had never crossed his mind. His confusion doesn’t last long. He steps closer, his massive frame looming over me, and reaches out to touch my arm. His hand is rough and calloused. His sharp brown eyes never leave mine.
I yank my arm away, forcing myself to hold his gaze. My voice is steady, even though I’m scared of what is going to happen to me in this cell. “Do any of you know where we are?”
He doesn’t answer my question. Instead, he turns back to the others, shrugging as if I’m some puzzle he’s just solved. “She seems human enough. She’s still covered in that oily shit they put on all of us when we arrived.”
The shorter man comes closer and grabs at me.
“Get off. Who gave you the right to touch me?”
“Definitely human,” the short man says with a laugh. “She’s got that whole ‘rights’ thing down. Only a human woman would think she hasrightshere.” He gestures around the cage, his grin widening. “Do you see any cops, sweetheart? Any judges?”
The big man chuckles. He takes a step closer and runs a hand through my hair before I can move away. “Maybe the aliens think she’s defective because of her pink hair.”
I slap his hand away. My eyes dart back to the other cage. The women inside are watching me with interest, their pale, blonde hair gleaming under the strange light. They look eerily similar, maybe they’re clones?
“What do you mean, defective?” I demand, trying to keep my voice strong, trying to make them see me as a person, not an object. But I can’t help but wonder if my odds would have been better with the aliens?
The small man laughs, a hollow, humorless sound. “Oh babe, how dumb are you? Look around. It’s obvious. We’ve been abducted by aliens for medical experiments. That’s what I think anyway,” he shoots a look to the bigger man. “Obviously, they’ve stuck you with us because whatever they wanted you for, it’s finished. They got it. Otherwise,” he gestures to the women, “you’d be over there with the virginal blondes.”
The wiry man in the corner pipes up again, his voice sharp and analytical. “Or,” he says, “it’s about sorting. Look at them.” He points toward the other cage with a jerk of his chin. “The aliens have no hair, no gender—at least not that we can tell. Maybe they’re grouping us by hair color, like puppies or kittens. Purple and brown probably seem more similar to them. Or they’re color blind. Or the alien who dropped her off is the office idiot. Who knows?”
I look over at the women in the other cage again, wishing I were there. My hair, once just an expression of my individuality, now feels like a branding, a mark that separates me from the safety of other women.
The big man snorts, dismissing the wiry man’s theory with a wave of his hand. “Doesn’t matter why she’s here. They gave her to us. Naked. And now she’s ours.”
